#in which all of his problems are Book Hiccup's fault and you should totally send your Dragon Riders to kill him he's planning an invasion

[anhttydbookfan]

for stopping rest i’m very interested in the idea of movie!hiccup trying to empathize with a book!alvin due to their similar experiences and alvin is NOT having it.

ooooh yeah the two warring sides of alvin's psyche: Manipulate Manwhore Manslaughter his way through this strange new Archipelago or letting the Hatred of his Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the third pump through his veins where his blood would be if he had a heart. I love it.

[dreamingoffairys]

Teardrops & Coffee Chapter 9

Hello hello everyone! Thank you so much for your positive feedback on Chapter 8! It made me feel great after that long hiatus, and I'm super inspired for continuing this fic now ;) 

Sorry that I didn't get this chapter up as soon as I expected, I've been busy with school, my job, and with the WWTDP event (not to mention coordinating Stingue week!). So yeaah, I'm busy. Lmao. Thankfully, I've already begun working on Chapter 10, so hopefully that will be done by the end of the month!

I hope you enjoy this chapter, it's chalk full of new characters. Sting's finally going to make some more friends!

[Sidenote, kudos to @splendidlyimperfect for inspiring me to add genderfluid Freed to this fanfic!]

AO3 LINK HERE.

Sting felt like today was destined to be a shitfest no matter what actually happened.

He didn’t sleep at all the night before, so heartbroken from Rogue leaving that he couldn’t relax. It didn’t help that today was apparently club day, which meant that if you wanted to join a club, you had to go the main square on campus to check out all the booths.

Although Sting originally had been really excited for club day, now he was dreading it. Rogue would probably be there. Hell, Rogue might even be in a club he’s interested in. And if there’s one thing Sting does not want to do today, it’s talk to Rogue. In fact, he doesn’t even want to see Rogue. What the hell was that asshole’s problem anyways? Why had he took off so suddenly last night? It still infuriated him beyond belief.

In a moment of sobbing rage, Sting had blocked and deleted Rogue’s number last night. Looking back on it, that was one of the dumbest things he could’ve done, but it was too late to go back on it now. Sting is going to be Rogue free for the next few days, no matter what. He needs time to cool off at the very least before trying to confront Rogue about everything that happened.

Currently, Sting finds himself in the library after his English class, fuming over the required reading due next class. The words swim before his tired eyes, blurring together and becoming even more of a confusing mush than before. “Fucking dammit-!” Sting hisses, nearly knocking over his Cup Noodles sitting on the table beside him. “I fucking hate this! I fucking can’t-”

The sound of someone clearing his throat jolts him so much that this time, he actually does knock the noodles over. “Shit-!” Fortunately, he manages to grab them before it spills much, just splashing a bit of hot broth on his white sweatshirt. “Fucking-”

“Could you please keep it down the library, please?” the stranger says, and Sting looks up at him to send him give his best death glare. “Some of us are actually trying to study,” the guy scoffs. Sting gets a good look at him before saying anything. The man has long dirty blond hair, greenish brown eyes, a pair of thick red glasses, and is wearing a white button-down shirt.

Sting shoots him a nasty look. “Look, I was trying to study too. Mind your own business.”

The man raises an eyebrow at Sting. “You more looked like you were getting frustrated and swearing loudly. Oh, and spilling things.”

Sting fumes and slams the book shut. “I’m really not in the mood. I didn’t sleep at all last night, and I’m fighting with the person who usually helps me study.”

The man stands up and walks over to Sting’s table. “Oh. I’m sorry for being rude, then. I simply thought you were causing a disturbance.” He gestures to the book Sting’s reading. “Pride and Prejudice?”

“Unfortunately,” Sting grumbles, rolling up his sleeves to hide the yellow stain from the shitty processed broth of his early lunch. He keeps speaking without thinking, too annoyed and tired to process his thoughts before he voices them, “It’s a bunch of heterosexual nonsense.”

The man with glasses laughs and sinks into the seat besides Sting. “Slightly. But I quite enjoy it. I wrote a 10 page paper on it last semester.” He pushes his glasses up his nose. “What is your name? If I’m going to help you, we should at least be acquainted. I am Rufus Lore.”

Sting blinks, surprised by everything about this man’s reaction. “Uhhh...I’m Sting. Sting Eucliffe. I’m new here this semester, so...I’m kind of overwhelmed.”

