#like. when you have an athlete of that caliber on your team you actually do kind of have to structure your strategy around them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

underforeversgrace · 2 years ago

Text

definition of insanity (is doing the same thing)

Words: 11,694

Complete

Warnings: Dash centric fic, multiple references to bullying, suspected depression, and suspected self harm (no one actually hurts themself)

Summary:

AO3

It was only eight AM, yet Dash was quite confident in his feeling that this day was going to be absolutely perfect. Today was his sixteenth birthday and absolutely nothing bad could happen today.

It didn’t hurt that he was the most handsome, popular, and athletic male in the entire school. What could possibly go wrong on a day like today?

Dash grinned as he lounged right inside the front doors of the school. None of the teachers would reprimand him, no one wanted to risk losing the income the sports he played brought in, especially with how often walls and windows had to be rebuilt in the ghost central of America. His day was made all the more amazing when the nerd he’d been waiting for finally ran in, not noticing Dash.

Fenton ran too close beside Dash - this kid really did not have a single bone in his body concerned with self preservation, Dash had long since learned.

“Just who I wanted to see!” Dash yelled, grabbing Fenton by the back of his shirt collar and slamming him into the lockers beside them. Fenton yelped, in surprise or pain Dash wasn’t sure nor did he care.

“Oh lay off, Dash, I’m already late! Can’t we reschedule for lunch?” The loser whined, not even fighting back where Dash had him bodily lifted off the ground. Dash’s chest swelled with pride every time Fenton did that - Fenton knew he was no match for someone of Dash’s caliber and didn’t even try to pretend he was.

Good. Nerds belong in their place.

“But I had to tell you happy birthday!” Dash sing-songed as he dropped Fenton to his feet before bringing his knee up and slamming it into the loser’s stomach. He grunted, dropping to the ground with his arms wrapped around his center.

Originally, Dash had been quite annoyed to learn he and Danny shared the same birthday. Until he’d learned that he was older (by seventeen minutes) and it meant he would never forget Fenton’s birthday.

And was there a present so sweet as beating a freak on his birthday? Dash couldn’t think of any.

Dash couldn’t help but laugh at the two of them, alone in the hallway, Fenton brought to his knees in front of his superiors. Dash pressed one of his feet against Fenton’s shoulder and pushed, knocking the skinny teen over.

When Fenton looked up at him after that, Dash could’ve sworn he saw his eyes flash green but they immediately returned to their normal blue, hatred practically radiating off the kid.

“See you later, Fenturd!” Dash said, walking away. He couldn’t break his toy too early in the day, after all! That knee to the gut would leave a spectacular bruise already.

Man, life really was great when you had it all.

By the time lunch rolled around, the entire school seemed to have told him happy birthday - either out of friendship or fear. Personally, Dash liked the fearful ones even more. They held a sense of accomplishment, like the state championship Dash had led both the football and basketball team to last year, as a mere sophomore! He was the King of this school and absolutely no one was going to forget that.

Dash only knew of three who hadn’t told him happy birthday, but they were so small as to not even matter. He’d already beaten Fenton to the floor earlier, after all. Those three were the absolute rock bottom of the social ladder.

Still, Dash took great pleasure in body checking Fenton into the wall as he walked by, sending Fenton’s books tumbling to the ground.

“Still graceful as ever, huh, Fentonina?” The jock said with a smirk. Fenton just rolled his eyes, not even seeming to care it was just the two of them.

“I know you’re a little slow in your head, Dash, but you said no to the reschedule, remember? You already got your potshot in this morning.” Fenton scowled.

A single, solid punch to the face was Dash’s only response, feeling cartilage crunch and fold beneath his fist as he broke Fenton’s nose.

“What the fuck is your damage, Dash?” He demanded, voice muffled as he pressed his hand against the red dribbling out of his nose.

“You’re the only one here who’s damaged, loser.” Dash sneered, picking Fenton up and shoving him into his own still open locker, slamming the door closed and spinning the combination dial around to lock him in. He heard what sounded like Fenton banging the back of his head against the locker wall.

Feeling his task accomplished and his victim thoroughly bullied, Dash sauntered off to the cafeteria.

Of course, this is Casper High, so successfully finished lunches were few and far between. Not even five minutes after getting his helping of Questionable Slop, the hunter ghost who’d chased Dash and Phantom last year was there, screaming for the ghost child to show up. One of these days, Dash would figure out why a badass like Phantom apparently spent so much time around the school, he decided as the black and white form of their ghostly hero shot like a bullet through the lunchroom, catching Skulker in the stomach(?) with his elbow and forcing the both of them out the window, shattering the glass spectacularly.

“Now’s your chance, Dash!” Paulina urged to his side. Dash nodded, leaping from his seat, checking his pocket to make sure the paper was still there.

Feeling the soft crinkle of the worn paper where he wanted it to be, Dash marched out where the ghosts had gone. He did, however, use the door eight inches to the left of the window, deciding he did not want to be getting stitches today.

The fight hadn’t gotten very far, Dash realized as he slowly approached, keeping himself hidden behind some bushes.

“Come, whelp! Let your pelt adorn my bed!” The hunter declared.

Seriously, ew. What kind of nut was this guy before he died?

“Skulker, I’ve said it before, and I always hope to never say it again - stop trying to skin me!” Phantom yelled, throwing a green blast of energy with accuracy and speed that would have an MLB player salivating.

Skulker didn’t have time to dodge, catching the blast in his shoulder and getting knocked down. “But it is your birthday, child! What better present could there be than becoming a prized trophy in my collection?”

Phantom froze. “My birthday? You know it’s my birthday?”

“And your first death day!”

Dash scrunched his nose. First of all, hell yeah! He shared a birthday with the coolest ghost/person/thing ever! Second of all, did Phantom die on his birthday? Dash, entirely lacking the common sense of self preservation one should have after nearly a year under siege by ghosts, popped up out of the leaves. “Yo, Phantom bro, birthday twins!”

Phantom whirled around, eyes wide as he saw Dash. “Get out of here!” He shouted.

Deciding now was absolutely the perfect time like the truly brilliant student he was, Dash stepped closer, fishing the invitation from his pocket. “Actually, I-“

He was cut off with a yelp, jumping back as a blast landed an inch in front of his feet.

“Go!” Phantom yelled again before jumping back into battle with Skulker. Dash, not needing to be told twice, ran away and back into the cafeteria.

“Did you invite him, dude?” Kwan asked, practically jumping in his seat in hopeful excitement.

He was very much not pouting as he crossed his arms on the table, dropping his head onto them like a pillow. “No. Skulker interrupted.” Dash’s head shot up at his next thought. “But, dude, guess what Skulker said!”

“What?” Star asked.

“Today’s Phantom’s birthday!”

“Like. Human birthday or… ghost… birthday?” Kwan said, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“Both. And Phantom confirmed it! Today’s his first death day!”

Kwan’s look of discomfort was quickly mirrored on Star and even Paulina. “What happened to him?” Kwan mumbled.

Dash was quiet as the stark realization of what he’d heard settled. It was the biggest question since the ghosts had came - who was Phantom? How did he die? How long has he been dead? No one truly knew - one news reporter had asked him as he had finished evacuating a burning building. Phantom hadn’t answered, but he’d never looked so murderous, green eyes burning so brightly they hurt to look at through a television screen. The Fentons had then reminded people to never ask a ghost about their death or their life - ghosts were not rational on a good day but those topics could trigger higher levels of violence.

It was one of the few times since ghosts had become commonplace that people actually listened to the advice. Powerful as he was, no one wanted Phantom angry at them.

Dash sat up, running a hand through his blond hair. “Now I double need to invite him to my birthday party. It can be his too!”

“Are you sure? He may want to be alone.” Star pointed out.

“But who could possibly want that? To be alone on their birthday?”

“Maybe the kid who died on his?”

Dash grumbled. “Okay, maybe he’ll want to be alone. But I’m still going to invite him.”

“Just don’t push the literally most powerful ghost to ever set foot - er, fly through? - Amity Park, okay?”

He just nodded, not really paying attention to her words. He was going to make sure Phantom had a happy birthday!

The rest of lunch passed without any more excitement (though Dash noticed it was already over halfway through lunch period when Fenton finally came through), though the school got attacked no less than five more times by the end of the final bell. Paulina, the self-proclaimed gossip queen of Casper High, immediately began spreading the rumor that today was Phantom’s birthday and death day, so more people kept sticking around ghost fights to try to talk to him - Dash included, but Phantom always bolted as soon as the fight ended.

He sauntered through the school, looking for his favorite punching bag, deciding to get one last wailing in before they went home. Perfect, alone by his locker again! Today really was an amazing day.

Dash didn’t even bother with a greeting as he ducked closer to Fenton, driving his fist into his side.

Fenton, quite uncharacteristically, cried out in what sounded like actual pain, catching himself against his locker. That knee to the gut earlier must’ve left an impressive bruise to be hurting that much! Normally Fenton didn’t even bother acknowledging his pain, choosing to egg Dash on. Now, not even a single bit of talk back!

“Happy birthday!” Dash called, shoving Fenton back in his locker. Man, Fenton really did need to eat more, he was way too underweight. Not Dash’s problem, though!

Wiping his hands together and congratulating himself on a job well done, Dash walked away, towards the football field. There was no practice today, but it was a nice day outside, so the A-listers were meeting up at the bleachers.

Once again, however, after only a few minutes of them sitting there, ghosts decided to show up.

They all scrambled out of the way as soon as Phantom’s body collided with the plastic seats, collapsing several.

“Seriously, Plasmius, I am not in the mood!” Phantom snarled as the vampiric ghost appeared in front of him, cackling like a cartoon villain.

“Not enjoying my birthday present to you, dear Daniel?” Plasmius purred in a way that made Dash’s spine uncomfortable. The A-list, now long since used to the ghost fights, hadn’t gone very far away, just the opposite end of the bleachers, sitting down and resuming their chat. Or, they pretended to, they’d learned that listening to Phantom’s fights were troves of knowledge about their mysterious savior.

“You?” Phantom practically screeched, rising back to the sky, green crackling angrily in his hands. “You’re the one who told them it was my… death day and birthday?”

“Oh no, little badger! In fact, they were the ones to tell me it was your death day! I merely shared the knowledge it was also your birthday.”

The teenaged ghost lowered his hands slightly, the ectoplasm wavering some. “They knew it was my death day? How? Only three of us were there!”

Plasmius’s eyes were positively glittering as he responded. “Your screams were heard for miles, I’m told. Not a fun way to go, and by your own hand nonetheless!”

Dash nor the others had time to process that particular bomb before the ghosts moved too fast for human eyes to follow.

In an instant, Phantom was in front of them, highlighted and cast into shadows by the green behind him, falling to the ground as smoke rose from his chest, his suit burned clear through.

“I am so fucking sick of getting pushed around!” Phantom yelled, pushing himself back to his feet. Dash’s eyes widened at Phantom’s words. Despite being a teenager, no one had ever heard the dude swear. Or sound this furious, Dash would’ve been willing to bet.

The white haired ghost stood, not floating, seeming to plant his feet firmly onto the ground.

And then he screamed.

As fast as possible, the entire A-List had their hands pressed to their ears, watching Plasmius get thrown back.

The scream didn’t last for long, Phantom closing his mouth as soon as the other ghost had been knocked away, pulling the Thermos he always wore from his hip and sucking the other ghost in. As soon as he capped back the Thermos, he slouched forward, groaning. A blue ring of light flickered around his waist before disappearing. Odd, that wasn’t a power they were familiar with him having.

“Phantom?” Kwan asked, though his voice was hard to hear. Dash’s ears were ringing so loudly it felt like metal was being stuck in them.

Phantom tensed at his name, turning around to face them, hopping back up off the ground and floating two or three feet up, summoning ice to his hand and pressing it against himself. At his face, though, Dash wondered if he should be fearing for his life. “What the absolute fuck is wrong with you goddamn morons?!” The ghost yelled, anger radiating from him. “Are your heads entirely fucking empty? Do you want to die or are you seriously just that stupid?”

All of the group seemed to wither under his glare, his power a physical pulse in the air as his familiar white aura seemed to expand and contract. Despite the day’s warmth, Dash felt a chill all the way to his bones, frost beginning to form on the bleachers surrounding them.

“Well?” Phantom pushed, even his voice like the crack that precedes an avalanche.

“We…” Dash tried, coming up empty as Phantom turned his full gaze onto Dash, rage and pain burning in the green glow. Dash had never been afraid of Phantom, not even at the beginning. He’d always been so clearly good. Now, however, Dash realized just how easily the ghost could snap him like a twig if he chose to do so. “I wanted to invite you to my birthday party this weekend?”

Phantom stepped closer to Dash, scowling. “You risked death, you got me shot, to invite me to your birthday party?” Dash could feel Paulina shaking behind him, he had no doubt Star was similarly protected behind Kwan. Phantom was terrifying. “And this isn’t even the first time! I’m tired of getting shot for a bunch of pieces of shit like you all!” Phantom came even closer to Dash, dropping down to match the human’s height, noses nearly touching. He grasped both of Dash’s upper arms and Dash could feel the bruising pressure of his grip, felt ice begin to run down his skin. “I would rather die again than spend a single fucking minute with any of you.”

Hatred laced his every word and Dash paled, suddenly genuinely wondering if he was about to die. Abruptly, Phantom pushed him, sending both Dash and Paulina crashing to the bleachers. “Stay out of the way of my fights. I’m done saving you. This is your only warning. Casper High would be better off without all of you.”

At that, Phantom flicked out of existence, the ice beginning to melt as soon as he did so.

“Dash, your arms!” Star gasped, covering her mouth. Dash glanced down at his bare arms, his jacket having long since been taken off. Dark purple bruises were already beginning to form where Phantom had gripped him. On top of that, though, was the clear imprint of reddish burns in the shape of a human hand.

“What just happened?” Kwan asked, staring around at the damaged bleachers as though he’d never seen the aftereffects of a ghost fight before.

“I’m sure my ghost boy didn’t mean it! He’s just having a bad day!” Paulina piped up but it was obvious even she didn’t entirely believe it.

The entire encounter left a bitter taste in Dash’s mouth. He’d never seen Phantom that angry, his powers raging so uncontrollably.

“…did Phantom kill himself?” Dash finally asked, Plasmius’s last words echoing in his mind even as Phantom’s scream settled into memory. They’d always assumed Phantom had been something like them - a jock, the ruler of the school, putting his human enemies down as swiftly as he did his ghostly ones. For the first time, Dash was beginning to doubt that.

“I think it’s time to go home…” Star said, hopping down the bleacher steps. The group nearly immediately disbanded, each heading to their own homes.

Dash’s steps were slow as he walked, jacket pulled securely back on. Getting assaulted by Phantom was not something he wanted anyone to know about or to ever speak of again.

Had Phantom really meant it? All of it, any of it? That Casper was better off without them? Of course not, he couldn’t, Dash was the star of over half the sports teams at the school, surely that mattered. But being done saving them? Had they really gotten him shot that often?

Had he really jumped in front of them to protect them so often, yet none of them even noticed?

A rock seemed to settle in his stomach, a feeling he was unfamiliar with clenching around his heart. Dash paused in front of his house, staring up at it. His parents’ cars were both gone, they must still be at work. He walked up the paved entry path, stopping to sit on the front stoop.

This was absolutely the worst birthday ever. What had he done so wrong that Phantom would apparently rather die than be around him and his friends? Would Phantom ever forgive them? Or had they just damned themselves to living in a city of ghosts without their only good protector?

He ran his fingers through his hairs, sighing. “I wish I could take it back. Do it over and get it right.” He said to the still air, the smell of his mother’s flowers wafting over to him. At least they smelled nice. His arms twinged. They’d been somewhat numb, still recovering from Phantom’s sub-zero grab, but seems they’d finally fully waken up he determined as it felt like fire laying into his skin.

Deciding that he absolutely was not the type of person to talk to himself on his front steps smelling the flowers, Dash went inside and (after researching it some on the family computer) pressed warm compresses against his injury. How in the hell does ice burn? It’s literally the opposite of fire! Which is what burns! At least football season hadn’t started yet, still in the early weeks of the school year. Every time he moved his arms or had any small contraction of his muscles, he ended up clenching his teeth together harshly as new flames seemed to circle his arm.

Deciding he was very much over today and that the pain was rapidly getting worse, Dash went to the bathroom, pulling out an old bottle of pain medication from an injury last year. He’d never really taken them, but he knew they knocked him out like a light.

Maybe tomorrow would be better.

“Wakey wakey, son! It’s time to get up!” His mother’s voice said, grabbing his arm and shaking him. Dash whined something incoherently, tucking his head further under his covers. “C’mon, baby! It’s your birthday! Up and at ‘em!” She called and he heard the sharp click clack of her heels against the hardwood floor as she walked out. Dash pushed himself up, keeping the covers around him like a cloak with a hood as he blearily looked around. A yawn, an eye rub, and then suddenly his brain turned on. It wasn’t his birthday. Was his mom okay? That had been yesterday!

