#i think it's like the chess thing where a master will lose to an amateur because they're using tactics while the newb is having fun

[dyrewrites]

Things learned about my vampires and their sword-knowledge on the fun research hole I fell into because of pretty sword;

Ludovico trained in Italian swordsmanship(fencing/martial arts/there's a lot to it actually)--his mother thought this would get him out more and make him more appealing to women(we will forgive her well-meaning heart). He performed shows for socialites, often using a light, strictly for show Italian rapier. --thin blade that one. But he never needed to actually use what he learned, so it was more exercise and performance than genuine combat skills...

Lucient was taught swordsmanship by his Mistress, who was older than dirt, had fought in too many wars for her to remember and spent the better part her substantial undead life--before making him--with pirates (as her Master was one -- it is unknown where he is at this time, probably buried in a silver box somewhere). Lucient is very good with a sword. Any sword. He is also very fast and has the reflexes of someone constantly terrified for their life--because his Mistress made certain he was never relaxed.

The swords they have on board are backswords in design, but heavier than anything Ludovico's used--they're silver-plated, but made of iron (monsters no likey silver, magic no likey iron--the Lune Royale was beset by Hunters often).

Ludovico is going to need some proper combat experience with a sword because so far he's fumbled and gotten knocked overboard when he tried to help.

This means that, at some point, I get to write a scene where Lucient teaches him to actually sword fight.

When I tell you I am giddy.

[lazycats-stuff]

Ummm hi I just wanted to ask if you know the Netflix series called The Queen's Gambit? If you know, can you make a story where the reader is Bruce's son Is a chest master. Where he beats everyone in his chess game. Well I would love it if you retained the Queen's Gambit title but if not that's fine too🤣.But in the middle of the story he was angry because someone had managed to beat him in his match so he became annoyed and locked himself in a room to find a strategy.To defeat the person who defeated him. If possible, the one that will distract the reader is the OC. Thank you. Sorry if there are too many requests hehe

Oh I heard about, saw a few clips and all, but never watched it. But I know about it so no problem. I absolutely can do it. Also, I know nothing about chess. If there are people who play chess reading this, I don't know chess.

Summary: (Y/N) is a chess master. Until someone takes the title away.

Warnings:

All of his children were smart and had their specialties, so to speak. And Bruce was more than happy to help them explore that. Bruce wanted all of their sons to be explore their potentials. Why not? He had money and resources to help them out. That's also what he did to (Y/N), since (Y/N) was very interested in chess, since he was a small child.

Often asking Alfred to play chess with him. Which is ironic since Bruce taught him the rules for it, but hey. (Y/N) was happy whenever he played chess and since he was the youngest out of the 5 of them, he had 4 people to play with. Damian was more than happy to play, since his grandfather taught him.

Damian couldn't beat him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't. That made him even more stubborn, making it a life long mission to beat his younger brother. And if it's the last thing he does, then so be it.

Tim was also good in chess, but couldn't beat (Y/N) as well. He has tried every single strategy he could find and think of. But nothing. (Y/N) could not be beaten. Not in the slightest. Just like Damian, he swore to beat him one day, even if it's the last thing he ever does in his life. Until then, he was going to research every single strategy and make sure he takes the honor of beating his brother.

Dick simply enjoyed playing chess, even though he always lost against (Y/N). He didn't mind it, he has always liked spending time with his youngest brother, although he always lost. He always allowed (Y/N) to use different strategies during their plays. Had it been Damian, he might have exploded.

And Jason?

Jason isn't well versed in chess, but that didn't stop (Y/N). He was patient when teaching Jason, explaining the different pieces and the way they moved. Jason felt frustrated, wanting to sometimes flip the table. But (Y/N) was patient, knowing that not everyone liked chess and he liked the fact that Jason didn't kill him yet.

So all in all, (Y/N) was happy whenever he played chess. Whether it be at home or at tournaments.

And once Netflix aired its Queen's Gambit, that was his nickname from that point forward. (Y/N) hated it at first, but then he didn't care. He could deal with it, since it was in reference to Beth Harmon, although a fictional character, but still one hell of a chess player.

And yes, (Y/N) was participating in many tournaments. He got the title of chess master, since he beat a lot of amateurs, but he wanted to have the title of grandmaster. He wanted to be the best. He wanted to be respected doing something he loved more than anything in his world.

(Y/N) came into the manor like a bat out of hell. He stomped upstairs, slamming the doors of his room. Bruce was confused as to what has happened, but knowing (Y/N), talking to him while upset would do him no good. (Y/N) would only snap back at him.

Teens need some space to cool off and collect their thoughts.

The only thing that could happen to upset (Y/N) is losing at chess. So Bruce went to his detective work and sure enough, (Y/N) lost in a tournament. Bruce sighed. Losses are a normal part of life, because you need to know how to deal with set backs in life. Bruce made sure to teach (Y/N) how to lose gracefully.

And his opponent is a known chess player too. And Bruce has decided to check the clip too, just to make sure that he wasn't a sore loser. Because he didn't raise his boy like that. Thankfully, (Y/N) was polite, smiled at his opponent and shook hands, congratulating him.

Bruce sighed in relief as he saw it. He would have been disappointed if he didn't lose gracefully. But holing up in your own room is not a healthy coping mechanism. Hopefully food will coax him out of hiding and make him talk about his feelings.

(Y/N) is a growing boy and needs to eat.

Soon enough, (Y/N)'s brother's caught wind of it and tried to help (Y/N) out, trying to coax him out with food and talk. (Y/N) took the food like a goblin and went to investigating different strategies on how to beat him opponent. He said to them all that he'll beat his opponent, no matter how long it took him.

Bruce wasn't sure how to feel about that. (Y/N) needs a distraction. Bruce is slowly but surely out of options. He doesn't know how to pull his son out of the slump.

Jason had the idea to call (Y/N)'s friend, Simon Moore. Simon Moore is a good friend of his and Bruce suspects something more, but he still didn't ask about, thinking that (Y/N) isn't ready to come out yet. Either way, (Y/N) needs help.

" Simon is here. " Jason walked in with him, a tall blond boy with blue eyes.

" Hello everyone. (Y/N) lost a match and won't come out? " Simon asked and Bruce nodded.

" Alright. Just to warn you, if you hear yelling, don't be worried. " Simon walked up the stairs and Jason smirked to himself.

" (Y/N) is going to blow a fuse. "

Bruce sipped his coffee as he heard the door being kicked in. (Y/N) would have never opened up on his own and Bruce could always pay someone.

Perks of being rich.

" Alright Queen's Gambit, up and at them! " Simon yelled and (Y/N) was yelling back.

" Simon is a friend we all need to be, " Jason stated and Bruce sipped more of his coffee as he listened to the commotion.

" What's going on up there? It sounds like World War 3. " Tim walked in to get some snacks and coffee.

" Simon came by to help (Y/N) out, " Jason explained and Tim nodded as he poured himself some coffee.

" Father, what is going on upstairs? " Damian popped in to get himself some tea, looking through the different flavors in his box.

" Simon dropped by to help. " Jason leaned on the kitchen island and Damian nodded.

" Moore came to help. Good. Are we still in the belief that they are a couple? " Damian put the water to boil and Bruce nodded.

" Nothing is confirmed though, so not a word to (Y/N). " Bruce extended his cup to Damian to refill it for him.

" Is (Y/N) okay up there? " Dick walked in through the back door and Bruce nodded.

" Simon dropped by to help us, " Bruce gave a short explanation and Dick let out an oh.

" Well that explains it. "

Bruce nodded as they listened to the commotion upstairs. Soon enough, everything calmed down and Simon came down.

" (Y/N)'s in the shower, " Simon announced and everyone nodded.

Bruce took his cup of coffee back from Damian and sipped it.

" Does he look like death warmed over? " Damian asked and Simon chuckled quietly.

" Oddly enough, no. But the room stinks a little bit so I opened all the windows. Also, my apologies about the door mister Wayne. " Simon rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and Bruce smiled and shook his head and wave at his dismissively.

" Oh no worries Simon. Also, don't call me mister Wayne, just Bruce will suffice. "

Simon nodded. " He said that he would come down to get some food too. And he's hungry, let me tell you that. "

" That boy will be the death of me, I swear. Thank you Simon. "

[chaos-burst]

questions and answers

He had meant to be rude. And it had not worked even a little bit. Eodwulf is sure that anyone else would have been offended. Hell, he’s even sure that the other members of this weird group were absolutely offended on behalf of their friend. But Eodwulf can’t say he has ever met a person like this.

There was no malice, no ill intent, no anger.

When you work with Trent you have to be aware of every little shift in the mood. The slightest twitch of an eyebrow can mean the weather is about to turn foul. Eodwulf knows what to look out for. It had been his intent to rev this weirdo up and it had backfired spectacularly.

Damn.

No meat. No booze. And balls of steel, apparently. Eodwulf had never seen anyone talk to Trent like that. And while Bren‘s—Caleb‘s—words of wanting to kill Trent outright had been more than Eodwulf would ever admit to his mentor, it somehow felt less crazily reckless than to call Trent Ikithon, Archmage of Civil Influence for the Cerberus Assembly and one of the most powerful mages in the Empire, a fucking fool.

To his face. With a smile. In a complete sincere manner.

Eodwulf doesn’t want to replay the words in his head over and over again but his dumb brain has latched onto them and he can’t stop. Only this time it’s not one of Trent’s lessons that forces him to obsessively repeat something until you have internalized it to the point where you can cite it in your sleep.

No.

“Pain doesn’t make people. It’s love that makes people.“

Eodwulf has it on repeat in his head the whole way back to the tower and it is still going when he lies down hours later to sleep.