Rufus nods and clicks his tongue, “I remember the feeling. I do not fault you for being frustrated, then. I’m assuming literature is not your strong suit?”

Sting shakes his head, “I’m majoring in Computer Sciences. Which is funny, actually, because I’m bad at math too.”

Rufus laughs softly, “A...friend of mine is majoring in Music, but his voice is terrible. No one has told him yet. I do not want to be the person to burst that bubble.”

Sting nods and sets Pride and Prejudice back down on the table. “I don’t blame you.” He cracks the book open, goes back to the page he was on, and starts to read aloud:

"His pride," said Miss Lucas, "does not offend me so much as pride often does, because there is an excuse for it. One cannot wonder that so very fine a young man…”

About an hour ticked by for Sting and Rufus, and by the end of the study session, Sting felt more level-headed and prepared for class than ever. He had two pages of notes in his composition notebook, as well as some annotations in the actual book itself. Before leaving, Rufus gave Sting his phone number so they could text back and forth if Sting had any questions. Rufus even promised that if they met up again, Rufus would bring his own, fully annotated copy with him and let Sting read through it.

Sting left the library with a grin on his face, not caring that his sweater has a stain on it or that he and Rogue aren’t talking, because he’s prepared for the English discussion. This is probably the first time in his damn life he’s felt this confident about it! He’s going to strut in there and be the most educated motherfucker in the whole room. All the boys are gonna stare at him in awe, and all the girls are gonna be envious of his rad analyzing skills. Fuck yeah, he’s gonna show them!

That excellent mood is immediately shattered by the sight of far too many booths all spread out in front of the library. Shit. He’d almost forgotten about club day! Sting checks his reflection in his phone camera and grimaces. He looks like total shit, dark circles and all, with his hair an ungelled disaster crammed into a dirty beanie. Not only that, his sweater looks stupid rolled up at the sleeves like this, and the skinny jeans he’s wearing weren’t originally supposed to be ripped. Oh well. He was going to have to wing it.

He walks out into the crowd, having to push past quite a few overly enthusiastic sorority girls. One of them has long white hair and smiles at Sting kindly when he moves by, and she’s the only one who doesn’t make him extremely uncomfortable. The others stare at him as he passes, and he feels like he’s at high school all over again being ogled by the cheerleaders as a target either to flirt with or to criticize.

Once he manages to squeeze through, he takes a look around at the booths. He sees a sign reading “Improv Club” in sparkly letters with the two drama masks on it, and behind the booth is a familiar redhead and blue haired man with a tattoo on his face. Beside them stands an orange haired man with glasses, who is talking to a girl while clearly flirting with her. Nooo thanks.

Next he sees the Earth Club, a group of students with green t-shirts tending to little plants, talking passionately to bystanders about recycling, or handing out pamphlets about water conservation. Sting spots Yukino next to a girl in overalls with braided pigtails and smiles at her awkwardly. To his surprise, Yukino smiles and waves back, clearly unaware of the drama going on between Rogue and Sting.

Sting’s eyes skim over the signs for some other clubs...Dance Club, Chess Club (it’s there he spots Rufus), Debate Club, Video Game Club (where Natsu is hard to miss, screaming at some heavy-set man about cheating), and Acapella Club.

Finally, Sting spots the club he came here to join: the LGBT+ club. But before he can walk over there and introduce himself, a voice echoes through the speakers set up in the grass. “Hi everyone! My name is Jenny Realight, and I’m your Student Body President for this semester! And this here is Hibiki Lates, my amazing Vice President.”

Sting sighs with annoyance and glances up at where the two of them are standing. Jenny Realight looks like a stereotypical sorority girl like you see in the movies: sorority shirt, tight jean shorts that show off her legs, long blond hair curled perfectly, and makeup that’s visible from here. Beside her stands Hibiki Lates, a slender young man with “handsomely messy” hair and a dazzling smile. They both made Sting feel even more pissed off than he already was. They were the kind of people he’d prefer not to associate with.

And so, he walks across the way towards the people he did want to associate with. There are people behind the booth, all sporting various pride pins and sitting in folding chairs. On the far left is a brown-haired woman with a bisexual pin wearing a crop top and maroon jeans, her sandaled feet up on the table, drinking out of a matte dark blue water bottle. In the center is just an empty chair, but Sting sees a white jacket draped over the back. On the right is a person with long green hair wearing a red jacket with a genderfluid pin and a gay pin. Sting already felt very welcomed.

