#she was shellshocked!! it took her weeks to limp all the way back down that mountain. all the way back to the place she called home | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

punkgrogg · 3 years

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Bakugou has a big heart pt.1

Pairing: Bakugou/Ojiro, (eventually Bakugou/everyone)

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none :)

Summary: Bakugou is in his second year and he’s not very good at dealing with his emotions

Length: 2,306 words

Notes: I’m back guys :) I have lots of new ideas for fics and have a lot of new stories outlined along with finishing what I left off last year.

Bakugou groaned internally, Cementoss just seemed to be droning on and on today. The constant emphasis on safety seemed a bit overkill at this point, they’ve sparred for three classes in a row so far without so much as a sprain. He could feel the sweat accumulating around his forearms as he baked in his thick gym uniform. Today they were going to spar in the gym and he couldn’t wait to fine-tune his newly developed special move. He expanded on the basics of just his normal blast by trying to rapid-fire and it has worked well during his solo practice sessions but today he could see how well it held up during a mock battle.

Finally, his teacher started to pair everyone up together and he was only slightly disappointed he didn’t get paired off with icy-hot or pink cheeks. Instead, he was paired off with the Monkey. Maybe this would work out for the better; after all, he wanted to make sure his close combat skills stayed sharp, he thought as he and Ojiro were propelled upwards by Cementoss. Instantly the karate kid started to circle Bakugou, his tail whipping left and right. He lunged forward with a high kick and Bakugou feigned to the right and sent a blast towards Ojiro’s left leg to knock him off his feet but suddenly Ojiro’s body was fully supported by his tail as he spun away from Bakugou. The fight continued like a dance, where there was a lunge there was a dodge. Each one of the pair barely landed more than a glancing touch. Sweaty and frustrated Bakugou finally leaped back one last time and tried his new special move.

It happened in slow motion, Ojiro was standing with his back to the base of a higher tower where another duo was battling it out, but Bakugou hadn’t aimed as well as he thought and his blast instead went to Ojiro’s face instead of his torso. Two blasts back to back that plastered him to the rock wall. Bakugou stood there with his mouth agape, his hands facing down. Ojiro wasn’t getting back up, he had his face cradled in between his palms and his tail wrapped tightly around his knees as he dropped down into a kneeling position.

“Cementoss! Injury!” Bakugou screamed as loud as the lump in his throat would let him. He rushed to Ojiro’s side and tried to pry his hands off his face so he could inspect the damage. Ojiro’s skin was scorched red and blood was smeared across his cheeks. Bakugou flinched back when Ojiro hissed in pain. The golden blonde boy curled into himself and kept his face turned away. Bakugou’s heart fell through his ass, how could he do this to Ojiro? Ojiro was supposed to dodge. He was supposed to block the blast and keep going. How had it turned out this way? The blast wasn’t supposed to be any stronger than what he used of the regular. Oh no, he was sweatier than normal, did that make his offense stronger than normal? He fucked up. Ojiro was hurt because of him.

Aizawa and Cementoss quickly arrived at both shellshocked boys. Bakugou was frozen with a hand still clutching at Ojiro’s gi. Ojiro was hiding his face, Aizawa was able to connect the dots and that was where the injury had occurred. He helped the boy get to his feet as Cementoss tried to comfort a speechless and uncharacteristically limp Bakugou. Aizawa led Ojiro over to Recovery Girl’s station by the entrance of the gym. She soothed the tense boy as she cleaned his wounds then kissed him. All tuckered out from the forced healing Ojiro went limp in his chair and started to doze off. The rest of the class had been lowered down to ground level and Aizawa was able to see his students all in varying degrees of concern.

Cementoss’s soothing words seemed to pass through Bakugou’s head as if they were light and he was the invisible girl. He barely took stock of being pulled to his feet and the sudden silence as all of his classmates stopped fighting was lost on him. Instead, all he could focus on was the whine of pain that Ojiro had made when Aizawa had pulled him away. It echoed in his head and his stomach was knotted in anxiety.

When the whole class was lowered to the gym floor Kirishima made his way over to his best friend. He could see that Bakugou was a bit shook up, “Baku-bro, you good?”

His question went unanswered and he couldn’t help but be concerned for the usually explosively eloquent boy. Kaminari flitted over to his friends, completely oblivious to the situation. He sidled up to Bakugou, arm slinging across the mute boy’s shoulders in familiarity despite being warned against it numerous times in the past. “So, King explosion murder, you won today?” he teased leaning into Bakgou’s face, the furrowing of the barely visible brows finally hinted at Bakgou’s darkened mood.

“I lost control… Denki, he's hurt because of me.” Bakugou whispered in a voice so vulnerable that Kaminari barely registered that Bakgou called him by his first name. His affable smile faltered, he side-eyed Kirishima whose face was contorted into one of concern. This was new. Bakugou had only ever used marginally clever nicknames for everyone- so Denki wasn’t quite used to his friend using not just his name but his first name.

“Ojiro’s okay Bakugou, if he wasn’t then Recovery Girl would be rushing him into her actual clinic,” Kaminari said making sure his voice came across as soft as possible. Bakugou’s shoulders only slumped further.

Aizawa called attention to himself and quickly dismissed the class to their dorms, assuring them all that their classmate would be in tip-top shape. He watched as they all filtered out of the gym quickly, except one of his problem children- Bakugou. He could tell by the way the usually proud boy stood almost defeated, that he was blaming himself for Ojiro’s injury. He watched as the platinum blonde nervously made his way towards the makeshift clinic. Which was really just a table filled with bandages, antiseptic sprays, and a couple of chairs set to the side that currently housed one-tailed individual.

“He’s okay?” is the first thing Bakugou could say when he got close enough to see the golden-haired boy’s unscarred face. The knot in his stomach started to loosen but the guilt still held him hostage.

“Yes, I'm just waiting with him to make sure he makes it back to the dorms,” Aizawa affirmed before leaning against the wall heavily. “You know it’s not your fault right? These things happen, especially during training. Ojiro is one of our less injury-prone students but he’s had his fair share of Recovery Girl’s kisses.”

“I lost control- this wasn’t supposed to happen,” Bakugou whispered meekly.

Aizawa said nothing, just looked up to the ceiling deep in thought. Bakugou continued to watch over Ojiro protectively until Ojiro’s eyes fluttered open- then he pointedly and looked away. Ojiro glanced around his surroundings as he pushed himself into a sitting position. His teacher asked him a few questions before nodding and walking out of the gym while calling back to the two that they better be back in the dorms by dinner. Ojiro questioningly looked up at Bakugou who seemed very occupied with not making eye contact.

“Were you waiting for me?” Ojiro asked quietly, he and Bakugou didn’t really get along that well but over the last couple of weeks, they’d managed a simple camaraderie. He was touched that anyone had stayed to wait for him but he was especially touched that the snarkiest boy in class was waiting for him. By the slight flush on the pale boy’s cheeks, Ojiro felt as if he got his answer so he smiled softly before standing up. Correction- tried to stand up. Ojiro’s body was a bit too tired and he stumbled forward.

“Are you okay?” Bakugou exclaimed as he caught Ojiro by the shoulders. His heart was in his throat and even when Ojiro steadied himself Bakugou wouldn’t let go.

“I’m fine, just a bit drained. It’s not as bad as when I sprained my tail.” Ojiro joked, trying to lighten the mood of the room.

“Lean on me, I'll help you back to the dorm. We don’t need you falling over and needing another trip to Recovery Girl.” Bakugou didn’t wait for a response as he hoisted one of Ojiro’s arms over his shoulder and held him firmly at his waist.

“Alright, thanks, dude.” Ojiro could feel his face warming at the firm hand holding his hip. He stepped forward slowly and Bakugou kept pace and gently urged Ojiro on. It took them about ten minutes to get back to their dorm hall and by then, both were making small jokes.

“Hey guys, you’re finally back!” Mina yelled as they entered the room, a gaggle of girls camping out on the couches in the common room.

“Yeah, sorry for worrying you all.” Ojiro smiled sheepishly. Bakugou adjusted his grip on Ojiro and when the other tried to pull away ever so slightly, Bakgou pulled him closer. For some reason, he felt protective of the fatigued boy, and the thought of him not needing Bakugou’s help may have made his heart clench uncomfortably.

“Aoyama and Yaoyorozu are in charge of dinner tonight and she said something about couscous, I don’t really know what that is but it has to be better than the burnt rice she made last time,” Uraraka informed the boys, and Ojiro’s face twisted into one of distaste.

“ Yeah, I’ve tried it during one of my mom’s food experiments and frankly I’m not the biggest fan.” He turned to Bakugou, “will you help me upstairs?”

“No problem Ojiro,” Bakugou nodded toward the elevator and they quickly made their way up- not noticing the open-mouthed faces of shock that crowded the couches.

They made it to the third floor and Ojiro led him towards his room wordlessly, and maybe he was leaning a bit more into Bakugou than he probably needed to but if you’d ever ask him he’d deny it. Bakugou was comforting to Ojiro’s weakened state and frankly who didn’t want a cute boy to help them in their time of need.

Meanwhile, Bakugou was facing his own dilemma, why in the world did each step toward the bed fill him with dread? Gritting his teeth and shoving down his confused emotions, Bakugou helps Ojiro lay down on his bed. “You good?”

He got a slight nod as an answer as Ojiro curled up under the covers, obvious exhaustion flooding his face. Feeling out of place Bakgouu started to step away but was surprised when Ojiro reached out and grabbed a fistful of Bakgou’s pants.

“Can you stay here for a second?” Ojiro mumbled, his face scrunched up against the pillow. A silent nod was all that Bakugou could manage, his heart in his throat, so he nervously sat on the edge of the bed near Ojiro’s knees. Ojiro peeked up at the nervous nelly and decided to tease him. “I was going to thank you for helping me but you look so cute when you’re nervous.”

It took a second to register but Bakugou flushed a deep ruby color and stood up abruptly, Ojiro smiled blindingly at his reaction until the hot head high-tailed it out of his room.