“What are you“ had not been meant as a serious question when Eodwulf had asked it. But by the time he finally falls asleep he feels like it has become a very vital question indeed, because who or what would dare to speak to Master Trent Ikithon in a way like this with an honest smile on their face.

*

Because for some reason his thoughts have decided to betray him, Eodwulf’s brain makes his tongue and lips form the words again when they see the Mighty Nein the next time. This time, Astrid and Eodwulf have been invited to dinner—Trent has very specifically not been invited, you could say he was uninvited with quite a few flowery words in a strange accent.

And as soon as Eodwulf sees Caduceus he remembers the weirdly polite scratching of a chair, the wide smile that indicates that this is a person Eodwulf possibly can not force to lose their composure through careful placed rudeness. And his mouth betrays him.

“So. What are you, really?“

Caduceus blinks mildly surprised before his unfamiliar features shift into a warm smile that has Eodwulf feel quite a lot of inappropriate things he didn’t expect to find in a place like this.

“Gardener. Maker of fine tea. A decent cook. Keeper of graves“, Caduceus lists of and he uses his long fingers to count the things that are important to him about himself.

“Very powerful cleric“, Jester chimes in from the right. She has Astrid next to her in a chair and Eodwulf is pretty sure that Jester has started to put flowers in Astrid’s hair. But surely he must be mistaken. Who in the Nine Hells are these crazy people?

“Oh, yeah. Well, that too, I suppose“, Caduceus says, his smile still warm like honeyed wine.

“Huh“, Eodwulf says because he can’t for the life of him think of something else to say. But Caduceus is yet again pulling out a chair for him so Eodwulf straightens his shoulders and sits down next to Caduceus. Across the table from him the angry one throws herself into a chair and stares at him.

There’s no fear there either, but she can be easily angered, something Eodwulf is good at. He gives her a canine smile and she holds up her middle finger.

This group is full of people with an enormous lack of self preservation.

And they are so loud.

Eodwulf almost doesn’t hear it when Caduceus turns to him to ask him a question.

“Huh?“, he says again, like a fool.

“And what are you, was what I wanted to know“, Caduceus says, his lazy grin open and honest. There is no malice in his words. He actually wants to know.

Eodwulf thinks “Murderer, wizard, protégé, spy“ but he doesn’t say any of these things. “Maker of graves“ comes to mind, but it seems like too dark of a joke to make.

“Enthusiastic about both meat and booze“, he says in the end and Caduceus laughs.

“Yeah, as are most of my friends.“

The implication these words bring is probably only in Eodwulf’s mind but it makes him swallow and look away to find Astrid’s eyes. But Astrid now has pink flowers in her hair and a look of absolute confusion on her face as Jester rattles of compliment after compliment about various of Astrid’s features.

Eodwulf can’t help but look at Bre—Caleb. And he sees that there is a soft, barely noticeable smile on his old friend’s face as he watches the scene unfold.

What am I, indeed, he thinks.

*

Trent’s orders have been clear. Get close to the group called the Mighty Nein to find out what they are working on with Lady Vess DeRogna.

Eodwulf allows himself to think that Caduceus might have been right. Maybe Master Ikithon is indeed a fool.

Because being in the presence of these people is like nothing Eodwulf has ever experienced and it makes him think, wonder, question—

“Here we are again“, Caduceus says after, yet again, Astrid and Eodwulf have been invited for dinner. Eodwulf wonders if this group just wants to make it very easy to spy on them, or if they have an agenda of their own—but it’s hard to believe that there might be any coherent agenda behind anything these people do.

He has watched the buff one called Yasha try and play what looked like a harp made of bone and when the angry one, Beau, told her that she looked hot playing the harp Yasha had torn two of the strings which had led to a whole scene of apologies and various tries to fix the harp.

Jester has drawn dicks on pretty much every surface this magical mansion has and she delights in the fact that Caleb brings the dicks to life in various colors. At some point he made glowing sparkles shoot out of one of the dicks Jester had drawn and Jester had laughed as if this was the best joke she had ever witnessed.

Eodwulf notices Astrid’s eyes on Jester.

Eodwulf also notices that while there seems to be no agenda or efficiency behind anything, they are still being watched.

Beau and Fjord look at them. And Eodwulf is pretty sure Caduceus watches everything as well, but he does it without crossing his arms and glaring so much.

“Looks like it”, he answers. Caduceus offers him tea and Eodwulf’s first instinct is to decline, but then he remembers that “maker of fine tea” had been very high on the list of descriptors so he takes the cup he is offered while somewhere in the background people start screaming something that sounds like “FLUFFERNUTTER”.

Eodwulf tries the tea. He’s not a fan of tea, but this tea is absolutely delicious and he finds himself impressed.

“I believe this one comes from the Hollburns’ graves. Those remains made the tea grow quite fast, it was impressive.”

Eodwulf blinks at his tea and then at Caduceus. For a second his brain wonders if this statement should register as a threat, but it had been delivered with such honest delight and a sense of pride that Eodwulf discards that feeling.

“What?”, he asks. Caduceus points at the tea.

“Oh, well, my family grows tea on those graves we’re keeping. In case you wanted to ask me again what I am. Or—hm, I think I already mentioned that I am a keeper of graves?”

Caduceus trails off and looks thoughtful and Eodwulf stares at him.

“Keeper of Graves. That make you a follower of the Matron?”, he asks.

Caduceus looks at him and smiles.

“Not quite. My family serves Melora. But we are descended from a champion of the Raven Queen.”

Eodwulf can’t help but wonder if this was some kind of weird joke. But his goddess usually isn’t one for joking.

Eodwulf considers for a second, then he pulls out the raven feather pendant from under his cloak.

Caduceus nods. “So”, he says and smiles widely. “What are you?”

Eodwulf snorts.

“For real?”, he says.

Caduceus’ smile widens.

“For real.”

*

It feels like this has become a sort of game.

“What are you?”

“Moral compass. Middle sibling. Eccentric. Amateur flute player.”

Eodwulf finds that through this question he himself posed the first time, he’s been forced to think more about himself than he feels comfortable with.

“What are you?”

“Decent chess player. Dog person. Sportsman. Only child.”, are the things he says out loud.

“Self-made orphan. Patriot. Volstrucker. Torturer.”, are the things he thinks to himself.

Eodwulf has the impression that Caduceus is somehow aware of the things he doesn’t say.

*

“So. This is the crew you’re running with now?”, Eodwulf asks Bre—Caleb one night before the Mighty Nein will leave with Vess DeRogna to who-knows-where. Neither Astrid nor Eodwulf did get very far with their planned infiltration work. Eodwulf is not even sure how hard they even tried.

It’s very easy to get swept away by the chaos and the weirdness and the complete lack of fear that the group displays when it comes to him and Astrid. They are dangerous people in a lot of ways.

The Mighty Nein are also dangerous people in a very different way. A way that Eodwulf doesn’t know anything about.

“This is my family, ja.”

He says it, just like that, without looking at Eodwulf.

Family.

The word tastes bitter in Eodwulf’s mouth as he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms.

“Weird people”, he says. Caleb huffs.

“You can say that, yes. But they grow on you very quickly”, he answers quietly and with a small, fond smile that makes something inside Eodwulf ache. For a long time Eodwulf pitied Bren for breaking, for not making it, for failing, for being locked away and discarded. Now he realizes that maybe, in a very macabre sort of way, Bren becoming Caleb through failure was the better end of the bargain.

It feels blasphemous to think that.

“The pink one is especially weird”, Eodwulf finds himself saying and he takes a big swig of whiskey from his flask before handing it to Caleb.

“Ja, I noticed that you seem to have a... uh... particular kind of interest in him. And, if I may add, he in you.”

Eodwulf takes the flask back after Caleb drinks. He contemplates the different sorts of feelings inside his gut as the words sink in. Then he tucks it all away very carefully, just as he learned through many years of being in Trent’s presence.

“Still don’t know what he is”, Eodwulf says. Caleb snorts and shakes his head.

“His people are called Firbolg”, he provides.

“Not sure that’s what I mean. Not anymore, at least.”

It seems dangerous to admit that. Caleb turns his head and looks at Eodwulf with a shimmer in his eyes that Eodwulf can’t read. Many years ago he was able to read Bren like an open book, but Caleb is another book entirely.

“You deserve to have some nice things, you know. You deserve friends. A chance of—hm. A chance of peace. A chance for redemption, if you want it.”

Eodwulf gets up and tugs away his flask.

“Pain doesn’t make people. It’s love that makes people. Pain is inconsequential, it’s love that saves them.”

Eodwulf understands the truth in these words now. Bren was broken, Caleb is being healed. Eodwulf doesn’t think that there’s anything left in him that can be saved. Or should be saved.

“Good luck on your journey tomorrow. Don’t die”, Eodwulf says and he leaves Caleb behind.

What are you, he thinks. A sentimental fool.

*

Astrid sits next to him on one of the balconies of her house and looks up at the stars above them. The Mighty Nein have been gone for six days and it has been very quiet.

They sit in silence and share a bottle of whiskey, passing it back and forth instead of words. It’s been like this for many many years that they’ve allowed themselves to just be. Today though, Astrid breaks the silence.

“I’m going to be the one who kills him.”

She says it quietly, without remorse, without indicating that this is a scandalous statement. She says it just how other people would say “I’ll go to bed soon.”.

Eodwulf stops breathing for just a moment. Then he inhales the cool night air and turns his head to look at her.

“Could kill you for treason”, he says. She looks at him and cocks her head slightly, the analyzing gaze of a murderous spy meets its equal in silence.

“I’d love to see you try”, she says. Eodwulf grins. It feels reckless.

“Don’t die”, he says, the same thing he’s said to Caleb before. Astrid regards him for a long moment and Eodwulf takes another sip. “Will you help me or try to stop me?”

