#~eyes without a face~ ;; dash commentary

[valorandgold]

*flops over* I totally lost all my motivation for anything because I miss doing Ace Attorney RP stuff with Edgeworth and Junie *demotivated Eph noises*

[the-flaneur]

dearest darling flan would you ever consider writing for lewis 😔 i do not see nearly enough fics to justify js how attractive he is and it pains me

dont go insane (lh44)

pairing: lewis hamilton x driver!reader, platonic grid x reader

summary: when george invites some of the drivers over for a drunken presentation night, what better topic to present than your speciality? lewis' di-...outfits

warnings: suggestive mentions

wc: 1243

a/n: your wish is my command 😉 may have deviated a little bit, but dont worry i have many more fics lined up for this very attractive man

[masterlist] [request]

“ok ok everybody, thank you for joining us for the very first annual driver’s presentation night, hosted by yours truly, george russell. a connoisseur of powerpoint presentations, if i do say so myself,” george grinned.

the driver’s spare meeting room, which had been earlier crammed with spinning wheelie chairs and long white desks, had been replaced with the comfort of some old beanbags and blankets, as you, max, george, lando, oscar, charles, and alex settled in for a very long evening. as the last words left george's lips, a round of uncoordinated cheers erupted from the drunken audience. max let out an especially loud whoop before nearly faceplanting into a beanbag. 

"you're all welcome," he said with exaggerated politeness. "now then, without further ado, let's dive right into our first presentation of the evening!"

he gestured grandly towards you, nearly losing his balance in the process. "everyone, please welcome the one the only, the illustrious and femioone-feminonnena…blimey…” he cackled, tossing you the screen remote, “oh you know who it is…y/n! welcome yourself up to the stage,” 

"thank you, georgie poo. and hello everyone, i'm very very happy to be here tonight to present a special look back at the goat’s fashion choices. i would’ve rather regaled you with tales of his other…talents, but george made me promise to keep it pg, cause there are children here,” you giggled in front of all your friends, with a pointed look at lando and oscar, who seem to look mildly offended.

“obviously as the stunning wife of formula 1's golden boy himself," you continued, clicking onto the first slide, which showed you and lewis posed together for his recent dior collection, the boys hooting and hollering appreciatively, “i am the best and the only person able to give such a presentation, so make sure you’re listening,”

more applause and whistling followed as you clicked through to the first slide of lewis from the 2024 met gala, “of course, we gotta start off with a newfound lewis hamilton classic, the 2024 met gala. simple, classy, a great message and followed the theme, unlike so many others,” you rolled your eyes at the last bit, as the boys laughed.

“i can’t believe he disses my fashion sense, when his older met gala looks are questionable,” charles groans, swiping to show the group a photo pulled up on his phone. you sigh when you see lewis’ zig zag suit from 2019; definitely not camp enough for you or 2024 lewis.

“hey cut the man some slack,” alex laughs, seeing your pouting face, as you continue to click through the slides showcasing his various looks. the room continues to fill with laughter and playful jabs both at your commentary and the well-meaning yet snarky comments from the other drivers.

on the seventh slide, a photo of lewis in a see-through mesh top from the early 2021 season appeared on the screen, which definitely caught the drivers’ eyes. his chiseled features were highlighted with the bright backdrop, and the material of the shirt definitely emphasised his broad shoulders and toned physique. as well as the absolutely sinful tattoos criss-crossing his biceps, yummy…

"he looked absolutely dashing here, didn't he?" you purred, voice dripping with admiration. pausing the presentation, you let the image linger on the screen as you continued, "and trust me, he cleaned up even better in private that night..."

the room erupted in good-natured eye-rolls and chuckles at your suggestive remark. lando, never one to miss an opportunity, quipped, "well, we all knew lew was a total “stud”,"

oscar snorted, "yeah, until he decides to show up to the races in a black shirt and pants with hummingbirds on it," the others groaned in agreement, recalling lewis' infamous (amongst the drivers) outfit choice from several years prior. you laughed, unfazed by the teasing, "okay, okay, i get it. but this look right here? classic lewis - sophisticated, stylish, and undeniably sexy,” pointing once again to another showstopper lewis look.

you continued to advance the slideshow to the next image, another candid shot of you and lewis leaving a glamorous red-carpet event hand-in-hand. george leaned in to whisper something to alex, both of them grinning mischievously. 

george, still smitten with his own awaiting powerpoint prowess, decided to inject some competitiveness into the situation. "alright, let's not forget why we're really here, shall we? fashion, schmashion - who still really wants to hear more about y/n's insightful analysis of lewis's wardrobe choices?"

the room erupted in laughter, as you shot george a stern look, "hey now, my presentation is far more interesting than your mediocre slide designs, george!"