Well shit.

Bakugou closed the door behind him, being mindful not to slam it, he rushed to the elevator and jammed at the button until it finally opened. He quickly hit four and repeatedly pressed the close door button while his heart seemed to be beating in his ears. He knew his face was flushed- he could feel the heat it emitted. Once the doors finally closed he took a deep breath and patted his cheeks. Why was he even acting like this? The girls downstairs have called him cute in passing and he’d never reacted this way before. Maybe it’s just exhaustion from the rollercoaster of emotions he took today. Yeah, that must be it.

He was mostly calm and back to his usual skin tone by the time he made it halfway down the hall to his dorm but all of a sudden Kirishima stepped out of his room. “Baku-bro! Satou just messaged me that dinner is ready, want to head down together?”

“Not today, I’m tired.” Bakugou brushed past Kirishima and headed into his room while all but slamming his door. He flicked the lock and pressed his slightly warm forehead against the cool wood. He couldn’t help but feel as if his earlier assumption was wrong. He could still feel his heart racing from when Ojiro called him cute. Yeah, Bakugou knew he wasn’t ugly. After all, he took after his mom, he knew the old hag was beautiful. But hearing it from Ojiro was different than anytime before- maybe it had to do with how it built up.

Wait, how did it build up? Yeah maybe he felt different today but it was hard to pinpoint any of his emotions today. The protective urge Ojiro pulled out of him? He’d felt that before! With the shitty nerd and shitty hair especially. Though the urge to keep Ojiro in his arms when he had tried to pull away was new. He gently knocked his forehead against the door before trudging over to his bed. A glance at the clock on his headboard showed it was just after six. Way too early to fall asleep and as if he could. He didn’t understand what was happening to himself. He stared at the ceiling as the realization dawned on him.

Bakugou had a crush on Ojiro.

#Bakugou has a big heart #bakugou kasuki #ojiro mashirao #bakugou x ojiro #rarepair #i feel some chemistry from them and i needed this chapter to solidify it

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the-ace-with-spades · 3 years

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(6/6) the best is yet to be

five times someone realized Ronan and Adam were basically married and one time they actually were

Part 1 │Part 2 │Part 3 │Part 4 │Part 5 Read on ao3

They were getting married.

It wasn't exactly planned — any part of it, really, all just came up on its own or spiraled into place after years of floating in the air. Adam came from his final year earlier than expected — than Ronan expected, really, apparently Adam planned it to be a surprise — having taken a heavier workload in the first semester and finishing his dissertation in March. He had told Ronan he would miss Easter and he did, coming only two days later.

It was the beginning of April and the weather that week had been unexpectedly good and they sat in the fields, Ronan was braiding his third flower crown — one had been eaten by Opal, one was on Adam's head.

"It's so warm in Virginia," Adam said, directing his face into the sun. He always complained about Harvard being cold, no matter how many blankets and sweaters Ronan had sent him. "It's the most dream-like part here. We should get married in spring and have a wedding in the meadows, it would look like from a Victorian novel."

He said it way too casually to justify Ronan's heart attempting to escape his ribcage at such alarming speed. He also didn't add anything, just leaned further on his elbows, touching Ronan's shoulder with his forehead.

Ronan didn't even think before he got up, making Adam fell on his face, and told him, "Fucking wait here and don't move even an inch."

It took him twenty minutes to run to the house, throw away all the cookbooks from the shelf in the kitchen — the shelf Adam was forbidden from touching after his third attempt at crêpes — grab a small cardboard box from behind the backboard, and run back. Making his way through the meadow, he wished he had put it in something better-looking and not just left it in the same box he picked it up from the jewelry shop.

Adam was still sitting where he left him, this time with Opal on his knees, showing her how to finish the flower crown Ronan abandoned.

Ronan felt his hands sweat.

He kneeled down.

Adam stared at him, his arms going limp around Opal. He frowned. "Ronan?"

He said it so softly Ronan could feel his heart growing at the sound.

When he resized the ring — one of his mom's, one of the few she wore outside of her wedding band — he had told himself that he will make a plan. At first, he thought about taking Adam to Lindenmere, but they were there too often for it to be something special and Ronan wanted it to be something special. He thought about restaurants and hikes and dreamt fireworks and writing it on a cow's fur and going on a boat on the lake. He thought about putting the ring in a birthday cupcake — although with Ronan's luck, Adam would choke on it — or in a flute of champagne — Adam didn't drink alcohol — and he thought about a hundred different foods he could cook for him. It all didn't seem right, seemed overly cheesy or normal or conventional, and they were anything but that.

Adam was anything but that.

So Ronan kneeled there, in the meadow full of spring flowers and fresh grass, and both of his knees were getting wet from the muddy ground and he had the most gorgeous view of Adam's face drawn by a flower crown made of buttercups, golden ragworts, and with Virginia bluebells falling onto his forehead and ears. With his warm complexion and light freckles and even warmer blue eyes, Adam looked like the spring personified.

They had to marry in spring.

"Fuck," he said finally. "I don't know what to—how to..."

Adam turned around to the side more, Opal's head falling more onto his right shoulder. They were both looking at him, the same shade of blue piercing through Ronan's soul.

Adam raised one hand to his face, stroking his thumb over Ronan's cheekbone. "Hey," he said. "You don't have to."

He did have to.

Ronan ripped the box, throwing the scraps on the ground.

"Marry me."

Adam's hand moved down, curving around Ronan's nape. "Of course."

It wasn't a question and it wasn't a yes, but—

But it was enough and they were engaged. And Adam Parrish, the boy of his dreams, was his fiancé.

When they got back home — and Ronan hadn't let go of Adam's hand the whole time, even when Ronan protested saying she wanted them to swing her back and forth between them — Adam stopped in the foyer.

"Go wait in the kitchen," he said and went upstairs in a quick stride.

So Ronan did. He made them coffee and sat down, suddenly feeling nervous, the tension fleeting back into his tightly wound shoulders.

Adam came back downstairs, sat on the other side of the table with a grin.

"I got you a ring too," he said, lying a velvet box onto the table. "I was going to propose on my graduation day."

He opened the box. It was a simple black gold ring with Celtic engraving but it must have cost at least a month of unstopping hard work, divided between a longer time — it meant so much more if one knew the true value.

The room suddenly seemed very quiet, Ronan could only hear the humming coming from their old fridge and his own thoughts sprinting through his head.

Ronan started crying.

It was an involuntary response. He didn't know he needed it, needed to know that Adam wanted it as much as Ronan did, that he wanted Ronan to feel as special as Ronan wanted Adam to feel. He thought that it was implied, that he was the one to notice when Adam was ready and he was the one to propose then.

Adam was still smiling. "Is that a yes?"

"Have I ever fucking said no to you?"

Adam licked his lips. "Well, yesterday, I asked you to do the laundry and—"

"Just give me the ring, Parrish."

So Adam takes it out of the box — which was way prettier than Ronan's because it was Adam and Adam paid attention to every detail, always — grabs Ronan's hand with an unbelievable gentle touch and puts the ring on his finger.

He leaned over the table, holding Ronan's hand in both of his, and pulled it closer to his lips, kissing Ronan's in slow and light as a feather movement.

Ronan couldn't stop crying for good fifteen minutes.

The next Sunday, Ronan asked Adam to go to the mass with him. He had never asked before but Adam sometimes came with him — when he was back from Harvard only for the weekend and didn't want to leave Ronan even for an hour — and Ronan always celebrated it deep within his heart. He didn't tell him why he wanted him to come with him.

The mass ended, people started to leave and Ronan went the opposite way, to Father Cohen who was still standing at the front of the altar.

"Boys," he said, despite the two of them being twenty-three. "I haven't talked to you in a while. How are you doing?"

Adam opened his mouth to say something that was probably polite and good-natured, but Ronan said instead, "When is the closest opening for a marriage ceremony?"

Adam turned around and raised his eyebrow. Father Cohen didn't look any less surprised than him either, wide-eyed, his mouth open but not making a sound.

"Let me grab our calendar," he said after a very long silence. He was clearly stunned that Ronan, who he had known since he was about two and was brought to church for the first time, was getting married.

Ronan was stunned too.

He left to the sacristy in a daze and Adam, as soon as he was out of sight, asked, "What are you doing?"

"What? You said you want a spring wedding. It's spring."

Because St. Agnes was a small church, Father Cohen gave them a list of dates that weren't open, rather than the open ones. It consisted of a whole total of three dates in the next three months, the first open spot being in two weeks.

Ronan said they would take it.

They — or rather Ronan, seeing as Adam was still so shellshocked that Ronan felt like he was tricking him into this marriage — thanked him and Ronan gave Father Cohen Adam's email to forward them any documents they needed to fill.

They were outside the church and Adam still didn't say a word.

"If you don't want to get married now—"

"Do you know how much paperwork it's going to be?" Adam interrupted him.

Ronan blinked, very slowly and — if he dared to admit — fondly. This was the man he chose to marry. The man who agreed to marry him. Who asked him to marry him back.

"Are you fucking serious?" he asked. "This is what you're worried about? We just have to get the marriage license and we're done."

Done sounded like this was something Ronan was forced into.

"Yeah, but I'll have to call DMV, SSA, my bank," Adam listed off. "I'll have to pay for the last-minute change of my diploma if Harvard even lets me change it so close to graduation."

He wasn't making sense. "What? Are they suddenly adding married to on a diploma?"

Adam scrunched his eyebrows in the manner that always made Ronan want to kiss his forehead — he would always do that when dealing with someone stupid.

"No, but I'd prefer not to deal with the explanation why my name doesn't match the one on my diploma to any of my future employers."

Oh. Oh.

"You want to—like, take my name?"

Adam smacked his side. "Don't be an idiot," he said, frowning. "Of course I—I mean, unless you don't want me to—"

"I want you to," Ronan replied instantly.

"Well, then you're helping me fill all those documents."

