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#The Tumblr text editor was NOT having that much formatting

spine-buster · 8 months

Text

portofino ft. kenny omega

gif credit @/stukky

Length: 23k Summary: You and Tyson have history. Lots of it. When you met, you could have never envisioned he would be in your life the way he still is. But things get complicated, and tricky, and complex. Things hurt – lots of things hurt. And things can only get worse before they can get better, right? A/N: my first wrestling fic since 2017. The formatting and spacing on this is super fucked up and not idea and I apologize for that, but Tumblr's new and "improved" text editor is literally the fucking worst and glitches SO much that the most I could do was this. This will also be posted on my AO3 (@/spinebuster) if you prefer there!

10th May 2023

it only hurts this much right now was what i was thinking the whole time

You were crying again.

At this point, you were basically just leaking.

You didn’t want Tyson to find out, so you tried with all your might to stop yourself, rubbing away your tears with the back of your hand and trying to steady your breathing. You breathed in and out, in and out, in and out. You hoped no-one else around noticed. But it was hard when there were so many people, hard when you were friends with practically all of them, hard when any little hint of water or redness of your eye could cause someone like Austin or Hikaru or Dustin to speak up and ask you what was wrong. You almost wanted to hide in a closet until you calmed down, but that was childish.

You went into one of the washrooms backstage anyway, not bothering to go into a stall but checking them all quickly anyway to ensure nobody else was with you. When you knew you were clear, you stood in front of the sink, looking at yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks were red, your eyes were watery. You sighed.

“Get it together, Hazel,” you mumbled to yourself. You so desperately needed to get it the fuck together. “Stop crying. You’re such a baby.”

The pep talk didn’t help much.

***

“Have you seen Hazel anywhere?” Tyson asked Nick as he unraveled the tape around his wrists.

“Nah,” he answered, shaking his head. “Probably went back to the hotel a bit early.”

“Why would she do that?” Tyson asked. Matt, from behind his brother, gave one of his best friends a look. “Oh. Right,” Tyson realized.

“Don’t think she wants to hang out here anymore than she needs to,” Nick commented.

“Can you blame her?” Matt asked his brother.

“Not in the slightest.”

***

You had the TV on for background noise as you went about your routines and wandered aimlessly around the hotel room. It was pitch black outside in Detroit; you couldn’t even see anything out the window besides the lights from the hotel parking lot. What a view. You tried to distract yourself with the TV, sitting down on the suite’s couch, but you couldn’t even do that. Your legs pushed you back up to wander more. You’d check your phone and texted your mom back. You texted Hikaru that maybe brunch would be a better idea tomorrow instead of meeting her in the lobby for the continental breakfast, knowing what tomorrow morning would probably look like.

At some point, you heard some noise and voices from outside your room. Not long after, the sounds of a key card swiping, and finally the turn of the doorknob. You were greeted with Tyson – or, more so, Tyson was greeted with you, since you were the one in his room. It wasn’t a surprise that you were there, but it was still a welcome sight. It was better than being alone.

“Hey,” you greeted him. It had been about an hour since you stopped crying, so you hoped your eyes and face had stopped showing it.

“Hazel, hey,” he said, smiling at you, despite what he had just been through. He wheeled his bag in behind him before the door shut on its own. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you lied. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll live,” he shrugged. He’d been saying that a lot lately. You hated when he did. “You left early.”

You nodded quickly, apologetically. “I didn’t want to stick around. Knowing that he’s lurking around, you know…I just didn’t want to have to deal with it.”

“I didn’t even see him, for what it’s worth. If you stayed in our locker room you would’ve been good.”

The two of you didn’t even have to say his name for you to understand. In some ways, you were glad he acted as a buffer, an excuse you could pull, that way you could hide why you really left early. “I watched most of the match, I swear. Until I couldn’t anymore.”

“When was that?”

“When you guys broke the cage,” you were finally honest, just slightly.

“So you didn’t see Don stab me with a screwdriver.”

You winced. “No. But you at least told me about that. You didn’t tell me the cage was going to break.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice solemn. “You know how these matches get put together. Things get added. Things get taken out.”

Did you ever. But you still couldn’t get used to how…well, violent Tyson’s matches were getting. Unnecessary violence. Unnecessary risk. There was no reason for Tyson to bleed, and now you felt he was bleeding every week. You didn’t know how much longer you’d last. “How’s your knee?” you asked, since you saw it get caught up in the cage when it broke, causing you to cry in the first place. He’d just taken time off for double knee surgery; you were scared he was taking it too far.

“Knees are fine. As good as they can be,” he assured you. “Can you…can you help me with something else, though?”

“Of course. What is it?”

“There’s, umm, there’s some scratches on my back. I need someone to take off the big bandage, apply this cream the doctor gave me, and tape on a new bandage.”

“Okay,” you nodded slightly. You’d done a version of this countless times before but it never got easier. Just like watching him do these kinds of matches never got easier. “Do you want to sit on the bed?”

He changed out of his gym shorts and into his pyjama shorts first so he could sleep right afterwards. You watched as he sat on the bed, handing you the ointment. When you unravelled the bandage, your stomach was in knots about how big it was. “Ty…”

“It’s going to look worse than it feels,” he warned. “It doesn’t feel that bad, Hazel. I promise.” He took off his shirt then, slowly, grunting slightly. The bandage covered nearly half his back. You held your breath, trying to keep your emotions in check. “The tape that’s holding the bandage in place – it doesn’t hurt. You can just peel it off,” he instructed. “I have more for when you put the new one on.”

You started peeling away the tape, discarding it beside you as you. When it was fully peeled, the bandage still stayed in place, which only meant to you it was sticking onto his skin because of the blood. You held your breath again as you took the bandage off, but fully gasped loudly in horror, your breath taken away when you saw the state of his back. “Oh Ty…” you cried.

“Hazel—”

“Tyson, what did you do? What did you do?” you begged from him. You brought your hand up, tracing the scratches and cuts delicately with your fingertips. “Tyson…” he had to hear the pain in your voice.

“I’m sorry, Hazel. I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

And that’s when it began again: the tears. You grabbed the ointment and unscrewed the cap, taking in the full picture of his back. You cried silently, tears falling down your face as you would apply small bits of ointment to your fingers before rubbing it along all the scratches. You would do this for Tyson until the day you died, but you hated that it had to be like this. The two of you had always looked out for one another – Tyson more so, for obvious reasons, but that was a whole other story – but seeing his body mutilated like this twisted something in you that you couldn’t kick. It was one thing to see Kenny after a 60-minute match with Okada, body bruised and banged up but all in one piece; it was another thing to see barbed wire and nail scratches, cuts, and footprints on his face.

He winced in pain every so often and you’d keel, hating yourself for hurting him when you were supposed to be helping him. You tried not to let him hear you cry, but you were sure the couple of sniffles gave it away. When you finally asked for the tape for the bandage and your voice cracked, you were positive.

Tyson handed you the tape, but turned around slightly to see you. “You’re crying. Why are you crying?” he asked.

You shook your head to ignore him. You unravelled the tape and began ripping strips to use. “Turn around.”

“Hazel—”

“Sit still.”

Tyson stayed silent. You positioned the bandage to cover all the scratches before taping it into place. When you were done, you tossed the tape to the side, the rest of his back looking fairly normal besides the scars you already knew about. Unable to control yourself, you leaned forward and pressed your cheek to his skin on his back between his shoulder blades, inhaling and exhaling deeply. Tyson felt what you were doing, the skin-to-skin contact an instantaneous feeling, and breathed in and out along with you. You savoured the feeling of the Tyson you knew on your skin. Not mutilated Tyson. Not banged up Tyson. Just the Tyson you knew for twelve years, the Tyson who looked out for you, the Tyson who was your mentor.

“I’m sorry, Hazel,” he whispered, his words sincere. He hated seeing, feeling you so upset.

“Can I stick around tonight?” you asked.

“You never have to ask. You just can.”

When you crawled to step off the bed, Tyson grabbed your arm to prevent you from going anywhere momentarily. You wanted to get the feeling of tears off your face, but he had other plans. You were right at his side, so so close. “I really am sorry,” he told you. “I hate seeing you like this.”

Tears were coming again. You didn’t try to stop them this time. You still shook your head and tried to wipe them away. “It’s just getting harder and harder for me to watch you put your body through these hardcore matches,” you admitted. “Sometimes I just wish you’d stick to what you’re good at. And that’s not to say you’re not good at the hardcore stuff, because you are – you’re good at everything. I just wish I didn’t have to see your body be mutilated for the sake of spectacle. I hate—I hate seeing what you have to do. You, more than anyone, know how to put on a spectacle without having to do that shit. I hate seeing you destroy your body, Ty. I just hate it. I’m sorry.”

He nodded his head in understanding. “I know it’s hard. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” was all he could say.

Tyson waited for you to wash your face and put on one of his t-shirts before the both of you got into bed. You wondered if you should get close at all, possibly even touch him, and you were about to decide against him until he winced again, trying to get into a comfortable position. It was at that point that your body physically moved towards his before your mind knew what it was doing. It was like a fight-or-flight response. He found a comfortable position sleeping on his side, and you curled up right against his back like the big spoon, despite being two-thirds his size.

In the quietness of the room, with the low hum of the air conditioner the only noise, you placed a kiss on his shoulder. He didn’t say anything, but you knew he felt it.

***

The next morning, you woke up still snuggled into Tyson. You both had inevitably shifted throughout the night: Tyson was lying on his back, apparently able to do so without pain, while you were sleeping right up against him. When you opened your eyes, you saw that he was still sound asleep, one arm draped over his chest.

“Haze?” you heard him mumble in a groggy voice.

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t fully asleep. “Hmm?”

“Thank you for last night,” he said.

You didn’t answer right away. “I’ll always be there to help you, Tyson. You know that.”

He moved so that the arm that had been squished against you was now around you, pulling you into his body even more than you already were. The usual smell of him filled your airways; it practically made you drunk. Drunk enough to fall back asleep, his body bringing you peace as much as it did pain.

***

11th May 2023

time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it i'd like to be my old self again, but i'm still trying to find it

When you were back in Orlando, you settled into the solace of your apartment, unpacking immediately and throwing your clothes in the washing machine. You were called a psychopath more than once by Stephen for being that type of person – especially after it became a meme on the internet – but you couldn’t help it. You had even packed Tyson’s shirt that you’d slept in last night, seeing it mixed in with your other clothes before you threw in a Tide Pod and closed the door.

After unpacking, you set your suitcase in your closet and resolved to have a bowl of lime tortilla chips as you sat on the couch and scrolled through Instagram and cuddled with your ragdoll cat, Zadie. You needed to disconnect from wrestling for a bit, from flashbacks of seeing Tyson’s scratched-up back whipping through your mind every other minute. But as you sat down on your couch, bowl or tortilla chips in hand, you couldn’t help but notice your most prized belongings: your wrestling accolades you had organized neatly on the wall and in the media unit that surrounded your TV. Your Match of the Year plaques from 2014 and 2015. Your Woman of the Year awards. A women’s belt. Framed photographs of you wrestling. Frame photographs of you with your friends. With your family. With Tyson.

Sometimes it felt like a lifetime ago and sometimes it felt like you had to retire yesterday. You had enjoyed an amazing but short career. You’d had a lot of ups, a lot of downs, a lot of heartbreaks, a lot of memorable moments. There was the time you’d gone 20-minutes with Toni Storm in a match that ended up getting over a million views on YouTube. You’d performed in infamous Reseda, in the PWG arena, to the most raucous crowd you’d ever performed in front of. You had travelled to America, Japan, the UK, Germany, Italy, France, Mexico, and Ireland to wrestle. You had hype. You had respect. People wrote about you. People paid to see you. People lined up for you at meet and greets. People wanted your autograph and your t-shirts at shows, handing you wads of cash for two medium and two kids’ t-shirts so the whole family could match. While you had made a name for yourself, you’d racked up the injuries too. There was the broken wrist early on, which wasn’t that bad – from a show in Toronto where you just landed awkwardly. You were able to finish the match, and thanks to the Canadian health care system you held so dear, it was in a cast just a few hours later. There was a broken ankle that actually forced you to stay back from a tour of Ireland that many of your friends went on.

At one point in 2014, you were booked to wrestle against a women’s wrestler, fairly new to the scene, named Bea Priestley. The both of you had gone over the match beforehand, but once in the ring, she did nothing you two spoke about. That was fine – you were a professional – but Bea was wrestling stiff, and you were getting angrier every passing moment in the ring, even warning her to cool it. When she actually did one of the sequences you’d called beforehand, she ended up breaking your sternum. You had to be out for twelve weeks. You never heard from Bea. It was fine. Whatever.

But the next time Bea Priestley wrestled you, she broke your neck.

You told her you didn’t want to take anything too risky. “Why? You don’t trust me?” she had the audacity to ask you. During the match, when she picked you up and flipped you upside down, you knew what was coming, so you tried to get into a safe position. But none of that mattered. Nothing would have saved you.

You remembered dropping on you head, and you remember seeing a light, and you remember your whole body going limp. It felt like you weight a million pounds; you were completely paralyzed from the neck down. You couldn’t move, and it was the scariest seconds of your life. Rick Knox immediately noticed. You closed your eyes and willed your brain to wiggle your fingers, and after about five or six seconds, you felt them rubbing against each other, even just slightly. You remembered seeing Bea try to kick you, but Rick Knox earnestly holding her back. When he pushed her far enough away, he knelt down by your head. “Haze, what happened?” he asked. You knew your body. You knew what this was. You told Rick not to touch you, that you had broken your neck.

You remember him throwing up one of the most emphatic X’s you’d ever seen and the whole crowd going silent. Rick was screaming something, but you were focused on the worst pain you’d ever felt in your neck as you began feeling again in your extremities. After that, so much was a blur. You remember Austin somehow being beside your face too, telling you everything was going to be okay – you later learned he was watching from the back and ran out the second Rick threw up the X. You remember Dustin being there too, doing much of what Austin was doing, giving Bea dirty looks – you later learned he was the one who called the ambulance. Austin and Dustin were very likely the reasons things weren’t worse, the reason why you were still walking.

At the hospital they ran x-rays and MRIs and other tests, as usual, and they put a neck brace on you. Dustin had followed you to the hospital to explain everything to the emergency doctors, Austin and Kyle and Candice following close behind in a car. When the results finally came back, it was even worse than you – than everybody – thought.

“Your disc hit your spinal cord, which is why you saw the white light,” the doctor explained. “That’s what caused the temporary paralysis.”

“So I broke it, like I thought,” you wanted the confirmation. People had recovered from broken necks before. So many had been able to get back into the ring.

The doctor sighed. “Miss Fiore…” she began. “Your disc hit your spinal cord. You didn’t fracture your neck. You didn’t break it. What you suffered is what we refer to as a spinal cord concussion. You don’t have to sever your spinal cord to be paralyzed for life, you could just touch it and be paralyzed for life. This…what happened to you…is technically worse.”

You remember feeling as if the blood drained from your body. “Paralyzed?”

She sighed again. “Miss Fiore…you have a very, very similar injury to Christopher Reeve. Your C2 is what controls your breathing. The truth is, when it hit your spinal cord, you should have suffocated to death in the ring. Out of the five percent of people that survive this injury, ninety-nine percent are paralyzed. It’s quite literally a miracle that you are still able to walk.”

You had emergency spinal fusion surgery less than 24 hours later. Four screws, a rod, and sixteen staples created a gnarly, awful scar on your neck that was still visible whenever you had your hair up.

Your wrestling career was over.

Your phone buzzed loudly from your coffee table, breaking your train of thought. At least it kept you from crying. When you picked it up, you noticed Tyson’s name flash across the screen.

Want to come up and watch some Netflix or something? We can even keep watching that German duchess show you like. Promise.

He lived in one of the penthouses on the 34th floor, while you lived in a two bedroom on the 18th. How embarrassing was that? Even your living situations were inextricably linked. You swiped your phone open and texted him back quickly.

It’s okay. I need some time alone. Let’s go for coffee tomorrow or something.

It was Dustin who had to make the call to Tyson when you were in the hospital. He was in Japan on a tour, and word hadn’t gotten to him. Dustin told you he had freaked out on the phone, like completely freaked out. After your surgery and after all your visitors had left, your room surrounded by flowers and get well soon cards, you FaceTimed him. He picked up on barely the second ring. It was the first time you’d ever seen him tear up, though you later learned he didn’t completely break down until after he hung up. You tried to cheer him up, telling him the first thing you were going to do when you were cleared was go to Japan to see him. He made you promise not to fly unless a doctor said it was okay. He had two weeks off in about a month’s time and resolved to stay with you for the duration to help you. You told him it wasn’t necessary, but he insisted.

Those two weeks were when you realized Tyson would be in your life forever.

You’d still done well for yourself since then. You ended up starting a variety of projects – a podcast, becoming a semi-influencer on Instagram. But perhaps most successful, and what kept your memory alive in the hearts and minds of wrestling fans worldwide despite not fighting in the ring anymore, was your YouTube series. Kick Out in the Kitchen. A series you started, inspired by the memory of your dad who was a chef, where you invited wrestlers to help you cook increasingly complex dishes. You’d interview them along the way, teach them how to properly cut an onion, and make sure they didn’t slice off a finger in the process. It was hysterical, and it was a hit.

Your life was good. It really was. You had amazing friends, you had your career, you had your mom in Winnipeg, you had an apartment, you had Tyson. But sometimes you ached for the past; sometimes you wanted to still be in the ring, winning championships and changing the wrestling landscape just like your close friends were doing. That just wasn’t in the cards for you, and that’s okay. But it still hurt sometimes.

Your phone buzzed again, the badge rolling down from the top of your screen.

Are you sure? Need to talk?

I’m good. Thanks Ty <3 see you tomorrow.

***

It all began with Portofino.

Well, it all really began with Tyson making a remark about how you always carried a book around in your gym bag. You were in Winnipeg then, training to become a wrestler, and he’d visited the school on a trip home from Japan in 2011. “I promised my mom I’d graduate university before pursuing wrestling full-time,” you had explained to him. “She wants me to have a degree. It’s a non-negotiable.”

The book in question that he saw that day was An Artist of the Floating World by Kazuo Ishiguro. He was intrigued by the Japanese name of the author more than anything, although when you told him the synopsis, he perked up quite considerably.

He was 28 at the time. You were 20.

You were so, so young, but you were the only one that had spoken to him at length about your vision of what pro wrestling is and what pro wrestling could be. You listened to him more intently than anyone else in your class when he spoke of his time in Japan. You’d seen the match he had at his cottage. You saw his match against nine-year-old Haruka and against Yoshihiko the blow-up doll. Some of your fellow trainees looked at you weird. You were the only one who had expressed any interest in travelling somewhere other than the United States for pro wrestling – maybe go to the UK, or do a tour of Europe, or, if you were lucky enough, do a tour of Japan.

By the end of the week, Tyson gave you his number and said if you were ever in Japan to contact him.

You did more than that. You didn’t just wait the two years between meeting him and graduating to speak to him again. You actively kept in touch with him. You became friends as you learned more about each other. So much so that after local shows on weekends, travelling to Toronto, Calgary, Vancouver, and Pasadena in the summers to wrestle, and graduation, when you arrived in Japan for the first time he picked you up from the airport.

He looked out for you. He always did.

He always would.

***

PORTOFINO, 2014

i'd live and die for moments that we stole on begged and borrowed time

You found yourself squished in the backseat of a tiny Italian car between Matt Jackson and Kenny Omega, Tommaso Ciampa in the driver’s seat and Nick Jackson in the passenger’s seat. That’s who they were last night, anyway, participating in matches and stealing the show in Genoa, Italy. Today, you were just Matt, Tyson, Tommaso, Nick, and Hazel going to Portofino.

The promoter who had lured you all (and more) to Italy for a mini tour had mentioned the famous Italian Riviera town was only an hour away, so on the two days off you had between shows, you all decided to go. Nick had found the hotel and booked the rooms. Tommaso volunteered to drive. A car with Austin, Kyle, Johnny, Candice, and Bobby were following close behind you.

“You’re not squished, are you? D’you have enough room?” Tyson asked as he looked down at your frame, tiny in comparison to the bulk that surrounded you.

“I’ll live,” you assured him. “Besides, you’re the one with your knees up to your chin. Why didn’t you demand the front seat?”

“I couldn’t leave you in the middle between Matt and Nick,” he said, as if it was his moral obligation to protect you from two of the nicest guys on earth. “Besides, Nick wants to learn more Italian.”

“Nick can barely speak English.”

“Whatja just say about me?” he hissed playfully from the backseat. A smile spread across Tyson’s face. “You’re gonna pay for that, Hazel.”

“I’m terrified.”

“You’re fearless, huh?” Tommaso joked from the front seat, looking at you through his rearview mirror.

“Not fearless. I’m scared of a lot of things,” you clarified, being honest. “But Matt and Nick aren’t one of ‘em.”

When you all got into town, you checked into the hotel. It was obvious that Matt and Nick would share a room together, just like it was obvious Johnny and Candice would, too. After Austin paired up with Kyle (they were, technically, the other couple on the trip), and Tomasso paired up with Bobby, you and Tyson were inevitably the only pair left. Was it normal for a young female wrestler to sleep in a room with her mentor during a trip to Italy? Who knows. You (and Candice) were used to being the only girls in the room a lot. This was no different. All you knew was that it didn’t matter to you: you knew Tyson, and everybody else, and it was the last thing on your mind because what really mattered was that you were in Italy.

Tyson unlocked the hotel room, the both of you pulling your bags in behind you. There were two single beds placed together in the room, a window and a door out to the balcony providing the perfect cross breeze.

“Okay, we’re not in a university dorm,” you commented, scoffing at the setup of the beds before pushing them together. Tyson just watched. You looked up at him. “You need sunscreen?”

“Uh, yeah,” he nodded his head.

You found it in your bag and tossed it over to him. You walked over to the small balcony and stepped out, taking in the view of the harbour from the room. You guys got lucky, the way that this hotel was even available on such short notice – and five rooms at that. The sun was shining, there was a slight breeze, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. That alone told you that it was going to be a great day.

You had been admiring the view of the harbour so much that you almost didn’t hear Tyson step out and join you on the balcony. It was so small that between your bodies and the two chairs, it was full. “Matt and Nick texted to meet in the lobby in fifteen,” he said. “Are you good with that?”

Your bathing suit was already on underneath your sun dress, so you nodded your head. “Just need the sunscreen,” you mentioned, and he handed it to you. You perched your leg up on one of the chairs to slather the sunscreen on your leg, bringing it all the way up to the tops of your thighs. Tyson couldn’t help but stare at your legs and not the view of the harbour. You tried not to smile about it and looked away instead. “Do we know where we’re going, by the way? Portofino doesn’t exactly have a beach.”

Tyson furrowed his brows. “How do you know?”

“My dad was from around here, remember?”

Tyson nodded at your reminder. “That’s right. Sorry, I forgot.”

You’d told Tyson a lot of stories about your dad since you met him, and every time you told a story, mentioned a characteristic, an odd quirk your dad used to do, he’d always listened intently. You’d lost your dad to cancer at fifteen years old, and you missed him every day since. It left a hole in you. Understanding how close you and your dad were, Tyson always made sure to remember the details. You mentioned to him once how you actually liked speaking about him because it meant you were keeping his memory alive, and Tyson told you he thought that was the most touching thing he’d ever heard.

“You don’t have to apologize,” you said, moving on to your other leg. “I remember coming here as a kid. The beaches are really rocky. Either we get lucky and there’s nobody, or we have to find our own private place.”

He watched your hands travel up your thighs. “You should take the reins on that, then,” he said. You could see his Adam’s apple bob in his neck. “Tommaso’s Italian is shit.”

You did. Eventually, when you and the group made it down to the harbour, you asked in your broken Italian where the best place was – you probably sounded like a caveman – and some delightful locals pointed you in the right direction. Like you remembered, it was rocky, but you found enough spots on huge flat rocks for towels and bags. The best part was you were right beside a climbable cliff, so you knew all the guys would be doing crazy jumps. The entire afternoon was spent between tanning on the rocks and cooling off in the water. You had jumped off the cliff with Candice, with Tyson, and with Austin. You swam in the water and got your hair wet and let the sunlight hit your face. You’d caught Tyson’s eye so many times you lost count. You felt pure happiness.

There was a moment after you jumped off the cliff for the second time with Tyson – a good photo op, according to Matt taking them – where you held hands as your ran and plummeted into the water. Even underwater, despite the pressure, your hands stayed clasped. It was only when you got back to the surface that your hands separated. You could see Tyson’s smile. “You alright?” he asked.

You only nodded. You paddled the small distance over to him and attached your whole body to his. You don’t know what came over you, but you wrapped your legs around his torso underwater, and as you did you could feel his hands go to your thighs. Your arms wrapping around his shoulders, attaching yourself to him piggy-back style. He looked behind his shoulder to see you. “You sure you’re okay?”

You nodded again. “I just feel like being close to you,” you admitted. “Is that okay?”

There was a slight pause. “Of course,” he said. “You want to stay out here for a bit?”

“Yeah. Just you and me for a little bit,” you said. “Are you having fun?”

“I’m having the time of my life.”

“It sucks that we only get one day. This area of Italy is so beautiful. Have you ever been?”

“No. This is my first time,” he revealed. “I’m just happy I’m getting to spend it with you.”

You smiled, giving him as much of a hug as you could by squeezing your limbs around him tighter. “You’re going to have to come back and spend a decent amount of time here. I remember coming here when I was nine to visit my dad’s family, and, Ty—Portofino isn’t even the most beautiful town on the water. And the food – the food!”

He smiled. “We’re going to have to find a place tonight. You’ll have to use your Italian again. Find us the best restaurant in the town.”

There was silence between the two of you, the noise from the waves and from your friends and the other tourists filling the air instead. You leaned your head forward so it was settled right into his shoulder. “Hey Ty?” your voice was low this time.

“Hmm?”

“I’m happy I get to spend it with you, too. Sometimes I feel like all I want to do is spend time with you.”