undeterred, george retorted, "oh yeah?” 

your face grew warm at the snide remark, but a spark of competitiveness ignited in your eyes. "oh, i think i can handle whatever you throw my way, george! don’t mess with the best," with a dramatic flourish, you clicked the remote to advance the slideshow featuring a collage of george's most...questionable outfits from past casual outings events. the drivers gasped in unison, their jaws dropping at the sight of george sporting everything from neon-colored blazers to patterned socks that clashed with his trousers. even the most tame of them were at least questionable to the discerning eye.

max let out a low whistle, while lando and oscar burst into uncontrollable laughter. with a sly grin, you continued, “i wouldn’t get ahead with the insult boys…george ain’t the only one who needs to pay for fashion crimes,”

"let's start with you, maxie," you sighed, pulling up one singular image on the presentation, the red bull racing suit, “unfortunately, your one fashion weakness is that you have no variety. did you know out of almost all the media pictures people get of you, it’s like a 1 in 500 to get one of you not in your suit, let alone anything fashionably interesting. you really need to convince pr to dress you in something else. how else am i supposed to critique you?" you humph.

max held up his hands in mock defense, laughing along with the others. "clearly, it was a stroke of genius."

as your merciless fashion critiques continued, the room descended into a fit of giggles and playful jabs. even george couldn't help but crack a smile, impressed by your preparations. lando shouted as you ripped his metaphorical fashion career away from him, "you know, if you're going to tear us apart like this, maybe we should just let you design our outfits from now on."

"oh, i think i've got enough on my plate with being mrs. hamilton already. besides, i have a feeling everyone might object to me dressing up the entire f1 grid in matching juicy couture tracksuits." the group erupted in laughter once more, and max raised his glass in a toast.

"to y/n, the only person in this room brave enough to call us out on our questionable fashion choices," max declared, his voice laced with humor and appreciation, "may her sharp tongue and keen eye for style forever keep us in check," the others echoed the toast, clinking their glasses together.

“but don’t worry i’ve saved an absolute treat for last,” you giggled, clicking towards the next slide, and the drivers, not for the first time tonight, were speechless.

there, plastered across the screen was a very…tasteful selection of lewis’ best pics. and the title: best clothes = no clothes.

being mrs hamilton was so much fun ;)

permanent f1 taglist (comment or msg me to join)

@charlesgirl16 @tallrock35 @sweate-r-weathe-r @unlikelystay @alex-wotton

@daisyfreecs @euphorihan @louloucs @oikarma @dying-inside-but-its-classy

@fadingcloudballoon @princessminjikwon @nina-or-anna-or-nora

© the-flanuer || do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platform.

[kabsey]

The driving rain had reached the layer of fabric closest to his skin by the time Viago unlocked the front door of his townhouse. He could already feel a clammy chill spreading down his spine from where the hair at his nape dripped into his collar. Suppressing a shiver and a sigh of relief, he pushed the door closed and reengaged each lock. His hand froze on the last one when its quiet click was echoed by a creak of floorboards from above.

He slid into the corner where the shadows were thickest. The usually reliable moonlight was mostly absent from the tall front windows, and for a moment, he wondered if he had mistaken the patter of rain or a branch blown by the wind for an intruder. But the unmistakable sound of a door opening and the spill of firelight at the top of the curved staircase dashed that brief hope. He waited in silence, not willing to give his position away if the intruder harbored similar doubts about the presence of another person.

Until he heard a voice call "Viago?" from the landing that overlooked the foyer from the second floor.

He ran a hand down his face as he let out a held breath. Then he stepped into the faint rectangle of light slashed by the bars of the balcony.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"I was in the city and got caught in the rain," Rook replied. "I was closer to here than the Diamond, so I figured I'd wait until morning to head back to the Lighthouse."

She was mostly in shadow from the light behind her, but he could make out her silhouette leaning with both elbows on the railing. Her hair, normally tossed up in a messy bun, hung in loose waves to dangle over the drop to the floor below. She stood up straight as he started up the stairs.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in turn. "Teia kick you out?"

He scowled. "She did not kick me out," he insisted with a concurring stomp of his boot on the stair. "We have been working together nonstop since this damn occupation began. We both agreed a little time apart would be healthy."

"Uh-huh," she replied as he reached the landing. His new position relative to the light unfortunately gave him the full view of her knowing smirk. "So you don't plan to go sulk in the bath?"

He did not dignify that with a response. He was soaked to the skin; of course he was going to go take a bath. As he walked down the hall to his own room, he expected Rook to make some additional remark, but surprisingly, she retreated without further commentary.