They filled the paperwork Father Cohen sent Adam and went to the courthouse the next day, getting a marriage license and leaving it, and newly bought wedding bands, in church on the way home.

Then came the first problem — telling everyone.

They had been sitting on the couch, both of their phones on the coffee table in front of them, and argued about who was going to tell Gansey.

It was, technically, not a big deal. Gansey would be, in the end, happy for them, but in the end was the keyword here — it'd be proceeded by a rant, a scolding, lots of detailed questions like, why didn't you tell us sooner, and none of them knew how to answer them. Calling Blue would result in the same outcome, as Gansey was bound to butt into the conversation once Blue forwarded the message.

"Maybe we just don't fucking tell him and the maggot," Ronan suggested.

"And how is gonna know to show up for the wedding?"

Ronan groaned, hitting his forehead on Adam's shoulder. Repetitively.

"Maybe I'll just text him," he added. "Or you text him. He's used to being ghosted by you after you text him."

This wasn't actually such a horrible idea so Ronan took his phone, typed out something that would have minimal detail, showing it to Adam, who retyped something else.

The final result was, bring maggot and cheng next sunday to the barns at 1. wear something nice.

Ronan sent the text. Gansey called him within three minutes. Ronan declined the call. Gansey called Adam after another two minutes, which he also declined. Instead, Adam texted Maura, with the same but slightly more polite message.

It left them with Declan and Matthew.

"They are your brothers," Adam said when Ronan suggested he could call them.

"I texted Dick," he countered. "It's your turn."

"It's your turn," Adam mocked. "Is this how it's gonna be for the rest of our life?"

Ronan grinned. The rest of their life sounded so good. "Yeah, get used to that."

Adam bit his lip, holding himself back from grinning back. "Fine."

Adam texted Declan, Church is at 1 30 next week, be at the Barns at 1, kind of lying. The important thing was, Ronan didn't have to deal with Declan. If he was the one to send such a text, Declan would inevitably start calling him as soon as he read it, not giving up until Ronan picked up or straight up driving from DC just to know what was going on.

Which put them on Sunday next week, preparing for the arrival of everyone.

They had prepared the meadow the day before, taking a dreamt stretchable tent there and carried the grill there, among with the living room table and chairs and a dreamt stereo that connected to Spotify despite now electricity or no Internet connection. The field now turned mostly yellow, with occasional bluebell here or there, but it was still an amazing view — Ronan planned to make another flower crown for Adam, once they were already married. Right now they left the tent without food, watched by Chainsaw who soared in circles, sitting on the table from time to time.

It was cozy, probably cozier than even the smallest wedding receptions were but Adam would never agree to have a big party in some rented venue and Ronan hated any venue he had looked up online. It suited them.

Opal was ready, dressed first out of the three of them. She had insisted she wanted to be a flower girl — they didn't even know she knew what that was — and allowed them to put herself in a better-looking pair of culottes and a white shirt.

She had a fool basket of dandelions and buttercups ready — hidden, so she wouldn't eat it before they even left for the church — and probably was already muddy, seeing as she left the house as soon as Adam told her she was done.

It left Ronan and Adam, squeezing in front of the main bathroom mirror while they both put on their suits.

"So, how pissed Dick will be?"

Adam didn't look at Ronan when answering, concentrating on making his tie straight instead. Ronan planned to crook it again as soon as he was done.

"Gansey? He'll be fine, he is used to you, isn't he," he said. "I'm more worried about Blue. Or your brother."

Declan. It was clear he meant Declan.

They had become better over the years, to the point that Ronan could finally, without any guilt or any anger, call him family. The first time he had referred to him just as his older brother and not his dickhead older brother, about two years ago, Ronan was taken aback but not with an unpleasant aftertaste. They talked about the stuff that made them angry and about their dad, but he still could easily come off as judgemental towards Ronan's impulsive life decisions and Ronan had never really learned what he thought about him and Adam, and those two things were unvaryingly connected in this case.

"You don't think he will, like, leave?"

Adam turned around, his full attention on Ronan. His face softened in a way that used to be foreign as he took Ronan's face into his hands.

"No, Ronan, of course he won't," he said. "I'm sure he's going to have gray hair before he turns twenty-seven, but he won't leave. Jordan would make him sleep on the couch if he did."

He smiled at Ronan, the reassuring kind of smile that was mostly transmitted through his eyes.

Ronan grabbed one of his palms and kissed it. Then he crooked Adam's tie.

Fifteen minutes before everyone was about to arrive, Ronan and Adam sat down on the porch. Opal was sitting in the grass behind the banister, her pants already a bit muddy, observing snails. Or maybe eating them.

The first car came, the obnoxious orange of it visible from the beginning of the long driveway, followed by a shiny black Volvo.

Adam and Ronan stayed seated until all seven of them were out of the cars.

"What is going on?" Blue asked.

Hennessy, Jordan, Declan, and Matthew were standing on the right of the stairs to the porch, and Gansey, Cheng, and Blue were standing on the left. Ronan felt surrounded, especially with Adam now pushing his lower back and staring at him like he wanted Ronan to begin.

Ronan was not going to begin. "You go first, Parrish."

"You shithead," he grumbled under his breath, sending him a death glare. "Can't believe I'm signing myself for an eternity of this."

Ronan's grin widened.

Loud enough for everyone to hear it, Adam said, "We're getting married."

"What?"

"In half an hour," Adam added.

And the chaos erupted.

Matty, bless his heart — and Cheng, but without the blessing — was as excited as if it was his wedding, Blue was asking, again and again, how could they not tell her, and Gansey and Declan kept on asking, shouting over each other, whether this was a joke. Hennessy had to step away because she was laughing so loud.

"I hate this," Adam told him, close to his ear. "Why did we decide to get married again?"

"So you can have a brand new name and steal my fortune?" he said, nudging him with his elbow. He got a beautiful chuckle as a reward. "Cover your ear, baby."

Ronan came to the agreement with Adam — after an argument about Murder Squash in the car — that Adam's hearing was to be prioritized and he was to avoid ear-splitting noises at all costs. So no sudden, loud noises around Adam.

Adam covered his ear and stepped aside.

"SHUT UP," he shouted with the voice of someone who trained traditional Irish singing for ten years, making everyone quiet down. "We're getting married, end of the story. You can now move along with the crowd or leave."

Ronan hoped nobody left.

Nobody left, but everyone did shut up. Blue, Gansey, and Declan were all looking like they wanted to say something still, and Jordan now looked as amused as Hennessy.

Adam stepped up closer to the stairs, grabbing Ronan's hand on the way. "Gansey, you're going to be our witness."

Ronan squeezed his hand. "And you, Dickwad," he said, clearly looking at Declan, "are our second witness."

There was a very long silence when everyone stared at Ronan as if he grew a second head, Declan, in particular, like he was about to cry. Adam squeezed his hand.

When they discussed who they wanted to be the witness at their wedding, they agreed on Gansey immediately. Declan was Ronan's first choice for the second person, Blue was Adam's. Adam wasn't surprised, even expected that apparently, but Ronan realized that while his and Declan's relationship was getting better, there was a lot that they would never fully leave behind. Ronan didn't mind that and this was supposed to convey it without using the words. Clearly, it was a very bold statement.

"I told you I should have put on a suit," Gansey broke the silence, turning to Blue. "I can't go to church just in a shirt." He had dress pants and a white shirt on.

"Jesus fuck, Dick, you're not walking Adam down the aisle, you don't need a three-piece suit," Ronan said, hoping they have somehow omitted the rant and the scolding for now.

"Yeah, but Declan might walk Ronan," Adam added with a smirk. Ronan squeezed his hand hard enough to be uncomfortable, but he didn't budge, continuing, "Opal wanted to be a flower girl so someone has to do it."

Declan still didn't say anything.

Everyone packed back into their cars, Adam managed to put Opal in her car seat without getting the mud on his white suit while Ronan grabbed her flower basket from the house.

In the church — where Calla, Maura, and Dean were already waiting — the two of them left Opal with everyone and went to Father Cohen. After that, Adam told him he would go to the bathroom before the ceremony began and asked Ronan to watch that Opal didn't eat the flowers.

"Hey," he spoke up before Adam left. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

He tapped his cheek and Adam chuckled.

"I'll be back in less than five minutes," he noticed.

"Don't care."

Adam rolled his eyes. Ronan leaned in and Adam kissed him on the cheek.

"I'll be back. In less than five minutes."

"I'm counting," Ronan told him.

He was left alone in front of the altar, what with almost everyone sitting down, Gansey having Blue adjust Dean's tie under his collar — it was too long to ever fit him properly — and with Father Cohen back at the sacristy.

It, unfortunately, left Ronan alone with Declan. "Ronan," he said.

"Yes, this is my fucking name."

He made a face. "Can you be serious for a moment?"

Ronan could, if he wanted to, but right now, he wasn't in the mood.

"Do you really want me to—to be your witness?"

This was exactly why Ronan didn't want to tell him about the wedding.

"You just have to sign your name on a stupid piece of paper," Ronan said, which was technically the truth but also not really. "It's not a big deal."

And Declan didn't say anything, just stared at Ronan with a blank face. If he wasn't so used to it, it'd make him fidget.

And then he hugged Ronan. It wasn't even the arm-clapping-his-back hug, it was the arms-around-shoulders and I'm-not-letting-you-go hug that he used to give Ronan when he didn't want to go to elementary school.

Over Declan's shoulder, he saw Jordan, giving him a two-handed thumbs up. Ronan hated all the weirdos in this family equally.

Which meant not at all.

"You will get snot on my jacket if you start crying," he said. It was probably too late for that.

Before he knew it, Matty was sandwiching the both of them in between his arms with a grip of someone who played in a college league lacrosse team, squeezing them to the point that both Declan and Ronan had to protest. Together.

Adam came back in front of the altar with Father Cohen in tow.

Ronan stood on the left side, Adam stood on the right. Declan was behind Ronan, Gansey behind Adam. Opal, right now holding their rings on a cushion that was tucked into her flower basket, was in between them.