Relinquishing his hold on his very soft and comfortable armor and letting it crumble to the ground, Dash hurried downstairs.

“Happy birthday!” His mom and dad called at the same time, his father setting off one of those little popper things. Was something wrong with both of his parents? The table was set just as it had been the previous morning - confetti pancakes with syrup, a single lit candle stuck into them.

“Are you guys okay?” Dash asked. “We celebrated my birthday yesterday.”

“Don’t be silly, Dash! Today’s your birthday!” His father said.

“Did you two hit your head or something?”

Mom rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, dear. Go check the computer if you want - today’s your birthday. I wasn’t even in town yesterday, I got home last night, remember?”

Dash, determined to help his parents out of whatever fugue state they were in, immediately beelined for the computer. He was, however, entirely stumped when the computer reflected back yesterday’s date - his birthday.

“Told ya so!” His mom sing-songed, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing gently. “You probably just dreamed it, dear.”

Dash hadn’t entirely heard her after she’d gripped his shoulder. He’d tensed, suddenly remembering the injury Phantom had given him, only to be surprised when there was no pain. He glanced back and forth between both arms - unblemished, unbruised, unburned. Had he dreamed the previous day? It had felt so real, though.

Thoroughly spooked, he returned back to the kitchen, pretending to laugh with his parents at his silliness, digging into his pancakes. He changed out of his pajamas and was out the door shortly after.

Something seemed to tingle at the edge of his senses - a feeling he couldn’t place, a sense humans didn’t possess. It spoke of wrongness. On arrival, he made his way to his locker, where he knew his friends would be waiting. He was, however, quite concerned when Paulina began to talk about the awful thing her cousin had said to her last night - something about her hair? - even though he didn’t really care. What he did care about, though, was this was the exact same thing she’d opened with yesterday. There was no way Dash had dreamt it. Was he in Groundhog Day now or something? A freaking time loop? But that was the stuff of fiction!

Then again, ghosts had been, too, until last year. What was the reason for the time loop in that movie, again? Falling in love with his coworker? That wasn’t helpful. As far as he knew, he didn’t harbor any secret loves. He also didn’t have coworkers. Well, maybe the guys on the sports teams? Would those count as coworkers? Hm, he’d have to think on that more later, he decided, as he noticed the time. For the first time that day, a grin had blossomed on his face.

Bullying Fenton on his birthday was absolutely worth the weird time loop.

Like yesterday, Paulina peeled off to her class as he walked towards the front door, lounging in the same place as before. Fenton came stumbling in at the same time, Dash caught him the same way, throwing him into the metal lockers.

“In a hurry, Fen-toenail?” He chuckled.

“Oh lay off, Dash, I’m already late! Can’t we reschedule for lunch?” He protested.

Wow, that was a hard hit of deja vu.

“I have to tell you happy birthday!” Dash laughed, kneeing Fenton in the stomach again, watching him fall to the floor. He decided to mix it up a little - he kicked Fenton, hard, not the gentle push he’d done yesterday. Fenton let out a harsh breath, winded and knocked to the side. Again, he glared at Dash with passionate hate.

His eyes must’ve caught the lights the same way again, appearing to flare green for a moment before fading to blue.

“Later, loser!” He called, heading to class.

Again, Dash collected happy birthday wishes like the taxman collected money - mostly out of fear.

And again, he slammed into Fenton, sending the nerd against the locker and his books to the floor. “Geez, watch it, loser! Do you know how hard it is to get the smell of freak out of this letterman?”

“You didn’t reschedule, you got your potshot in this morning. Screw off.”

With all the elation of a kid on Christmas morning, Dash again broke Fenton’s nose, red spurting like a fountain. Not even waiting for Fenton’s responding quip, he threw Fenton into the locker.

Dash paused before he got to the cafeteria, trying to decide what he should do differently with Phantom when Skulker showed up. Maybe not announcing his presence would be a good idea? Yeah, perfect! Just wait for Phantom to catch the ghost and then invite him to the party! Surely he’d be in a better mood!

Into the lunchroom he went, not even bothering with getting a meal as he waited. Right on time - Skulker appeared, Phantom shortly after and through the windows they went. Much more careful this time, Dash followed, listening to the conversation again.

“Come, whelp! Let your pelt adorn my bed!”

“Seriously, Skulker, I am not in the mood. Fuck off before I Fade you.” Phantom hissed.

Huh, that was… not what Phantom had said on the previous today. Shouldn’t everything be exactly the same, if he doesn’t interfere with it?

Skulker laughed. “Is it your birthday or your death day giving you that much confidence?”

Phantom came to a stand still. “You know that? How do you possibly know that?”

“We heard you die, child!”

“H…heard me…die?” Phantom stuttered, staring at the metal ghost dumbfounded.

“You’ve got quite the scream on you, whelp. Even when entirely human! Every ghost within twenty miles heard you!” Skulker shouted. Phantom was stunned and looked slightly distressed. The hunter smirked, firing a missile at Phantom while he was distracted, blasting him into the tree behind him.

Phantom slumped to the ground and for a panicked moment, Dash wondered if it had knocked him out. Both Dash and Skulker were entirely confused as they realized he was shaking with laughter. Slowly, Phantom rose from the ground, hovering there as he continued to vibrate with mirth.

“Uh… ghost child?” Skulker asked, lowering his weapon. Considering he was made of metal, his expression of sheer confusion still managed to be quite obvious.

“Y’know what, Skulker?” Phantom said, setting his feet on the ground. “I’m actually glad to see you.”

“Are you… okay…?” The metal ghost asked awkwardly.

“No, actually, no, I’m not. I can’t kill my human bullies, even if I do have the urge to snap his fucking neck everytime I see him. But you?” A nearly sadistic grin spread across Phantom’s face. “You, I can beat into a pulp without remorse. Or, well. Scream into one.”

Dash barely had time to cover his ears as he recognized the stance Phantom was getting into, the same one from the bleachers yesterday. Uh, not yesterday? Whatever. Skulker, much like Plasmius previously, was thrown away by the shock waves. Again, Phantom didn’t hold the scream long, just long enough to hit Skulker, who seemed to have lost consciousness from it. Or not? His body wasn’t moving but Dash could definitely still hear muffled shouts from the ghost.

Phantom marched forward to the dark metal, shoving his hand into Skulker’s body, fishing around for a moment before pulling out a little green ghost, who continued to yell.

“Thanks for reminding me about my Wail. I forgot how quickly it knocked out your suit.” He said, sucking the small ghost up, leaving the metal body in the dirt.

Perfect, now is his chance! Dash walked forward, into Phantom’s line of sight. “Yo! Couldn’t help but to hear we share a birthday!” He called.

Phantom’s eyes narrowed at him. “That’s unfortunate.”

“Huh?”

“That’s unfortunate. I don’t want to share anything with someone like you.”

Dash’s jaw dropped. He hadn’t even done anything today! He’d done better! Phantom didn’t acknowledge him further, instead focusing on the other ghost’s metal suit. Dash watched as he summoned a huge ball of ectoplasm into his cupped hands, letting it grow larger and larger until he slammed it down onto the suit.

Dash held up his arm, protecting his face as shrapnel seemed to fire everywhere, no piece big enough to truly cause harm, but still littering him with small cuts, the spot where Phantom had fired a blackened starburst in the dirt.

“Leave me alone.” Phantom said before flying off.

Dash sulked his way back to the cafeteria. He had done things differently! He hadn’t interfered! Why was Phantom so angry with him? It just didn’t make sense! Dash adored Phantom!

He didn’t mention Phantom’s birthday this time, hoping it would encourage Phantom to not be so flighty after the many more attacks that day - seriously, were the ghosts doing this because it was his birth/death day? - but he still fled as soon as possible.

Dash ran into Fenton several more times that day and Dash hurt him every time - punching, kicking, pushing. He was hurt by Phantom and he needed an outlet for it. He could practically feel Fenton’s anger and hatred rise even higher each time, though still he never struck back, knowing he wouldn’t stand a chance.

He still shoved the nerd into his locker on his way to the football field, an idea in place to make Phantom like him again. An idea he quickly launched into action as soon as Phantom crashed into the bleachers.

“Plasmius, I am this fucking close to snapping if you don’t leave me the fuck alone.” Phantom growled, the sound nearly animalistic, as he lifted himself from the debris.

“Daniel, it almost sounds like you haven’t enjoyed my birthday present to you today!” Plasmius said, still in that voice that gave Dash a feeling of wrongness.

Tuning out the fight, Dash grabbed at Paulina and Star’s arms, pulling them out of the way. They followed, Kwan behind them, as Dash pulled them further away from harm.

“Uh, you good, dude?” Kwan asked when they reached a safe distance and Dash let go.

“More importantly, did that ghost just say it was mi amor’s birthday?” Paulina said, glancing around the large tree they were behind to watch the fight.

“Uhh…” Dash started. He hadn’t actually told any of them about the time loop. His friends, as much as he loved them… well, there was a reason they forced the chess club into doing their homework and Dash did not feel like explaining something he himself did not understand. “Well, you heard Phantom. And all those fights today! Dude seemed on edge and I didn’t want to risk getting in between them.”

Kwan and Star just shrugged, accepting his response. “Paulie, I think you’re right. That vampire dude definitely said it was Phantom’s birthday.” Star said, swapping the topic.

Their conversation was caught off by an explosion behind them. All four poked their heads around the tree, concerned and curious.

Plasmius had been slammed into the ground, Phantom standing over him. Actually standing. He grabbed at Plasmius’s collar, his aura seeming to whip and crack, nearly electrical in sound. He leaned down further over Plasmius and began absolutely wailing on the dude.

No powers, no quick wit. Just a fist repeatedly to the face, green soaking further into Phantom’s white glove with each throw. He didn’t relent for over a minute, finally straightening up, blood (ectoplasm?) splattered across his face, breathing heavily as though he had over exerted himself. Since when did Phantom breathe?

“More like me every day, hm, child?” Plasmius croaked from where he lay, bringing a hand to his face to rub his cheek.

Phantom didn’t say anything, instead slamming his foot down onto Plasmius’s head as he grabbed the Thermos, trapping the ghost he had so thoroughly just wailed on.

“Oh, my ghost boy, you’ve saved us again!” Paulina cried out, running towards him with her arms outstretched, the others following close behind to keep up with her. While the other three stopped, Paulina continued to propel herself forward, jumping for the ghost.

Phantom, scowling and covered in green, sidestepped her, causing her to launch herself onto the ground. “I didn’t even know you were here.”

“I got us out of the way!” Dash proclaimed, puffing his chest out. Star went to help Paulina up, who was staring at Phantom in shock.

“Congrats, you have a single brain cell. Did you expect a cookie?” Phantom asked.

“Well, I, uh… I thought…” Dash stuttered. Yes, he absolutely did expect praise. He shifted gears. “I wanted to invite you to my birthday party!”

Phantom sighed deeply, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “Dash, listen to me for a minute, okay?”

“Of course!” Dash said eagerly, ready to cling to every word his hero spoke.

“I fucking hate you. All of you.” Phantom said, staring into Dash’s eyes. Dash felt his soul wither some, that hurt to hear. “I could not care less about you. You lack empathy, general human decency, and any semblance of kindness. I honestly and genuinely do not give a fuck what happens to you. You are a useless waste of space and I’m tired of pretending any different. There is not a single redeeming quality in that empty blond head of yours.” Phantom’s eyes swept over the other three. “None of you are any different.” He returned his gaze to Dash. “And I would genuinely rather die again than attend your party.”

Dash felt like his entire soul was collapsing. The one thing Phantom had said today that was the same - his absolute refusal of Dash’s party.

Bomb thoroughly dropped and detonated, Phantom jumped into the air and flew away, leaving the four A-Listers shell-shocked where they were.

“He… can’t have meant all of that, right?” Star asked, glancing at her friends. “Right?”

None of them had a good answer. Phantom’s hatred was so strong the taste of it lingered in the air.

Again, chastised and shamed, they split up and headed home.

Dash genuinely didn’t understand. He’d done so much better with Phantom today - staying out of his way, getting his friends out of the way. He hadn’t gotten hurt defending them. So why did he seem even angrier?

Dash arrived home as though in a fog - his thoughts all-consuming yet fleeting and faint. Heading straight to his room, he dropped heavily into his desk chair. Finally, well away from watchers, Dash started to cry.

Sure, other people had insulted him before, condemned him for his bullying. But never people whose opinions actually mattered. Phantom was the one person in this world that Dash actually gave a damn what he thought. But this was two days in a row that his hero, the person he most looked up to, practically flayed Dash alive with just his words.

Snippets of things he’d heard over the two days forced themselves to his mind. From the sounds of it, Phantom had been bullied and then killed himself in a spectacularly awful manner on his own birthday. It still just sounded so fake. Sure, that’s always the ‘dangers’ of bullying but it was just a scare tactic, people didn’t actually do it. At least not anyone he’d ever known.

Then there was the swearing. Phantom had always been known as someone who didn’t swear. He had been furious and abandoned the PG language.

It just didn’t make any sense. Dash couldn’t understand Phantom hating him. Cool people just didn’t dislike Dash, and Phantom was the coolest person around (both literally and figuratively).

The rest of the day saw Dash running circles in his mind, unable to accept Phantom’s hate and wondering if tomorrow would be today again. Other than making Phantom apparently dislike him more, there had been no significant changes. And movie logic said something good had to change for the main character before the loop would break.

When he awoke the next day to more confetti pancakes, Dash hoped more than anything this birthday was better than the past two.

Again at the school, Dash dutifully pretended to care about Paulina’s cousin. Once that wrapped up, he again hunted down Fenton. Dash was not having a good birthday and he needed an outlet. If Dash’s birthday was bad, then Danny Fenton’s was going to be worse. So Dash gave him the worst beating of the last three days that morning, not even bothering with banter as he slammed the smaller teen’s head into a locker. By the time he was done beating Fenton, they were both very late for class and Fenton was on the floor, leaning against the lockers, looking slightly dazed.

By the time lunch rolled around again (and Dash shoved Fenton into another locker), Dash had determined that school sucked enough but learning the exact same thing three days in a row was something akin to torture.

…even with learning it so many times, though, Dash probably still wouldn’t remember it come test day.

Dash settled into his normal spot and - when Phantom sent Skulker flying through a window - he remained there. He couldn’t piss off Phantom before the afternoon if he just didn’t interact with Phantom.

A position he continued to hold throughout the day, not even trying to disturb the ghost after the many other fights during school hours.

When he went to the football field (after making sure his favorite nerd had been taken care of), he was extremely confident in Phantom’s acceptance.

This time, though, it was Plasmius who was bodily thrown through the bleachers.

Well. That was certainly different.

��Daniel,” the vampirish ghost drawled, brushing plastic chips off his shoulder, “are you having that bad of a day?”

“Yes.” Phantom replied simply, blasting the offending ghost as Dash pulled the others away once more.

If anything, Phantom was even more brutal when he beat down his target, too, before capturing him. He’d also been injured a lot more, burns on his sides, arms, shoulders.

“Dude, are you okay?” Dash asked, stepping around the tree.

Phantom didn’t really answer, only growling in Dash’s general direction.

“Mi amor?” Paulina asked, moving in front of Dash and reaching for Phantom. “You’re hurt!”

Phantom barked a laugh. If he was going for an insane look, he was absolutely nailing it. Covered in green blood, rips and singed material littered over his suit, he looked more than slightly unhinged.

Dash walked forward, gently pulling Paulina behind him. “Phantom, are you okay?”

“Have you stopped being a piece of shit or grown a heart?” He retorted.

Dash felt his stomach sink. Phantom was still angry with him and he had no idea why. This was the third day in a row like this! And Dash was so over it. “What the hell is your problem, dude?” He asked, clenching his hands into fists.

“What’s yours?” The ghost shot back. Apparently noticing Dash’s fists, he grinned. “What? Gonna hit me?”

“What? No, of course not!” Dash responded, though he desperately wanted to. He was sick and tired of being disrespected by this ghost he held in such high esteem.

“Of course not,” Phantom scoffed, crossing his arms. “Bullies are cowards who only torment those weaker than them. You wouldn’t know a fair fight if it slapped you across the face.”

The other popular kids stayed behind Dash, wide-eyed and speechless at the interaction.

“Phantom…” Dash started, remembering some of the conversations that now never happened. “Were you bullied when you were alive?”

The ghost’s face immediately sobered. No longer looking like a mad man, he now just looked tired. “Yeah. You know what? Yeah, I was.”

“Is that why you’re dead?” Kwan piped up from behind Dash.

Phantom didn’t answer, instead dropping to sit on the ground, dropping his head into his hands. “I didn’t care about living anymore,” he confessed and they heard him begin to cry. “I didn’t care what happened to me and was reckless. And then I died and it still didn’t stop.”