Once in his room, he quickly stripped out of his dripping cloak and hung it on the rack near the fireplace. He was too eager to be rid of the rest of his wet clothing to deal with potentially damp tinder, so he settled for just lighting the candles in the candlestick on his dresser until he had finished his bath. He had paid a hefty sum to have dwarven plumbing installed in the house, but having a hot bath ready at the touch of a rune was worth every copper.

He carried the candlestick into the adjoining bathing chamber and set it on the marble counter below the mirror. His own shadowed reflection flickered there, but the reflection of the door to the room drew his eye. He turned and pushed the door half-closed.

There was nothing there. Instead of his favorite dressing gown he saw nothing but an empty hook.

An aggravated noise growled in his throat. All he had wanted was to take a warm bath, get in his dressing gown, and then read by the fire until he had put his disagree—his discussion with Teia out of his mind. And now he was being denied even that for Maker knew what reason.

Maybe only the Maker knew the why, but Viago certainly knew the who. He stalked back down the hallway, pounded with a closed fist on Rook's door, and waited impatiently until she cracked it open.

"Where is my dressing gown?"

Rook frowned at him. "What?"

He drew in sharp breath through his nose. "Where is my dressing gown?"

"Why would I know where your dressing gown is?" Rook retorted. "You probably left it at the Diamond."

"I did not leave it at the Diamond. I leave my favorite one here specifically so that it will not be misplaced."

Rook smirked at him again. "Well, sometimes plans go awry."

With another growl, he pushed her door open and shouldered past her. Just as he expected, the door to her bathing chamber was closed, and he ignored Rook's protests to bang on that door as well.

"Whoever is in there," he shouted, "if you have my dressing gown, you will return it immediately."

"What the hell, Viago?" Rook demanded as she grabbed his elbow. "Get out of my room!"

"I will not until I get my—"

The door opened, and Viago swallowed the rest of his sentence. And possibly part of his tongue. Lucanis Dellamorte stood on the threshold wearing clothes that had obviously been thrown on (or thrown back on) haphazardly. His shirt hung lopsided from being buttoned incorrectly, and the fabric was wet enough to be see-through. He looked back at Viago with a perfectly composed expression, but a slight flush colored his cheeks.

"My apologies," he said as he held out Viago's dressing gown. "We weren't expecting you, but it was still rude of me to borrow this without your permission."

When Viago made no move to take it, Lucanis's eyes flicked to Rook for just a moment before returning to him. "Or I can take it to the villa and have it laundered if you'd prefer. I can have someone deliver it back here as soon as possible."

Rook let out a loud breath. "This is ridiculous. Viago, you have at least three other dressing gowns and half a dozen pairs of silk pajamas. And, Lucanis, you're dripping on the rug."

A moment of awkward silence passed before Viago found his voice again. "Forgive my lack of hospitality, Lucanis. You may of course borrow my dressing gown until your clothes have dried."

"It's really not necessary," Lucanis protested.

"I'm afraid it is," Viago replied. "Rook is right. You are dripping on the rug."

Lucanis glanced down. "Ah," he said. Then he put his hand to his chest, gave a slight bow, and stepped back into the bathing chamber with a quiet "Excuse me."

As soon as the door closed behind him, Viago grabbed Rook's upper arm and pulled her out to the hallway.

"You should have told me it was Lucanis in there!" he hissed at her.

"You didn't give me much of a chance when you bowled me over!" she hissed back.

"You should have said he was here as soon as I arrived!"

"I didn't want to deal with this!"

He scowled. "This? What this?"

"This!" she exclaimed as she gestured at all of him. "This whole"—she drew herself up straighter and pretended to stroke a nonexistent beard as she lowered her voice—"'What were you thinking?' this."

"I know exactly what you were thinking," Viago shot back. "The same thing you always think. Nothing."

Rook rolled her eyes and turned to go back inside her room, but he grabbed her arm again so she was forced to face him.

"He is the First Talon and an abomination," Viago insisted. "Do you have any idea how dangerous—"

"Dangerous?" she repeated, and incredulity dripped from the word. "Viago, I have literal gods trying to kill me."

"And while you are distracted, one of the other Houses could strike against him and you."

He closed his eyes as he forced himself to take a deep breath. When he opened them again, Rook gazed up at him, a furrow in her brow.

"I can only protect you from the threats I know," Viago said. "I cannot protect you from gods."

That fact haunted his thoughts throughout the day and his dreams at night. It had only gotten worse since he had seen them with his own eyes, since he had stood helplessly frozen by ancient magic as Rook—his Rook—stared them down.

Rook's lips curled up in a slight smile. "You did all right against those dragons. Did I ever thank you for that?"

He huffed. "No."

"Well, when this is all over, maybe I will." Rook shook her head. "I have a team to protect me, Viago. Lucanis is part of that team. And I need them with me."

He heard what she did not say: I need him with me. It was a sentiment he understood all too well. The occupation would have ground him to dust long before if he had not had Teia at his side.