Tyson felt the same. His breath caught in his throat. All he could do was nod. “Yeah…yeah.”

That night, after showering the salt water off and changing into another flowy dress, you all went out for dinner and had the best pasta and fish and wine you’d ever had in your life. The waiter fell in love with your group and kept bringing you goodies: glasses of wine from the cellar, shots from the bar, extra plates of tiramisu or bombe. Your stomach was full but your heart was fuller, and you didn’t want the day to end.

Retiring back to the hotel meant you and Tyson would be alone again. After the both of you packed away your things so you were already packed for tomorrow morning, you changed into pyjamas and got in to your pushed together beds. Tyson browsed through his phone a bit before setting it on his beside and turning over to his side to sleep.

You, on the other hand, could not.

You kept thinking of the feeling of his hands on your body. It wasn’t like it was a new sensation – you trained with him constantly. But there was something about the way he touched it when you were both in the water, the way nobody could see how his arms wrapped around you or how his hands went to your thighs to wrap your legs around his body as he gave you a piggy-back ride. Even at dinner, sitting beside you at the table on the patio overlooking the water, his forearm rubbing up against yours underneath the table since your group was so squished together.

It was electric. And now, all that electricity was in you with nowhere to go.

So much time had passed that you were 95% sure he was asleep. If you were to say anything, you’d definitely be waking him up from his beauty sleep. “Ty…” you mumbled out, still unsure if you even should as you stared up at the ceiling.

“Hazel?”

Well, at least you felt less bad about it now. “Can you sleep?”

“Nah,” he said. “Can you?”

“I think the sun today energized my body to the point where I can re-enact Shawn and Bret’s iron man match.”

You could hear Tyson giggle from his side of the bed. “Are you Bret or Shawn in that scenario?”

“Both.”

He snorted. You could feel him shift positions so that he could look at you now. You turned over to your side as well. “I’m dead serious. I feel, like, buzzed.”

“I’m sure one of the guys has melatonin if you’re really worried,” he said.

You shook your head. “I’ll be fine,” you assured him. “Can I see all the pictures you took today?”

Tyson had learned a long time ago from his good friend Rami Sebei that he should be taking pictures of all the places he went and everything he saw and did (just as Rami did), so he made it a point since then to do just that. He leaned over and unplugged his phone from the nightstand, and when he began to set back into his spot in bed, you didn’t let him until you had fit yourself into his side. He didn’t even think twice as you did so, wrapping his arm around your body as you nestled your head against his chest. You were so close he could smell the product you’d put into your hair. You giggled through all the photos, at Austin’s terrified face the first time he jumped, versus Matt and Nick contemplating whether they could do a shooting star press into the water. You saw the pictures he took of you and Candice hugging each other, and the pictures Bobby took of you and Tyson together on the rocks and posing in the shallow part of the water. The more you laughed and smiled, the more he did too.

When you’d seen all the photos, Tyson put his phone back on the nightstand but you stayed right where you were. He laid back, savouring the feeling of your head on his chest, of your arm draped across him, how your fingertips had tip-toed and glided along his skin every time you laughed at a picture.

“Can I ask you a question?” you asked, moving to look at him.

“Of course.”

“How lame did you think I was the first time you met me?”

He giggled again. So distinct in its sound; you’d be able to hear it from a mile away. “I didn’t think you were lame at all,” he was smiling at you. “I was actually shocked at how mature you were for your age, and how much you could talk about pro wrestling – more than anyone else in that class, that’s for sure. You were a bit of a freak, but I liked you. I don’t think you’re lame, or were lame.”

“I feel like you’re lying to me.”

“I’m not lying,” he assured you. “I’d never lie to you. Trust me on that one.”

“I’d never lie to you, either,” you said, butterflies in your stomach.

You were looking right in Tyson’s blue eyes then, hyperaware of the feeling of his fingertips grazing over the skin on your arm. His sunkissed skin, his eye crinkles, the scruff of his beard – it all added up in making you push yourself up so you could kiss him. It was very soft at first, but not hesitant, and when you pulled away you looked into his eyes, only to kiss him again.

He kissed back, moving his lips in perfect sync with yours as you continued, kiss after kiss after kiss. You don’t know how long you’d been kissing for, but eventually, it was your tongue that grazed his lips first, and soon you were tasting each other. After more time, he pushed back slightly so you were on your back, and gently, gently he got on top of you.

“Is this okay?” was the only thing he mumbled between when you started kissing and that moment.

“Please, Ty,” you nodded your head slightly and quickly. “We’ve been waiting all day.”

You both took it slow, surprisingly, despite all the pent up energy from the day. You wanted to make it last. Tyson’s body loomed over yours for a while, kissing your lips and your neck with such expertise you hadn’t experienced from anywhere else. You remembered cradling his face and running your fingers through his curly hair and thinking to yourself how lucky you were to be under him, to be with him like this so intimately. It wasn’t just that he’d been kind to you from the beginning, or that he’d taken you under his wing and acted as your mentor, especially in Japan, or that he’d looked out for you anywhere you found yourselves. It was that he was so considerate in his everyday life, so wise and so funny – God, did he ever make you laugh – and so passionate about his dreams and goals. A translation of that was happening right now, on a twin bed in a hotel room in Portofino, Italy.

Tyson had already been shirtless in bed, so all you really had to do was push down his boxers. You could feel the length and size of him against your body then, and your breath could only hitch in your throat in anticipation of what was to happen very soon. Your breathing got heavier as he helped you pull off your pyjama top, and you didn’t feel an ounce of self-consciousness as he looked down at your nearly naked body. He brought his kisses down your chest and along both your breasts before pulling down your bottoms.

He kissed you as he entered you, but you broke it as you let out a soft “Oh Jesus” at the feeling. His lips left yours and looked into your eyes then, making sure everything was okay without even saying anything. He grabbed each of your hands in his, intertwining your fingers before pushing them above your head, looking deep in to your eyes without looking away. You began moaning softly, involuntarily, at the pressure you felt of him holding you in that position as he moved in and out of you, your hips crashing together with every one of his thrusts. His eyes were blue – so blue – but you knew they were filled with fire. You were sure that your moans got slightly louder as the time passed, mixed in with your pants of his name every time he hit just the right spot.

At some point he let go of your hands and they immediately went to cup his face, pulling him down to kiss you so you could stick your tongue down his throat again. You didn’t stop kissing after that, your hands making their way up and down his torso, gripping on to his sides before moving up and settling underneath his arms and scratching at his shoulders and back. You were in heaven. Everything felt like pure bliss. The endless kisses, the moans from you and the moans from him. You had never felt anything so incredible in your life.

You noticed when Tyson’s breathing became more laboured, and you knew he was close. You were too. You dug your nails into his shoulders and tried to arch your hips just right. Hearing him grunt and let out a string of expletives under his breath was all you needed to do it again. “I’m so close,” you whispered, looking right into his eyes.

“Hazel…fuck…” was all he could let out.

“I want you to come inside me, Tyson.”

He didn’t last much longer after that, but he made sure you got there first. He looked into your eyes the whole time as he watched your orgasm overcome you, coursing through your body and making you moan out his name and dig your nails into his biceps. Only then did he allow himself his release, coming inside you, a series of grunts and moans of your name leaving him as he had his head buried in the crook of your neck.

You stayed together for a while, relishing in every last bit of what had just happened between you before Tyson couldn’t hold himself up on his forearms anymore. There was one last, long kiss before he pulled out of you. He lay by your side, still so close to your body. You couldn’t help the smile that overtook your face, and when you turned your head to look at him, he had an identical smile on his face, too.

Despite earlier complaints from the both of you of being unable to fall asleep, you had no trouble doing so now, your eyes feeling heavy and fluttering until you fell into a peaceful sleep.

The next morning was quiet except for the sound of birds chirping outside your window. The light was shining through from the morning sun, and when you opened your eyes and finally came to at least semi-consciousness, you saw and felt Tyson’s body underneath yours. He had an arm wrapped around you and were using him as a pillow.

Memories of what happened last night flooded your mind as you waited for him to wake up. From looking at the photos of the day to kissing him and then being under him, you remembered everything in vivid detail. You hadn’t been part of something so passionate in your life. It could have only happened with Tyson, too – you couldn’t picture it being with anyone else.

After a while, you felt him shift underneath you and groan, bringing his free hand up to rub his eyes. You began to trace shapes on his chest so he knew you were awake too. When he looked at you, a small, tired smile played on his lips. “Mornin’,” he whispered. “You good?”

“I’m good,” you nodded. “You sleep okay?”

“It was perfect.”

You smiled. “Even with me hogging the covers?”

“You actually didn’t this time. I was surprised,” he said, pulling your body so you were anchored right on top of his. He wiggled a bit to get comfortable, shifting the beds. “You were right about what you said last night, by the way. We’d been waiting for a while.”

You bit your bottom lip, nodding slightly. “You felt it too then, huh?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Of course I did.”

There was silence between you. Suddenly, a feeling came over you like lightning, seizing your whole body. You never used to be like this, but once you lost your dad, your emotions sometimes came in quick rushes – tsunamis, you sometimes referred to them – and you could never stop it from happening. You just had to learn how to deal with it, how to verbalize the emotion to solve it so you could go back to normal. This time, it wasn’t one of self-consciousness, or full-blown anxiety, or fear of the unknown, or anything major. It wasn’t even hesitation. It was just a nervousness; a nervousness of the soul. “This isn’t gonna change anything between us, is it?” you asked, verbalizing the first thing you became nervous about. Not having Tyson in your life wasn’t an option at this point.

“No,” he shook his head. “No it won’t.”

“And this won’t – I mean, you’re not gonna think differently about me, are you?” you continued. “Because I don’t – I know what it’s like for women in this business. I don’t want anybody thinking of me differently because of what we did—”

“Hey hey hey, shhhhh,” Tyson cooed. “Nobody’s going to think differently about you. Don’t think that. Nobody’s gonna know. It’ll stay between you and me, Hazel. I mean it.”

“Are you sure?” you asked. Not having the career you worked so hard to build also wasn’t an option at this point. People not respecting you wasn’t an option in general. You knew that respect would be gone if people knew you’d slept with your mentor. You could already imagine the things that would be said. You’d never earn anything on your own merit anymore; it would always be because you slept with Kenny Omega.

“Hazel, I would never,” he shook his head. “Like I said, we’d been waiting for a while. It happened. I don’t—I mean, I don’t think either of us regrets it—”

“—I don’t.”

“—Neither of us regrets it, but I don’t want anybody to know either. Nobody has to know, anyway. It’s nobody’s business but our own.”

That had calmed you down considerably. You were thankful he was so level-headed, thankful that he was so private in his dealings and personal life that you honestly didn’t have to worry. He wasn’t like so many others who would say one thing and do another; lead you on and then get with another girl. You had no worries that any of your friends or fellow wrestlers would ever know. You were able to keep your mouth shut. So was Tyson. “This is like Take This to Your Grave. You know, like the Fall Out Boy album?” you couldn’t help but quip.

Tyson snorted, rolling his eyes. “Hazel, were you even alive when that album came out?”

“HEY!” you jolted up, causing the beds to wiggle again. “I’ll have you know that was a seminal album in my life. “I was twelve and—”

“Oh my God, please stop talking right there,” he stressed. “Do not say another word.”

You smirked. “Did I just make you feel really o—”

“—Oh shit.”

You paused. “What?”

“—ohshitohshitohshit—”

“—What?!—”

“—Hold on!”

Tyson wrapped both his arms around you protectively, and before you knew it, you both had fallen through the beds. You yelped during the drop, but once you realized what had happened, you couldn’t stop laughing. Tears were falling from your eyes, rolling off of Tyson as he groaned from the impact – he took the brunt of it after all.

“Christ Almighty,” he grumbled through your hysterical laughs. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “That was worse than some bumps I’ve taken in the ring.”

“I can’t believe that just happened,” you managed to get out in a high-pitched voice between your hysterical laughter. “I don’t think I’ve ever laughed this hard in my life.”

“Yeah, funny for you because I saved you!”

You propped yourself up on your forearm. Your cheeks were red from laughing, wet from the tears. “Let me kiss you one last time to make it better.” Except you didn’t wait. You just lowered your face and planted your lips on his. You didn’t know what you meant the kiss to be, but it lasted longer than anticipated, only stopping when the alert from Tyson’s phone went off. Only then did you pull away. “That must be Nick or Matt texting about breakfast. We should clean ourselves up and go.”

Tyson didn’t say anything as he watched you rise from the floor, not bothering to wrap the top sheet or comforter around your naked body. He stayed on the floor in between the beds as he heard the shower turn on, closing his eyes.

***

28th May 2023

criticize the way you fly when you're soaring through the sky shoot you down and then they sigh and say, "she looks like she's been through it"

You always found Las Vegas to be way too hot. It was a decent enough city, and you’d had some fun there, but the heat was always something you could never get over. Double or Nothing meant that there were so many people and personalities at T-Mobile Arena. You hung out mostly in the women’s locker room. At least there, you knew you were safe.

“You haven’t run into him, have you?” Hikaru asked discreetly, chomping down on a baby carrot.

You shook your head. “Nah. But I’ve kinda just been laying low in here. I hope I’m not overstaying my welcome.”

“That’s impossible,” Hikaru said. “You can stay in here the whole night if you have to. I mean, he’s gotta talk to Tyson about what’s happening in a few weeks, right?”

“Yeah. Worst case scenario I walk in on them during that.”

“Well, if you do, you call me so I can whoop his ass for you. It’s been a long time coming for that punk ass bitch.”

You couldn’t help but snort at her words. She had obviously been informed well about the transgressions that had been committed and she was firmly Team Hazel. Not that it was ever any doubt – you and Hikaru had been great friends ever since your days in Japan. But the main different between you was that Hikaru would follow through – if she said she was going to whoop someone’s ass, she’d whoop someone’s ass. You’d mostly just cry about it in an abandoned washroom and in a hotel room afterwards. It was your specialty.

“You’ve always been my girl, Hikaru. What would I do without you?” you quipped with a smile.

Hikaru smirked. “Don’t even go there, girl. It all comes from here, by the way,” she said, pounding lightly on her chest where her heart was. “I got you, Hazel. You want me to grab you something from catering?”

You shook your head, standing up from your chair. “I shouldn’t be afraid to go get food,” you said. “You want more carrots?”

Your walk to catering was eventful, having a chat with Christopher Daniels along the way. Once you got there, you grabbed a plate of food, some Gatorade, and a Greek salad. You didn’t see Tony Schiavone creep up behind you, but he was a welcome partner to chat with as he picked up some dinner too. The two of you walked through the halls together, chatting like old friends as your food got cold. You didn’t really care, because every chat with Tony was so lively, and he expressed serious interest in appearing on Kick Out in the Kitchen. When you said goodbye as Tony disappeared into one of the guys’ locker rooms, Greg left the one across the way. The door was slow to close. You’d think for all the money Las Vegas had, doors would close properly in their arena.

“Right, and so many people shat on her even though it wasn’t her fault,” you heard an all-too-familiar voice from the locker room. “She got heat for it for months. She’d be crying every night because all the shitty girls didn’t want to wrestle her. And when she got to Japan, she already had a reputation. Took a lot of convincing to get her into promotions. Bea knew what she was doing in the ring but she got such a bad rap.”

“But you guys broke up a while ago, no?” said another voice.

“Mistakes happen in the ring all the time,” you heard one more voice.

“All the time,” the familiar voice said. Then a giggle. “It’d be much harder now to pick her up and drop her on her head, if you know what I mean.”

Everyone in the room, whoever they were, were giggling. Snickering, even, at his comment about your body. You froze in place, and by the time their conversation started up again, the door had finally closed, their voices gone.

Your body had inevitably gone through a change after you were forced to stop wrestling. You had been in such great shape – you had to be, for heaven’s sake – and had worked out often. But once you broke your neck and had to get the fusion surgery, most of it had to stop. It might put too much stress on your neck in ways you never thought possible, your doctor said. And truth be told, you were too scared to do anything too tenuous, because like the doctor told you, you should have suffocated to death in the ring and it was a miracle you were even walking in the first place. This meant that you had gained weight – about thirty pounds, when all was said and done. But because of your physique beforehand, it was noticeable. You didn’t look like a wrestler with muscles and abs anymore, but you still looked like, well, a normal woman with some meat on her bones. You weren’t unrecognizable. Nobody cared, nobody commented on it.

Except, apparently, Will Ospreay.

You don’t know what came over you, but you dropped everything but the Gatorade into the next trashcan you saw. You felt that if you ate anything, it would just come back up. That’s how much your stomach was in knots at his comment. And the laughs. God, you wished you had just barged in to see who was laughing at the comment, at your body. Nobody had any idea what you went through, and how bad you took the news that you could never wrestle again. It ate away at you for months, years even, and now these men were laughing about how your body had changed because of that life-altering event? Fuck them. And fuck Will Ospreay.

The same Will Ospreay that had endeared you when you were younger. The same Will Ospreay that you fancied, that kissed you and made out with you and strung you along for months, always saying no to firm commitment but always calling you late at night to hook up or have fun. The same Will Ospreay who told you that you could be clingy and overbearing despite not being clingy or overbearing. The same Will Ospreay that led you on, letting you believe you were the only one. The same Will Ospreay that sent you a simple text when you had broken your neck and never paid you a visit. The same Will Ospreay that began hooking up with Bea so soon afterwards that you were sure there was overlap. The same Will Ospreay that began to date her only a few weeks after your surgery, her smug smile on every uploaded picture only a reminder to you of what had happened in your personal and professional life. The same Will Ospreay that you fucking hated with everything in you.

You escaped into a washroom, again, and checked every stall to ensure it was empty, again. God, you felt like you were going to do this every show now. You didn’t cry this time. Instead, you began rubbing at your tattoo on the inside of your right wrist: a chef’s knife that you got in memory of you dad. You made sure to breathe in and out, in and out, in and out. Closing your eyes, you thought back to the first few months after your neck surgery. The first few weeks were hard. You had cried a lot, and you hated your neck brace. You remember finding out the news about Will and Bea and basically becoming a vegetable in your bed. The two weeks that Tyson came to stay with you made everything better, but there was one moment that stuck out, that you remembered so vividly.

Tyson had made lunch one day, some chicken thighs and vegetables and he plated some old pasta salad in your fridge. You were excited to eat, but when you tried gripping on to your fork and knife, you couldn’t. A common side effect after neck surgery, especially neck surgery like yours, but it hadn’t happened to you yet. You thought you were over that hurdle, that it would have happened right after your surgery. You tried again. You couldn’t. You tried just the fork, in your right hand, and you managed to keep it in your hand instead of having it fall on the table. But when you tried to fork a piece of pasta, you couldn’t at all, and your fork fell loudly into your plate. You started sobbing like a baby. Tyson rushed over to you – he had been preparing drinks – and asked what was wrong. You explained through tears and he could barely understand you. You had lost your appetite you were so distraught. But then Tyson – bless him – got you to calm down enough that you weren’t a sobbing mess. He picked up your fork, got a couple of vegetables on it, and held it up near your mouth to feed you.

“Tys…” you remember being on the verge of tears again. You felt like a fucking baby having somebody feed you.

“Eat, Hazel. I got you.”

You almost didn’t, because you were too proud. But when you saw the look on his face, and how he was looking at you, you opened your mouth and ate the food. You chewed it slowly, embarrassed that it had come to this. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“You’re feeding me like I’m a baby. This is embarrassing.”

Tyson shook his head. “This is not embarrassing at all,” he said before forking some chicken. “What would be embarrassing is if you made me do an airplane to get you to eat.”

He always knew how to get you to smile, even at your lowest point. You opened your mouth again to eat the chicken. “Hey Tyson?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. I mean it.”

Tyson cut up and fed you your entire meal, even gripping your glass for you to drink, before eating himself. And a few days later, when it happened again, he did it all again without hesitation. That’s what Tyson had done for you. That’s what made you realize he would be in your life forever. And those men in that locker room were laughing.

***

Tyson always made decisions for the good of his company – the company that he helped create and build from the ground up. Whatever was good for the company was good for him. Whatever made his friends money and got fans in seats. That meant that despite his personal feelings towards Will Ospreay, he was working him again at Forbidden Door in Toronto. They had faced each other earlier in the year at Wrestle Kingdom, for the good of New Japan Pro Wrestling. Now he’d be facing him for the good of All Elite Wrestling. Tyson was able to keep his feelings quite personal, never letting anybody know what he really thought or felt.

Everybody except the two guys who could read him like a book.

Matt and Nick looked on as he spoke with Will about their match in Toronto. Tyson would be dropping the title – he knew that already – but they were going over spots, storyline, and emotion. Will focused on spots, but Tyson was focusing on emotion. What was the story? What story did Tyson want to tell?

“What do you think about a big spot, like—”

“Another big spot? Haven’t we got enough big spots?” Tyson quipped.

“Listen, I was thinking of a Tiger Driver—”

“—Oh fuck—” a female voice exclaimed.

Everybody’s heads turned to the doorway to see Hazel popping in her head. Tyson, Will, Matt, Nick, Austin, Chris Daniels – everyone looked at her. Tyson noticed her stare fixed on Will before looking at him. He knew that this was the one thing she didn’t want to happen. Running into Will. “Um, I’m sorry to interrupt—”

“—It’s okay sweetcheeks—” Matt offered.

“—I’m gonna, um, bring Hikaru back to the hotel when everything is over, so don’t worry. Bye.”

She shut the door abruptly. The men in the room stayed silent for a few moments before stealing quick glances at each other. Austin looked over at Tyson first, but wasn’t able to read the emotion on his face. Nick and Matt looked at Tyson too, but he was as stoic as a rock. Will had already shrugged his shoulders and discounted the experience. “Anyone else see how her eyes were watery?” Chris Daniels commented.

“Probably emotional because she knows we’re losing tonight,” Nick tried to cover quickly. He didn’t want to speculate in a room full of men why Hazel Fiore looked like she was tearing up. It was nobody’s business. Especially not with Will in the room.

“She’s always been emotional,” Will commented, as if he was an authority on the issue. Like he had the right to speak about her in any capacity. “It’s like, you kinda feel bad, but you also understand why, y’know? She’s got major daddy issues.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Tyson’s response was literally automatic upon hearing the words come out of Will’s mouth, his tone scathing and unlike anything any of the other men had ever heard before. Will looked at him, shocked, as if he hadn’t said anything wrong, even though Matt and Nick had also voiced their displeasure with words Tyson couldn’t hear through his anger and disgust. “Seriously, what’s your fucking problem?” he followed up on a dumbfounded Will.

“What?” he asked incredulously.

“Who the fuck says that about a girl who lost her dad at fifteen to cancer,” Tyson’s voice was still calm but full of disgust. “It’s so fucking insensitive. How could you even say that?”

“Ty, come on—”

“—Just fuck off, Will. Seriously, fuck off,” he stood up from his seat and waved Will off, shaking his head. “Get out of my fucking locker room. I swear to God. I know a lot of dumb fucks, Will, but you just might be the dumbest.”

“Ty—”

“You’re winning the belt in Toronto, so do however many spots you fuckin’ like. Maybe now at least one of your five star matches will be memorable because I’m in it. Now get out,” his tone was angrier and threatening.

Will left with a scowl on his face. All the men in the room watched Tyson as he paced back and forth. When he noticed Chris look at him, he stopped abruptly. “What?”

“Nothing. You did the right thing.”

***

“Please go away. You’re going to think I’m a big baby. That I’m still as lame as I was when you first met me,” you bemoaned, Tyson refusing to move from his heat on the edge of the bed. “I’m serious. Go to Wendy’s with the Bucks. Get me a Frosty. Be anywhere but here so you don’t have to see me like this.”

“Why? Because I haven’t seen you like this before?” he countered, making you fall silent. He had seen you like this many times before, but it was still unnerving, still a bit embarrassing to be a 31-year-old woman still emotional about something that happened seven years ago. And to be like this over a guy you had actively – and successfully – avoided seeing for those seven years? “C’mon, Haze. Give me a little bit of credit.”

You sighed, taking a deep breath as you looked him in the eye. “I don’t mean it like that,” your voice was small. “I don’t mean to make you mad—”

“—You’re not making me mad—”

“—I just don’t want my problems becoming your problems. You deal with enough shit already. You got bit by an adult human male, Tyson.”

The both of you couldn’t help but snort. The situation had to be lightened slightly. “Come on. Tell me.”

You sighed again. “Something happened earlier in the night, before I walked in on you guys in the locker room. I had gone to catering and was speaking with Tony and then when he went into his locker room, Greg was leaving the one across. And while the door was open, I just…you know, heard some stuff.”

Tyson furrowed his brows. “Stuff? What stuff?”

“I kinda just overheard him talking. I don’t know what his breakup with Bea was like, and I really don’t care, but uhhh, he was telling them some sob story about how much heat she got for what she did to me and how it affected their relationship, and he just made this comment, like, ‘It’d be much harder now to pick her up and drop her on her head, if you know what I mean’, and—”

Tyson didn’t even say anything, but you had to stop talking because he stood up at lightning speed and began making his way towards the door. “Tyson—”

“—Do not stop me.”

Tyson was fast, but you were faster. You slipped right by him and barricaded the door dramatically, like you were holding him hostage. You kind of feel like you had to now, based on what you’d just told him. “Nope. You’re not leaving this hotel room—”

“—Yes I fucking am—”

“—No, you’re not, because that’s not even the worst part.”

He stepped back. It was like he couldn’t comprehend what you’d just said. “What do you mean that’s not even the worst part?” his voice got high pitched.

“Go back to the bed—”

“—Hazel—”

“Go back to the bed, now, or else,” you threatened. You had nothing to threaten him with at all, but you were serious. You didn’t want drama, or commotion, or anything of the sort. Tyson had been through enough over the last year that you thought he should be done for the rest of his life. There was no reason for him to take this on as his own, to defend whatever honour you had left – if you had any at all.