Ronan smiled and Adam smiled back.

The ceremony began.

#pynch fic #pynch #trc #the raven cycle #my writing #my fics

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marcythewerewolf · 7 years

Note

I don't know if you take requests for fanfics or not but I thought I'd ask: do you think you could write something like the aftermath of LoS with the blackthorns? Waiting 2 years is gonna kill me, and there's hardly any ff of them. If you don't though I'm sorry for asking!!!!

(I do do requests, thank you for asking so nicely. Been a while since I stretched my fanfic writing fingers.

It took me a while to get this out, mostly because it ended up a lot longer than I expected, so. 4k of post LOS Blackthorns (and the Wild Hunt) under the cut. Featuring funeral pyres, running from the law, shell shocked war children, Diana and Gwyn being lowkey cute in a highkey horrible situation, and Helen and Aline staying with their family.)

It was Helen who got them out of Idris. Helen who first realized how dangerous the situation around them was becoming, Helen who pulled them to their feet and pulled them together and saved them.

Julian refused to leave Livvy’s body, so Mark helped carry her corpse out onto the chaotic streets. Aline led, using force of personality and her mother’s name to force them through the line of guards around the Gard. Dru held up the still shivering Ty and Kit hovered trying to look helpful but instead just coming across as shellshocked. He kept running into people.

Diana and Cristina and Emma were running security, weapons out, keeping threats at bay, shielding the half faeries and the dead girl in their midst from view. If Mark and Helen had been getting terrible looks before, now they were the focus of undiluted hatred. The Blackthorns had brought evil amongst their midst, and they were probably going to be arrested as soon as everyone started thinking right again. It was best to get to safety before the hubbub settled down.

“We need to leave,” Julian whispered, “We need to get Tavvy and go.”

“Where?” Helen asked, “They’ll find us. We should go back to the Penhallows and wait for Jia.”

Emma snarled, sounding like a demon in the night. “Waiting for the Clave never works. Robert was our best chance and he’s dead. I don’t know politics, but I can’t imagine things are going to shake out well for us.” She jumped back, out of the way of a fully armoured warrior sprinting up the street toward the Gard

“Livvy…” Ty mumbled, and Julian reached over to wrap a hand around his limp wrist, the closest thing to comfort he could manage while keeping them moving.

“It’s okay, baby,” Julian promised, to the ashen Dru as well as his little brother. “We’re going to be fine.

Diana had been mostly silent up until that point, blood stained and contemplative as they traipsed down the streets, hurrying along to Diana’s Arrow where Tavvy and the Lightwood-Bane children were tucked away. Now, she spoke up.

“We are, because we’re going to call Gwyn.”

For a second, there was silence. Then:

“Gwyn the Hunter? Kidnapped Mark Gwyn?” Aline looked dubious at best. The events of the past few weeks had been so speedy, it was easy to forget how quickly they’d all happened.

“He’s on our side,” Mark said, absently. “Though he probably isn’t going to be happy about us misplacing Kieran. Turns out he’s super into tattooed Shadowhunter teachers.” The words sounded like they were coming from someplace else entirely. With his little sister’s corpse in his arms, Mark didn’t seem to be the most emotionally present. Still, Emma had to giggle, at him, and at Helen and Aline’s confusion, and at the whole situation. It was awful, it was all so awful.

“It bet he’s really tired of hearing from us,” she said, as Diana’s Arrow came into view.

Julian was starting to come back to himself, starting to remember his instincts. “If we’re leaving Idris, we’ll want supplies. Money, weapons, clean clothes, food. We’ll need a sheet for Livvy’s body, before Tavvy sees her. I don’t want him getting scared.”

Kit stumbled into Emma and out of his reverie. Poor kid probably hadn’t seen a lot of death before. “I could probably keep an eye on Octavian and the babies,” he offered. “Since you guys are better at weapons and stuff than I am.”

“I’ll help,” Cristina cut in quickly, clearly not trusting Kit alone with three small children. “I think one of the Lightwoods is with them, we’ll need to distract them. I can do that too.”

Diana glanced around the empty street thoughtfully. Not all Idris houses were always occupied, especially in times like these. “There isn’t much in the way of supplies in the store itself, however I think under the circumstances I could borrow food from a few neighbours.”

“I can run back home and grab clothes for the little ones,” Aline said smartly, already eyeing the distance to the Penhallow townhouse “It’s not far, and if I wear a glamour I don’t think anyone will notice me.”

“Someone should go with you,” Helen insisted, taking her wife’s hand. It was an unspoken given that Helen herself couldn’t. That would be asking too much of the world. They’d had enough luck already

Emma volunteered quickly.

It was amazing, how fast Shadowhunter instincts, drilled in since childhood, took over in a crisis. There was no time for tears when you needed to survive. Only Kit was still crying, and he was doing it silently, holding onto Ty’s arm tightly like the other Blackthorn twin might disappear too.

Ty wasn’t a good Shadowhunter. He was never going to be. It wasn’t in his bones, or his brain. There were many things exceptional about him, but the pieces of his mind primed to cope with a crisis weren’t very high on the list. He looked like a dead man walking, pale as the grave, grey eyes flat in his thin, empty face.

They’d all seen him have meltdowns before, loud and catastrophic. This was the quiet period afterwards, where all systems were on minimal power, his entire head trying to recuperate from something so groundshaking it had hurt him at his core. Dru was holding him lightly, in case he needed to not be touching anyone, because she knew a little better than Kit did.

Within fifteen minutes, the Lightwood-Banes had been sent away, they had bags packed up, and Tavvy was being consoled by Julian. Livvy’s body was laid out on Diana’s kitchen table, wrapped all in white.

Diana was upstairs, talking to Gwyn, (Privately, she had insisted) and while she was gone, Julian did a headcount. It was more complex than it had once been.

Once it had gone, Emma, the twins, Dru, and Tavvy.

Tavvy and Dru, check, sobbing quietly on the couch with daggers and their knapsacks packed.

Emma, right next to him, a steadying presence, so solid he felt he might start orbiting around her.

The twins… at the table, more or less. One of them at it, head bowed, one of them on it, still as the grave.

Angel help them, Livia. Julian still couldn’t fully process it without his mind turning to thoughts of fire and blood and Annabel’s hapless destruction and the Cohort’s endless cruelty. That wasn’t helpful. Revenge didn’t keep the children safe.

There were more now too. There was Kit, standing over Ty and staring at thin air with a slightly alarmed expression, face working with unspoken words. Poor boy probably hadn’t seen a lot of deaths before, certainly not of someone his own age. Livvy had liked him so much too.

Mark and Helen were standing together, their stolen siblings returned to them too late, curly heads bowed together, talking fast with their hands. Aline was nearby, sharpening a sword. She looked reluctant to abandon her mother, but if Helen was going, Aline was going with her, and Helen would not be parted from them again. That was an unspoken certainty. Julian had lost two sisters and gotten one back and he would never let anyone take her away again.

Cristina was by the front window, on lookout duty and doing a very poor job of it, because she kept checking her phone. She was worried about Diego and the missing Kieran, Julian knew, but the chances of two people last seen disappearing together into a portal getting in touch via text seemed slim.

Emma’s hand felt like a brand on the skin of his arm when she touched him. “Jules, Diana is coming.”

She was, descending the stairs like a movie star in a crisp grey tunic, with solid battle leathers underneath. There was a bag slung over her shoulder, and she was looking around the shop with regret.

Almost everyone, except the out of it Kit and Ty, looked over at her.

“I talked to Gwyn,” she said simply, “He’ll meet us in Brocelind forest. We’re going to need horses.”

The meeting place decided on was one of the blighted spots Helen and Aline knew of but the Cohort probably didn’t, hidden from angelic magic, but therefore vulnerable. Going there was an act of sacrifice. It meant they had little power except that they made themselves. They were putting their trust in Gwyn, utterly, but they didn’t have a lot of other options.

Cristina and Emma had secured a half a dozen horses from a Clave outpost on the edge of the city, through a combination of clever lies and flat out theft, while everyone else snuck out between the demon towers. That was one of the advantages to all being Shadowhunters, more or less. The wards weren’t made with them in mind.

Leaving Livvy behind was unacceptable, so they wrapped her in winding sheets and Julian and Emma cradled her stiffening form between them. She was heavy in death, but not especially big, even for a fifteen year old. If she’d lived, she probably would have grown. Now she was frozen, five foot even, petite, and bloodless with the handle of the Mortal Sword still lodged in her chest. (Another reason why someone was going to come after them soon. Julian increasing suspected there was a coup going on, because there the streets were empty and there was a lot of noise coming from the Gard, but that could only distract everyone for so long.) Taavy couldn’t even look at her. Helen was holding him close, and he was clinging to her even though he only remembered her from phone calls and Christmas letters.

They rode, doubled up where they needed to be. Shadowhunter steeds were sturdier than the faerie kind, made to carry fully armed warriors. They could handle a few teenagers and some luggage, at least for a short voyage. Mark proved oddly terrible at handling skittish mortal horses, made of flesh and blood and requiring saddles and other cumbersome things, but most of them had some riding lessons.

It turned out it felt a lot less like running away if you did it on a horse, with your little brother in front of you, shaking with fear but refusing to say a thing because Shadowhunter children never cried out in a crisis.

Gwyn had brought his hunters with him to the blighted place and they took in the assembled group with some alarm.

There were mutters, some calls out to Mark (friendly and derogatory alike), and, as they dismounted, a steady count.

“Eleven!” one of the hunters finally said loudly, once they were all down. “Eleven shadowhunters, counting our own dear Blackthorn. Gwyn, Gwyn, Gwyn, what a sight you have brought to our eyes.”

“Eleven and a body,” another faerie clear voice corrected. Ty flinched and Emma’s hand went for Cortana before Mark restrained her.

“Nine and two of our own kind,” said someone more charitably, “That girl has the look of the Lady Nerissa, for I knew her well.” Now it was Helen’s turn to pause, shrink back.

