I have a hc that post beating the crap out of his CO but prior to being demoted back to corporal, wash spent like a week as an ODST drill sergeant as a 'punishment' until the higher ups finished their investigation, and that's the only real experience training others he has going into chorus.

so basically, wash tortured tucker and the combined armies of chorus with the brutal training used to root out the people who couldn't make the cut as an ODST, which only makes the scene where the kids jump grif even funnier than it already is.

Pygmalion (V)

Pairings: Rook/ (Pygmalion) MC // Idia/MC (Platonic)

Summary: You were frequently told that your career as a renowned sculptor did not match your dull and less than colorful personality. With your cybernetic hands, you carve the lives and deaths of those long gone‒ producing pieces which have been held in both technical and emotional high regard, dubbing you with the title “Pygm.AI.lion” despite your human heart and brain. When you accidentally still the usually flamboyant archer into silence after he comes across you working in your atelier‒ you find that you’ve become a victim to one of his ceaseless stalkings. Though, you’ve been prey long enough to know how hunt the huntsman himself.

Notes: The devil has been “putting me through the fucking ringer” as white people say. Been going through it recently lol February has already been such a shit month so I tried not to let my absolute mental spiral into ceaseless despair affect my writing as much hahaaaaa

Short but dense chapter

Anyways enjoy the fluff and angst (*´∀`)♪

CW: Mentions of grooming

AO3 Link Here.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 (Here) // Part 6

Masterlist.

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Your friendship with him flooded into your life after that day. The two of you began to spend your weekends in the atelier from mild afternoons, until the moon rose high in the sky. Truth is‒ neither of you meant to stay for too long in the company of one another, but the bright laughter that carried throughout that small shed had made you both blind to the crimson brilliance of the setting sun and the bellow of the moonlight‒ only just noticing the darkness of the world when you aught the flickers of the candlelight lick his carefully carved features, glowing against his golden hair. You thought of grand baroque sculptures‒ the way he swayed and glided his arms in sweeping movements, tipping his head back into jubilant laughter‒ catching yourself posing him in your mind, committing every crease rippling from his fair smile, every which way his fingers fluttered against one another, sometimes against your own, carefully chiseling his flowering delight in your mind. 

The two of you began to whisper clever lines to each other during critiques, tossing amused looks during rehearsals at Film studies club, shared each other’s warmth in your atelier. He urged you to talk with Idia after what you had said, and you nodded, following the march of his heart as part of your own. Idia was surprised when you showed at his door, lifting your heels off the ground to reach your arms around his neck. Even with his slouch, you felt joy in how much he had grown. Rook also followed you in this manner, listening intently when you showed him techniques and effects on his camera‒ racing your brilliant sensibilities as quickly as you revealed them to him, with a dancing heart. 

“You seem different. Happier.” Idia says with a smirk. Ortho agrees, quietly catching the lingering glances each of you gave during rehearsals, your snickers and banter when you thought no one saw. Time had slowly receded back into the beat of a human heart once more‒ something you realized when you could remember each day, each sweet moment of which you and Rook slowly unraveled yourselves to one another. The two of you discussed all matters of things‒ ancient carving techniques dead to the world, the taste of his food, your friendship with foregone artists, his extravagant experiments in the science lab. You taught him attitudes of love, art, creation‒ trading thoughts which bloomed from your heart. 

“How does your food taste?”

“Like buttered clouds‒ honeyed with the sun.” 

“What are you carving?

“Guess.” 

The stories of your six hundred years of existence felt no richer than his own years. When he reminisced about his childhood, you could catch fragments of your youth with it‒ revelations of long forgotten memories surfacing by the enchantment of his voice. You remembered Lutetia, the name before the City of Flowers, your time you spent in the sun, skipping rocks by yourself by the pond. Rook recounts similar stories‒ perhaps you would have been friends as children. The centuries that had weighed upon you felt impossibly lighter when you faced his excited laugher.

The scarcity of time and distance mattered less to Rook when you divulge him in your secret smiles‒ too much to enjoy here, now, at the base of the ripening fruit tree that he had not thought much of the decay of his harvest, but the sweetening morsel in front of him. The game‒ the hunt never ended, however he no longer hopped from one carcass to another, instead following this animal with narrow, childish joy and curiosity. That picture of clarity in his mind felt brighter than ever when he allowed the fresh fragments of himself that he gave to you to be a part of it, which you returned with your own growing roots in that painting‒ creating, hand in hand, a magnum opus of beauty. There was truly no way to spend the days between the two of you without coloring it with each other’s warmth. 

You knew, soon, you were going to begin to find shapes of him everywhere you went‒ and in his absence, you would glance over at the imprint he left, and ache. The way his face stained pink with electrified blood when his touch lingered on yours made this longing worse, the rebellion inside of you nearly crumbling at his fingertips. The only thing which fortified that revolt was your knowledge of how it ended, the sculptures that surrounded the two of you which descended their decaying image upon you were evidence to that relentless tale, that curse. 

Sometimes, you indulge yourself in such sweetened moments, your backs against each other resonating each other’s heart beat while you sat carving splendidly insignificant sculptures into ivory, he, fiddling with the camera in his hands, raising the screen when he remembered one of your exhibitions he had gone to, showing a picture of his adoration. But at times like this, it all felt too close‒ the ache much too acute for your swelling chest‒ suddenly aware of the closeness between you two strung together by your neighboring hands. Dread tightened your brows, you shrunk away from the warmth. This cruelty was a curse of your own making, but it was spun into your long, long life in such a way that it was almost unavoidable if you wanted to prevent your heart from breaking. 

“Ah‒ sorry‒“

“Désolé, I did not mean to after‒”

“No. It’s alright.” Your smile reached the corners of your eyes, lifting them like the climbing in your chest. “I just try not to, because of my magic. My body is unpredictable‒ I don’t want to hurt anyone.” 

“Does your magic affect living things as well?”

“No, but‒“

“Then I trust you not to hurt me.” 

You would let him do whatever he wanted with you when he said things like that, cradling your hand with such tenderness. Anything‒ just don’t let go, don't leave. Don't leave me.

 He asks you many questions, your thoughts. You don’t mind his curiosity. 

"What did you intend with this piece?"

"What did I intend with it?"

"Yes. What did you intend when you created her?" He pointed towards the wax covered figure they glowed delicately in the dusty sunlight. 

"My…" you lingered a bit at his words. "Like I said before. My hands move on their own. I am a sculptor who carves not with the mind or heart." Ignoring the tug in your chest at your own words, you continued. "I possess stone with life that has departed, and fossilize its demise into marble. That is all I know…I…" You were suddenly aware of the slight jitter in your movements, caused by your cybernetics. Opening and closing your fists, you could see the inhuman tick through the glass lens, connected to the enhanced retinal scanners of your eye. You knew of the cold, black blood which ran through your plastic veins. "Why…" Those words felt heavy on your lips. 

Rook pressed a finger against your chest, feeling the rhythmic drumming of your still very human heart melting into his skin, into his hand, traveling to the thundering of his ears. He hoped to fish it out so you could hear it for yourself too. "Here. What did this one here have in mind when you created?" He noticed his height made it perfect to gaze right into where the flesh over which your heart beat. "When gods create, they make their creations in their own image." The green tucked behind the slits of his eyes flickered towards you. "What sort of god are you?" 

You clenched the nausea in your abdomen. “…I am no god. These hands that create do not belong to me. I am merely a vessel to humanity’s life and death‒ its sorrows, pains, happiness. I merely observe it.” Your words came out in short bursts as you struggled to string together words that reflected your splintering heart. “ I cannot feel it. “

“What about your pain? Your sorrow? What about your happiness?”

You were silent. “My,” Rook took your old hands into the softness of his own. “My sorrow. My pain. My happiness.” The swirling in your chest felt muddled, a fine slurry of colors‒ you couldn’t identify what was what and where if you wanted to. You heaved out shallow breaths. 

“Your sorrow. Your pain. Your happiness.” His cheeks raised to a slivered smile. “Treasure it, like you treasure others’.” Rook hadn’t meant to say the last part, but as always spoke with as much conviction as he could. He meant to keep it deep within himself, melting into the chasmic depths of his heart so you could not trace the entrails to his soul, where he hid in the forested depth of his viridian eyes‒ but when he found himself lingering, deepening his gaze towards you, he couldn’t help but to cleave those words from himself, so openly offering a part of his heart. No wound had felt fresher, more incandescent, more real. You press your hand on top of his, resonating the fluttering of his pulse at your sensors with your own elating heartbeat, as if to answer‒ yes, yes, yes . It tickled. 

“Then show me yours, so I may know what to treasure.” 

 It had been centuries since you let go of your inhibitions to let the world eat you raw. You devoured each other in that tenderness, carving open your chests and watching them beat in each other's hands. Even in the face of blazing firelight against the darkness of night, your grotesque flesh burns the brightest, kindled with unparalleled vigor‒ the most soft, the most lucid, the most real thing in your hands. 

So it was inevitable that he would bear witness to the sudden stutter of your movements. 

It was during one of those temperate weekends, the two of you delightfully blind to the scorching sun setting on the horizon. You had been able to acquire a particularly fine specimen of ivory, carving it hollow into a small casket, sizing it to the dimensions of his hunter’s arrows. You chiseled diligently, with a murmuring chest, a low relief depicting scenes of affection, adoration, devotion. You remembered crowns of daisies, buttercups, and pansies merrily laced in wind tossed hair; scenes of lovers tending to a beast of love, the unicorn; secret meetings between sweethearts in the rose gardens‒ sculpting them prettily onto the creamy material, engraving the features as soft and tender as the feeling in your chest. There was a slight jitter in your arms, sure, but the swelling feeling in your chest carried you to an ignorant bliss. You place the casket on the drafting table, and go to lift a large slab of marble to access materials to polish the box. A tick sounds in your arms, you try to ignore it, but you're unable to when the full weight of the marble is slammed onto the ground, carrying your arms with it. Oily strands of black bead from your chest to the ruptured arms at your feet. You bend down‒ expecting it to pull together like threads, but it doesn't. It simply lies like cold flesh on the wood floor. 

"Maître d’Ivoire?"

When you don't respond, looking blankly at your fallen limbs, he tries again‒ closer, soft touch tickling your neck. 

"(Name)?" 

"It's not…" Fright seized your throat. "It's not mending. My Orpheus system. It's not working." There’s a slight tremble in your voice, Rook catches it with ease, steading your shoulders as you rise. 

"Let us search for Roi de Ta Chambre." 

You nodded dumbly. A worn cloth is wrapped around the arms, Rook searches for another cleaner one, before he shrugs off his own coat, wrapping it tightly around you. His smell‒ deep earthen oak and warmed amber on skin‒ is the only thing you take note of until you find yourselves in the hallways of the Ignihyde dorm, which feels stretched with your soaring anxiety, your knees wobbling as that lift each heavy foot to catch up with Rook’s hasty pace. You find yourself stumbling, staggering to the cold wall with your head leaned against it, the floor spinning from under your feet. Rook scent rushes closer as he catches your body, letting you slowly fall to the ground to rest. 

“Let’s rest a minute‒ before you’re falling into my arms again.” He makes you chuckle, you're glad he does as it distracts you from the gravitational feeling of something heaving from your chest, energy‒ or something more primordial from it‒ pouring from that thread of tension drawing from your lungs. You close your eyes for a moment, only lifting its weight and the slight one at the corner of your lips when you feel him pulling the jacket closer to your chest. Normally you would have detested such a fussy action, but you had little energy to thwart his movements or the smile mirroring your own, nor minded the warmth that came with his florid hands, enveloping you in his golden sanctuary. 

A darkened shade sharply colors your vision. You shift your eyes from Rook to the towering figures, your entire body clenching into itself at the sight. 

"Hello my little ram." He says with a crescent smile, arms open like a covetous falcon. Pointed teeth slashed across his face, glimmering sharp sliver in the inky overcast of his face. 

The words dry in your strangled throat. The shimmery, twisting horns archaic and unforgiving as the river Styx, the hair dark as burning coal sticking sharply in the air; the staff coiling around his veiny hands, commanding every movement of his body. Krios. 

“We were looking for you everywhere, young Jupiter.” He retracts his smoothed arms‒ just then, you notice he does not have the same weariness he did when you last saw him. It frightens you. “I can’t say I’m pleased with where you ran off to.” The creases at his nose bridge, and twitch of his eye were almost negligible, but the exact shapes were blackened in your memories as a sign of great vexation despite the hissing lightness of his voice. 

Somehow, you force words out, staccato breaths. “They brought me here. They chose me. I belong here.” 

“More than your family? More than I?” 

“I don’t believe strangers are welcome here on Night Raven’s campus. I would be glad to retrieve an escort to see you out, monsieur.” You see Rook's jaw tighten as he clenches his teeth through a thin smile, raising his cheeks just enough to reach that strain from his lips to his eyes. You shudder as you haul your body off of the floor, aided by Rook’s rushed hands, steadying your legs, your chest, your heart momentarily with his touch. Krios follows your movements carefully, crimson eyes slender and slow through the narrowed slits of his face. You turn to Rook. 

“Do you mind getting Idia for me? I’ll be alright here.” 

“Are you certain? I‒” 

“I am certain.” You curve your lips into a reassuring smile, quelling for a moment, the shaking in your body with all of the energy you could muster. Relief floods you when he nods, his hands stick Ike honey before he speeds off for Idia's room. 

"Why have you come to get me? S.T.Y.X has not come to collect me since Night Raven College called for me, not ever, since your…” you chose your words carefully, remembering the coldness of fallen flesh of the man standing, sprightly, in front of you. “... sabbatical. Why now?” 

"Who was that boy just now?" He trails his gaze to the endless hallways of the dorm, as if to pierce his precise location.

"Won't you answer my question?" 