Eodwulf considers this for a moment. Would he try to stop Astrid should she try to kill Trent? No. Would he help her? He doesn’t know that either.

“Can’t you just wait for Bren to do it for you?”

“I won’t lose to him again.”

Eodwulf snorts.

Always so competitive.

“That’s some fucked up shit, Astrid.”

“Shut up, Arschloch.”

Eodwulf grins before getting up to stretch. He puts his hands on the railing of Astrid’s balcony and wonders what Caleb’s new family is up to.

Making a new family never came to mind before. It sounds like something out of a fairy tale. While he contemplates the question whether he would help Astrid kill Trent Ikithon, a slow, familiar voice pops up in his head.

“Hey. Uh—Jester told me to send you an update. We’re still alive. Hope you’re good. Got  a new question for you. What will you become?”

The rustling of Astrid’s clothes as she stands up as well somehow tells him that she received a message in her head as well. She steps beside him and puts her hands on the railing next to his.

“They’re persistent”, she says quietly.

Eodwulf nods and inhales.

He doesn’t know what he will become. He didn’t even know that was a question to be asked. The path is clear. It always was.

Pain doesn’t make people.

“Not going to answer?”, she wants to know.

“Don’t have an answer yet.”

It’s unclear to him whether she means her own question or the message Caduceus just sent him.

He answers the sending spell with a simple “I don’t know.”. It takes a few minutes before another message comes in.

“That’s good. Uncertainty is good. It’s the first step in a better direction. I’m going to kill a dragon now. Wish me luck. Good night.”

“I’ll keep you posted on the answer to that question of yours. I’ll see you tomorrow”, he says and leaves Astrid behind on the balcony. Eodwulf thinks about something he hasn’t thought about in a very long time. A priestess in his Matron’s temple once told him: “Death is the only certainty in life.”.

He thinks that Caduceus would agree.

And Eodwulf hopes that the next time he sees that weird, reckless man, he’ll have an answer for him.

[yukina-otome]

Arthur VS a professional chess player MC

Arthur challenging MC to a game of chess and getting absolutely crushed in front of the whole mansion. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Requests are still open so pls feel free to send me asks.

He couldn't believe it. For the first time in both his lifetimes he was struggling in a game. And chess at that. Chess had always been one of his forte.

If things kept going that way he was definitely gonna be defeated by the newest mansion resident who walked in through the door from the 21st century. He was Arthur Conan Doyle, mystery writer and master of every kind of games. He hated loosing and never engaged in any game if he didn't know for sure that he was gonna win. So how did he find himself on the verge of loosing ?

Well from the moment he saw her confused and panicked face that fateful night, he harbored quite an interest in the young woman. He didn't really know why, she was very pretty indeed but that was not it. There was more to her than that. And to top it all she was completely immune to his charm. No matter how much he tried to flirt with her and invite her on a date she would just brush him off.

So he decided to challenge her to a game (that he would obviously win) and as a reward he would ask her to go on a date with him. His plan was perfect. When she accepted is challenge he naively let her choose the game they would compete at. When she said "chess" he quickly agreed to it without much thoughts. He was a master at chess. There was no way our naïve and clumsy human resident would stand a chance. Or so he thought.

Little did he know MC was a grandmaster of chess. And a triple world champion at that. She spent her whole life playing chess. For her he was nothing but an amateur.

They both decided to take their game to the playing room where Dazai and Isaac were already in the middle of a game of chess. Theo and Vincent were there too watching Isaac get defeated by Dazai.

-"Hondje, I advise against you playing with that rotten flirt. Your chances of winning are next to 0. He is a master of all games and the sorest loser in the universe" said Theo when MC told him about their bet.

-"Don't worry Theo I got this" MC smiled confidently as she took her seat on one side of the board.

The game started and Theo, Isaac, Dazai and Vincent decided to stay and watch the game. They were already thinking about how to cheer up MC after her loss. But as the game progressed they realized how good she was at chess.

Arthur confident cocky grin disappeared a bit more with each round and slowly he felt himself starting to sweat. No matter what he did MC always had a counter for it. It's like she was waiting for him to make that move. He was so used to reading people and usually he could read her like an open book but right then he didn't know what was going in her mind. He was frustrated. Extremely. And the wide smiles Theo, Dazai and Isaac wore as they were watching get crushed made him feel even worse.

The four vampires couldn't believe what they were seeing. This was a historical day where Arthur would lose at a game. This felt like some kind of personal revenge for four men who would always lose to Arthur.

Sometime along the game, Leo and le compte who were attracted by the noise and Sebastian who was there to clean also joined to row of the spectators. Napoleon who was looking for Isaac also joined and soon enough the whole mansion was there to watch Arthur get humiliated by MC who was wearing the same confident cocky grin Arthur wore at the beginning of the game.

After almost 2 hours the game was still ongoing and all the 9 vampires and 1 human who were watching the game could see that Arthur had no chance of winning at this point. Still Arthur refused to admit defeat and he would ponder his every move trying to find some way to win.

-"Arthur, enough. You lost. Admit it" Said MC.

-"No way. I did not lose yet." Replied Arthur.

MC was amazed by his tenacity. Any other opponent would have admitted his defeat by now. Regardless, MC decided she would end the game as she was starting to get bored. And so 10 minutes later:

-"Checkmate" MC said.

-"......." Arthur was silently looking at the board still refusing to admit his defeat. The 10 spectator starting applauding MC. Some of them seeing her as some kind of angel who took revenge on Arthur for them.

The other left and soon enough there was only MC and Arthur in the room. Arthur was still silently looking at the board his expression hidden by his soft hair falling on his face.

-"Arthur, are you okay ? " MC said

No response

-"Actually Arthur I am a grandmaster of chess and a triple world champion. So don't take it to hearth"

At that he finally raised his face and she couldn't believe what she saw. He was pouting adorably, his cheeks were bright red and his big blue eyes were full of tears that he was trying so hard to hold back. MC wanted to laugh but she held back.

Arthur quickly stood up and said "Next time I will beat you." before storming out of the room.

He locked himself in his room and didn't come out of three day, as he was too embarrassed to meet her.

[ragewerthers]

What It Takes

Summary:  Gladiolus is having one of the worst training sessions of his life and Cor makes remarks that hit a little too close to some insecurities. However, with a little help from Ignis perhaps he can figure out that he does have what it takes to be a true Shield.

A/n:  I just needed some self indulgent Gladio whump and this was supposed to be a tiny fic, but it was hijacked by the characters and took on a life of its own! :D

You can also read on AO3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20226709

Happy reading! :D

Word Count: 3847

------------------------- The sound of metal clashing echoed throughout the training hall.  The vibrant screech and scream of two swords locked in battle was enough to put anyone on edge, especially considering who the weapons belonged to.

Gladiolus Amicitia, future Shield to the King of Lucis, and Cor Leonis, Marshal of the Crownsguard, were putting their all into this fight.  Both men were refusing to back down, the match only coming to a close if someone faltered and sadly today had not been Gladio’s day thus far.

As soon as he’d gotten into the hall this morning he could feel something was off.  His weapons, which normally felt like an extension of his own arm, felt cumbersome and awkward.  Multiple times he’d attempted to call something for the armiger only for it to appear either later than he intended or into the wrong hand, a mistake he hadn’t made since he first started using this magic.

The first few matches had been held with the blunted, wooden training weapons.  Gladio’s bruised left shoulder and throbbing right hip were grateful for it as Cor had little mercy on him and instantly ended their matches with what would’ve been death hits.

Gladio felt like Cor could sense his lack of finesse today and was doubling his efforts in taking him down.  Not to mention that with each failed match Cor only seemed to up the anti.

After three matches with the dulled training weapons, Cor had said they were moving onto their regular arms.  While dangerous, this definitely wasn’t something out of the norm and honestly, Gladio enjoyed the extra challenge.

On a regular day, at least.

Right now with his limbs protesting from the earlier failures the last thing he wanted was to attempt this next match with real weaponry, but he had never been one to back down from a challenge and he wasn’t about to start now.

So here they were, locked into another battle and once again, every move felt too slow, too bumbling, too… amateur to be that of any good Shield.

Bringing his greatsword forward Gladio attempted a slash that would throw Cor off balance, but the only thing he managed to do was misstep himself.  His footing off, he stumbled forward and tried to right himself.  Sadly he wasn’t quick enough.

With a grunt, Cor rolled to the side and missed Gladio’s attack completely.  He’d read the signs all too easy in how the attack would be carried out and pressed his advantage once again.

Gladio was once again too slow on the uptake.  He called forth his Shield from the armiger, but it was seconds too late and in those few precious seconds he felt the press of Cors katana against his lower ribs.

Gladio growled in frustration, frozen in place as he tried to figure out the next move in this chess game and realizing all too soon that it was his loss.

Again.

Cor kept his katana pressed against the younger man, his icy blue eyes narrowed on his protege.  Gladio glared at the man in return, his own amber eyes burning with fury at another match lost and it wasn’t until the press of the blade reminded him that the battle wasn’t over until he admitted defeat.

“I… yield,” Gladio finally ground out, watching as Cor withdrew his blade.  Gladio’s tank top now  sported a thin slice where the katana had rested though no blood had been spilt.

This time.

Cor moved from his crouching position, shaking his head as he dismissed his weapon.

“Where is your head today, Amicitia?” he growled as Gladio watched him, his own hands still clenched around the hilt of his greatsword and the armband of his useless shield.

“On my shoulders, Sir,” Gladio fumed, letting his temper get the better of him as the bitterness swelled in his chest from this horrible training session.  The chill in the air instantly told him that he’d made a mistake, however.