You laid one of your hands on his forearm to calm him down. “It got worse because once he said it, I heard people laughing,” you explained. You felt him shift, his arm twitching in anger, but it was subtle. “And I know you’re going to ask who it was, but I don’t know. I didn’t go in there to see or to yell at them or whatever else. I just took my dinner and chucked it into the closest garbage can and just…” you trailed off. “You just…you can’t imagine how awful it feels to be a woman and have your colleagues, your supposed friends, whoever they were, laughing at a joke about your body. It’s soul-crushing. And I just…you know,” you shrugged, unable to find the words. “After everything I’ve been through, I still let this bullshit get to me.”

Tyson pulled you into him to hug you, wrapping his giant arms around you just like he used to during your first visit to Japan, just like he used to after big matches after his shower, just like he always did, really. Tyson gave the best hugs. When he engulfed you, it was like all your problems just washed away and you were cleansed. It was like you were back in the waters of Portofino holding on to him, not wanting to let go. “D’you remember when I stayed with you those two weeks after your neck surgery and I had to feed you?”

“Of course, Ty. I actually thought about it after I heard the laughing. I’d never forget that.”

“Just remember that,” he encouraged. “Just remember everything I’d do for you before you let anyone of those fuckers get in your head.”

You waited for Tyson to wash his face to put on your pyjamas before the both of you got into bed. You wondered if he’d get close at all, possibly even touch you, but the second you were both laying down, your question was answered. His body moved towards yours like a fight-or-flight response, one of his arm draping over your body. He curled up right against your back, like the big spoon, your body nestling perfectly into his. Memories flooded his mind. Memories of the G1 Climax Tournament he won.

In the quietness of the room, with the low hum of the air conditioner the only noise, Tyson placed a kiss on your shoulder. He didn’t say anything, but he knew you felt it.

For him, it was getting harder and harder to control.

***

TOKYO 2016

i said remember this moment in the back of my mind the time we stood with our shaking hands, the crowds in stands went wild

You know you will remember the moment vividly as you watch it happen. You will remember the finished move and how Tyson pinned his opponent. You will remember the bell ringing after the referee’s hand hit the mat three times. You will remember the roar of the crowd and the excitement in everybody’s eyes to see the first ever gaijin win the G1 Climax. You will remember how gruelling of a month it was for Tyson, how emotionally draining it had been. You will remember it all culminating in this moment. Of him winning. Of him making history.

You weren’t able to see him right away. There were in-ring celebrations and post-match press conferences to be had, and various people from New Japan saw him first. You had to be on standby, and you could have chewed your nails off waiting. Even when the suits finished, the handler from New Japan made you wait an additional ten minutes just to see him.

You knocked lightly on his door before peeping your head in. He was sitting on a giant production case, the tournament trophy beside him. His legs were dangling off the edge, not touching the floor. Not many things could make him look small. He looked your way and when he saw you, the most tired of smiles appeared on his face.

“Can I come in?”

“Of course,” he nodded quickly, and you slipped in before shutting the door behind you. “What did you think?”

“I think you’re incredible,” you said, approaching him and standing in front of him. Your eyes scanned over the trophy briefly before you focused your attention back on him. “Has it sunk in yet for you? That you just made history?”

He took a few breaths, shaking his head slightly. “No. I guess I did, didn’t I? First gaijin to win the G1. I can say that now.”

“Doesn’t it feel amazing?” you asked.

“I’m so tired and drained that I don’t know what amazing feels like right now,” he said, causing you both to laugh slightly. “I think tomorrow morning as I’m eating breakfast it’s gonna hit me like a ton of bricks.”

You couldn’t help but smile, stepping closer to him so you were standing between his spread legs. You don’t know what came over you, but seeing him the way he was – in his gear, beside the giant G1 Climax trophy, still trying to catch his breath, the weight of what just happened and what it meant looming over the both of you…you really don’t know what came over you.

You kissed him. You held his big, sweaty head in your hands and you kissed him. Only a couple of seconds after it began, you realized what you were doing and you pulled away. “Shitsorry—sorry—” you began mumbling and apologizing quickly.

“—It’s okay—”

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry Tys—”

“—Hazel, it’s alright. It’s okay.”

You put your fingers over your lips, as if that would stop it from happening again. A physical barrier is what you needed, apparently. Not a mental one. You looked in each other’s eyes before one of his characteristic close-lipped smiles spread across his face. “I’m very happy you’re here,” he whispered. “I really—I really like you being here.”

“I think you’re just saying that because I act like an idiot and provide you entertainment,” you said, trying to make light of what just happened.

“I don’t think you’re an idiot at all,” he shook his head only slightly, not able to do much else with his body after what had just transpired in the ring. “Please stop thinking that.”

“I bet you do secretly.”

“No,” he was firmer in his tone this time. “I know a lot of dumb people, and you’re not one of them.”

Before you could say anything else, there was another knock at the door. You stepped away from being so close to Tyson. He looked extremely annoyed. A man began speaking in Japanese from the other side of the door, and Tyson answered back while rolling his eyes. The door closed before you even understood what was going on. “Sorry.”

“What was that about?”

“Driver wanted to know how much longer. I told him fifteen minutes so I could shower.”

“It’s okay,” you said, nodding your head once. “Go shower. We—I’ll meet you in the car. I know you’re tired, so we’ll celebrate tomorrow.”

The driver drove you both to a local hotel near Ryogoku Kokugikan, the company deciding to put everybody up in the hotel since they wanted to film a press conference tomorrow afternoon. You checked into your respective rooms, which were only down the hall from each other. But as you were getting ready for bed, your phone buzzed on your bathroom vanity.

Neck hurts like a motherfucker.

Colour me shocked, Ty. Are you okay?Do you want me to drop by? I have some Rub A535.

What are you, my dad?

You rolled your eyes at his response. He was the geriatric one.

Has neck pain, still acts like a pain in the ass.

You threw on a robe and made sure to grab your key card before making your way over to his room. You knocked quietly and he opened not long after. You let yourself in. “Seriously, Rub A535? You’re an old man.”

“I bet it’s like looking into a mirror then, eh?” you countered.

Tyson’s jaw dropped. “You jezebel!”

You both broke out into laughter, making your way further into his room. You threw your robe onto the extra bed. He was wearing an old, stupid pair of shorts to sleep in. “Sit,” you said as you got on his bed. “Show me where it’s hurting. I can try to massage it.”

“Are you licensed? Can I claim you on my insurance?”

You gave him a look. “Do you want my help or not!”

He giggled, sitting himself on the edge of the bed. “Right up over here,” he showed you with his hand, “and over here. Just be careful though, okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” both of your voices were calm at this point. There was no room for joking around. “You have to tell me if I’m hurting you,” you warned, with Tyson nodding his head.

You began massaging the first place he showed you, and almost the second you applied pressure, Tyson groaned. He encouraged you to keep going, that it felt good. “You know, this wouldn’t be happening to you if you didn’t keep landing on your neck all the time,” you whispered.

“What fun would that be?” he asked. You shook your head.

Your continued massaging, being as careful as you could, moving on to the other areas that he pointed out to you. You could hear his little satisfied exhales, the little groans he let out when you hit a spot well. You switched back and forth between the spots for a while, Tyson appreciating every minute. You didn’t know if he could feel how close you got once you really got into it, or if he could feel your breath on his neck. But you were happy you were making him feel better, happy you were with him and his beautiful soul on the biggest night of his career thus far.

“Ah shit,” you almost didn’t hear him swear under his breath.

You pulled your hands back towards your chest. “Fuck, did I hurt you?”

“No no, it’s okay, keep going,” he urged.

“Tys—”

“It wasn’t you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

You stayed silent, exhaling slightly before continuing to massage over near his shoulder as you had been, being a little more careful. You would never be able to forgive yourself if you had hurt him somehow. He winced at some points and groaned in others, like he had been when you focused on his neck, but you could still tell something was up. When you looked over his shoulder, you could see him trying discreetly to adjust his shorts, pulling some of the fabric forward as if he was trying to hide or cover something.

And then it hit you like a ton of bricks.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you kept massaging, garnering another groan from him. You took your time getting closer and closer to him until you were positive he could feel your breath on his skin. “Don’t worry about it, Ty,” you whispered in his ear in a knowing tone. “It’s okay.”

He shook his head slightly. You were positive the redness you saw in his cheeks wasn’t from the increased blood flow to his neck and shoulders. “No it’s not. It’s embarrassing. This is, like, what happens with pervs.”

“It’s not embarrassing. It happens. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize about,” you assured him. By this point, you had stopped paying attention to your massaging and had no idea if what you were doing even helped. You were too busy looking over his shoulder, trying to see through his shorts. You inhaled quietly. “D’you want me to take care of it?”

Tyson shook his head, still embarrassed. “No no no. Gosh Hazel, you don’t have to do that.”

“I’ll do it, Ty. I don’t mi—”

“—Hazel…” there was a hesitation in his voice.

There was a pause as your back and forth hung in the air. “Is it cause you don’t want me to?”

He shook his head. “That’s not it.”

“Then what is it?” you asked, bringing your lips down to kiss his shoulder.

He stayed silent. He was almost ashamed because he couldn’t say anything out loud. How could he? He knew what he wanted to say, he just couldn’t say it. He couldn’t let you know; it had to stay inside him. For his good. For your good. He felt you kiss his shoulder again and he inhaled. “Hazel…”

“Remember Portofino?”

He couldn’t help the small smile that spread on his lips. “Of course.”

You kissed your way from his shoulder to where it met his neck. “Do you really not want to? Cause I’ll stop,” you whispered in his ear.

Tyson shook his head. He could do many things, but he couldn’t deny this right now. “I just…I can barely move.”

“You don’t have to,” you assured him. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Haze…”

“Shhhh…” you cooed, kissing his neck. “Lie down.”

“Haze—you don’t—I don’t want you to think you have to do that.”

“I want to, Tyson. I feel safest with you.”

He didn’t lie down just yet. Instead, he pulled you on to his lap and began kissing you. You straddled him as you kissed him back, feeling his hands go to your thighs and travel around to your ass, squeezing the flesh there. You could barely let go of him as his tongue entered your mouth. Your hands wandered between his toned body and his hair, gripping it at the nape of his neck. He was so much bigger now, so much bigger than you remember him being. You didn’t know how long you just sat there making out for, but your lips felt swollen when you stopped, even if it just was momentarily. “Ty?” you breathed out, feeling his length between your legs.

“Hmm?”

“Do you want to be inside me or in my mouth?”

“Shit Hazel,” he swore underneath his breath. The way you worded the question almost made him come right then and there. “In—inside you.”

You gave him a quick kiss. “Lie down.”

He listened this time, and you both moved to better positions on the bed, him lying down like you demanded. You helped him out of his shorts, freeing his hard cock. You took off your own pyjama bottoms, but Tyson raised his arms so he could slide your panties down your legs. You kissed a trail down his chest before straddling him again. You reached down between you and positioned his cock so he could enter you, and you lowered on to him slowly, having to adjust to his size. “Fuck Ty,” you couldn’t help but breath out along the way. When you bottomed out, a shiver ran up your spine.

“Jesus, Hazel,” he breathed out. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

You knew he could barely move, and you knew you’d be the one putting in most of the work here, so you took a few more moments to adjust before you began rolling your hips back and forth slowly. Tyson watched and his eyes rolled to the back of his head at the visual.

You took your time getting into a rhythm, wanting this to last as long as it could. The last time, in Portofino, your body had been buzzed from being out in the sun all day. This time around, the both of you were exhausted, but that didn’t mean there was any less energy between you two, or any less love. You would do anything for Tyson, and Tyson would do anything for you. So you were taking it gently, and you were taking it slowly, but you knew it would feel just as good as Portofino did two years ago, just as perfect as it did then too, despite nothing happening since.

Tyson’s hands were placed firmly on your thighs at first, before they moved to your hips and followed your movements loosely. You placed your hands over his, intertwining your fingers slightly. “Y’okay, Ty?”

“You feel fucking incredible,” he whispered.

“You want me to take my top off?”

“Yes please.”

You giggled at his request of please. So polite. You could take the boy out of Canada, but you couldn’t take Canada out of the boy. You led his hands from your hips all the way up your body, dragging your shirt long with it, before he pulled it off entirely and tossed it to the side. Your breasts were exposed then, and all it took was the sight of them to give Tyson a burst of energy, moving to sit up. One arm wrapped around your waist to hold you down on his cock as he attacked your lips with his. He cupped your breast, which overflowed even in his big hands. You moaned into his kisses, gripping the hair at the nape of his neck again. Your fingernails dug into the skin of his shoulder blades where you had been massaging earlier. “Ty…” you whispered out as he moved from your lips to your neck. “Ty, lie down. I got you. I told you I’d take care of you.”

“You’re so beautiful, Hazel.”

A shiver ran up your spine hearing those words. You pushed him back down before placing your hands on his chest for leverage as you began to roll your hips again. Your breathing got heavier; so did his. You savoured every moment of being on top of him, having his amazing body underneath you as you worked to pleasure the both of you. You were completely drunk on him, willing that this exact feeling could last forever.

Tyson had gotten more vocal the longer you two went on. Between the sight of you on top of him and the feeling of him inside you, he was close. It didn’t help that he’d gotten a head start during the massage. “You’re gonna make me come.”

You were desperate – you could admit that. You didn’t want it to end. He felt too good inside of you. You felt too connected to him to have it be over, regardless of how long you’d been riding him. You couldn’t even keep track or have any idea because you were so wrapped up in the feeling of him. “No,” you shook your head, biting your bottom lip. “No, not yet.”

Tyson couldn’t believe what he’d heard. “What?”

“Not yet,” you repeated more emphatically. “Want more. Need more.”

A shiver ran up his spine hearing those words. It took everything in him not to come then and there. Instead, he began to move his hips along with yours, and you could automatically feel the difference. Your moaning got louder. Tyson almost couldn’t take it. “You’re getting so deep, Ty.”

“Keep going, baby.”

You clenched when the words left his mouth. Your hips kept rolling, your clit rubbing against his body as his cock was hitting you so deep and at the perfect angle. After a while longer, you found yourself getting closer, as you were sure he was hitting your G-spot. “Ty…oh fuck Ty—I—I—”

You couldn’t say anything else as the most intense orgasm you’d ever felt washed over your entire body. Your entire body shook with pleasure – you could even feel it in your fucking toes. You had never felt anything like it before and oh my God, was it glorious. You swore you could see stars as you clenched around him, repeating his name over and over like a prayer. At some point, it was all too much for you, and you felt yourself collapsing on to him. Your breasts were between your bodies, pressing against him as he held you down with his arms. As he pumped in and out of you, you could feel his release too, his groans and how you felt full from him.

You felt empty when he slipped out of you, but you kissed him to make up for it, kiss after kiss after kiss. Were you being sappy? Both times this had ended up happening, it was truly spur of the moment. But during both times, there had been so much pent up energy between you that it could only culminate in something like this. And during both times, you didn’t want them to end. You knew you’d remember every detail.

In between kisses, you couldn’t help yourself. “Love you, Ty.”

“Love you too, Hazel,” he responded right after. It was only then that you heard the true fatigue in his voice.

He didn’t let go of you as you rolled off him and onto his side. You were both on your sides now, and he pulled you up against his chest. All of his muscles, tired and overused as they were, pressed into your back as he tucked his head against your shoulder. Before the fatigue finally consumed him, he placed a kiss on your shoulder; you brought his hand up and kissed it too, finally drifting off to sleep.

The next morning, Tyson could barely move. He’d need help getting out of bed. But that was typical. What really mattered wasn’t his pain or how stiff some of his joints were. What really mattered was that he was still in bed, with you, looking into your eyes. One of your hands was playing with his hair. One of his hands was drawing circles along the skin on your arm. You were both quiet. You were both in the moment, since you didn’t have to be anywhere else for a while.

“You’re career’s about to take off in ways we never would have thought,” you barely whispered. You wondered if the weight of what he had accomplished last night had finally hit him. “Are you gonna remember little ol’ me when you’re rich and famous?”

The smallest of smiles cracked on his lips. “Duh. You’re unforgettable.”

“A lot of things are gonna change you, and I want you to know that I think you deserve all the good things coming to you. Whatever they are,” you continued. “You know that, right?”

“I do,” he said. “But it’s not all about me. You’re going to do some pretty big things too. Stardom’s gonna shoot you to the moon because you deserve it. And what’s happening in California when you go back?”

“I’ve got a match with Candice, and a match with Bea Priestley again. Let’s hope I don’t walk out with another broken sternum.”

“You’re gonna knock both out of the park, because you always do. Then everybody’s gonna be clamouring for you. There’s going to be bidding wars over you,” he assured you. “You’re just as good as I am. If not better.”

“Oh stop,” you said, blushing and embarrassed at his words. You buried your face into the pillow so you didn’t have to look at him. You could feel him move, sticking his face into the crook of your neck as he kissed along it.

“I mean it, Haze,” he mumbled against your temple between kisses.

When you raised your head back up, he peppered your face with light pecks before giving you quick kisses on your lips. When you stopped kissing, you took in the silence between you. “Hey Tys…”

“Hmm?”

Your hand moved to caress his face along his beard. “I wasn’t—I didn’t just, like, blurt out the words last night and didn’t mean them,” you stuttered out. “I do love you. In my own way.”

“I know,” he said. “I meant what I said last night too. That I’m very happy you’re here. That I like you being here with me. And that I love you.”

“But you don’t…even after what happened in Portofino, we can’t do much more than this, can we?” you asked. Secret little love affairs. One-off passionate nights after emotionally charged moments that brought you closer together, closer than you ever thought you’d ever get with your mentor, your best friend, your person.

His heart broke. Again, he was ashamed because he couldn’t say anything out loud. He couldn’t let you know; it had to stay inside him. For his good and for your good. “It’s not the right time,” he said instead.

Your heart didn’t break. It had no reason to. He was right, but you didn’t want to admit it. “Not—not that anything would change but if—if—do you think it ever will be the right time in the future?”

He felt his stomach in knots. He answered with the only answer he could give.

“I don’t know.”

A few weeks later, when Matt and Nick were back in Japan, they would watch intently as Tyson was glued to his phone. They’d give each other a look that Tyson wouldn’t see, and then they’d go about their business, eating their ice cream or searching for directions to a coffee shop. But one night, after they walked into Tyson’s hotel room at the tail end of an hour-long phone call, Nick made the executive decision.

“Sorry. It was Hazel,” Tyson said once he hung up.

“Figured as much. You don’t talk to anyone else on the phone that long but us and her,” Nick smirked.

Tyson shrugged. “Yeah, well…”

“She doing okay?”

“She’s fine.”

“How was it when she was over here?” Matt piped in.

Tyson was avoiding eye contact. “It was nice,” he kept his answers simple. “Nice that I had someone here with me for winning the G1, you know.” Despite being some of his best friends, they didn’t know what had happened in Italy, and they weren’t going to know about what happened after the G1.

“Mmmhhhmmm,” Nick nodded. “Must’ve been.”

“Are you gonna tell her how you feel?” Matt asked, getting straight to the point. “She’s gottta know, Ty.”

Tyson shook his head. Those observant little fuckers. “No.”

Nick grimaced. “Why not?”

Tyson took a deep breath, sighing afterwards. “It’s just easier if she doesn’t. Even if it rips me apart.”

***

25th June 2023

you say, "i don't understand," and i say, "i know you don't" we thought a cure would come through in time, now, i fear it won't

You watched with tears in your eyes as the trainer attended to Tyson after his match with Will, going through concussion protocol and range of motion exercises to ensure everything was okay and that nothing was broken. Tyson sat their quietly, complying with everything, moving his shoulders and legs, blinking once and then twice, maintaining focus then following a light, stretching his neck back and forth and side to side. That was the most important exercise of all, after what had happened in the ring. After he didn’t tell you one of the most important spots in the match.

“Everything looks completely fine, Mr. Smith,” the head trainer said, finally, much to everybody’s relief. Everybody except you.

“God Ty, that Tiger Driver looked brutal,” Nick said. “Helluva spot, but brutal nonetheless.” Of course he would say that.

“I thought it looked incredible,” Matt pitched in. “If anybody could have done it and taken it correctly, it was you.” Of course he would say that.

“That’ll grab the headlines,” Christopher Daniels said. Of course he would say that.

“Leave the really big spots for a Canada, huh?” Stephen joked. Of course he would say that.

It was then that Tyson locked eyes with you – you, staying completely silent across the way of the room, though you knew by now your face was probably beet red with emotion. You had so much emotion stored inside of you, from the beginning of the match until now, and you didn’t know when it was going to burst. Forty minutes of your heart being in the pit of your stomach.

Tyson finally noticed.

“Can everyone just…” he began, sighing and trailing off before recollecting his thoughts. “Just give me a couple of minutes – alone, please,” he ordered, albeit politely. Everybody stood silent, awkwardly. “Now guys. Come on. Everyone out.”

You didn’t move, but everyone else did. When they were all out, and you were all alone with Tyson, that’s when all the emotion stored inside of you came out. One of your tsunamis. Now. Of all times it could happen.

“What’s the matter? What’s wrong?” he asked gently.

His tone meant that the first few tears escaped. You shook your head vehemently. “No—no—no—”

“—Hazel—”

“—No—”

“Hazel, c’mere…c’mere,” he cooed. Even reluctantly, you went over to him, sitting across from him on the medical table. He grabbed your hands in his. You weren’t expecting that, but you were shaking, and he probably wanted to stop that. “What’s the matter?”

“Your neck, your neck,” you kept repeating through your tears.

“My neck is fine—”

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop doing this fucking shit, Tyson?” you demanded, tears fully streaming down your face now. “Do you think I like seeing your body torn up by a cage? That I like seeing you be dropped on your fucking head? And by him?”

“Haze, I’m sor—”

“Sorry’s not gonna cut it this time!” you exclaimed, pulling your hands away from his. You wiped the tears from your eyes. “You’re Kenny fucking Omega. Your worst match is still ninety five percent better than everybody else’s best matches yet you still think you have to do this—this—this absolutely insane shit. For what? What’s it all for, Tyson? You’re already the best in the world. You’re already a legend.”

“I’m perfecting my craft, Hazel. You know that. We talk about it all the time. This is everything to me. I left my family, my friends – I moved to a foreign country and was fucking alone for years so I could be at the top. Every sacrifice I’ve made has been in the name of pro-wrestling because there can’t be a question about whether or not I’m the best. That’s it, Hazel. That’s it.”

You absorbed his words, each one of them hitting you like a dagger. You sat there silently, looking deep into his eyes. “Is that really all that matters to you? Is that it?”

You could see the look in his eyes. You could see the change in his face. He wanted to say something. He was so close to saying something. He was going to say something. But you couldn’t hear how he would respond to your question – at least not right now. The door handle being jerked loudly from the outside interrupted your conversation, and when you both looked the way of the door, you saw one person walking through it.

Will fucking Ospreay.

Okay, now you were livid.

“Don’t you know how to fucking knock?” you demanded, not caring how rude you sounded. You stood up from where you were sitting across from Tyson.

Will’s face scrunched up. “Who pissed in your cereal?”

“YOU!” you screamed. “You, you fucking idiot!”

“What the hell is wrong with you? I came in to see Tyson, not you—”

“Well you’re going to see me anyway!”

“Will you calm down—”

“—Do not tell me to calm down,” you warned. “What is it? Huh? You want to do the same thing to his neck that your ex-girlfriend did to mine?” Will’s brows furrowed with that rhetorical question. You didn’t even bother to wait for him to retort. You just kept going. “You know what, actually? This is a perfect opportunity. Finally you can see it in the flesh,” you turned around, gathered your hair in your hand, and lifted it up. Your scar was on full display for Will, who diverted his eyes the second he saw it. “Four screws, one rod, and sixteen staples fixed your girlfriend’s mistake. I should have suffocated and died in that ring and you didn’t even have the decency to check in on me. And you want to know why I’m so upset?”

Will clenched his jaw. “Listen, I’m sorry that happened, but—”

“You’re not sorry it happened,” you interrupted him. “You want me to believe you’re sorry when you were joking with your friends in the locker room in Vegas about how it would be much harder now to pick me up and drop me on my head?”

It was the first time during your spat that you saw Will’s face drop – that he looked legitimately taken aback, almost even frightened, by what you said. You had been stepping closer to him with every word, and had backed him up against the wall at this point. “It must be so empowering to be a man…that you can just exist and be you whereas a woman has to apologize for her existence,” you said. “If I ever hear that you’ve talked about me or my body again, I will kill you with my bare hands. I fucking hate your guts.”

“I can feel it,” was all he could reply with.

You took one final step closer, looking at him with all the venom in the world in your eyes. “You can hurt me, Will, and you already have, but if you hurt any one of my friends, it’s over for you, and I mean that entirely. I will fucking end you. That’s a promise.”

He stayed silent then, looking down at you, because there was nothing for him to say. You felt like kneeing him in the groin, but that would have been too much pleasure for one night after what you’d just said to him. It would have been an indulgence. As the words hung in the air, you backed up slightly before walking out of the room. Only then had you noticed the door had been held open by Matt, who was watching you intently as you made your exit.

***

Just knocked on your room door and you didn’t answer. Are you in the shower or something?

I went to the airport early Catching a red eye to Winnipeg

Hazel

Gonna spend some extra time with my mom

I need to talk to you

I know. I’m sorry I blew up at Will in your room. That wasn’t very nice of me and it put you in an awkward position of having to hear me yell seven years of pent up shit at him.

I couldn’t care less about that He deserved it

Am I still allowed to come to the cottage?

Obviously Hazel What makes you think you wouldn’t?

I don’t know The way I spoke to you

***

30th June 2023

all of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation my hands are shaking from holding back from you

You bought Timbits. It was the quintessential Canadian road trip item, and you couldn’t show up empty-handed, even though the drive to the cottage was only just over an hour. With your suitcase loaded in the trunk, you hauled the bag of groceries into the backseat. Tyson always insisted he had food, but protein bars and chocolate milk didn’t count. When you slipped into the front seat, you held them up near your face.