"Oh sweet child." He curled his taloned hand under your chin, then curving it to your cheek. You thought to pull away, but didn't, instead wrinkling that disgust in your brows. "Look what they've done to you here. So defiant, so soft ." 

"My softness does not negate my abilities." You would treasure it dearly, harbor far from all of this . 

"With what arms, my child? The whole reason I'm here is to fix you. Don't you have some gratitude for the family who took you in and gave you everything ? You have it all‒ fame, immortality, youth‒ you could have power too, you know." 

No , you knew. You knew now. You were ablaze, enlightened by the brilliance of your own life, spun in the heavenly refuge of others. "I was so young. Conflicted. You took advantage of me. All of you. Every single one." The words were spat from your tightening throat. You knew what his presence heralded‒ your body would be brought back to that lab, subject to Krios’ dissections. Though you felt yourself being ensnared by Krios’ gaze, you felt that if you did not cry out this poison in your body, you would turn back‒ resist against the inevitable. You would spare that bitterness from yourself, from Rook. You glowered, a searing violence in your eyes. 

“I don’t want any of it‒ and you rob me of everything in return. My humanity, my memories, my youth- gone. What more must you take from me ? ” You bare your teeth, clenching an animal violence in the blood of your mouth. There’s your humanity. In the brutality, the lament of your eyes. It’s all still here, now. You want to tear him apart. 

His smile never falters, plucking your dismembered arms from the ground. With a lithe hand, he waves his staff, levitating your limbs in the air, before the blot swirls to your shoulders, threading together your body in curdles of jerky ink. You quickly shrug off Rook’s jacket so as not to soil it, allowing Krios to place a hand on your newly mended shoulder, bare to his sharp touch, cold as a cadaver. You lurch yourself from it, reaching down to grab the jacket, warming your shoulders inside of it. 

"Are you done with this tantrum of yours, my dear little ram?" He chided, slinking his hand onto your neck to turn your body towards his. The grief, the fury is slowly dying inside your chilling body, you clutch onto it in your thundering chest to conserve any of its fleeting warmth. You think of the fluttering pulse of Rook's hand, bright and balmy as the sun. "Feels good, does it not? Blaming others for your own shortcomings. Come back to your family now, you won’t survive without us. I'm giving you the change to go quietly before‒ "

"(Name)!"

You inhale sharply, and do not meet Idia's eyes. It would break you. 

"Master Idia, Master Ortho. How good it is to see you two again." A tightened smile.

“Rook is getting the headmage as we speak. You have no jurisdiction here Krios. I don’t know how- ” 

The doctor titters a piping whistle that cuts through Idia’s words. “Doctor’s orders, Master Idia. Right, (Name)?”

You wish you had the organs to vomit, the way he pulled your body close to his side while your name sat on his tongue like a blight‒ the smell of bleach and decay overpowering the warming amber of Rook’s scent. He turns to you, expectantly, a sly tip of his head which says, “ you know what to do .” You want the world to collapse‒ cindering fires, cataclysmic tornados, roaring thunderstorms‒ anything that holds all your rage and grief. But the youth, the heart Rook has resurrected with his careful hands knows the ruthless wrath pooling in Krios’ eyes that adds, try me, do it. Not a threat, a declaration of your power against his. 

“Idia. Ortho. Hear me.” You know the expression on his face without having to turn. Crumpled at the center of his nose bridge, head down. It was like this, always, back at the lab when you would tease him and his brother. 

“ Anything .” Idia answers for the two of them. 

"Watch over him. Over yourselves too."

"(Name)-" His voice breaks. 

“Idia.” You’re able to turn to him now, holding the last drop of humanity in the warmth of your smile. “Take care. It’ll pass.” Then, like blood, you drain it all from your body.

Still, it returns‒ breaking into your veins like a flood. You wanted to clobber yourself from weeks ago, begging Rook not to let go. It was always you, always . You swallow that lump of humanity down your esophagus, deep deep into the belly of the darkness. 

Krios rubs a thumb of your neck, guiding your movements towards the carriage you suddenly find yourself staggering towards. You twist out of his grasp like a feral animal‒ letting the coat fall from your shoulders and snatching the collar of his neck. Your breaths come out in white, steamy gasps, as you think, your gaze gritting against his never ending smile. No words, not even in all of the arcane, ancient languages you knew, were big enough for the hollowness in your heart, and the anger at the one who twisted it open. Hunger, starvation, famine‒ these words were not enough for the cosmic emptiness. You heave, silent, crumbling to the ground, pathetically grasping at the ground near Krios’ feet. The jacket is seized in your hands, rushing to a fragrance of humanity‒ of warmth, of life, of love. it will never be like this again. The frost you feel rising now is especially fracturing, knowing what the warmth from the rapture of the sun felt like on your flesh. It splitters you. This is not a wound your body can mend.

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Notes:

Gina Lorenzo Bernini was a famous Italian baroque sculptor, you’ve probably seen some of his works in the past without realizing it‒ his work has been featured in a lot of mythological and Roman Catholic contexts. If you look up his pieces like David, Ecstasy of Saint Teresa, and Blessed Ludovia Albertoni‒ you’ll see what I mean when I was comparing it with Rook’s over dramatic movements lol. Baroque sculptures are typically very dynamic and have a melodramatic flare‒ but still retain a sense of sturdiness and realism‒ perfect for Rook I think. Very sensual, beautiful‒ and kind of scandalous for its time period. But some art historians argue that he’s even better than Michelangelo so sometimes you gotta be horny in the wrong time to get that sweet sweet fame after your demise ya know. You’d be surprised how many artists fit that statement

Also fun fact about Baroque painting‒ the guy who is most well known for it, Caravaggio (you might have heard the term “Caravaggesque” and chiaroscuro which are attributed to him and the overall baroque movement), killed a guy. Like literally just stabbed a guy to death. And NO ONE talks about it

Magnum opus: Basically the most important piece of artwork an artist produces (most renowned, most popular, etc)

Lutetia (called Lutèce in French) is actually the old name of Paris, meaning mud or swamp in Latin.

I feel like I spoke in riddles with all the analogies I’m using with Rook lol. But I feel like fits the flare of his character while it also grounds itself in reality a bit with its very visceral experiences. Like the whole fruit tree analogy is like Tantalus' thing‒ except the catch is that you’re the thing that holds yourself hostage from claiming the fruit, which I think is a very relatable experience for people who’re are in that young adult stage. 

Ivory chests, or coffret in French (meaning “coffin”- however no connection to death or burial rituals) were used as dowry pieces, or tokens of affection during courtship, as they often depicted scenes of love‒ especially through hunting imagery that was growing in popularity during the medieval period when these were made. Since they were much smaller because of the limited shape and size of ivory, they often held small things like trinkets, jewelry, locks of hair, etc. There’s a pretty famous version of these caskets (“Casket with Scenes of Romances”) that were reproduced multiple times in Paris, the center to ivory carving in the fourteenth century (unfortunately because of the plundering of Africa during the period). There’s a strong intersection between secular and nonsecular imagery during the period because Christianity was growing as a huge patron of the art world‒ so I changed some of the imagery up a little bit. Also, because of the unfortunate sexist and colonialism bit (keep in mind Crusades had just ended like a couple centuries ago too, and contributed significantly to national French identity)- like images of love being equated to the take over of a castle, images of combat, and the hunt and slay of a unicorn. Yes, heteronormative courting rituals have been convoluted with a slight air of violence for centuries folks. Anyways wanted to add more gentle imagery since A) don’t love the sexism and colonialism bit and B) it better fits the overall theme of acceptance and gentleness.

Yeah can you tell I like consumption imagery in my writing? Not at all right 

In “Flowers of Manhood” by Christopher Looby he describes daisies, buttercups, and in particular pansies as terms for "flamboyant gay men", which in the mid 20th century had become a symbol of queerness and queer love. As a queer myself, it's difficult to completely separate my own life from my writings‒ and with a GN MC, I thought I would add that in as a little homage to any of the queer people reading this, since we are so rarely represented in media. 

CRASHES INTO YOUR INBOX. tell me about hex nOW 🎯🧊🍀✏️💀

WELL IF YOU INSIST!

🎯 -What do they do best?

ohhhh this is a hard one… i think since becoming the master at arms for the caesura she’s gotten really knowledgeable about weapons, especially older ones. she’s good at knowing exactly how to kill stuff.

🧊 - Is their current design the first one?

oh my god ABSOLUTELY NOT. her first design is gonna be her human one with the revengers which i have NO art of. she long brown hair that she wore down her back, dark eyes, wore a white shirt, yellow shorts, a black jean jacket, and combat boots. when i made her into a mechanisms oc, i took her initial revengers design and kept it about the same and then put her through the ringer, and also made her hair black and her eyes green.

of course we have the part where she looses her eye in our wonderland clone, then after she leaves the revengers when yrt comes back and tells her what happened to rosette, she cuts her hair short (like bob length) and gets rid of the jacket. while with lady saturn, she starts wearing a yellow button up and long black pants, but sticks with the combat boots.

when she gets mechanized, she gets brand new metal organs but those aren’t visible on the outside of course, and also gets a fun new eye (a blue one) and fun mechanical lines coming out of it, and i DO have art for this (ty @redrobemerle )

her hair gets longer in the time in between getting mech’d and joining the caesura, though she wears in different now. she also takes hylo’s dog tags when lady saturn murders them (ty for your consent to harm your guy).

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

ok you KNOW THIS but now i have to tell the internet and also whatever rival crews people who follow me but do not know this already.

for those of you who don’t know: back when buzzfeed unsolved was still running, the boys did a mid week q&a show about the episodes called the postmortem. due to a series of shenanigans, shane started doing an after show during the postmortems called the hotdaga: a hot dog saga about animated (stock art) foodstuffs going on adventures throughout the universe that involved magic, war crimes, an alien species he created, and original music. it’s genuinely really good but it is also about food. in like,, 2017 or 2018 me and some friends (including you, steven, you bastard) started playing a dnd campaign taking place during the space war that shane establishes as backstory for the war, and then it spiraled into utter insanity and beauty. it was the first campaign i ever played and it meant a lot to me and so much of it was stupid and TECHNICALLY we were all foodstuffs though very little art reflects that. hex was my character for this campaign. she was a rogue. and also a banana. and i loved her.

✏️ - How often do you draw/write about the OC?

not very often anymore, which makes me a bit sad. one of these days i’m gonna sit down and least write up all of her backstory so i can set it upon the rest of rival crews lol.

💀 - Does your OC have any phobias?

i BELIEVE i established at one point that she hates spiders. she’s also deeply terrified of getting close to people and losing them again and not being able to save them but that’s less fun.

I used to loved bin roye but watching it now omg saba needed to run away from that family. mfs throwing her into another marriage after the misery she went through from her first one when she clearly just needed therapy was so painful to watch. and the day of her nikah when she had a breakdown after that stupid bitch made her come into his and her sister's bedroom??? nobody was questioning and concern about it??? wallahi I hate her family

this is the common thread through most farhat ishtiaq dramas lol.. she will put her female characters through the absolute ringer in the name of developing them into "strong" characters who can withstand anything including the depraved behavior of those around them. not that this isn't a common thread inherent to many pakistani dramas but the combination of intense psychological trauma and eyeroll-worthy melodrama that makes it hard to take any of the issues posited in her dramas seriously has made me really averse to her storytelling over the years. i can't stand humsafar, i can't stand diyar-e-dil, i can't stand yaqeen ka safar, jo bache hain sang samait lo sounds like a nightmare, etc. admittedly i do have fond memories of mata-e-jaan hain tu and haven't rewatched it to decide whether it still holds up, and i never got around to rehaai or udaari. so yknow, maybe there's hope. but for the most part her dramas indulge far too willingly in the "here is this woman i am going to subject to psychological torture and along the way she'll either fall in love with a man who can take care of all of her needs to begin with or he'll be a dickhead and when things really come to blows he'll magically reform and then he can take care of all of her needs" shtick. and the man always has a dark past he has to contend with or something! he broods! he angsts! it's mind-numbingly typical.

with bin roye specifically though i think the thing that pissed me off was the karmic plot structure. woman loves cousin, cousin marries her sister instead, woman wishes her sister dies, her sister does die, woman feels like shit about it so she decides to get married off to a stranger as punishment, she's miserable, cousin saves her from the marriage and marries her himself, woman is still in her self-hating phases so there's tension, they work it out, cousin falls for her, the end. like beeeeeeeeeee for real. there's some lines from the script that are truly gut-wrenching but at some point i simply could not sit through the "woman incites her own suffering bc she's too immature and brash" shit like it felt so ridiculously punishing. i'm a modern day umera ahmed hater now too but there's an iota more respect that she seems to have for her female characters and bc she doesn't normally pander to melodrama the "suffering" inflicted on her characters is usually of a quite pragmatic nature. it's still depressing as hell to watch and i don't like the outcome most of the time but there's at least some reality to what her characters go through (or at least there is in her older scripts. i'm not a fan of what she's put out post-alif and find it to be very thematically and structurally clunky) and the women aren't stronger because they've suffered. they're simply strong because they are, and they suffer bc of how they exist in society

Hey bestie heeeeeey~

I'm officially caught up with MOC so now I can tell you my feelings~

So, first of all, how dare you? There's no reason for the emotional whiplash I experienced reading this monstrosity (positive with all the love and respect in the world i promise) yet here i am... a further damaged woman lmfao

But forreal though, you have a great ability to pull emotions out of your readers and thats just amazing in my eyes, especially as a fellow writer myself :') theres nothing I love more than making the ppl who read my own fics suffer emotionally so congrats to you!