In a flash Cor was in front of him, the ferocity of his gaze making Gladio wince and lose the attitude he had slowly been building up all day.

“You wanna try that again, Amicitia?” Cor growled, his voice a low rumble like thunder warning of an incoming storm.  “You are supposed to become a protector of the crown and not just any protector.  You are to be the Shield to the Crowned Prince and future king!  But if you keep making rookie mistakes like the ones today you sure as hell aren’t going to have a head on your shoulders for very long!”

Gladio’s temper instantly rekindled at that and he shook with the anger slowly building in his veins.

“I know what I’m supposed to become!  But just because I’m having an off day doesn’t give you the righ-...,” Gladio never got to finish his sentence.  As he spoke he’d stepped forward into Cor’s space, standing to his full height and attempting to square up to the Marshal.

He should’ve known better.

He did know better.

But his embarrassment and anger at getting called out had overridden any sense of self preservation he had.

Before he could even pretend that he knew he’d made a mistake, he found himself looking at the training hall floor with the wind completely knocked out of him.  His arm was twisted behind his back and the Marshals knee was pressed harshly into his lower back keeping him in place.

“Listen to me and listen to me well, recruit,” Cor replied icily, halting any movement from Gladio as he realized he’d stepped over a very important and very dangerous line.  “A Shield isn’t allowed ‘off days’.  He isn’t allowed to have lapses in his judgement or in his actions.  He’s supposed to be five steps ahead, if not ten, and able to think before acting like an obstinate child!  From what I’ve seen today I wouldn’t put a baby Anak’s life in your hands let alone Noctis’s.”

Gladio could practically feel the eyes glaring down at him, feeling like he was the mercy of a lion.  The breath he’d slowly regained while he’d listened felt shallow and he grit his teeth waiting for what was to come.

Cor remained quiet for a few more seconds before growling and shaking his head.  

“You’re dismissed.”

With that Cor stood up leaving Gladio frozen in place as those words swam through his head.  His shoulder protested as he brought it from around his back, listening to the heavy bootsteps as Cor moved toward his bag. 

“Marshal?” he asked quietly, the bravado he’d had when he’d stepped up to the man now completely gone as he shakily got up and watched his mentor refuse to turn around and look at him.

“Get out of my sight, recruit,” Cor said coldly, picking up a towel and running it over his face.  “Until you can figure out how to act like a Shield befitting a King you can consider yourself dismissed from further training with me.”

Gladio’s jaw dropped as he heard that and he stood up on shaky legs.  Was he really so inept that Cor would drop him from training like this?

“But… you can’t…,” he began and was met with a steely gaze that had him taking a few steps back.

“I can and I have.  Get your stuff and get out,” he growled and Gladio wasted no time in obeying.  Before he knew it he was standing outside the training hall doors, his bag in hand and his mind in complete disarray.

Had all of that really just happened?

Had he really messed up so much that Cor thought he wasn’t fit to train anymore?  Or at least until he, ‘figured out how to act like a Shield.’  Whatever that meant.

As if Gladio didn’t already take his job and station seriously.  He wasn’t just pissing around in there today.  He knew he wasn’t at his best, but he was trying, gods damn it!

He worked so hard in his training.  He spent gruelling hours mastering his swordsmanship skills, keeping up an intense training regiment, learning battle tactics and maneuvers til he thought his head might implode and after one bad day Cor was completely dismissing him?

Glancing up he realized that he’d somehow managed to make his way to the Citadel Gardens, his legs carrying him to a well worn bench that had seen him a few times.

Setting his bag down he took a seat on the bench and sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and hide his face in his hands.

How had today turned out so badly?

“Gladio?”

The Shield instantly sat up upon hearing his name, looking around to see who had caught him with his guard down.  The realization of that making him feel all the more bitter.  Some Shield he was to not be aware of his surroundings enough to let anyone walk up on him!

“Gladiolus?  Are you alright?”

Gladio instantly shook his head, looking up into the worried eyes of his boyfriend.

“Iggy, gods, yeah… sorry.  You just… surprised me,” he said, trying for a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and felt more like a grimace on his features.

Apparently Ignis wasn’t quite impressed with the attempt either as he frowned deeply and took a seat beside the man.

“Now, I know you don’t expect me to believe that’s all that’s wrong, Gladio,” he said simply, watching the way his partners shoulders slumped just that little bit more.  “Did something happen at training?  I was just on my way there to see if you wanted to have lunch together when I saw you out here.”

Gladio huffed, trying not to put his sour mood on Ignis who was only using that logical mind of his to try and figure out what was the matter.

“Iggy.  Really… I… it’s fine.  Alright?” he tried again and this time Ignis narrowed his eyes.  He’d been losing battles all day so really what was another at this point?  With a groan he leaned back, sighing and closing his eyes.

“I… I really fucked up in training today,” he said quietly, keeping his eyes shut as the fingers of his left hand picked at the arm of the wooden bench.  “I couldn’t do anything right, Iggy.  My form was off.  I couldn’t pull anything from the armiger like I wanted.  Cor kicked my ass multiple times and each time I just got angrier and angrier and messed up more and more.”

Ignis stayed quiet as he listened, watching how his boyfriends jaw seemed to clench as he spoke, his eyes finally opening and focusing at some spot in front of them as if that certain patch of grass had personally wronged him.

“And that was just with the training weapons.  Then we moved onto our real weaponry and it just got worse.  I got caught up in my head and I could see Cor was getting more and more pissed and…,” he paused here, the spark of anger blaring his eyes slowly diminishing as a look of regret washed over him.  “I was forced to yield again and… I got into an argument with Cor.”

Ignis gave a little hum at that and nodded. “You and the Marshal have had arguments before.  I’m sure it’s nothing that can’t be resolved quickly.”

“I talked back to him, squared up to him and tried to intimidate him,” Gladio admitted sheepishly.

Ignis sat there blinking a bit in shock as he took in that information.

“Perhaps… this may take a little bit more finesse to find a resolution,” he conceded and Gladio groaned, bringing his hands up to his face and hiding once more his head tipped back.

“Gods, what was I thinking?!  I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on him, but… he wouldn’t stop pushing even though I was trying my best!”

“But… isn’t that what he’s supposed to do?  Try to push you past your best?” Ignis asked quietly, watching Gladio carefully as the man growled and moved his hands up to fist in his hair, an easier feat now that he’d started growing it out.

“I mean… yeah, but… but,” Gladio floundered for something to say, feeling aggravated all over again as he quickly stood up and paced in front of the bench.

Ignis could see the growing tension and he knew that the man was heading for a blowout at this rate, but he also knew that nothing was going to stop it.

“But what, Gladio?” he asked quietly, keeping his voice calm even as he watched his boyfriend spiraling.  “If the Marshal was only doing his job and you agree then why get so worked up?  He only wants you to be the best you can be for Noctis’s sake.”

That seemed to be the final straw as the man turned to look at Ignis, his expression a mixture of hurt and anger.

“But I’m trying!” he finally shouted.  “I’m trying so gods damn hard and it’s not like I don’t know what my duty is!  It’s not like I’m actively searching to fuck up and make mistakes!  But is it really so terrible for me to have an off day?!  Is it really going to make me less of a Shield if I mess up in practice?  I’m not like Cor or… or my Dad or you!  I’m not perfect and I make mistakes and I just wish someone would understand!”  Finally all of his pent up anger had been given an outlet and Gladio was left breathing hard, arms shaking as his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

He took a shaky breath, eyes red rimmed as he looked down at Ignis.  “But ya know what’s worse then no one understanding?” he whispered, his voice strained regardless as he the fight slowly left his body.  “Knowing that there’s a chance that he’s right.  Knowing that… my best may not be good enough.  That… maybe I really don’t know what it takes to be a true Shield.”  Gladio swallowed thickly after speaking, his jaw working to keep the damnable emotions at bay as he looked down at the grass at his feet before closing his eyes.

Yet in an instant he felt strong arms around him, pulling him close and offering him a comfort he wasn’t expecting, but desperately needed.  His own arms wrapped around his partners as he hid in the shorter man’s shoulder.  His fingers fisting into the cotton vest and refusing to let go.

“Don’t you dare believe that, Gladiolus,” Ignis whispered against him, hugging him all the closer and shaking his head.  “Don’t you dare believe that you aren’t good enough or that you don’t know what it takes.  I have never seen someone so dedicated and so proud of what he is destined for.  You have more heart and more fortitude than anyone I know.  You are a true Shield.  I know it without a doubt and you know I’m not one to state things flippantly.”

Gladio couldn’t help a slightly watery chuckle as he remained hidden against his boyfriend’s shoulder, shaking his head.  “Yeah, but you’re sweet on me.  You’re supposed to say this stuff,” he whispered and this time Ignis let out a little huff of laughter.

“I may be sweet on you, as you said, but that doesn’t mean I’d mind my words when it matters,” he reaffirmed, stepping back a moment and looking up at the man.  His heart breaking as he saw how this had all been affecting and tearing down his normally strong and stoic partner.

“None of us are perfect, Gladio.  I myself have made countless mistakes and I doubt that Cor and Clarus have gone without a knock or two.  You are most definitely allowed to have off days.  Just remember not to internalize it all.  Don’t let it eat at you till you can’t see anything but failure,” he murmured, bringing his hand up to cup the other’s jaw gently, offering him a soft smile.

“You’re incredibly smart, Gladio.  Focus on the mistakes and upsets and learn from them to figure out how to advance and move forward.  I know you.  And I don’t know who put it into your head that you don’t know what it means to be a Shield, but obviously they are ignorant, obtuse and ridiculous.”