“You wanna make me fat?” he asked as he shut the door behind them. “Seriously, woman. I have a strict diet to maintain this body.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, right. I forgot about that. Your diet of energy drinks and Dave’s Doubles and junior cheeseburger deluxes is sooooo healthy.”

“You know it,” he winked. “What’s with all the food, by the way?”

“You never have food.”

“I have food!”

“I also may have watched The Bear with my mom.”

Tyson giggled. He put the gear in drive and signalled. “Yeah. That’ll do it. What’re you gonna make?”

“Scallopini al funghi,” you said, eyeing him. He stayed silent. “You know, like a chicken marsala.”

“Oh, you mean like from the Cheesecake Factory?”

You chopped him across the chest. As always he was overdramatic in his response, though he knew exactly what he was doing when he brought up the Cheesecake Factory. “You take that back right now, Tyson.”

“Man, you still got it,” he rubbed at his chest where you chopped him. “You been practicing without me or something?”

“Apologize!”

The smirk hadn’t left his face. “I’m sorry I brought up the Cheesecake Factory when you mentioned making a fancy shmancy Italian dish,” irony dripped with every word that came out of his mouth.

“Thank you,” you smiled just as ironically. “How was the rest of the time in Toronto?”

He shrugged. “Just the usual. Lots of media. Nothing out of the ordinary. I was able to go to a few places and get some gaming stuff, which was nice.”

You almost didn’t want to ask, but there was something in your chest that was making you. “How’s your neck?”

“Neck’s fine,” he said, looking over at you quickly. “And I’m not just saying that, okay?”

You nodded in understanding. “I’m excited for this, you know,” you tried to lighten the mood back to where it was. You didn’t want to talk about what had happened just yet. It was the first time seeing Tyson in almost five days and you wanted to see him smile. “I can’t wait to do a 630 splash off the dock. The water will be warm, right?”

“We’ll see,” he said. “I’m excited, too. I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.”

***

Groceries were put away. Scallopini were made. Dishes were put in the dishwasher.

And then…

“BAH GAWD ALMIGHTY!” you could hear Tyson scream in a bang-on Jim Ross impression before you hit the water. The cold temperature hit your skin like icicles, but you knew it would be only momentary. You swam a bit underwater before you emerged back up, hearing Tyson finishing his yelling. “Somebody stop the damn match! That man has a family!”

You watched as he got a running start and completed a flawless tope con hilo from the edge of his dock right into the water. You began to backstroke so you could get further into the lake as you watched him come up for air. “Show off!” you yelled at him, a smile on your face.

He smiled and shook his head. He began swimming over to you. “I do that all the time!” he called out after you. When he caught up to you, easily, he could see the playful scowl on your face.

“Now you’re just bragging,” you said. You turned away from him and looked out onto the lake. Streaks covered the sky, the sunset starting showing its beauty over the lake. Whenever you came here with Tyson – not that it was often, but whenever it did happen – you always managed to get a beautiful sunset. You didn’t know if it was the time of year, or the weather, or some other force of nature you had no power over. Regardless, you were very lucky. You could feel him behind you. “You get the best sunsets out here,” you commented, your voice no longer yelling.

“I know,” he said.

You were both quiet for quite a while, just letting the sound of the waves take precedent. The lake wasn’t particularly lively – at least not at this time of day – but there were some boats still driving around the lake, some families down the coast clearly having their own Canada Day weekend celebrations. You treaded water easily to stay afloat, but the cold water wasn’t getting any warmer. You plugged your nose and dunked your head into the water to see if it would help, but when you came back up, it hadn’t. “Think the water will be warmer tomorrow?”

“Just dunk your head a few more times,” Tyson suggested playfully. You chuckled, but what you weren’t expecting was to feel his giant hand atop your head. “Tyson!” you screamed, because you knew exactly what he was going to do.

It didn’t stop him. He pushed you down and dunked you into the water. He let you come back up quickly, but by the time you caught your breath, he pushed you back down again. It was like he was baptizing you, for heaven’s sake. Under the water, you kicked and punched at him. If you were being honest, you were aiming for his dick, but when you were above water once more catching your breath, he wasn’t grovelling in pain, so it meant you missed.

“You asshole!” you half-yelled, half-giggled. “You are seriously the worst, Tyson Smith.”

“Wow, using my full name?”

“You deserve it.”

“Nobody ever deserves that. You were the one trying to hit me.”

“I was trying to punch your dick.”

“You were what?!” his voice raised three octaves. “Hazel Ila—”

“—do not say my middle name—”

“—Ilaaarrrrria,” Tyson put on an extremely strong and dramatic Italian accent.

Big mistake. You splashed a ton of water into his face, discombobulating him. You couldn’t help but laugh as you kept splashing him, getting closer to him with each one. When you were close enough, and with whatever vision he had left with tons of lake water flooding his eyes, he reached out and grabbed your arm to stop you. He pulled you into his body, holding you against him. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“You really are a jezebel, eh?” he said, using one hand to wipe the water off his eyes.

“I always knew you stealing my passport in Japan would come back to haunt me one day,” you said.

“You’re lucky I’ve never told anyone. Do you have any idea how long and hard Austin has begged?”

You both giggled. Then silence. You were close.

Tyson kissed you. He leaned his head forward and in one swift movement he kissed you. You kissed him back for as long as you could. It had been seven years. Tyson kissed you for as long as he could before he realized what he was doing and pulled away, turning his head to the side. “Fucksorry—sorry—” he began mumbling and apologizing quickly.

“—It’s okay—”

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry Haz—”

“—Tys, it’s alright. It’s okay.”

Your hands were cradling his face by this point, and despite his tone and his apologies you continued to look deep into each other’s eyes. You wondered what was next. You always wondered what was next with Tyson. You could feel lightning running through you, running deep in your damn bones. And when you were sure Tyson would lean in again, a scream across the lake broke the moment. You both whipped your heads to see a boat pass by, teenagers hanging on to a tube with every inch of their life responsible for the screaming. The both of you watched as it sped across the lake, taking your moment with it.

“You’re shivering,” Tyson finally said, filling the silence.

Considering your body was pressed up to his, you weren’t surprised he felt something. But considering what had just happened, you hadn’t even noticed yourself. “Guess I’m not used to the water just yet.”

“Let’s go inside.”

“No no, if you want to stay out we can stay out.”

“No way,” he shook his head. “I’m not gonna make you stay out here shivering. We’ll come back out tomorrow when the sun’s out.”

You made your way inside. Tyson gave you space to change into comfortable clothes, and you went into the master bathroom to do something with your hair. It would inevitably develop a curl, so you decided to brush through it and try to calm your bangs as much as possible before tying it back into a French braid. The electricity that was in your body hadn’t left, and the moment between you and Tyson in the lake kept playing in your mind. His blue eyes. His stupid little giggle. His voice raising three octaves. You tried breathing in and out, tried thinking of something else, but nothing could get rid of the electricity or the thoughts.

When you made your way back out, Tyson was already in the kitchen putting a bag of popcorn into the microwave. When he saw you, he couldn’t help but smile.

You noticed right away. You thought you looked like a witch. “What?” you asked him. “Gosh, I bet my hair looks awful after the lake water,” you grimaced, playing with your bangs and pulling them down to frame your face at least somewhat.

“Nah,” Tyson said softly. “You look beautiful.”

The electricity that never left had just been amped up to a higher voltage. It was the electricity that made you act; the second you were close to him in the kitchen, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed him, a reciprocal from what happened in the lake. He immediately kissed back, his arms wrapping around your waist. His hands went to your ass and he lifted you in his arms and set you down on the countertop, getting in between your legs. But when you tried slipping your tongue in his mouth, he pulled away. As if he were ashamed. “Shitshitshit…” he muttered.

“Ty—”

“—I can’t do this.”

Your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. “Why not?”

He was breathing heavily. He shook his head. “I can’t—I promised myself I couldn’t do anything until we talked about what happened in Toronto, and I’ve already broken that promise.”

Your sanity somewhat recovered. “Can I ask you something first?”

“What’s that?”

“Why don’t you tell me what’s gonna happen in the ring anymore?”

Tyson paused. He knew he’d have to answer for that one day, and it was apparently going to be now. He knew they wouldn’t be able to have this conversation without his answer. “I see how worked up you get, and how much it affects you and gets you worried. I don’t want to put you in that position to, you know, worry about me.”

He was such an idiot. Literally the dumbest boy alive. You brought your hands up, your thumbs rubbing over the stubble of his beard. “You’d think by now you’d realize it’s been having the opposite effect,” you said. “When I told you that it’s getting harder and harder for me to watch your more hardcore stuff I meant it. Leaving me in the dark is just doing more harm. I’d rather know about it. I’d rather be prepared. It would make me less nervous for what’s coming.”

“But I can’t stand to see you cry,” he whispered. “Every time I do I know it’s because of me and I can’t handle it.”

“Please, Ty. Just tell me,” you said, pausing afterwards. “What are you gonna do at Blood and Guts?”

Fuck. You could see Tyson visibly grimace, his eyes fluttering closed. “There’s gonna be thumbtacks,” he began. Your stomach was already in knots. “And uh, there’s this thing…it’s a nail bed—”

“—a nail bed?!—”

“—and I’m going to take a body slam on to it.”

Your tears began almost instantaneously. “Tyson—”

“—I know, I know—”

“Tyson,” you buried your head into the crook of his neck, resting it on his shoulder. “Tyson, please,” you were desperate, desperate for him to listen to you.

“Hazel, Hazel, don’t cry,” he cooed, rubbing your back. “It’s gonna be okay. Look at me, look at me,” he gently pulled away before placing a finger underneath your chin so you could look at him. “You’re breaking my heart by making me see you cry.”

“I hope I am!” you said with more emphasis than normal. “I get that you want to be the master of your craft but this isn’t it. Say you’re injured. Say you can’t do it. Please. I don’t want to see you ripped to shreds.”

“Hazel,” you could hear the heaviness in his voice, “you know as well as I do I can’t be the only guy not taking a spot during the match.”

You knew that, but your judgement was clouded right now. If you had your way, none of the guys would be taking any spots on any damn nail bed, but it wasn’t like you could control these things. You wished you could. You knew you would have to suffer through it and there was nothing you could do about it. You knew it would result in waiting for him to return to gorilla afterwards and having to see him aching. You knew you’d be in the locker room with him as he got patched up, holding everything in (or, maybe this time, you’d let everything out, in front of everyone).

You sighed, feeling Tyson wipe away the tears that had fallen from your eyes with the pads of his thumbs. “You’re so adamant about this. Why?” he asked.

“Because I’m selfish, Tyson. I want you around for a very long time. I’m selfish and I want you with me for a very long time.”

You finally verbalized, praying to God that it would finally get through to him as to why you were the way you were. He looked into your eyes for any hint of uncertainty or ambiguity, but there wasn’t any. “Hazel…”

“Don’t you want the same?”

You watched as he gulped, and you could feel his hands grab yours and hold them gently in his. “You know before Will came in…and you asked me ‘Is that really all that matters to you? Is that it?’ when we were alone in my room?” he asked.

“Yeah…”

“I didn’t get to…what I wanted to say was…” he trailed off. “You matter to me, Hazel, a lot. You’ve mattered to me for years. I just—I should have—back in Portofino, and back in Japan, I should have said something, and I didn’t because I was too focused on wrestling, too focused on being the best. And I thought I was old, and there you were, and you were so young and so good, and I just couldn’t do that to you. But you do matter to me Hazel. You do. More than anyone.”

“Tell me what you want, Ty,” you were desperate to hear the words.

“I want it to be the right time.”

Memories of your time in bed together after the G1 Climax in Tokyo together flooded your mind like a tsunami. You felt a shiver run up your spine, the electricity from deep within you igniting again. You nodded slightly. “It is the right time,” you assured him.

He kissed you again, just like he did in the lake earlier, and you responded right away to the feeling of his lips on yours. Your hands escaped his hold so you could wrap your arms around his broad shoulders; his own arms wrapping around your waist. You sat there on the counter with Tyson between your legs for what felt like hours, the taste of him so intoxicating you were running out of breath. You didn’t know how to describe his kisses any other way except full – full of emotion, of passion, of love, of seven years of waiting and all the pent-up feelings that came with that. So you took every moment and cherished it, burning it into the back of your mind. Every feel of his curls as you ran your hands through them, every feel of the stubble of his beard rubbing against the bare skin of your face and your neck, every feel of his muscles tightening the more you squeezed your legs around his torso to bring his body even closer to yours.

You found your hands creeping underneath his shirt, his skin of his back so delicate underneath your fingertips. He still had some scratches on his back from the cage match with Jon, and the scar from the gash he got at the G1 Climax tournament in 2016.

Tyson pulled away slightly, quickly. “Do you still feel safest with me?” he asked.

You nodded quickly. “Yes, God yes,” you rushed so your lips could be back on his. “Always, Ty.”

His kisses travelled to your neck and clavicle. His hands were squeezing at your thighs. You were sure he was going to leave a mark somewhere, his kisses and bites becoming insatiable. You were sure your breaths and moans were only fuelling him, but you knew you wanted more. The slight impatience got the best of you. You grabbed his hands before widening your legs. “Touch me Ty,” you breathed out, placing his hand on your hot core over your leggings. “I want you to touch me.”

That apparently flipped a switch in him, because he picked you up in one swoop and began carrying you through the cottage until he got to his bedroom, setting you down on the bed. “Touch me, touch me,” you begged absent-mindedly, so desperate to feel him that you pulled off his shirt.

His hand finally went where you wanted it to go. Your hips immediately bucked at his touch, even though it was above fabric. He moved his body to hover over yours as he did so, making sure he could keep eye contact you and watch all your reactions as he did what you wanted him to do. “Does that feel good?”

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“You gonna let me taste you?”

Your breath got caught in your throat. You wanted it, you wanted it so bad, but the possibility of it actually happening made you slip up. He obviously hadn’t done it previously, with the two of you being the way you were getting in the way of it happening in Portofino and Tokyo. “Y-Yeah,” you stuttered out, nodding.

Tyson gave you a few more kisses as his fingers drew circles and ran up and down the fabric over your core before he pushed himself back on his knees. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your tights before pulling them off in one full swoop. Next, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and pulled them off too, exposing your whole bottom half. He could hear your intake of breath, could see how you were watching his every move. “You okay?”

“Mhmm,” you mumbled out. “Just nerves.”

He furrowed his brows. “Why are you nervous?”

“I don’t know. Just am,” you whispered.

“Hey,” he moved over your body to kiss you. “I want to make you feel good, but if you’re nervous, I don’t have to.”

“No no, I really want you to.”

The two of you couldn’t help but giggle at your response, Tyson kissing you again – quick, little kisses on your lips – before pulling away. “Just tell me if you want me to stop, okay? I’ll stop the second you want me to.”

You nodded in agreement. Not that you’d have to tell him to stop. If he was going to go down on you, there was no way in hell you’d ask him to stop. There wasn’t a force on God’s green earth that would make you ask him to stop. You closed your eyes as Tyson began slowly kissing his way down your body, pulling up your shirt to just underneath your breasts so he could kiss your soft tummy, dragging his tongue and lips along your skin before he got below your belly button. His hands went to your thighs, spreading your legs apart for him.

“You’re so beautiful, Hazel.”

A warmth washed over your body at the words. You watched as he got between your legs, bringing his finger up to feel you. You flinched slightly, already so sensitive. You could see a smirk on Tyson’s face as he brought an arm around to keep your keep your hips down.

There was no precursor for Tyson – no tentative licks or little flicks of the tongue first to ease you into it. He just went right in. He’d waited long enough. It made your jaw drop, a mewl leaving your mouth almost instantly. And he didn’t stop from there. He lapped at you like you were his last meal on earth the entire time he was down there, making you bunch the bed sheets into your fists, your knuckles white. As your moans got louder, you couldn’t help but start writhing in bed. But his arm across your hips was limiting your ability to move, which just made it all the better. You reached down to grab on to some of his curls. He looked up at you with his blue eyes and you almost came right then and there.

“You alright?” he asked quickly.

You nodded. “I’m almost embarrassed to tell you how long I’ve dreamt of you doing this to me.”

You watched as the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Am I better or worse than your little fantasies?”

“Better,” you said automatically. “So much better.”

The vibration from his proud little chuckle just made the experience even more pleasurable. After a short while, you could feel a warmth take over your body, and you knew you were close. You verbalized this to Tyson, who kept doing what he was doing and didn’t change his rhythm at all – thank God. Eventually, you felt your orgasm overcome you, your body writhing at the feeling. You tried to stop your legs from coming together and squeezing Tyson’s head between your thighs, but he didn’t seem to mind when you couldn’t control it anymore. He moved in tune with each buck of the hips, each squirm, never taking his mouth off your pussy, even for a second.

When your orgasm subsided, and you tried to catch your breath after all the moaning and calling out of his name, Tyson kissed the inside of your thighs before moving back up your body. You were desperate to kiss him and crashed your lips onto his when he was close enough. “So sweet,” he mumbled against your lips.

“Christ almighty, Ty.”

He continued kissing you, slow and steady and full just like before, moving to pull your top off. You played with the waistband of his sweatpants for a bit, just to tease him, before pushing them and his underwear down all in one go. You could feel how hard he was then, his cock resting between you. “What other little fantasies have you had about me?” he asked.

You were not prepared for that question. And you were not prepared for having to think about answering as he was kissing his way down your chest. “How much time do we have?” you tried to joke.

“Tell me,” his voice was firm, right before he took a nipple into his mouth.

“I’ve dreamt of it all, Ty,” you admitted, closing your eyes to savour the feeling of what he was doing. “I’ve been dreaming about you since I was, like, twenty-one. That’s a lot of time. What about you?”

He stopped what he was doing, coming back up and bringing one of his hands up to move some hair out of your face. “D’you know how many times I’ve replayed Portofino and Tokyo in my head?” he asked.

So you weren’t the only one. What a feeling it was to know. “Yeah?”

“When we fell between the two beds…” he began, his thumb gliding over your lips. “You don’t forget things like that.”

You nodded because you understood. You had never forgotten that moment either, mostly because it was one of the few moments in your life when you felt pure, genuine happiness. “I love you, Tyson.”

He kissed you. “I love you too, Hazel.”

You kissed each other for a while again, your nails digging into the skin on his arms and back. It was only when he was biting down at the skin near your collarbone that he spoke again. “Will you let me make love to you?”

“No.”

Tyson stopped everything. He looked up at you. “No?”

“I know you can go harder than that,” you said. “I haven’t felt you in seven years, Ty. I need it.”

He was like a man possessed after you said those words, his hands and lips all over you with zero abandon. In one swift movement, he grabbed onto your hips and flipped you over on to your stomach. You got excited at the new position. “Is this okay?” he asked.

“You bet,” the excited grin grew on your face as you got on our hand and knees.

You positioned yourself and purposely crashed your ass into his hips, causing a groan to escape him before you could feel his hand between your bodies, stroking himself several times before using his head to tease your pussy. You gripped onto the sheets, arching your back and biting your lip. When he finally pushed inside you, you let out a cry. He felt just as good as you remembered, if not better. “Jesus fuck, Ty,” you couldn’t help but swear as you felt him fully in you. He was giving you a few moments – you knew that – but you were so desperate to feel him pump in and out of you that you almost resented the fact he wasn’t moving yet. “Fuck me, Tyson. It’s been seven years. Let me feel all of you.”

With every thrust, you could feel every inch of your body igniting on fire. His moans and grunts, the way his hands were gripping on to your hips, the movement of your bodies, the song of the sounds you were making – it all came together in the most pleasurable experience. You got louder and louder as he pounded into you just as you wanted. “God Ty, you feel so fucking good,” you said, flipping your hair over your shoulder to be able to look at him.

“Was this one of your little fantasies too?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yes.”

“Tell me.”

You sighed out, unable to form coherent thoughts. You knew this was only the beginning of the night. If you knew Tyson – and you did – he’d be asking you about all of them, and you wouldn’t be able to get out of it. Not that you wanted to. “We were doing exactly this, but…”

“But?”

“But you pulled me up by my hair,” you said.

To your surprise, you could feel him wrap some of your hair around his hand before tugging on it and pulling you up so your back was flush against his chest. He was gentle but still purposeful with his movements, knowing what he was doing to you. “Then what?”

You gulped. He had slowed his pace moving in and out of you, but the way you were positioned already made it feel so good. Your body shivered at what it would feel like when he lost all control. “You…you had one hand here to hold me up,” you said, grabbing on to his left hand and putting it at the base of your neck. “Just don’t squeeze,” you added quickly.

“I won’t,” he gave you a quick kiss on your shoulder. “What else?”

“Your…your other hand was here,” you grabbed on to his right hand, placing it on your pussy so his fingers were directly on your clit. “You were fucking me so good I was seeing stars, Ty. I woke up and started touching myself.”

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “Was there anything else?”

You nodded. You took another deep breath. “You were…you were leaving marks,” you admitted. “All here…and here…” your hand moved over your neck and shoulders on both sides before settling back on top of his hand that was on the base of your neck. “When I woke up, after I touched myself, I went to the mirror to see if the marks were real. I was so sad I didn’t have them.”

Tyson’s lips began kissing at your neck and shoulder. “We’ll have to fix that, won’t we?”

“Yes please.”

Tyson’s lips went back to your neck and you could immediately feel him sucking at the skin there, no doubt leaving one of the marks you so wanted. Without warning, he began pumping harder and quicker too, building up a rhythm that hit the most perfect spot in you and made you cry out in pleasure over and over again. His fingers began massaging your clit, too, and it all truly felt like a dream, a dream you had dreamed for seven, eight, nine – maybe ten years now.

You could feel your throat dry up from how long Tyson had been fucking you. You knew you were close to your second orgasm of the night – but it definitely wouldn’t be the last. “Harder, Ty. I’m so close.”

You cried out when you felt just how hard he started to go, and soon enough, you saw those stars you had once dreamed of. The feeling was so intense, and just like the previous times with Tyson, you could feel the pleasure rush through your body from your head all the way to your toes, and down deep in your bones. He was still holding you up, but you felt yourself collapsing, on account of your legs feeling like complete jelly. But then you heard Tyson moan and felt him come inside you, and another rush coursed through your body – so intense that you had to put your hand over his and get him to stop teasing your clit or else you were sure you would explode and cease to exist. Whatever you had ever dreamed previously wasn’t as good as this – it was impossible to compare.

Your heart was beating out of your chest. You hung on to every last feeling of your orgasm until it passed, slowly. “Shit,” you could hear Tyson curse behind you, his head still on your shoulder. “Holy shit. Holy shit.”

“God, Ty,” you breathed out. His one hand left your neck, and the other hand left your pussy, and when they did, you felt yourself collapse onto the bed. Apparently your legs were still non-functioning. You began to giggle at just how fucked out you were, shifting yourself over to your back.

Tyson smiled too, albeit nervously. “I don’t know if giggling is the best reaction here.”

“It’s a good thing,” you let out as he sunk down beside you. You turned your head to look at him, so he could see it in your eyes. “Trust me.”

Tyson giggled too then. “I’ll take it.”

“You’re gonna have to start getting used to it. Especially tonight,” you said. You rolled yourself on top of his chest, looking down on his face. “I mean, I’ve had so many other little fantasies…”

“Baby, I’m just getting warmed up.”

***

19th July 2023

and if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow and it's alright now

The nail bed wasn’t supposed to fall down Tyson’s back and arms, but of course Tyson couldn’t take the spot lightly. And because Tyson couldn’t ever take a spot lightly, his back was now all scratched, gashes and little holes down his entire left side – the same side you’d had to bandage and put ointment on just seven weeks ago. At least there were no thumbtacks.

Once he had finished pulling said thumbtacks out of Kota’s back, he hauled himself onto a training table and a trainer began assisting him. Cotton swabs, disinfectant – there was even a stitching kit ready to go. Matt was on the phone with Dana, Nick was Facetiming with Ellen, and Kota was in his own world. It was a good a time as ever to stand next to Tyson.

You weren’t crying this time. This was already a huge success.

The trainer had cleaned his hands first, bloody from the wreckage in the ring. You watched as the trainer wiped away the blood on his face, disinfecting the area and making him wince. When the trainer moved to his back, Tyson looked at you.

“You okay?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” you nodded quickly. “I’m not crying, so we’re leaps and bounds better than where we were several weeks ago.”

“Does it look bad?”

“It looks like you got into a fight with a bear at the cottage. But somehow, you won the fight.”

Tyson’s laugh was interrupted by a wince. It was obvious the trainer was disinfecting an area. He grabbed onto your hands, squeezing them at the next sting. You squeezed back. “I love you,” he said quietly.

“I love you too.”

As quick as a lightning flash, he brought your hands up to his lips to kiss them. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Matt watching, his eyes bulging out of their sockets with his eyebrows raised in shock. When he saw you looking at him, he smirked and mouthed only one word to you. Finally.

Everything was okay. Everything was alright.

#kenny omega #aew #kenny omega imagine #kenny omega fic #kenny omega fan fic #kenny omega x reader #aew imagine #aew fic #aew fan fic #kenny omega x oc #kenny omega x ofc #kenny omega x original character #kenny omega x original female character

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magical-wishies · 3 months

Text

To love or not to love, that is the questio-

Ok whoops wrong reference. Happy Valentine's Day everyone! I made a MV of the song "Darling Dance" by Kairiki Bear featuring my favourite little tricksters for the occasion!

I'd rather you go straight to Youtube to watch it because Tumblr always finds a way to cut the quality, lol.

Eng subtitles are available too!

youtube

Here it is! Hope you enjoy my pride and joy. Basically like a hopeful child but in video format. Reblogs are specially appreciated because Youtube sucks at promoting new channels!

This also acts as a behind-the-scenes post, so let's get straight into that, shall we?

MV Project 1 "Darling Dance"

Illustration time: 37 hours

Editing time: Approx. 30-35 hours

Total: 70 hours

*Cough* Holy freakin' moly does making an MV take so long. Before you roll off your bed, I'll say that part of the reason making the art took so long was because I have trouble drawing Marx consistently.