Gwyn silenced them all with a wave of his hand and dismounted on the ash that passed for earth. The place seemed haunted, even more so since it was so close to Lake Lyn. As soon as they’d entered the circle of ruin, they’d all felt the same unsettling chill in their bones.

“Diana Wrayburn,” he said, softly, kissing her hand. “Mark Blackthorn. Where is Kieran?”

“We, uh…” Mark said, looking guilty and terrified. He and Cristina had both sent fire messages to Diego and Kieran before they’d left, both had the same loving worry on their faces. Kieran was a knot of a person (faerie) but the affection they felt for him was clear and real.

“When conflict broke out in the Hall of Accords, my cousin knew it would be blamed on the fair folk,” Cristina said quickly. “We think he tried to get Kieran to safety. They were seen leaving, but we haven’t been able to get in touch with them. We’re still trying to figure out where they went, but it’s difficult. That’s one of the reasons we wanted to speak with you.”

Gwyn considered her with his serious, bi-coloured eyes, one as pale as the day and the other inky as night. “And what could I do, little rose bush, that a Shadowhunter could not?”

“If you are worried about Kieran,” Cristina said carefully, “You could check the Rosales family home in Oaxaca. It is where Diego and Jaime grew up. It has sheltered the hadas before, perhaps he hoped it could now. I am sorry to say, we don’t have a lot of resources at the moment. We’re kind of…” she gestured at their state, the panicking horses at the edge of the ring of ruin, the tangle of children- Dru and Kit and Tavvy and Ty and Julian- sitting exhausted on the forest floor, watched over by Emma. Aline and Helen looked barely any better. They were adults, but they had spent most of their adulthood in a prison. Now they were just tired and holding onto each other.

“Annabel Blackthorn killed the Inquisitor,” Diana said bluntly. “She did so in front of the entire Council. She killed her own blood as well, the Blackthorns’ sister.” Raw grief bled from Diana’s voice, but she at least had the self control to keep talking. “After that… fears for Kieran’s safety weren’t unfounded on Diego Rosales part, if that was his motive. Frankly I’m not sure if it’s safe back there for Julian or the rest of the children, much less Mark or Helen.”

“Shadowhunter politics,” Gwyn said coldly, but he did seem sad. “One of your own children is dead and all you can do is threaten more of them. Though I wish I could lend you all my strength, I am not sure there is much aid I can render here, Lady Wrayburn. Would that I could take you all into the Hunt… but I suspect my hunters might object.”

There were mixed jeers from the hunters behind him, weighted with a healthy dose of fear. They did not take Gwyn lightly, but they were fair folk and that meant they tended towards a sort of organized anarchy, where opinions had weight.

“Besides, as frightening as Shadowhunters are, I do not think your gaggle of children would do well among our number.”

“Mark was bad enough!” a hunter shouted. Gwyn rolled his eyes, a surprisingly human gesture from a faerie lord.

“Hark, I cannot keep order among them now. I fear Emma Carstairs might destroy discipline utterly. So, what favour can I lend you that is within my means and does not contradict the interests of my Hunt, my lady?”

There were more mutters now, a general sense that this was more blatant favouritism than Gwyn had shown in centuries and it was fascinating to watch. Somewhere inside the mass of bodies and hooves and inhuman features, people were taking notes.

The Wild Hunt was fanning out as well, moving closer and closer to the huddle of the Blackthorns and company. One of them smiled toothily at Helen, who didn’t pause before snapping back with her dainty, pearly teeth. In the moonlight, her ears seemed even sharper. A faerie on a gazelle whistled appreciatively.

The horses were starting to spook in the presence of all these not-horses, and Emma had to go and flex her limited equestrian skills to tie them to some of the less sickly looking trees. As she did, a faerie man with broad shoulders and a beard full of moss sidled over her her.

“Art thou Emma Carstairs?” he asked. All of the fey had a gift for tongues, but he had a distinct accent. Scottish, maybe, or something broader.

“I art,” she said, shrugging her shoulders until the uneasy cold lifted someone from them. If this was going to be a fight, she wanted to go into it swinging.

“You bested the Unseelie King’s champion?”

“I did.” Emma confirmed uneasily.

He clapped her across the shoulders so hard she stumbled forward. “Good on ye, girlchild! He’s a levereter, indeed.”

She retreated, unsure if the endorsement of a suspicious faerie in the courts’ equivalent of a prison gang was a good thing or not. Having seen the Seelie and Unseelie, she was inclined to say it was.

When she returned to Julian and his pile of Blackthorns (and a still distracted Kit), Diana was just finishing up her negotiations.

“The Los Angeles Institute is abandoned,” she reported. “The Hunt will take us there and then take their leave.”

“Better than Uber,” Emma whispered, and Cristina smothered a giggle.

Julian stood, hefting Taavy onto his hip even though he was too big really to be carried. “Wait! Before we leave, we- we need to…”

He was looking at Livvy’s body, laid out in the green grass the bordered the place where death began.

“We should burn her,” Helen finished, saving her little brother again. “We should give her a proper Shadowhunter funeral.”

Diana didn’t look convinced. “I’m not sure we have the time-”

“No.”

Ty’s voice was hoarse, as if he hadn’t used it in years.

“She was a warrior,” he told them firmly. “We have to burn her, now. Or else- or else-” Annabel’s haunted eyes lingered in their minds. The Black Book was missing, necromancy was a real and present threat.

Kit took his hand.

Gwyn coughed, politely. “I know little about Shadowhunter funerals,” he said, “But I agree. It does not do to leave the honorably fallen on the battlefield for long.”

It was settled.

It wasn’t fair, Emma thought, that they had to bury their Livvy so far from home. None of it was fair. She wanted to scream, for Julian, for Ty, for the little girl she’d taught how to throw knives.

They should have burned her on the beach by the Institute, they should have taken her back, but that was a variable they couldn’t afford. Better to do it here.

Arthur hadn’t gotten a funeral with his family. The stupid Cohort had probably torched him in the backyard with barely an Ave Atque Vale for it. Andrew had been Forsaken, and the Clave had decided they shouldn’t give a proper funeral to him either. The Blackthorns didn’t deserve to go through that again.

The Hunt helped collect branches with a minimum of taunts. Helen and Aline took the body down the water, away from everyone else, and washed her. They came back with half the Mortal Sword and Livvy looking less bloody but still terribly, sickeningly dead. The white sheets stolen from Diana’s clung to her body, even after they’d been dried out and marked all over with runes for purification and burning and mourning.

There wasn’t the time for a proper ceremony, with white clothes and gold bands and runes sketched out. Mark and Julian and the Hunt built the pyre while Emma tried desperately to arrange Livia’s hair so she looked like a warrior who had fallen in battle and not a child in braids.

Ty was just staring. Dru had retreated, with a inconsolate Tavvy and Diana who seemed to be grieving in her own private way. Gwyn was with them, which was the only reason Emma wasn’t worrying. At some point he’d gone from an enemy to a stalwart ally.

Kit wasn’t looking at Livia’s body, but the air several feet behind Ty. He kept blinking away tears, but he was smiling. Emma thought maybe he was having an emotional crisis, but that was none of her business.

Julian came over from the edifice of wood being built just on the green side of the border between blight and Idris, where runes could be counted on to work. “It’s done as it’s going to be,” he said softly. He and Helen and Mark started to go to move her body, but Ty stopped them.

“A warrior is burned with a weapon,” he said steadily, tucking a knife between Livvy’s folded hands. He regarded his twin’s body for a second, looking at her blankly, like he couldn’t quite process what he was seeing. Then he leaned over, whispered something in her ear, and let his older siblings take her away.

The Wild Hunt wasn’t a traditional audience for a funeral, but it was clear they’d never seen a Shadowhunter one before and were behaving themselves out of curiosity, at least. Multicoloured, mismatched eyes, some glowing, some not, stared out at them from the woods.

Cristina had found wildflowers, Queen Anne’s Lace, mostly, for the bier in the living part of the woods. Livvy rested in a sea of lacy white, against which even her dead complexion had some tint. A double layer of sheets- only slightly pink with blood- covered up the ruin of her chest. Against that glimmered steel.

There were a lot of words you said at a Shadowhunter funeral, and then again there weren’t a lot at all. This wasn’t a Shadowhunter funeral though, it was a Blackthorn one.

For the third time that day, Helen took up her place as the eldest sibling, while Julian stood, helpless and shivering in Emma’s embrace. She stood up on tiptoes, kissed Livvy’s brow, and addressed the crowd.

“Most of you didn’t know my sister. I think, after so many years away from her, maybe I didn’t know my sister. You don’t need to know her to admire what she did. When her family was threatened, she was the first one forward. Older Shadowhunters shrank back, but she didn’t. She fought to protect the people she cared about, to protect the woman who stood with a sword in hand ready to kill, because she was family too. Livia Blackthorn was brave and she loved people so much. She died with the Mortal Sword in her chest.”

Helen held it up like a war trophy, shattered and shining. The Wild Hunt knew a good bit of theater when they were given it. They gasped appreciatively. Diana and Gwyn sighed in sync. Julian rocked back, holding Tavvy tight.

“She was fifteen. She liked lipgloss, and cute boys, and videos of kittens. She used to write me letters with pressed desert flowers in them and send Aline chapstick in the winter. Her name was Livia Blackthorn, she was brave, and she died.”

It was Mark who lit the pyre, when he got tired of the process of elimination. It went up with a dull whoomph of air being sucked in, and heat blasted everyone within ten feet. It was possible that Julian and Emma shouldn’t have put flammability runes on together.

Julian did another headcount as they mounted up to go back to Los Angeles and relative safety. It was possible they’d have to barricade themselves in there, but at least it was home.

Emma was next to him, warm like a fire and twice as angry. He could feel it, pulsing through their parabatai bond, a development he was too tired to be worried about at the moment.

Tavvy was in between them, small and skinny and damp. Riding with the Hunt without letting him go was going to be an interesting challenge.