Gladio definitely laughed at that, shaking his head before letting his  hands rest on his partners hips.  “It was Cor,” he said simply, watching as a light pink hue appeared over Ignis’s features before the Advisor in training scowled and brought his arms down to fold over his chest.

“I stand by what I said.  If you want, I’ll have a word with him myself!  Perhaps show him a thing or two on what manners are!” he said with a nod before looking up at Gladio to see his smile faltering as he looked behind him.

“You really don’t pull your punches do you, Scientia?” a deep voice rumbled behind him, making Ignis’s entire face bloom scarlet as he turned to see the Marshal walking toward them.

“Oh!  Marshal.  I… I…,” he stammered, finding himself at a loss for words.

Cor, for his part, seemed to be looking almost as awkward as Ignis felt.  He offered the man a small smile and rubbed the back of his neck.  “You may not pull your punches, but I can take them.  Especially when they’re deserved,” he admitted before glancing from Ignis to his protege.

Gladio’s gaze had shifted back to the ground and he seemed to be warring with himself as to what to say in the face of the man who had just dismissed him.

“Gladiol-...,”

“I’m sorry,” Gladio cut in, his amber eyes looking up to meet pale blue ones.

Cor paused and Gladio took the moment to continue.  “I’m sorry for how I acted.  I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.  I shouldn’t have acted so rashly and I swear on the Six that I will never do that again.  But… I just want you to know that I do know what it takes to be a true Shield.  I haven’t worked my ass off for years not knowing what I need to do and the hard work I need to put forth to do right by my King.”

Ignis felt proud to hear Gladio speaking like this.  Hearing him rallying so quickly to prove himself to the man who had obviously knocked him down in more ways than one today.

Cor took Gladio’s words in stride, his expression betraying nothing as he listened and when the man appeared to have spoken his piece he made to speak his.

“I know that you understand what it takes to be a true Shield, Gladio.  I shouldn’t have goaded you as I did today.  It’s no excuse for your actions or words and may Ramuh have mercy on you should you speak to me like that again… however… you were right in that off days happen.”

Gladio looked slightly shocked to hear this admission though he kept quiet as Cor continued.

“You can’t plan for everything.  You can’t always have everything go your way.  I should’ve taken that into consideration and spoken to you about it as a learning point versus trying to lure it out of you in the way these lessons were taught to me by brute force,” Cor admitted, shaking his head slightly at memories he’d probably never divulge to anyone.

“I apparently still have as much learning to do as you and I hope you can accept the folly of a man who has made his fair share of mistakes in the past… and who is likely to continue to do so.”  Here the Marshal paused before giving his protege a warning look.  “But if you ever tell anyone I admitted to this you… both of you… will have severe consequences delivered upon you.  Is that clear?”

“Yes, Marshal,” both young men replied instantly.

“Good.  Now then.  I think the lunch hours almost up and I know Ignis has a few more meetings this afternoon so if you two hope to get something to eat, you'd better hurry up,” Cor warned before turning around and making his way toward the exit.  “And Gladiolus?”

“Yes, Marshal?” Gladio asked, snapping back to attention after taking a breath when he thought Cor was leaving them.

“I expect to see you at our training session tomorrow, is that clear?”

Gladio’s eyes widened a fraction before a smile broke out over his face.  “Loud and clear, Marshal!” he called back.  “I won’t go easy on you next time!”

A bark of laughter was the only response he got to let him know the man heard and Gladio found he couldn’t stop the smile from staying on his face.  After a moment he felt a warm hand gently taking his own and glanced over to see Ignis smiling up at him.

“You know… the Marshal wasn’t wrong about the lunch hour.  Why don’t we nip down to that Cup Noodle stand you like so much?  Then… why don’t we head home?” Ignis offered and Gladio actually gaped at him.

“Wait.  You want to skip out on a meeting?  To eat noodles and hang out with me?” he asked, getting a little shrug from the future Adviser.

“It’s a meeting on refuse receptacle changes happening in Inner Insomnia and since I drafted everything I hardly think I have to be there to hear my own words,” he said simply before offering his partner a soft smile and giving his fingers a light squeeze.  “Besides… I think my priorities lie in looking after my boyfriend when he’s having an off day.  Astrals know you’ve done it for me countless times.”

Gladio’s smile was absolutely beaming as he heard that and he paused to duck down and press a soft kiss to Ignis’s lips.  “You’re really something, you know that?” he asked softly.

“So are you.  I wouldn’t offer to stand up to Cor the Immortal just for anyone, you know,” Ignis said with a teasing grin, bumping his hip against Gladios as they continued out into the corridor and toward the elevators.

“Mmhmm.  Like I didn’t just witness you lose ten years off your life when he caught you talkin’ like that,” Gladio teased and Ignis managed to flush up.

“I would’ve said something!”

“I did.  It was a bunch of stuttering and your cheeks got all cute and red and.. Hey!  Where are you going?!”

“I’ve a meeting to get to on refuse receptacles!”

“Iggy!  Wait!  Aren’t you supposed to look after me?!”

Ignis had already made it to the elevators and hit the button, the doors starting to close as Gladio quickly slipped inside with a smirk.

Huffing, Ignis turned away, fighting a smile.  “You’re incorrigible.”

“Yeah.  But you’re sweet on me so it helps,” Gladio teased, leaning over to press another stolen kiss to his partner’s lips as the lift doors finally closed.

[completeoveranalysis]

TRC Translation notes Volume 18 (Chapters 133 - 140)

Even more incredible translation notes from the wonderful @giniroangou? I got you covered!

Highlights include: acid punk chapter cover mysteries finally solved, soul/body separation foreshadowing, oaths!, Lantis and co. actually becoming competent, character motivations making sense, intentional ambiguities, fun chess vibes, and Sakura’s heart breaking in slow motion.

Chapter 133

Cover page - Per the art book commentary, the panels in this picture were intended to be things the characters either threw away or decided they no longer want.

p.8 - The word “kokoro” comes back here, this time translated as “mind.” The description of Sakura’s body as a “vessel” is from the original text. There’s definitely been a theme of the mind/heart/soul being a separate (though not necessarily unconnected) entity from the body running through both the plotline and the language the characters use.

p.10 - As in previous scenes, the original text preserves the distinction between the two Syaorans by only placing Lava Lamp’s name in quotation marks.

p.14-15 - There were no exclamation points in these lines originally, which I feel implies more of a defeated tone.

p.19 - Yuuko’s line here isn’t necessarily about creation, though it could be interpreted that way. In the original text it’s, “For the sake of two futures.”

p.20 - Yuuko says that it is both the price Lava Lamp and the others paid, as well as their hearts (“kokoro” again) that will ensure Watanuki doesn’t vanish.

p.24 - The wording in the translation was a little confusing, but I think the concept got across. Just in case, Yuuko explains here that worlds are able to endure precisely because everything maintains a balance. If a world loses that balance, it will fall apart.

Chapter 134

p.35 - Sakura’s lines have been mistranslated here. She’s asking if Fai is hiding what he really wants to do because she said she was going to go. Essentially she’s worried that Fai is prioritizing her desires over his own, that he would have made a different choice without her influence.

p.36 - The original nuance is a little different in a couple of Fai’s lines. He says to Sakura, “I’m a wizard who can’t even heal your wounds, but will you allow me to stay with you?” As a side note: the English “wizard” is the actual word Fai uses to refer to himself - it’s written in katakana as the reading above the kanji for “majutsushi”/“mage.” (I feel like this has come up before, but… it’s been a while.)

p.37 - Just to clarify how this line appears in Japanese, “My only Princess” is written in kanji in a much more formal manner than Fai would normally use (我が唯一の姫君) with the reading above in katakana as “Vi la princia” (ヴイ・ラ・プリンシア). Additionally, the entire phrase is in quotation marks, enhancing the impression that it is an established oath of some sort.

p.38 - Kurogane could be referring to one thing or to multiple things that have changed - the word in Japanese is non-specific.

p.39 - I’m not sure why there’s a “But” in front of Kurogane’s line in this translation, since this follows directly off of his line from the previous page. It should be more along the lines of, “I guess it’s okay to make more than one promise.”

Chapter 135

p.51 - Sakura’s thank you feels super extreme in the official translation, but originally all she said here was, “Thank you.”

p.53 - The promise Fuuma mentions is presented in contrast/in addition to the jobs he does for Yuuko - after describing his payment process to her he says, “Well, I made another promise too, though.”

I interpreted Fuuma’s last line here not as a reference to the needs of the group, but to the fact that they’re probably going to have a hard time getting Sakura’s feather back from Seishirou.

p.62 - Yuuko says she’s going to purify the egg before she passes it on.

p.65 - Yuuko isn’t talking about a single unchanging feeling here, but saying that people’s true feelings cannot be changed.

Chapter 136

p.74-76 - Fun fact: The “READY…. GO!!” on these pages was originally written in English.

p.79 - Eagle remarks that BOTH Sakura and her pieces are incredible. The word for piece is written with the kanji used for shougi and chess pieces and the like (駒) but the reading is given in katakana as the English word “piece” (ピース).

p.81 - The point Geo’s making here should be that all three “pieces” DON’T seem to be amateurs.

p.82 - After pointing out Fai’s defensive technique, I’m fairly certain Lantis is saying that it seems unlikely Fai has always fought in that style.

P.84 - Lantis doesn’t describe them as “useful,” but as “masters” (of fighting).

Chapter 137

p.97 - The translation covers this up a bit, but Fai’s first line here is expositional - he’s just saying that they know there’s a feather in this world, not really asking about it. He is also still referring to Syaoran as “Syaoran-kun,” they just missed the honorific in the English version.

p.110 - I just want to drop another quick reminder here about Lava Lamp’s speech style, because the translation doesn’t do it justice at all. What’s been translated as “You too. Please get some sleep yourself,” was not actually a polite request. Lava Lamp refers to Kurogane directly as “you” (“anata”) and ends his sentence in a casual imperative (“yasundekure”). Despite the father/son vibe in the preceding scene, he speaks to Kurogane as an equal.

p.111 - Once again, there are quotation marks around Kurogane’s name when Fai says it, so it’s even more in-your-face in the Japanese version than the italics of the official translation.

