L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

Hm. Should Alicia feel some kind of way about her cousin getting battered like this? Maybe. She was honestly of two minds about it.

On the one hand, she was her cousin. Silly, stupid goofball that she was, blood was still blood, and she was ostensibly in Japan, at least in part, to ensure that Yo-Yo didn’t get hurt. Keeping Yo-Yo from getting hurt was like trying to keep a fish from getting wet, but she was still obliged to at least try and mitigate the damage, and right now, damage was what her cousin was taking—quite a bit of it.

On the other hand, she’d kind of gotten herself into this mess with the eye poke thing, and she was reaping the consequences of her bad decisions. Maybe don’t piss off a guy who was twice your size. Good life advice.

In the end, she decided to thread a middle ground and rotate her hands in a ‘wrap it up’ signal when she could catch Blaise’s attention, along with a slight, pleading pout. Yo-Yo could be an ass, but she’d rather not sit by and watch her get beat up for an extended period.

Of course, that wasn’t going to help Yo-Yo in the now, when she was taking a knee to the face at ramming speed. The blow landed dead center and shot her straight up, making her bounce up before she came down on wobbling heels. She teetered to the left, tottered to the right, took a single step forward, then wound up falling flat on her face, laying there in a daze at Blaise’s feet. Judging by the groans, she greatly regretted every life choice that led her to this moment.

Blaise was focused at this point - eyes on the prize. A stark contrast to his earlier days, the vast majority of his wrestling career. Hell, that alone was probably the biggest reason he was such a loser before; the inability to stay on task and see it through. But that's no longer the case. He's developed that sense for proverbial blood in the water, he can feel the momentum flowing on his side. And as Geedorah collapses at his feet, he quickly dips down to grab her at the scalp with one hand, the arm with another, ready to continue the barrage.

Only he catches sight of Aaliyah in that moment, crouched over her battered family. He hesitates, studying her gesture and the pout, and he exhales a hard, heavy siiiigh before giving her a skeptical look. But after just a second of it, he offers a more subtle, softer smile. He gets it. He does. He can't imagine how he'd be feeling if his family was in the ring and getting beaten up. And while he's pretty sure this loudmouth chick deserves a few more punishing blows, the other chick doesn't deserve to have to sit through it. So for her sake, he'll end it.

Or try to.

The hand moves from Geedorah's hair to beneath her shoulder as a sign of understanding the request. He pulls her up to her feet again, but quickly leans over to wrap an arm around the girl's narrow waist, and with a smooth pump, rotate her into the air to align her body against his. Both arms sink in around her, hugging her slender body tight against his firm form - her breasts aligned against his bare abdominals, his toned pectorals hugged against her belly, her face against his hips, while her hips are snug just beneath his chin.

The audience - and indeed, anyone with any wrestling pedigree - would recognize the position immediately. It's the setup to a tombstone piledriver. More to the point, the Phoenix's finisher: the Firestorm.

Aaliyah looked on as Blaise seemed to get the gist, and enjoyed a sigh of her own when he silently conceded. As fun as it was to batter Yo-Yo around, there had to be a limit, and he seemed like the sort of guy who would recognize that. It wasn’t like she would learn a lesson from this, anyway - her cousin would heal up, whine on Twitter, then probably start writing up the lyrics for her next match. After two weeks, it would have been like this had never happened. Might as well save what few brain cells she had left.

Yo-Yo, for her part, was still too out of it to fully appreciate what was going on, her world utterly scrambled by the onslaught she’d just endured. She was vaguely aware that Blaise had paused for some reason, but she didn't have the wherewithal to know why and wouldn’t have cared much if she did. She was done. Right now, all she wanted to do was go home, flop on her bed, and just sleep for two days, with intermittent breaks to consume comfort foods.

Blaise, as it turned out, though, had other plans. Painful plans.

Her eyes widened as she hoisted him upwards, and widened even more when she was held upside down and placed against his body. Even in her addled state, she could still recognize what this move was and what was about to happen, and the revelation was enough to breathe new life into her. She shook about, kicked her legs, wiggled like a fish on a hook, desperate to avoid her incoming demise…

None of it worked. Down she went, her head spiked into the canvas with thunderous force, her world going black momentarily as her senses fled. When they returned, she found herself staring up at the lights as her body shook and trembled, a lifeless husk on the canvas.