“Err...hi, my name’s Sting Eucliffe, I’m new here…” He bites his lip nervously, then carries on. “And I’m uhm, I’m gay, and I was wondering if I could join the club.”

“Obviously,” the brown-haired girl grins lazily and hiccups, and it’s then that Sting realizes that water bottle definitely contains something stronger than water. “I’m Cana, and this is Freed. Hold on one sec, I’ll call Lyon over to get you signed up.” She takes a huge swig from her water bottle, hiccups, then turns her head and shouts over her shoulder, “OI! LYON! GET YOUR GAY ASS OVER HERE, WE GOT SOMEONE WANTING TO JOIN!”

The green-haired person (Freed?) smiles kindly at Sting. “Thank you for considering joining. We’re always happy to have new members.”

Sting grins and rubs the back of his neck. “Thanks. Uhm...sorry, I don’t mean to be rude but ah...your pronouns?”

“Oh!” Freed sits up a little taller, looking proud, smiling wider. “That’s not rude at all! In fact, I appreciate your consideration. They/them, please.”

Sting nods, mentally filing that way. “Okay, gotcha. They/them. Easy enough to remember.” He flashes Freed a shy smile, and they beam back at him.

“Ahem!”

Sting’s head snaps up at the sound of someone clearing their throat, then does a double take. The man standing above him was perhaps one of the most...eccentric...people he’s met so far. His hair, dyed bright white, has so much gel in it Sting swears he can see it shine in the sunlight even from under the cover of the booth. The man’s eyes are lined with black eyeliner, and he has a bit of white glitter on his eyelids. The top he wears is a black cropped sweater with light blue writing on it that says DRAMA QUEEN in big bold letters with a crown on the “Q”. A pansexual pride pin sits right over his heart, attached to the “shirt” (if you could even call it that). His pants are tight light-washed skinny jeans, and he tops off the look with a white belt with a sparkly buckle. Sting feels like he’s just walked into a gay bar and met one of the strippers.

The man shoots Sting a smug smile, then extends a hand. “Hello! I’m Lyon Vastia, I’m the Vice President of the LGBT+ club. Oh, and I’m also a member of the Improv Club, which you should join as well, we could always use new members.” He eyes Sting for a moment, the smirk widening. “I have a feeling you’d fit right in.”

Is he...flirting with me?! Sting screams mentally, feeling like he’s falling into some alternate dimension. He’s too stunned to shake Lyon’s hand, simply staring at the man in front of him in embarrassment.

Cana rolls her eyes and leans back further in her chair. “Lyon, chill. You’re scaring the poor kid shitless.”

Lyon sighs and passes Sting a sign-up sheet on a clipboard. “I’m simply trying to be a good host, Cana, because one of us has to.” He quirks an eyebrow in the direction of Cana’s “water” bottle, then clears his throat again and turns back to Sting. “If you sign and put your phone number down here, we’ll contact you about all club events. We meet every Wednesday at 3pm in Professor Bob’s classroom, our first meeting is next week.”

Sting takes the clipboard and the pen. There are four columns on the page, each with a question. What is your name? What is your phone number? What are your preferred pronouns? Are you out or closeted?*

Sting follows the page to the asterisk, finding a small note that says We simply ask this because we may sometimes do on-campus events, and if you are not out yet or are uncomfortable in participating in pride events, we won’t put you on the sign up list for responsibilities for set-up, etc.

Sting smiles at how considerate this is, then scans the list of names. Is Rogue…?

Returning Members:

Lyon Vastia (he/him), out.

Cana Alberona (she/her), out.

Freed Justine (they/them), out.

Meredy Fernandez (she/her), out.

Juvia Lockser (she/her), kind of…

Hibiki Lates (he/him), out.

Sting pauses for a second, blinking at that last name. Wasn’t that the guy from Student Government? Sting suddenly felt bad for prejudging him.

New Members:

Lisanna Strauss (she/her or they/them), out.

Flare Corona (she/her), out.

Kagura Mikasuki (she/her), closeted.

Eve Tearm (he/him), closeted.

Sting lets out a sigh at the lack of Rogue’s name, then realizes he has no idea if it was a sigh of relief or a sigh of disappointment. Pushing away his confusing feelings, he answers the questions: Sting Eucliffe, his phone number, he/him, and I’m out & proud.