Chapter 138

p.115 - Fai’s line is a bit less clear-cut in the original text. This is another case where there are no pronouns used, so from the line itself you can’t tell whether he’s speaking for himself alone or not and you also can’t tell whether he’s vowing to keep the whole group from getting hurt vs, say, just Sakura. However you choose to take this line is up to the context of the scene and how you view Fai as a character in this moment.

p.116 - Clow doesn’t ask if Sakura is looking at the ruins - she offers that information herself.

p.117 - Sakura’s description of the ruins is a little different in her original line - she says that there may be precious items from the country’s past buried there. (The word she uses for what might be buried is “mono,” which could be either singular or plural, but plural seems the most logical in this situation.)

p.118 - The word that’s been translated as “that special someone” is “daisuki na hito” in Japanese, which can mean, “The person you love,” but also alternatively, “Someone you love.” It doesn’t necessarily imply a romantic partner.

p.121 - A couple little tweaks here: The word “eye” has quotation marks around it in the original text. It could potentially be plural or singular, but given the context and the quotes singular seems more appropriate. Clow doesn’t specifically say anything about a message, just an inability to reach (so this could refer to a message, but also to feelings, to someone reaching out for something, etc.) He speaks only of a desire to protect, rather than a need or the actual act occurring: “But even so, you want to protect (insert missing pronoun here).” Basically, Japanese is the ideal language for a scene like this, because its ambiguity gives many of these lines a versatility they don’t have in English and allows them to apply to multiple situations at once, as you discussed in your liveblog.

p.123 - Again, the implication that protection is an obligation wasn’t in the original text. Lava Lamp is stating what it is he’d decided: To protect no matter what.

p.124 - Another punctuation tonal shift here: instead of “Sakura!” this was originally “.... Sakura.”

p.127 - Fai’s original line is a bit less flippant than the translated version, just, “Those look like they’d be painful if you hit them.”

Chapter 139

p.141 - “Becoming lost” is one way to translate this line, but it might be more natural to say that Sakura is hesitating or wavering.

Chapter 140

p.161 - Just for fun: the original text on this page is kind of wild aesthetically. “Checkmate” is written in katakana, what’s been translated as “black team” is just the word “black” written in kanji with katakana above it giving the reading as “black” in English, and then “WIN!” entirely in English.

p.162 - Fai’s lines on this page are spoken with more certainty - he’s not supposing, just stating facts. He describes Lava Lamp’s experiences as, “He’s lived through the same days as Syaoran-kun.”

p.169 - Significantly (maybe?) there shouldn’t be any quotation marks when Mokona says “Syaoran” here. It feels less alienating this way.

p.170 - Kurogane actually asks if Mokona is planning to drink the whole thing, bottle and all. I-is she trying to send it to Yuuko?

p.171 - Sakura’s line here isn’t, “I know!” but “.... I know.” (Once again, I’m not mentioning nearly all of these punctuation differences, but when they seem to drastically change the tone I can’t help pointing them out.)

p.172 - A couple of Sakura’s lines were changed in the translation. She originally says that even if Lava Lamp served as Syaoran’s basis, she knows that “just like those we’ve met in various worlds up until now, his appearance is the same but he’s a different person.”

p.173-174 - Since this was apparently confusing (and partially mistranslated) Sakura says here that each time she sees similarities between Lava Lamp and Syaoran (and there are many) she can’t handle it. Each time she notices these things she can’t help lamenting that the person in front of her isn’t her Syaoran.

[cerastes]

Completely aimless post in which I just talk about a plethora of things with no real goal other than that I felt like talking about it.

Martial arts are an art, end of the day, but one that is particularly difficult to be self-taught in. You really do need the instruction of someone, especially at first. If you have a solid base that was polished by a good master, then you can continue to improve yourself from there, but I think it’s exceedingly improbable for someone to be able to be truly self-taught as a martial artist. Just like with writing or drawing, there’s a difference between “good martial artist” and “good master”. Someone that is great at the arts might not be good at teaching them. Finding a good master, thus, is a task that should be viewed as it is under this lens. Likewise, you, as a student, can also be a good student or a bad student. A good master and a good student are a beautiful combination. Strive to be good, the rest will follow.

In a way I believe many people will understand it better: It’s incorrect to think of martial arts as active skills. ‘Martial Arts’ is a skill tree composed 80% of passive skills. You practice a punch or a kick or a clinch or a defensive maneuver not to do them consciously, you practice them so they become ingrained in your body language, so you react with them when they need to be used, and so you have the discipline to automatically know when they should be used. It is only in the highest levels of combat or when you are against someone of your level that mind games and the 3D chess games of “I’ll do this and that and this and that so they do this to which I respond with this but I should keep in mind they might do this at bullet point 3 so I’ll watch out for that and do this and that in that case instead” come into play, and they are thoughts that happen in a second, because they do not happen in words, they happen in motions you have ingrained in your body after laborious training. It’s why amateur martial artists tend to lose to street fighters but adept martial artists tend to wipe the floor with the same street fighters: Amateurs are still under the idea of “active skills” martial arts, whereas the adept simply does. Do, and the rest will follow.

It’s unhealthy to not realize and admit to your mistakes, but it is also unhealthy to never forgive yourself for them. Likewise, it is unhealthy to keep ‘friends’ that won’t let you forgive yourself, whether they make it manifest through words or simply through actions, subtle as they can get. It is a sad reality, but it is true. Avoid these friends. Make distance with them if they are not willing to let their own fears or grudge subside after you’ve proven you are not the you of yesterday. Don’t let them think you need to spend a lifetime atoning for once having been the you of yesterday. No one is, was, or will be flawless, but we can and should be better. Don’t let them not let you be better or feel better.

Years ago, I was immature due to my own bad experiences with some people that hurt me deeply and came to the conclusion that cutting people off was the right thing to do if they crossed you. Thinking back on it, it was me being afraid of being hurt again. I’ve long since moved on from this way of thinking, and I’ve embraced contact as the right way to handle things. However, as much as I regret the way I was, I decidedly do not regret cutting off the people I cut off, I simply regret the way in which I cut them off. The people I cut off are people I still do not want around me, and that I would’ve cut off anyways. What I regret is not talking to them and letting them know “hey, you’ve been shit to me, I really do not want to know you anymore,” because it’s unfair to wordlessly cut off someone, but it’s also unfair to subject yourself to more pain because supposed “friends” keep hurting you. I have apologized many times for being the way I was, but I will not apologize, not once, for the people I actually cut off. They are not all bad people, some of them are pretty decent, honestly, but they did me wrong, and not once or twice or thrice. Me cutting them off wordlessly wasn’t something I did after one tiny whoopsie, it was something I did after being wronged several times, and no one can say I didn’t give a bunch of these people chances, because I kept some around even after tons of fights and supposed ‘break ups’, forgiving them for their shit until I simply couldn’t take it anymore. What I’m trying to say here is that I’ve already paid my dues, I regret what I regret, and I acted bad, but that doesn’t mean I’m the bad guy and the other party was composed of poor wittle sunshines that were wronged by the big bad Dreamer. They had it fucking coming, and that’s all I have to say. If I have to feel like a perpetual villain around you because you happen to be friends with one of the people I cut off, then we might as well not be around together any longer, because fuck that noise. I am not saying your friend is a bad egg and you should consider your morality or the viper in your chicken coop or whatever, all I’m saying is that they wronged me pretty bad as well, and I don’t have to deal with your shitty ambivalence. You want to come to terms to this properly? Then fucking talk to me. Communication is the morale of the story, after all.

Yet, life seems to have a knack for having me, by chance or circumstance, be stuck with these people that feel this ambivalence for me for things I’ve already settled years ago. It’s getting really tiresome, and I do not have much patience left in me, years-long friends or not. Having to walk on egg shells because of their fears and/or over something long buried feels terrible, especially when the egg shells are from four-five years ago and everyone has moved on except these third parties.

It’s true that politics have different weights in the lives of different people: For some, it’s just a topic among many, and for others, it’s a matter of life or death. In that regard, I respect the decision to ignore the whole “I’m not going to lose friends over politics”: It is completely valid to part ways with someone over political ideas, for their abstract beliefs may mean concrete consequences for you. That said, I also respect the decision to want to part ways with someone for being too immersed in politics, because even though it may be their livelihood on the line there, perhaps you simply do not have the emotional energy to want to invest into a fight that’s not yours, when you already have your own fights. I personally am someone who doesn’t like politics getting in the way of friendship, but I’d also really rather you don’t turn everything into a political joke, either. It gets very exhausting for many reasons. 

The ambivalence born from my love for neuroscience and my incredible distaste for memorization-heavy disciplines is something I think about every day. I love reading article after article of the fascinating new advances in neurosciences, but I cannot for the life of me sit down in front of a moldy textbook and memorize all of these names. It’s too boring. I like the part where we discover and experiment with cool new stuff, not the part where I learn what the name of the little bean-shaped thing behind the eye is.