I love how you write everyone in the story, they are so incredibly flawed and fucked up and human that it just makes me shed a tear. Thats why MC frustrates the HELL out of me, even though I adore her. Her flaws make my ass itch but all i want for her is to heal and be happy in the end (same with the others! I be wanting to punch the shit outta them sometimes 😭)

ESPECIALLY Hongjoong cause my guy is just unhinged but i love his character the most honestly because unhinged is hot to me. Im still kicking my feet and twirling my hair lmao

The relationships are so real and just... messy. Messy messy in the best way. But i just have to cheer them all on.

That chapter when mc and yeosang banged I was quite literally going bonkers like HELLO?????????????? I didnt expect that but now i want more of it cause their dynamic (especially when it comes to wooyoung) is so juicy

MC is such a tragic character and I feel for her the most. I love how we started off thinking Jisung was this great person but turns out that hes a fucking lunatic. You, Caly literally manipulated us into thinking so, like how Jisung manipulated MC and idk if that was intentional or not but it was brilliant. And Hyunwoo turning out to be like *that* was a punch in the gut. MC being betrayed by the ppl she cared for so much makes her question everything on the crew, especially Hongjoong and that's why I cant be too frustrated with her lol

I dont want this ask to be so long cause i can go in about every little detail 😭 but youve dont such an amazing job. The world building is beautiful, and i dont rly read a lot of scifi like fictions set in space, but when i first got into ateez the first thing i thought of were pirates / space pirates and i even started my own fic with that premise bc i cant help myself but be self indulgent trash so 🤷🏼‍♀️ but thats beside the point

I cant wait to read more of this masterpiece and see how things go. I want everyone to be happy cause you are putting them through the fucking ringer 😭😭😭 please go easy on them I cant take more of this 😭😭😭😭

hehe emotional whiplash is my specialty!!! i too am very much damaged after writing moc. and the damage will continue. for the good of the plot!!!

i'm so touched you think so, i really love evoking emotion out of the reader in my works and i'm glad that im effective in doing so <3 one of my goals from the start of writing moc was to create an mc who isn't always likable or enjoyable to read bc i find those sorts of stories unrealistic and sometimes boring, because even tho the setting is very much not real, having characters who do feel real has always been huge to me! i love creating characters who have peaks and valleys, who grow and stumble along the way, and to really show a journey of growth!! hongjoong is just. pure insanity at its finest LOL he's gonna take a lot to fix but we'll see!

i honestly had way too much fun writing that chapter too, i love love looooooove a good hatefuck and it was just too tempting to NOT do >.<

it was fully intentional to sort of bring the readers in on the manipulation yes hehe! i like playing my cards very close to my chest and not giving anything away until the absolute last second i can!!! i think you hit on something lots of people who want her to just give into hongjoong forget - she's experienced so much betrayal from the people she trusted most and that does really stick in the brain and cause lasting trauma, and our poor mc is deeply traumatized by many things that have happened to her! it only makes sense for her to be retaliating and distrustful of those around her in these circumstances!!

thank you so much for enjoying everything so far and for all the lovely compliments they really mean so much to me i cherish them a lot 🥹🥹❤️❤️

AH OK @rose-nebulijia asked about Theatre AU part 4 and vishie i love you u are the love of my life i am sending u soft and gentle kisses.

idk if this will be the final part or not? unclear yet (I’m gonna say probably not bc I love this au way too much so I’m sure that I’ll find something else to do with it) but anyway I HAVE to explore zhang rishan in that universe i HAVE to. I was talking about it with @highpriestessofjogan the other day bc i had reread the theatre au and was like “wow zhang rishan is a mess. like hyper-competent, but absolutely a mess” and that’s SO INTERESTING TO ME???

this one’s going to be a little bit more serious in tone than the other theatre au pieces, partially bc of that, but also because this one is really more of a reflection of my journey as an artist and a theatre maker, especially during the pandemic. i identify with zhang rishan in this au a LOT, and having been getting back into theatre as of late I’m having a lot of feelings about it and reflecting on that type of thing and now it’s time to put Zhang Rishan through that ringer lmao.

It’s very much about isolation and art and Hamlet (as always lol) and theatre and trying to find your place in an industry that doesn’t have space for you. It’s also about finding happiness outside of productivity and work, and learning to live and feel and be without constantly attempting to make it about something, which is definitely a problem I struggle with. So far it’s dramatic and beautiful and I’m sooooo excited to finish and share it bc idk it’s going to be a piece that means a lot to me, I think. Kind of like i wish you would love me.

also foba get married :) here’s a snippet!!!

“I’m marrying Ba-ye,” Fo-ye murmurs to himself, even though Zhang Rishan is in the room. Or maybe he is talking to Zhang Rishan, because he turns to him in the next moment, his smile trembling and candescent, seeking some sort of warmth that he himself possesses in spades.

“You’re marrying Ba-ye,” Zhang Rishan agrees, and doesn’t stand up. His hands twitch, wanting to help Fo-ye with the tie, but he doesn’t think that it’s his place to be doing so.

“Did you ever think that would happen?” Fo-ye asks, going back to the mirror, and Zhang Rishan doesn’t know if he really wants an answer, but he thinks about it anyway, so that he can give Fo-ye a good one.

The easy one is yes, because Zhang Rishan had thought that it would, from the moment he saw Ba-ye and Fo-ye together. They looked like soulmates, fated to be together by the tendril threads of the universe, knit up just like a kiss. They looked like they would slide easily against each other, friction negligible, something so, so easy. Zhang Rishan isn’t jealous of them, exactly, because what Ba-ye and Fo-ye have is special, and not everyone in the world deserves that.

Still. He thinks it might be nice.

GLOW

SPOILERS

You’ve been warned. Sorry this is so long, but the book was 700 pages so 🤷‍♀️

.

Starting from Kaila’s pov. Really? After that ending? Here we go.

Poor Slade :(

Okay so Slade and Ryatt’s dad is a dick. Going back for one last group of Oreans when they don’t even like them and then choosing an Orean to be his wife. I feel like he used her for breeding but I’m also confused as to why if they look down on Oreans so much. He started in Annwyn and was born after the bridge was destroyed so how did he and his brother get to Orea?

Why does Slade age 8 keep scratching at his arms??? Is his power starting to emerge??

The answer is yes. His power was starting to emerge. Safe to say Slade has a protective nature. His poor mama 😭😭😭

Slade: “Wake up and argue with me, Goldfinch” Awww ❤️❤️❤️ My heart. This reminds me of a line from the book/movie The Choice. I love it!

Awww Judd brought Hojat. 😊😊

LOL, Os and Rissa. This is going to be so good. I wonder how long before they’re making out.

Yay, she’s awake!!! 🥳🥳🥳

God, every time he calls her baby it hits my heart hard, and for some reason makes me think of the movie The Choice

I want them to talk so bad, but she should be able to live in avoid it land for a little while, before she goes digging through all that pain again.

LOL she can’t cook. 🤣🤣🤣

Awww Digby. Of course he’d be the one she couldn’t lie to about being fine.

Oh my god, I hope bringing Poppy with her was worth it, because she’s kind of being a bitch to Rissa. I’m loving Rissa and Os though. He put their tents next to each other 🥰❤️🥰❤️🥰❤️

Awww Digby stayed just for her! This book is putting my heart through the ringer.

Slade: “Absolutely fucking not” 😍😍😍

So she’s been able to choose solid gold or flowy gold. I’m starting to wonder if not being able to use it at night is a subconscious choice that she’s unaware of. - I was half right. She can’t gild new things, but she can manipulate what she’s already gilded. Can she remove it at night though? 🤔🤔🤔

Why is Malina so special? I’m still so unclear on her story, but I’m also very curious to figure it out. Why her? She already had a kingdom, but no magic so how can she be the one destined to save Seventh Kingdom? - After finishing the book, now I know. I don’t want to call her a dumbs because I feel a little sorry for her but maybe naive is a better description.

Did Slade somehow tear open a new bridge between worlds? Is that why they call him Rip? Is that how they got there? How he finally got his mother and brother away from their father? Why does Ryatt not want him there? - Okay so confirmed he ripped open a doorway and that’s how they got there, but no one has come through since and no has gone back. 🤔🤔🤔

Damn. The second Elore said 11 years I was like Ryatt isn’t Stanton’s son, he’s Jaks’ and I was right.

Digby: “Don’t speak about my lady in that tone.” Oh damn! Look at Digby channeling Azriel. This line makes me so giddy 😊😊😊💕💕💕

Yay!!! She can control the gold!!!

Okay, I’m on Chapter 44 from Queen Malina’s POV and she’s describing the castle and how she never sees anyone else, but there’s always food, water for a bath, and her bed is always made. This is giving me major she was lured there so she could be sacrificed vibes. I’m hoping that’s not the case, but that’s what I’m feeling. Lets go find out.

Okay, I don’t know exactly how the magic of this world works. What the twins are saying seems possible, but anytime there’s a blood sacrifice and someone says ‘Don’t worry, it’s only a few drops of blood.’ I go on high alert and get super suspicious. Like it feels too much like a coincidence that to restore Seventh Kingdom they need a few drops of blood from a pure Orean royal. Let’s find out if I’m right.

Now the assassin who is supposed to kill her is warning her that things in the castle aren’t right. I’m curious why he doesn’t just kill her. I mean that’s what he’s there for. Why not get it over with? And what are the twins and Pruinn really trying to do? Are they trying to return Seventh Kingdom to glory? Are they trying to reopen the bridge to Annwyn?

They keep saying she’s smart, but every time she’s on the path to getting what she wants it’s like she’s got blinders on to anything that will take that away. I want to feel bad for her, but she’s so focused on getting “what she deserves” that she believes what she’s being told without question.

Oh my goodness. All this talk of tight pants has me thinking about Firefly when Kaylee calls Mal Cap’n Tight Pants 🤣🤣🤣 If you know, you know. 😉

He pinched her ass!! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

I feel like Queen Kaila and Manu are using the Conflux as an excuse to get Auren and either imprison her or kill her so she can’t “steal” anyone else’s power. I also feel like it’s an excuse to try and get rid of Slade too.

Lol Argo likes cookies, and he let her pet him! 😊❤️

NOOOOO!!!! RISSAAAAAAAA!!!! How are she and Os supposed to get together if she’s DEAD?! 😭😭😭😭😭😭

Manu you fucking asshole. I liked you so much to begin with, but now you have to go on the shit list. You also just made the biggest mistake of your life.

Damn! Os took off so fast. Poor Os 😭

Okay, so Rissa is only mostly dead. Way to bury the lead Hojat.

The guard killed her and then slit his throat. That’s the lamest theory. If that was his plan why was he so far away from her?

I really hope Rissa makes it.

Oh, he’s pissed. They’re in so much trouble.

This Second Kingdom Queen is a bit cray cray in my opinion. 😳😳

Poor Slade 😭😭

NOOOOO!!! ARGOOOOOOO!!!! I hope Slade doesn’t rot him or leave him there 😭😭😭

Ummm excuse me? Queen bitch can do what now? She can change what people said with her power? That’s bullshit.

OH MY FUCKING GOD

That was a roller coaster there at the end. I really thought she was going to die. Then I thought Slade was going to get her out. Then he couldn’t get through the shield and I thought he was going to have to watch her die. Then he ripped open the world again and they had to say goodbye for now. Then Slade and Ryatt went to Deadwell only to find out that the people and rip are gone. HOLY FUCK 😳😳😳🤯🤯🤯😵😵😵💀💀💀

Then we’ve got Malina so rapped up in herself that she helps these guys restore the bridge between realms which is good and bad. Bad because it sounds like the Fae want to conquer Orea. Why? Weren’t they the ones who destroyed the bridge in the first place? Good because it means Auren could find her way back or Slade could find his way to her in Annwyn.

You know what we DON’T know though? IF RISSA MADE IT THROUGH SURGERY!! 😡😡😡😭😭😭

I thought this was the last book, but APPARENTLY NOT. I guess there’s supposed to be one or two more books. I don’t know if my heart and feels can take two more books. This one was a lot.

Bergamot and Campfires

zuko x reader

teeth rotting fluffy fluff (angst if you squint? idk)

a lot of the time my writing is how I cope with my panic attacks in the middle of the night- that’s why a lot of the content is either soft or super soft lol

also my boi zuko deserves a break from being put through the ringer sometimes lbr

Today was not the day to cross me. It had started when I’d spilled the last of my favorite tea blend only minutes after I woke up. I tripped over a small bundle of food that Katara had left behind as she went about cooking breakfast further toward the center of our campsite.

But I clenched my jaw and stalked off to find something to wash it with. Though it probably wouldn’t stain, I hated the feeling of the sticky sweetness that was often left behind by its leaves.

~

Luckily, there was a river nearby. Though barely a trickle of water, it would have to do if I wasn’t to reek of bergamot for the next few days before we moved the campsite again.

I let my shirt fall over my shoulders before a rustle in the trees alerted me to the presence of someone else. I whipped my dagger out of my boot and wielded it against the sound- a badgerfrog who croaked at me questioningly before hopping into the small stream. I let out a sigh of relief before resheathing my blade. I pulled my shirt off further, and shoved it into the water. I scrubbed at the now-dried area, letting my anger scrub its scent out of the fabric.

~

I returned to the campsite with a soaking wet shirt, only to find Sokka furiously stitching my tent.

“What did you do?” I know it sounded accusatory, but to be honest most of the wear and tear of our gear came from overzealous training or discussions.

“I was just…I didn’t see…I threw Boomerang too hard and it came back at a different angle than I thought it would,” he blurted. He shrunk down before showing me the needle. “I don’t think it’ll be pretty but…I’m sorry.”

I wanted to scream at him until my voice went hoarse, but he was probably just as stressed as I was. Instead, I called out: “Zuko, you’re better at sewing than dumb-dumb over here. Can you fix it?”

He opened an eye from underneath the shade of the tree above him. “Fix what?”