He hands the clipboard back to Lyon and finally manages a smile again. “Thank you. I can’t wait for the first meeting. I wish I’d had this opportunity back in high school, I haven’t had enough queer friends throughout my life.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Cana tips back more liquid from her water bottle. “I’ll drink to that.”

Freed looks at Sting supportively. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. That’s why we’re here, to provide a safe space, spread awareness, and to help LGBT+ students meet other people like them.”

“All great goals.” Sting adjusts his beanie nervously, feeling his anxiety kick in just a bit. Do these people actually like me…? What if after the first meaning they decide they don’t want me there anymore…? “Well, um, thanks for helping me out...I should get going now, I’ve got homework to do.”

“Wait, Sting, before you leave,” Lyon holds out a hand, and Sting turns to look at him. “You’re a freshman, right?”

Sting nods, “Yeah, I’m totally new...only my second week here.”

Lyon shoots him a smile. “Then you probably haven’t been to a party yet, have you?”

“Oh shit!” Cana exclaims, her chair landing back on all fours with a thunk . “Yeah! This guy named Orga throws fucking awesome ragers, and most of the people at his parties are either queer or just hella chill with everything. If you wanna meet more LGBT+ people, you should totally come.”

Freed nods, “They are a great way to relieve some stress.”

“There’s one tomorrow night,” Lyon folds his arms across his chest. “Orga’s brother has a fairly big flat like 5 minutes from the campus, he lets everyone come over and party. If you want to come, we can meet out by the front sign?”

“Look,” Sting holds his hands up, “I appreciate the offer, but like, I’m not really interested in you-”

Lyon snorts. “I got that part. I was just teasing you. I’m inviting you as a friend. Think of me as your mentor in the college life of an LGBT+ person.” He moves his hands to his hips, smirking proudly. “I’m taking you under my wing.”

Cana laughs into her water bottle, “Pffft, please don’t. Remember what happened last time?”

Lyon sighs dramatically, “Oh, you bitch, it wasn’t even my fault. Why’d you have to bring that up?”

“Um-” Sting stammers out, starting to feel overwhelmed and anxious. “I’ll think about it! Um, you have my number on the sheet, ah, text me when you’re at the sign and...and I’ll let you know if I’m coming or not. Thanks!”

Not wanting to be there any longer, Sting takes off through the square towards the dorm rooms, wanting nothing more than to collapse into bed and watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine until he passed out. To his relief, he makes it there without running into anyone he knows, and immediately strips down to his boxers and socks and face-plants onto his bed. He jams his earbuds into his ears and pulls up Netflix, finally feeling relaxed with his stomach full of budget ramen and his body resting on the comfort of his favorite blankets.

He’s getting better, very slowly, day by day. His anxiety is something he pretends doesn’t exist, but the more it resurfaces, the more he realizes that repressing it only makes it worse. Now that he’s acknowledged it, he can tell when he needs a break from social interaction like this. The best thing to do is to detox by being naked (or mostly naked, since he had a roommate and he didn’t want Laxus to walk in and see his bare ass sticking out) and making himself laugh.

After a few episodes, his phone buzzes with a text message. For a split second Sting forgets that he blocked Rogue’s number and feels a spike of both anxiety and excitement, hurriedly clicking on the banner without even reading it. Instead, the message is a notification saying he’s been added to the group “Magnolia University LGBT+ Club”.

Both relieved and disappointed at the same time, Sting dumps his phone onto his nightstand amongst the food wrappers and Coke cans, and then buries his face into his pillow and lets sleep overtake him.

[adriennescomingbacktolife]