The four of them looked at each other in bewilderment. None of them had actually expected an answer, expected Phantom to be having what appeared to be a mental breakdown. Sat like that, crying into his knees with his arms wrapped around himself, he didn’t look like a badass. He looked like a tired kid. Dash could tell the others were thinking about the sharp increase in ghost attacks today. Dash, however, was suddenly comparing himself to the crying hero in front of him.

He had heard enough the first two times he lived this day to know the ghosts had targeted Phantom specifically because it was his birthday/death day. Dash had targeted Fenton for the same reason. In this scenario, he was more like Phantom’s enemies than Phantom.

“Why are you like this?” Phantom asked. “What do you people get out of injuring and belittling someone else? How do you not care that you may be a catalyst to their deaths? I don’t understand. I just don’t.”

As the ghost continued to cry, the four looked at each other. That same feeling Dash got the first birthday rose up - a rock in his stomach, a pressure in his heart - but a name finally associated itself to the feeling. Guilt. Shame. And, now, a touch of fear. Bullying was supposed to be mostly harmless fun, not that serious. A way to reinforce his position at the top of the high school food chain.

He thought of stories of vengeful spirits - the old, scary stories before myth became real - as he listened to his hero cry. He thought of Fenton - of his escalating anger today, of Dash’s own escalating violence - and suddenly considered what Fenton would be like as a ghost. He’d kill Dash, wouldn’t he? Ruled by anger and vengeance.

Whoever had made Phantom’s human life hell must be incredibly lucky. Phantom had even said he wanted to kill his bully, but refrained from doing so.

Kwan was the one who eventually answered. “I… don’t know.”

Phantom chuckled though there was no humor in it. “Of course you don’t. Your victims are nothing to you other than sadistic fun.” He looked up from his knees, looking at the popular kids in front of him. “And you never even try to be better.” He sighed and returned to his feet. Then he was gone in an instant, flying away in a blur of black.

Dash wasn’t entirely sure what to think of the look on Phantom’s face. He’d been a force of pure terror when he was angry the past few days. But Dash almost felt like he’d rather see that side of Phantom again before seeing this one. No matter how angry he got, he still didn’t lash out. But that sadness? That hurt in the way your parents looking at you in disappointment did. And Dash found he didn’t entirely like that feeling.

“So, like, does anyone else suddenly feel, like, kinda sick to their stomach?” Star asked softly.

“Yeah. I don’t think we can blame it on cafeteria food this time, though.” Paulina answered, nearly meek compared to her usual self.

They separated silently. Is this what people called a life changing event? Had Phantom’s human bully gone through it when Phantom had died?

Unpleasant as it was, Dash was grateful this was the event. Suddenly he was unsure of his belief that bullying didn’t really kill people. And Dash most certainly didn’t want death on his hands - in general or in a city with strong ghostly ties. He had some comfort in knowing Phantom’s death wasn’t his fault.

He fully expected tomorrow to finally come. He’d learned a life lesson, so movie logic said it was time to continue forward.

However, when he awoke the next morning to another birthday breakfast, he was well and truly confused. What else could he do?

Maybe he had to put his lesson to practice? Get through the day without bullying? He wished he knew why he was in this time loop.

That day, he didn’t wait for Fenton at the front door. He simply went to his first period class and learned the same thing for the fourth time. And just like before, he did not take notes. There was only so much change someone could do in a single day (even if that single day took up four days).

His second period class, he shared with Fenton. Every now and again he glanced over at the teen, remembering Phantom. He imagined Fenton with ghost powers, with the ability and drive to take revenge.

He imagined learning Fenton had died and that Dash had driven him to his early grave. More and more came to mind at that thought. The Fentons, grieving a dead son, no longer building the weapons and shields that kept the town safe. Phantom and the Huntress did good jobs, but people still needed to be able to protect themselves until the hunters could arrive. The school, knowing what he did, blaming him for another student’s death. He doubted he’d be able to keep his position at the top of the school with blood on his hands.

The worst image that filtered in was a headstone and a fresh grave, with the name of a teen he knew, a teen he unknowingly convinced that a coffin was better than breath.

He felt guilt at just the possibility of it. Phantom’s breakdown yesterday had made sure that he’d never have to feel guilty for real.

He tried his best to focus on his classes but honestly, they were just so freaking boring! But at this point, maybe he had passively absorbed enough information or whatever to get a good grade on the next test, otherwise he’d have to wallop Fenton.

Wait, no. No walloping. No taking out anger on someone else. No hitting people except on the football field.

When he passed Fenton’s locker on the way to lunch, the brief mental image of a funeral was more than enough to keep his feet going forward. And when Phantom tackled Skulker out the window, he stayed in his seat. Mostly. Ducking under the cafeteria table whenever a ghost appeared was second nature at this point. Once Skulker had been successfully evicted from the room, he returned to his food, snickering along with several others as Lancer sighed, going to get the broom to clean it up.

When Lancer passed one of the tables, though, Dash temporarily paused. The teacher had gone in front of the table where Manson and Foley sat. Yet where Fenton was notably absent from. Dash hadn’t shoved him in a locker today. Why was he still late?

When Fenton once again walked in halfway through lunch, Dash was thoroughly confused. Was someone else bullying the weirdo? How had Dash not heard of it? He wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that. Dash was now the only one alive who had seen Phantom’s pain, everyone else’s memories forgotten. Like the previous days, Dash didn’t bother explaining the whole repeating day thing. He’d get around to telling them when tomorrow finally came. He was repeating enough conversations without adding that one in.

Shrugging, Dash determined it wasn’t his problem. Even if it was bullying, it wasn’t any that Dash himself was responsible for, plus it couldn’t be that bad if Dash never even noticed it, with all the time he spent tormenting Fenton. So he continued on with his day, studiously avoiding Phantom’s fights. He’d try to invite Phantom to his party again during his fight with Plasmius later in the day, but he also wouldn’t push. He very much did not want to hear Phantom’s declaration of dying again being better than spending time with Dash’s group, thanks.

When he passed by Fenton’s locker for the last time that day, he had to admit he was proud of himself. An entire school day and he didn’t bully a single loser! This whole being a good person thing was actually kinda nice, he determined. So he continued on his way to the bleachers, not even acknowledging Fenton as he had for the entire day. Ignoring his existence wasn’t bullying, after all! He was reasonably certain of that.

Dash was the first one there this time instead of being the last as he had the past few todays. He plopped down on one of the seats in the front row, enjoying the gentle breeze on a warm day.

The sound of a metal clang drew the jock’s attention, glancing around for the source of the noise, just in time to see what looked like Foley’s stupid red hat disappearing under the bleachers. Huh? Had that always happened? Or had he changed something?

Curious and bored, Dash got up, heading over to the side Foley had gone under, peeking around the corner.

All three of them were under there - he could see Foley’s and Manson’s faces but Fenton’s back was to him. Worry burned on both faces he could see. Fenton had his shirt partially lifted, apparently something on him was the source of the concern?

“Danny, what the hell happened?” Manson asked, leaning forward and pressing a hand to Fenton’s stomach.

Whatever she touched, it made Fenton hiss in pain and pull away from her. “Kitty had a gun.”

Huh? What the hell kind of sentence was that? And why did the other two seem to accept it as a perfectly normal answer?

“They’re really gunning for you today, huh?” Foley said, looking off into the opposite distance. Wimp. What could possibly be so bad? Fenton was clearly standing on his own. Maybe a paintball gun or something?

“You’re telling me. I haven’t gone longer than thirty minutes between each of them. Apparently, Vlad was nice enough to tell them about my birthday so they could all bring me presents.” Between who? Who was Vlad? The only Vlad Dash could think of was Amity’s mysterious mayor.

“Ugh, seriously? That guy is beyond a fruit loop, dude.” Foley said, shaking his head.

“Want to tell me something I don’t know?” Dash had never heard Fenton sound so tired. If nothing else, not bullying Fenton was absolutely worth it. Everyone knew there was something going on with them but no one knew what - most people’s best guess was they were all screwing each other. Dash made sure to keep quiet, being mindful of the metal bars around him. This could make for some amazing gossip!

…gossip wasn’t bullying right?

“Well, you need stitches. Is that something you knew?” Manson asked, moving to her knees and digging around in her spider shaped backpack.

Uh, what?

“I kinda guessed, yeah.” Fenton said, him and Foley joining Manson on the ground.

Uh, double what?

Manson pulled out a white kit from her bag and Dash felt rooted to the spot. Foley sat down near Manson and Fenton laid down on the ground, though he sat his head in Foley’s lap. Foley immediately began brushing his hand through Fenton’s hair.

Huh, maybe there was something to the rumor about them all sleeping together? Or at least the guys.

Dash nearly felt sick when Manson pushed up Fenton’s shirt, showing a large, deep gash on him, nearly the full length of his stomach. Who the hell had done that? And why was Fenton so calm? What was going on?

With fascinated horror, Dash silently watched Manson literally thread a thick needle and push it through Fenton’s skin. Fenton buried his head further into Foley’s lap and Foley leaned down closer to him as Fenton gripped at the other’s shirt.

There was something inherently wrong about the scene in front of him. Three teenagers - sixteen years old, like him - one laid out on the dirt while another stitched flesh together with what seemed to be practiced ease. Slick red blood trailed down Fenton’s stomach, stained Manson’s glove-less hands, practically glittering each time the light caught her hand the right way.

Throughout it all, Fenton never made a single sound of pain. Somehow, that was the worst part. Other than pulling Foley close to him, he just wasn’t reacting.

Dash heard as Fenton let out a loud, long sigh. Foley and Manson both began looking around, suddenly on high alert. Dash pressed himself further into the shadows, tensing when their eyes scanned over his spot. They didn’t seem to notice him, though.

“Seriously? Who is possibly left?” Foley asked, reaching into his pocket and pulling out… bracelets? that he slipped on. What in the name of football was going on here?

“Guess it’s time to find out.” Fenton said, moving to sit up, Manson stopping him before he got very far by placing a hand on his chest.

“I only got half of it stitched. Be careful and try not to bust them?” She asked, also pulling silver bracelets onto either wrist.

The longer he watched, the more lost Dash became.

“Don’t I always?” Fenton said, batting her hand away gently, pushing himself up to his feet.

Red continued to drop down his stomach, staining his skin, bleeding into the waist of his blue jeans, half open wound still weeping. Yet he just pulled his dark red shirt back down, the blood spot only visible as a dampness in the fabric.

“I’m not in the mood for hide and seek!” Fenton yelled, turning in a small circle, eyes sweeping the same way his friends’ had. Foley and Manson followed his lead, coming to their feet, their backs all pressed together as they gently spun. Goth and geek both raised their arms, hands pointed in front of them.

If Dash hadn’t just seen them treat Fenton as though it were a common occurrence, he may have laughed. They looked ridiculous, two of the three with arms held in front of them, yet all had looks of seriousness on their faces.

“Are you having a poor birthday, little badger?” A familiar voice asked.

His breath caught in his throat as the Wisconsin Ghost popped into existence, a cruel grin on his face.

“Y’know what? Yeah, I am. And it’s been a whole twenty minutes since I punched anything, so you’re right on time.” Fenton shot back, moving to stand in front of his friends protectively. “I got this, guys. Get out of the damage zone.”

What? What? What?

There was no way that was Fenton standing there, glaring into the face of the ghost considered to be one of even Phantom’s strongest enemies. Not Fenton, who had meekly taken beatings from a human boy. Dash, strong as he was, was still a toothpick to be snapped in half when compared to a ghost.

Manson and Foley ducked and ran, leaving Fenton and the ghost alone, Dash trapped in his hidden alcove. The ghost didn’t even acknowledge the two running away, merely crossing his arms over his chest as he hovered there.

“Now, Daniel, is that really how to speak to your elder?” Plasmius asked.

Wait. Wait, hold up, back up, rewind, be kind, restart, whatever. He’d heard something like this before. The ghost saying Daniel. But he had said that to Phantom, why now to Fenton?

Dash glanced around furtively, wondering if Phantom was actually here. Wait, duh, of course Phantom would arrive any moment now! He’d been here the other days!

“Well, at least you’re admitting you’re elderly.” Fenton said, smirking. “Maybe time to stop wearing a cape, hm?”

Plasmius’s grin dropped into a scowl and he summoned a pink blast to his hand, throwing it toward Fenton. Suddenly, Dash was trying to remember if he’d ever seen Fenton again after this fight, realizing he hadn’t. Does Fenton die today?

Sure he was about to see his classmate burnt to a crisp, he felt like his brain was short circuiting as Fenton leaped out of the way.

“Says the child in pajamas playing hero.” Plasmius said, his face returning to a neutral expression.

What the fuck was happening? Like, seriously? How had it only been a few minutes of this and how did he only have more questions without a single answer? Fenton was most definitely not in pajamas!

“Hey! I like my suit!” Fenton shouted, though it nearly sounded playful.

Someone. Anyone. An answer. Any answer. A single breadcrumb of context.

Plasmius shrugged. “Be that as it may. I didn’t come here to talk.” He said, blasting pink at Fenton again. Dash made a strangled noise as the shot connected with Fenton’s chest, slamming him backwards into the fencing, the sound of the impact mercifully covering Dash’s sound.

Fenton, his shirt slightly smoking, stepped forward. “No, you came here to get your ass kicked.”

No. No way. Was Fenton threatening Plasmius?

Plasmius smirked, reaching out and waving his hand in the universal ‘bring it on’ movement.

Fenton was threatening Plasmius… and Plasmius was goading him on?

“Goin’ ghost!” Fenton shouted, jumping into the air.

Dash.exe has stopped working.

His entire mind went blank as he watched the scene in front of him. Fenton was suspended in midair, far higher than he should’ve been able to jump and then not coming back down. Light swallowed him and nearly blinded Dash, yet the quarterback didn’t even blink. He saw the entire transformation, saw his weak, spineless classmate fade away and leave behind Phantom.

“Just for you today, Vladdie,” Phantom said, summoning energy to his hands. “We have a two for one special going! Two beat downs for the price of one!”

With that, Phantom shot forward, sending himself and the other ghost beyond the bleachers, leaving Dash alone underneath.

He released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and lowered himself to the ground, legs suddenly made of jelly. He didn’t understand. He had seen it but his brain didn’t understand what it meant.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there when he heard Phantom yelling halfway across the field, words muffled by distance. Dash remembered the first today - Phantom had gotten hurt protecting them. From the sounds of it, without Dash’s influence, the others had remained there and history repeated itself. But Phantom didn’t sound as angry this time. Fed up, but not furious the way he had that first day.

Because Fenton was Phantom. Because Fenton had spent the entire day being beaten by both ghosts and Dash. Because today was the anniversary of Fenton’s death.

Dash froze as Phantom phased in through the bleachers, settling on the ground, holding onto his side.

He didn’t remember speaking, didn’t remember telling his mouth to move. But nonetheless, he did. “I’m sorry.” Dash said.

Phantom whirled around at his voice. “Uh, you alright there, citizen?” He called, coming towards Dash.

“I know.” He said.

“Know what? You good? Come on, can you stand?” Phantom asked, stooping down to Dash’s level. He took Dash’s hands and pulled him to his feet. Regret, guilt, shame flooded him, stronger than any other iteration of today, as he felt the ice of Phantom’s body as the hero helped him. The chill of the grave.

“I… saw…” Dash tried to answer, but his tongue felt foreign to his own body. His entire being felt oddly disconnected from itself.

Phantom frowned as Dash swayed, reaching up and holding him steady by his upper arms, though he didn’t burn Dash with ice like he had the first day. “What did you see? Did something happen? C’mon, focus on my voice and try to ground yourself.”

Dash tried to say it, tried to say the human name for the ghost in front of him, but the word eluded him. “Your stitches were only half done. Were they always only half done?” The other times, had Phantom fought with that injury half mended? Or had Dash caused a delay the other days, Phantom having to fight Plasmius with his stomach sliced open?

“What did you just say?” Phantom said, jerking away from Dash. Without the ghost there to help him, he sunk back to the ground. Even his eyes felt confused, colors wrong and the world a little too tilted.

“She didn’t finish them. He arrived too early.”

“Dash. What did you see?” Phantom asked sharply, voice tinged with an emotion Dash knew so well. Fear. He’d heard it in so many others. An emotion that had always been a thrill to him, a success.

When was the last time Fenton had actually shown him fear? Or had he been a mere annoyance this entire time? Just a small delay to be forgotten immediately?

Well, it certainly hadn’t been forgotten at all. Phantom had grown angrier, crueler, the more Dash bullied him.

“Dash!” Phantom yelled, shaking him briefly. “What did you see?”

Dash looked up, Phantom’s face coming into sharp relief even though everything else seemed to be collapsing into colors and shapes Dash didn’t know. “Fenton.” He finally managed to say.