Maker, he loved her. Even when too many dangers and too many stresses made them snipe at each other until she told him to give her space for a night. He would have to find a way to make it up to her. He really needed her advice about the situation he had just discovered. She probably already knew. She'd probably be terribly smug about knowing.

"Just... be careful," he finally said with a sigh.

When she was younger, Rook used to laugh when he said that. Now she nodded.

"You too," she said quietly.

They stood a moment longer in awkward silence until she grinned up at him, hands on her hips.

"Well, I have another Talon waiting for me, and he outranks you." She waved her hands at him. "So... shoo."

Viago rolled his eyes. "Maker's blood," he muttered.

But he could not completely stifle his smile as he headed back to his own room. He could not remember how long it had been since they had slept under the same roof.

If that meant also sleeping under the same roof as a Dellamorte, so be it.

At least it wasn't Illario.

[sleep-i-ness]

Commentary of the Heart (Part 1)

Synopsis: You've been pining after Oliver Wood for months and maybe the Christmas break is finally your chance

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST | GENERAL MASTERLIST | PART 2

Oliver leant against a wall, watching the revelry with a barely touched drink in his hand and an air of lethargy hanging around him. An odd heat crept up the back of your neck as he tugged his tie loose, running a hand through his still-damp hair (and no, you were not going to think about him in the shower). You eyed him with a burgeoning sense of frustration; it was frankly unfair. No one had the right to look that good after being pummelled on the Quidditch pitch for a good few hours. Not least of all when the Dementors had made an appearance.

You thankfully had the good sense not to air these frustrations to your circle of friends, although Angelina was looking at you far too intensely for your comfort. At least Fred, George and Lee were too busy chasing down shots to pay much attention to your straying focus. You loved them, you really did, but you’d rather die than have them find out that you were pining over their captain. They had enough to tease you about without this on top of it all.

The common room was bustling with fifth years and up from every house; no one could ever say Gryffindor was a sore loser. You tilted your head as Oliver sighed, staring at his drink without taking a sip and your eyes narrowed slightly. Angelina nudged you and you jolted, whipping your head round with a guilty smile.

“Go talk to him,” she murmured, and you glanced behind her at the boys, who were far too invested in pouring out more shots to eavesdrop.

“Who?”

Angelina just gave you a look and you smiled sheepishly.

“Fine.” You took a deep breath and raised your voice slightly for the boys. “I’m just going to get myself another drink – that doesn’t consist of pure alcohol.”

“Boring!” Fred called after you in a sing-song tone and George just laughed as you stuck out your tongue in response. You wandered over to the table on the side, topping up your cup with pumpkin juice and after some deliberation, red currant rum. It wasn’t as if you were searching for the finest concoction you could muster, more just a form of a liquid courage. At the sight of the sour look on Oliver’s face, you added another dash of rum to your cup.

It didn’t look or smell horrendous, but you held your breath anyway as you swallowed it down before making your way over to him. Oliver’s brow furrowed as you walked up, coming to a stop just in front of him.

“Nice work out there today,” you smiled softly up at him.

“Thanks.” He mustered a tired smile in response, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Shouldn’t you be out on the floor drowning your sorrows with your team?” As if listening to your conversation, a loud whoop came from behind you, and you glanced over your shoulder to see Fred attempting to down a pint of Firewhisky with Lee and George cheering him on. You didn’t even want to know where he’d got that from, but you were pretty sure you’d be having to help carry him up to bed. You stifled an urge to roll your eyes as liquid dribbled down his chin and turned back to Oliver. “Or are you too busy mourning today’s loss alone? I see your shower-drowning attempt wasn’t successful,”

Oliver rolled his eyes and swirled the amber liquid in his glass, pursing his lips. “Just not quite in the mood to be getting as wasted as Fred seems to be doing.”

You shrugged. And then added with a laugh, “I can always take that drink off your hands if you’re feeling particularly responsible and sober tonight.”

“Hey,” Oliver laughed, lifting up his glass to dodge your hands, “I didn’t say that, now did I?”

You held your hands up in surrender, lips twitching. “I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t going to waste.”

He raised an eyebrow, and you beamed, blinking at him as innocently as you could muster. At his rather insistent scepticism, you dropped the act and switched tacks. “Got any Christmas plans?”

Oliver sighed. “Staying here for the vac. Apparently, I need to spend more time studying instead of on the pitch. And that’s not going to happen during termtime.”

“And it’s going to happen during the Christmas break?”

He shrugged. “Might as well try. What about you?”

You wrinkled your nose. “Not quite sure yet, probably staying here but it depends on my parents’ work. They’re abroad at the moment and the timings aren’t certain so I’m mentally preparing myself for a quiet holiday here.”