I don’t think psychoanalysis is inherently a terrible form of therapy and that Freud should be dug up and shot again: I do not agree with most of what Freud said and I do not like psychoanalysis as a form of therapy, but it is true that Freud got the ball rolling for a lot of the future advances of psychology, arguably giving birth to the discipline in the first place, be that in the form of contributions to his theory or counterpoints to it. Whenever I see yet another post saying “SIGMUND FREUD ACTUALLY DID NOTHING FOR THE WORLD,” I simply chuckle, murmur “tumblr not knowing things again, I see,” and I carry on. What I hate about psychoanalysis, however, are the politics behind it. The moment you turn something that should be used first and foremost for the benefit of the people that need it, in this case mentally ill or afflicted people, and turn it into a game of power and influence for your own goals, is the moment you are inhuman garbage and should be removed as a psychologist. Suicide ratings are tragically high, mental health is still seen as a joke among many people, and you want to keep the hegemony of the “original form of analysis” just for the sake of tradition and your own benefit? Die. Really, just die. I don’t use this word seriously very often, but I really think you should die for the benefit of the world if you act this way. You are putting so many people in danger just because of your little game of politics. We are better off without you.

Final thought about psychoanalysis: If it works for some people, it works, and that’s great. The patient shouldn’t be molded for the technique, it is the technique that should be shaped to fit with the patient.

The video game difficulty dilemma is always... Annoying, to be honest, between people that miss the point and the sheer vehemence between both sides, it’s really hard to mediate, but aside from being annoying, it is also a genuinely fascinating topic. I love high difficulty, but I also love games being more accessible. End of the day, though, I think that the idea of bashing your head against a wall until you become skilled enough to surpass the challenge is a beautiful concept, so part of me really thinks that shouldn’t be changed when we specifically talk about FromSoft games. And it’s fine if that’s not your cup of tea! It really is, I’m not saying everyone should like this, but, well, it’s big part of their appeal and their “never give up” message, I don’t think it’s right to facilitate things, to be honest. There’s appeal in the “learn under hostile conditions” idea, after all, and I really don’t know how it is that you can keep that with facilitators. I’d be delighted if they can find a way, though, because I do want more accessibility and all. Hard topic. I immediately refuse to engage with people that see it as an “us vs them” topic, though, lol, I’m here about that constructive dialogue.

Writing is writing, roleplaying is roleplaying, and tabletop roleplaying is tabletop roleplaying. They encompass very different methodologies, I’ve come to learn. It’s pretty fascinating. I love writing walls of text, but tabletop roleplaying, I’ve come to appreciate as a fast and short form. Much like I’ve come to appreciate roleplaying, really. I don’t really do 21 paragraphs anymore, ever, haha. I’ve come to understand the beauty of rapid pacing in the last years. I think it’s pretty essential in a tabletop environment. My DnD group, for example, is composed of Busy People, myself included, and we can’t spare more than one day per week on it, so we try to make every minute of every session count. The verbal nature of it can’t be beat, and were I to DM a game on the net, I really think it would be ideal if we had voice chat to go with it. Though, I understand there would be other problems associated with that, but that’s another story.

Really wish I had more free time, I want to play Trails of so bad.

I fucking hate cooking, bwahaha, I cannot get myself to like it. I like the end result, but I hate the process. Still, I endure, because I like food the way I make it: For me.

Really miss sensei.

I can’t stand people that look at something somewhat dark and immediately dismiss it as ‘edgy’. Where’s your sense of style?

On the same token, though, grown ass people being unironically edgy is painful. “Don’t pretend you don’t want an unhealthy, sexy relationship” alright fam. Unhealthy dynamics aren’t the only way a relationship can be spicy, lol.

Wanna play some basketball.

It’s fucking autumn, baby, the sun has finally fucked off.

Winter palettes are still the best, and combinations of white, purple, turquoise, pink, and shades of green can’t be beat.

Wanna rewatch Shirobako.

I’m pretty fucking tired and short on patience towards numerous people for different reasons, the main definitely being that the thesis is fucking tiring, but I am overall having a good time and I am enjoying life.

[pricelessmomentblog]

Discovering the Meta

One of my favorite early lessons in entrepreneurship was the idea of working “on” your business instead of merely working “in” your business.

To see the distinction, imagine running a restaurant. Here, working “in” the business is clear. Make delicious food. Offer great service to your customers. Keep the place clean and inviting. Being able to cook and host is often a motivation for many to start a restaurant.

Running a restaurant is a lot more than cooking and waiting tables. It’s business strategy, marketing, cost accounting and pricing. Working “on” the restaurant means thinking one layer above to examine what processes the business itself consists of and how you can improve them.

Many restaurateurs fail because they can’t think at that higher abstract level. They intimately understand the food and service dimensions. But they struggle because they can’t see the processes and systems that result in high-quality food, new customers and steady profits.

There is a pattern of thinking here, though, that’s a lot more general than just about business success. This is the idea of a basic level of understanding and a “meta” level, which takes as its objects the very elements of thinking in the basic level itself. I believe there’s reason to believe that much of what we deem “intelligence”, as opposed to mere calculation, involves this kind of “meta” leap in conceptual understanding.

“Aha!” Moments When Discovering the Meta

I can attribute one of the biggest changes in my own life to one of these moments of discovering a hidden meta layer. In this case, it was thinking about habits, goals and productivity systems instead of just the objects of those pursuits.

The “Aha!” moment for me was discovering that, instead of just trying to work on some project to achieve a particular goal, I could work on my habits directly to achieve that goal. Instead of blaming a failure on willpower or discipline, I could look at the habits that failed me and see how one could be redesigned in the future to avoid those problems.

After discovering this meta layer for myself, I became a little obsessed with it. I’m not alone. Many people I know who started blogs on personal development often do so with habits, goal setting or productivity systems as a first topic. The discovery of this “meta” layer to life can feel so profound that it’s hard to believe you didn’t see it sooner.

Meta-Metas or Turtles All the Way Up

There’s an old joke about an shaman and a scientist. The scientist asked the shaman what the origin of the world was and the shaman said that the world was resting on the back of a gigantic tortoise. The scientist responds smugly, “but what does the tortoise stand on?” The shaman responded casually, “Another tortoise.” “But what does that tortoise stand on?” the scientist asked again. The shaman replied, “It’s tortoises all the way down.”

Metas are a bit like tortoises, except in this analogy they stack up rather than stack downwards. Once you have a certain level of understanding of one layer, it’s always possible to reach out to a new higher layer and start seeing the “meta” of the layer you had previously discovered.

Consider our restaurant. The amateur restaurateur sees the business in terms of food and service. The smarter restaurateur sees it in terms of business processes that create the food and service. The smartest restaurateur, sees those business processes in terms of strategies that compel them. Metas on top of metas.

Or consider habits. The initial layer is to strive after things, and blame amorphous properties like willpower or motivation when you can’t reach them. The meta layer is to investigate the processes that guide willpower and motivation—habits, goals and systems. The meta-meta layer is to think about the ideas and philosophies that guide those meta-level objects. What kinds of goals should I have? What habits are meta-stable? Should a system be thorough or sparse?

You Can’t Force the Meta

Clearly meta-understandings are incredibly valuable. Since a meta layer encapsulates the layers below it, you can always reason downwards, if that is more appropriate. The restaurateur who has reached the level of seeing business processes, for instance, doesn’t automatically forget about the food.

Given this idea, it might seem reasonable to ask whether we can generate these meta-level insights directly. The pattern is relatively clear—instead of reasoning about the objects directly, you reason about the higher abstractions that themselves reason about the objects. This might seem to form a “pump” so to speak, that would allow you to generate meta layers automatically, simply by thinking hard enough.

Unfortunately, however, I don’t think you can force it. I believe that this is because the meta comes from having detailed understanding of the layer below. If you don’t have that, the “meta” layer you generate has no power. You might be able to understand that it exists, but you can’t actually elevate your thinking towards it.

To give an example of this, about a year or so ago, I started learning to play chess. I had learned the rules of the game as a child, but I never had any skilled opponents and didn’t practice. Then, recently, I started playing again with a good friend who was quite skilled at the game.

Chess knowledge is easy to think in terms of layers. The most basic understanding of chess are the rules themselves. Bishops move diagonally. Rooks move horizontally and vertically. Pawns move only forward, except to capture, which has to be on a diagonal.

The first “higher” layer of chess is encapsulated in the patterns that are not part of the basic rules, but are inevitable consequences of them. One such pattern is a “fork” where your piece simultaneously attacks two of your opponents pieces, and can sometimes force them to sacrifice one if they aren’t properly protected. There is no rule for fork in chess. It’s a higher-layer that comes from understanding the basic rules well enough to see that this pattern exists above them.

But there’s more than just forks. Further layers of chess become increasingly abstract. Great players can often lose on lower-level principles of chess, such as material, sacrificing a pawn or piece, but gain on meta principles like activity or positional dominance.

The thing is, when I started learning about chess as an adult, I knew about these things. I heard about concepts like pawn structure, aggressiveness, sharpness in tactics, etc.. but I couldn’t *see* them. I knew those layers existed, but when a chess master pointed out that a certain setup was favorable to white because of one of these higher-level concepts, I was blind to it. They literally saw the chess board differently than I did because their mastery of the lower levels allowed a facility of “meta” understanding.

Side note: Sticklers may be rustled at my overly loose usage of “meta” here. “Meta” interpreted strictly means something is “about” itself. So meta-chess would be… chess about chess? Maybe that’s meaningless. Incidentally, this is a problem with “meta” not being a concept in and of itself, but a prefix which depends on which word is used as the base. Therefore, there are many things which exhibit “layer-hopping” in the same way as strictly “meta” ideas, but may not officially qualify because the correct noun is lacking to truly make it reflexive. This is a little bit of an unconventional extension of the idea of “meta”, so for those who want to limit it strictly, feel free to substitute my overuse of the word “meta” with the somewhat more general (and in my opinion less illustrative) idea of “abstraction.”