Here's some unused assets! Look at them, they're all salty over not making the cut.

In all seriousness though, a lot of times I don't really see a lot of editors/ MV makers getting appreciation for their efforts. And now that I've personally experienced making an MV for the first time, it's also increased my admiration to the people who dedicate their time to this! All the kudos to them.

Now, I'll go scene by scene then comment along the way! Spoilers ahead!

Verse 1

Pretty good for what it is. In the first image, you see that heart behind Magolor? I discovered the motion of it on complete accident lol. Capcut is hard to figure out..

I also really like the color palette of 2nd image. That art of Marx was the last one I did during production (aka I drew it this morning), and just look at him. He's such a bastard he's the best.

Pre Chorus 1

Mmmm yeah it sure is the pre chorus! I put a bar behind the text in the middle because I didn't want people to stare into their soulless eyes for too long. That probably worked!

1st Chorus

When I first added in the expression change, I fangirled over it a little on the first rewatch. Like, come on! They suddenly look mischievous, and the color change on the background! I know I drew it but still!

For the rest, I experimented a little with all the "Nah"s! I think it ended up well. Most of the lyric editing in this MV is completely original, so I had a couple of things to try out!

Verse 2

This song is horrifically outdated because it says Twitter instead of X!! (/sarcasm)

This scene is my second favourite. I'm really proud of the details on the tabs and the editing at the beginning! Wish I could put more images but the app only allows ten. Bummer.

Pre Chorus 2

I think it's cute, and I used it as my pfp on YouTube! That's about it though.. image limit is killing me I can't put anything here :(

Chorus 2

...Not gonna spoil it! I like how I drew them, but there ain't anything notable. Unless you look at the last image I put right before the bridge. :)

Bridge

This is where my editing comes in freakin' clutch. Ooooooh it's so satisfying to look at. Chef's kiss. Also those Marxs (Marxes?) are really cute.

The second part of the bridge is nice as well! I tried to make the lyrics snap to the rhythm. Glad I added that tv effect in the bg too!

Chorus 3

This scene is my favourite! Wanna know why?

This sequence right here. I think I will etch it into my brain forever... I love me some snappy editing. Like a lot. Like a lot a lot!

The second part of the chorus is like the original song's MV! I loved the hearts popping in and out whoever thought of that is a genius. Putting it into the MV was a good decision!

And that's a wrap! Hope you enjoy the MV as much as I enjoyed making it. And, stay tuned for next time! I have a feeling a certain jester is getting his own solo MV...

Feel free to leave your thoughts either in the Youtube comments section or here. See you around!

#kirby #magolor #marx kirby #marxolor #blood sweat and a lot of tears were put into this..#curse me and my need of adding ribbons and pink to everything (/j)#i really do hope you all will like it though! all the best.#Youtube #flashing #cw flashing

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crescencestudio · 5 months

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๋࣭⭑ Devlog 36 | 11.26.23 ๋࣭⭑

:rises from the dead: I'm.... BAAAAACK!!!!!!

Long time, no talk (kinda) everyone! I hope you've been happy, healthy, and well since we last saw each other and that the wind-down for the year is being kind to you all <3

We have a lot to catch up on, so let's do just that ^^ This is.... so long. I'm really sorry in advance tbh---I thought I hadn't done much because break, but there's quite a bit to show.

It's been a while since a formal update on the routes, so I'll start by telling you all where they officially stand. Before I do, it might be helpful to tell you all how I define percentage completion in my head. Basically, when I finish the draft of a route, I consider it 70% complete. This means I could ship it as is. I wouldn't be happy with the product, but it's playable and makes enough sense---just not the best quality.

When Wudgey finishes their edits, a route is 80%-85% complete, meaning I could ship it as is. I think it'd be pretty good actually and players would be happy. Beyond this point, I am just making fine tuning edits to incorporate more player interaction, polishing the flow of things, etc.

After that, there's basically only Elm and Vi's edits left. When Elm finishes, a route is 95% complete. Again, I think at this point, it's good. Like edits from this point onwards are purely for polishing purpose. After Vi, it's 98% complete. Then the last review comes back to Elm and I for it to be 100% complete. Right now, this is where the routes stand:

Kayn: 98% Complete

Fenir: 95% Complete

Druk: 80% Complete

Etza: 60% Complete (Still working on their draft!)

Do Not ask me about Kuna'a or Aisa LFMASOEIDJ

So most of the routes are actually looking pretty good! They're just getting bounced around to different editors at this point, but the changes made for most of them are basically small. Fenir and Kayn especially could be shipped as is in my eyes if I really wanted to.

Art recently has mostly been focused on commissions. Vui actually is almost done with ALL of the BGs for Alaris!! Isn't that crazy?? In about a year, he was able to create almost 25 BGs with daytime variations!!! He's a phenomenal artist, and I couldn't be happier to be working with him. It's also a bit bittersweet (and alarming??) to know that part of development is already close to ending! q.q

The most exciting art update I have is that we got the GUI assets finished and I've started coding them into the game!! AAAA!! These were the final updated assets I needed, and seeing the fully revamped demo come to life has been so.... Emotional HAHA! It's crazy to see how far Alaris has come from when I was first making it with my little fingies and throwing things together like paper mache. I'm incredibly in love with how all the assets look together, and I couldn't be more grateful for the artists who helped me update the assets!

Updated History Log. Please say you like the dividers between entries---I'm most proud of those

I'm still making my way through coding everything, but here's a couple screen previews so you all can see how things now look in the game!!

First off, is the Dialogue/Choice Screen. You can see that we have a brand new dialogue box (She's Stunning) and Choice Screen! I'm hoping to add some sfx for the choices when you hover over them, and sfx for the new UI in general so there's more user feedback when you click and hover on things. But for now, enjoy this preview of the new dialogue box, choice screen, and the new personality indicators!

Updated Dialogue/Choice Screen: You can't see it as well in GIF format, but the BG also has particles floating around, so there's a tiny bit of animation going on in some of the BGs as well!!

Next, we have the Free Time Screen. I actually posted this on Twitter recently but I don't think I posted it on Tumblr! ISN'T SHE STUNNING... ESPECIALLY WITH THE NEW BGS.... I'm especially happy with the text animations that show up at the bottom when you hover over the different choices! I was inspired by a couple other devs (specifically GUI god, @siyo-koy, and renpy animation master @just-a-carrot) to start incorporating animation style elements into my GUI. And I really like how it adds a little ~something~ to the feel of everything ^^

Updated Free Time Screen: begging someone to say they like the text animation so I feel validated for finangling with it

Finally, for our last preview, we have the Save Screen! While it looks new obviously with the new assets, I also did a lot of backend coding revamping for how it actually functions since my coding experience is a bit better now compared to when I was first fighting for my life figuring out save/load screens. The biggest change for you all is that there are now chapter markers so save slots will tell you what chapter that save file is from! And instead of screenshots, it's now a custom icon inside that shows the chapter card. I think it'll make the save screen look more cohesive now and hopefully more intuitive as well!!

Updated Save Screen: With a sprinkle of updated Chapter Card screen preview

That was long. Are any of us surprised, considering I had two months' worth of devlogs piled inside of me, begging to burst from the seams?

Anyways. Only two miscellaneous updates. One is that all soundtracks have been completed for Alaris! Peter finished the last of them recently, and they're all beautiful!!! For ppl who love piano soundtracks... :holds hand in piano lover solidarity:

Other update is that I finally fixed that godforsaken sprite bug that was associated with the energy vision feature from the demo!!! FINALLY!!! AFTER.... SO LONG. Extremely huge thanks to @robobarbie for taking time out of their day to do that; everyone please say thank you!!!!! OGs know how long that bug was bothering me!!!! Robo also gave me a pretty new rain code, so I'm showing you how both look in the new demo so you can appreciate them with me!!

Last miscellaneous update is more on a.... logistical development level?? Basically, now that I have new GUI assets to code, that means I can get a beta build of the routes currently written out. I was feeling really overwhelmed by that idea because most of this year has been focused on writing and making assets, not really coding. Knowing that I can Code and get Playable Builds out to people was stressful because I have to divvy up my time a bit more.

After an extremely insightful talk with beloved and admired Esh of @steamberrystudio I decided I'm probably going to be shifting how development goes from here on out. Instead of focusing head low on getting as many words written for the remaining routes everyday, I'm going to be making smaller but consistent progress and spend the rest of my time coding so that I can have more of a continuous cycle of production going on (e.g., writing a bit, making playable builds, gathering playtester feedback, etc. instead of doing each stage in blocked, sequential order).

I'm mainly telling you all this because it means writing updates will probably seem slower from this point on, but I think production overall will be more efficient because of it! This is also exciting news for playtesters and/or early access backers/patrons because it means you'll have playable content in the near future for content outside of just the demo :')

have u all heard of wudgeous of herotome. of course u have. they r all i talk about at this point

No market research because I've actually been addicted to BG3 LFMAOLSDJF. Actually, I'm taking some inspiration from it for the personality mechanic but eh.

On a more important note, @herotome demo is coming out December 2nd!!!! PLAY IT WITH ME. Wudgey is my editor, so you might think I'm biased but I'M NOT!!! I WAS A FAN OF HEROTOME BEFORE WUDGEY EVEN WORKED W ME!!! They have an exception eye for detail and player experience, and they are actually one of the devs that inspired me to even get into game development.

I just know the demo is going to blow everyone's socks off. OG Herotome prologue build fans know exactly what I'm talking about. Please mark December 2nd on your calendar---you will not regret it.

This was so unbelievably long, but I hope it's appreciated since there was no real devlog update for a hot minute. As always, Thank you all for your patience and continued support. With the year ending soon, I'm getting wrapped up in my feels in usual Crescence fashion. I am a Cancer so no one is surprised.

Next month will probably be more of an end-of-year devlog rather than the usual format. I know the devlogs of late have been all over the place, but once we get into the new year, it will be back to business as usual! Hope you all have a wonderful end to your year; I'll talk to you soon! <3

#alaris #devlog #bitches don't stop talking #aka me i'm bitches #also why did i shout out so many devs in this devlog #usually its like only one #that one being seyl of ravenstar games who i share a codependent relationship with #SODIFJ

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desceros · 1 month

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@fidgetyfawn hi hi so i thought i'd go and give you a very brief tumblr beginner/early intermediate guide since i've also seen some other people around here that may find it useful!!

i'm going to assume you know little to nothing, and this post is good both for people who are just looking to find cool art/fic/whatever, or for people looking to post their own art/fic.

click on the readmore here and i'll give you a bit of a walkthrough for how to get things set up and how to start interacting with people, as well as some basic etiquette!

THIS IS A VERY LONG POST!! pro tip: if you're on desktop, you can use the J key to skip down a post and the K key to skip up. youre welcome

so first things first, when you log in, the first thing you'll see is your dashboard. this is where posts from people you follow will appear.

dashboard management

i can't remember if this is the default or not, but i highly recommend you change your dashboard (almost typed dachshund ATD counter: 1) to chronological order. you can do this by clicking settings on the left, then dashboard (ATD counter: 2) on the right.

personally, i uncheck the 'shorten longer posts' option since it cuts things too short, and further down you'll see the option that says 'best stuff first'. turn that shit off. you'll miss a lot of posts from people you follow if you have it on. actually, everything on that preferences section can get turned off. tumblr is designed to be more curated, and those are all options the staff added trying to emulate things like twitter. they suck. turn em off.

how to find blogs to follow

so now that you've got your dash set up, it's time to get some shit showing up!! you've already started off right by following me, so i can see you know how to do that much. but in case this post breaches containment, i'll put some tips here for people:

if you see people out in the wild that you like who link their tumblrs, go check em out. see if you like what they post. if so, you can follow them. this will put their posts on your dashboard, and they'll get a notification that you've followed if they have those turned on.

once you find someone you like, check out who they're reblogging from. go check out those blogs. see who they're reblogging. go check out those blogs. search for things that you're interested in, and click on the people posting into those tags (more on this later). eventually, you'll be following lots of people who post things that you like, and now you can start really curating your own posting experience.

some people will have a DNI (do not interact) linked somewhere. if they do, it's considered good etiquette to give it a look and make sure you're not gonna step on toes. some people will have a "blank blogs"/"ageless blogs dni" on theirs, or say they'll block you if you're a blank/ageless blog. this is because a lot of bots will have a blank tumblr, so it's a good idea to make some text posts or something saying IM REAL I PROMISE and you can have "i'm an adult"/"18+"/"(your actual age if you're comfortable with it)"/"(an approximation of your age, e.g. 20s, if you arent)" before you get too in the weeds on following people.

sidebar, once you're blocked, it's a bit tacky to go find that person on other platforms or go on anon and ask why they blocked you. just move on and don't take it personally.

how to post shit

these are the buttons that let you post new shit. when you make a new post, you'll get the post editor popping up. it's actually pretty cool, hot take, but here are the important things to know:

put your post in the spot. i'm using the text post one here since i post either fanfic or nattering. you can add links to stuff, change formatting, font colors, all that. i'm not gonna get too into the weeds on that since this is a beginner guide, but there are other guides on how to do it slash you should fuck around with it a bit yourself. i will, however, show you the details of the "post now" button

post now: posts now

add to queue: tumblr has a function where it will automatically post things in your queue. you can find it in your blog detail page, which you get to via account>[click on your blog name]>queue on the right. you can change how many per day go there. a lot of people will have a cutesy queue tag (eg "i love queue" or something punny like that) so your followers will know if it's a queued post or a regular one. this is cute, but not necessary

save as draft: if you want to keep a post for later but not publish it yet, you can save it as a draft. it's in the same place as your queue, but these will stay there until you post it yourself. i do this a lot for posts that i want to keep for their information, or to save art to post for when i'm trying to break up an ocean of asks. very cool feature

post privately: this will make it so that only you can see the post. just a warning though that anything that goes online will be seen by Someone, so i wouldn't put like. deep dark secrets or your ssn here or something. (<- does not use this feature at all hahaha)

schedule: you can have the post drop on a certain time on a certain day. fun for flashbanging yourself later, or reminding yourself of something, etc.

if you put something in your post, it will be "searchable" on tumblr. that means if you have a post saying "i hate tmnt rise" then people who look for "tmnt rise" may be able to see your post. just a heads up. you can make your blog not show up in search results, but if you're someone looking to be found (e.g. a writer trying to post, or someone trying to make friends, etc.) i dont recommend you turn that on. just be aware that if you post things talking shit, you might get some people trolling you. just block them and move on.

if you click into a post, this thing will pop up. this will allow you to add a picture, a gif, a link, an audio file, a video file, a poll, or a readmore break (shortens the post like i did with this one to make it less intrusive on someone's dashboard).

etiquette note: if your post is going to be on the long side, Especially if it's a text post (for me this is around the 650-700 word mark), put it under a readmore. it's really annoying on mobile to scroll through a bunch of text. also, if you're going to post nsfw (which i will remind you, WILL show up in the public tags!) either have some kind of nsfw tag, put it under a readmore, or both.

tags

on the bottom of your post, you will see the option to tag your posts. some people don't use the tag function at all. i use it religiously. tagging serves two functions: organizing your blog, and sharing your content.

on your blog, you can search posts by tag. this is the best way to search your tumblr, which has a notoriously terrible search function. if you ever want to confidently be able to find things again, tag them something you'll remember. i have a list here of tags i use as an example for some ideas.

secondly, tumblr has a function where you can see what everyone is posting under a certain phrase. you can find this by typing a phrase into the "search tumblr" bar in the upper right. this will largely be posts that are tagged by that thing, or have tags that contain that phrase. (e.g. if you search "tmnt" you will find posts that are tagged "tmnt" but also some that are tagged "donnie tmnt"). this is how you can find new people to find, and fun art to reblog, etc. search for things you're interested in, then go through the tag and find who looks cool.

you'll also find that some people (<- me) will "talk" in the tags. the op of the post Can See These!!! so don't say anything that's rude or that you wouldn't want them to see!!! but this is a holdover of tumblr etiquette from years ago when it was considered rude to reblog art, let's say, and put your thoughts about something in the reblog as its own reblog. the old school of thought is that it disrupted the "aesthetic" of the post, so you'll see a lot of people put their commentary in the tags instead. it's not as obtrusive, but everyone can still see it. there's a joke that your tags will "pass peer review" if someone screenshots them and puts them on the post while reblogging, but that's usually something you'll see on particularly funny posts or creative posts or that sort of thing.

reblogs vs reposts

you will come across people who have "no reposts" or "don't repost my art" in their description or on their blog or on their art. there's a lot of confusion for new tumblr people on what that means.

reposting means that you are downloading the art/fic/whatever, then using the upload function and creating your own original post.

reblogging is when you take the post that the person made, and clicking on the reblog button (third one here):

reposting things is BAD because it does not give the op original credit and it makes it look like you created the thing. reblogging is GOOD because it shares art/writing/etc with the people who are following you, and encourages community. the double arrows are what keep community alive!!

on that note, likes are functionally useless. that little heart there does nothing for artist engagement. while there is a tumblr algorithm, it's terrible, doesn't really work, and! we've already turned ours off in the beginning, remember? most people will have done this. liking a post doesn't put it on your blog, it doesn't make it so that you can find it later, it doesn't boost the op's engagement. likes do the two things and only the two things:

op knows you saw the post

tumblr puts it into one giant unsearchable pile of things you've liked

that's it! so if you like a post, consider reblogging it. add that fun commentary in the tags we talked about! this is a really good way to make someone's day.

etiquette note; you'll sometimes see people who say "no spam likes". this means that they don't like it when people go through their blog and just hit like on the latest posts over and over and over. it clogs up the notification feed and makes it harder to see the engagement that actually Means something, e.g. reblogs, mentions, replies, etc. i personally don't have an issue with it since you can filter those out if you're looking for something, but if someone asks you not to do it, don't do it. also, if you do it and suddenly find that you're blocked even if you've not done anything wrong, that might be why. some people just don't like it shrug.

how to make friends

tumblr is a social media site, and while it's possible to have a great time on your own just reblogging pretty art and great fics onto your page, a lot of the joy comes from participating in community.

there's a good post here i reblogged the other day for some details, but here are some basic things for a beginner to know:

you can send messages to blogs you like called "asks". you'll find the link to it on the left of the follow button on someone's blog, and a lot of people will have changed the wording. for example, mine is called "request a song." you can send people messages, anonymously if you wish, and tumblr will let you know when the person has answered your message. they may do so publicly (which i always do!), so make sure not to put anything there you wouldn't be okay with all of their followers seeing. don't be rude. but it's the best way to start talking with someone. and most people are very excited to get messages like this!! so don't be intimidated!!

there is a dm system. most people aren't going to have it available except to people they're following, and it has a bit more of an intimate feel than an ask. personally, i only use this function for my mutuals (people whom i follow who are also following me), and i'd be willing to bet that's a common mood about it.

replies: just like you did with the post you started, you can reply to text posts. the op will see it, and you can start talking about a post without having it appear on your blog. it's a nice way to communicate without clogging up your dash/blog, and you did so perfectly!

reblogs: we already went over this, but you can also just reblog posts. the person from whom you reblog will see what you say, and op will see what you say. etiquette here is not to reblog posts if someone asks you not to, and to tag longer posts as "long post" so people on mobile who have that limited don't have to scroll as long

talk to people! be friendly! ask them about their day. if it's an author, tell them your favorite part of their last fic. ask what the inspiration was for this part or that part. i get people sending me songs in that remind them of character moments, and that's fun! draw art of your favorite scene, then tag the author in it! (to tag people, use the @ symbol, then type their username, e.g. @desceros tags me).

find people that are posting the things that you like, follow them, reblog from them, send in asks off anon when they reblog little games asking for them, just. you know. be social. that post i linked has some good ideas if you need help.

if you're coming from ao3, go to the author's profile page. a lot of us have our tumblrs linked there. go to their tumblr. follow them. send in asks about their fics. you'll often find fun fanart, or wips, or that kind of thing!

anyway i think that answered all the questions you had, but you can ask if there's something specific you were looking for i didn't touch. hope this helps!! C:

#text post #i... think that covers most of the basics. fwahh!! anyway welcome to tumblr and i hope you enjoy it! :D

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grisler · 9 months

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alright roleplayers, im not even going to lie — not being able to format posts in the true Vintage Tumblr Style™ has actually pissed me off so bad... anyways, if you want to bring back the old text, this is how you do it.

just for transparency’s sake, this will not force tiny text on people who do not follow the tutorial, so its a win win for us who like that ye olde ant sized tumblr text and those that don’t. it also works with the post editor!

—— i am not a pro coder or teacher, therefore my terminology may be off. i tried my best to illustrate & visualize everything, though !!

1. what you’re going to want to do is download the stylus extension from the extension store ( mozilla & chrome ), not stylish. ( stylish steals browser history and shit. stylish bad. )

2. when the extension is installed, select “find styles” from the extension menu, and look up “no more small text”. the correct style should have a pic of jenna marbles on the dash as the thumbnail lol.

3. alright ! we got the ‘no more small text’ extension. it sounds counter productive, but it’s not ! it edits the text function, so now all we have to do is edit the font size it changes the tag to. to do this, click the little pen next to the name of the extension.

4. this should open a new page with a text editor containing the code for the script. pay no attention to any code except the chunk shown below. see that circled green text ? that's what we're changing.

i haven't messed with em as unit for font size (i'm used to px), but i've found that 0.82em is a pretty good size to use for smaller text, however, you can mess around with the font size to make it as big or little as you want. after adjusting, your code should look like this:

5. after this, you're pretty much done! this will basically change the font size of anything under the functions on your dashboard to your desired size. all you have to do is hit the save button to the left of the style editor page. maybe even rename it to small text or something so it's not confusing in the future.

but.... if you want to be greedy and bring back that sweet text from before, like, 2020, you're gonna add a little vertical-align attribute.

6. DIRECTLY after the font size styling, and BEFORE the closing } we're gonna add this: vertical-align: 3px!important; if pasted correctly, your code should now look like this:

the vertical-align tag will add an offset to the text under the function, simulating the look of the old tag combination. we can't actually bring back real text because, as far as i'm aware, tumblr blocks it. just like with the prior step, mess around with the amount of vertical align to your hearts content ! after this you're finished, like actually finished.

#okay to rb #resources.#tutorials.#idk what else to tag.... just felt the need to spread the word #indie rp #rp help #rp formatting

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riding-with-the-wild-hunt · 15 days

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your tolkien edits are always so lovely, do you have graphics editors that inspire you?

hey anon.. would you perhaps want to join me in a small and tumbledown cliff-side castle by the shining sea within whose shelter we can spend the rest of our days. circle yes or no

anyways!! tumblr is the school of athens and i am but a humble student sitting at the feet of greater talents, so here are a few of my biggest editing inspirations for your happy perusal:

@himemiyaaah / @tarninausta - probably my original editing inspiration back when i took my first waddling steps into making graphics myself! rosie just has such an amazing command of color, style, balance, etc.. her edits are so beautiful and harmonious, and i love her expressive use of text.

@miriel-therindes - also someone i discovered early on! i swear there isn't a form lyndeth hasn't tried her hand at and succeeded with in high style. her incredible sense and editing of colors and creative typography are just !!!

@arwenindomiel /@edwinas - the enormously talented mastermind behind tolkien south asian week! her edits are striking and have a real cinematic feel with bold, gorgeously cohesive color palettes (her dramatic shadows are spectacular) as well as innovative use of text and other graphic elements that just tie it all together each time.

@emyn-arnens - save me atlas of arda series atlas of arda series save me !! whenever i need inspiration on how to make dynamic edits that don't include people, i go to this master of her craft. her colors mesh so well together, her formatting is creative and refreshing, and her photo choices are on point. whence does her power flow.

@aredhels - so elegant and sleek! sari is so good at using all the parts of her edits to evoke the desired mood--for lack of a better word, everything she makes is just so aesthetic. i love her understated, low-text style and how she can make incredibly compelling edits just with her impeccable image choices and color editing. and besides all that she singlehandedly gave me the confidence to experiment with the eight-image picspam format yayay

@tilions - legendary user of non-text elements! i honestly have no idea how emily comes out with some of the image layering that they do. her edits feel professional-grade (hoping tentatively that this is a comparison that makes sense but who knows). she makes such bold color choices! it's easy to be scared off by bright palettes but apparently emily is immune to aesthetic fear. she also concocts these amazing silhouette edits that are like those 70s nasa posters and it's. so cool.

@russingon - i want to imbibe mayim's delicious color palettes into myself for real. something about them is so distinctive and pleasing! how much punch he can pack into a two-image edit never ceases to astound. i'm especially fond of their family/house edits (i love seeing their great faceclaim choices all together)!

@brighter-arda - toi is so endlessly committed to making the tolkien fandom a more diverse, inclusive, and accepting space, and i really admire all the work she puts in to uplift other creators. her own edits have really interesting and creative themes and formatting, and it's wonderful how she always incorporates meaningful elements of the character's culture.

@someoneinthestars - their use of darker colors is so evocative, and i love their latine tolkien series! they often align text to elements within the image, which takes such precision (i've only done it once, i think!), but when they do it it always comes out gorgeously.. awuagh.

@outofangband - the attention and research nelyo puts into their environmental edits could power three mid-size cities and i have nothing but respect for them and their dedication. honestly i think they know more about the ecology of middle earth than tolkien himself did when he made it (and he also never made edits about it, so another point to nelyo)!

anyways, this is only a cross-section of the plethora of amazing and talented people i get to share this community with, but i hope it was what you were looking for anon! many many thanks for giving me the ever-welcomed opportunity to kvell a little over some of my favorite creators, and as always, many many thanks to those creators themselves for sharing their spectacular works ♡♡♡

#i hope you have a safe + happy day anon :]#call and response #the professor's world #btw if any of you would like to not be tagged here just let me know and it shall be banished #edits with the wild hunt #brought to you by me

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slippinmickeys · 2 months

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Hello I was wondering if you can give me advice to publish a Fic .. I am new on this and and I have no idea how this works or if I need to tag somebody... I also heard about beta's .. what Is a beta? Any feedback you can provide It will be much appreciated .. thanks!!