           There it was.    The Baltimore City Championship. Resplendent in all of its glory. The golden plates shimmered in the overhead lighting. Encased in glass, it rested on a dark red velvet pillow.    Adrienne Levi shared that bright spotlight. She would be one of the women competing for the honor of representing Carnage Wrestling and its home city at the 100th edition of Chaos. Sitting in a chair, elevated far off the ground, she adjusted a mic clip to the collar of her logo t-shirt.    Looking at the camera, she smiled and asked, “We on?”    The red recording light on the camera answered that question for her. Adrienne exhaled sharply as she considered her words. Here she was, on stage, speaking to an opportunity that rarely comes. Earned through unorthodox means. Against an adversary that had been her partner for the last month.    “I haven’t talked about this much,” Adrienne said as she gestured to the championship on her right, “and to tell the truth, it’s because I didn’t totally believe that this would happen. Everyone has been so gracious in their assessments. That I deserve this. That I’ve come a long way.”    Smiling graciously, she cast a small glance towards the case.    “Thank you.”    Steepling her hands in her lap, Adrienne leaned forward.    “These past few weeks have been challenging. Losing stinks but that isn’t what this is about. I’m not the sort of girl who dwells on one bad night at work.”    Thinking back to former champion Eli Goode, he became more and more unhinged with every defeat. His delusion grew as he talked about which championships mattered and didn’t. It had consumed him.    And everyone now seemed to be an enemy to him. Things that had never been said by her were attributed to her without a second thought.    Nervous to admit, Adrienne saw a strange parallel emerging in her current circumstances.    “No, that isn’t it. I told you all right away. I’m not new to this industry. I don’t have the accolades or credibility of all of you, but that’s okay. Everything I’ve earned has been right here this year. But prior to Carnage, I was,” Adrienne paused, reaching behind her to retrieve a folded up photograph. Carefully, she opened it. For just a second, her eyes narrowed, and her expression could be construed as contempt. She turned the photo forward before continuing. “This was me.”    Adrienne was certainly right in the corner, but this was the “first autograph” she had shared earlier this summer. Someone else was featured prominently: “Magnificent” Danny Levi.    “Well, Danny and me.”    She tossed it aside, and the piece of bent up glossy paper floated down onto the wooden stage.    “You can draw your own conclusions here. Or if you want to, go on to YouTube and look up Danny Levi’s Greatest Hits. I’ve given up trying to remove the compilation of every time he struck me. Clearly, people enjoy watching it more than anything else he ever did. And as you all know, he’s gone.”    This had been no real secret. It’s just something she didn’t want to talk about much. Recent events had forced her hand.    Softer this time, she said, “He’s gone.”        That night was not Adrienne’s best effort. She had been a non factor against Axton Gunn and Sebastian Hawke. Leaving The Dragon Lady to twist in the wind. And in the end, they had lost.    Not that she really cared. Uncharastically, Adrienne left the show early. Within twenty minutes, she was back at Kohaku’s apartment, slowly emptying an unwieldy three-liter jug of zinfandel. Getting on Twitter, she poured out her guts and then logged off. Should have probably not pressed Send on those. Setting down her glass, she hiccuped. Feeling queasy, she realized this was a poor idea. However, it was the only thing she could do to take off the edge.    Everything piled up, and anyone who she thought would understand - was possibly part of the problem. Or reminded her.    The fox had held to his word. Phone number no longer worked. He was long gone. All that was left was that confusing book. Something she couldn’t even wrap her mind around with the rockstar around.    Axton Gunn had upset the apple cart.    It wasn’t him exactly, it was --    There was a sharp knock at the door.    Adrienne tried to remember if she had ordered delivery. Or if it was just one of those “wine and me” sort of evenings.        But before she could get off from the couch, the door opened. She sat there, dumbfounded, as Danny Levi sauntered through the doorway. He had cleaned up nice. Always valued a nice fitting suit.    Giving her a little wave, he smiled, “Surprised, aren’t you?”    “How?”    Raising an eyebrow, he pointed to the wine with an appraising look. “What do you think, Ade?”    Waltzing into the kitchen, he opened the fridge.    Disappointed, he called back out to her. Adrienne hadn’t left the couch as she stared at the still open door, “You aren’t a very generous host, are you? I could go for a nice porterhouse right now.”    Danny entered the living room. Nonchalantly, he plopped down on the couch next to his wife.    “I mean if I weren’t wormfood.” Laughing incredulously, he placed a warm hand on Adrienne’s shoulder. She closed her eyes. His exclamation pierced her mind with ease, “Goddamn. You can’t even look at your old man?”    “Cuz, you aren’t real.”    With deep, slow breathing, she tried to refocus on the night she had been having prior.    “Of course, I’m not real, you dumb bitch. So, just look at me.”    Danny’s arm shot forward, grasping her jaw and twisting her head towards him. He spoke low, hissing through his teeth, “Look. At. Me.”    Adrienne’s slowly opened her eyes. Danny Levi smiled that crooked grin. On closer inspection, his skin was pallid, and he looked like he hadn’t rested for a long long time.    “Good girl.”    He let go. Danny eyed the contents of the coffee table, besides the wine that is. Adrienne had been signing a stack of autographs to mail out in the next few days.    “Doing alright for yourself, aren’t you?” He said insincerely. Grabbing one up, he eyed up the promo photo. It was one in her new full bodysuit. She smiled at the camera, fists balled up, and ready to right. Her looping signature was bold and elegant. “What the fuck are you even wearing here?”    “I like it.”    “Nobody cares what you like.” Chuckling, he moved on, tossing the photo back on the pile. “You remember the good old days? That little blue dress. The first few rows would always try to see up your skirt. Don’t blame them; you were a good piece of ass, Ade.”    Danny pantomimed a chef’s kiss. Adrienne looked back towards the door, and she could have sworn he had left it open as he strolled in.    “Be serious. This is just the worst of who I was. How you choose to remember me, right? We haven’t talked in so long. I know you said goodbye. Disposed of me like garbage. Tossed away that ring of yours into the drink. Moved far, far away. And promised that you’d never think of me again.”    Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, Danny drew her in. He smelled of decay.    “But thanks to Axxxxxton,” sarcastically, he exaggerated his name in a manner she was familiar with, “I found you.”    “Wasn’t his fault.”    “I know, I know. Could have been anyone. Fitting it was that piece of Cali trash. Remember the time when I tore up that special poster. Signed just for you, and you wouldn’t shut the fuck up about it. Moped around for days until I set you straight.”    Danny messed her hair up with an affectionate nuzzle.    “You always come around eventually.”    Adrienne swallowed hard. His imagined touch repulsed him. This past summer, she had seen and heard things she couldn’t begin to explain. And here was another one. But she knew he was gone. She saw the light leave his eyes.    “Side effects of becoming a drunk, I suppose. See, you can run away from mommy, but I’ll always be inside you. Like a parasite, Adrienne.”    Abruptly pushing her away, he then stood up.    “Anything to say for yourself?”    Staring at the ground, Adrienne mumbled to herself, “What’s the point?”    “None really,” he concluded, “I just wanted to see if you had it in you. Here’s your chance. You’re the hero of the story, and I’m the villain. Look at me with all of my flaws, and you’d see I ended up being a truly despicable person. And here you are. You know the truth, you’re right down in the hole with me. You are moldering beside me. You keep manifesting these ways out, but fuck, none of them are real.”    Danny started to take off his suit jacket, folding it neatly on a chair next to the couch.    “So, maybe I should stick around. Perhaps every night, when you’re all by your lonesome, I’ll drop by. We can reminisce about all of the bad times. Maybe you throw me a fuck for old time’s sake. Maybe Fairman takes a break from his eternal rest, and you swallow him whole. As awful as I was, I was always a generous man. You gotta give me that.”    She shook her head, unsteadily. He sat down in the chair. Unzipping his fly, Danny signaled to her with a disingenuous suggestive tone.    “Danny’s had a long day, Ade. Why don’t you--”    Her phone chimed. It startled her, but it also made her realize that she was alone in the literal sense. Gathering her scruples, Adrienne clicked on the notification.    A brief, direct message from Matt Knox. Yo. kidYou're lovedSee you at 100        “I’m just trying to start over.”    Adrienne recalled the conversation she had with Amber last month. Ultimately, she just wanted to prove Danny wrong. She never considered that she’d become so attached to the people here to the point where she would quit an unsatisfying but secure job. Or running away from her family like she were some wronged teenager.    “It hasn’t been smoothest road. But this shot represents something I’ve never had. I’ve always stood in someone else’s shadow. And while I’m not that impressive compared to others, I’ve worked hard to get better.”    She paused, giving the belt another look. Who wouldn’t fantasize about that moment? She would bask in the glow of victory, holding that championship high.    “I deserve this.”    That statement hung in the air. It was something that many have said. Depending on who, it always took on a different feel.    “But not more so than The Dragon Lady.”    Adrienne wanted to give this woman her utmost attention. It was time.    “I guess I’d like to apologize to you formally about the last match. My head wasn’t in the game, and it cost us against a unit that had something to prove. To some, that makes things interesting. Personally, It hasn’t changed much. This was going to happen either way. The next Baltimore City Champion will be one of us.” Adrienne chuckled briefly, “Is that enough sports cliches for you?”    She steeled her resolve. Adrienne always found these next moments difficult, and after Axton, she was perhaps more reluctant than ever.    “We’ve spent a lot of time together. Trained. Ate together. I even met your manager.”    Mameha was impressive. She enjoyed her company, and the excellent tea certainly helped.    “But we always knew that everything led to 100. That every action would be measured. These past few times, I guarantee we’ve studied each other just as much as our opponents. I know my weaknesses. I know that I can’t match your skill or ability. I don’t possess the knowledge you have when it comes to a good fight. But that’s the thing.”    She paused, emoting that this was a realization for the audience to hear.    “I don’t need to. I just need to be me. I know this will be the most challenging match of my life. You aren’t some cartoon villain like Grant or Winter. You’re not lashing out at shadows like Eli Goode. You’re one of the most formidable opponents I’ll ever step into the ring with. Some of your decisions have perplexed others. You gave up an opportunity for the Chaos title to roll in the mud with Alex Winter. It’s not hard to see why.”    Adrienne thought back briefly to Winter. Nobody seemed to be learning the nature of this guy. Every action creates a reaction. Whoever chose to accost Alex has only made it worse.    “He gets under your skin. And by hook or crook, he humiliated you. I think we were fortunate against the likes of Goode and Matthews. Your attention seemed to be on Alex Winter that evening.” She raised her pointer finger in the air as to qualify her statement, “This isn’t to say that you can’t walk and chew gum at the same time but could have been a different story if Goode or Matthews were actually on the same page.”    And that brought her to their most recent outing.    “And while I was far from my best against Gunn and Hawke, I would be remiss if they didn’t get credit for their outstanding teamwork. Their game plan was simple.”    Taking a moment, she leaned forward.    “You.”    And she hated to admit that, but the strategy was plain as day.    “At first, I considered this to be an exhibition of sorts. I had my apprehensions about Axton Gunn. I’ve explained it enough. Sebastian was a little abrasive at first, so it was strange to hear such shining praise from his lips. But I think what you did only served to put a fire under them. It gave them the motivation to work together and wipe away that initial sting of defeat. I still don’t know either of them very well. Axton, sure. He’s a big deal. But personally?” Adrienne shook her head. “So I would hope that this championship is your focus this week.”    The camera panned out slightly to put Adrienne and the title in the shot.    “Because I wouldn’t be a student of the game if I didn’t take advantage. I want to become champion. I’m not sure if I can say it any better. I’m not like the Jack Michaels of old. I’m not Mitch. Or Silvio. Or anyone else for that matter. I just know that it’d mean a lot to represent this company. A company that, despite whatever issues linger, gave me a chance. It would mean everything for me to represent a city and a community that has welcomed me with open arms.”    Shrugging her shoulders, she concluded, “I guess it would make me happy.”    Adrienne shared a little smile. Not a lot to smile about recently. But again, that little fantasy took root. It would be awful nice. She had a guest coming, and with every passing conversation with Sylvia, she thought it would be cool if she saw her win that title. Retrieving a little slip of paper from her jeans pockets, she read it to herself.    “I’ve been thinking about this a lot. The Dragon Lady probably knows what this is or at least whose handwriting this is.” Tapping a finger against the note, she said, “She’s right. Just a few months ago, I was huffing and puffing my way through my debut against Starburst. And before that, my life was just passing me by because I don’t think I understood who I am. Who I could be. I’m not sure I should be so definite here, but these chances like this don’t come often. I have to seize this opportunity. It won’t come easy. But this right here is my story, my life, and yeah, this might be my only chance for it. I’m choosing to rise and become a champion this city can be proud of.”    Tucking the note back away, she then slid off the chair onto her feet. She didn’t fall on her face on camera, fortunately.    “I hope that’s okay with you. But either way, that’s who I am. A champion in the making. The future. Whatever else others want to say.”    Danny Levi’s specter remained, and so maybe it didn’t have to be one thing or other. Adrienne could fall in love with this business, and at the same time, she could take everything he had ever had. His claim to fame. His success. And more…    Adrienne Levi’s mouth twisted in a slightly mischievous smile. Knowing she could get away with this, and it would infuriate him.    “Maybe at the end of the night, you’ll just call me Magnificent.”