I gestured to both the tent and surrounding idiot. “Fix this.”

“I can fix the tent. Can’t fix him.”

“Whatever works,” I replied with a venom I didn’t intend. I didn’t want to say something I would regret, so I walked into the woods behind the site as quickly as I could until I was out of earshot.

~

Soon night fell, and I had to get back to the group before anyone got worried. We had enough to be nervous about- I wouldn’t want to worry anyone even more.

The flicker of the fire served as my beacon. Even though I loved them, none of the original five of us could make a raging fire to save our lives. It was always a flicker here or a flicker there, never a warm wind on our faces.

Though the fire raged, the only person left by its light was Zuko. He sat perched on a rock nearby. Just far enough that he wouldn’t smell of burning wood, but close enough to feel its warmth.

I sat down beside him, the cool moss underneath my feet soothed the ache from walking around the woods all day.

Before I could process it, tears began to stream down my face. I tried to sniffle quietly, but it wasn’t long before Zuko broke the silence that hummed in the air.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He shifted closer to me, nudging his knee against my own. He lifted my chin with a whisper of a touch, pressed a kiss to my forehead. Golden irises, alight with the flickering flames of the now raging fire, scanned my own. I knew he was searching for an answer that I didn’t even know myself at this point.  

I shook my head, burying my face in his freshly washed shirt. He wrapped me in his arms, pressing a hand to the back of my head.

The echo of the crackling fire bounced off the walls of the ravine. He sat with me for…well, I don’t even know how long before the frog in my throat found its way into the world. “It feels hopeless sometimes,” I murmured. He gently pushed me backward, taking my face in his hands as he wiped away the streaks of tears. “Every time we find some small victory, or small moment of happiness, there’s someone new who wants to destroy everything and everyone. And I don’t understand it. And because I don’t understand it I feel like I’m useless. Like every part of this team has its purpose-except me. I don’t know where I belong anymore, or who to trust, or who to listen to.”

“You’re not useless,” he stated quickly. “I don’t know who would be able to keep us all from killing each other on any given day.” He crossed his legs, clearly settling in for the long haul. “I know it feels like a lot right now. I know this isn’t going to fix everything, but just know that you’re allowed to be overwhelmed. We’re all feeling it.”

“I just…” The rest of my answer couldn’t find its way out of my throat.

“You don’t have to respond,” he declared quickly. “You should probably head in for the night. I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

I nodded silently, watching intently as he stood. He offered me one hand, then quickly the other. I gladly took both, standing on still-shaking knees. He let go of my left hand, but held the right more firmly. He led me to my freshly re-stitched tent. Even though it looked absolutely terrible- like he’d gone around the tear hundreds of times before finally getting everything in one piece. I ran my fingers over it, admiring its imperfection.

I let the weight of my body fall into the comfort of my sleeping bag. I stared at the ceiling, listening to the crickets for a moment before the crunch of dirt underfoot broke the silence. He sat in the corner, cross-legged, leaning back onto a patch of moss. I turned on my side before sliding under the covers and patting beside me. “Don’t be stupid,” I laughed.

“Well, I didn’t know,” he muttered, obliging quickly. “I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

“Don’t be stupid,” I replied again. I laid my head on the palm of my hand, and wrapped an arm over his chest.

A soft snort shook his chest before he took his hand in mine. “Go to sleep,” he laughed.

“I know, I know,” I responded. The crickets grew louder as a silence fell over us. “Good night.”

“Good night, beautiful.”

✶ 𝐇𝐗𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒: 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 & 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒, 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 & 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍   Long story short, I have been thinking about this for wayyyyy too long now and wanted to get some ~thoughts~ & analysis written down! This post is going to be...fairly long, lol. Apologies in advance :D

  Also, if you can’t see the last gif (the one for ‘holy’), click here. Tumblr keeps fucking up the image when i try to upload it :////

  This post is probably going to be about 2/3 yorknew & phantom troupe/kurapika focused, 1/3 chimera ants, maybe with some references to other arcs (including manga-only arcs) mixed in. so, ofc, tons of spoilers ahead! also, i realize that my blog theme is hard to read (and i’m p sure clicking ‘keep reading’ sends you to the og post itself), so i’m linking the post w/ full text copy/pasted in on my art backup side blog (which has a more legible font) here. 

✶ 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇   I’m sure absolutely nobody is surprised with me starting here - there is just. SO. MUCH. DEATH. in hxh. & right from the start, one thing I noticed that togashi really emphasized was the #4 and its connection to death. in japanese, chinese, and im p sure some other asian cultures the number 4 is pronounced like the word for death so it’s associated with death in general, and boy oh boy does the ‘deadly number 4′ thing show up E V E R Y W H E R E. we get to the hunter exam, and hisoka is applicant #44. kurapika is #404. i didn’t notice it at first, but this was so intentional holy shit. togashi is NOT SUBTLE.

  So pika & hisoka are, right off the bat, associated with death. okay. and then there are even more clues to drive the point home: hisoka is member #4 in the phantom troupe, kurapika’s birthday is april 4th (aka 4/4). 100% not a coincidence (!!). with hisoka, it’s pretty obvious why togashi’s throwing all this death 444444 stuff around - dude is a psycho murder pedo clown, literally gets off on killing people (and there’s also the fact that judas sits 4th from the left in the last supper painting, and he’s sort of the judas equivalent for the phantom troupe). with kurapika, though, it’s a bit more subtle and woven deeper into his characterization, which i LOVE. togashi puts the mans in blue & gold & white (traditionally ‘pure’ or ‘heavenly’ colors), makes him so fucking kind & so good-hearted.....when he’s not relentlessly pursuing his revenge, ofc. more on this in the next section, but pika = death. togashi has made that v v v clear.

  Backtracking a bit to hisoka, though, I also just wanted to point out the 4 is death symbolism in the fortunes too (GOD i love the fortunes): in one translation, he’s the false fourth moon, and in the og japanese (i think), he’s the false hare (4th in the lunar zodiac or w/e it’s called. i don’t know the japanese cultural influences here, but in the chinese legend that established the zodiac animals, they race across the heavenly river & the top 12 animals got zodiac slots. the hare finished 4th, so it’s #4 in the cycle). 

  And just as a final note, Tserriednich is the fourth prince of the kakin empire, and also another dude who has a hard-on for murder & other gory shit. again: togashi is not subtle with this, lmfao

✶ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐘, 𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐘   As probably everyone who’s gotten to yorknew knows, togashi is so 0 fucks given when he wants to be. I mean there’s the whole thing where he just. took New York and decided, Yorknew. LMFAO, but also, he made the main antag of that arc be named chrollo lucilfer, sit around in a ruined church, have a reversed cross coat, pale & dark-haired/dark-eyed, generally dressed in dark colors, very terrible murder guy. liiiike......chrollo x devil symbolism game is 1000/10 at this point lmaooo

  And i know absolutely nothing about christianity in general, but pt/kurapika & yorknew arc is just so full of christian imagery/symbolism! one thing that i L O O O O O O V E though is how togashi really blurs the traditional christian-coded good/evil, holy/damned boundaries.

  Back to kurapika: he wears gold and blue, his coloring is very stereotypically ‘angelic’, he’s precious and good and kind. his chains are all about ~judgment~ and ~healing~ - some of the chains are also in literal cross shapes, aren’t they? And the chain dagger in his own heart...the imagery is very startlingly similar to the immaculate heart of mary, where the swords stabbing thru the heart apparently represent seven sorrows. IDK much about this stuff other than the visual similarities; literally had to google ‘daggers through heart christianity?’ to even get the name of that thing LOL. anyway, at first, it seems like togashi establishes him as the ‘angel’, the ‘good’, the ‘holy’ in the angel/devil, good/evil, holy/damned dichotomy between him and chrollo.

  But that’s not the end of the story. his entire storyline is driven by a huuuuuuuge giant desire for vengeance, first of all, and then there’s the scarlet eyes, which canonically are seen as demonic/cursed/what have you (according to one of the movies or smth? where they show pika as a 10 y/o?), and then we also have red eyes in modern culture being associated w pretty much the same thing (vampires, anyone?). the fight scene with uvo has everything in b&w besides the blood on his face & his red eyes & the moon (<<< more fortune foreshadowing & symbolism, i love to see it), and there are tonssss of scenes where he has to suppress his rage. so all of that is obviously not very angelic of him i would say LOL. in fact, what i find super interesting is that the scarlet/red eyes (which are ‘demonic’) is actually the driving factor behind his super powerful nen abilities; this ties in so well with the fortunes & death associations imo! the fortunes call him the ‘death-bringer’ in one translation, or ‘half-angel, half-death’, so that’s one side of pika = red eyes = death, but there’s also the fact that emperor time is literally draining his life force. so pika = death for both himself and others namely the pt, question mark?

  Now for chrollo: togashi’s devil symbolism is EXTREMELY overt with him, but i love the subtler jesus references too. the church thing, obviously, and the st. peters cross which is cuz st peter respected jesus too much & didn’t think he was worthy to die in the same way as him (or something like that, i am the most atheist person in the world & hxh is literally my entire christian education pls) but is also used as an anti-christianity symbol these days. bandit’s secret looks like a bible, lbr, and mans has a cross tattoo.

  Other things beyond visuals - 12 spiders, 12 apostles; hisoka’s betrayal, where member #4 can be thought to correspond to judas sitting 4th from left at last supper. and this miiiiight be a bit of a stretch, but i think the meteor city being the place of origin may also play into the blurred line between angel/devil and holy/damned here; meteors are defined as space rocks that are in earth’s atmosphere, becoming incandescent in the process. meteorites are for the kinds that actually reach the ground. and idk, lucifer was cast out of heaven / sky too right? so i think there might be some subtle fallen angel imagery/symbolism playing into the pt as well

✶ 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 (𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒)   Last section yay! i don’t have as much to say about this, besides when i was making chimera ant arc edits & realized that there might have been some subtle gon/meruem parallels???

  So obviously, everyone knows that line killua says to gon - “you are light” - and then i was just remembering that meruem’s name means.... “light that illuminates all” (!!!!). maybe it’s a coincidence, but knowing togashi, i’m leaning towards nahhhh. there HAS TO be some kinda meaning there (!!).

  Going back to the events of the chimera ant arc....ooh boy. let’s see: gon is optimistic & hopeful even in the face of kite potentially being dead, killua says he’s light, they find kite & dude is fucked up, gon is pissed. gets all angry & ~dark~, especially during the palace invasion when he’s staring pitou down as she fixes up komugi. then the actual fight against pitou: more darkness, more anger, but through it all there’s still light, namely his jajanken being very orange & fiery lookin.....and that final sequence, where he puts all his possible nen he’d ever have into his ~final form~ or wahtever & turns into a male version of true form!bisky but dressed in a crop top & short-shorts (i am SCARRED, btw. s c a r r e d !). there’s just huuuge flashes of light as that’s going on, and it reminded me of supernovas or dying stars when i was thinking about it, where the star is like, collapsing under its own weight? & burning thru its own fuel, until there’s nothing left except a dwarf or black hole or what have you. one final, extremely deadly burst of light & energy before death.

  On the meruem side of things: born into a dark cave, exhibits a traditionally evil/cruel/wicked/whatever personality/traits so that has ppl associating him with darkness. then he gets to know komugi, starts to appreciate other aspects of humanity, seems like he could have actually turned into a decent person who doesn’t want to eat everyone - so that’s a ‘path to light’, maybe? - and then the extermination team yeets themselves into the palace, netero takes him out to bumfuck nowhere, they fight. netero’s fighting is just ALL light, from his giant ass golden 100-type guanyin bodhisattva to the poor man’s rose. again, there’s the sense of finality to it all, in a similar vein to dying stars: netero comes in determined to kill meruem no matter what, and we all know netero doesn’t flake. then we see netero get destroyed after the zero hand, and he triggers the rose, and everything is burning & on fire before the flames are put out and all turns dark again.

  But wait!!! pouf & youpi revive meruem and all he does is play gungi with komugi, even with the poison of the rose. he eventually dies, and the gungi pieces in that final shot of them together (i am BAWLING just thinking about it holy shit) has one that’s all white, one that’s a black ring and white inside. i assume all white is for komugi, who has never done ANYTHING wrong in her LIFE, so i like to think that the 2nd one is for meruem - born “into darkness”, literally & figuratively, but he turns something like ‘good’ by the end. it’s interesting how togashi has sort of gone for a bit of a subversion here: the hero going from light to darkness, and the main antag from darkness to light.

✶ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍   AahhhhHHHHHhhh so if you read all the way down here through my LONG rambles, tysm! i would LOVE LOVE LOVE to hear what other people think about all this, and i’ve FOR SURE missed tons and tons of stuff - chimera ants is just. SO MUCH. and i don’t know it as well as yorknew eeek.

  I’m not sure if i’m really ~knowledgeable~ in any other areas relating to hxh, so this might be the only one of these that i do, but i definitely think about some of this - esp all the religious symbolism & #4 stuff - a ton! so in the meantime, if it’s of any interest, i’m just going to shamelessly plug my hxh x religious beliefs/superstitions edit series :D lots of love to all!!!

Message Recieved- Part 2

Part two of the fuckboi Beej idea that @beetlejuicebeadoll thought of!

Warnings: mention of hypnosis, stalking, general creepy beej, light hints of sexual frustration

-----------------

Ding.... Ding.... Ding.... Ding

       You refused to look up, what was the point? You already knew which jackass it was that was spamming you this late at night. The only douchebag who never went on silent, no matter how many times you tried turning off the ringer. 

Ding... Ding... Ding... Ding... DingDingDingDing

With a few choice expletives snarled under your breath, you snatched up your phone, "Can you shut the fuck up already? I'm reading it!" You snapped to the empty air, hoping the bastard was close enough to hear you. Fuck, you barely had to hope, he never seemed to stray far now. You scanned the texts, your irritation growing with each word. 