Phantom’s eyes widened in panic. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Danny said, pacing back and forth, though his feet didn’t actually appear to hit solid ground.

“The… the time loop… was this the lesson?” Dash thought aloud. Reality was slowly fading back into his consciousness, bringing back color and thoughts he didn’t want to acknowledge.

“What?” Phantom asked, stopping his pacing.

“I’ve been in a time loop. I’ve lived this day before.” Dash answered. He tried to push away the truth, the evidence in front of him, the realness of this situation. It pressed in on him even harder.

“Fucking Clockwork,” Danny swore. He squatted down in front of Dash, feet arched as he rested on his toes. “Tell me what’s happened.”

Dash didn’t want to. He didn’t want to think, to relive. To face what he’d done. But he had to. This was Phantom, his hero. This was Danny Fenton, his victim. “I… it’s… a long story.” He choked out.

“I’ve got time.” His classmate’s ghost said.

There was no avoiding this. The truth was collapsing into him and was impossible to stop. “This is the fourth day. The first day was just… normal. All the same ghost fights as this version of today. I was… my normal self. I was there with Skulker. I learned it was both your… birthday. And death day.”

Phantom paled, his aura seeming to dim.

“When Plasmius attacked, we didn’t get far enough away and you got hurt because of it. We… we had wanted to listen to your conversations. And Plasmius was talking.” Dash finally felt tears prick at his eyes. “He said you died painfully. And that you did it to yourself.”

Dash was shaking his head as he cried, let the knowledge of his actions burn into his mind. “It’s my fault. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Fenton. I never thought anyone would actually die!” He insisted, but it felt hollow as his eyes burned.

“I…” Phantom started, settling into a fully sitting position. ‘It isn’t… You…” He went quiet.

Dash pushed forward - he had begun, talked about the loop for the first time, and the flood gates weren’t going to close again. “You yelled at us. Called us… names we probably deserved. Burned me. And when I woke up the next day, it was my birthday again. The same things happened. I was worse, though. I acted worse. Hit harder. I stayed out of the way in the Skulker fight…” He trailed off, remembering how Phantom had laughed.

How he’d said he wanted to murder his human bully. Why hadn’t he? Dash would be no match for Phantom - for Fenton.

“I only popped up after you had caught him. You were angry with me. I didn’t know why. And I took my anger out on… well, I got us away from the Plasmius fight. I thought it’d make you like me. If anything, you were angrier. The third day, yesterday, my yesterday at least, I just wanted to understand why, how to make it right. But… I also decided that since I wasn’t having a good birthday, Danny Fenton couldn’t be allowed to either.”

And he’d taken every beating. He’d get beaten by a ghost just to be turned into Dash’s line of fire. He never fought back.

Dash looked up at Phantom. He was holding himself, looking firmly at the blank ground. What was going through his head, Dash wondered? “I didn’t follow you for the Skulker fight. Didn’t bug you after any of the others during the day. The whole day, though, I was beating you so hard my knuckles hurt. That day after the Plasmius fight was the worst.”

“Did I hurt you again? I’m sorry.” Phantom mumbled into his knees.

The entire scene seemed to play on fast forward in his memories. Phantom’s words, Phantom’s cries. Remembered his certainty Fenton would’ve killed him. “No.” Dash finally answered. “You cried.”

“I what?” Phantom asked, incredulous.

“You cried. Completely broke. Told us you stopped caring about your life because of the bullying. And we just… we finally realized what the consequences could be. And I couldn’t do it anymore. Not after seeing the ghost of a dead teen like that.” Dash chuckled before he continued. “I was afraid I’d push Fenton too far and he’d come back as a ghost to get revenge.”

“So the difference today was just you not bullying Fen…” he sighed. “Beating me.”

A laceration cut so deep into Dash’s chest he was surprised when there wasn’t a real wound. He’d seen the change. He knew who Phantom was. But hearing it, the acknowledgment, somehow made it all the more real. Regardless, he nodded. “I got here early today. I saw Foley. I followed.”

“So you saw everything.” Phantom groaned, leaning his head onto his knees. “Dash,” he pleaded, “you can’t tell anyone. They’ll kill me and that’s the good option for what’ll happen.”

This time, Dash paled. He hadn’t even considered that. “I already… already caused your death once. I don’t want to again. This is my fault.”

“If it helps, I’m not, like, entirely dead?” Phantom offered. “And it’s not like I committed… died intentionally.”

“Would you have done whatever reckless thing it was that killed you without me?” Dash asked.

Phantom fidgeted some. “It was an accident.”

“What I did wasn’t.” He said.

Uncomfortable silence filtered into the air, neither sure where to go from there, until Dash remembered what else he had said. “What do you mean not entirely dead?”

He didn’t say anything, plucking off one of his gloves and reaching towards Dash. “Look for a pulse.”

Dash did as he was asked, though he nearly recoiled when he touched Phantom’s icy skin, so cold it hurt. “There’s nothing there,” Dash said guiltily. As far as he could tell, Fenton was very dead and just good at hiding.

Light flashed around the ghost again, the bleachers suddenly feeling dark when they disappeared, Phantom’s glow gone with it. Only a very normal looking Danny Fenton was there now, clothes bloody, sat beside Dash. “Now try.” He said, shaking his arm slightly.

It was faint and it was slow, but it was there. Dash made a sound of confusion, unable to articulate anything more complex than that.

“I’m half ghost. An accident with my parents' portal. Apparently dying between two worlds is a good way to not die,” he said, laughing softly at the end of it before returning to being serious. “I don’t recommend it though. Dying and coming back wasn’t pleasant.”

His screams could be heard for miles. Dash remembered both Skulker and Plasmius saying.

“Why didn’t you come for me?” Dash finally asked, the one question he had held back.

Fenton paused, resting his chin on his knee. “Honestly? Because hurting people is wrong and I didn’t want to be like that.”

Quiet stretched between them.

“Will you really not tell anyone? Can you even keep this secret?” Danny asked softly. “From everyone you know?”

“This town would collapse in a week without Phantom,” Dash answered. “And I don’t want any more guilt.”

“Can you do something for me?”

“Uh, sure? What?”

Danny studied Dash’s face. “Stop hurting people. Try to get the others to stop. Don’t just stop with me. Be better. Even if I didn’t take my own life, there is already a ghost haunting Casper who did.”

“Sidney Poindexter is real?” Dash asked. “I thought he was made up.”

“Nope, he’s real. One time he even thought I was bullying you and got pissed at me. Can you believe it?”

Dash snorted at the idea of Fenton bullying him. The old Fenton would’ve been too weak. The new Fenton was much stronger than Dash, in morals as well as strength. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m stopping. This isn’t who I want to be.”

“Good.” Fenton said, standing up, pressing a hand into his stomach. “Now, I’ve gotta go and get the rest of these stitches done.”

“I’m not sure how I completely managed to forget that. Are you okay to… travel?”

He shrugged. “I’ve had a lot worse. I’ll live.” He grinned. “As much as I ever do. For now, though, I’mma die right quick.” And again the transformation swept over him. He was up in the air and gone with the win without another word.

There were no confetti pancakes the next time Dash woke up.

#Grace writes #danny phantom #danny fenton #dash baxter #Phic phight 2023 #Phic phight

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2024skin · 3 months ago

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The fact that a member of the board said "they could not commit to calling khelif 'biologically male'" strongly implies that khelif was identified as intersex, not just as a typical xy male. Klinefelter syndrome produces people with varying sex attributes; caster semenya is an intersex athlete who has female genitalia externally, but discovered she had KS when a health check up she got as an Adult revealed that she has testicles that never descended and do Not produce the testosterone output of descended testes.

I've seen on your blog that you think women who produce too much testosterone should not be allowed to be Olympic athletes because they have an unnatural and unfair advantage over over women, despite the fact that numerous disorders specific to females can cause women to have higher than average testosterone levels.

However, I personally think that the phenotypic characteristics of a person's anatomy says more about their sex than their genetics. If a person is born with a vagina, they are going to be oppressed bc of what the vagina represents in a patriarchal society, regardless of what genetics say. Algeria is not trans friendly. Imane Khelif's parents, by all public accounts, raised her as a woman and tried to prevent her from joining boxing because it was "too masculine" for someone like her. Based on all the public information about her, it seems extremely unlikely that her parents, her primary schools, and her female boxing and football teams all spent extended time with Imane and Never noticed descended cock and balls.

Based on all the public info available, imane khelif is Most Likely an intersex person with female anatomy, who has spent her whole life dealing with misogyny and the other burdens of being female. She is also the latest in a line of black women to have her womanhood acknowledged by other black people but called into question by white people who deem it Impossible that a black woman could out perform her white counterparts without lying and cheating. She may also be the second viral case of a black, intersex Olympic athlete having their private health information involuntary broadcast to the world because no one could accept that a black woman can be the top of her field without trying to discredit her.

I will advise you like I have done to others to read menalez's tag about caster semenya, the last intersex athlete to get virally scrutinized like Imane Khelif has been. Menalez breaks down Semenya's scores, using sources, in comparison with other male and female athletes in her caliber. These posts were honestly a big reason why I began reading into klinefelter syndrome, why I believe that having it doesn't mean that the affected person will always anatomically function like a man, and why I believe that the testosterone boost Semenya receives from being intersex is not comparable to the testosterone boost a female athlete gets from doping or that a male athlete gets from functioning testicals. I believe my views on Semenya translate to my views on Khelif because Khelif does Not have the power that actual XY trans boxers have against cis women. Khelif has lost nine of forty matches in her career, and she has never seriously injured a woman the way certain TIM boxers have. How is she really comparable to a man in any way besides Allegedly sharing a chromosome with them?

#long post #discourse #imane khelif

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darkarfs · 4 years ago

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My 10 Favorite WWE Matches of All Time (updated)

10: The 2001 Royal Rumble No matter how daft and stupid the product gets, I will never not stoke my head in around January. The Royal Rumble is my favorite match, but this one is my favorite favorite instance of that match. The pacing, the beautiful endurance of Kane, the hardcore interval (which Kane just decides to destroy), the Big Show returning after 4 months just to get shit-canned a minute into his run. There is so much to love about this mess. The preview of Rock and Austin that year for their Wrestlemania showdown. The fact that 4 or 5 of them (Rock, Austin, Kane, Undertaker, even Rikishi) could have been main event contenders. The best midcard in WWE history. Scotty 2 Hotty having the worst night of his life. Drew Carey just showing up. Bradshaw just cliffing everyone, because he's gotta get his shit in. Good Rumbles are like a 3 course meal, and this one is like all your courses at once, and then dessert is a treat you could die on. 9. Tyler Bate vs. WALTER - Takeover Cardiff Crowds make a lot of matches for me (thanks, 2020) but this crowd is especially electric, and for 24-year-old Tyler Bate, who is taking on a TANK, and that tank's name is WALTER, a TANK. But I will never not be a sucker for a David vs. Goliath story, and it was never better told than the boy made of thighs vs. the destroyer made of shattering palms. It is SO CARNY, so many feats of strength, so many OOOOOFS AND UUUUUURGHS that make this so great. Tyler was a hero on this night, but everyone knew he wasn't ready to win. Every feat is a magnificent reach. And it all means something to everyone. Make them what they know SHOULD happen and still surprise them with it. His "refusing to quit!" only to get shut down by a fucking chop. HE STANDS but is immediately ruined. It makes me. This shit fucking makes me. 8. Sasha Banks vs. Bayley, 30-Minute Iron Woman Match - Takeover Respect Most of this is just a remix of their epic and warranted classic in Brooklyn. but then Sasha takes the headband off of Izzy. And then they both stepped it up and were *amazing*. We somehow lost Bayley's "RAAAAAH'S and that's sad for me. But then they RAMP IT UP. NOBODY LIKES YOU. FUCK YOU. WE'RE HAPPIER NOW. (WE'RE NOT.) But seriously, Sasha taking Izzy's headband and then THROWING IT AT HER started something special, something grand. THE OUTRAGE. The bastion of heel heat. And then the match got better. They hugged at the end of their encounter in Brooklyn, but then they started poisoning one another. And it all started with this amazing match. (Also, Bayley's amazing red and gold robot tights.) 7. Kurt Angle vs. Shawn Michaels, Wrestlemania 21 Listen. HBK's 'Mania outings with the Undertaker are solid "match of the decade" contenders, piss-easy. They are peerless, they are in a league of their own. But saying they're your favorite? Unless you are an actual wrestler, that's like saying "UH, MY FAVE BAND IS THE BEATLES." Ya boring, ya basic, and we can all do better. And seeing how I'm in my late 30s, I understand wrestling a little different than I did when I made this list in...2016??? Christ. I bet AJ Styles vs. John Cena was on it that year. Two of the best performers, both in their prime, and looking back on it, I just prefer the mix of character dynamics at play. Angle is easily one of the best in the world, but he has such an inferiority complex, because he's an Olympic gold medalist who is told *nightly* that he sucks, and he CAN'T best Michaels. He keeps coming back, and he's so charming, so effortlessly good at this whole "wrestling" thing, and it's slowly making Angle, who SHOULD be all of those things, absolutely *spare.* And that informs so many spots and story moments in the match itself, specifically when Angle LOSES it and starts shouting at him, only to have a superkick partied under his face. Angle is one of the best ever because his wrestling acumen served his character, never once defined it. 6. Vince McMahon vs. Shane McMahon, Wrestlemania 17 I haven't gone back to watch the whole of Vince vs. Shane THAT many times. What I have done is watch the finish about 65 times. There is something so addictive and magical about that one pop, when Linda stands up from her chair, and the ENTIRE crowd stands with her. And I'll 100% agree that Vince's comeuppance - one slap, one hoof to the balls, a Mandible Claw and a Coast-To-Coast dropkick - is not NEAR the actual comeuppance he should have gotten for some of the deplorable shit his character got up to from around the Rumble to this match (two of which they've done their very best to scrub from history, they're THAT bad.) But it's the purest example I can think of, of that pantomime aspect of wrestling. Vince McMahon is a deranged bastard. He likes dumb, cruel, crude things, but his commitment to being the world's 2nd-worst lizard man makes some of the stuff that happens to him more richly rewarding than almost any retribution in any medium, ever. The final 4 minutes of that match, the crowd is a fireworks display. They rise, they explode, they rise and explode, over and over. And again, shoutout to my boy 2020 for making me miss a crowd THAT big having THAT good a time. 5. Adam Cole vs. Johnny Gargano - 2 out of 3 falls - TakeOver New York Now look, I'm not saying that NXT is essentially perfect for me, in terms for what I look for in wrestling. What I will say is that when it cooks, it combines the very best of indie stamina, choreography and stunt work with something WWE sometimes gets VERY right, and that is unabashed, unironic emotion. And it's not even that the intimacy of NXT being a smaller promotion has a denser, more specifically passionate fanbase. It's just the fact that NXT understands that so often, nuance and drama in wrestling doesn't come from promos, or swerves, or endless escalations of said drama, but from getting the FUCK out of the way and letting two of the best in the world *wrestle.* NXT is so good for providing context for the acts of jealousy, pride and entitlement, and then laying out a match that touches on all of these emotions throughout. This main event, built in two weeks, after a terribly-timed Ciampa injury, is actually VERRRY clever booking...disguised to look really simple. Cole starts the match as the crowd favorite, because he's the cool tweener everyone likes (with a catchphrase) to Gargano's unironic Disney prince. Over the course of Cole going all out, making subtle references to Johnny's feud with Ciampa, Gargano fighting from underneath, total fuck-off bastardry from the Undisputed Era (making poor Mauro Ranallo yell "YOU SNAKES!!") Maybe Cole WAS the better choice, but by the end of it, you didn't care. On that night, Johnny refused to lose, and the constant, exciting, *involving* wrestling dragged you to that emotional place. Damn right, you deserve it. 4. CM Punk vs. John Cena, Money In the Bank 2011 It might be a simple choice, but also, sometimes, it's really really gratifying to see a crowd who wants something get what they fucking want for once. A hot crowd makes a good match great, and a great match THIS. A crowd united, either for one guy, and against another, and in this case, BOTH. It makes every. Move. Matter. Trying to find a new angle on this match is like trying to find a new way to say fire is warm. And this crowd created a CAUSE. The no-sold pinfall, the attempted rehash of the Screwjob. Point out the botches if you must. The angle, the promo...it got my friends back into wrestling, a reason to care until the Shield. It's not the best, but it deserves to be. There is no wrestling crowd I wish I was more a part of. And I was at King of the Ring 1998. 3. Kurt Angle vs. Brock Lesnar, 60-Minute Iron Man match, Smackdown of September 18, 2003 It MAYBE was a bit of a "hipster" choice to name this my number 1 in 2016. But you know what? Bloody holds up. Two performers who feel "destined to do this forever," like a Triple H/Shawn Michaels, or a Kevin Owens/Sami Zayn. Possessed of freakish physical charisma, could go for days if pressed. Brock Lesnar, literally at the time ONE OF THE BEST ATHLETES in the WORLD being a lazy fucker and taking DQ points, laying the foundation of what Brock Lesnar would come to be known as. And Angle, in that rare position of everyone knowing he's the best thing going. Brilliant Lazy Asshole Brock and Certified Wrestling Machine Angle are two of my unironic favorite characters in all of wrestling, and it's a buffet of THAT. Like a Royal Rumble, only it's just two dudes, being the best they've ever been. 2. DIY vs. the Revival - 2 out of 3 falls - TakeOver Toronto "Tag team wrestling?" says main roster WWE. "What is this...tag team wrestling?" Well, this is it, at its absolute best. It's up there with Rey Mysterio and Edge vs. Chris Benoit and Kurt Angle from No Mercy 2002 for just brilliant, rock-solid tag team psychology. There are more story opportunities when there are more rules to break, how can WWE *not get behind that?* In terms of chemistry, both between opponents and between teams, in terms of callbacks like Johnny muscling through the exact same inverted figure four that lost them the belts in Brooklyn. It is a perfect match. Not an ounce of fat on it. And that closing sequence, of each member of DIY locking the Revival in their signature holds, and the men now known as FTR clinging to one another. It's probably the best tag match in the history of the WWE, and considering the caliber of tag matches on TakeOvers, is FUCKING saying something. 1. Daniel Bryan vs. Brock Lesnar, Survivor Series 2018 This match is everything I always hoped for. For the longest time, after the 2015 Royal Rumble debacle, when Reigns won, when simply everything we knew about storytelling said "no, of course it should be Bryan," I wondered what that 'Mania match would look like. If it were anything like this, I would have died a happy man. But then again, what makes this match so GOOD is that Bryan had just come back from an early retirement caused by head and neck surgery, and here he is, being dropped on his head and neck by Brock Fucking Lesnar, aka what would happen if the concept of "not giving a shit" gained corporeal form and starting shilling for Jimmy John's. The match gets really ugly, really fast, and Bryan takes us to uncomfortable places with his selling. It wasn't just the retirement angle, it was also the fact that Brock had turned out some REALLY lazy shit by that point in his career, so we had all mentally prepared for another finish-spamming early night. And then. AND THEN... Bryan hoofs him in the walnuts, hits the running knee, gives us the absolute closest 2-count of the decade, and then the fight is fucking on. Bryan went, over the course of 2 minutes, from never having a chance against Brock Lesnar to it being an *absolute certainty* that he was going to BEAT BROCK LESNAR. Anytime you visibly leave your seat every few seconds during a match, you know it's a special one. Again, it took me away, had me absolutely *screaming* at my monitor, elated, invested, and I don't know what more your favorite match can ask of you. But what happens when your favorite match isn't a match at all? No. 0: The Firefly Funhouse - Wrestlemania 36 I'm not kidding, it actually might be my favorite thing. It could be just my brain latching onto the Cult of the New, but I don't think so. It's not a match, I get it. It exists in a weird null-void outside of time and space, but mostly I am floored that they would broadcast something so virulently anti-WWE. Like, we talk of CM Punk and how WWE let him get away with all his little jokes and cut his little Pipebomb promo. But then WWE signed off on Bray Wyatt tearing the soul out of their business. Burying the biggest star of this generation, skewering and laying bare all of terrible WWE's terrible priorities, and also celebrating insider knowledge, wrestling history, and I just...love it. Right now, it's my favorite thing WWE have ever put out, because it did something they've never done before, told a story I didn't think they were capable of telling. And sure, it was Bray who told it, but I still can't believe it aired. But I am endlessly thankful that it did.