Aline and Helen were talking to faeries, and not yelling yet, which he was counting as a win. They’d put themselves in charge of the miscellaneous bags gathered before they left Diana’s house and they were piled up around them like a fortress.

Mark and Cristina were trying to call Kieran again, and were being hassled by the Hunt as they did so. Things seemed to get decidedly less polite when Gwyn’s back was turned and at the moment Gwyn was distracted with the Idris horses. Diana was with him. They were talking, quietly, and quite possibly holding hands in the rising darkness.

Dru had tried to talk to some Hunters, had fared poorly, and then retreated back to the safety of Helen’s shadow, since Helen seemed to scare most of them. They were definitely holding hands, with the desperation of sisters who had been separated and were now determined not to let go.

Kit and Ty were off by themselves, talking softly. Well, mostly Kit was talking. Ty was listening, with an odd expression on his face. It was somewhere between relief and disbelief. Kit really did make him act strangely.

Before Julian could puzzle that out further, and hand fell on his shoulder, heavy and gloved. It was Gwyn, and his face was… not unkind. “Young Blackthorn,” he said, “Gather your troops. We must away.”

He was a Shadowhunter. All he really knew how to do was troop gather.

As they left Idris, Livvy was a column of fire behind them, lighting up the whole night sky.

#lord of shadows spoilers #lord of shadows #m writes #fanfic #the dark artifices #julian and emma are so messed up #on the plus side #livvy is definitely a ghost #anonymous messages

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grizzlefur · 7 years

Text

WWEm - Back Like a Recurrent UTI

In response to a comment from a reader, which is frankly one comment more than I ever thought I’d get, I’m dropping the interline punctuation. Be aware I may be switching to Comic Sans next week though.

Transmission date: Monday 5/Tuesday 6 June 2017.

Coming at you off the back of Medium-Strength Rules, this is THURSDAY AFTERNOON RAW!

so yeah, extreme rules was kind of crap like, i don't need it to be all barbed wire rope exploding table deathmatches, but that was honestly tamer than a lot of episodes of raw it's like waiting a fortnight for a jalfrezi and getting a shitty mushroom dopiaza or something (that's the subtitle of the dvd release, btw) (Extreme Rules 2017: The Shitty Mushroom Dopiaza of Wrestling) kkb took the belts, though, so that's good at least in any case, i should probably stop using this blog to bitch about ppvs that we're not watching and actually watch the show just kidding, it's my blog, i can do whatever the fuck i want NEXT UP: THE HIGHLY EFFECTIVE HABITS OF SUCCESSFUL LEAFCUTTER ANTS (2017, 7hrs 41mins) *daniel starts raw* dang ah well we'll get back to that particular gem we kick off with a dramatic slideshow of an entirely undramatic two-chilli rules main event if you haven't been keeping up with the results, joe won by stealing a pin opportunity and choking finn to death i have genuinely no clue how they're going to build a joe/brock feud without turning one of them, which would make no sense and be bullshit were the hardyz in the title sequence before? i am very unobservant, so it's possible jesus fuck, guys, you don't need to keep weaponising the pyro to see what i say we're back in the mohegan sun later, joe talks about life but now, here comes a bray to chop off your head or possibly declaim some eschatological craziness could be both who knows i'm wearing a SanItY shirt, i don't give a shit aww, apparently he's here to fight roman disappointing can he chop roman's head off? booker's still on announce, which is weird given that otunga was around to be on the pico de gallo rules preshow panel ok, bray's got a mic so at least we get some preaching before roman gets here apparently sunday was the beginning of the end, because bray will not be there to slay the beast because he was stabbed through the eye with his own sword of salvation but he's fine, because he's still a god (i'm not even paraphrasing) he's here to pass judgment on the guilty which includes basically everybody who isn't him he mentions roman, the arena roof levitates on the cloud of boos he's vowed to personally punish everyone, starting with roman now oh, and here he is personally, i would not enter a room with a man who had just levelled that particular bit of demagoguery at me but hey, i'm not roman reigns loving the guy on hardcam with the I CAME TO BOO ROMAN sign so did everyone else, it seems apocalyptic cult leader and self-proclaimed god vs big taciturn punch man which way is the heel/face divide even meant to go in this situation enormous boos, roman takes bray's mic, boos redouble apparently this kind of public hate is why roman is the guy sure, why not better than proclaiming yourself the BIG FIGHT man cannot tweet roman coldcocks bray, start the match bray nearly lands sister abigail within about six seconds that would have been fucking hilarious although it kind of feels like maybe bray should have a new finisher to fit this whole bringing judgment upon the guilty thing or maybe that's just my overly-narrative booking instincts who can say (that is definitely what it is) fuck off, daniel i'll rescind your fruit bowl privileges bray avoids a samoan drop through the incredibly advanced tactic of punching roman in the head repeatedly that's the kind of tactical nous you only get by anointing yourself with the burnt grave earth of your diabolic mistress as the saying goes did we really need to cut to that enormously wide shot where the camera's on the other side of a lighting rig several astronomical units away from the ring? like, we get that the mohegan sun's big no need to prove this at the expense of beign able to see shit if i wanted to watch insects wrestle while i shine a torch into one of my eyes, i could do that at home i'm going off on tangents a lot here because this match is slow as fuck roman is still creeped out to the point of a nearfall by bray's spiderwalk goes for a pin off an uranage, then takes roman to the top rope we could be here a while he does a few punches, roman headbutts him for longer than would seem necessary before turning it into a powerbomb roman cocks his hand, takes a couple tries to hit bray what happens if he cocks his hand and doesn't do anything with it? does he have to punch something to get rid of it before it goes off accidentally? or can he rack his forearm to eject a loaded fist? enquiring minds want to know anyway, while that muse was visiting me, bray heard roman going oooooooo and rolled out, took a driveby but punched roman's head off so it seems my earlier proposal was correct huh i can call murders better than matches bray goes for sister abigail, roman reverses into a superman punch and a really slow spear for the pin so yeah that happened meanwhile, someone in the crowd has leveraged all their crafting skills to make a sign informing us that BROCK LESNAR IS TICKLISH corey invents the adjective 'slaughterous' yeah, ok bray deserves new words end segment later on, we have joe doing a thing but next, we talk about the shitshow that was the 'extreme' women's title match "But can Bayley get EXTREEEEEME?" "No." but now, we have charly interviewing enzo and cass enzo's conscious, which is a change charly asks enzo about their match tonight with enzo and cass, he responds by creeping on charly and insulting corey's hair cass is insulted by the rumours that he was attacking his bro, promises to watch his back at all times and then they leave, and enzo returns to creep on charly alone good backwatching, colin what if charly was the mystery assailant it makes so much sense anyway, now we have a dull slideshow of the dull women's title match and photos of the one welt on bayley's back, which has made her take the night off somebody send jericho to talk to her in his curtain room/office, kurt is confused by his phone and here is alexa to present terms she wants a celebration of her entire life tonight because the this is your life segment went down so well outstanding kurt immediately comes back like fuck no that's an awful idea this is your life was dreadful and anyway you owe nia a title shot tonight alexa is none too pleased and slightly shellshocked but here's dean, aka 33% of the best bit of semi-notable rules and now, here's a very large man on a stool dressed entirely in scarves and fragments of scarves, with a song he wrote after seeing a leaf fall on the side of the highway