Indeed, Blaise had no intentions of letting the rowdy femme-fish wriggle free. He had her where he wanted her. And though it might seem a bit abbreviated compared to the whaling he was originally going to do, what he has in mind will be no less pertinent. No less impactful. No less memorable for the audience.

Keeping the girl trapped against his body draws gasps from the females in the crowd, and generally cheers from those who were more focused on the impending finisher than the raciness of the position or titillating body contact. And that finisher comes with just the thunderous resonance they might have hoped for. A quick hop, and Yo-Yo's head is planted against the center of the mat.

Blaise can feel the jolt run through her body, immediately followed by the limpness in her limbs. Tipping forward, he lets her drop flat to the mat, pausing only long enough to see her eyes start to move. He didn't intend to actually hurt her, just completely sap her ability to fight back. And the look on her face, that odd mixture of serenity and strain, tells him she's right where he wants her. Shifting forward, Blaise stretches his form along hers in a cover. His chest rests flush against her stomach, his chiselled abdominals pressed over her breasts, his hips against her face. His left arm gathers her left thigh, pulling the leg into the air beside his face. The right elbow props against the mat, his hand resting upon her right thigh.

Fully covering the girl's figure, Blaise's head lifts to look out over the crowd in dominant, picture-esque poise. "Count it! She's done!"

And the referee drops beside the pair, ensuring the girl's shoulders are flat against the mat before slapping her palm down. "ONE!"

Sheesh, a flipping Tombstone Piledriver. Aaliyah would give it to Blaise, he wasn’t a half-assing type. A bit overkill in her book, but she wasn’t about to complain after he’d acquiesced her request to send them home early and stop the massacre. Let him put him finish things on his own terms.

She winced at the impact, then stood on her tiptoes to get a better vantage point into the ring - yup, Yo-Yo was still breathing. Dead to the world, sure, but otherwise fine, nothing to serious to worry about. Utterly spent, so when the referee slid in for the count, she wasn’t too surprised by what happened next. Count to three, count to three hundred, it wouldn’t have made much difference.

One, two, three. Done like dinner.

The crowd cheered and gave Blaise a fair smattering of applause - not exactly a Match of the Year contender, that, but it was hardly his fault. For what it was worth, Aaliyah had been suitably impressed, even if he cousin had been on the receiving end of all that, deserved though it was. She let her shoulders slump and relaxed, glad the sorry affair was over.

After taking a moment to throw her hair back, she slid in under the bottom rope and knee-walked over to her cousin, who was still laying flat and prone. She gave her a couple of quick taps on the forehead to get her attention, and looked down on her with her mother’s trademark stare. ”So.” She titled her head to the side. ”What did we learn?”

Yo-Yo didn’t bother opening her eyes, but the wrinkled grimace was enough to convey her feelings on the matter. ”Fuck off. Both.”

”Yeah, about what I thought.”

"TWO! THREE!"

*DING* *DING* *DING*

It almost felt too simple. A part of him expected her to buck free in the last moment. But she didn't. She remained placid beneath him. He could feel the heavy rhythmic shifting of her body pressing into him with each breath.

In the microcosm of a few scant seconds, Blaise had to reflect on how this match went. He was in a commanding lead from start to fi ish, with just a little lull there when she got underhanded. Would the old him have won this? Would he have gotten too worried about going too hard on her? Too distracted with the crowd? Were this just a year or so ago, Yo-Yo may very well have been the one on top tonight, doubtlessly gloating over him and calling him an idiot.

The presence of the crouching referee girl brings him back to the present. He releases the captive thigh and lets himself be pawed off of his fallen opponent. His arm is raised as he's presented to the audience, and a bright smile soon finds his face again.

When his arm is released, he turns to the referee to gently pluck his shades from her head, eliciting a shy giggle from the girl. Sparing her a wink, he slots them over his eyes again.

Finally, he turns to spot Aaliyah over Yo-Yo. With a final wave to the audience, he leans over to prop his hands on his knees.

"She good?," he asks, voice elevated enough to be heard over the thumping resonance of his music and the blaring white noise of the audience's cheer.

Some things just never changed, did they?