#wwe #favorite matches #long post

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shinjukuspiritcommittee · 5 years ago

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Health and Sports Team Building 1

Fan Event 1

Location: ???

Oh, you’re back. Why? Because you wanted to…? Or maybe… because you felt you had to? You really didn’t get much of a say in it I’m guessing. I’m in the same boat I guess. A lot of the things I know just get decided for me and I don’t ever have any control in what I do. It’s why I asked. I’m just curious if you ever felt that way, that’s all…

~~~

Location: Shinjuku Academy

After another long day of classes, it seemed a well deserved respite was in order for you and your friends. You let loose a rather loud yawn which your friends took notice to. “Finally gettin’ tired of classes?” Kengo teased. You explained that wasn’t quite the case, but rather just exhausted altogether from the lack of sleep.

This seems to have alarmed Shiro. “Oh really? I wonder what could have kept you up.” Shiro’s cold gaze pierced through your sleepiness. You panicked a bit while you responded that students from Yoyogi Academy had kept you out a bit later than normal on your way back. “Hmm, well you are quite popular so it’s no surprise.” You tried to deny you were that popular…

“I agree with Shiro.” Moritaka added. “You are quite known after all that’s happened this past year.” The comments made you a bit sheepish and you wondered aloud if they really thought so.

Ryota laughed. “Yep! There’s just something about you that draws in all sorts of folks. You’ve made a lot of friends too and get involved with all these crazy schemes.” Ryota had a point all things considered. Especially since your sports academy friends did give you a personal invitation to go to their school for their Health and Sports day event. This surprised your friends. “Are they allowed to do that?” Ryota asked with a bit of concern.

“Most cases, no.” Shiro replied. “But since we all celebrate Health and Sports day differently…”

“Whaddya mean? Don’t we all just get the day off?” Kengo asked.

“We do, but Yoyogi Academy is still one of the few prominent schools in Tokyo that still celebrate Health and Sports day. Schools all across Japan used to celebrate it but over the years it’s importance has dwindled quite a bit. At the very least Yoyogi Academy tends to draw out a bit of a crowd every year given the number of athletes that participate so it makes for a nice excuse to watch them compete.” You commented that sounded like a fun day and get a bit excited at what sort of events they might compete in. “All sorts of things like a relay race and tug of war.”

“I once heard they did a Cavalry Battle. Is it true!?” Ryota asked with an equal amount of excitement.

“It’s one of the more uncommon ones but I believe there was…” Shiro pondered. Those didn’t quite sound like normal games. Now you were more excited to see such events play out. You even suggested all your friends should go. “Well, I’m not against going to watch.”

“Lame.” Kengo replied. “If you’re gonna go to a sports school the least you could do is not act like a total bookworm!”

“And maybe you might learn a thing or two about better health habits.” Shiro quipped right back.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, really. Just all those sweets are gonna catch up to you one of these days.”

“...You little-”

Ryota couldn’t help but laugh at the two’s bickering as it was commonplace for the two to act like that while Moritaka sighed. Ryota continued on through his laughter “While I’m not the biggest sports fan, I’d love to go watch and cheer too.”

“Hmm, perhaps I could hone my skills with their sports clubs.” Moritaka added. “Do you think they have Kendo students?” That actually reminded you that they do. In fact, you met one yesterday…

One day earlier

Location: Shinjuku Park

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” A girl with her brunette hair tied up in a pony tail asked you as you were on your way back while on your guild patrol. You took a mental note of her uniform and how her hair was quite unkempt. However familiar she was not a girl you’ve interacted with before. “You sure?” You suggested she might just be mistaking you for someone else. “Hmm… not really. I couldn’t forget a face as cute as yours~.” Well- Wait, hold up. Cute? “Yep.” She chuckled as she took a comical step forward, getting close but not quite touching you. Just who was she?

“That’s enough Yui.” Durga said as a small group of three Yoyogi students jogged up to you; Kyuma, Gunzo, and Durga. “Tatsuya was right, you’re gonna scare people just running up like that.”

The girl who was apparently named Yui backed away from you laughing to herself. “C’mon, can’t I have a bit of fun? They’re totally someone who definitely looks like they need a date~.” You interjected what that was supposed to mean. “That you’re cute. You think so too, right Durga?”

“W-What does that have to do with me!?” Dura stammered out while blushing from embarrassment. “Besides, this one’s a pal of ours!”

“What a funny coincidence!” Gunzo laughed. “Guess we took our jog a bit too far up. So what brings you the way out here?” You didn’t want to burden them with your responsibilities too much so you simply said you were out for a stroll since it was Shinjuku Park. While everyone else was convinced, Yui took notice something of you. You noticed but neither of you said anything.

“Well, whatever the case it’s good to see you again!” Kyuma said. “David’s pretty happy to see you again too.” You were glad David and Kyuma were doing well. “We’d love to stay and chat but we should probably head back soon. We’ve gotta make sure everything is ready for tomorrow.” What was happening tomorrow?

“You haven’t heard? Sports Day is coming up.” Gunzo answered. “Its basically a day when we all take the time to learn more about healthy living. Well all of us in the Academy at least.”

“Yeah, it’s mandatory for us…” Durga sighed. You pointed out she didn’t sound very excited. “Yeah, well… the work’s kinda boring and we had to waste a bunch of good days for training to set up for some boring lectures! It’s definitely dreadful!”

Yui then cut in. “That’s no way to talk! We get to do as much outside as we do inside, remember? Can’t have fun without a little torture!”

“Oh, right! I almost forgot about those since I didn’t do any of that work…” She admitted bashfully.

“It’s too bad you can’t play with us.” Gunzo said to you. “It’d be great to be on the same team again!” You actually brought up your school was giving you the day off and you didn’t have much planned so a day outside sounded like a bunch of fun. “Wait, seriously!? Some people get all the luck…” He grumbled while Legion murmured to him you were still there. “Uh, I mean-! That’s great! Totally!”

Kyuma then got on board with the idea. “That sounds like a lot of fun! I hope we get to play against each other!” You told Kyuma you looked forward to it. “Alright! I’m getting pumped just thinking about it!”

“Whoa, hold up a sec!” Yui jumped in. “You can’t just invite anyone to play in these events with us… can you?”

“Well, I’m sure Mr. Arima or Mr. Avarga could get you approved.” Kyuma suggested.

“Hmm, actually… Tatsuya’s been at the infirmary a lot lately… maybe he can help.” Yui brought up.

“Ever the reliable Den Mother.” Gunzo said. “I’m sure he’s able to convince Mr. Arima. The two are also doing that seminar together, right?”

“Yeah, I think…” You were confused by who they meant. “Oh, right. Tatsuya is a classmate of ours and a member of the Kendo club like me.” Yui explained. “I’ve known him for quite a while… hmm, maybe you two should meet sometime.” He sounds pretty nice. “Yeah…” She said that with a bit of concern in her voice.

“He really is! He’s always helping us around campus and all sorts of smaller things.” Gunzo said.

“Though his lectures…” Durga sighed. “He’s almost as bad as the coaches about studies…”

“Well, maybe if you did study a bit more and got your grades up he wouldn’t be so hard on you.” Kyuma chided.

“Let’s not talk about that! We gotta get back before curfew anyway! See ya!” Durga then bolted off without her other three friends.

“Hey wait a sec- You can’t just ditch us like that!” Gunzo cried out as he and Kyuma charged after her.

Yui looked back at you a bit nervously. “Y-You know… you really should come. I know it’ll our friend happy!” You said you would but what made her so sure Tatsuya would be happy. “He just… would, okay? I can just tell by looking at you! Anyway gotta go bye!” She then charged off after her friends too leaving you by yourself to ponder what to do.

Present Day

Location: Shinjuku Academy

Everyone remained silent as you recounted your story the whole way through. They all took a minute to process what was said until Kengo finally spoke up. “Some just have all the luck.” You asked what that meant since it didn’t seem out of the ordinary for you. “You always get invited to all the fun stuff!” I-It’s not always… was it? You were just the one who had the free time to do so. Besides there wasn’t any harm in extending your invitation out to your friends.

“Yeah, that sounds good at least!” Ryota said. “It’s too bad Toji is gonna be busy tomorrow. I’m sure he would have enjoyed that lecture they were talking about.”

“I know I’m curious.” Your advisor stated. “It’ll be nice to get a change of pace for a change too.”

“Now you’re talkin’!” Kengo whooped.

“I’ll be accompanying you as well then. I would love to test my skill against athletes of that caliber.” You were confident Moritaka could stand his ground and even beat them. “I’m not trying to be THAT impressive. But… it does sound nice.” The canine therian went on sheepishly.

Meanwhile…

Location: Yoyogi Academy Dorms

Tatsuya had wrapped up his work for the day and was ready to turn in early to get a head start on tomorrow’s preparations since he had to do that lecture on mental health with Mineaki and an upperclassmen pretty early in the morning. As he was nearing his room someone called out for him. “Tatsuyaaaa~!” You called out as she jogged over. When she reached him she panted and took a sip of her sports drink. “Man, you shoulda came on that run with us~.”

“Well I was busy.” Tatsuya pointed out while motioning to his bag.

“Oh, right uh…” Yui hesitated at her misspeaking. “Anyway, about Sports Day tomorrow I realized we hadn’t talked much about our plans after that lecture.”

“We haven’t talked much, but I’ve been making plans.”

“What kinda plans?” Yui asked. Tatsuya wordlessly pulled out a paper from his bag and before presenting it to Yui he made her promise to not tell anyone about it. Once she agreed he showed the contents to her and it was all of his approved sports for Sports Day. Yui was taken aback by how many rejections there were. “There’s no way this is real? Can Mr. Arima really pull you from this many activities!?” Tatsuya nodded. However before he could explain Yui continued speaking. “There has to be a mistake. I’m sure I can persuade Mr. Arima to give you a chance. It’s probably your grades or something right? Don’t worry we’ll get this fixed.”

“Wait a sec-” Tatsuya tried to stop her but she took off again for the main building with his paper still in her hands. He took a picture of it so he remembers what sports he was approved for but his main concern was that paper getting lost and getting loose. Tatsuya sighed to himself. “You can’t just fix things because you want to…”

Location: Yoyogi Academy

Yui raced down the halls hoping Mr. Arima hadn’t turned in for the day so she could talk about Tatsuya’s case. While she made it to the office only a student was standing there. “What’s wrong?” He asked as she came up.

“Uh… I was looking for Mr. Arima…” Yui breathed. “Is he not in?”

“You just missed him. He made his way back to the dorms.”

“Dang it, I musta just missed him…” She sighed. “Thanks anyway, er…”

The canine therian replied with “Yasuyori, third year.”

“Ah okay… Uh, you can just call me Yui! I’m a second year. Anyway, thanks again!”

“No problem.” He told her as she ran off to go find him. “Yui, huh? She seemed nice. It’s too bad she missed him…” For some reason he was rather melancholic as he spoke to himself about her.

#not a HC but something I had that I wanted to share #tokyo afterschool summoners #housamo #sfw #OC #fanfic

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lady-divine-writes · 6 years ago

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Kurtbastian one-shot - “An Egg-cellent Disaster” (Rated PG13)

Sebastian suffers a bout of PTSD when Isabelle invites Kurt and their family to an upscale egg hunt. (3308 words)

Notes: This isn't a re-write, but I wrote one similar for K*laine.

Part 38 of Daddies.

Read on AO3.

“Ugh. Can you get PTSD from an Easter egg hunt? I’m asking for a friend,” Sebastian says, glancing over his shoulder as he leads his husband, his son, and his son’s service dog towards the swankiest gathering of New York’s elite that he’s seen in a long time. This isn’t normally how they spend Easter, and if it were up to him, they would have done what they always do – color eggs and hide them around their house, bake Kurt’s mom’s special braided Easter bread, sit on the sofa and watch their little boy eat too many jelly beans until he vibrates into another dimension. They’d run him around the yard until he passed out from exhaustion, then lock themselves in their bedroom and have some adult fun with the ears and tail of an old bunny costume Kurt’s parents sent them one year. But ever since Kurt got his promotion at Vogue, they’ve been attending more events like this over the holidays – outlandish affairs that required them to dress in more-expensive-than-usual attire and rub elbows with the upper crust.

It’s how Sebastian spent a good portion of his own childhood, so it should be old hat to him by now. But the older he gets, the more he values his quiet life. And things like this, which Kurt handles with the grace and energy of a professional socialite, have begun to wear on him.

He can’t blame Kurt for this one. He didn’t choose this. He didn’t even know egg hunts of this caliber existed.

It was his boss Isabelle’s idea.

Sebastian loves Isabelle. Kurt owes her a ton for giving him his big break right after he graduated high school, when he’d moved to New York with no other plan than to survive, which means Sebastian owes her, too.

After this, though, Sebastian might consider declaring them even.

“Having flashbacks?” Kurt teases, taking his hand as they pick their way through the grass over to a roped off area. From what he can see, it’s roughly about the size of two football fields end to end, which Kurt finds astounding since half of the children here look barely old enough to walk yet.

How are they going to cover the length of one football field, not to mention two? They’ll be huddled in one corner, whining over a dozen plastic eggs, leaving an entire section of grass completely unexplored.

“You can say that,” Sebastian says, stopping when Thomas chooses a spot and plops down in the grass. “My parents took me and my brother to one of these stupid hunts every single year. You’d think it would be fun. I mean, it was at the country club, there were other kids, eventual chocolate. But it was never fun.”

“Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t just getting together with our friends and looking for eggs. It was a competition. Our parents were pitting their kids against each other to see whose family was better. But by the end, the other kids didn’t matter. For my parents, it became me against my brother.” Sebastian stops the story there, stops short of telling Kurt exactly how far his parents’ disappointment in him went. He’ll tell Kurt one of these days. But now is not the time. Not in front of Thomas. “It was kind of traumatizing.”

Kurt puts a hand on his husband’s shoulder. “Oh, Sebastian. I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me? We could have found a way to bow out.”

“Because you always get so excited when Isabelle invites you to these things. I didn’t want you to miss it. It’s important to you.”

“Yeah, but you’re more important. One of the most important.”

“You can make it up to me later,” Sebastian suggests, leaning in close so Thomas won’t hear. “You know … nakedly?”

Kurt rolls his eyes, but he didn’t expect anything less. “Look, Isabelle hasn’t seen us yet. Maybe we can …”

“Kurt! Sebastian! Oh, thank goodness you could make it! I was scared you’d get caught in the holiday traffic!”

Kurt sighs. He had always referred to Isabelle as his ‘fairy godmother’ in part because of the dreams she’d been able to help him realize, but also because of her impeccable timing.

It was close to occult.

Kurt mouths sorry to his husband for getting his hopes up while his boss is too far away to notice.

“Isabelle! We wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Kurt feels his husband grimace as he greets his boss with a hug and a kiss on each cheek. “We actually came up yesterday and rented a room not too far from here to make sure we’d get here on time.”

“Fabulous!” she says, kissing Kurt and then moving on to Sebastian. “Make sure you send me the bill!”

“You know I will.” Kurt watches Isabelle move on to Thomas and Hepburn. Thomas may not like being kissed, but he loves Isabelle as much as his parents do, so he sits still and lets her fuss over him, coo about how cute and grown up he looks, so much like his fathers in his smart grey slacks and navy blue button down. “So, what are the rules here?” Kurt asks, searching the grounds for a sign, a poster, a handout, something. “Is there a time limit? Are the kids separated by athletic ability? Or age?”

Kurt isn’t a huge fan of things like Easter egg hunts or baby races. He doesn’t have the patience to handle large congregations of kids and parents. Being a member of the PTA at his son’s school is the farthest he’ll stretch. And even though he wanted to come today, he was hoping to constrict their revelry to family members only, so if they can find their own section of the park to conduct their Easter biz without having to socialize, even with the elite, that would suit him fine.

“You’re making this too complicated!” Isabelle laughs under the assumption that Kurt is joking. “It’s just an Easter egg hunt, Kurt!”

“We usually confine our egg hunting to our house, maybe the front porch,” Sebastian says.

“Yeah. Besides, tromping through the grass in search of hard boiled eggs isn’t the way my father and I spent Easter.”

“How did you spend Easter?” Isabelle asks, realizing that after knowing Kurt for over a decade, she has no clue.

“The way many a well-rounded, musical theater inclined child did. I watched Brigadoon on AMC.”

Sebastian side-eyes his husband with a scowl that makes Isabelle snicker. “How in the hell did you and I ever get together?”

“You decided to stop being a royal idiot about pretty much everything in your life and do something smart for once.”

Isabelle guffaws so loudly at that, Hepburn’s ears prick up.

“Wow …” Sebastian says, mouth agape. “I … don’t know how to respond to that.”