🐞🥤: hey, hey babes 

🐞🥤: I'm booored 

🐞🥤: at least put on some TV or somethinggg 

🐞🥤: babes, stop ignoring meeeee 

🐞🥤: I'm dying heeeere 

🐞🥤: figuratively lol 

🐞🥤: hey, whatever happened to the sexy shorts?? 

🐞🥤: can we bring those back?? I miss them 

🐞🥤: babes, are u still ignoring me?? 

🐞🥤: baaabes 

"Don't you have something better to do with your life?" You snarled, glaring at the empty air. 

🐞🥤: not living, babes. 

"You fucking know what I mean, you dickbag!" 

🐞🥤: ooh keep talking dirty babes 

       You threw the phone this time, an almost too common occurrence ever since this creep decided to situate himself in his life. The fact that any of this could be common was crazy, but apparently humans could get used to anything and in the past few weeks of being haunted, you found that you were more irritated by the pervy spirit currently possessing your phone than actually scared. After all, all he could really do here was annoy you through the phone, he couldn't affect anything else or really cause trouble without you saying his name three times and since that wasn't happening anytime soon, the both of you were more or less stuck with one another. At least until you could figure out a way to get him out of your phone. 

       Ding, ding, ding the sound of your phone made you sigh, but you turned on the tv and just tried to ignore it now. Beetlejuice loved getting under your skin, constantly flirting and joking around, just trying to either make you blush or piss you off - usually succeeding with both. Every day ended with him begging you to say his name to no avail, and then every night he would torment you with stupid dreams. That was the worst part of it all. Every single time you tried to go to sleep, you saw him, could feel his rough hands pinning you down, felt his lips painting a sweltering path along your skin as he growled his devotion to you. You dreamt of those sharp teeth of his gleaming in the light, hovering just above your neck as a cocky smirk spread across his face, you had woken up begging for him to bite you, thankfully you hadn't said his name, but it was getting just far too close these past few nights. And the worst part was that no matter how desperately needy you woke up, you couldn't do anything but take a cold shower and try and not think about the promises he had hissed in your ear in your dreams while the fucking bastard acted like he had done nothing wrong. It was frustrating and even when you tried to ask him, he would just get all the more cocky with you and ask you all sorts of questions about your dreams as if he wasn't the one causing it. Prick. Well, you weren't going to just give him a free show - and besides, the idea of him just watching you was.... ding, ding, ding. God. Fucking. Dammit. 

🐞🥤: u know, babes 

🐞🥤: u've been looking awfully tense lately 

🐞🥤: I could help out u no.

You scoffed, shaking your head, but you didn't dignify that with a response. 

🐞🥤: nothing pervy ya know, a little massage

🐞🥤: I'm real good w/ my hands u know

🐞🥤: just an offer

Having his hands on you was the last thing you needed right now! Implications of what freeing him would actually do aside, if he was this distracting just living in your phone, you shuddered to think of the mischief he could get into if he was free. 

       "I'd be a lot less tense if you moved out of my phone and found someone else to fuck with." You deadpanned. 

🐞🥤: 😢 hurtful, babes 

🐞🥤: I LIKE being here with you tho

🐞🥤: ur pretty and cool and all, sides 

🐞🥤: u summoned me, can't leave til my name is called and all that 

How the hell that worked, you had absolutely no clue. You did know that swiping right on tinder did not equal a summoning, but then again, what did you know about summoning a ghost demon fuckboi? "Got anything else?" Why you asked, you didn't know. The smart thing would have been to just leave the phone there and go to bed, hope that you could get through the night without any more frustration, but the thought of going back to those dreams and not having an outlet for them.... yeah, not how you wanted to spend another night. 

🐞🥤: hmm 

🐞🥤: I've got one trick, but I dunno if U'll be up 4 it. 

You should back out now. You should just step away and find something better to do with your time. "What's that?" 

🐞🥤: Texting isn't all I can do. 

For a moment, you were confused, you knew he could somehow send pictures. They were blurry as all hell, but got the point across. And the thought of asking him if he meant what you thought he did was enough to make you want to self combust right then and there. 

🐞🥤: .... my voice is weird tho 

Oh. Oh. How did that work? "You can call me?" You pressed, curious now. Silence. The screen went black and a mass of unintelligible letters popped up as a distorted ringtone echoed through the apartment. Now would be a great time to collect your brain cell and run. Maybe to a church or something, stop being the main white lead in every horror film and perhaps not be possessed by a being you barely knew anything about - why were you answering the phone? 

       Static rippled through the speaker, the person on the other line drew in a trembling breath. 

       "Hey babes." His voice was low, gravelly, it sent a tingle down your spine. 

       "H...hey..." what were you even supposed to talk about now? "Your voice isn't weird." Perhaps it was the nerves, perhaps your own awkwardness, but thankfully Beetlejuice laughed, a soft, deep chuckle that somehow made you join in as well until the sound turned cold, intimidating, almost threatening. 

       "Just wait. You ain't seen nothin' yet." The desire to drop the phone and run was back, but you were glued in place. "Breathe, babes. Can't have you passing out on me yet." You exhaled a shaky breath you hadn't noticed you were holding in. "Good. Relax now, I ain't gonna do anything scary." Almost against your will, tense muscles relaxed and you leaned back against the couch, eyes falling shut. You hadn't lied, his voice wasn't weird, it was nice, almost too nice. Though he never raised his tone above a husky purr,  it filled you, his voice was your entire world. "Better. Now, what's got you so tense, huh, doll?" 

       "You do." The response was automatic, you couldn't have stopped yourself if you tried. 

       "Just me? Come on, that can't be it. You were tense when I got here." He was right, you couldn't blame all of your frustrations on him, there had been a reason you had been scrolling through tinder from the beginning, after all. 

       "I...." 

       "You can be honest with me, you know. You're lonely, just like me, aren't you?" The words were settling in your bones, dragging out those thoughts you had been pushing down. 

       "Yes." A breath, a relieved exhale that made your heart twist violently in your chest. 

       "Isn't it better to be truthful with yourself?" You found yourself nodding in response. "You can depend on me, I won't let you be lonely anymore.  You don't even have to say my name, just don't chase me away, let me stay by your side just like this." Just like this? How was this satisfying for him? Bound within your phone, invisible and formless, only able to reach out from within a screen - it had to be torture. 

       "Why me?" The question shocked both of you and the spell that had settled over you shattered. "How is this good?" You pressed forwards, and for once, you had rendered Beetlejuice silent. "Why didn't you just force me to say your name or something? Don't you want to be free?" 

       "I..." it was his turn to flounder.

       "Better yet, why stay here? Why waste your time on me at all? I'm not giving you what you want so why don't you just leave?" 

       "I just... I..." 

       "You don't know anything about me anyways, Beetlejuice, I'm not that treat of a person, why cling to me like this?" 

       "I DO KNOW YOU!" His purr had become a wail and even as your phone slipped from your fingers, his voice came through the speaker clear as ever. "I know you." He repeated, insistent. "I know how you speak to yourself when you're alone, how you laugh at your own jokes and console yourself when you're sad. I know how you like to fall asleep watching old crime shows, but will get so scared that you wrap yourself up in your blanket and walk circles around your home to make sure everything is safe. I know that you meet people just to shy away the second they try to get close. I know how your face brightens when you laugh and how your eyes dim when you're sad. I know you hate crying, so you cry in the shower so there'll be no evidence left behind." You were backing away from the phone now, how could he know all of that? He's only been here for a week, right? Your phone was shaking now, the screen sparking with green and blue and red. "I know you because I watched you. Because I love you. Do you know how long I've waited just to be able to talk to you like this? So you would know who I am?" He watched you? He called your name, the sound sharp, imploring. "I just want to be a part of your life. I don't want to be invisible anymore!" Scared wasn't an accurate enough word for how you were feeling in that moment. You felt as if you would be sick. You had to get away from here. Away from him. "W-wait!" As you stepped back, he called for you, as if he could sense what you were doing. "Don't leave me, please. I'll be quiet! I'll stop being so annoying! Babes!" 

       "Stop calling me that!" The scream echoed through the apartment and Beetlejuice fell silent, your phone screen turning a darker purple before it finally turned black - but you were already turning on your heel and running from the apartment.  

1, 2, 3, 7, 9, 13, 17, 23 (some of these are random and some aren't)

Thanks for the many questions, Socks! Sorry I didn’t answer them earlier; I decided answering asks on mobile sucks.  ALSO, this is going to be super long haha sorry.  1.  Tell us about your current project(s)  – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?       Well, my most current project is one I just started brainstorming. It’s (hopefully gonna be) a Fallout 3 series, with my latest fic being the starting point. LW/Fawkes is a ship I liked immediately when I played the series some years ago, but I never got around to writing for it, probably in part because there’s already a super good longfic about them, and I just didn’t think there was much else I could say. But my LW is different from Choco’s LW, and lately I wanted to start something self-indulgent. Although I have enough ideas for this to maybe be a single 30k fic, I’m choosing to do a series of shortfics instead, so that I’m not burdening myself with another long project. Fic series are great in that way, because it’s basically complete with every new fic.       On top of that, I have... probably 3 other things I want to make significant progress on this year. First is another Fallout fic: Same Heart. I’ve posted 8 chapters already and have almost 2 more done, but due to the slow-build nature of it (and my tagging) I don’t expect to have almost any readers until at least chapter 10 (when the ship characters finally meet). I’d like to at least get that far this year.       A project I’d love to finish by fall is the unreleased “The Wilderness”, a Venom zombie AU that I started for NaNoWriMo 2 years ago. It’s about 55% written, and my goal is to have as much of it done as possible before the sequel movie comes out. If it’s not done by then, I still plan to post whatever I have.       And lastly-ish, my novel... thing. Rogue. I’m in the process of editing it, although I’ve taken kind of a break lately. And as soon as I’m done with the edits and can get a couple of people to read it (just so they can tell me if certain parts are stupid and need changed) I plan to start the next book in the series... which will probably end up being book #1, actually, if I do them modern-era chronologically. It’s... gonna be a process. ^^;  2.  Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project.       In my upcoming FO3 fic series, I’m honestly just kind of weirdly looking forward to... how do I put this? Exploring my own vaguely-traumatic experiences through fic. I’ll always do a happy ending, if possible, but before we get there I really want to run these two through the ringer of... being given something they were led to believe was impossible, being judged for it, having it taken away, and then being told “well maybe it’s for the best”.       When it comes to future projects, I guess I’m really excited about writing the new Rogue book. “Reaper”, I guess, is its unimaginative working title. I’m anxious about it, because I thought Rogue had some really deeply emotional scenes, and I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to accomplish that as well with this new one, simply because the characters don’t have the same level of desperation about each other. I need to figure out what’s unique about their dynamic and push that. I guess I’m looking forward to the challenge.  3.  What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)       Hmm gosh. Technically there’s a scene in the later chapters of Mobius that I already wrote, but it wouldn’t take place until probably chapter 3 or later, and I just lost all steam on that fic, sadly. But every time I poke through my notes I make myself cry reading it. It’s a scene where one character knows it’s going to be the last time he sees the person he loves most, and he can’t explain his pain to anyone. I really just want to get there so I can see if it makes other people cry like babies haha.       But on a completely unrelated note, there’s also this ZADR fic I started writing in like 2009, and I absolutely didn’t want to do the work to get to the fun middle scenes, but basically it was an AU where young adult Dib went to live/work in the thriving multi-species space community, where he’s... I dunno, studying alien biology I think?, and he ends up with Zim as a roommate. The scenes I really wanted to write were about the two of them getting into like a bar fight with some tough types, and Zim gets his pak ripped off/damaged in the process, and Dib has to sort of take care of him through a horrible fever. But then it turns out that the pak was not a life-support system like they thought, but actually a growth inhibitor so they (the people in charge of the Irkens) could choose who became the Tallest (the leaders). (And also it hindered reproduction, etc.) So basically the two of them accidentally start to unravel a galactic conspiracy which also involves corruption in the Earth government, etc, and Zim gets taller but spoiler alert, he still doesn’t get tall enough to challenge the Tallest lol. Sadly, I doubt I’ll ever actually write that fic. Sounds like too much effort lol.  7.  What do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? Would others agree?       That’s such a hard question. Ummm. How do I put any of that into words? ...I think one of the things about my writing is that a lot of the time nothing really happens in a scene, and the story mostly focuses on a character thinking. Like, enough happens so there’s something for them to think about, but I think I tend to put a lot of emphasis on POV character’s thoughts, to the point of sometimes seeming stream-of-consciousness. I’ve been told that this makes my stories feel alive though? So I think it appeals to some people, though I’m sure others would find such stories boring.       Oh also, somewhat along these lines, I like to add commentary that is only somewhat relevant, usually in parenthesis at the end of a sentence or paragraph. (Honestly, it’s not unusual to see one in every paragraph if I’m writing something slightly humorous.)  9.  Are you more of a drabble or a longfic kind of writer? Pantser or plotter? Do you wish you were the other?      I would LOVE to write primarily longfics! However, I just don’t have the time or energy for it, and I don’t write fast enough. So I end up with a lot of oneshots under 10k. I had to challenge myself to learn to write short things though, and then it’s really about writing something short, not about writing a specific story.       Generally, I’m both pantster and plotter. I tend to write the first chapter/few scenes/maybe as much as 10k, just by the seat of my pants. After that, I look at what I’ve got and write out a plot to continue from there. Plotting everything out before I start just doesn’t work for me, but if I try “pantsing” anything longer than 15k I know I’m gonna have an absolute torturous hell of a time.  13.  Do you share your writing online? (Drop a link!) Do you have projects you’ve kept just for yourself?      Lol I think anyone who’s reading this knows I share my stuff online. Primarily on my AO3, though there’s some other stuff floating around here on tumblr too.  Most of the time if I keep something to myself it’s only because it’s not finish enough to share. So, sure, there’s plenty of that, but the goal is always to share it eventually. If I ever get around to finishing a novel, those will probably be the only things I don’t just post online. (Though I do post most of my OC stuff currently.)  17.  Do you think readers perceive your work - or you - differently to you? What do you think would surprise your readers about your writing or your motivations?       I think that inevitably my readers will always perceive me and my writing a bit differently than I do. That’s just... interacting with people. Nobody knows you entirely. However, I am as open and honest in my writing as possible, and I actually think that reading my fic is the best way to get to know me. I like to hope that I am an open book to anyone who has read many of my words. =] While you may not know the details of my life, I think you would have a good insight into my personality.    23.  What’s the story idea you’ve had in your head for the longest?       Like... my oldest fic/story that I’ve never written or posted? Not counting stuff I’ve consciously abandoned (things from middle school, mostly), my original fic series, “Damsel and Company in Distress” aka DamselCo. is definitely my oldest story. I think I started fiddling with it in 2006-- which makes it pretty disappointing that it’s gotten next to nowhere. XD; But the story is my baby, and it’s been my baby for so long that anyone who’s followed me ever is probably at least vaguely familiar with a few of the characters.  Now maybe one day I’ll actually give it the attention it deserves, though I’m sure it’ll need significant revamping. After all, a lot has changed in 14+ years. Ideas that were new and subversive then are probably already stale. 