“Fred and George staying as well?”

“They’re going home, invited me along and everything, but I can’t impose myself on the Weasleys again. They were kind enough over the summer.”

Oliver nodded, taking a long swig from his glass and you withheld a laugh.

“Well, it’s nice to know you’ll be around as well,” you offered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “If you ever need a study companion, just let me know – I should probably get a head start on my O.W.L. revision considering how much free time I’ll have.”

“You’re far more forward-thinking than I was in Fifth Year.”

“Well, not all of us can rely on our superstar Quidditch abilities to get us a job after this,” you teased, noting with delight the pink tinging his ears.

“I wouldn’t say superstar-”

“Nonsense, Ollie,” Fred interrupted, slinging an arm around his shoulder, and you smirked at the slightly resigned expression on his face. “Now, come do shots with us and celebrate those absolutely beautiful saves today. Come on, you as well, trouble. You’re basically our mascot now.”

You rolled your eyes. “I swear to Merlin, Frederick Weasley, if that is another jab at my hair today, I will hex you blue.”

“Uhh,” Fred offered intelligently, eyes widening comically. “No?”

“The famous Weasley wit, ladies and gentlemen,” you spread out your arms, smirking at the stifled chuckle from Oliver at your side. Fred furrowed his brows, jutting out his lower lip as you watched him attempt to formulate some response whilst equally making sure that your hand didn’t slip any further towards your wand. He’d been on the receiving end of your jinxes before, and he did not want a repeat of the duck incident. He’d had an odd craving for bread for a good few weeks after.

Luckily for him, George swept in with a slight head shake to his brother and a glass pressed into your hands, meaning you were far too busy to pull out a wand and make good on your threat. That did not mean you lessened the glare you were giving Fred, who merely continue to pout at you and batted his eyelashes.

Fred darted off to round up the cavalry, dragging over a more-than-reluctant Alicia from where she was hiding out in the corner with a slightly dishevelled Lee and you shared a knowing look with Angelina.

“Right, fuck Hufflepuff and let’s drink to Harry’s good health!”

You whooped wholeheartedly, flushing as Oliver glanced at you, and quashed the rising embarrassment with the sting of Ogden’s Old.

-

You rubbed your eyes blearily as you stepped out of the Common Room, making your way down to the Hall. It was already oddly silent in the castle’s corridors, a sure sign that most students had already departed for the Christmas holidays, and you sighed. Nothing but studying and boredom awaited you over these next few weeks, and even the Christmas festivities couldn’t encourage Madame Pince to be a little laxer in the Library or Snape to smile for once. At least you could take solace in the fact that you weren’t totally alone; that was, if Oliver actually wanted to spend time with you. You weren’t going to hold your breath, but a small traitorous part of you whispered that now was your chance.

You trailed your fingers along the banister as you wandered down the staircase to the Great Hall; no need to hurry and get caught up in the rush of students leaving. Breakfast would wait for you, and besides, it wasn’t as if you’d slept in. You’d hesitate to say that nerves had woken you up early, but there was no better way of describing the butterflies swirling in your stomach.

Before you’d even managed to get down the stairs, you felt a rush of breeze before something solid collided with you and forced the air out of you. You stumbled backwards into a hard object, hands flying outwards to steady yourself. Once you’d regained your balance, you dropped George’s arm with a grateful smile and turned to Fred with a frown.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that! You’re not going to see us for a whole two weeks, how are you going to survive?” He pouted, ruffling your hair. You whacked his hand off your head with narrowed eyes and he gulped.

“Maybe I’m looking forward to some peace and quiet.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, darling.” Fred slung an arm round your shoulders, tugging you in close. “You know you’re going to miss us.”

“Mm, I think you’re probably going to be missing me more,” you teased, breaking out from under his arm to slip next to George’s side.

“Why does he get all the love? You can’t go around picking a favourite twin like that!”

“Oh, shut up, Freddie,” you sighed half-heartedly, grin tugging at the corner of your lips. “It’s only two weeks anyway.”

“Two weeks that you could be spending with us at the Burrow, though,” George interjected, and you spun round with an accusing finger outstretched.

“You’re meant to be on my side!”

George shrugged. “I didn’t realise this was a sides thing. Besides, there’s plenty of room at the Burrow; Ronnie has decided to spend his holidays here with Harry and Hermione, much to Mum’s displeasure.”

“I can’t,” you sighed. “I’ve got to catch up on the work that some evil twins have been distracting me from.”

“Boring.”

You stuck your tongue out at Fred in place of a retort and he just sniggered.

“You’re definitely sure you want to stay here?” George murmured, placing his hands on your shoulders and looking you deep in the eyes. You tilted your head at him, smile pulling at your lips at his worry.

“Yeah, promise. I’ll write you loads, and you better respond this time,” you teased.

