Post by Aphrodite IX on Jun 14, 2021 22:16:00 GMT -5
The lights go out, leaving nothing but blazing neon and music blasting loud enough to drown out everything else the world has to offer. Everyone is already sweating but instead of water, it’s tequila shots lined up like they’d save your life on a bar rail. Aph feels the breath threatening to push itself out of her an inch at a time but she can feel herself coming up again so she pushes into the beat, her body moving as though divorced from any thought. Lost in the nothingness because nothingness is the place she’s always gone to when she needed to get lost.
No. Not her. Her. The ghost. The her that came before her. The her that wanted nothing more than to end. The her that had to stop being so badly that she became something else just in the arrogant hope that becoming something else would abdicate her of the sins that made her so desperately want to abdicate her life to begin with. That the coward who couldn’t even end herself properly could just disappear, becoming the cocoon for a greater thing which would in turn justify her existence.
Aph hated her. Hated the scars she carried for her. Hated the feeling in the back of her head every time she had to consider the feelings for people who had meant something to her. Hated feeling as though she should suffer for the mistakes a child made then left to her. She wanted to rip it all away. To sweat and suffer and bleed until there was nothing left of her body but the her who had been born and reborn free of sin until the moment she made her own.
It was a bloodless death. An innocent sin. The death of ego and self is as much suicide as it is murder and Aphrodite IX needed that sacrifice to exist after all. Why mourn the loss of someone who’d never mourn herself? Who never really lived, always driven to die but so afraid of it in the end that she disappeared into a lie so deeply that it became true.
So Aph lost herself to the music. To the sweat and the darkness that claimed her as naturally as if she was born to them, because in so many ways she was. And when she finds herself in the bed with his lips against hers and her lips against hers and their lips…well, she finds her escape for another night and in the end isn’t that the important thing? Tangled skin and fingernails digging deep enough to draw blood. If she never has to be anything, she’ll never have to worry about what she’ll become.
Dreams are for killing.
Dear Chelsea,
Do you still think about it? How it felt to get in the ring and wait for the tick tick tick as the explosion primed itself, ready to blow us to hell? I’ve never been much of a romantic, but I honestly think there was a moment in that match when you pushed yourself to hurt me just that little bit more and my heart skipped a beat.
I’ve never been here for the reasons anyone else is.
I didn’t dream of being a champion. I could give a shit about how much money I pull in. When this all started, all I wanted was a hot vehicle for self destruction. I got ideas along the way, sure. Who can’t innovate a little when things get violent? I walked my way into the ring and I saw just how easy it would be…how much hope you all invested and I thought…shit, wouldn’t it be funny if I just smothered it in the crib?
It’s the little steps. The moments of personal growth. I wanted you to hurt me more than anything. Then I got that idea that hey, hurting you might be a good time too. Then we ended up lying there, bloodied, beaten, and blown up and all I could think was god, I could do this forever. I want to get it. I want to understand what makes you push like that. I want to want the thing that you fought so hard for.
Now I see these moments where you’re slipping. Barely sneaking by me with the possibility of a rematch on everyone’s lips. My boy Jin getting his shot primed to aim at…you? Khaos? You don’t know and just when that’s got you tilted, there’s Sora pushing you to a draw. At what point will one of us dangerous people get that gold away from your shoulder and around one of ours? I don’t have that answer but suddenly it’s all that I want to find out.
This little matchup where you get your champions lined up with the Silver medalist of this past tournament is so…funny. You see a group of us who just came right on out and took our shots despite being right in the gate and you just can’t help trying to stomp us out along with the one person who we share any respect with. In the same way that you just won’t give up when that title is on the line though, we just won’t say die. You can beat us down and break our bodies all you like…we’ll just keep coming.
Not because we’re that dedicated.
Not out of love or passion.
We just don’t know how to stay down.
Sora beat the International Champion, Jin won your little tournament after every single one of us made it to semis at least, and Jessie had one hell of a run with her own gold and is sitting on a win over the supposed champion of her show. While your side may have all the gold in this equation, our side damn sure has the guts.
Otherwise you’d give us what we deserve.
Jessie would have her shot at the Legacy Title.
Sora and I would have returns with Chelsea.
Jin wouldn’t have to go looking for a champion ready to fight him.
The fact is that the moment any of you got hold of a title, you’re driven by fear. The knowledge that all it takes is one mistake…one little moment and it’s all over. If I’d fallen on top after the explosion…if Sora hadn’t run out of time…if Jin calls his shot…you’re so afraid of all of us that you’ll hide behind the company and their booking instead of stepping up to fight us again.