Hi! How cool that you have a story you’re willing to share. I’m so happy for you and those of us who’ll get to read it.

Before you publish, let me first answer your question about betas. A beta reader is kind of like an editor; it’s a person who reads your work before you publish it. Most betas will catch typos and grammar issues, as well as plot inconsistencies, etc. A good beta will point out instances when your characters are acting out of character, or when you’re not following canon (if you’re trying to follow canon). But fear not! Betas also highlight stuff they love and make you feel very warm and gooey. (There are also plenty of betas who will give you a read and just give you encouragement. When I beta — something I sadly rarely have the bandwidth for anymore — I tend to ask what kind of read the writer is looking for; deep dive pick-it-apart beta? feel good beta? typos only beta?) Beta readers are, in my opinion, absolutely essential to putting out good fic. And most of them are absolutely dear people who are only pointing out your mistakes because they want you to put out the best work possible. Don’t take anything personally. (A thick skin isn’t necessary, but helps.) If you don’t have a beta or two, get one. And if you don’t know where to find one and would like help, feel free to send me another ask, and I’ll reblog to help put out the call.

Now, onto your other question. How does publishing a fic work? I can only speak to how I do it, but goes a bit like this:

Once my story is finished and beta-ed, the first thing I do is publish it to AO3. (If you don’t have an account, get one! This process may take a few days.) I assume you read fic, so you’re familiar with tags, ratings, etc. Next is formatting. Use Rich Text rather than HTML (there are buttons at the top right). If you’re publishing from a Google doc, you will annoyingly need to remove extra spaces. You’ll get a feel for it.

Once it’s on AO3, I copy and paste from there to Tumblr. My advice is to use the desktop version rather than mobile—you won’t have to reformat. I don’t usually tag anyone, but blogs like @today-in-fic are great to get more eyes on your work.

From there I also post a link to the story on AO3 to Twitter, but that’s only because I have a fic/fandom specific account.

Let’s see, what else. I hope that was helpful. If you feel like I skipped steps or you’re more confused than when you started, I’m happy to clarify. Good luck and happy writing!

#fanfic #asks

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cheri-sources · 1 year

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HELPFUL TIPS ✨ feat. beta editor

we've all had the issue of t/umblr EATING replies after spending several minutes ( or several hours ) on a bomb-ass reply. fully aware it was never as good as the first time you wrote it. this can be annoying && in most cases disheartening-- that same reply can sit in your drafts collecting dust just waiting for that same motivation to strike once again. believe me WE HAVE ALL BEEN THERE !!

now this little helpful morsel was recommended to me several times, by many talented people here in the community. ( they're ahead of the game as you can see 😎😎😎 ) and it's very easy to use. you can find this amazing resource here, and for those new to it; don't worry babe !! here's a quick && easy tutorial on how to use it 🖤

once you've written your reply ( typically just the words and the fancy text formatting, ie: custom colours, bold, underlined, italics, small font, ect ) you'll head over to the TOP LEFT of the editor && turn it into a source code.

copy the source code and input the code into your draft as an HTML format ( using the TOP RIGHT gear icon on the tumblr page of your reply ) thankfully if you're using beta it will automatically save your reply every few minutes as your writing it just incase the unspeakable happens, ie: a computer reset, a four legged furry heathen trampling across your keyboard, a forsaken coffee spill, and who can forget, WHEN TUMBLR JUST DECIDES TO EAT IT.

unlike old t/umblr, you can switch back and fourth between HTML && Rich Text as much as you want without fear of losing any progress !! so going back and adjusting small text or adding media such as images or icons is easy breezy && you can do it to your hearts content.

be sure to check / proof read your responses to ensure it looks the way you want it to before saving it as a draft / posting it / or throwing into queue. at this stages you can add your images to the t/umblr post editor itself without breaking all the hard work you just made.

AND YOU ARE DONE !! it really is that easy. part of what makes this community so great is the simple fact of sharing resources && refusing to gatekeep information. genuinely, thank you to those of you who willingly offered up help when it was asked. YOU are part of what makes this place better.

#//this is a repost from my main blog so please excuse the messiness #【 ⎯⎯⎯ 🍒 ; 】 tutorials.#【 ⎯⎯⎯ 🍒 ; 】 beta editor tips.#rp resources

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teletogami · 1 year

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komaeda/reader week, day 6: arts and crafts

words: 1594

synopsis: both you and nagito take designing your house in The Sims very seriously.

contains: gender-neutral reader, fluff, childhood best friends (probably young teens here), platonic or romantic it doesn’t matter you guys are together forever, yes the sims is an art and craft

a/n: this is my first time posting any fic on tumblr bc of eli’s komaeda/reader week :)) forgive me if the formatting is bad, I’m unfamiliar with the text editor.

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You yawned as you returned to your bedroom, closing the door behind you after you slipped inside. It was warmer and darker than the rest of the house; a cave of your own making, with a space heater running close to your bed, and the ceiling lights turned off in favour of some dainty string lights haphazardly pinned to the walls. You didn’t mind the ceiling lights, but Nagito despised them for reasons you didn’t understand, preferring something more soft and ambient instead. You were fine to concede. If it made your room feel more like home to him, you’d do anything.

Poking around the corner of your doorway, you spotted him in the centre of your bed. He was in the same position as you’d left him in; hunched forward with the hood of his sweater pulled over a head of messy white hair, one of his knees pulled up to his chest while the other leg stretched out in front of him. He was illuminated by the bright light from your laptop, which was resting on the bed as close to him as he could get it. You could see just how focused he appeared to be in that glow, with his light green eyes narrowed as they flicked around from corner to corner of the screen, a bit of his tongue sticking out as he messed with the trackpad carefully. You recognized the tongue thing well. He was definitely trying to move some furniture or something.

“You better not be screwing with my sitting room.” You threatened sarcastically, shoving your hands in the pockets of your own hoodie as you began to pad over to him. He raised his head, seemingly a bit caught off guard by your reappearance. When his eyes met yours in the dimly lit room though, he smiled so widely that the corners of his eyes began to crinkle in the way they always did. It made the room feel even warmer somehow. Perhaps that was a result of your heart rate picking up in your chest. He was so cute.

“I wouldn’t dare.” He assured you happily, straightening up a bit and placing his hand on his lower back while he stretched it out. Sitting hunched over like this was not good for either of you, and yet you’d been building this house for hours now. It didn’t matter. You were having too much fun to care. “I’m just trying to figure out how I want this chair in my little reading nook.”

You reached the bed and slid on top of the comforter next to him, laying your legs across his own as you leaned forward to get a look at the screen. Nagito had made a small room adjacent to the sitting room, not much larger than an average walk-in closet, walls lined with bookshelves. The wallpaper was an olive green colour, something that felt cosy, and the armchair he was currently messing with was plush and coloured deep brown, a few throw pillows added on top of it.

“You know, we can make anything in this game.” You noted, leaning your head down on his shoulder as you watched him move the mouse around the chair. “You could give yourself a whole library if you wanted to.”

“Mm. But I don’t want a library.” His voice sounded somewhat melodic. You wanted to wrap yourself in it. Instead, you settled for his free arm, which wrapped itself around your shoulders and gave you a squeeze. “I want a nook. Warm, little. Like a cocoon but it’s a room. And it smells like books!” The excitement in his tone gave it a unique lilt, as if he was dancing you across the words, through the vivid picture.

The Sims didn’t do it justice, but you could see this nook, and him in it. Blanket strewn over his lanky legs as they were strewn across the side of the armchair, awkwardly holding the book above him. When he really got into a story, he usually never sat up properly. It suited him somehow, as if such a thing was more of a natural state for limbs that seemed almost liquid at times.

“What if I want to join you in this hypothetical nook? Or is it off limits?” Ah, did you sound too dreamy when you said that? The two of you had been friends for years. Your lives were intertwined with one another in such a way that never allowed for them to separate. The idea that you’d live together when you were old enough wasn’t a shocking one; you would always be together, even when you were all grown up. That was the way it was, and the way it would always be. Still, whether or not that would remain platonic was something you frequently questioned. A part of you wished for it to change. A part of you was scared of anything new. But in the end, you knew you didn’t have to worry, or rush. For now, you could just design your dream house in the Sims for an embarrassingly long time, and not worry about such things. You were together. That was what mattered.

“It’s our house. Nothing would be off limits to you.” He replied with a sage smile.

“But it’s quite small. I wouldn’t fit.” You posited teasingly, reaching up to give his hand a squeeze.

“You would if we snuggled.” He began to chuckle, and you watched the mouse freeze on the right side of the screen as he looked away to nuzzle his nose against your cheek. You began to giggle almost reluctantly, shoving at his chest to push him off of you. Your cheeks were too warm for this. You wondered if he’d noticed.

“Gross.” You muttered, though you didn’t mean it. When you glanced back at him, the look on his face told you that he was well aware you didn’t mean it either. Oh well.

“I mean, it would be better if I could fit a bigger armchair in here.” He switched the subject, perhaps for your sake. It didn’t change the fact that you were practically snuggling right now, though it did make your blush fade. You leaned your head back against his shoulder again as he clicked on the object, attempting to turn it around. The box around it turned red when he twisted it into the perfect orientation, and you could hear him swear a bit under his breath. “But I can’t. And the controls are so limiting!”

You snorted a bit at his frustration. It was adorable. “Just leave it as it was before. When we make the real nook, I’m sure we’ll be able to squish it in there.”

“We set out this morning to make this thing perfect!” He sounded like he was scolding you for your suggestion, but you could tell he was mostly trying to tease you. This whole thing had been your idea, after all, even if he was the one taking it more seriously by now.

“And now it’s almost 7pm, Nagito. We have to make compromises.” You drawled sarcastically, lolling your head backward onto his shoulder to see his expression as he stared down at the screen again. You could see him attempting to sneak a glance at you in a way that he thought you wouldn’t notice. You did. It made you smile.

“Says the person who spent who knows how long on the paint colour for the sitting room.” He retorted with a grin, biting it back a bit on his bottom lip. Cute.

“It needed to be the right shade of maroon.” You defended yourself, beginning to laugh.

You thought you saw him smile wider at the sound.

“Guys!” Your father’s voice coming from down the hall made you sit up in place, steading yourself with a hand on Nagito’s knee. “Dinner!”

You looked back at Nagito, and he looked down at you, appearing apprehensive. You were already rolling your eyes as you slid off of him and the bed, hand slipping down to his wrist to pull him along with you. “Ah! Just five more minutes. I’m almost done with this room.” He whined, resisting your hold as his hands grasped at the sides of your laptop.

“We can pick out lighting fixtures ‘til the sun comes up, Nagito. But right now we need to eat!” You protested, giving him a good yank. He let out a short squeal, but instead of falling as he did on many occasions, your arms scooped him up and set him straight on his feet. After years of being his friend, you were very used to the act of Komaeda-catching.

He grumbled a little bit as you pushed him forwards, but, as with most things, he went along with it because you were you. You reached ahead to open the door for him, and watched with a stupid grin on your face as he quickly began to squint into the hallway light, having been holed away in the darkness of your room for far too long. “Too bright.” He groaned.

“You can do it, my little hermit crab.” You teased, rubbing his shoulder as the two of you began to walk towards the kitchen, your matching fuzzy socks barely making any noise at all during the journey.

The house wasn’t completed until the early hours of the morning, and was quickly destroyed by a house fire caused by Nagito’s sim attempting to cook a grilled cheese.

Thankfully, you had a save file.

#komaedareaderweek2022 #nagito komaeda #nagito komaeda x reader #komaeda x reader #nagito x reader

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lizzieonka · 1 year

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An Honest Guide to Tumblr for Twitter Refugees (Part 2)

Part 0: What the heck is Tumblr and is it right for me?

Part 1: Configuring settings + customizing your Tumblr

Covered in Part 2:

Posting basics (introducing the editor, different post types)

Best practices (stating trigger warnings, adding image IDs, indicating sources, etc)

Post controls (who can reblog and reply to your posts)

Note: Like Part 1, I suggest you follow this guide while on desktop Tumblr. This post also contains lots of images without ID. Such images though are basically just screenshots of what's already described in the post body.

Posting Basics

I was gonna talk about curating your dashboard first, but considering how Tumblr veterans would think you’re a bot and just block you if they see your blog is empty, I think it’s best if we cover posting first.

Tumblr Editor

Before everything else, let’s get to know the editor.

On your desktop dashboard, you get to pick from different post types: Text, Photo, Quote, Link, Chat, Audio, and Video.

It should be pretty self-explanatory what they do, but you know what? THESE DON’T MATTER.

I talked about this briefly in Part 1, so lemme just copy-paste it here:

Although Tumblr is still advocating its different posts types (text, image, audio, video, etc.), they’ve actually been rolling out changes to their editor where only a single post type is used (text) and you just add media to it. This is called NPF (Neue Post Format). On desktop, you can turn off the beta editor and thereby turn off NPF. However, on mobile web and on the app, posts can only be made in NPF.

To put it simply: There is no difference at all between the different post types. The only difference is that when you click on a post type (for example, photo), the first block* on your post will be related to that post type (e.g. a photo block).

* If you’ve used WordPress before, then this should be familiar. But if not, then here’s a quick explanation: A block is basically a component used to create a post (text block for text, image block for images, video block for videos, etc.)

More technical info about the block editor and how to use it can be found here.

So my point is, don’t sweat too much over the different post types.

---

You can also write posts in HTML / Markdown!

If the default rich text editor is not enough for you, then get more power by using the HTML editor. It doesn't support all HTML elements, but at least you can do fancy stuff like adding some gradient text:

gradients are cool

To switch editors, click on the gear icon at the top of the editor, and in the Text Editor dropdown, choose between Rich Text, HTML, or Markdown. If you’re curious about Markdown, learn more about it here.

---

Some neat stuff you have to know about posting on Tumblr:

A. YOU CAN EDIT POSTS!!!

We’ve had an edit button here for years, and best of all, it’s free! However, for posts of yours that have been reblogged, even if you do edit the original post, the edits won’t be reflected on the reblogged version. More about reblogging in Part 4 of this guide.

B. You can post loooong articles here

Like Twitter, Tumblr also has a character limit for text. However, this limit is on a per-paragraph basis and not for your entire post. And it’s such a generous limit that I’ve never once hit it. I don’t even have to keep tabs on how many characters I’ve made. You can find a list of all the limits you have to keep in mind when using the NPF/beta editor at the bottom of this article.

C. You can save drafts and schedule posts

If you can’t finish that post right now, no worries. Just save it to your drafts first and finish it later. Or, if you’ve prepared a cool post for New Year even though it’s still November, just schedule that post to publish on a New Year. More about queue/scheduling in Part 4 of this guide.

---

Best Practices

I don’t think I need to do a step-by-step on how to use the editor because it’s pretty intuitive, so let’s talk about best practices when it comes to posting.

On stating trigger/content Warnings

In Twitter, you do this:

// tw: r*pe, g*re, m*utilation . . . . [actual triggering content]

Please don’t do this.

First of all, here on Tumblr, we do not censor out those “problematic” words. You have to spell them out so that people who have such words filtered in their settings will actually not see them. Getting content filters to work will be a pain if people have to keep in mind all variations of rape (r*ape, r@pe, r4pe, etc).

Second, those multiple dots don’t do anything. Instead, utilize the “Read More” block. This block will hide everything that comes after it under a “Keep Reading” link.

On desktop, you click on this icon that has a zigzag sandwiched between two horizontal lines:

On mobile, you do it by typing :readmore: and then hitting Enter.

(I’ll talk more about triggers/content warnings in Part 3, which will cover Tags)

Just spell everything out actually, not just trigger words

Instead of oomfs or moots, say mutals. Instead of unalive, say murder. No need to shorten or tone anything down here.

Add image ID’s

Image ID’s are basically descriptions of an image. This is important for people using screen readers. I’m guilty for not always following this, but just trust me on this.

On desktop, you hover over the image, click on the three dots that appear, and then click “Update image description.” Keep the description in simple words and state exactly what the image contains. I’m doing it for this particular image below:

On dashboard and on some themes, the image ID will be shown when you click on the ALT button that appears when you hover over the image.

Sometimes, when OP forgets to put an ID, someone will reblog the post and add the ID themselves. If you see someone doing this on one of your posts, then please be an angel and add that ID to the original post. Image descriptions will be more useful/have more impact if they’re actually part of the original post.

---

Link back to source

If you’re sharing someone else’s content from another site, please indicate the source. You can do this by adding a link to the source from within the post body itself, or by using Tumblr’s content source feature in the editor:

Click on the little gear above the editor, and in the “Content source” field, paste your link.

---

Do not repost other people’s gifs/edits

Sometimes you see a cool gif here on Tumblr that you want to use on your own post. People are generally fine with that, but you have to do it the right way.

DO NOT DO THIS: Downloading the gif and then uploading it to your own post.

Instead, DO THIS: Use Tumblr’s GIF block and search for a gif from there. Doing it this way would link back to the OP and even notify them in their Activity.

Here’s an example of how it looks:

The gif above is from my side blog, and below the image, it says “GIF by fyeahbachisagi.”

Post Controls

If you don’t want a certain post of yours to get around too much, you can disable reblogs on it. Click the gear icon at the top of the editor, and in the “Who can Reblog?” dropdown, choose from Anyone or No One.

Limits on Replies, however, is on a per-blog setting and not per post. Go to tumblr.com/settings/blog/username, and scroll all the way down until you see the setting for Replies.

---

Okay, that’s all for Part 2! Next up, in Part 3, I will talk about utilizing tags

Update: Part 3 is up! Well, kinda... Not exactly a guide catered to Twitter refugees, but still a guide to tagging:

A Guide to Tagging on Tumblr: Types of Tags

#tumblr #tumblr guide #twitter #tumblr best practices #elon musk #miyamiwu.src #miyamiwu.tut

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crystalninjaphoenix · 9 months

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Feall and Wyld

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter Twenty-Eight

A JSE Fanfic

I thought this chapter would be short because I was very busy this week. Turns out, it's actually almost 7000 words so whoops. It's also the first fic I'm publishing where I'm using the new Tumblr text editor (I've been using the Legacy Editor all this time) so forgive me if there are some formatting issues I miss, or if this goes up at the wrong time. Anyway. This chapter is a sandwich. At the beginning and the end we have some personal drama with Henrik, and in the middle we have Marvin learning a bunch of weird magic stuff and exposition. Enjoy XD

Previous Part | More AU

Taglist: @brokentimewatch

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The Cliffs of Feall were one of the southernmost points in the kingdom. The edge of the island suddenly dropped into sheer black rock faces, with a slight pebbly beach at the bottom that was only visible during low tide. The Dragon’s Greatwoods fell away, leaving an empty field right before the cliffs dropped into the sea.

The Phantoms had set up camp in the middle of this field. It was much smaller than the one they’d had in the mountains. Much more... thrown-together. It was still a solid camp, but after Wyvernlair—a camp that had been set up for years—anything would be worse in comparison. Many of the Phantoms missed the safety of being surrounded by a protective ring of dragon bones. Though not all of them had come from Wyvernlair. Some had joined up from other camps. Most notably, the crew of the Serpent’s Wake were here, their ship floating farther out at sea where there was no risk of running aground.

Jackie and Henrik had arrived the night before. This morning, the two of them had gathered all the Masked Phantoms to share important information. Everyone had to be on the same page if they were going to continue their resistance efforts. So, they told everyone. The King they were fighting against was an enchanter with the power to manipulate the mind.

The gathering had instantly devolved into chaos after that.

Now, Henrik sat near the cliff’s edge. Not close enough to be in danger of falling, but close enough to see the sea below. He watched the Serpent’s Wake, anchored in the water, for a while. It was mostly empty now. Most of the crew had come over to camp early in the morning. Though they would be going back to the ship to sleep. Henrik didn’t really understand that choice.

“Sitting here all by yourself, sova?”

Henrik jumped a little. He twisted around, and saw Vsevna standing nearby. “You startled me,” he breathed. “That is not a good thing to do at the edge of a cliff.”

“Deeply sorry.” Vsevna grinned, giving a little two-finger salute. “May I join you?”

“Y-yes. Of course.” Henrik turned back around and hoped his face wasn’t as red as he felt it was.

Vsevna sat down next to him, crossing his legs. The grass around them was fairly long, reaching shin-length when standing. “Thinking about something?” Vsevna asked.

“Actually, I was thinking about you—your ship, I mean,” Henrik hurried to add. “It has to be an inconvenience to spend the night there. You have to find a path down the cliff, find where you left the rowboats, and then paddle all the way back out there. Seems like too much trouble.”

“Not too much.” Vsevna shrugged. “Considering we do not have any tents on board, we can’t stay in camp in any case.”

“I’m sure others would let you share a tent with them.”

Vsevna grinned. “Are you offering?”

“I—” Henrik choked.

Vsevna laughed. “Ah, I would not put that much pressure on you, Henrik.” He put a hand on Henrik’s shoulder. “Never feel pressured, yes? I don’t wish to be that sort of person.”

“Y-yes. I understand.” Henrik nodded. He took a few deep breaths to regain his composure. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“I came to check on you,” Vsevna said. “Jackie wanted to, but he is busy calming things down back there.” He jerked his head back towards the camp. “Five different people have already turned in their masks.”

Henrik groaned and let his head fall into his hands. “Of course.” He didn’t blame people for wanting to leave the Phantoms after hearing that news. Fighting a king was difficult enough. Imagine fighting a king with magic.

“Most people are staying, but they are still concerned,” Vsevna continued. “People are asking about witchcraft charms to protect the mind.”

“Those do exist,” Henrik mumbled. “But the materials for them... I am not sure how easy it will be to find glass or clear crystals.”

“Some of them are, what is the word? Ah yes. Outraged.”

Henrik laughed at the casual way Vsevna said that. “There was a lot of shouting at the meeting.”

Vsevna inclined his head, not laughing. “They are not mad at you. At this King. I know there is a lot of faith in the royal bloodline in this kingdom, so it must feel like a betrayal. I heard a few siding with your friend Marvin’s ideas of just killing the King.”

“Things are that bad, then.” Henrik sighed. “I suppose it’s a good sign. I never liked this blind faith many in Glasúil had towards the royals. But it was mostly harmless. Until we needed to start a revolution.”

“Kings and queens are nonsense.” Vsevna rolled his eye.

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far, but I am not surprised that you do.” Leylodka, Vsevna’s home nation, was ruled by a council, not a single monarch. It was very strange. “Do you think Jackie needs my help?”

“Do you think you can help?” Vsevna asked quietly.

Henrik bristled. “I am one of the people who started this.”

“No, that came out wrong. Of course you are capable. But, well... you must have left for a reason. It couldn’t have been just for the view.” Vsevna gestured at the open sea surrounding the cliffs.

Henrik had left for a reason. All that shouting, all that chaos, it was so much. He’d felt himself starting to untether. And this was not the time to slip out of reality and into his own mind. So, he had whispered that to Jackie, and Jackie had suggested he take a moment. Henrik had readily agreed. And now, here he was. But he wasn’t keen on telling Vsevna why he left. He was... still afraid.

The moment of quiet turned into a longer silence. The two of them sat near the edge and stared out at the open ocean. “Do you know what the name of this place means?” Vsevna asked.

“The Cliffs of Feall? No, I never thought about it. It is just the name.”

“‘Just’ a name. All names have meanings.” Vsevna stretched, raising his hands over his head and bending back. “I have been to many places, I always like hearing why they’re called what they are. Sometimes places are named after people. Sometimes they are named after the nature around them. Sometimes they are named after a myth.”

“Alright.” Henrik raised an eyebrow. “What are the Cliffs of Feall named after?”

“Well, that is the interesting part. See, ‘Feall’ used to be a word in Glassish. It meant... ah, what is it? When you... traitor someone.”

A small snrk sound escaped Henrik’s mouth. “Traitor someone?”

“Yes! Traitor someone, like when you stab them in the back and they scream out ‘Augh! Why are you traitoring me?!’”

Henrik burst into laughter. “It’s ‘betray.’ Traitor is a noun. A traitor will betray someone, and they will scream ‘Why are you betraying me?!’”

Vsevna rolled his eyes. “You knew what I meant.”

“I did, I did. And I agree, that is a stupid noun-verb pairing. They are too different. Glasish should be more consistent.” Henrik coughed, and resumed a more serious tone. “So, ‘feall’ used to mean ‘betrayal,’ then?”

“Yes. I think it was a specific sort of betrayal. It must not have been a common kind, if they stopped using the word.”

“Maybe. There are many reasons people could stop using a word.” Henrik nodded, looking thoughtful. “Do you think they are called the Cliffs of Feall because a betrayal happened here?”

“That is what everyone assumes. Perhaps someone pushed someone off the edge.” Vsevna leaned forward as if he was peering over the side of the cliff, even though they weren’t close enough for that.

“Not a very...Not a good omen, to have a camp here, then,” Henrik muttered. “Though, if I am being honest, I was a bit wary about this location for a while. It is not too far from the Wyldwoods on the west half of the kingdom. Perhaps some strange magic could drift over to us.”

“Bah. Even if that could happen, Wyldlands are nothing compared to the Wyldseas out there.” Vsevna grinned. “Don’t worry, Henrik, me and my crew have seen worse. We are very able to protect everyone.”

“Hah. Yes, I... I am not worried.” Henrik ran his hand through his hair, partially hiding his warm face again. “You... are very capable. And... very kind.”

“Thank you.” Vsevna stared at him for a moment longer, then turned back to the sea. “Do you want to be alone? I could leave.”

“No!” Henrik gasped, then cleared his throat. “No, you can stay. Please. I-I may not say much, after a while, but I would like your company.”

Vsevna smiled at him. “Company it is, then.”

The two of them sat there for some time. Long enough for the shadows to move. They said nothing. But occasionally, Henrik would open his mouth to speak. To tell Vsevna everything. All of the feelings Henrik had for ages now. But... the words never came. Those fearful thoughts were still there, stopping him. Telling him that there were so many ways this could go wrong, that what was happening now was fine and he shouldn’t risk things suddenly getting worse. Telling him that... that most likely... Vsevna wouldn’t want to bother once he knew about Henrik’s symptoms.