Meta and Chunks

These days, the popular account of such understanding is that of “chunks”. Human working memory is famously limited to just a few objects. Our mental powers comes from being able, through exposure, practice and insight, to bind atoms of understanding together into larger and larger chunks.

Experts have expertise because their repertoire of lower-level chunks allows for increasingly abstract patterns to be deftly employed when they’re needed. Physics experts see physics problems differently than novices. They see them in terms of deep principles rather than surface features of a problem. An expert might look at a problem and say, “oh this is a conservation of energy issue,” whereas a novice might say, “hmmm this is one of the ones that has a string and a pulley… which formula do you use for those again?”

This view of chunks also implies that meta-layers, although I’ve conceptualized them as existing discretely on top of earlier understandings, aren’t really discrete. While the idea of working “on” one’s business as opposed to “in” it seems fairly clear, there’s still a lot of crossover. Does opting for smaller portion sizes represent a basic-level strategy of presenting fancy-seeming dishes? Or is it a higher level strategy of market positioning? It’s often not clearly separate, and the reasoning compelling such choices can blur boundaries.

What I think is useful to the meta understanding, rather than thinking about chunks alone, is that the meta understanding implies that often what you’re doing when building expertise is making understandings that directly manipulate the upstream causes of your previous reasoning.

Meta is Math

There’s a powerful analogy here between the meta-climbing of increasingly abstract conceptual understanding and learning mathematics. In a way, mathematics is a kind of rarefied meta-level thinking.

The hallmark of math is this kind of conceptual climb. You start by counting on your fingers. That generalizes to numbers that go past ten. Then you get arithmetic—plus and minus, multiply and division. What if you multiplied the multiplier? That gets you to exponents and logarithms. What if you took partial numbers, extended the number line backwards or allowed it to rotate? That gives you the continuum, negative numbers and complex numbers, respectively.

The hallmark of mathematics is to take one level and generalize it or extend it in some way. This goes on and on and on until eventually you have things like commutative rings in abstract algebra, which are completely opaque to anyone without advanced mathematics degrees.

Meta-levels have a similar flavor. There’s the layer you understand. There’s the layer above that you can see exists, but can’t really work with. Then there’s the layers above that which you don’t understand at all.

Depending on your feelings towards the topic, you may feel those meta layers are genuine, and represent a deficit in your understanding, or you may feel they represent and increasingly elaborate form of intellectual masturbation, with people coming up with increasingly esoteric descriptions of a fundamental lie.

The existence of a meta-generating process doesn’t say anything about its veracity, unfortunately. A genuinely useful process may get derailed if it introduces a falsehood at a lower layer. Then, you might get increasingly sophisticated elaborations of that falsehood. Alchemy and astrology had tons of smart people as adherents, but the sophisticated abstract understandings collapse since that’s not how stars or substances actually work.

Pathways to Finding the Meta

While I don’t think you can “force” a meta-level understanding where the object level is insufficient to support it, I do think the opposite is possible. That is, I think it’s possible to have a rich object-level and simply not notice the meta level sitting above it.

This explains why discovering the meta, for many, is an “Aha!” moment of insight. Discovering habits is such a personal development leap for many because they’ve trained themselves to take action to reach goals, but it didn’t occur to them to think about the processes that generate the behavior itself. If you’re ready, that insight can be digested relatively rapidly.

This suggests a path for finding the meta in many areas of life, whether it be self-development, chess, physics or art:

1. Acknowledge that there are levels beyond what you can currently perceive.

This is especially important if you have a tendency to dismiss them. “History is just one thing after another,” or, “All modern art is bullshit,” are meta-dismissing comments. Now it’s certainly possible that established views are wrong. It may be the case that historians are overconfident in their conceptual understanding of how events unfold, or that modern art’s philosophy is suspect.

However, if we accept that virtually everything has meta layers and meta-meta layers, turtling all the way up, then one needs to be careful dismissing the layers one can’t currently see as not actually existing. As I explained earlier, I simply couldn’t see the chess concepts the grandmasters were talking about. If chess had been a more subjective domain, I might have wanted to dismiss their concepts entirely simply because I lacked the ability to see them.

2. Probe your own meta-levels. You may be ripe for an “Aha!” moment in one of them.

Ask yourself what would be the meta level of the problem domain you’re trying to work in. What would it mean to “go up one level” in your business, career or philosophy? The answer may give you clues as to how to climb up there, if you’re ready.

3. Develop richer understandings one level below.

If you’re not ready, the answer will probably be vague or unintelligible, just as the advanced chess concepts were to me. The solution here isn’t to dismiss the meta or ignore it, but to work on enriching your understanding of the layer below. As that foundation ripens, it will be easier and easier to think of it abstractly until you’re ready to move up to the layer above.

Climbing Meta-Ladders

This idea, that meta-layers can only be reached with sufficient understanding of the layer below, I think prevents the biggest worry of this chain of reasoning, namely that if you obsess over the meta layer, where does it stop? Don’t you just go off into an increasingly heady realm, detached from the object-level concerns until you start asking those bizarre philosophical questions like what the meaning of the word “is” is?

This worry, of course, is perhaps a symptom of runaway abstracting without first trying to get a grip on the layer below. Properly construed, a higher meta layer should have even greater familiarity with the objects below it, so that they are enriched by that understanding, rather than forgotten.

That being said, perhaps there is a “meta” to this entire chain of meta-reasoning I’m presenting right now. Namely, when to think about the meta layer and when to focus on the ground-layer itself. If that’s the case, then perhaps I haven’t developed a sophisticated enough understanding to access that rung in that meta-meta. However, I’ll keep thinking about it, and perhaps I’ll discover something once I do.

Discovering the Meta syndicated from http://ift.tt/2kl7pJj

[gyngerkingboxing-blog]

Anthony Joshua vs Wladimir Klitschko Breakdown and Prediction

Hi people, with the big fight between Joshua and Klitschko being announced I decided to write an early prediction of how I see it going. Closer to the time I may change my mind but this is how I feel it will go on April 29th. Just consider this a second opinion from a complete stranger… online.

First off, I believe for the first 6-7 rounds this will be a jab fest, I don’t think it will be that exciting. I think it will be similar to the first half of Frampton/Quigg in the sense of it being a bit boring, a bit of a chess match with both guys hesitant to let their hands go. This will favour Klitschko of course who will be using his better footwork to avoid Joshua’s jab and his sometimes-telegraphed punches, we know Klitschko has the better jab of the two and I think he’s going to be the more accurate and edge most of the early rounds

I get the impression that a lot of people are thinking Joshua will just plough through Klitschko but looking at how cautious AJ played his fights with Martin and Breazeale I believe he’s going to be very respectful of Klitschko. I feel that when Whyte hurt Joshua that it sent him a message that in his division one punch can end it all, hence why he hadn’t just rushed them like he had prior to Whyte.

This is why Klitschko will be using his typical “safety-first” style he’s well known for using, its well documented that Wlad doesn’t have the best punch resistance.

(Klitschko hurt and stopped, above)

Experience is key in this fight, Joshua has not fought on this level or anywhere even close to it. I don’t think he’s going to land the shots that would normally KO his typical opponents. Breazeale was hit at will by Kassi but yet he was still able to Joshua’s punches coming? If someone with such poor timing as Breazeale can see the punches coming a veteran like Klitschko will definitely see them coming.

(Joshua inacurate, above)

I also think Joshua’s footwork is slow and plodding, he’s even admitted to finding it hard to stay on his feet in the Breazeale post-fight interview. This is something Klitschko will take advantage of. I can see Wlad controlling the range with his footwork and his frustrating jab.

In my opinion AJ hasn’t had enough learning fights to prepare for the tactics that Wlad will be looking to employ. Wlad will look to use his jab-and-grab style he’s mastered to disrupt Joshua’s rhythm, I think he’ll control the range and be in and out swiftly without getting caught too cleanly.

I have concerns about the amount of unnecessary muscle mass Joshua is carrying too. Both guys are near the same dimensions but Joshua will be much heavier which makes me think the longer the fight goes on the more it favours Klitschko. Wlad will grow in confidence more and more as the rounds get later and later. That’s when Klitschko will look to double up his jab and really start putting the pressure on.

Joshua has been hurt, dropped and stopped in the amateurs, as well as the story that was near enough confirmed that he was knocked out in sparring with Price, so we know he can be hurt. Klitschko can still bang. The power will be the last thing to go and Klitschko can do the 12 rounds as he’s proven a numerous times.  Those later rounds is where I think Joshua will get stopped. I can see Wlad using his jab to size up Joshua for that straight right hand, or even look to use his left hook to catch Joshua. By this point I think AJ will be tired and drawn and I can see his corner throwing in the towel stopping him on his feet.

(Joshua hurt, above)

In summary, I think the skill gap is too much, I believe Wlad will stay away for long enough using his measure footwork and superb jab and after7 rounds Wlad will have found a rhythm for the straight rights. I expect Joshua to be tired and frustrated and I believe Wlad will stop Joshua in the 10th round, with his corner throwing in the towel.

It’s a little too soon for Joshua in my opinion but he will come again and he will still be an exciting draw even after a loss. Just look at Klitschko and Haye, both guys suffered bad knockout loses and went on to become multiple world title holders as well as being huge draws at the box office.

This is just my opinion of course, I could be completely wrong, AJ could just knock Wlad out in 3 rounds, that’s definitely a possibility as Joshua’s speed and the strength of his combinations are very impressive, although I don’t see Klitschko allowing himself to be backed up onto the ropes. I am about 70% sure Wlad wins this by stoppage and if not he wins on pts. There’s no reason AJ can’t comeback from a loss, many greats have done it, it all depends on his mental strength.

(The strength and speed of Joshua, above)

Thanks for taking the time to read this, I appreciate it, peace.

-         The Gynger King