That’s fine though, Chelsea. Because I know that when the moment comes and you get cornered…that’s when your best self comes out. That’s when everything I have to do to get there will be worth it. Make no mistake…there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to see that face again. No matter who I have to hurt or what I have to do, if it means that I end up across the ring from you with that gold on the line one more time? I’ll do it. Gladly.
Unlike you, I won’t be driven by fear.
I have another obsession.
It ends with your blood on my hands.
No. Not her. Her. The ghost. The her that came before her. The her that wanted nothing more than to end. The her that had to stop being so badly that she became something else just in the arrogant hope that becoming something else would abdicate her of the sins that made her so desperately want to abdicate her life to begin with. That the coward who couldn’t even end herself properly could just disappear, becoming the cocoon for a greater thing which would in turn justify her existence.
Aph hated her. Hated the scars she carried for her. Hated the feeling in the back of her head every time she had to consider the feelings for people who had meant something to her. Hated feeling as though she should suffer for the mistakes a child made then left to her. She wanted to rip it all away. To sweat and suffer and bleed until there was nothing left of her body but the her who had been born and reborn free of sin until the moment she made her own.
It was a bloodless death. An innocent sin. The death of ego and self is as much suicide as it is murder and Aphrodite IX needed that sacrifice to exist after all. Why mourn the loss of someone who’d never mourn herself? Who never really lived, always driven to die but so afraid of it in the end that she disappeared into a lie so deeply that it became true.
So Aph lost herself to the music. To the sweat and the darkness that claimed her as naturally as if she was born to them, because in so many ways she was. And when she finds herself in the bed with his lips against hers and her lips against hers and their lips…well, she finds her escape for another night and in the end isn’t that the important thing? Tangled skin and fingernails digging deep enough to draw blood. If she never has to be anything, she’ll never have to worry about what she’ll become.
Dreams are for killing.
Dear Chelsea,
Do you still think about it? How it felt to get in the ring and wait for the tick tick tick as the explosion primed itself, ready to blow us to hell? I’ve never been much of a romantic, but I honestly think there was a moment in that match when you pushed yourself to hurt me just that little bit more and my heart skipped a beat.
I’ve never been here for the reasons anyone else is.
I didn’t dream of being a champion. I could give a shit about how much money I pull in. When this all started, all I wanted was a hot vehicle for self destruction. I got ideas along the way, sure. Who can’t innovate a little when things get violent? I walked my way into the ring and I saw just how easy it would be…how much hope you all invested and I thought…shit, wouldn’t it be funny if I just smothered it in the crib?
It’s the little steps. The moments of personal growth. I wanted you to hurt me more than anything. Then I got that idea that hey, hurting you might be a good time too. Then we ended up lying there, bloodied, beaten, and blown up and all I could think was god, I could do this forever. I want to get it. I want to understand what makes you push like that. I want to want the thing that you fought so hard for.
Now I see these moments where you’re slipping. Barely sneaking by me with the possibility of a rematch on everyone’s lips. My boy Jin getting his shot primed to aim at…you? Khaos? You don’t know and just when that’s got you tilted, there’s Sora pushing you to a draw. At what point will one of us dangerous people get that gold away from your shoulder and around one of ours? I don’t have that answer but suddenly it’s all that I want to find out.
This little matchup where you get your champions lined up with the Silver medalist of this past tournament is so…funny. You see a group of us who just came right on out and took our shots despite being right in the gate and you just can’t help trying to stomp us out along with the one person who we share any respect with. In the same way that you just won’t give up when that title is on the line though, we just won’t say die. You can beat us down and break our bodies all you like…we’ll just keep coming.
Not because we’re that dedicated.
Not out of love or passion.
We just don’t know how to stay down.
Sora beat the International Champion, Jin won your little tournament after every single one of us made it to semis at least, and Jessie had one hell of a run with her own gold and is sitting on a win over the supposed champion of her show. While your side may have all the gold in this equation, our side damn sure has the guts.
Otherwise you’d give us what we deserve.
Jessie would have her shot at the Legacy Title.
Sora and I would have returns with Chelsea.
Jin wouldn’t have to go looking for a champion ready to fight him.
The fact is that the moment any of you got hold of a title, you’re driven by fear. The knowledge that all it takes is one mistake…one little moment and it’s all over. If I’d fallen on top after the explosion…if Sora hadn’t run out of time…if Jin calls his shot…you’re so afraid of all of us that you’ll hide behind the company and their booking instead of stepping up to fight us again.
That’s fine though, Chelsea. Because I know that when the moment comes and you get cornered…that’s when your best self comes out. That’s when everything I have to do to get there will be worth it. Make no mistake…there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to see that face again. No matter who I have to hurt or what I have to do, if it means that I end up across the ring from you with that gold on the line one more time? I’ll do it. Gladly.
Unlike you, I won’t be driven by fear.
I have another obsession.
It ends with your blood on my hands.