He didn’t like those thoughts. But he couldn’t push through them. Not now.

Until, eventually, Jackie arrived to tell the two of them that things had calmed down and the whole camp was now eating lunch. They all headed back, Henrik trailing silently behind with all those words he wanted to say still stuck in his throat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One week. Marvin had been walking through the Wyldwood for one week. And he still had no answers. In fact, he had even more questions.

Why were the trees alive? Or, more alive than plants normally were? Why did Draco—his familiar, who he should know everything about—have a connection to this place? Did the Wyldwood have a mind of its own? If it did, why did it want him here? It was herding him towards a location, but where?

He never seemed to get too hungry. At most, his hunger was a slight discomfort that could occasionally be sated with a few fruit and berries from the nearby plants. Not just any fruit or berries, though. Marvin had learned the hard way that some of them were dangerous. One time, he tried eating a fruit that looked like a dark green apple. Draco had meowed and tried pawing at him, but he’d quickly taken a bite before the cat could do anything about it. The moment he swallowed it, pain like sharp thorns had erupted in his throat. And then his stomach. That had kept him from moving at all for the rest of the day. Another time, Draco batted some bright red berries out of Marvin’s hand. The moment they hit the ground, they burst open, their juice sizzling and burning the grass.

He quickly learned to listen to Draco when it came to the food.

Thirst was similar. It was there, but rarely more than an inconvenience. And there were plenty of small streams and ponds around, many of which had unnaturally clear, clean water that instantly quenched his thirst.

But not all the water was safe. Marvin had walked towards an unusually wide river one day, only for the roots of the trees to rise from the ground and form a waist-high barrier. Curious, he’d watched the pond for a while. About ten minutes passed, and Marvin watched as a large reptilian head poked out of the water, green and slimy with yellow eyes the size of his hand. It soon disappeared again, and Marvin swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. He wasn’t sure what the Wyldwood wanted, but at least he now knew it didn’t want him dead.

And he knew he wasn’t alone in the woods.

Even though he never saw another living thing besides plants and Draco, he saw signs of other beings. Splashes in the streams just as he arrived. Movement in the corner of his vision. Strange symbols carved into the bark of trees. Tracks on the ground. One time he found a particularly long stretch of mud, embedded with a perfect set of footprints... that turned into a perfect set of hoofprints halfway through the mud.

His mind raced. He’d heard of all sorts of magical creatures in books, but he’d never seen any. The closest he got was occasionally hearing fierce wind in the distance that could have been hiding a clamor of voices—supposedly, that was a sign of the Wild Hunt passing by. But it could have just been wind, as well. Other than that, he had no experience with magical creatures. He half-believed they’d all died out like the dragons. But now he was starting to reconsider that...

One week. One week of walking, of following the path that the Wyldwood made and Draco led him through. One week of wondering what in the world was going on. One week of worrying about Jameson and Chase, who he’d been taken away from.

And then they arrived at their destination.

Marvin could tell something was happening because of the way Draco kept pausing. Muscles tensed, whiskers and ears twitching, clearly picking up on something that Marvin couldn’t sense. He grabbed his amulet—which had not stopped glowing since he’d ended up in the Wyldwood—and cautiously followed.

The thick trees became thin trees, letting in more sunlight through the canopy of branches. Those trees gradually fell away, revealing the edge of a cliff. Well, no. It was just a hill, but the drop was so steep and rocky that it might as well have been a cliff. Marvin stopped just before the sudden slope and looked down.

His first instinct was to call it a clearing, but that didn’t sound right. Forest clearings still had some sort of life in them. This was a circle of rocky ground, dead grays and blacks, an area sunken into the ground big enough for a small town to fit comfortably but almost entirely empty of anything but stone earth. In the very center was a... cabin of some kind. Maybe. It was far away. Definitely a building. It was surrounded by a circle of gray trees, leafless, their branches unnaturally twisted.

Marvin raised his hand. The cabin and its trees were far enough away that he could hide them completely from his vision with just his palm. And yet... looking at it, standing on the edge of this rocky circle... It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He grabbed his amulet. And as he did, he noticed its glow was flickering. “Don’t tell me this is where you want me to go,” he muttered, looking down at Draco.

Draco stared back up at him. The fur on his back was on end, as was his tail. He didn’t like this place any more than Marvin did.

{You don’t have to walk into that blasted heath just yet.}

For a mad moment, Marvin thought that Draco had spoken. But then he looked around wildly and saw a man standing next to him, just out of arm’s reach. “You!” Marvin gasped. His grip on the amulet tightened and he tried to pull forth his magic. But, strangely, he was having trouble grasping it. The magic kept slipping out of reach.

The man was previously looking down into the circle of rocky ground, but now he turned to face Marvin and smiled gently. {I think you’re mistaking me for someone else.} Though the man’s mouth didn’t move, Marvin heard his voice clear as day.

That strange sight made Marvin pause. He gave the man a closer look. He had thought the man was the King at first glance, but no. There were differences. Though he had the King’s green eyes, golden circlet, and general features, his brown hair was longer, pulled back in a small bun, and his beard wasn’t quite as thick. He wore a green cloak, as the King was often seen doing, but it was a lighter shade than the King’s. There was a weapon by the man’s side, but it was not a seax knife. Instead, a simple short sword. Marvin didn’t recognize the specific design, but he’d spent enough time with Jackie to recognize it was a lightweight model meant for one-handed use.

Jackie had also said that royal warriors hadn’t used one-handed swords in hundreds of years, which is why they were always surprised when Jackie used his. The fighting style for that sort of sword—especially when using two—threw them off.

Hundreds of years...

With a start, Marvin finally noticed the most obvious discrepancy: he could see through the man. The surrounding environment was vaguely visible through his body, as if it was made of fog. “Wh... what are you?” Marvin asked. “Who are you?”

{I am... merely a memory,} the man said. Marvin also realized then that the voice was coming not from the man, but from within his own head.

“You’re a spirit,” Marvin said slowly. “A spirit of an enchanter?”

{You’re deadly sharp, aren’t you?} The man grinned.

“But... your eyes.” Marvin stared at the man, confused. “Royal green.”

{Did you think your current ruler was the only Glasúil to be an enchanter?} The man shook his head. {It’s run in the family for ages. But it started to die out a few generations after me. Strong enchanters, like your current ruler, are rarer and rarer in the Glasúil bloodline.}

This must be a very old spirit. Only ancient texts referred to the royal family as the Glasúils. Nowadays people only used it to refer to the kingdom as a whole. “I... won’t lie, I’m a bit alarmed that the royals have been enchanters ‘for ages,’” Marvin says carefully.

{That’s good. That’s a natural response. If you weren’t alarmed, I would be worried.} The man chuckled.

Marvin paused. “Which King were you?” he asked. “Those eyes must mean royal blood, and if I wasn’t sure... that circlet you’re wearing, it’s the one the King or Queen always wears.”

{You’re right, I was a King of this land,} the man said. {My name was Samuel. Though I usually preferred just Sam.}

Marvin gaped at him, absolutely speechless. “S... Samuel the Green-Eyed?” he finally managed to whisper. “The... the first ruler? The one who united the kingdom?”

{The very same. But please. Just Sam is fine.} The man—Samuel—Sam tilted his head. {I understand I’m a bit of a legend these days.}

Marvin nodded wordlessly.

{I’m honored. Really. But... all legends tend to get warped by time.} Sam turned and stared back at the rocky clearing. The “blasted heath,” as he’d called it. {There are some things you’ve all forgotten. Though I don’t blame you. It’s hard to remember something when you can’t speak about it.}

A moment passed. When Marvin was sure the spirit wouldn’t say anything more, he also turned to look at the blasted heath. And the strange cabin and trees in the center. “What is this place?” he asked quietly. “Wh-why am I here? Why did the Wyldwood make me come here? Why did Draco?! How did Draco get me here?! He somehow transported me across the kingdom!”

Sam raised an eyebrow. {Oh, don’t you know? Your cat there is actually a cait sìth.}

“Wh—the magical fey cat that’s said to steal souls?” Marvin looked down at Draco with wide eyes. “Really?”

Sam burst into laughter. {No, I’m just having a laugh with you. Cait sìths are much bigger, and they’re almost entirely black.}

“...oh.” Marvin couldn’t believe he was really talking with the ghost of a legendary ruler. And he couldn’t believe that said ruler was a bit of a prankster. “I’m not very good with jokes of that kind,” he grumbled.

{Ah. I’m sorry.} Sam stopped laughing. {But for the real answer... Do you know what familiars are?}

Marvin nodded slowly. “They’re animals summoned by a wizard who are able to do magical things. But if you’re asking where they come from, no one is really sure.” He glanced around at the forest. “Some say they come from the Wyldlands. Like this Wyldwood.”

{Well. That’s partially correct, I suppose,} Sam said thoughtfully. {Familiars are magic itself. They are a bit of the magical energy that resides all around us, taking the shape of an animal that suits the wizard that called them.} He made a grand, sweeping gesture. {And all of the Wyldlands in the world are places where that magical energy gathers. Where it wells up and pools. And since familiars are part of magic, they all have a connection with the Wyld places, like this Wood.}

“Hm.” Marvin nodded slowly. “I... think I understand. Even though Draco is his own being, he’s... related to the Wyldwood. Like a parent and child.”

{That’s a good way of comparing it, yes. And as for why you are here, it is because the Wyldwood asked Draco to bring you here. I suspect it gave him a little bit of the magic gathered here in order to teleport you.}

“How did it do that when we were in Suilthair and the Wyldwood is on the other side of the kingdom?”

Sam waved that question away. {Magic energy is everywhere. The more magic you have, the less distance matters. And things like familiars and Wyldlands, which are magic itself? Everything is within reach.}

“Fascinating.” Though Marvin was in awe at these revelations, and though he longed to know more, he couldn’t let himself be distracted. “But... what is that?” He pointed to the cabin and trees in the center of the blasted heath.

Sam’s expression darkened. {It is a place where something unspeakable happened.}

Marvin waited for more. But nothing came. “Alright... but what happened?”

{Didn’t I tell you? It’s unspeakable.}

“Wait, you mean that literally?”

Sam nodded. {There is strong magic preventing me—or any other living or dead being—from speaking of what happened, or speaking of who did it. The only way to know is to piece it together yourself. And going down into that blasted heath to see for yourself is a key part of that.}

“...alright.” Marvin took a deep breath. He scanned the steep, rocky hillside, looking for the best way down. Then he took a step forward.

{Wait!}

The mental shout was so loud that Marvin physically flinched. “What?” he asked, spinning to look at Sam.

Sam was closer now, reaching out as if he was about to grab Marvin to stop him from going into the heath. {You can’t go just yet,} he said.

“Why not?”

{You need to bring someone else here.}

Marvin’s brows furrowed. “Who?”

{Your friend Chase. He needs to know what happened here.}

That was the last person Marvin expected to hear. But as he thought about it, it made sense. “Wait, does... does this have to do with Jameson’s vision?” he asked. “The one where he saw Chase defeat the King.”

Sam nodded. {We must be sure the future that Jameson Jairsolas saw will come to pass. The knowledge Chase gains here will be invaluable to that.}

Marvin took a step backwards. He let out a long sigh. “Well, I was just with Chase a week ago,” he said, a bit snappishly. “We were in the same city when magic itself decided to whisk me over here. You couldn’t have waited until the next time Chase and I were together and transported us both? It would have saved you at least two weeks’ time. Maybe more! Because I don’t know where Chase is right now! He might’ve been captured, for Elders’ sake!” The trees seemed to rustle as he mentioned the Elders.

{I’m not entirely sure of the situation you were in,} Sam said slowly. {But it seemed like you were about to be captured yourself.}

“You don’t know that. No one knows that! I wasn’t able to try and fight my way out before I was—what was that word you used? ‘Teleport’? Before I was ‘teleported’ here! And why did I have to walk for a week? If you could transport me anywhere because distance doesn’t matter, why not transport me here immediately? Can you put me back? Or, can the Wyldwood put me back? Or—actually, who is behind this? Who’s making sure Jair’s vision comes true? It can’t be just you, you’re a spirit—”

{Are you done yet?} Sam interrupted. He looked unimpressed. {Can I explain?}

“...yes.”

Sam sighed. {You’re right, I’m not behind this. I cannot leave this area, due to unspeakable reasons. As for why Draco couldn’t teleport you and Chase, it’s harder to do with more humans, especially if they’re not particularly magical. Chase happens to have not a drop of magic in his blood. That makes things difficult. So, the plan was to teleport you into the Wyldwood and show you the way here so you could guide Chase—and whoever else you might want to bring—later. It was essential that it was just you. Not only because of the teleportation limits, but because the Wyldwood is a very dangerous place. With Draco’s help, it was able to shield you from the dangers, but it will not be able to do so with more than one person. It is a very powerful magical place. But it is not all-powerful. Nothing is. Not even the unspeakable one.}

Marvin stared at him. “So... I’m supposed to leave this place. Then come back with Chase and maybe more people. And guide them through a very dangerous magical forest. So that Chase can learn something that will help him defeat the King.”

{Yes, exactly.} Sam grinned.

“You never answered one of my questions. Who is doing this? Who is asking that I risk my friends’ lives?!”

Sam paused. {Who is giving Chase his draíslings?}

“He... says that in the dreams, he sees...” Marvin’s eyes went wide as the realization dawned on him. “...he sees the Horned Elder One. God of wild places.”

Sam tilted his head. {I knew you were deadly sharp.} A slight breeze blew through the air, and Sam’s form dissolved into mist and disappeared.

Marvin stood there for a moment. Then he turned around, staggered over to the nearest tree, and sat down at its base. Draco followed him and leapt into his lap, staring up at him with big blue eyes.

This... was a lot.

For a long time, Marvin just sat there, staring up at the sky and processing everything that just happened. Defeating the King was more than saving a kingdom. It was now a mission from the very beings who watched over the world.

Draco rested his head on Marvin’s chest and began to purr. Marvin slowly reached up and started petting him. The motion was comforting. And the weight of a cat—magical or not—was grounding.

Marvin took a deep breath. “Well. I suppose we’ll have a long way to go to get back to Suilthair.” He looked down at Draco. “Unless you can do that ‘teleport’ thing again.”

Draco stopped purring. His eyes began to glow bright blue.

“Of fucking course,” Marvin muttered.

A flash of blue light lit up the Wyldwood.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“—really, it could have been worse,” Jackie was saying. “Everyone’s calmed down now. Some people have turned in their masks, but I guess that was inevitable. It’s big news. Anna sent out messenger birds delivering the news to other camps, I really hope nothing will happen to them. I can’t even imagine what would happen if the King knew we’re aware he’s an enchanter.”

Henrik nodded absentmindedly. The two of them were sitting on the ground in the tent they shared. It was small, barely big enough for their two bedrolls and packs of possessions, but anything was better than sleeping out in the open.

“Henrik? Schneep, are you with me?” Jackie leaned forward, half-reaching out.

“Ah, yes, sorry.” Henrik shook his head.

“Good.” Jackie dropped his hand. “Sometimes when you go quiet I get worried.” He laughed, but there was a bit of tension in the sound that showed he was more serious than that. “Were you thinking about something?”

“Yes. I-I was thinking about Vsevna again.”

Jackie raised an eyebrow. “In what way?”

Henrik rolled his eyes. “In the way that I want to tell him how I feel, but I am nervous.”

“Hmm.” Jackie paused. “What if I was there? Would that help?”

“What? As in, standing beside me while I tell him I lo—I-I have feelings for him?” Henrik stammered over the word, still not fully able to say ‘love’ out loud.

“Yes. Would that help?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Henrik fidgeted, playing with the edge of his scarf. “I would just feel... self-concerned if anyone other than the two of us were there.”

“Hmm. So, don’t do it on the deck of his ship, then,” Jackie said. “Even at night when it’s anchored, someone’s always awake.” He leaned to the side and drew back the tent flap, looking at the sky outside. “How soon do you want to do this, by the way?”

“Ah... I am not sure. Is difficult to plan for.” Henrik paused. “Why?”

“Well, if you want to do it today, you’re running short on time. I think Vsevna and the rest of the Wake’s crew are heading back to the ship for the night soon.”

“What?!” Henrik cried. “But it is nowhere near night!”

“That’s true, but Yuko said something about the tides.” Jackie shrugged. “I think it’s because they put their rowboats on that small beach at the base of the cliffs. If the tide rises to cover it, the boats will... I’m not sure what will happen, but my guess is they’ll either sink or drift into the ocean. Not good.”

“But—they will be back tomorrow, yes?” Henrik insisted.

“Probably.”

“Probably?!”

“The crew practically lives on that ship, there’s no guarantee that all of them will come to camp every day, especially if we’re not going to break camp for a while. It might be easier to just stay on there?” Jackie shrugged. “Personally, I can’t imagine staying on the sea for so long when there’s perfectly good land within rowing distance, but sailors can be—are you going somewhere?”

Halfway through Jackie’s words, Henrik had scrambled to his feet and lunged for the tent door. His heart was beating out of his chest. “I-I think I’m going down to the beach,” he said.

“Hmm?” Jackie pretended to not care, but Henrik could tell he was invested in this. The jittering leg gave it away. “Well, be careful on the path down the cliffs, it’s still very rocky. Have fun. Good luck.”

“Thank you.” Henrik nodded, and then left the tent, running across camp and towards the narrow path that led to the beach at the cliffs’ base.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he felt spurred to action now. Perhaps it was because he’d seen Vsevna in person for the first time in ages. And now he might not even come off the ship to visit camp? Henrik couldn’t go back to writing letters when he knew that Vsevna was right there. Sure, he might be back tomorrow, but Jackie had sown seeds of doubt in there. Maybe he’d done that intentionally, actually. To urge Henrik to do this sooner rather than later. But it was working!

The steep path to the beach forced Henrik to slow down. And as he did, he started to feel a bit foolish. It wasn’t like Vsevna was leaving. The Serpent’s Wake would be anchored near the Cliffs for a while. Henrik could see him some other time. This didn’t need to happen now. It wasn’t as urgent as it felt.

And then he got down to the beach, boots crunching on the gray pebbles, and saw Vsevna and the other crew members who’d visited camps all loading into the boats. One was already starting to push off the beach and into the water. That sight made it urgent again. “W-wait!” Henrik shouted, running towards the boats.

Vsevna noticed immediately. He turned, surprised, and held up a hand. The rest of the crew noticed as well, then, and paused what they were doing. “Henrik?” Vsevna shouted.

Henrik waved his hands. He came to a skidding halt right at the edge of the surf. “I... I need... to talk to you,” he said, struggling to catch his breath.

“Oh! Yes, of course!” Vsevna nodded. “Is this important?”

“Not... not too important... I suppose.” Henrik pressed a hand to his chest. His heart was beating rapidly, and he wasn’t sure if that was caused by his nerves or the dead sprint. “I... Can we talk... somewhere less... in earshot?”

Vsevna raised an eyebrow. He glanced at Yuko nearby, who also raised an eyebrow and made a sweeping ‘by your leave’ gesture. He looked back at Henrik and grinned. “Of course. Here, we walk this way.”

The two of them walked up the beach, closer to the rocky base of the cliffs. Henrik still wasn’t entirely comfortable knowing that the crew could still see them, but that was the price he paid for a spur-of-the-moment thing like this. “I... This is not... Phantom business,” Henrik said in Alterdan.

“I didn’t think it was,” Vsevna replied in the same language, chuckling a bit. “What is it, sova?”

Henrik opened his mouth. Fear fluttered in his stomach, and the words wouldn’t come. He took a few deep breaths. Vsevna waited patiently, his grin gradually fading into a softer expression. Henrik kept playing with the edge of his scarf. His eyes darted everywhere, landing on anything—the ground, the crew in the distance, the decorative cloth Vsevna had wrapped around his arm as an armband—except Vsevna’s face. After a solid ten seconds of nothing, he finally blurted out, “You mean quite a lot to me.”

Vsevna was silent for a moment. “You mean quite a lot to me, too.”

“No, I—” He had to convey this better. “I—We met a couple years ago now, wh-when I was in Bherreih for doctoring, and you—You are quite... stunning—” Oh Sisters no don’t open with that “—I mean, striking! I-I mean—you have a—a presence that I find—that I’m sure many people find—i-it is hard to not pay attention to you. A-and then, when you found out I was involved with the Phantoms and you—you told me right away that you had figured it out and you wanted in—” He could still picture that in his mind. They’d been in an alleyway between two buildings, so small their faces had to be a hand’s span from each other, it was dark, but Vsevna’s smile was lighting everything up... Wait no stay focused! “—I-I was immediately—I was instantly... struck.”

“...By lightning?” Vsevna said, another smile on his face now. Not like the one Henrik was remembering, which was a wide, excited grin. This one was smaller. Light-hearted, but warm.

“No! I mean, I-I might as well have been, I—” Henrik laughed nervously, looking down at his hands. “You are... I-I admire you greatly. You are... You dive into everything right away. You do not hesitate, it is straight into action.”

“And that is good? Well, I suppose you do spend time with Jackie. You would like those types of people.”

“No, i-it’s different with you,” Henrik insisted, looking up again. “Jackie is my friend, almost my family, I-I know how he does things. It is different. He charges into a fight because it is what he’s good at, and what he knows needs to be done. You will go into that same fight with—with a smile, a-and a laugh, and this—this air of—of confidence, of... being assured. Jackie enjoys a fight, but to you, it is fun. It is an adventure. A-and you are that way with... with a lot of things. I-it is why you sail. And it is... what I admire. It is... one of the things I like about you. But there is more. There is your smile. There is the way you remember people. There is the way you switched to Alterdan right away when you realized where I was from, a-and...”

Vsevna said nothing as Henrik trailed off. It was hard to read his expression, but it didn’t look... un-favorable.

Henrik swallowed a lump in his throat. “I care for you a great deal. And... I... know we are friends, but... there... can be more for me. But if you do not see that option, I... I will be fine with that, as well. Because I know it will be happier for you. But... if it is possible... it would make me very happy if we... were more.”

A moment passed in silence. Henrik couldn’t breathe. It was out there. No taking it back. All he could do was wait. Vsevna took a step forward, putting a hand on Henrik’s arm. “Henrik, I—”

Suddenly, the beach was lit up by a flash of blue light. Henrik and Vsevna drew back in surprise, and the others by the boats raised their hands to shield their eyes from the blinding light. Then the light disappeared. There was a thump! and the crunch of pebbles, a voice said “oof!” and an animal yelped. No, not just any animal—that was a cat, yowling in surprise.

“Wait a moment.” Henrik blinked, clearing the afterimage of the light from his vision. Someone was sitting on the beach who wasn’t there before. He took a few steps towards them. “Marvin?”

Marvin looked at him. Then at his surroundings, taking in the cliffs, the boats, and the group of people. His hair was longer, chin-length and tangled, and his clothes were terribly dirty, as if he’d been wearing them for days straight. “This isn’t where we’re supposed to be,” he muttered. He looked down at his lap, where Draco was sitting. “Did you do this on purpose? I thought distance wasn’t supposed to matter! Just take me directly back there!”

Henrik blinked, confused. “Ah, Marvin?”

Marvin glared at Draco. “Fine, I’ll work with it!” he said snappishly. Then he stood up, forcibly dislodging Draco from his lap. The cat immediately started walking away. “Don’t expect an apology this time! I’m not in the mood!” Marvin shouted after him, then turned to Henrik. “Schneep, where am I?”

“Ah... we are at the base of the Cliffs of Feall,” Henrik said slowly.

“Okay. That’s still about a week’s journey away from Suilthair. Damn it!” Marvin kicked at the ground, sending a spray of pebbles into the air. “There has to be a better way of doing this!” He shouted at the sky. “Couldn’t Sam have explained that too?!”

“Who is Sam?” Henrik asked. “And... how did you get here?”

“That’s a long story. Where’s Jackie? Have you two heard from Chase or Jair?”

“Jackie... should be on the top of the cliffs.” Henrik pointed. “We made a camp there.”

“Camp? Right, because Wyvernlair was found. Of course. And Chase and Jameson?”

“We have not heard from any of you in over a week. Though, that could be because we were on the run, traveling down here to the Cliffs.”

“Fuck. Fuck! Of course.” Marvin rubbed his eyes. “Alright. Alright. I can work with this.”

“What is happening?” Vsevna asked slowly, glancing from Marvin to Henrik and back again.

“Who are—right, Vsevna. No one else is that blonde and has an eye-patch.” Marvin laughed, the sound tinged with a manic sort of stress. “Sorry, I’m really thrown off right now. I just learned a whole cartful of overwhelming information. A spirit told me Draco’s made of magic and I have to take Chase to a blasted heath to help kill the King.”

Henrik blinked. “I’m... sorry?”

“It’s a lot,” Marvin said. “Just—just—How do I get up these cliffs? I need to tell you and Jackie and anyone else who you think should hear this!”

“There is a... path that way...” Henrik pointed. “It looks like Draco is already going there.”

“Yea sure he is!” Another manic laugh burst out of Marvin’s throat. “Sure! Alright, I’m going to follow him, I guess!” He walked in that direction, stumbling a bit on the pebbly beach.

Henrik stared after him. Then he looked at Vsevna. “I... should hear what... is going on with him...”

Vsevna nodded. “You know, I am quite curious, too.” He laughed. “I suppose we are not going back to the Wake after all. We will have to find a spot to tie down the rowboats. You go on, Henrik, I will catch up. Tell Marvin to not say anything until I am there.”

“Right.” Henrik nodded. He turned around.

Before Henrik could leave, Vsevna leaned closer to him. “We can talk about what you said at a less stressful time,” he said quietly.

Henrik’s stomach twisted into knots. It was strange that hearing that made him more nervous than whatever was happening with Marvin’s sudden appearance.

Though, of course, that was confusing as well. Had he mentioned something about a spirit? Chase killing the King? What was that all about?