actual quote

it's a song about how dean sucks, basically

with a subtext about how elias deserves a title shot

dean's music interrupts it

it's an elias segment, so corey is SO ANGRY

dean does his hey dude hold on a second i just want to PUNCH thing

hits him until he goes away, and demands a title rematch but here's miz on the tron, like fuck no he's wearing a bow tie for the kickoff celebration of the ic title comeback tour and elias blindsides dean into his swinging neckbreaker and shouts at him, because sometimes you just gotta but up next, samoa joe the mohegan sun fans need something to cheer, or they're going to riot but first, dean storms backstage runs into kurt, asks for a ref in miz's dressing room kurt's like no, we've got a party planned and i'm scared of maryse, please go away no dean, don't go to miz's dressing room so kurt ejects him from the building it is just heel city so far oh hey, it's joe funny, that because the prevailing heel archetype at the moment is apparently 'large samoan man named joe' first shot of the match card graphics for great balls of fire, and it looks like shit if you're making a title graphic, maybe don't put a flashy effect around the word BALLS in the centre joe thinks brock ain't shit and wants to take everything he owns including his cushy non-wrestling schedule i think we all want brock's ability to draw a salary and have fans without doing shit joe also wants paul heyman, just for giggles oh hey, paul didn't see you there (largely because you were backstage and i don't have camera control) paul does his usual spiel, and still needs to check the definition of 'defending' does his usual thing of hi joe aren't you awesome can i come into your ring sir please don't hurt me but btw my client also thinks you yourself ain't shit does a soliloquy about worrying for a living, turns it into a jew joke sigh addresses the fact that brock/finn would have been a great story, while brock/joe is just going to be two large angry men trying to shoot kill each other paul does his usual great job of hyping both people in this match you're great, but my client's better paul shakes hands with joe, tries to leave, joe grabs him again and has an earnest face-to-face conversation he's so well-spoken he's like hey paul i understand you're just a legal representative but jsyk i'm about to choke the life out of you and this is exactly what it's going to feel like and then he does calm joe is the most intimidating joe refs get involved, but not until paul goes limp the crowd are unsure how to react to this assault joe shouts at the crowd some more, then leaves and we cut to ads on the sight of paul on the floor and we come back backstage, with kurt like THE FUCK DID YOU JUST DO at joe who's like i don't know would you like me to demonstrate loooooooom but here comes seth to shout at joe and intervene also he has a new merch vest to show off kurt's like hey this sounds like a good match this booking shit is easy joe sidles off with a dark look, end thing but now we have slater and rhyno facing the kkb with the former's entrance being helpfully played under the announce team talking earnestly about joe the announcers and graphics team need to decide whether they're sheamus and cesaro or cesaro and sheamus dramatic slideshow of the cage match, making it make even less sense lovely closeup of jeff's post-dive 'holy fuck why do i still do this to myself' face bell rings, instead of getting out of the ring, cesaro creates an novel distraction by running across the ring and sliding out in the opponents' corner while sheamus commences to beating the piss out of heath slater knocks them both down, goes for a hot tag, cesaro pulls rhyno off the apron, brogue for the pin so that was a thing i'll be honest, i just love seeing them with the belts and they get mic spots awesome sheamus is like hey guys look like we know how to do this wrestling thing who knew are you all happy the hardyz came back well then you're all twats you know who isn't happy they came back? the hardyz, who basically ain't shit they reiterate their claim to be the bar, cue music and celebration but here's tjp backstage runs into neville oh so coincidentally like congrats, but where the fuck is my title shot neville does his usual patience, young one thing, tjp will no longer take this shit neville is a man of his word, and he'll give tj his shot if he takes care of mustafa next cut for ads, and here's that match tj's straight in with the slightly excessive aggression, tries to crush ali's face across the corner with his foot and then a bunch of cool spots happen faster than i can type about them but that should go without saying, really thanks for slowing things down with that really long rest headlock, tj mustafa does his lovely top rope twist torndo ddt, tries for the inverted 450, tj reverses into a detonation kick for the pin again with the really short matches mustafa deserves better tj swaggers up the ring, neville's crazy pyro hits, he basically shits himself, it's hilarious he's like i'm sorry my apprentice, i talked to kurt but we can't have a match tonight i tried tj shouts at him, storms off, so he blindsides him and beats the shit out of him on the stage and then says he can have his shot tomorrow on 205 i say 'says', more 'northernly rants' cut for ads, and we come back with another shattered dreams production goldust's like excuse you did you steal my format and my chair it is ON motherfucker promises to bring the whole movie industry into his coming golden age how this will interact with bray's prophesied apocalypse is unclear but now, in the women's locker room, mickie and dana congratulate sasha on her dance moves alexa comes in, sasha nopes out of the room and alexa's like hey girls what do you think about nia cutting in line for the title what a bitch right dana and mickie are like lol no we'll be at ringside laughing at you announce spot, and kurt appears to call corey away for urgent business involving gesturing at his phone and looking annoyed i have no clue what all this is building to if there's been foreshadowing, i've missed it cole tries to ask him what that's all about, corey's like OH WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT kalisto's here he's lost the aggressively sculpted dragon mask, back to more of an nxt-era lucha dragons thing back in mexican colours and everything whatever happened to el local ...okay, i totally did not know he was ricardo rodriguez i wouldn't have known who that was back when i started watching nxt, to be fair thanks, internet huh anyway, back on the show, ...mike? ambushes kurt backstage to ask what the fuck's going on with those emails or w/e he uses slightly more professional language, because he's talking to his boss while i'm screaming semi-informed obscenities into the formless void of the internet kurt's like nope, anonymous dude, this is private and walks out of the arena and dean sneaks in the door just before it closes dean ambrose: back like a recurrent uti (his disappointing third album) and as we watch him come in, the revival just happen to be in the back of the shot caught it that time i pay attention sometimes but now it's kalisto/titus or actually titus knocking kaliso down and then shouting at apollo also tozawa is watching because titus wants him on the brand kalisto gets a rollup holding titus' trunks, apollo's like welp guess you asked for that one boss does some light motivational slapping, end segment but here are miz and maryse, even more dapper than usual and pan over to big cass, collapsed under a bunch of girders and shit enzo comes running in like whoa what happened way to stay together, guys cass presents enzo with a tacky chain that he presumably took off his attacker, enzo hugs his bro as we cut to ads and we come back on enzo being like okay well this is clearly a frame job and btw we have a match so can cass wrestle or what the answer is no but now we're back in the ring, with carpet and champagne and balloons and maryse and a guy in a teddy bear suit with a sign says CONGRATULATIONS who is totally not dean ambrose no sir but seriously, miz must fucking love balloons this ring is at imminent risk of lifting off and here is the man himself and a dramatic slideshow of the actually-great match complete with the nicest ref ever but yes, miz and maryse both look fucking great tonight just saying surprising number of you deserve it chants miz is immediately like fuck off you chant that for everyone just reminding us he's still a heel and all but yes, i do deserve it and here's a speech about how i'm redeeming the ic belt a toast to me "Ladies and gentlemen, please raise a glass...or, if you're in this arena, a styrofoam cup..." delivered perfectly miz thanks maryse for all this stuff, mentions the bear, she's like um i thought you ordered the bear then who's flying the plane so miz attacks the bear on principle and finales him welp, that bear's dead dramatically unmasks him, revealing...some dude he's like ...um, well at least you had a brush with celebrity, get out of here *whips him out of the ring* and now here comes a big present down the ramp miz is like well isn't this nice what could this be grabs a chair, beats the shit out of the present while maryse shouts at him to stop and it's a very dead grandfather clock and a very sad maryse tells mike he ruined the party, throws the mic at him, storms off and we are left with a very dejected miz, blaming dean for all his problems and having a paranoid breakdown at the crowd and the steadicam guy who's been following miz throughout takes his headset and hat off and hits miz with dirty deeds lovely slow realisation as the camera feed went up on the tron dean swigs some champagne, takes the bottle and leaves okay, that was really well done but now, we see enzo wandering dejectedly backstage looking for a partner and now we see the family who have good seats because of pizza including the wonderfully-named Enzo Shirtz but yes gallows and anderson are in the ring and here comes enzo all on his onesie does his intro, but it's not the same without a large man gesticulating behind him does his 4G well-connected joke again get new material, dude but he's found himself a new seven-foot man it's a biiiiiig shooooooooow although it would have been amazing if it was braun big show stands in the middle of the ring like what is this tiny rodent enzo tries to give him a pep talk with some semi-coherent jokes mixed in show has progressed from 'bemused' to 'angered' this is the most awkward thing, and i could not do it justice without rubbing a buttered weasel on the keyboard and...now show is doing a joisey-accented monologue with an extended ice age reference before spelling it out for them? what the fuck is in this drink well, the match has started, so i guess the talking can stop bell rings, anderson kicks enzo's soul out of his body standard swift hot tag to show, who...does all the normal show stuff chokeslam to anderson, into badaboomshakalaka except in the form of show military pressing enzo and then just rhowing him straight at anderson well, that was a thing that happened? lasted about 90 seconds anyway next up, women's title match but here are zo and show backstage run into cass, who's like hey funny how show disappears for weeks and then he's back when you need a partner casts suspicion about show being the culprit, enzo wants to give him a ride, but cass takes him away and now let's have a terrible blaxploitation segment full of film references yup but now mike? interviews alexa in the curtain room he asks if she regrets giving nia this shot, she's like i regret this show fuck off faceless dude and back to the arena, here's nia

cut to ads, and...now a weird bit where every version of this i can find appears to have overwritten the entire women's match with the elias segment from earlier the fuck, internet apparently it was pretty much what you might have thought - nia stomped all over alexa, dana and mickie pointed and laughed, and then alexa went and started a fight with those two for a dq win i would have liked to watch that, but guess that's not happening back to the actual show just in time for a graphic for the cruiserweight title match thank fuck i didn't miss that and apparently brock will be here next week i repeat, the champion will be on the show he supposedly leads novel idea so yes, here's everyone's favourite towel-sporting middle-aged-man-strangler and also seth, who didn't try to murder a doughy guy in a suit today bell rings, joe just gets down to punching seth's face in before even taking off his towel seth goes for a suicide dive, joe roundhouse kicks him as he comes out of the ropes, because he is way more flexible than he really should be this match is 10% seth doing cool cruiserweighty shit and 90% joe's hundred flavours of NOPE seth does a sling blade into a suicide dive, and it actually works this time and into a blockbuster because why stop at one signature and as i type that, there goes another suicide dive and then into a falcon arrow, as seth goes fuck you i can do strength spots seth goes up to the top rope, wyatt cut because fuck you lights go back up, seth looks around for a bray who is very much not here, joe blindsides him and coquina clutch until death and we fade on seth bleeding, joe strutting, WOMP WOMPing, and an entirely unnecessary reminder that brock'll be here next week do you have to ruin everything, wwe (don't answer that) smackdown will probably follow tomorrow, after i've gone and been an instrument of democracy but in the meantime, let me tell you about these ants -------------------- And if you enjoyed that, we hope you'll be back next week for our seminar on Following Pheromone Trails In An Increasingly Odoriferous World. right, now that that's done, it's probably time for some FRIDAY AFTERNOON SMACKDOWN! (i apologise in advance for any political jokes that slip through) (it's been a tough few days) and we open on a dramatic retelling of the women's five-way last week so yeah, women's mitb is probably going to be the big story this week i've had some of this show spoiled, but i honestly can't remember what, so that's sorted itself out and we're back in the present, and here come the shaney and also the five contenders are in the ring already and one of them's brought their creeper charlotte is looking ridiculously overdressed in her black sequin robe seven words in, shane gets a cheap pop in shane starts introducing them all, calls tamina "a two-time superstar" the fuck does that even mean the crowd love charlotte, but they love becky more apparently we're having a six-woman tag match later because why not have the entire division in the ring *again* drumroll as shane reveals the case it's basically the same, except silver and with some extra detailing on the logo no pink, thank fuck shane has a monologue about how dangerous the mitb match is, like he totally does with the men claims whoever has won this in the past has become champion somewhere, damien sandow is crying ellsworth calls shane out for mansplaining the mitb match, carmella gets a monologue until charlotte shouts her down leans on the genetic superiority thing, offers the other four a chance at brushing against greatness somehow a face? nattie calls her out for ripping off her father, proceeds to do the same to her uncle becky calls her on this, promises to rip off everybody's arms should be worth watching tamina gets to say words, which is novel but here comes naomi gets to do her whole entrance, because fuck this argument i'm the champ hypes the match like dang i wish i was allowed to be in this INTERRUPTING TRASH SAX lana is actually here in person (why do i like this music what is wrong with me) struts down the ramp, everyone in the ring just standing there like um fuck the what shane's like um hi? btw i was trying to do a thing, why are you in my ring shit, she's still russian and weirdly propositioning shane while also asking for a spot in the mitb match naomi just bursts out laughing like do you even go here why do you get to be in this match when you've had like none ever lana claims she can beat naomi, i smell a match for later shane's like seriously this is not how this show works lana has a tantrum in russian, flounces off up the ramp a+ flounce the crowd are loving her shane's like RIGHT back to the actual show that i run let's have this tag match Pun Murderer, FluoroTwerk and Queen Bitch vs Wrestling Mom, Thug Girl (and Douchey), and Obligatory Samoan lots of spots happened while i was working that out, but the gist is it's pretty even so far currently becky is alligator rolling carmella around the ring with her legs there's my thing i haven't seen before for the week apparently carmella taking the briefcase would be "like moving from HD televisions back to nanotubes" i'm going to go out on a limb and say jbl doesn't understand how science works interference by nattie and ellsworth lets tamina hot tag in and grind becky to pulp nattie tags in so she can walk over becky and taunt her teammates she'd be a much more effective wrestler with more wrestling naomi and carmella both hot tag in, the champ commences to cleaning house including three short-arm leg lariats to tamina because hey, if you can manage those, why not throw a bunch in nattie and tamina both come in to interfere, and here's lana to loom on the ramp and knock naomi off the apron, letting tamina superkick her for the pin stands at ringside looking smug like yes i did do that the fuck you gonna do and we go backstage, where shane runs into the andre the giant trophy mid-phone call like the fuck is this horrible public art and here's mojo to address the fact that he won that match and then nothing else fucking ever and be like should i maybe have been in the mitb match being the only person that's beaten jinder on smackdown and all shane offhandedly mentions luke harper, the crowd go wild shane's giving mojo a match against jinder to qualify for the ladder match because as ever, shane books this shit about twenty seconds in advance later we have owens/nakamura but next, styles/ziggler again and weirdly, by 'next', we don't mean 'after someone from the last segment has an encounter backstage' for once here is aj now they still don't want none although by the sound of the crowd, rochester, NY don't not want none dolph enters, recap video of dolph going over aj last week which i had totally forgotten looking more closely at the men's briefcase, the logo detailing's the same so yeah, it's just the colour that's different bell rings, we start going old-school mat wrestling turns out dolph has amateur technical skills that aren't just assaults to the crotch and also, he can dropkick you in the face dolph goes for the most blatant dirty pin, gets caught just before 3 and then a famouser actually connects for a nearfall i tend to rag on them repeating matches, but hey, this is a good match slow superplex setup actually resolves in an interesting way dolph counters a phenomenal forearm into another dirty pin attempt, aj reverses into a styles clash with like no setup, gets the pin because we're actually respecting finishers for the moment and from that to more fashion files noir tyler has a gritty monologue about the connections between prison and the catwalk and narrates himself looking at their clue board fandango returns from taking the cologne to the boys in the lab, only to find out that there's no boys and no lab, so he just tasted it himself as you do