“Worth a try,” he shrugged. “We’ll see you in two weeks, then.”

And he turned to follow his brother down the stairs and out the doors.

“Don’t miss me too much!” You called after them in a sing-song voice, and George just waved goodbye in response.

You sighed as the doors swung shut behind them with a clang. Hogwarts had never felt like such a prison. And part of you was deeply regretting not taking George up on his offer. You stared into the middle distance, hand gripping the railing, as you pursed your lips. You could already picture a Weasley Christmas, the bustle, the food, the familial affection, the laughter, and it made your chest ache just a little.

It wasn’t your parents’ fault that they’d been sent out on a work trip over Christmas; the Auror Office wasn’t known for being the most considerate of public holidays, but sometimes you wished that they worked nice normal 9-5s, home for dinner and there when you needed them.

“Everything alright?” A deep voice startled you from your little pity party and you spun round with a guilty look on your face.

“Oliver!” You cried, pressing a hand to your thudding heart. “You made me jump!”

“Yeah, you looked a little out of it there.”

You flushed. “Just… thinking.”

Oliver’s eyes narrowed slightly, and his brows furrowed, lips slightly pursed (not that you were thinking about his lips) but his gaze remained steady and unwavering, almost like he was trying to see straight through you.

And then his face relaxed into a soft smile. “Have you had breakfast yet?”

“No, actually,” you were grateful for the change of topic, “I was just on my way there.”

“Care for some company?”

Your stomach turned slightly, churned up by the rise of butterflies fluttering, or more accurately, racing around but you managed an answering smile. “I’d love some.”

-

“Psst.” The hiss cut its way through the silence that hung over the library, just quiet enough to avoid Madame Pince’s wrath, although you could already picture the witch glancing up with a stern look on her face. You, on the other hand, stared harder at the writing on the page, hoping that maybe if you focused just a little bit more, the specifics of wand legislation would Defodio themselves into your brain, etching themselves permanently into the tissue of your memory. The letters began to blur as you reread the same line over and over again; Clause Three of the 1631 Code of Wand Use is also known as the ‘Wand Ban’, stating that ‘No non-human creature is permitted to carry or use a wand… Of course, you understood why History of Magic was important; not repeating the same mistakes, learning from our past, blah blah, but it had to be the dullest thing imaginable. And Professor Binns didn’t exactly help with that.

“Psst!” Your head slipped from your hand with a jolt, and you glanced up, lips twisting into a grimace as you made eye contact with Oliver from across the library. You raised an eyebrow. He grinned and tilted his head towards the door as he pushed his chair back with a screech and bundled his books into his arms. You sighed, before mirroring his actions.

He kept his pace slow until you fell into step with him, giving you a grin as you rolled your eyes.

“Revision going well then?” You murmured, shooting a look towards Madame Pince’s desk and making eye contact with the beady eyed witch.

Oliver waited until you’d gotten outside of the library to respond, holding the door open for you and shooting Madame Pince a wink as she glared at the pair of you. “You’re one to talk. You could barely keep your eyes open in there – and how many times did you reread that same page?”

You huffed, crossing your arms and refusing to make eye contact with him. He did have a point. “It’s not my fault that wand legislation is perhaps the dullest topic I have ever had the misfortune of learning about.”

“I see you’ve really chosen the exciting stuff to kick your revision off with,” he laughed and you elbowed him.

“Where are we off to then?”

Oliver tapped his chin in mock thought, and you couldn’t help the giggle that made its way out of you, accompanied by a rising flush in your cheeks. Merlin, you were obvious. Tittering like a thirteen-year-old around her crush, like everything he said or did was the funniest thing ever. It wasn’t your fault he made you laugh.

“Well, I was thinking a nice flight around the castle to clear our heads.”

A grin tugged at the corner of your lips. “You read my mind. But I’m the one casting the Impervius charm this time. Honestly, Ollie, you’d think as a Seventh Year you’d have a better grasp on charms than a Fifth Year.”

He scratched the back of his neck with a sheepish look. “Charms has never been my strong suit.”

“Well, when you can save a goal like you can, I can understand not needing to put effort into your schoolwork. Surely you’ve got your whole life planned out now.”

He gave you an odd look. “You know, sometimes I can’t tell if you’re taking the piss out of me or complimenting me.”

You blinked innocently. “…Complimenting. Just go with always complimenting.”

Oliver’s laugh burst out unexpectedly, his eyes widening in surprise, and for a moment, he paused, blinking in disbelief. His shoulders shook slightly as he attempted to choke down the laughter, a brief, almost sheepish look flitting across his face.

Christmas with Oliver was far from boring, you decided. And filled with far less work than you had hope to complete during the break, but you weren’t exactly complaining. You hadn’t really wanted to spend the holidays studying, head buried in textbooks until your vision swam and your eyes hurt.