Henrik took a deep breath, and started walking after Marvin.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #septic egos au #jacksepticeye au #dr schneeplestein #marvin the magnificent #jackieboy man #fantasymasksau #brigid writes fanfiction

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yeehawbvby · 2 years

Text

Falling Away With You | Ch. 10

Sebastian x F!Reader and M. Rasmodius x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: Seb infodumps on you a little. Also, tension go BRRRRRRRR

Author’s Note: I'm sorry in advance for the way I formatted text messages. Tumblr's editor is hard and I gave up.🧍

Edit: Messed with the texting portion again. It's still sloppy, but hopefully y'all like it better. ^^"

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

Prev | Next

At least Seb isn’t pushy, I’ll give him that. Sure, he’s awfully present today, but he hasn’t done anything to make me actually uncomfortable. I enjoy spending time with him, hormones and confusion and all.

I finish straightening my hair relatively quickly, and decide this look isn’t complete enough without a necklace. I grab one from my drawer — a black leather choker, with a faux pearl in the middle — and clip it around my neck. I take a deep breath, and march back out of the room, ready for whatever sweet or sexy Seb is going to hit me with this time…

Aaaaand he’s gone.

I still smell tobacco, though. I step out onto the porch and see exactly what I’d hoped and expected.

“Your breath is probably gnarly right now,” I half-joke.

“What, you don’t think morning breath, coffee and cigarettes mix well?”

I shudder at the thought. “Y’nasty…”

He takes me in for a moment, wordlessly. Making me feel all shy. “Your hair looks nice today,” he dreamily grins.

I mutter out a wimpy thank you, playing with and inspecting the ends of my hair. I should trim this soon, it’s getting a bit dead.

Seb leans against the banister and runs his fingers through his own messier tresses. I’m seeing his forehead for the first time, and it doesn’t disappoint. I wonder if he’d ever wear a headband or hair clips.

“So,” he blows out some smoke, “since you haven’t kicked me out, I’m gonna do it myself after I finish this.”

“Lame,” I respond, trying not to sound as disappointed as I feel.

“What, can’t get enough of me?”

He sounds so cocky… no, I can’t, actually, you mother fu— actually, y’know what? Kill ‘em with kindness, they say.

“No,” I smile.

He smiles too, widely, almost looking sort of giddy. A faint blush forms across his cheeks.

“What?” I laugh, leaving my spot near the steps to lean against the same railing he’s occupying.

“I just… didn’t expect that.” He looks down at the cigarette between his fingers and continues, picking the nail polish on his thumb. “You’re sweet.”

I ruin the moment, playfully elbowing his side. He nudges me with a hip bump.

Until he finishes his smoke, we don’t say anything. Neither of us are fans of sun, but we seem to be basking in it. Together. Well, to a certain degree. As long as I have a hand up to block some light from my weak sensitive baby eyeballs, I’m solid.

Once Seb’s finished, he walks to the steps to put it out in the dirt, and then fucking pockets it. Can’t that still potentially burn a hole? Whatever. I’ll order an ashtray for when he’s around here. He walks down the stairs and heads to the right, towards the backwoods that’ll take him home.

“So uh,” Seb says loud enough that I can hear, walking backwards so he can see me. “See you in a bit?”

A bit? I nod calmly, but can’t control the smile I break into. It’s fucking rad that he wants to be around me just as much as I want to be around him. I lean onto the banister closest to him, trying to seem cooler than I feel, as I respond.

“You should come back once you’re, like, decent or whatever.” I hope I don’t sound too desperate.

He stops, biting his lip and looking to the sky, seeming to think about it. “Nah. I have work to do.”

Oh. Aw…

“ You come to my house,” he demands.

Oh!

“Yeah, sounds good, dude.”

“I’ll text you when I’m ready, yeah?”

“‘Kay.”

He waves and turns around, I wave and watch him leave for a second in disbelief. If there’s anything I distinctly remember him — and, like, everyone else — mentioning, it’s that he prefers to be alone. Like, he really values his privacy.

What’s making me the exception to that? It’s not like I’m anything special. Sure I look decent, I guess. Decent enough that I’m a hot commodity in the valley as we established earlier. But that’s just eye candy. Does he really just feel that safe around me, that we can just vibe so easily together? That shpeel of his yesterday, about feeling cozy around me… it wasn’t just a fluke?

I grin at the thought. Turns out, it’s nice to feel valued. Who knew?!

While I wait for Seb to get ready, I’ll eat something and get started on some more designs for Mooncrest. Feeling antsy, I go for a walk to the saloon for some takeout instead of cooking. I grab a caesar salad with avocado and a soda, tip and thank Gus, and head back out.

I immediately feel something hard bounce against my leg upon exiting.

“Ow…” I mumble. I look down, and there’s a gridball rolling down the stoop and away from my feet.

“Sorry, beautiful.”

Oh dear god no…

I ignore the apology, looking over at the creep slowly approaching me. “Hello, Alex.”

There's always one or two dudes from everyone’s graduating class that never seem to leave their hometown. Bragging about being on varsity lacrosse or whatever when they’re going on 20, even 30. Hitting on local teenagers and young-looking adults alike, because of that weird BaReLy LeGaL fetish so many men seem to have while being in denial of their own rapid aging. Wearing old merch that screams their school spirit will never die.

Alex is that guy.

“I guess I need to work on my form, huh?”

I fake a laugh and hum my affirmation, readying myself to walk away.

“You excited for summer?”

Bro.

“No, not really,” I flatly answer.

“Yo, you’re wild,” he laughs, “summer is the best.”

“Different strokes for different folks, I guess.”

“Yeah. Funny you say stroke, I’ve been working on my backstroke over at the bathhouse.”

“Very cool, Alex.” My voice is absolutely dripping with sarcasm. He apparently has no idea.

“I can show you sometime, maybe you could come to the beach with me.”

Pass.

“We can work on our tans together, don’t want to look all pasty!”

I like pasty. Wait. He’s still talking?

He gasps, eyeing me ravenously. “Do you have a bikini?”

...Ew.

“Why don’t we make these plans another time,” I lie, wishing to spew out all the rude things I’ve been thinking while he rambled to me. “I’ve got some stuff to do.”

“Oh, right! I’ll see you around then, gorgeous!” he winks.

I sure hope not!

I swiftly turn on my heels and walk back towards the farm, feeling icky after that interaction. Alex seems nice at face value, but something just seems so off, so… nasty, about him.

When I make it home, Cannoli greets me by throwing up a few leaves next to my feet. Hello to you too, fucker. I carry him to his indoor water bowl, hoping he’ll rehydrate, and then I quickly clean up his little mess.

Yoba’s sake, I wanted to get some planning done before going to Seb’s. Coworking is nice, but I don’t know how diligent he’ll actually be. Will we really just coexist and do our jobs in the same room together, or is he gonna be goofy? What if I’m the one who feels goofy? Coding takes a lot of focus, though. He wouldn’t invite me over to hang out while he works if he minded the company.

Maybe I’m overthinking... I’m sure I’ll be fine.

After planning some ways to lay down a path and deciding where to put my animals when that time comes, my phone buzzes.

Sebastian > i don’t smell anymore

< thank yoba

< see you in like 20?

Sebastian > fuck you lol

> sooner

< what? why?

Sebastian > wanna see you

< ha, gross

Sebastian > -__-

< ;)

< omw

Sebastian > good girl

I squeak, blush, and feel my entire body heat up instantly as I read that last text. Great, he unlocked a praise kink I didn’t know I had. If he ever says that to me out loud, I’m going to melt on the spot. And now that he’s aware of the effect he has on me, he’s gonna love that shit.

I happily flap around my hands a little bit to shake out the nerves and the horny, shove the last few bites of salad into my mouth, and prepare to head out. I grab my satchel and throw in it my unopened Joja Cola, my supplies, and whatever I had stashed in the fanny pack I used yesterday.

Next, I slip on some black Vans, but stop myself from leaving, realizing I forgot something. Gotta give Cannoli his ritual goodbye pets. Because I’m not a monster.

__________________

“Hey (y/n)! Have a good walk?” Robin greets me from her desk.

“Yeah, I’ll never get tired of the views around here!” I hate this sort of small talk.

“Of course, me neither. What can I do for ya?” Right to business! It’s like she read my mind. Guess the spirits are feeling okay today.

“Nothing for now,” I say, walking to my usual spot across from her. “I’m actually here to see Seb.”

I rub the back of my neck, hoping she doesn’t react. It’s different seeing her now that I know her “plans” for us. I feel a little more on-edge.

She smirks. Oh god. Robin and Seb don’t resemble each other very much, but I can see exactly where he got that look from. She leans over the desk, looking like she’s ready to make a deal or some shit. Very Godfather-esque.

“Sebby’s taken quite a liking to you, hasn’t he?”

I shrug. “I hope he has. Would be kinda awkward hanging out with him if he didn’t,” I nervously laugh.

“Mhm,” she grabs her wooden mug — did she make that herself? — and takes a sip, eyeballing me. “You two have fun last night?” she interrogates. I squint at her and feel a blush creep up on me instantly. “I just want to know what you two were up to! No judgment!”

“I mean,” I shove my hands in my pockets and fiddle around with the fabric, “he walked me home, played with Cannoli while I made him some hot chocolate, and we fell asleep watching a movie. Nothing too fun or exciting.”

Robin hums. “Ok, ok, sounds like a good time… anything else?”

Robin narrows her eyes, with the same menacing grin on her face that her son sometimes shoots my way. She looks like she wants me to say more.

I’m noticing now how odd it is that I’m friends with a mother and son duo. She wants some hot gossip about my night, as any friend and lower-middle-aged woman would. I get it, truly. But at the end of the day, she’s my crush’s mom, for fuck’s sake!

“Robin.”

“(Y/n).”

I lean in and lower my voice, hoping her husband and daughter won’t hear from their lab across the hall. “Are you trying to imply that you think I had sex with your son last night?”

She matches my volume, “I’m just sayin’, he could do a lot worse!”

“Robinnnnn!” I desperately whine, facepalming. She snickers to herself. I point at her in the same way that some people point towards their dogs when scolding them. “We didn’t.”

She snaps, “Drat.”

I tilt my head to the heavens and groan.

“Mom,” I hear a velvety voice say from behind me. Thank fuck he’s here.

“Sebby.”

“What are you doing?”

“We’re just catching up a bit, right (y/n)?”

I look between the two of them, as they await my answer. I see Robin’s signature, mischievous eyebrow waggle and opt to focus on the tall emo boy.

“Please help me, Sebastian.”

Robin continues her calm, yet maniacal, laughter. Seb sighs and puts an arm around me, directing me to the basement, mumbling something to his mother about shutting up. I can’t help but laugh with her, honestly.

“She was doing so good at not openly shipping us, at least around me… then one night together, and bam! She thinks we’re fucking.”

“Oh my god,” he plainly responds, closing his door behind him.

“Encouraged it, even,” I add.

“Oh my god! It was that bad?”

I haven’t looked at him, but his amused malcontent is evident in his voice. I break into a full-blown giggle fit while nodding in response, as I put my things down on the couch adjacent to his desk.

“Your mom actually brought up something I’ve been thinking about,” I tell him.

“You were thinking about fucking me, (y/n)?”

Yeah, and I’ll do it again, I think to myself.

I flop down next to my bag. Seb removes his hoodie, revealing a little midriff in the process. Mmmmm. It’s followed by a white shirt with black sleeves, which he immediately rolls up to his elbows. This is a great look on him. He seats himself next to me.

“Ignoring that question,” I softly elbow him. “What I was going to say is that for such a so-called loner, you seem to like being around me.”

I do a little shimmy as I reach for my phone, curiously about the time. That reminds me, does he actually have a half-naked photo of me on his camera roll now, or was that a bluff? I’ll have to ask about that.

“Yeah, I guess I do.” He’s so precious when he’s being sincere. “I feel like I can be myself around you.”

“Can’t around Sam?” I inquire, unable to stop before I realize how nosy I’m being. I mentally smack myself in the face.

He sighs, heavily.

“I dunno. Sam goes crazy if he’s alone for too long. He DMs me almost every day, begging me to go to his place.” He leans his head back and closes his eyes. Sweet Yoba, he has a nice neck…wait no, not the time. Focus, (y/n)! “Doesn’t care if I’m working with a deadline or something, because he doesn’t think I have a ‘real’ job. I like having him around, but it’s a bit much sometimes.”

“Bummer… Abby?”

He scoffs. “Not anymore. That girl has no boundaries.” Wow, really? Haven’t noticed! “She’s nice, but she just doesn't take no for an answer. I could say I’m working, sick, anything and she’ll stop by anyway and complain about being bad at Prairie King, or about how bored she is. Like, no shit, dude. If I'm working I can’t exactly entertain.”

He leans up and starts picking at his nail polish, seeming to get angry just thinking about it. I guess this might be what peeved him so badly, when he caught her staring me down at the saloon.

“And then my mom gives me shit for being a bad friend and rejecting their plans with me all the time, or sitting at my computer too much, because she probably doesn’t think my job is real either.

And then I catch shit from Demetrius because I’m not as accomplished as his daughter. Because he loves to ignore the fact that I’d easily be totally independent from him by now if I’d entered the corporate rat race. Yoba forbid I get successful doing anything else. If I leave this room I’m being harassed by fucking everyone, obviously that would make me aversive towards people.”

As I nod along, I silently hope that he feels better ranting about it, considering I accidentally started this. I can only do so much to take away all this shit he’s dealing with. I start playing with a stray thread on his sleeve, not really noticing that I’m doing it until he shows that he does. He seems to lean a little bit into my touch, and so I lean onto his arm, still twirling the string around between my fingers.

“Sam seems like a good guy, and Abby…” I pause, trying to be careful with my word choice here. “I dunno. She’s nice? I guess? I… dunno. But I definitely get those weird and clingy vibes from her.” He nods. “And you know I’m pretty close with your mom… sure she’s made comments here and there, but she thinks you turned out decently and she tries to ‘get’ you, I know that much.”

Seb tenses up, and I put my other hand on his arm. Fuck, it just occurred to me that trying to be kind towards them probably just sounds like I’m “siding” against him.

“Look, I don’t like talking badly about people even in a context like this. Feels weird… But, I know for certain that it isn’t great that you have all these people in your life that care about you, and yet they don’t respect you. Or at least your job, and your social battery. Regardless of how good any of their intentions might be, that sucks.”

He eases up a bit. Phew.

“You’re the one experiencing all this. So it doesn’t matter what your friends, or your parents, or any other people living in this stupid little town think. In the end, Seb, you’re the one who’s being put down and hurt. I’m really sorry you have to deal with that.”

He takes a moment to process things. I hope he needed the validation; that I didn’t cross a line by interrupting his rant to give my own two cents. I just sorta selfishly wanted to help.

“I appreciate that a lot, (y/n)… thank you,” he responds, resting his head atop mine. “I wish they would apologize though, you know?” he quietly admits. I nod in response. “They really just think I sit here and surf the web all day. Everyone thinks my friends are more productive and valuable than me, just because they leave their rooms more often than I do. It fucking hurts, (y/n).”

I don’t know how to respond without sounding like a broken record or getting too sappy, so I give his arm a little hug. I have an inkling of a feeling that touch is his love language, just based on our interactions so far. I hope I’m right, because holy shit, he’s comfy.

“Using my body again, huh?” I can’t see his face but I know there’s a cheeky grin on it.

I pull away, about to argue that it isn’t my fault he’s a wonderful pillow. But before I can say anything, he wraps his arm around me and pulls me to his chest.

He whispers, “Sorry for shoving all of my shit at you like that, out of nowhere. I didn’t mean to, I just—”

“Don’t worry about it,” I cut him off. “You don’t need to apologize. I’m really glad I can be here for you.” I sink into his chest a bit further. “Thanks for trusting me, Sebastian.”

He gives me a tiny squeeze, and chuckles. “Full-naming me, huh?”

“Shut up…”

I can hear and feel his heartbeat on my cheek, which in turn rushes the beating of my own. His pulse seems pretty steady, for such an avid smoker. I put my hand on his lower belly to play with yet another loose thread. Must be an old shirt. His heart quickens its pace. I giggle, knowing that I have that sort of power.

“Hm?”

I reach up, placing my palm against his chest. “Your heart…”

It goes a little bit faster as I point it out. Heh, I like this game.

“Whatever…”

I chuckle and I look up at him, meeting his gaze, which I didn’t even know was on me ‘til now. How long has he been just watching me up there?

Oh fuck, it’s like that moment with Sam again. Seb is just inspecting me. And I feel just as calm as that night on the beach, but so much more giddy. I ball up the part of his shirt that I’m touching into my fist, stimming my butterflies away the best I can.

I study Seb’s profile, since the opportunity basically presented itself on an obsidian platter.

His eyebrows are thick, but well-kempt. He has perfect cheekbones. A few light birthmarks scatter around his skin, just like on the arm that was draped around me this morning. He’s got long, dark eyelashes framing his blue, almost purple eyes. And his lips aren’t thick, just average-sized, I guess, but they’re nice. So nice.

They look so soft. This is my first time smelling his “normal” breath. The scent of his cigarettes lingers, because of course, but it’s spearminty otherwise. Sweet, almost.

I wonder if he tastes sweet, too.

Sam pussied out of kissing me, and I was thankful. I didn’t really want to kiss him, nor did I want to deal with the baggage of it. Seb, on the other hand…

I’m pulled from my stupid little fantasy when Seb wets his lips and smirks. I shudder at the sight, but not without realizing I’ve been staring at his mouth for such a hot minute. Fuck.

I lower my eyes and reposition, my face and ears hot, and mumble a quiet “sorry.” This earns a laugh and some light head rubs from Seb. I still wish that wasn’t so comforting…

I feel myself dozing off a little after a few minutes of snuggling against his strong heartbeat, but manage to jolt myself awake.

“Oh god damnit,” I yawn, standing up to stretch.

“Hm?”

“Mm'sleepy.”

I grab the soda from my bag and crack it open, promptly downing it. He laughs at me, then checks his phone.

His phone…

Hm…

Oh!

“Hey,” I try to sound serious as I sit on the couch, up on my knees so that I can level myself with him. He looks a little surprised, but tickled. Haha so funny, local sMoL bEaN tries being assertive! Ugh. “Did you actually take a picture of me in my underwear?”

He chuckles, but doesn’t answer, directing his focus back to his device. I’m about to try and regain his attention, thinking he’s ignoring me for shits and gigs. But then, he holds it up. And there I am, in all my unclothed glory... I do look kinda spicy from that angle, not gonna lie, but that’s not the point!

“Oh my fucking god,” I deadpan.

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“Why?”

“You told me to,” he states, giving me that evil grin again.

I nod and suck my bottom lip to process this. “Cool! Delete it?”

“If you want me to, sure.”

“I mean,” I cross my arms and plant my butt onto the cushion next to him, my body twisted to face the left side of his. “Why would you need it, now that you’ve… proven your point, or whatever the fuck.”

He inhales deeply, but holds that stupid, devilish, punchable smile, and turns his body towards mine.

“Do you want the honest answer, (y/n)?”

…Fuck.

I’m entranced by the dark smolder he’s giving me. I wanna hear him say what I think he’s going to say, what I hope he’s going to say, no matter how embarrassing it might feel. I nod my head and mutter quietly, smirking, wanting to match his energy the best I can. Confidence is key.

“Yup. Full truth.”

“Well.”

He leans in just as tantalizingly close as he did this morning, in my bed, trapping me against the arm rest. He’s blushing wildly, but I can tell he’s loving this. He knows he’s a tease, and it’s been confirmed he enjoys being one. And he knows I do as well.

“You’re ridiculously sexy…”

Oh my god. He’s leaning in more, and his lips are literally grazing mine as he speaks, but not quite closing the gap. The sensation is making me squirm.

“…and I don’t know if I’ll ever get to see you like that again,” he continues bluntly. “So I wanted something to look back to, just in case.”

Oh no.

Parroting his sly comment from earlier, I narrow my eyes. “Were you thinking about fucking me, Sebastian?”

He pulls away a little to snort back a laugh. His eyes locked onto my own, he nods, and then murmurs, “Yeah, I was.”

I can’t form words so I just let out a breathy laugh in response. I lean my forehead up onto his, roll my eyes shut, and grab a fistful of his top in each of my hands, groaning. It feels as if I’ve just done a workout, and this will help me recover.

Reactively, he cups my face in his hands. He is absolutely destroying me. I want him so badly, but we’ve never even kissed. This is, like, fast, no? Maybe not. Ugh. I want to kiss him, but I don’t have those sorta balls.

But like… wow.

“Seb?”

He hums curiously, but I don’t even know what to say. I just want to say his name. Over, and over, and over. I just shake my head, and he seems to accept that.

We continue to observe each other, up close, rubbing noses, still refusing to close the gap between our mouths. Teasing whatever’s to come next, if anything comes next. There’s nothing stopping us from just fucking kissing already, but we’re both content as is, intoxicated off of each other.

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sunnydaleherald · 5 months

Text

The Herald's position on AI-generated text and images

We've occasionally linked outputs of things like predictive text engines in the past, especially back when those were an interesting novelty. Now that pretty much the whole world is using ChatGPT, the time of novelty is past, and it's time to clarify where we stand. A summary of this post will be added to the Herald's FAQ for reference.

As a rule, we will not knowingly link AI-assisted stuff unless it's exceptionally original compared to what we've seen before (for example, an entirely new format) or the human artist/author has modified the generated material in some creative and non-trivial way (for example, by using AI to create a background, which they then heavily modify by hand), or the post has sparked substantial discussion.

If someone posts machine-generated material and doesn't label it as such, we--in all honesty--might not be able to tell. However, if we do find out, especially if there's evidence that little to no human editing went into the finished work, we'll remove the work in question from the Herald if we've already linked it, and we'll avoid linking anything else posted by the same person in the future.

We arrived at this approach because the Herald pretty much exists to promote what fans create and what fans have to say. Large text models are not Buffyverse fans, and if their developers have any opinion on the series, it's not apparent in their work.

On a more serious note, one of the Herald's stated purposes is to encourage fandom members to participate in their community. We want to support people pouring time, effort and love into what they create, expressing and discovering themselves in the process, starting conversations based on their own opinions, and collaborating with actual human beings. The process is crucial; it's part of what builds the community. Sure, AI is efficient in the sense that it can provide something vaguely acceptable faster than humans can. But if efficiency was our goal, none of us would be here taking our sweet time to ruminate over a 20+ year old show.

I bet many of our readers don't need us to explain that there are issues with AI, but are more surprised that we're not taking an even more categorical position against AI. To stay at all relevant and useful, because as a newsletter started in the oughts we are a relic of ages past, the Herald has to make an effort to be open to different forms of fandom participation and keep up to date with new developments. We're well accustomed to linking some things we personally don't like, because our work isn't about each editor's individual opinions. So we're not closing the door to the possibility that these technologies *could* be used for worthwhile creations. In a few more years or maybe even sooner, if the use and regulation of machine learning continues to develop and forms of artistry get more established, we (or future editors of the Herald) might make different decisions about what to include. Or the fad might blow over and AI use in art might become an anecdote of the past, like that era when people put jello in all their cooking.

P.S. We don't always have time to do substantial research as we gather and select links, so if you notice we've linked something that is for sure not human-made, feel free to let us know by sending sunnydaleherald an ask on tumblr or contacting me ([email protected] or a direct message on the webbed site of your choice where you've seen me around). However, we are unlikely to act on such tips without solid proof.

A very happy ritual sacrifice with pie to all who celebrate!

#mod post

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sultrysirens · 1 year

Text

New Stories!

Hey all! I know I haven't posted or updated anything in forever here, but I wanted to let everyone know that I have been writing and posting.

On AO3. ^^;

The formatting issue between Google, Tumblr and AO3 used to be so annoying that what I would do was write on Tumblr, copy/paste on Google, edit the parts that needed fixing, then copy/paste again on AO3, so I got into the habit of just cutting Tumblr out of the equation.

Then Tumblr got an update that allowed the copy of formatting from the clipboard to its text editor, but I ended up just not posting the new things I was writing on AO3. I have several stories there that have never been put here on Tumblr.

So, I figured I should at least link them. :3

My account there: SirenNightshade

The Guild Codex:

Protecting Humans for the Irritated (A retelling of the entire book series from Zylas's perspective. Eventual naughty stuff.)

Breaking Rules for Professionals (A continuation of the series. Robin and Zylas's problems are far from over. Now they gotta figure out how to keep him hidden for life instead of just for the few months they'd expected their adventure to last. Naughty stuff sprinkled here and there ;) .)

Fanart (Fanart for the series in general, plus some of my specific fics.)

Minis (Mini scenes for the above fics.)

When The Night Comes:

Taming the Wilds (A chronicling of my secondary Hunter, Tara, as she progresses through the story and romances August, her non-binary boss. Eventual explicit sex.)

Perfect Balance (A chronicling of Selina, my main Hunter, going through the story and romancing her two beaus, Ezra and Finn. Told more through the mens' perspectives than hers. Eventual explicit sex, but raunchier cause TWO MENS 8U.)

Polarity (Tara and her partner August talk about August being non-binary. She's very curious. Oneshot.)

Originals:

Monstertober 2022 (unfinished) (Small, original oneshots that, in retrospect, I'm pretty sure I did start posting here... huh.)

Lewd Dungeon Crawling (A half-elf, Adonna, decides to leave her starter-area questing zone of a village to become a true adventurer. Turns out, true adventuring includes a lot of sex with monsters. Naughty story, much monsterfucking.)

Breeders of the Nephelym:

Nephelym Breeder Alex (Alex is a human. The world is filled with furries. She fucks them a lot. VERY naughty and explicit story.)

I hope everyone enjoys these! Note: if you don't know what something is, you can message/ask me about it or google the thing directly. I'll explain, but remember...I tend to ramble. XD;

-Nightshade

#siren nightshade #update #archive of our own #ao3 #outgoing links #sfw #the guild codex: demonized #when the night comes #originals #breeders of the nephelym

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