My Trashy Pro Opinions

Some anon’s asked for this and I am prepared to be dragged to hell and back for it. Remember these are only from Season 19 on. Also, didn’t count Anna, Edyta or Louis. Cause I don’t really care about them. 

Keo- I love Keo as a DANCER. I am not a huge fan of him as a TEACHER. I think he handles the crazy better each season though and has learned to just roll with the punches at this point so that is a point for him. He is sexy as hell though, and so funny and sweet.

Sharna- OBVIOUSLY my favorite. I love her. She can be extra sometimes but I think that is what makes me love her. Her partnerships are some of my absolute favorites. She is that person that your eyes are drawn to at any given point. She doesn’t take a lot of shit, she speaks her mind. She is obviously my favorite at everything.  She is a fantastic choreographer. She knows her strengths and weaknesses in teaching. She can teach, through her incredible partnerships, a double amputee. She can highlight her partners strengths, teach her partners the movement in the right ways to highlight their strengths. Her dancing is show stopping. My eyes are drawn to her every time she dances. The partnerships are part of the teaching.

Karina- I have never cared much for her just because she was gone early both seasons I have watched her on. I don’t really have many thoughts about her TBH

Tony- I love Tony. Tony is a doll and so funny. When I watched him he had the older females compared to the older seasons when he had potential. So i liked seeing him just kinda doing what he does without too much pressure because he knew the likelihood of him winning was slim to none. I loved his dances with Marla the most. 

Alison- Okay I have a love hate relationship with Allison. I loved loved loved her and Riker. I loved their dances and their partnership. But her other 3 were just meh for me. Her choreography was just never appropriate for beginners, in my opinion. She tried to do too much for them. It worked for Riker because he was trained. But someone like Andy Grammer and Babyface, they aren’t trained. And she just gave them more than they can handle. She’s an amazing Contemp dancer, just not my favorite ballroom.

Cheryl- The OG. I love Cheryl. She is no shits taken, hard ass TEACHER. She is funny and sweet and I love her. I thought her and Ryan were adorable and she was SO GOOD for him. She really tries to push her celeb and she is good. Her dancing is gorgeous too. 

Emma- Sweet sweet Emma. I love that girl! I love that now that she has won, she is not putting pressure on her celeb. She is still just enjoying her time on the show. She really showed her patience and versatility with her oldies then when she got someone like Rashad she still just enjoyed it and put her best foot forward. She is a joy to watch. I have never seen her get angry or have a fight. I just adore her.

Artem- my velvet! I love me some Artem of course. I fell in love with him during his switch up with Janel in Season 19. That had nothing to do with his choreography and everything to do with holy mother of god he is gorgeous. I loved him and Lea. She was absolutely amazing and his dances with her really were good. And Ms. Patti oh man she was incredible and he seemed overjoyed to be with her. He had a little rough patch and then him and Nancy were great. I just love his quiet bad boy nature I think. Love him. My man.

Peta- okay. This is where the dragging starts. Peta is GORGEOUS and an incredible dancer and super funny. I just never find myself rooting for her partners. I did love Tommy and Nyle, but I wanted Paige to win. I loved her more. I have always just been middle of the road in relation to her. 

Derek- Derek is an amazing choreographer and an amazing teacher, but really just a conceited prick of a man. He did good with Bethany, I liked that partnership overall (probably because I liked Sadie and Bethany’s friendship more). Liked him and Bindi, just thought he focused more on her dad’s passing and getting that sympathy shit than I appreciated. Then he pissed me off with the Nastia thing. Wasn’t going to come back because he had too many other things going on but OH Nastia is doing it so he came back, they had atrocious shitty schedules that I think  played a part in her downfall. It just pissed me off. bleh. 

Val- oh man. val val val. I think Val is the hottest of hot, right behind artem in my opinion. I think he is cocky as shit (though I think this season he is a whole different person). I don’t like some of his styles. I don’t like when he talks back to the judges. He was coasting by for a couple years there, but he seems to be refreshed and I will say his partnerships are tied with Sharna’s for my faves. He is an incredible partner I will give him that. 

Mark- My personal favorite choreographer. His creativity and his style and his swag I just adore. Minus ALexa (even though she had one of my favorite mark dances), I love his partnerships. I think he is a great teacher, I have always liked what he creates and I have always like his goofy and quirky nature. He is incredible.

Witney- Okay, the reason I am even making this is because anons assumed she was my least favorite. Which is not at all the case. My problem with Wit is she got Alfonso and kicked ass. Even with outside help, she kicked ass. Then she didn’t get so lucky on her partners. And she just checked out. She lost the fire to create and like she just didn’t really give two shits anymore. Her only partner with some oomph was Carlos and he got his best score and had his best dance when LINDS taught him during switch up week. It is very nice to see her get the sparkle back though I will say that.

Kym- Love her. She is a doll. Her and Robert are just the freaking dream. But otherwise? No real thoughts about her

Sasha- Sasha as a pro, sasha as a pro. Okay I loved Sasha and Kim, Sasha and Terra. when he put no pressure on himself, he was a great pro. I think with simone, while I love their friendship, he got caught up in the ringer aspect and kinda lost it there. I like his dancing overall, would love it if he would just stop flipping all the time. He is like a hyper little squirrel I want to feed some ritalin to. He just needs to come down about 4 notches in everything he does. But God he is funny and his pranks are the best.

Jenna- Jenna as a pro, Jenna as a pro. I don’t think it’s fair to really comment on it much but I am going to anyway. She needed to learn how to be a pro to untrained celebs more. She gave him harder choreography than he could handle, she was very consoling after their shitty scores on week one so that is good. I think she just got caught up in the idea of being a pro more than understanding how to actual train beginners. 

Maks- *prepares to be dragged* I.HATE.MAKS. okay there is is. I cannot stand him. I don’t like him. He is preachy, cocky, talks over people, has to be the center of things. I just can’t with him. Granted yes he is a little calmer since the cutest baby was born. BUt still. Can’t. can’t handle him. But he has a KILLER ass so there is that. 

Gleb- I like him this season. Haven’t before but really like him this season so far. Every single dance had to be sex and I am glad he is not doing that this season. I didn’t like him and Jana at all, overrated as hell and she annoyed me. Erika’s dances were a bit too much for the 8 PM hour, though her VW was pretty. I am just glad to see him do things a little differently

Alan- MY BABY ALAN! He did so good on his first time out as a pro. He was caring, attentive, only gave Debbie what she could handle. I thought he was amazing and I love him to pieces and yeah LOL

Lindsey- my second favorite. I adore her. She is an amazing choreographer and partner, she has some of the greatest little partnerships. I think she is just phenomenal. She is caring and attentive and honest. I just love her. I have always rooted for her too.

Promises (6/30)

Disclaimer: Batman and associated characters are the creative property of DC Comics. Warnings: One Year Later/Evil Cass allusions Rating: T Synopsis: For an entire year after the Crisis which threatened to wipe everything they knew and loved off the Earth, after so many hardships and loved ones lost, Cass and Tim find themselves battling on different sides of the globe not only for the fate of what’s left of the world, but for the sake of once again feeling purpose. [A One Year Later fixer upper]

A/N: This chapter was slightly hard to write because Cass is my girl and any emotions she feels just get me unlike few characters I’ve ever written, so putting her through the ringer right now is a test on my own writing fortitude lol

Special thanks to @secretlystephaniebrown, @slytherinkyuubi, @chimaerakitten, and an Anonymous fan on tumblr for the feedback and suppot!

Hurt

Cassandra could feel herself drowning again.

The water boiled around her, ate through her skin and bone. She couldn’t move, even thrashing seemed to only encourage her body to stiffen tighter and tighter in the coils of death. Her throat burned, and she wanted to scream not because she was dying, but because against her will, against her sense of peace, her body was being willed to live again.

She was utterly ensnared in the waters of the Lazarus Pit, kicking and screaming, until finally she tore her way through and clambered to her feet, breathing heavily and holding back the tides of the Pit from trying to wash her back down again.

Only, there was no Pit. There were no waves, no currents, no boiling fires or the smell of death and sulfur.

Clenched in her fists were the two sides of a bedsheets torn in two. And her feet rested not in the banks of sand but in a mattress that was far too accommodating for someone who had shot out of it like a slingshot.

Cass continued to breathe heavily, looking around her room as her eyes tiredly adjusted to the change.

It wasn’t even dark, at least not anymore. Sunlight was attempting to pour into her room despite the obstruction of the curtains. And outside her door the Manor’s halls were apparently lit as the light was brightly shining through the cracks.

She hadn’t been revived again. She wasn’t suffering in the pools of green hell water. She wasn’t drowning.

It had been a dream.

Except for the part where all of it had been utterly, truly, overly real just days before.

Exhausted before even starting her day, late as that day may have already gotten without her, Cass dropped the remains of her bedsheets and hopped down from her bed. The baggy I bat Gotham shirt hung halfway down her thighs, and her loos drawstring pajama pants far from matched, but Cass had never been one for fashion all the same.

She walked toward the door, rubbing her face and leaving her hair to stick up on ends that she wasn’t aware she had grown back yet, and opened herself and the room up to the world of the living.

From the first step on, things were startlingly routine.

Cass maneuvered silently through the mansion on instinct, arriving in the kitchen and perching on a seat by the island that let her pull up her feet into the seat and rock steadily back and forth on it as she yawned and rubbed at her eyes again.

Somehow, magically, Alfred came along and was already halfway through making her a breakfast of her favorite things.

“Look as though we will be out of cereal soon between you and Master Richard,” Alfred said, though there was a curl to his nose as he examined the box of sugary treats.

“He here?” Cass asked, leaning her cheeks into her hands as she watched Alfred.

She already knew the answer.

“I am afraid he and Master Tim are both at the hospital. He is determined to talk some one who did not earn their doctorate into taking his cast off early. I am assured that Leslie and Master Tim will put a stop to it before he comes too close to sawing it off himself,” Alfred announced, pouring milk in a bowl then orange juice in a cup.

“Bruce?” Cass asked.

She already knew that answer, too.

“I am afraid he is at work this morning, Miss Cassandra,” Alfred said before putting her tray before her. “But, as always, I am here to serve, Miss Cassandra. Happily, contently, forcefully,” he joked before poking at her nose.

Despite herself, Cass laughed at the affectionate gesture and picked up her spoon. She was two scoops in before she looked warily in Alfred’s direction. “Alfred?”

“Hm?” the butler hummed as he turned back to her.

“I tore my sheets in half again,” she informed him, beginning to gulf down what was left of her cereal. “Third time. Let’s just not change them anymore. S’not working.”

A worried look crossed Alfred’s face and then he sighed heavily. “You absolutely will have new sheets, Miss Cassandra. There will not be a charge in my home without proper covers. But I once again must urge you to seek out someone to talk to about why you continue to have such violent nightmares, dear girl.”

Cass finished her cereal in record time and gabbed her orange juice to take with her, pushing off from her seat.

“Not just dreams,” she said as she walked off. “Me. I’m just… violent.”

Alfred let out a discouraged noise but Cass couldn’t bare to witness his disappointment in person. Instead she headed for the Cave.

It was time to train and hope that, eventually, her demons could simply be fought away.

By nine, Cassandra still had not seen Bruce, Dick, or Tim, but she also did not bother Alfred with any questions as to why that might have been. In truth, it was difficult for Cass to get past the numbness that overtook her throughout the day’s routine, as the rawness of waking from her nightmares grew more and more distant to her.

She trained and she ate and she spent all of it alone where once it might have felt like an intolerable amount of time.

For Cassandra, it was old hat.

At nine, there were still a few hours before peak patrol time, and the Manor was growing more unsuitable for the restlessness Cass felt after hours upon hours of numbness. So she suited up and went, without warning, to the small, private airfield in Bristol where the Aerie One was currently grounded in secret.

Though, considering a suited up Batgirl was heading toward it in the dead of night while on a Batcycle probably brought into question just how firmly kept that secret could be.

Still, for as unconventional as Cassandra could sometimes be, she was not refused in the slightest as she came on board.

And more than that, she was expected.

Helena Bertinelli — the Huntress, as Cassandra knew her better — was in a purple sweater with black leggings, holding a smoking cup of coffee that must have been freshly made as its smell permeated the entrance of the plane. “Hey there, didn’t realize we were doing this in costume. I would’ve been dressed more appropriately.”