--

Footsteps thudded down the corridor, gradually growing louder as they approached the empty Charms classroom you had chosen as your study spot for the afternoon (no, you were not scared to return because Madame Pince had given you such a stern look last time you had left the Library in fits of giggles.) You glanced up briefly, before shaking your head and staring back at the instructions for brewing a Polyjuice Potion.

You copied down the steps one by one:

Add 3 measures of fluxweed to the cauldron (must have been picked on a full moon).

Add 2 bundles of knotgrass to the cauldron.

And the door burst open, disturbing your peace and solitude that had lasted all of maybe half an hour, when Oliver had decided he was too antsy to keep sitting and writing notes for an afternoon. But you refused to give in and look up, you were in a rhythm now,

Stir 4 times, clockwise.

Wave your wand then let potion brew for 80 minutes (for a Pewter Cauldron. A Brass Cauldron will only require 68, and a copper one only 60.)

“Oi, Y/N.” You were unsurprised to hear Oliver panting at the door, feet scuffing on the floor as he inched closer to your desk.

“Buzz off, Oliver.”

Right.

Add 4 leeches to the cauldron.

“Please, I’m so bored and so lonely.”

You rolled your eyes with a sigh.

Add 2 scoops of lacewing flies to the mortar, crush to a fine paste, then add 2 measures of the crushed lacewings to the cauldron.

“Please, please, please.” You could almost hear the pout in Oliver’s voice, and it took all your resolve not to look up and just give in. You’d actually managed to get some work done in the time he’d been gone, and you were not going to let him stop you now.

Heat for 30 seconds on a low heat.

And then he sat on your desk. Spilling your ink pot everywhere.

“Oliver!” You shrieked as ink splattered across your beautiful, handwritten notes, hand flying up to cover your mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m so sorry, hang on, Scourgify!” Oliver waved his wand rather hopelessly, darting out of reach of your hand flailing out to slap him. The ink dribbled away from your page, and you stared at the rather slapdash cleaning job.

Well, that had certainly ruined your concentration for the afternoon. You weren’t sure you could face rewriting those notes without crying.

“What do you want?” You glared at him, chewing on the inside of your lip to keep your expression stern as he stared at you with all the sadness of a kicked puppy.

“Company?” He squeaked.

You took a deep breath, slammed your textbook shut and folded your arms.

“Please, Y/N, I’m begging you. I’m so bored.”

“You’ve not even been working for the last half hour; what have you even been doing?”

Oliver looked away, mouth opening and then closing again in a rather gormless way. A little voice in your brain whispered that it was rather endearing, but you battered that thought away with ferocity. His boredom had cost you half a page of notes. Yes, they were still legible, but they weren’t pretty anymore.

“Fine,” you sighed. Giving in. “What is it? Off to the pitch again then?”

You tilted your head as you looked up at Oliver, waiting for him to answer before you followed.

“Not in this weather,” Oliver chuckled. “You’re just a soft Southerner; I’m not having you catch hypothermia.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Don’t be a prick, Ollie. There’s such thing as Impervius.”

“Well, if you’re desperate to go out into a snowstorm, I won’t be stopping you. Otherwise…”

You glanced outside at the icy blizzard, shivered involuntarily, and turned back to him. “Go on.”

“Hot chocolate from the kitchen and then back to the common room?”

“Only if you promise me a game of Wizarding Chess.” You stretched out a hand, blinking innocently as he narrowed his eyes at you.

“What’s the forfeit this time?”

The last time you and Oliver had played Wizarding Chess had been with a bottle of Firewhisky on hand and a shot for every piece lost, which had quickly derailed into a midnight jaunt to the top of the Astronomy Tower and getting a little too close for the firmly established lines of friendship between you. Not that you were sure Oliver had noticed or even remembered. If it weren’t for the secrets of Hogwarts that Fred and George had imparted on you, there was no way you would have been able to lug that man back to the Common Room without Filch or someone else stumbling across you.

“Nothing?” You shrugged, and at his penetrating gaze, offered, “Up to you?”

“Deal.” He shook your hand, and then instead of letting go, dragged you off towards that one specific pear painting. You should never have shown it to him; he’d been abusing it mercilessly recently. Not that you particularly minded the random study session snacks; they were sweet and although you were far too logical to entertain the fantastical notions that cropped up in your thoughts, one teeny tiny part of you had decided that they were his version of a declaration of love.