“A simple you’re absolutely right, love of my life, I will never doubt your incredible wisdom in all things again will suffice.”

“Not the direction I was going to go, but okay. As long as it gets me some ass after this is over with.”

Kurt elbows his husband.

Isabelle snorts. “Come on, guys! Let’s enjoy ourselves! It’s a beautiful day! The sun is shining, the sky is blue, and I think the Easter bunny just arrived!”

“The Easter bunny!?” Thomas pipes up from his seat in the grass. “Where?”

Sebastian, Kurt, and Thomas take a gander at the festivities around them heralding the soon-to-be start of the egg hunt. Indeed, the Easter bunny had arrived. But this was not your average, human-sized, department store cottontail dressed in a pastel vest and straw top hat, carrying a basket of colorful, candy-filled plastic eggs. This Easter bunny is easily seven feet tall, dressed in what could only be described as a vintage suit of aubergine brocade with matching purple top hat; a tall, white plume tucked inside the olive green hat band; a gold monocle over his left eye; carrying a hand-carved mahogany walking stick in one hand, and a Moses basket in the other, filled to bursting with eggs, jelly beans, foil-wrapped chocolates, and trinkets and tidbits that catch the light and twinkle like gemstones. He’s surrounded by an entourage of handlers, each wearing an outfit to complement the bunny’s own and carrying baskets of the same treats to hand out to the kids. The bunny and his team walk the perimeter of the field, and a parade forms behind him – adorable little boys and girls bedecked in their Sunday best, dresses and suits that Kurt saw advertised in Vogue for close to four figures. But some of them are dressed in honest to God athletic wear.

Those boys and girls look downright intimidating.

“I don’t know.” Kurt eyes five children dressed in matching track suits and running shoes. “Some of the people here look awfully competitive.”

“That’s an understatement,” Sebastian adds. Back in his day, the kids and parents were competitive as fuck. But this – this is on a whole other level.

“Of course they are! The prizes here are outstanding! Last year, they hid a $10,000 Tiffany engagement ring in one of the eggs!”

Kurt’s eyebrows shoot up so far, they disappear somewhere in the vicinity of his hairline. “Really?”

“Sounds about right,” Sebastian mutters, shivering with the memory of having his hand stepped on by no less than three pairs of dress shoes in an effort to reach a particularly difficult to get at egg. All the kids knew that the farther the lie, the better the prize. That was something the organizers of the egg hunt used to sing as they released the children, like hounds, to sniff out the treats.

He suddenly feels queasy, stomach acids sloshing left to right as he shoves that little ditty aside. But even with it pushed out of the way, he can’t help feeling sick.

Why were they there again?

“They go all out - luxury vacations, spa packages, theater tickets … but don’t worry,” Isabelle says when she notices how pale Sebastian has become. “The emphasis here is on fun.”

“Do they know that?” Kurt asks, motioning with his chin towards a nearby family dressed entirely in Under Armour from The Rock’s latest collection – mother, father, and their five-year-old daughter staring down Thomas like a lion stares down an easy meal.

Under Armour – proud sponsor of Easter and good-natured family fun, Kurt thinks spitefully. He wonders if Isabelle has the same thought as she quickly pulls out her iPhone and starts snapping some pics.

Their attentions are directed upward by the sound of a helicopter arriving, circling the area above their heads.

“Okay, why is that here?” Kurt asks. It’d be easy to assume it’s paparazzi, but there isn’t supposed to be any here. That’s part of the appeal. There are guards posted everywhere to ensure the privacy of the families participating. But they can’t be everywhere at once. It’s possible one or two might get through.

“It’s here to drop more eggs from above! Those are the ones people really go for. Some of them are made out of solid gold!” Isabelle explains, nearly drooling after the words solid gold.

“What the---? That’s insane! Even my parents’ country club never went that far!” Sebastian envisions something the size of a chicken egg made of gold plummeting from the sky and smacking him on the head. That would definitely leave a dent in his skull, at the very least.

Could he survive that impact?

“Ouch!” Kurt kneels beside his son and covers his head protectively while keeping an eye on the sky. “Isn’t this a little excessive? I mean, we have the money to go to whatever spa we want. That’s one of the perks of being rich.”

“That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen!” Sebastian says, pointing towards the sky. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t remember signing a waiver!” He joins his husband, son, and Hepburn, hovering over them in an effort to protect them all when he swears he hears the copter swoop down. “What kid needs a Tiffany engagement ring anyway? This sounds like it’s going to turn into a blood bath!” He meets Kurt’s gaze, his husband’s eyes wide, unsure what to do about this, about this mess he’s gotten them into. “Maybe we should go somewhere else.”

“No!” Isabelle pleads. “Just … give it a few minutes! Please? An hour at the most? I promise we’ll have fun! I’ve been looking forward to getting you out here for this Easter egg hunt ever since I found out you’d adopted Thomas!”

Kurt shakes his head slowly. He is here for work, but that shouldn’t include putting his life, and the lives of his family, in danger! Isabelle is his friend. She won’t make him stay if they’re uncomfortable, especially considering Thomas’s history of anxiety. But there’s a look in her eyes he hasn’t seen before. Not crazy, per se, but slightly unhinged? But not in a bad way? “I don’t know …”

“We’re at a big, private park. There’s a playground and a lake not too far from here. If you don’t like the Easter egg hunt, we can go over there and Thomas can play. But can we give this a try first? Please?”

Kurt looks from a worried Sebastian, awkwardly shielding their heads, to Hepburn, instinctively on alert, back to Isabelle, and sighs. Isabelle means well. She’s from a wealthy family in Columbus, so she probably went to egg hunts like this one, same as Sebastian. Perhaps her experiences were better. With no kids of her own, she probably tries to strong arm all the employees with kids to come to this thing so she can relive her childhood.

Looking at the expression on her face, she seems nothing if not sincere.

In the end, for Kurt, it’s all about Thomas. And his son - playing in the grass, singing a song about the Easter bunny that he learned in school, without a care in the world - seems to be enjoying himself so far.

They’re already here. They drove for hours to get here. And it is a stunning location. They can stick it out for a while, collect a few eggs, dodge the helicopter, grab some punch and cookies over at the refreshment table, and then retire to the playground. They brought Hepburn’s toys with them. They can tire Thomas and his dog out in one fell swoop. It’ll be fine. It might even be fun.

If anything, the pictures will be precious.

“Alright,” Kurt says, feeling the weight of his husband deflating a bit in defeat. He knows that Sebastian was hoping this was their out, and on any given day, falling solid gold projectiles would be. But Kurt is in the unfortunate position of having to juggle the feelings of multiple people that he loves. “We’ll give it an hour.”

“Yay!” Isabelle says. “That’s all I ask.”

“But after that …”

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen! Lads and lasses! Step right up to the starting line! The 53rd Annual Hampton Bay Easter Egg Hunt is about to begin!”

“Starting line?” Sebastian repeats, looking left and right. “What starting line?”

Kurt looks around, too, in confusion. Starting line? He doesn’t remember seeing anything marked starting line. There was only the rope boundary and …

Uh oh …

While they’d been discussing staying or going, they hadn’t noticed that the parade of kids and parents following the Easter bunny had circled round and stopped about a hundred feet away … right where the rope Kurt, Sebastian, Thomas, and Hepburn passed to get in had been set up. There they stood – a mob of adults and children lined up in starting positions, brows furrowed in deep concentration, ready to charge, like a re-enactment of The Hunger Games if the eccentrically dressed inhabitants of the Capitol City were the ones on the attack.

Sebastian, Kurt, Thomas, and Isabelle didn’t know.

Nobody told them.

Nobody warned them.

Nobody seemed to care that they were sitting in the grass, dead center, in the way.

“On your marks …”

“Daddy …” Thomas grabs his father’s hand in both of his and squeezes tight.

“… get set …”

“No, no, no, no …” Sebastian springs to his feet, gearing up to drag the lot of them off the field before the announcer can get to Go!

But he never does.

And not because he’s waiting for them to vacate the field. (Who knows if the man even sees them?) But because the start of the hunt is proclaimed by a gun shot.

The sharp pop hits the air.

After that, the roar of hundreds of feet hitting the ground, along with the frantic screaming of children, is deafening. At the same time, the helicopter above releases its bounty. Plastic eggs rain down around them, exploding on contact, spreading chocolate shrapnel within a foot of where they land. One hits Sebastian on the top of his head.

“Ow! God!” he wails, rubbing an already forming bump with his fingers. He doesn’t know what the heck was inside that thing, but his head begins to throb.

No way is he going to stay there if something made of solid gold is headed his way.

“Run!” Sebastian says, pulling his husband to his feet and getting pelted by another plastic egg in the process. He sees this one where it lands, spraying jelly beans left and right, and he starts laughing.

“Sebastian!” Kurt cries. Hepburn barks once in warning and yanks Thomas the shortest distance across the field. Kurt covers the boy’s head with his jacket and bolts, leaving Sebastian behind in a mad dash for their car. “Sebastian! For God’s sake! Hurry up!”

Sebastian runs to catch up, but three steps in, a featureless gold blur hits the ground hard, and his foot gets caught in the hole it makes. He falls to his knees, laughing hysterically at the absurdity of it all. Spoiled little rich kid with daddy issues. That’s what Kurt had called him once back in high school – back when they hated one another. Little did Kurt know how close to the mark that comment hit, or how deeply the already scarred over wounds went. But the reason Kurt didn’t know, not for a long time, is because Sebastian had worked so hard to hide them, run away from them. He was going to grow up better than his upbringing. He was going to become a successful person, a successful parent, whether his own parents were proud of him or not. But all the things they did to break him down - Sebastian didn’t find a way to get rid of them. He simply carried them with him. And here he was – a husband and a father, scared of an Easter egg hunt! Granted, he was in very real danger of ending up with a concussion, but fuck the rest!

Isabelle was right! It’s a beautiful day! And regardless of the greedy horde about to trample him into the dirt, he was going to have the best day ever because he’s surrounded by people he loves!

People who will mourn him when he’s gone.

“Raise our son well, Kurt!” he chokes out over the howl of the raging onslaught. “And remember, I always loved you! Well, ninety-three percent of the time!”

Kurt turns to see his husband, red-faced with laughter, swallowed by the crowd, and despite being concerned for his safety, he can’t help laughing, too. He knows that in a few minutes the crowd will pass, and Sebastian will emerge the way he always does – cocky as hell, obnoxiously triumphant, and probably with a dozen of those golden eggs Isabelle was fiending over. “You’re a good man, Sebastian Smythe! You shall be missed!”

#kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #frankie writes

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closetofanxiety · 6 years ago

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Show Review: Constitution State Wrestling

Last night, I went down to beautiful Groton, Conn. (”The Nuclear Submarine Capital of the World”) with Mark, Mike, and Joel to see a show put on by an indie promotion that was totally new to us. It was, in many ways, a prototypical Local Indie Experience. Let’s count the ways:

National Anthem

This, in many ways, is the earliest and most significant sign that you’re attending a Local Indie as opposed to a National (For Lack of a Better Term) Indie (the national anthem might be played before a Shindie, too, but that’s another subject entirely). Local indies always make everyone stand up for the national anthem, national indies do not. The local indie maintains, at least in vestigial form, a connection to the idea that this is a sporting event, and sporting events begin with the anthem. In this case, the anthem was a pre-recorded instrumental track, but people clapped after it was over anyway.

Public Venue

Unlike a National Indie, which will be in a bar or a rock club or a private fraternal organization’s event hall or a Catholic church with an absurdly Catholic name (New York City national indies only), the Local Indie show will take place in a high school gym or a town hall or a rec center or some other building they can get with a discounted rental fee because of political connections. In this case: Ella T. Grasso Technical High School, a magnificent example of 1970s brutalist school architecture. It was an air-conditioned gym, though, which you wouldn’t expect on the Connecticut shoreline, so kudos to the Constitution State Wrestling folks for that choice.

Advertising and Local Celebs

It’s not a Local Indie without a program, and this show had a program listing the entire card, providing some detail on the two main events (there can be only one main event in reality but whatever) and listing all the local sponsors of the show. As a bonus, there were also signs leading to the venue that just said “Wrestling” with an arrow pointing vaguely in the direction of the school. I cherish these signs of Local Indiedom! There was also a woman from a rock radio station on hand, whose duties were limited to introducing herself and then, later, introducing the women’s match. It’s not a Local Indie without an appearance from a random local celeb: TV meteorologists, disc jockeys, mayors, and others are all perfectly acceptable.

At Least One Wrestler Who’s in the Military

In our case, that was “The Soldier of God” Ronnie Ribbs, which is absolutely one of the best Local Indie names I’ve ever heard in my life. Ronnie Ribbs! “Soldier of God” is a little weird, though. Kind of a Taliban vibe there. Also, since that’s a lot of verbiage to put on your ring gear, that meant Ronnie Ribbs had the acronym “SOG” on the seat of his red, white, and blue trunks which, if you didn’t know what it stood for, could be a little embarrassing. Anyway, he was introduced as a soldier in the U.S. Army, always good for a patriotism pop at a Local Indie. Groton, though, is a Navy town, and when Ribbs was rolled up by opponent “Sensational” Scott Levesque with help from cheating heel manager “High Class” Rich Bass, a guy behind me said, “Just one more reason the Army sucks at everything.”

Event Name That is Not a Cool Pop Culture Reference

Constitution State actually fell down on the job here, as this event did not appear to have a name at all. But a key distinction between a Local Indie and a National Indie is that the latter will usually go with some impenetrable hip pop culture reference (or, worse, just use numbers for each show, like they’re the UFC), whereas local indies are still committed to calling things, like, “Final Showdown” and “Summer Smash Up” and “Brattleboro Brawl” (Brattleboro local indies only) and, of course, “SEASON’S BEATINGS.”

Random Ex-WWE/F Guy

In this case, that role was filled by Gangrel, who really should be getting some of the indie wrestling nerd attention being lavished on PCO. Gangrel is a blast to see live; he gets insanely into it, and takes bumps that are ridiculously bad ideas for a man of his age. He was in the main event here, and the crowd was pretty exhausted by the time it started, but he got them right back into what was really kind of a straightforward brawl with southern New England bad guy Trigga the OG, accompanied, of course, by evil schemer “High Class” Rich Bass, who I’ve never seen before. The crowd was NUTS for Gangrel. When he won, the pop was huge, although it was slightly disappointing that only Joel chanted “Fang and bang! Fang and bang!” Gangrel loved that though. He pointed to Joel and did the throat-cross-into-the-hook-’em-horns thing.

Local Wrestling Academy Students’ Match

Often, this is a battle royal, but thank God that was not the case here. Instead, we saw Matt Taven trainees Joey Bones and Todd Harris, the latter working a “rich prick from Newport” gimmick. Both guys were decent, show real promise, and, notably, had really good gear. Invest in yourselves, aspiring wrestlers! You’ll stand out from the pack.

A Comedy Match That Isn’t Funny

I like comedy wrestling. I know lots of people don’t, but that’s why they make different kinds of ice cream. However, there’s a Chuck Taylor/Orange Cassidy comedy match, and then there’s a Local Indie comedy match, which is basically like a Three Stooges short mixed with some inexplicable Attitude Era flourishes. In this case, it was the awesomely-named Necromancer (short, stout guy with Papa Shango face paint and no apparent ability to speak to the dead) vs. 2Buff w/ The Buffdad, a legitimate father and son duo whose gimmick is that they are not, in fact, buff, but that they constantly do that thing where they put their hands behind their heads and swivel their hips, kind of like a Chippendale dancer would do on an episode of “Designing Women.” Laughs were notably absent, at least from the four of us. Mercifully, this match was broken up by James Ellsworth, who was booked as a random ex-WWE guy but is now, once again, an actual WWE guy. What must he have thought, staring out at the 250 or so people in a high school gym, knowing that in three nights he’ll be facing Asuka on live national television in front of maybe 12,000 people. Anyway, Ellsworth issued an open challenge, and another classic Local Indie thing happened: some loud music hit, and a guy walked out to answer the challenge, but instead of the “Oh shit you gonna get it NOW” reaction from the crowd, there was puzzlement, as no one knew who the challenger was. It didn’t help that he looked like just A Dude in red basketball shorts and a white t-shirt. Later we would learn that he is Wildman Kongo and he would go on to have a bad match with James Ellsworth in front of a tired crowd.

Excitable Fans