Cass gave a small shrug and came on into the plane. “Going to patrol. After.”

“Makes sense,” Helena said, shutting the door behind her and following Cass to their usual spot. “Did you pick up the book I recommended to you? I know it’s in Bruce’s library. I called to make sure.”

“Not yet,” Cass said, pulling up into the desk chair and drawing her legs up to hug against her chest. “Phonexes today. Yes?”

“Phonics, yup,” Helena replied, settling down beside Cass with her coffee, taking a sip. “Have you been practicing on your own?”

“Yes,” Cass lied easily.

“Mmhmm,” Helena said before pulling out the phonics cards they had been using for the last week. “Well, going through these will be pretty easy tonight then, right? We’ll get you right on out to patrol before the Scarecrow can split a hair.”

“R-right,” Cass said less confidently, arching her shoulders forward in a way that draped her cape to cover more of herself.

The numbness ebbed away for the first time that day since it had arrived uninvited, but feeling was not always better than not feeling. Embarrassment flushed her cheeks and flustering caused her brows to wrinkle as she studied cards with ridiculous rules.

Part of wearing her costume was because of her anticipation for an upcoming patrol, but another part of her costume was the importance of her mask. It shielded her face in ways few things could, keeping Helena from seeing her full reactions to being told no and try again over and over.

It also hid the genuine excitement and relief that crossed her entire body as a correctly pronounced card was placed in the good pile, that was done for the night.

In a way, Cassandra hated how learning made her feel. And she hated how ds and bs were not interchangeable but sometimes cs sounded like ks until chs and ths came by to also confuse her. And then as sometimes on cards in certain fonts she could mistake for qs and it was so hard to remember z at all because she saw it so little.

Cass hated it so much.

But she hated even more that the emotional exhaustion she went through while Helena’s steady, calm demeanor was as practiced and poised as ever. She lived for teaching, Barbara had once said. It was as natural to her character as putting on a cape.

And that made her particularly frustrating for Cassandra, just like the rest of the family. Because it meant Cassandra’s struggles — if she let them be seen without her mask — were quick to be judged. She was certain of it. Even when Helena assured her otherwise.

“Well, I think it’s safe to say you didn’t actually practice on your own since last time,” Helena said, putting down the cards after what felt like ages to Cassandra.

Shame came down, crushing Cassandra as she buried her head in her knees. “Mmsorry,” she muttered.

“It’s alright, but you need to remember that learning is just like anything else. You get out of it what you put into it. Even if you sometimes have to put in a little more effort for something like reading than you think others do, it’s no bigger of a deal than them having to put in extra work in order to fight as well as you do,” Helena said as she put up her teaching materials.

Cass’ frown only grew and she narrowed her eyes as she looked at Helena. “No one… feels this bad about not having good enough kicks or punches. Not like I feel now. For reading and for… just talking,” she pointed out sharply. “And no one… thinks Tim’s stupid because he kicks too slow!”

Helena’s brows furrowed in response and she set aside her coffee mug. “Wait a second, Cassie. Who’s calling you stupid?” she demanded.

Immediately, Cass curled more into her cape, instant regret coursing through her. Barbara’s words were still there, in the back of her mind, vicious and unthinking in a way that Barbara almost never was. It was the first thing that came to her mind, like always, but it was far from the last or only.

Truth was, she had seen the flicker of resentment from many faces, many times over the years.

“Everyone,” she finally answered. “They… think it.”

“And they’re wrong,” Helena said firmly.

“No,” Cass said, hugging her shoulders. “Nyssa… she said she could teach me… Told me I was… broken to everyone else. That’s why no one tried—“

“Hey, isn’t this trying right now?” Helena pressed, tapping her finger on Cass’ books. “There’s nothing broken about you, Cass. You’re different. You’re amazing… and not everything can come as naturally to you as fighting and reading people. That gets you frustrated and makes you not want to try. I understand that more than almost anyone else. That’s why we’re working together.” She then turned to gather some of the items on the desk together. “That’s why I keep telling Barbara you would be better off coming with us when we take off. But even if you don’t want to, then you and I are going to make a schedule and keep in contact on Skype or phone — however we can get it to work so you’re still tutoring—“

Caught off guard, Cassandra perked up and looked Helena’s way with wide eyes. “Take off?” she repeated, startled.

Helena looked at Cass warily. “Yeah, we’re leaving next… Oh, for godsake, she didn’t—“

Getting to her feet so fast, Cassandra accidentally sent her desk chair flying back into the wall behind her. “Where’s Barbara?” she demanded.

Covering her face with her hand and sighing deeply, Helena pointed toward the cockpit. “Damn it, Babs.”

Furious, Cassandra took off for the front.

Cassandra nearly burst down the door in her anger and she wasn’t even sure if she would have cared had it happened. Instead she just barreled on through to where Barbara was sitting beside Zinda at the helm with a large projected map of the east coast out before them.

Both women looked back in surprise.

“Easy on the Aerie, she’s a sensitive lady!” Zinda admonished, pulling back on her cap.

To her credit, Barbara seemed more expectant. “Cass, how did your lessons with Helena go—“

Ripping off her mask so that Barbara could see exactly how upset she was, Cass glared at her mentor. “You’re leaving? You’re leaving again!?” she cried out in anger.

“Whoo boy,” Zinda muttered, looking less comfortable by the minute.

“Yes,” Barbara replied. “Dinah is taking time off to retrain and—“

“And?” Cass asked, nose curled as she got in Barbara’s face.

“The Birds are needed elsewhere,” Barbara fought back stubbornly. “Our main headquarters is a plane, Cassandra. We operate across the world. We don’t belong only to Gotham anymore. We can’t stay in one place. It’s… Well, it’s dangerous.”

Narrowing her eyes, Cass clenched her fists so tightly she could feel the knuckles popping. “It’d be with me,” she hissed. “You promised—“

“I’m keeping my promises,” Barbara assured her holding up her hands. “I am, Cass. I never lied to you.”

“Then why can’t I go?” Cass demanded.

“Because I’m keeping my promises,” Babs replied in frustration.

Easing back, Cass felt like she could breathe again. “You’re… She’s going with you?”

“Yes,” Barbara said, though her expression could not have looked more soured if she tried. “Sandra Wusan is a probationary member of the Birds of Prey. She’s getting her second chance… though I’m not taking her out of her cell until I’m sure we can push her off the plane at about a thousand feet first if we need to.”

Relieved, Cass tilted back her head and smiled. “Good. This is good,” she said firmly.

Zinda looked back and forth between them before scratching at her head. “It is? Well I hope someone bothers explaining how!” she groaned. “We’re keeping a murderer on the Aerie One… and then there’s the Lady Shiva business!”

“I can hear you,” Helena called as she came to the cockpit’s door. “Babs, are you honestly telling me you were going to leave without even offering to bring Cassandra with us?”

“It’s okay,” Cass assured her tutor. “Understand now.”

“Understand what?” Helena demanded, still eyeing Barbara for answers.

“Cassandra and Shiva cannot be together,” Barbara said firmly. “First off, I wouldn’t allow it after what she put Cass through over the past two years. Second off, it’s… It’s Shiva’s only motivation. She says she will keep her promise to Dinah for the next year, but it’s Cassandra… Cassandra is going to be the only thing that truly motivates her to stay on this path. They both have something to prove to each other.”

Helena looked to Cass sympathetically. “Isn’t that something that would be easier to prove if you were allowed to work together?” she asked Cass gently.

“No,” Cass said. “She would want me to… kill her. It’s what she… really wants.”

At that, Helena and Zinda looked at each other equally perplexed.

“We’re gonna get a woman to change her mind about not killing other people for a year so that she can ask her daughter to kill her at the end of it?” Zinda asked.

“Shiva is not Cass’ mother,” Barbara said firmly. “She gave birth to Cass. That’s it. And I still haven’t ran the DNA test so it’s taking Shiva at her word—“

“Yes,” Cass answered more simply.

“Helluva year it’s about to be, isn’t it?” Zinda asked Helena.

Reminded of just how long it was going to be, Cassandra looked back at Barbara. “I… I won’t see you?” she asked.

“Of course you will,” Barbara promised. “Maybe not always in person but…” Babs reached forward and tenderly cupped one hand against Cass’ cheek. “Cass, you’re everything to me right now, you understand? You’re…”

“Batgirl,” Cass completed.

“You’re Cassandra, and even if you don’t know it yet, that is a thousand times more important to me than even Batgirl,” Barbara answered. “I want to do right by you… to make up for all the big and small mistakes over the years and more. I’m doing this for you… no matter how hard. I’m going to try to show Shiva she has a second chance — that she doesn’t deserve. And that it’s because of a daughter — that she really doesn’t deserve… that doesn’t belong to her.”

Cass wanted to find the words within her to dispute Barbara, to remind her that everyone had the opportunity — the second chance — for anything. And that if they did not believe that for the likes of Shiva, how could they begin to believe in it for themselves.

For their relationship.

Reaching down, Cass cupped Barbara’s chin in her hands and offered a small smile.

“Thank you,” she said instead. “Thank you for helping Shiva.”

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Barbara’s smile came through and she pulled Cass by the waist into a hug. “It’s for you, but alright.”

Closing her eyes, Cassandra tried to imagine that hug could last them more than only a moment in time.

Patrol, if it could even be counted as patrol, was mercifully short by the time Cassandra had made her parting words and embraces with the Birds.

As Barbara had wanted, she never saw Shiva in that time, and in a way Cass thought it was best. Knew it was best. Because as much as Cassandra wished to help the mother who birthed her find reformation, the rest of the path had to be Shiva’s or it was not going to be true at all.

Afterwords, Cassandra did not detect anything unusual until she pulled into the cave on her bike and found no one else coming in for the night.

It wasn’t unusual for Cass to be the last to call it quits on patrol, but the Redbird and the Batmobile looked practically undisturbed when she passed between them. She even reached down and placed her hand on the hood of the Batmobile and found it cold. It had been sitting there for a while — if it had been used at all that night.

And more alarming was that Batman was not sitting at the computers, filing away his findings of the night, updating files, doing basic casework. Which, in truth, he had been doing more than actual patrolling for the last week or so by Cassandra’s estimations.

Her heart began pounding in her chest. Something was dreadfully wrong.

Without even changing at her locker, Cassandra ran up the stairs to the Manor, ripping off her mask and all but kicking down the grandfather clock in her desire to get to the others of the Manor and fast. She did not know what was wrong, but she knew it had to be something.

Even the Manor air felt stale and choking as she raced through.

She desired to shout out for the others, but she couldn’t even fathom what names to call, what danger could be available. Not until she reached the foyer and found four surprised expressions meeting her.

“Miss Cassandra! Thank goodness you’re here,” Alfred said, putting a hand to his chest as he breathed with relief. He then looked to Bruce, Dick, and Tim. “I suppose you were about to surprise her with this announcement as well, Master Bruce?”

Breathless, Cassandra tried to calm herself down — everyone was fine, everyone was alive. But there was an unmistakable tension between all of them. Alfred’s anger was hardly subtle, which was a rarity for the butler. Tim was to the side, further from Bruce than from Dick, the same deadened expression he had worn since Superbly’s funeral clear on his face. Dick was limited in movement due to his injuries, but he kept on the balls of his feet all the same, shifting uncomfortably under Alfred’s gaze and Cass’.

Bruce was… Bruce was walled off and not looking at Cass completely.

When there was no cowl, it was his greatest tool to keep her from reading him like a book.

“You shouldn’t be upstairs in uniform, Cassandra,” Bruce said first, because of course he did.

Cass’ brows furrowed and she stood her ground, glancing across all of them. “What’s wrong?” she demanded.

It was then that she noticed the packed suitcases and totes behind them. It was then that Cassandra’s teeth began to grind as she worked desperately to refute her own conclusions.

“Nothing’s wrong, promise, Li’l Sister,” Dick said with his own note of desperation. “We just… Well, not we,” he said with a flicker of resentfulness in his glance toward Bruce. “It’s been decided that the three of us are going on a trip.”

For a moment, Cassandra stared at all of them in disbelief. Then she produced a scowl to rival the Bat’s.

“You’re leaving me too?” she demanded angrily.

“Too? What do you mean? Cassie, it’s just—“ Dick began.

“No,” Cass said, holding up a hand to silence Dick. Her full glare was on Bruce. He finally returned it. “Why?” she demanded.

“You’ve not been honest with me recently,” Bruce surmised. “I don’t know what happened in—“

“Not your business,” Cass snapped.

“You are my business,” Bruce retorted.

“Master Bruce, really?” Alfred cut in before Cass could shout back. “I believe we are all speaking out of turn and without enough thought. If we could only take a moment to talk this through and not last minute go on a cross world tour—“

“It has been decided, Alfred,” Bruce continued. “It’s necessary. Just like it’s necessary for Cassandra to stay—“

“Why!?” Cass demanded.

“Because Gotham needs protection,” Dick answered for Bruce. Cassandra looked into his eyes and, as usual with Dick, they were open with honesty. “It needs it, Cassie. It needs someone to be the Bat in town while Bruce is away and… and I’m not in condition. It’s why I’m going, too. Isn’t that right, Bruce?”

Cassandra looked squarely at Bruce — at Batman — but… she did not find either. The man who stared back at her was… vacant. Injured. He hurt in a way that bent his character and confused his soul to an unrecognizable fashion. She wasn’t sure who he was anymore.

And the same judgment, the same view, was looking back at her.

Bruce didn’t know her anymore either.

“Gotham needs Batman,” Cass said, breaking the silence. “That’s… what you wanted me to be. Isn’t it? That’s why… It’s why I’m learning to read. Isn’t it?” When he didn’t immediately answer, she stomped down her foot. “That’s why I’ll do it. That’s why I’ll stay. If you still want me to… be you when I’m gone—“

“You should want to read because it’s a necessary skill for your independence and livelihood, Cassandra,” Bruce interrupted.