and then this leads into the two of them repeatedly saying a mixture of 'cologne', 'colón' and 'clone' at each other with an increasing sense of incredulity this is like a fucking two ronnies sketch and i love it tyler finally gets it or not nor does fandango, which obviously means they must be close tyler offers a hopeful "Colóse?" and we cut to the new day and their ice cream cart what is life but still with the noir saxophone soundtrack they've come to the fashion police office and are bemused by how they turn black and white as they enter the new day have a case for them, the police say they'll take it, except the new day can't hear them because they're still speaking in their shared noir internal monologue and i am falling apart here big e is uncomfortable with how they're just staring at him but he's got them both rompers carried in his singlet, obviously fandango is not impressed "Listen, Big E, if that's even your real initial..." line of the night right there fandango is offended because they don't take bribes pan over to tyler, who is already wearing his like hey they're fashionable screw you the new day want intel on the usos for mitb breezango hand them five file boxes pull out a hoodie, ask the new day what they know about day one and why it is h xavier is trying so hard not to corpse the fashion police take the case, sax sting, they freeze frame until the new day are like ummmmmmm we'll just go while their noir monologue starts a 'new case rocks' chant that was amazing and you have no idea how many times i had to pause it to type but back in normality...oh wait, it's mojo i still can't hear his music without my brain adding zack's parts and here's a video to tell us that cena's coming back on july 4th, because of course he fucking is i thought jinder's music was different to usual but it's the singhs doing ring announce for jinder in english and punjabi and there's the music i was expecting i really like the ramp graphics they do for his entrance and he remains jacked as fuck somewhere in america, heath slater is watching smackdown and nxt and developing an inferiority complex it's just occurred to me that jinder's and aj's entrances have basically the same beat and structure somebody make me that mashup maybe this entrance is just they don't want none in punjabi that would be amazing i love how they've given jinder a properly long entrance with some gravitas and just generally how seriously they're taking him as a champion mojo is getting the upper hand with the power of HYPE (always upper case) every time jinder rolls out of the ring, the singhs are like omg boss are you ok can i get you a drink and they just have long arguments in punjabi and don't even try and let the average american in on it a singh distracts mojo and lets jinder just jump on his head a bunch doesn't take, because that's never where mojo keeps his brain flurry of offence later, jinder gets an eye rake in and khalass for the pin decent match by two underrated performers jinder's veins seem to have calmed down a bit too, which is reassuring jinder has a mic, the population of rochester is not pleased oh, fuck off your usa chants promises to kill randy and crush his dreams at mitb, leans on the hometown angle again proclaims himself the antidote to randy orton, and by extension america and then does a promo in punjabi, pissing off americans because america another hype bit for owens/nakamura and a video about how cool shinsuke is and somebody painting a protrait of him this video is basically all showmanship, but that's totally appropriate he's great in the ring, but that's not why people love him but next, the new day actually fight and they keep saying it's owens/nakamura 'for the first time ever' i have gifs that disagree but now, randy is backstage renee comes in to ask what he thinks about jinder's promo apparently he's been getting calls from ric flair, harley race and his dad, telling him to let jinder talk and then fuck him up so that's what he's going to do sure, that's compelling interview work but actually now, it's the new day v the colóns they're still throwing boxes of cereal into the crowd and pouring them on fans, because fuck your health and safety it's xavier/e, because this isn't a serious match so naturally, jbl goes off on a tangent about operation overlord this is 90% the colóns taking all the new day spots you know and love xavier and e do the ab stretch/spank thing at the same time, xavier somehow gets francesca ii turbo despite having a match to wrestle in a side note, primo's gone and shaved, so now i have no clue which colón is which xavier does a huge missile dropkick on epico, double hot tag and big e proceeds to annihilate primo xavier does a casual tope con giro, primo tries for a pin from the distraction, fails because fuck you we're the new day, blind tag into midnight hour for the pin their post-match celebration is interrupted by the usos' aggressive music they're here to talk trash at the new day and do their prison thing, astonishingly and they have shitty misogynistic jokes about the new day and jimmy's paranoia monologue i do like that they're doing all this mic work, but can we maybe not be offensive to marginalised groups shot of kevin taping his wrists backstage, but here's dasha in the curtain room with sami asking how he's preparing for mitb he's been watching lots of matches, basically and he has no idea how to get a handle on shinsuke slippery bastard sami tries to do some of shinsuke's moves, it doesn't go well so he's going to be on announce for owens/nakamura for research purposes baron looms into the room, coldcocks sami then hits him with a ladder like stop thinking about shinsuke don't you love me and then pushes him into a convenient pile of ladders and says he's taking the announce spot cut to shane on the phone like i am literally watching the show what the shit was that why do i keep that enormous douchebag around man spends a lot of time in expository phone calls (says the woman narrating the entire show on the internet) but here's naomi to ask for a match with lana at mitb shane's like seriously you have no clue how busy i am right now naomi lobbies harder, puts the title on the line after saying lana doesn't deserve a title shot because she hasn't earned it? does the bald-snatching line, end segment and now main event time here's kevin good sweeping shot of the ring apron and floor, wrong steadicam guy #smackdownediting ad for talking smack, with aj, mojo, and lana and tjp telling us to watch 205 becuse he's awesome [citation needed] claims you can't stab someone in the back if they're standing in front of you tjp has clearly never heard of the concept of elbows baron's on announce great the two facts they put on shinsuke's sidebar are literally 'from kyoto' and 'former nxt superstar' fascinating but what do i care, i'm busy watching him in his studded tabard that everybody will be wearing in the future bell rings, shinsuke does his oh did you want a tieup i'm just going to kick you in the knees baron talks about his storied history of fucking sami up nobody cares, you balding twat kevin has briefly tried to take shinsuke on at the kicking game, failed, and returned to mastering headlocks shinsuke's kicked off a comeback with a lovely single leg dropkick nearfall off his knees to the corner baron acknowledges that shinsuke is dangerous, my no shit alarm is destroying my eardrums (daniel, can you please take the batteries out of that) baron's still trying to talk smack about kevin, but his particular brand of smack is just shite meanwhile, reverse exploder to kinshasa for the win a lightly underwhelming main event, tbh, but shinsuke's clearly been holding back on the in-ring stuff since moving up which makes perfect sense shinsuke does his poses, corbin runs in to end of days him so hard his stupid hat comes off crowd are not best pleased i'm mostly just concerned as to why he's dressed like the second-rate pot dealer at every college (baron, that is) (i would love it if people at my college dressed like shinsuke) and we fade on baron awkwardly posing at the top of the ramp and having no idea what do with his arms halfhearted shimmy as the show ends and now i'm off to watch talking smack and make shitty political jokes you can't stop me you're not my real dad (one of you reading this is my real dad and can stop me) (also possibly daniel's uncle, if he actually reads this) (memo to self: stop antagonising authority figures for literally no reason)

#WWE #WWE Raw #wwe smackdown #Wrestling

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