Hot crowd, especially before the intermission! At the start of the lone tag team bout, which pitted Brutal Bob Evans and “Tough Tim” against two guys called Riot City’s Most Wanted who looked like indie wrestlers circa 2003, one young fan became so enraged at the heels that he jumped the rail, the first time I think I’ve ever seen that at a show. He was about 11, though, and his friends quickly pulled him back over, so we were spared the sight of Brutal Bob having to PROTECT THE BUSINESS by breaking a child’s jaw. Local indie fixture the Fogman was also there. He’s not really excitable, necessarily, but he’s a fan. We talked to him during intermission and, I mean, he’s an OK guy. He’s his own biggest fan, but what’s so bad about a little self-confidence?

A “Ladies’ Match”

Never a women’s match or just “a match,” on a Local Indie it’s always a LADEEEEES MATCH, the segregation compounded here by having the radio station woman do the only thing she did all night by announcing the competitors, Isana and Jawsolyn. The regular ring announcer was a rockabilly guy, complete with Rev. Horton Heat necktie and suede shoes. He was fine. Isana is a big lass but mobile and specializes in suplays, while Jawsolyn’s gimmick is that she is a shark. That should have gone over better in a coastal town, but people were mostly politely indifferent to this match which, in fairness, was slow and clunky.

One National Indie-Caliber Match

Increasingly, the people who promote and book Local Indies are fans of national indie wrestling, or Japanese wrestling, or British wrestling, or what have you. In this, their tastes diverge from those of their fanbase, which mostly consists of normal, blue collar Americans who just want a fun night out instead of weirdos arguing about BOLA lineups on Reddit all night or people who will slash your tires if you so much as say a disparaging word against Kenneth Omega. To try to satisfy their own creative longings, the promoters and bookers usually put one match on the card that could be on the card of a PWG show or Beyond show or AAW show or whatever. This is normally received by the Local Indie crowd with the same quiet endurance 205 Live is received by WWE crowds, but tonight was an exception. Matt Cross and JT Dunn, meeting for only the second time ever, had a tear-down-the-house 20-minute match that had the good blue collar people of America’s Nuclear Submarine Heartland going absolutely nuts and bananas. This was, indeed, a great match, one of the best I’ve seen all year: neither guy worked heel, but both of them wrestled as though they were actually trying to win an athletic competition, which is rarer than it should be in pro wrestling. Dunn dominated the first half of the match by keeping Cross on the ground and softening him up with wear-down holds to try and create openings for hard strikes. In the second half, Cross was finally able to take to the air, and made his spectacular offense seem credible and devastating. There were, by my count, three “This is awesome” chants, a “Both these guys” chant, and a “Fight forever” chant. People LOVED this match. YOU SEE, VINCE? PEOPLE ACTUALLY LIKE WRESTLING WHEN ok I’m not going to start with that. But it was nice to see a normal American wrestling crowd go nuts for a match that would not be out of place in Reseda or wherever the hell PWG shows are now.

#show reviews #indie wrestling #indy wrestling #Constitution State Wrestling

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highschoolharrier · 6 years ago

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Justin Wrigley is the coach of St. Thomas Aquinas High School in Kansas who currently is riding an impressive state championship win streak and looks to be in contention for a bid to NXN via the Heartland region.

High School Harrier: Your teams are entering the year with recent state championship winning streaks there in Kansas. Can you say a little about how your team has attained that level of excellence?

Justin Wrigley: Our boys team has won four straight state titles and the girls finished third last year which ended a streak of five straight state titles. I definitely believe that the biggest factor for our success is the team culture. There are no magic workouts and there is no magic mileage that guarantees success. Every program is somewhat different in those areas but what has been working the best for us is the team culture. We have had an incredible level of buy-in from the kids over the years and that has helped us achieve many of our goals. We've been blessed with large numbers of kids that are fun, positive and hard working. Because of that, Saints cross country has become a really great place to be. The cross country kids really like being around each other and even though all of the training is a great commitment of time and effort, I think that they just really like doing it together and so we are seeing the benefit of that when we race. It's really awesome that there are so many kids with the same attitude about the sport and the training process. The key is keeping it fun and positive because negativity can tear the whole thing down really fast. We are just like every other high school in the country, we have to always be on the lookout for negativity and try to change those types of behaviors before it does damage to our culture. It is a never-ending process but it's the true key to success in cross country.

HSH: State is 2 weeks before the NXR Heartland meet. Do you think this is too far away, not far enough away or a good amount of time between the two?

JW: I think two weeks is just about perfect! I think that period of time allows kids to celebrate state and also sharpen back up physically and emotionally for NXR. When we first started making the trip to NXR, I don't think that anyone on our team managed the post-state emotions really well. We'd get too up for state and had nothing left in the emotional tank up at NXR despite being physically ready. When we started taking larger groups up to NXR and changed some of the ways we thought about the postseason, we saw our teams improve dramatically at the Heartland meet. Putting NXR on the calendar and planning to attend well before the season even starts has really helped the way our kids prepare emotionally and psychologically and that has really helped. I also think it's really important to get your sub varsity kids to the NXR open races. Those open races are more competitive than almost any state meet and so you're giving sub varsity kids a championship caliber meet to shoot for while also extending their training season by several weeks and getting them experience for when they become your varsity in the NXR championship race. I can't see any negative side to getting as many kids as possible to the NXR meet.

HSH: Do your boys and girls train together?

JW: Yes, we usually have 80-100 kids on our team in any given year and we do everything together. We split up into training groups for workouts but we'll often have girls and boys training together if they are similar in fitness and ability. Our top girl, Olivia Sovereign, trains with the boys. She has a little brother on the team and they push each other really hard in workouts. It is pretty awesome.

HSH: How does your team set their goals each year?

JW: We start each summer with goal meetings. We vote for the captains for the next season at the end of the current season and oftentimes the first official duty of the new captains is to schedule and organize our goal meetings in early June. We have separate meetings for the boys and girls teams even though we do most stuff together. At that meeting we sit around for about an hour and try to have an open conversation about the types of things we want to accomplish. We have a follow up meeting with our kids at our team camp in mid-July. Recently, we've made our goals more about team culture rather than race outcomes and I feel like that is taking the program in a really cool direction. This season we're trying to make our season focus on being selfless in everything we do.

HSH: Is there anyone on your team that you feel is ready to have a breakout year?

JW: I sure hope so, hahaha! We have had the type of summer that makes a coach really excited about the upcoming season. We have seen a lot of kids running very consistently and so I'm feeling pretty confident that some guys and girls will be stepping up and making a big impact this fall. I'd love to name some names but I'd probably end up upsetting anyone I did not mention so I better just keep quiet and we will have to wait and see who goes out there and proves themselves this fall!

HSH: What regular season meet are you most looking forward to and why?

JW: The Rim Rock Classic is always one of the highlights of our season. It's a huge meet on the state meet course and in addition to most of the Kansas teams attending, we will also get to see many of the teams from around the heartland and midwest regions. We also get some teams from Colorado and Texas most years. Unfortunately, Kansas has a rule that nobody from outside of 500 miles of our border can attend our events but maybe someday that will change. In the meantime, this meet is the biggest draw in Kansas every year and I love to get varsity, jv and c-team kids experience on our state meet course so when their time comes, they know the course very well. This year we will also be traveling up to Roy Griak in Minnesota. Usually that meet falls on Rim Rock weekend and we don't go because we don't want to pass up the chance to race on our state meet course but this year the schedule lined up a little different so we'll be going there to get a little preview of the Heartland region. There are so many good teams at Griak and it will be a great mid-season check up on how we're progressing towards our postseason goals. My buddy, Jason Druten of West Torrance, California is bringing his boys to Griak so it will be really fun to hang out with him and go toe to toe with his guys. They were the CIF D3 champs last year and we have a strong bond with their team.

HSH: For us who are not from Kansas, what is the qualifying process for state?

JW: The Kansas qualifying process is about as simple as it gets. For each classification (we have 6 of them in KS) there are four regional meets, geographically separated and the top three teams from each region qualify for state. Classes 3A, 5A and 6A compete at Rim Rock Farm, one of the nation's most beautiful courses and classes 1A, 2A and 4A compete at the Wamego golf course. Both courses have their share of challenging hills at critical points of the race. Don't let anyone tell you that Kansas doesn't have any hills!

HSH: Do you have a motto or mantra for your program?

JW: We have two and we use them all of the time! Our cultural motto is, "Take care of each other" and our training and racing motto is, "B.A.U.," which simply means, "business as usual." Both mottos are pretty simple but they both accomplish a great amount of good when people actually live the mottos. Culturally, we want cross country to be something that everyone enjoys and feels good about. Running is hard and so is high school. Every day is not going to be your best day. We want people to be there for each other and help them get through the tough times. In doing so, we will all make each other better and then we'll have people with us to also celebrate the good times. When we speak about B.A.U., we're talking about doing things the right way, every day. We want our process to become a habit. If we can accomplish that, then when we get to the postseason we can take a lot of the pressure off by reminding the kids that all they have to do is simply keep doing things the way they always have. There is no pressure to do anything special in the postseason and because of that we tend to run really well because our kids are not pressing to do anything more than usual. Both mottos are lifestyle goals and I think they are very helpful in how we approach things.

HSH: What component of your program do you think is the biggest factor in the success of your team?

JW: Every coach probably says this but I believe that the biggest factor in our success has to be team culture. Getting the athletes to buy in to what we are trying to accomplish and how we need to go about our business is so important. On top of that, the even bigger factor is easily how much the kids grow to care about each other through the process. When we get a lot of kids sharing in the experience and working together, they develop this unbreakable bond that just seems to work wonders when they get to the toughest part of their races. They want so badly to contribute to the shared success that they'll do anything for each other. Although only 7 boys and 7 girls get to race at the state meet, we take the entire team to the meet (usually 80-100 kids). We bus them out to Rim Rock and they cover the course in blue and gold and give us an enormous advantage. Matt Hallauer, one of our assistant coaches, organizes that group to be the best state meet support crew around. He has laminated maps for every kid and details on the best places to cheer and how to navigate the farm so you can get to as many places as possible. We have people cheering for our kids on every step of the course and right now no one else in Kansas can match that. When we finish the state meet, we share that moment with every single kid on our team. Everyone that has worn the blue and gold in competition that year can proudly say that they helped contribute to our success. We wait until the awards ceremony is over and then we put our entire team on the podium. Kids that can't yet break 25 minutes get to stand on the podium and hold the state trophy. That's pretty powerful and I think that kind of experience for a high school cross country runner is priceless.

HSH: What was your biggest learning moment as a coach, pertaining to how you coach or the way you train your athletes?

JW: I can actually pinpoint this moment to the winter of 2011. I had been the head cross country coach for five years and finally decided to do an exact study of how much we were running in the off season. At the time we had not started logging our training yet so after investigating, it turned out that even our most dedicated athletes were only running about 55% of the days in the winter. This came as a big shock to me as I assumed the number would be much higher. So we started logging our training and pushing for greater accountability and consistency. The biggest change we had to make was getting kids to run over the weekends and switch to taking days off only when needed rather than automatically putting them on the calendar every week for no reason at all. This increase in consistency had a huge payoff for us. Starting in 2012, we won five girls team titles and four boys team titles with five girls and three boys individual champions. That winter was an epiphany that has changed our program in a major way. Consistency is the key!

HSH: What steps do you take to ensure your top athletes progress each year?

JW: I think being present and available for all of our athletes all year long is probably the most important thing I can do as a coach. Consistency and accountability are critical to progressing as a runner so if I want the kids to train with any level of consistency then I better show up as well. For Saint Thomas Aquinas, that means having a regular off season training program for both the summer and the winter, showing up on weekends and coaching track & field in the spring. On top of that, logging our training and keeping an eye on the training logs to make sure each kid is progressing at the proper rate is also important. And finally, just planning sound training progressions for each kid based on age and experience so you can gradually push them more as they get more experience.

HSH: How much volume does your team get during the summer?

JW: We build up very gradually, perhaps too gradually compared to some but by the end of the summer we like to have our upperclassmen in the 50-70 miles per week range. Sophomores could be anywhere from 30-60 depending on the kid and freshmen are all over the place but the really dedicated ones might be in the 30-45 range. All of this, of course, depends greatly on training age and experience of the individuals. Like I said, we're just like every other team so we're also going to have our share of kids that show up on day one that have not run a step all summer. Managing all these kids is important and you can't just expect any single kid to fit to a broad training scheme.

HSH: What do you feel helps your program buy into the team concept so effectively?

JW: That is a great question. Sometimes I wonder why all of these kids are doing this because it is hard. Cross country is simple, but it is hard. Anyone that thinks cross country is easy is doing it wrong. My very best guess at what helps kids buy in is simply other kids. I think that once some kids take that leap of faith with us and then they not only see some success but experience a lot of fun, then they become our best sales-people. They are the ones that go out and convince other kids to do the same. People want to have fun and they want to succeed, those are both basic ideas that appeal to all humans. So if kids see a bunch of kids doing those things, they become intrigued in doing so too, even though it require so much hard work and sacrifice of time and effort.

HSH: I am a freshman joining your cross country program. What will my training and racing look like this fall?

JW: As a freshman, the top focus of our coaching staff would be to ensure that you are having fun and enjoying the sport. We're going to be real cautious with what we throw at you in terms of volume and intensity. The first thing we'll do when the season starts is analyze your summer and plan out the progression of the season based on what you did or did not do in the summer. Freshmen typically race every weekend because we want to gain experience at running 5k and because most kids join a team to participate. The freshmen won't take any bye weeks like the varsity kids.

HSH: What is your favorite workout to have your runners perform and why?

JW: Are you ready for the most boring answer of all time? Because my favorite workout to do with our runners is threshold intervals, or what Jack Daniels calls "cruise intervals." And this is something we do almost weekly all year long with our distance runners. We create variety by adjusting the length of the intervals but we typically do a total of 20-30 minutes of total volume and always at what Daniels defines as threshold pace. I just feel really good about the adaptation that comes from this level of stress on a consistent basis. Of course, a close runner up would be regular tempo and progressive runs. We're working really hard at improving our progressive runs and the kids are really starting to enjoy them more now. We were pretty bad at starting too fast or progressing too much, too soon when we first started doing these runs. Now that the kids have a better handle on the pacing, they really enjoy them and gain a great deal of confidence.

Photo courtesy of Justin Wrigley.