She couldn’t cry, it wasn’t like the other night with Tim. But she certainly felt like it.

“You should want to be Batman again,” Cass retorted angrily, “because… Because Bruce Wayne sucks!”

With that, she stormed off to her room, ignoring the calls after her.

She slammed her door behind her and covered her mouth with her forearm as she squeezed her eyes shut and bit back a scream. Her blood boiled like Lazarus waters and she, for a moment, missed the numbness in exchange for the rage and upset that pumped through her veins instead.

fan night 2

will my attention span fail me yet again? who knowssss

vimeo’s roku app sure will fail me tho

aww the thank you opening is cute

a thought: how can ilja be both a czar and soviet? he’s really mixing metaphors here

i did notice he wasn’t billed from moscow iast night, but the boy still has the hammer and sickle so...

it’s wrestling it doesn’t have to make sense

i forgot how long millie’s on tour for - hopefully at least through tag league

reiner ringer looks so amused by kris wolf

he also can’t seem to figure out masks

ok i love millie being like DO NOT PUT ME IN MASK

i like kris wolf’s whole craziness but i’m kinda skeptical of how long the shtick will still be cute to me

kinda like how martina was fun but then it was just like...ok can we get more wrestle and not the same beer spot

but kris already seems like a better wrestler in general than martina

oh shit! didn’t expect that to end that way

i hope millie sticks around long enough for them to feud; i like the idea of her being super annoyed by kris

*millie voice

oh no i know the outcome of this match and i do not approve!

i didn’t know this was for the last spot in tag league

how can my rise bois not be in there?

they are married

this also worries me that something will happen with them

idk the lyrics to this song except ‘WE ARE AS ROMEO AND JULIETTTTT and it is so not fitting

omg jay skillet is the BIGGEST fuckboy

not really but seriously

dragan back to blond

omg that roll into the ring i love it

i still do not trust emil 100%

hahaha i like emil being like ‘nono dragan, let’s stay out of their drama’

lol did i miss the bell ring

wow that dive spot fucking owned

dragan bb i can see ur underwear

it matches his overall aesthetic (pastels) but not really with the snakeskin tights

oh snap it’s abs vs. abs rn

commentary sound mix is kinda off but i still managed to hear rico gush over emil’s body

um wow rico you know dragan and emil is not the weirdest teamup in wxw history by FAR

i mean, besides fucking cerberus

zackdaddy, just because of the name

posse in effect [dildos]

ok i can’t think of more right now but there are definitely others

also, CERBERUS

i guess he meant more ‘odd couple’ types...but even then...cerberus

oh snap that tag from dragan to ivan was real sick

“look at those legs of bouncer go!”

but really tho that was just a spinning muscleboy 69

aww dragan...let the boi do a thing

whaaaaat

also, who was legal there?

i mean, not that jayfk in tag won’t be fun....but my rise bois.....

ivan didn’t get into carat because john was a dick, can’t he at least be in the other big tournament?

wxw why are u so mean to my snakeboi and his hot bf

THAT’S NOT HOW YOU PRONOUNCE YEHI

it’s “yay-high”

ohhh i forgot yehi is ‘the savageweight’

ummm oberhausen pls sing with fred don’t be mean

‘historic waterloo, iowa’ alan wut?

i mean perhaps there’s a well regarded wrestling school there but iowa is not a place with notable things

iowa is one of the states you have trouble remembering when asked to name all 50 states

not the most forgettable though, that’s missouri

[full disclosure i am a snooty new yorker so take my opinions on anyplace outside the northeast with a grain of salt]

alan and andy [not absolute] might not have been the best choice to commentate this match since they’re both pretty dry and this match is one that doesn’t engender a ton of hype

i do like it better than the williams/veit one though

but also i don’t really like andy on commentary...i feel like the only notable things he says are really obvious

YESSS THE BICYCLE KICK SPOT

i was surprised he didn’t do that last show...but maybe chris brookes is too tall for it

it’s silly but also great

NOOOO THESE YOUNG LIONS PICS I CAN’T

also wow that beard really did wonders for tarkan didn’t it

maybe he’s such a dick to lucky cause he’s jealous that lucky doesn’t need facial hair to be attractive

oh nooo i have to relive this :(

our poor baby

well tarkan i guess we should admire that you can wrestle in a girdle

walking aroung like you think you’re mufasa news flash you’re scar

entrance so drama

here comes our lucky boy!

too focused for fingers today he came to fucking fight!

AUF DIE FRESSEN

lil lucky just gonna fucking murder both of them

“this is more than just wrestling, these are emotions” damn striaght rico

WTF?

BOOOOOOOOO

damn bobby didn’t even get in the match

YEAH I SAW THAT SHIT BOBBY

ok yeah this is a real face moment for bobby

WOWWW marius and tarkan already left? like just fucking bounced?

well at least lucky’s found a new friend

i’m both tired and restless so as much as i am looking forward to all of these matches i’m having trouble actually watching things

how could jurn kiss and then kick

i would say i might have to go to sleep and continue this tomorrow, but i’m so restless who fucking knows

i hope david wins this

if i were david i would not turn my back on jurn during my entrance

there that’s better

aww david you should have gotten a special sword made for you too

lol shoutouts to the fan flipping off jurn right in his face

if this were japan david would have been able to get that turnbuckle pad off

yeah turnbuckle spots are awkward unless you have the big pads

wait wtf is jurn doing

ok fucking finally david got up

jfc

oh shit

david as satisfying as it is to see jurn get hit with his own special boy sword, you probably should have just let him lie

DAVID NO WHY WOULD YOU HAVE MERCY

THIS MAN KICKED YOU IN THE BALLS AFTER A KISS

HAVE YOU LEARNED NOTHING FROM THE DIY BREAKUP

ok well he learned something from the last gargano/ciampa match

whoops tho he might be dead now

good job mr random fan. you did a good deed

uh oh

when people start taking shit off the ring shit gets dangerous

tim thatcher is probably cringing rn

[fyi tim had a match with drew gulak a year an a half ago where they were just fucking suplexing eachother on the bare wooden planks. that was the only time i have ever seen tim thatcher appear after a show in the US because they fucking carried him out after the show and he had a concussion and was out for like two months]

ehhh rico is playing the possible concussion angle on commentary and i kinda hate it when they do that

david stand up!

oh nooooooooo

yeah umm a top rope move with the ring in this state was probably not the smartest, boys

that was a pretty lame ending though

i guess they’re trying to extend the feud? only other thing i can think of is someone is legit hurt

but like....what an anticlimax

also, since this was put on hold b/c of jurn’s injury it’s just like, weird to think it needs to go on longer

they’re lucky that the heat was still there after five months

i’m excited for the new promotions on wxw now, but they haven’t actually updated the wxwnow.de/.com site in like, six months...

i hadn’t noticed because i just go straight to the vimeo page, but...they should get on that

ngl i totally forgot about this match; i knew ringkampf (or at least tim) had to have a match, but i couldn’t remember who they were fighting

is this a title match? no, right?

oh shit no it is

...why?

do julian and robert not remember you can have a tag match without the titles on the line?

*kyle fletcher voice* i don’t speak german are u asking me to high five you

lol kyle is not into julian’s pitch

wrestling: a man angrily holds up an outstretched hand yelling ‘FIVE’

FUNF MINUTEN >:(

mark davis covering his ears to try and ignore the tim thatcher chants is great

what’s better is kyle fletcher’s expression is probably meant to be ‘ok, let’s see what u got, popular man’ but kinda looks like he’s considering fucking tim

which, relatable, but probably not what he meant

*kyle fletcher voice* fuck me up walter

ilja: that’s my line!

hah rico pulling out the greek god line to describe tim

this is weird for a title match cause monster consulting have just been hainging around for a while on the apron

ahhhhhhhh that half crab is sooo goooood

on the other hand perhaps taking a lil break while the other guys beat the shit out of each other isn’t too bad of a strategy

lol wxw thx for the prolonged thatcher ass shot for no reason

wtf either rico or andy just said this was tornado tag rules and it is NOT

mark maybe you should not chop walter

rip kyle

this has all been real good and i’m sure the title matches are fire but i think i’m too tired to pay attention anymore sorry

Today, We Say Goodbye to David, the Internet’s Biggest Music Nerd

Today, June 29th, is David’s last day in the GMG office. Those of us lucky enough to have met him and call him our friend say the things we like most about him. The Hummus and Pita Corporation, among those lucky enough to know David very well, did not respond in time to comment, but we will update this post if and when we hear back, because we are sure they have very many nice things to say about their most loyal customer. 

Yessenia Funes, Earther staff writer

David! You're one of the first people I see when I come into the office. You're almost always there early—and you're always looking fly AF. I'm gonna miss you, dude. I'll miss hearing your random snort-chuckles (or at least that's what I think they are). I'll miss your wide selection of hot sauce (although Tapatio all zayyyy). I'll especially miss our Chipotle trips. I think you might be the only other person who understands my love for Chipotle. I'll loathe whoever ends up taking your seat and send them death stares until they get the hint and leave it alone. (I'm just kidding... I think.) GMG won't be the same without you, dude. Neither will the union. But you a boss-ass journalist (even though Jay-Z probably hates you now), and I know you'll be aight. This place doesn't deserve you.

Emily Lipstein, rat wrangler, Gizmodo/Earther/io9 social  

David and I have been sitting basically across from each other at GMG since I was hired on full time from my internship and he started at the company. It took, however, two weeks (at least!) for us to actually do more than just nodding when we would see each other, which is dumb considering that we both knew who the other was. David has been put through the ringer while here at GMG, in the most docile way I can say it. I'm infinitely sad to see him (and his Ed Sheeran icon in union slack) leave. Most sad of all is that the Hummus and Pita Co. on 17th and 6th will no longer have its most reliable customer. Luckily for me, I'll be able to see David whenever, now that I live within "walking distance" of Bed-Stuy and since Black & White isn't limited to only employees of Gizmodo Media Group. I hope I get custody of our desk plants.

Ashley Reese, Jezebel staff writer

Before I even knew David IRL, he was this dude on Twitter who seemed really fucking cool and kinda intimidating and I just wanted him to follow me back. Now that I know him, I know that he’s not intimidating at all (lol) but he’s still really fucking cool. And on top of that, he’s sweet and funny and incredibly smart. I’m really going to miss seeing him around the office and snarking with him on Slack, but I’m excited to see what he does next.

And thanks, David, for warning me about how cold our damn office is. A real lifesaver. 

Clio Chang, formerly Splinter staff writer

David is a fucking great person.

Claire Shaffer, Jezebel intern 

I’ve only known David for a few months, but even in that short span of time, I’ve gained the authority to say that he is a huge nerd. While the rest of us continue to make dumb Soundcloud jokes on Twitter, he has been wading through a quagmire of streaming data, shady dealings, and related bullshit happening within the music and tech industries. This makes him both a giant dweeb and a fearless reporter, shining a light on inequities that not nearly enough people are writing about. He’s also a nerd because we once spent a good chunk of a bar conversation on Neon Genesis Evangelion, which is a topic that he definitely brought up, not me. I’ll miss you, David, and I wish you the best of luck as Editor-in-Chief of your new sports/pop culture website, The Runger.

Katie McDonough, Jezebel senior editor

The first time I met David was during the organizing drive at MTV News (he was working there, I was helping out), and I liked him right away because he dressed cool and wanted to build a union at his job. The second time I met David was months later at the GMG offices, when I turned around at my desk to find that he was sitting behind me, at his own desk, facing in the opposite direction. It was a weird time at the company (still is) and things felt fractured with new teams coming together, but David was quick to start planning ways to connect people. He also became more and more active in our union, bringing that same drive toward connection to the work we did there, and leaving us infinitely stronger for it. I hate that David is leaving GMG because I know that I will love everything he does somewhere else and feel jealous we aren't publishing it. I will miss working with him and organizing alongside him and admiring his cool clothes every day. I will miss his passion for spreadsheets and small obsessions that become incredible pieces. I will miss David.

Frida Garza, some bitch

Since David and I started working together at GMG, we have been through a lot: helping him log in to his Univision account, to which he knows neither the username nor the password but which also threatens to self-implode if one does not log into it every 45 days; aiding him in his search for more union pins (he has a lot, check his backpack); acquiring copious amounts of hot sauce and plants for our desks, for distinct but not unrelated reasons. David has been my coworker in various capacities over the last year and a half; he somehow wrote more blogs for me when I was his editor than any other freelance writer I worked with, despite the fact we never paid him. (We did pay him, it just took so long that I was deeply embarrassed and hoped he would choose to never pitch us again so that I could stop apologizing. But he always pitched us again.) David was also one of the smartest, pitching insane but brilliant blogs that I was also insane enough to say yes to, and the whole thing was generally a fun enterprise (again, expect when I was frantically emailing finance to track down where his money went). I wish I could take credit for his ideas, but they’re all his, and any editor who has the opportunity to hear one of these should count themselves as stupidly lucky.

David, you are a true weirdo, which is why we are friends: Whether it’s your Supreme obsession, the way you know shit about the music industry absolutely no one else does or understands (including me sometimes), the fact your Slack avatar is clip-art of a turtle (I refuse to believe it’s the official turtle emoji), the way you hate most things (like eggs... what’s up with that?), the way you say EKSGETIT more than anyone I know (except Crystal Xia, and both of you drive me crazy with that), the list goes on. You are also a great reporter, an amazing friend, and will be so friggin’ successful, I know it. I’m so happy for you to write the great American non-fiction book on how the real Russian interference is in popular sports channels on YouTube. Catch you at MoMa PS1.