Yo-Yo had been much the same way when they were kids, never able to take an L gracefully. Aaliyah would come over, they’d played Smash Brothers Brawl, and she would complain about her picking Meta Knight to win. Aaliyah would switch it up and win with Pikachu, but the complaining would continue. She would demand they play on Final Destination with no items, and still, she’d lose. There would always be some excuse, some reason why she couldn't come out on top, always something, and it was far too tiring to argue with her. Just let it be. Move on.

The moment Blaise started coming their way, Yo-Yo rolled away, ducking under the ropes and landing on her feet outside the ring for all of two seconds before her legs gave out and she fell to her knees. She pushed up a moment later and stumbled left, then right, then left again, zigzagging her way up the ramp, one poorly placed step after the other, hurriedly trying to put as much distance between herself and the ring.

Aaliyah just sighed and stood, hands on hips. They’d go to that little place down the street that made tempura. Yo-Yo liked that place. ”Eh. Goodish.” She shrugged it off and turned to Blaise. ”She’ll get over it. As much as she ever gets over anything. Good match. Sorry about all the…” She waved her hand about and rolled her eyes, figuring that blank could fill itself in well enough.

Aaliyah gave him a playful punch on the shoulder and started out of the ring, getting one leg through the ropes before she paused and looked back. ”Say, what’s your dance card look like? Got any matches coming up soon?”

Blaise, still crouched over with hands on his knees, watches as his opponent rolls away, stumbles, drops, and staggers her way away. Was she... scared of him? Surely not. He didn't harbor any continuing ill will towards her! The match is over, his eyes have been avenged, and hey! He even came out on top! He's in a great mood!

It never crosses his mind that she may want to get some distance for bitter feelings.

He straightens his posture with a curious shrug, and turns to Aaliyah right in time to get a little play-slug on the shoulder. The kneejerk impulse to oversell it crosses his mind - all in jest, for the luls, his natural inclination to pal around with people very nearly taking him. But thankfully, he immediately realizes that would be highly inappropriate in this setting. Wrestlers already get side-eyed by some people. He doesn't need to present the idea that what they do is fake.

The little punch is, however, received with a little tilt and boyish smile. "About what? Her trying to Mr. Potato-Head my eyes out?," he jokes. The shake of his head and persistent pleasantry likely reveals he's not fussed about it in any lingering way. It's all good vibes from him now. "It's fine, they're still in there. Just smudgy!" Okay, so there's some lingering ache, and he intends to rinse his eyes after, but no need to be a downer.

He started moving along behind her, about to even hold the ropes for her like a proper gentlewrestleman. But her doubling back as him almost bumping into her face with his chest. "Oh, uh-," he pauses, brain needing a quick reboot. "..not sure? Management tells me who I'm fightin' usually right before it's go-time. What, got other family members ya wanna see me roughhouse?," he teases.

Aaliyah flinched a bit when she realized how close Blaise was. Not that she thought he was about to jump her or anything, but she didn’t quite expect him to follow that close - was he about to hold the ropes for her? Gentlemanly. More than she was expecting from anyone in LAW, being 100%. He was starting to wrack up a reputation for surprising her.

She stayed in between the ropes, frozen in time, easily balanced on one foot as he explained the situation. Yeah, she figured it was like that. Back home, her old fed had been pretty strict about who fought whom, when and where, not wanting to get their wires crossed. LAW, on other hand, seemed more akin to the wild west, which worked just fine for her purposes.

She snickered and rolled her eyes at his little joke. Corny, but not to the point where it wasn’t cute. Time would tell how long that’d last. ”Got a grandmother who used to do juijitsu, could probably give you a good run. But no.” She tapped her chest. ”Me, goofball. I want a match. Thinking standard, but I’m game if you want to mix it up. Sound good?”

She called him goof. That's a lot nicer than what her cousin had been calling him. And he's totally fine with that label - he is a goof. So that smile he's wearing? It's not going anywhere.

Though when she clarifies her intention, his eyebrows perk over the ridge of his shades. The lenses may be hiding his eyes, but the pause surely reveals he's giving her a curious once-over with a fresh perspective.

Damn, she's got nice abs.

"I think we can make that happen. Wanna get together, talk it over?," he prompts. "Because I'm down to do it. You seem cool."

"Just promise me Meemaw won't Kill Bill me if I pin her grandbaby." He pinches the corner of the shades to draw them down, flashing a bright blue-eyed wink.