#kansas #crosscountry #sta #stthomas #aquinas

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tkmedia · 3 years ago

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Daily Bread Mailbag: Lomachenko, Charlo-Castano, Stevenson-Herring, More

The Daily Bread Mailbag returns with Stephen "Breadman" Edwards tackling topics such as Vasilliy Lomachenko's big comeback win, the upcoming unification between Jermell Charlo and Brian Castano, the record of Artur Beterbiev, Shakur Stevenson vs. Jamel Herring, and more. I’ve asked you in the past about the best wins in boxing. You’ve gone on record stating you believe that Duran’s win over Leonard is the best win in boxing history. But I wanted to ask a slightly different question: What are some fights you think would’ve surpassed that win if it had gone the other way? I know that might be a very broad question, but I’ve been pondering it for a while. One that I can think of that might have an argument is Pryor-Arguello. If Arguello had beaten Pryor, he would’ve been the first four-division champ ever… am I remembering that correctly? Could that have been one of the best wins if it had gone the other way? I also wonder about Hopkins-Trinidad. I know Trinidad was the favorite for that fight, but what if he’d won that one? What are some other what-if big wins you think of? Greg K. Bread’s Response: If I said Duran W over Leonard was the best in history then I was typing too fast. What I meant was it could possibly be the best win in history. It’s high up there. It's among the best. As is Leonard over Hearns1. Ali over Foreman. Frazier over Ali1 and Armstrong over Ross. Along with Duran over Leonard 1, those are most likely the 5 best wins in boxing history. If Arguello would have defeated Aaron Pryor in 1982 he would have won 4 titles before Leonard in 1988, Duran in 1989 and Hearns in 1987. It would’ve been huge. To defeat and undefeated top 10 P4P fighter the caliber of Pryor in his prime would have been amazing and no doubt a top 10 win in boxing history. If Tito would have defeated Hopkins it would’ve been something. Tito’s “off night” vs Oscar would have dismissed as an off night. Hopkins had been champion since 1995 and considered an excellent fighter. It would’ve also been for 3 belts the WBA, WBC and IBF. I don’t know if it would’ve been bigger than Arguello over Pryor but it would’ve been huge. Because for as great as we view Hopkins now, in 2001 he had not received the respect he has today from the boxing community. Hopkins WIN over Tito is actually bigger than Tito’s hypothetical win over Hopkins. If Pernell Whitaker would have gotten the official decision over Julio Cesar Chavez then it would have simply been the best win of the 90s. It’s a shame Whitaker didn’t get the official verdict. I saw your comment about Sha’Carri Richardson and I can’t help but to think she was set up. Marijuana is legal in the state she smoked in and it shouldn’t be illegal to smoke by Olympic standards. I know you’re a fair dude Bread but we disagree on this. On another topic do fighters get tested for marijuana also? Bread’s Response: First of all yes boxers do get tested for marijuana. In fact there have been fighters who have had wins turned into NC because of positive marijuana results. Let me preface my comments about Ms. Richardson. I would love to see her compete and win. My daughter runs the 100m, 200m and 400m. Richardson is from the USA and I want to see her beat the Jamaicans who have had a strong hold on the sprints. Now what I said is the people are using the WRONG argument to defend her. I would love to see marijuana not be on the BANNED list. But the fact is, it’s on the list and the committee has their reasons why. They believe it slows the reaction time which can be dangerous on the track. They also believe it sets a bad example for younger athletes and it can be used as a MASKING agent for more powerful substances. These aren’t my rules. These are the rules of the testing agency. Ms. Richardson was well aware. The best argument that can be used is that marijuana should not be on the banned substance list. Period. The rule is archaic and it shouldn’t be in existence anymore. The arguments I keep hearing is “keep that same energy yall had with Michael Phelps.” And that Sha’Carri Richardson was SET UP. Those are ridiculous arguments. When you’re wrong. Ask for GRACE. Be accountable and hopefully things work out. First let’s address the Michael Phelps case. Phelps didn’t test positive for marijuana. A photo surfaced of him 6 months AFTER the Olympics smoking a BONG. Phelps was suspended for 3 months and lost sponsorship. He could’ve fought that but he didn’t. There would be no way to prove what was in the BONG despite us knowing and using common sense what it was. Remember it’s not what you know, it’s what you can prove. You can’t compare that to Richardson testing positive a month before the Olympics. It’s just not the same. Remember I want Richardson to win, but we look foolish making WRONG points. At least research before you say ridiculous stuff. When I first read that she tested positive I said to myself maybe she used a topical solution for muscle soreness and instead of having CBD in it, it had THC in it. I was literally making excuses for her because I couldn’t believe the press head lines. To hear her say, she knows what the rules were. She did it because of the stress of her mom dying, there was nothing I or anyone else could say. This wasn’t a MISTAKE, it was poor judgment. When you use the word set up you better be careful. I have seen black athletes put through hard times or be held to a higher standard than other athletes. I have seen injustice. In this case a young lady suffered bad news and she decided to smoke marijuana, despite knowing the rules. In order for her to have been set up the committee would have had to have a hand in her mother dying and/or know that Richardson would smoke to relieve stress. Do you see how ridiculous that sounds? Also illegal and banned have two different meanings. Marijuana is a banned substance. It can be legal in Oregon but it’s banned to use during or around competition. Please stop conflating the meanings. Let’s just hope they remove the ban all together and allow her run. But no it wasn’t a set up. And no this is not the same as the Michael Phelps case. It’s ok to support Sha’Carri Richardson and still hold her accountable. She didn’t use a steroid but unfortunately as of now, marijuana is banned. Hi Bread, Hope you and your family are doing well. My question to you is regarding Loma and his latest fight against Nakatani. During the week leading to the fight, Loma and his team let everybody know that he had an injury in camp, 3 weeks before the Teo fight. Loma's manager said that Papachenko wanted to postpone the fight (which Loma refused), and that Loma's right shoulder popped in the 2nd round after a jab (he only really used his right hand again starting in the 7th round, supposedly when he understood that he would lose otherwise).It was obvious that Loma chose Nakatani to send a message to Teofimo and the world, and God knows that the message has been received !Besides being a "vintage Loma performance", as Tim Bradley said, I have to admit that I've never seen Loma with that big of a chip on his shoulder from the get go (we've seen glimpses of it when he was hit clean/hurt by Linares or Campbell, for example). He started letting his hands go after only half a round of assessing his opponent. It was obvious that his objectives in this fight was to show that he could takeover early (proof that he's learnt from his loss), and to hurt and stop Nakatani. What is your analysis of this fight ? And what do you think are the keys to victory for each fighter in the Loma/Lopez rematch? Thanks and greetings from North Africa. Bread’s Response: I thought Loma looked excellent. But reoccurring injuries are part of the game. This is not the first time Loma has been hurt. I honestly felt he dug so deep in the Linares fight, he hasn’t quite reached that form again since that night. This last performance was very close but Nakatani is too slow and gangly to deal with Loma, so this may be a case of the perfect style coupled with a motivated fighter coming off of a loss. I think Lopez needs to do what he did in the their first fight. Put rounds in the bank and keep the fight at long range for as long as he can. It’s not just height and reach. Lopez is not that much taller and longer than Loma. But he has a more commanding presence from Long range and he has to build points before Loma gets in his groove. This match up could be a case of Jermaine Taylor vs Bernard Hopkins. Where as for some reason it took Hopkins time to break the range vs Taylor. Hopkins is clearly a better fighter than Taylor but Taylor who was excellent just gave him fits. We don’t know how good Lopez will be yet….but that comparison comes to mind. Loma can say what he wants but Teofimo’s sharpness and power bothered him. It takes his body and mind time to warm up to Teofimo. He shoulder probably was hurt. I don’t doubt that. But I also know what I saw. Teofimo came out sharp, mean and forceful. Loma needed time to adjust to that. He didn’t want to get clipped. In this rematch he simply has to find a safe way to break the range earlier and get in his rhythm. It’s not as easy as everyone says of “just start earlier”. Well Teofimo has something to say about that. I think Loma has to work on his quickness in camp and find a way to get his jab working a little bit more. A jab finds rhythms and breaks rhythms. Emile Griffith, not Griffin. Valdes was very underrated. He lost a few early because he had mono and went back to Colombia to get better. I feared him more than I feared Monzon even though Monzon was the better fighter. Valdes often fought to the level of his competition. Bennie matched up well with taller guys because of his jab, which was almost like a straight left and tall guys were not ready for it and had trouble getting accustomed to it. Valdes should have been in Canastota by now. There are guys in there who don't have his credentials but many of today's voters are imbeciles. Bread’s response: Thank you for the correction. The editor’s should have caught my mistake, lol. I love it when my old school readers write in to put me in my place and give me wisdom. I receive it with open arms. Let’s show some love for Rodrigo Valdes who is a top 2 or 3 middleweight of the 70s. I’ve watched a few of his fights and he could go! For some reason he had Brsicoe’s number the Philadelphia legend would have been champion if he could have figured out Valdes. Valdes beat Briscoe 3x and stopped him once. 2x with the title on the line. Hey Bread, Love your work mate and your knowledge and insight on the mailbag each week just a couple of questions firstly on Canelo, although I admire the guy as he is a tremendous fighter, it puzzles me why he has gone on record in several interviews stating he will not face other Mexican fighters in the ring again he obviously has the star power and right to choose to face who ever he wants but I cant work out why? Do you have any ideas? If an American or British fighter said they wouldn't fight one of their own countrymen anymore they would be laughed at. Is it a case of him not wanting to spill Mexican blood on the canvas or some sort of patriotic thing I don't know I think fights with the likes of Gilberto Ramirez or Munguia would be absolutely huge especially on the Mexican holiday weekends! Also everyone seems to think he's going to walk right thru plant if and when the fight gets made but I have my doubts I think this will be one or if not the toughest fight of his career to steal a quote of the first rocky movie This man is dangerous and I think the last piece of the puzzle for Canelo at super mw will be the most risky fight for him. Kind regards! B from Western Sydney Australia Bread’s Response: I never heard Canelo say that he wouldn’t fight a Mexican fighter. I know he’s fought a few in his career, Chavez Jr., Angulo etc. So I would have to read the context in how he said that. Munguia and Ramirez are nice opponents for him but the bigger opponents are Charlo, Andrade, Beterbiev and Plant. Then there is also David Benavidez who is Mexican American and wants the fight. If Benavidez beats one of the fighters I mentioned and earns a shot at Canelo, Canelo won’t be able to use that excuse. Let’s see what happens. I never read or heard Canelo say that. I also believe that Caleb Plant will be a tough opponent for Canelo. Plant is better than Saunders. He’s taller, longer, faster and I believe he’s mentally tougher. I also see that he’s a more dedicated athlete. When you have extreme dedication you are willing to go through more to get the glory because you know you haven't cheated the grind. A fighter who gives his all at all times. A fighter who restricts his diet. A fighter who does all of the little things, will fight through those moments of crisis harder. I believe Plant is one of those fighters. Obviously Plant will have to be better than he was vs Uzgategui and Truax. But I think he will be. Obviously he’s going to have to be stronger and not be bullied to the ropes. But I think he will be. Obviously Canelo has a serious heavybag routine where he punches THROUGH the target and Plant has to be aware of this. But I think he will be. I believe if Plant fights an ON THE MOVE fight. Oscar Valdez just fought one vs Berchelt but Plant has to be less violent than Valdez. Mayweather fought one vs Diego Corrales. Sambu Kalambay fought one vs Mike McCallum in their first fight. Muhammad Ali fought the best one in history vs Cleveland Williams. If Plant can punch on the move he will frustrate Canelo. He’s going to score points. And most importantly, he will force Canelo to burn loads of energy by having to use his OWN legs to track him down. Canelo fights an energy efficient fight these days. His pressure is not like Joe Frazier’s or Henry Armstrong’s. It’s been said that Canelo’s stamina has improved. Well if Plant fights this type of fight, then that theory will be put to the test. This fight will come down to what style Plant decides to fight. There are fights I can see. There are fights I have to wait and see and assess later. Plant’s best chance to win is Stick and Move and not try to hit Canelo with anything big. The harder you try to punch Canelo the easier it is for him to counter. Plant has to throw fast stick punches. Sort of like how Calzaghe punches but obviously in his own form and body type. Jab Canelo's gloves, jab to distract him. Feint him. Move him around. Stay off the ropes. When Canelo presses him if he can’t hold the center, move until Canelo stops pressuring then go back to the center. Forget about the crowd. Just win baby. If he fights that fight. People will be pissed but the WIN for this fight is HUGE. I give you props for telling your truth about the fallout with Jrock. I still think you guys are better together and not apart. The young brother may be lost and it’s going to take some pride swallowing to resurrect the relationship. My question is assuming you aren’t training him, do you think he has a shot at the Charlo vs Castano winner? I’ve always been a big fan of his. I’ve watched several of his fights and that wasn’t him in the ring against Rosario. Bread’s Response: Yes I do think Jrock has a shot at the winner. It basically comes down to a few things. How engaged he is with his new trainer. Traveling to train is a load mentally and physically. If he can find someone to run a productive camp and figure out his body he has a shot. People always say he’s too small for 154lbs which is ridiculous. He’s big for the weight. He may not be the BIGGEST but he’s big for the weight. He has big quads, broad shoulders and a wide back. He’s 5’10.5” with very long arms of over 73 inches. He walks around heavy just like the rest of the guys in the division and he has to cut 25lbs-30lbs just like everyone else. If he finds someone to learn his body and know when to peak him out right, he’s right with those guys. The key is learning his body. He has very low body fat and he hasn’t made 154lbs in a year and a half. He may not even be a junior middleweight anymore. Stylistically he matches up well with both guys. At his best he’s turned in a better performance than both ever have. So his high is higher than their highs have been. The issue is, is his low. He’s also turned in a lower performance than they ever have. The key will be his confidence and a trainer who is open to learning his body. It won’t be easy but far from impossible. Jrock would have been the favorite to beat both if the fights were made after he defeated Hurd. I was going to bet Jermell Charlo but then you brought up how good Brian Castano was an amateur. You were right. He did beat Spence and Devrenchenko. My question is how much do you think amateur success translates to pro success? Bread’s Response: I would say 75% of the time it has a bearing. Usually the best amateurs are the best pros. Over the last 10 years it hasn’t been the case as much but it still relevant. Let’s look back. People consider Sugar Ray Robinson the best fighter ever. The Olympics weren’t as big in boxing in the 1940s. But Robinson was either 85-2 or 85-0 as an amateur. Floyd Patterson was a great amateur. Our best in 1952. And he was one of our best fighters of the 50s. Muhammad Ali was our best amateur in 1960. Well it’s no need to get into what he was as a pro. Joe Frazier was our best amateur in 1964. We also know what he was as a pro. George Foreman was our best amateur in 1968. Again HOF as a pro. In 3 straight Olympics the Gold Medalist and the US’s best fighter turned out to be a HOF. In 1976 we produced 5 Gold Medalist. 3 won titles. 2 became ATG in Michael Spinks and Ray Leonard. In 1980 Donald Curry was best amateur. He went on to be a HOF. In 1984 Evander Holyfield, Frank Tate, Pernell Whitaker, Meldrick Taylor, Mark Breland and Virgil Hill were medalist and turned out to be champions and or HOF as pros. In 1988 Roy Jones, Riddick Bowe, Michael Carbajal and Ray Mercer all medalist all turned out to be champions. Carbajal, Jones and Bowe HOF. In 1992 Oscar de La Hoya was our best amateur. HOF as a pro. In 1996 Floyd Mayweather, Antonio Tarver, David Reid all won medals. All win titles as pros. 2004 we had one Gold Medalist. Andre Ward. HOF as a pro. 2008 Gary Russell, Demetrius Andrade and Deontay Wilder were the best fighters on the Olympic team. They still remain towards the top of their games today. In almost 100 fights as pros they have 2 losses. In 2012 Errol Spence was the best fighter on that team. He’s still the best from the team. In 2016 Shakur Stevenson, Gary Russell and Charles Conwell were the standouts. None of them have taken a loss yet. Stevenson the only medalist is the best so far as a pro. Historically domestically and internationally the very best amateurs have about 75% of the time been our best pros. You do have cases like Terence Crawford who was around the 2008 team. He’s our best fighter overall from that time. Read the full article

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