[deeplyshalllow]

hi! your wicked essays/commentary is phenomenal. i was thinking about fiyero and after a number of scenes coming up on my dash i had a sudden theory for why fiyero's character might be the way he is too: can fiyero actually, literally charm people into his bidding by looking directly in their eyes?

reasons being:

his first meeting with elphaba- he tries to banter playfully to offset her defensiveness but it doesnt work, then he tries the smolder and is genuinely lost as to why that doesn't seem to win her over.

walking into school- what he asks for he is given and people look into his face and are smitten.

dancing through life song/scene- when he looks into glinda's eyes and says 'follow me' to everyone, and they do. looking into the librarians eyes and singing/telling her his views.

he also looks directly into the characters' eyes without blinking, an old hypnotism and brainwashing technique/element.

so maybe elphaba's magic doesn't work on him (poppy's) and his doesn't work on her (being charmed and obedient/following his lead).

his illusion is a real and true illusion of being 'genuinely self absorbed and deeply shallow', and it's never questioned or even imagined. the victims are so deeply in his thrall that his mask cannot be seen or broken through, until elphaba, who is unbothered by it and doesn't seem to even notice it. he tries again and again his standard ways of looking into her eyes and even telling her what to do ("you don't have to do that", waving in the library) but she always has her own mind present and is unswayed.

something something narrative mirrors, soulmates who recognize each other and are inspired by each other. gelphie is beautiful in its own way, but glinda seems more to bring into elphaba's life self-acceptance and comfort (being worthy of love, having inherent value and being someone worth standing up for). fiyero challenges her perceptions of the world, confront her demons, and seems to inspire her, even if it frightens her and is against how she views herself ("i'm not that girl). i'm crying all these babies deserve all the love TT_TT

what do you think?

Hey :)

I love the theory! @enigma731 did a piece on it too here which is well worth a read if you haven't done so already.

I think it's definitely plausible. We get a lot of small magic and differences in Oz for our world and this would be a fun one to include - especially as Jonathan Bailey has said that there's gonna be some relevance to him wearing blue contacts for Fiyero.

Saying that, I also think it works with Fiyero not having power more than good looks and the right background. A lot of what we learn about Oz is that it's very shallow, it judges Elphaba almost entirely on her green skin (and those who don't judge her on her talent for magic and how they can abuse it) and Fiyero, likewise, is judged on his goodlooks and position - and it's led to both of them keeping a lot of the good traits about themselves hidden, given all they are judged on are accidents of birth. So it is beautiful when they do both find each other and see through "different eyes" each other's inner beauty - that's what the "it's not lying it's looking at things another way," line is about when they discuss each other's beauty - because these two are the most strong and beautiful characters in the narrative in terms of their goodness (Glinda is getting there by the end but she's got a lot of penance to make for some of the terrible choices she makes earlier in the narrative.)

In a way I don't know if it matters so much if Fiyero has magic powers or just is good looking enough for Oz to treat him nicely. What matters is that it means that he's not seen for his true self (even by himself I think) until he comes across Elphaba

[annab-nana]

okay so I suck at making requests but want to support you the most I can so here I am hihi. can you write something with “hi. i am here to be your nurse.” please? maybe with robin buckley? but you can choose anyone you want ☺️ I love you hihi <3

omg of course and we are 100% doing this with robin! i love her and get so little requests for her so i was soooooo excited to see this one! i love you too sweetheart <333

warnings: not proofread, rambly nervous robin, wound cleaning, set in s4, a little bit of a longer blurb

❀ masterlist ❀

once the lot of you had dashed over to max's after leaving the upside down, everyone took a collective breather. steve, robin, and max were checking in on nancy and dustin was further explaining his plan to eddie, lucas and erica adding in their own aiding commentary. you took the opportunity to slip off to the bathroom.

even though every single one of them was a friend to you, you just couldn't truly relax and think with so many people around you. you also had bigger issues on your hands.

"shit," you hissed when you slowly and carefully pulled your pants down to reveal the damage the demobats—dustin's term, not yours—did to your thighs. they did a number on both, but your left truly took a worse hit than your right. "no more shorts for me for a while i guess."

glancing around to see what you could use to help your wounds, your eyes landed on the sink before you reached to turn the faucet on. first, you needed to get this clean. there was no telling what those things had and could've transferred over to you.

a knock pulled you from your focus.

"hey, it's robin," the girl announced. "max gave me some supplies to help you and steve clean up."

"is steve out there too?" you were comfortable with robin seeing you without pants on and steve wouldn't have been so bad. you would rather it be robin alone though.

"it's just me."

you let out a small sigh in relief. "okay, you can come in."

she opened the door only a sliver before sliding in. when her eyes met yours, she showed her famous slightly awkward grin. "hi. i am here to be your nurse."

the girl always knew how to put a smile on your face even in the worst of times.

"where do you want me, dr. b?"

she sat the stuff max had given her down on the counter and patted the empty space next to it. "right here will be fine." she then squatted down to open some cabinets, pulling out a large first aid kit that looked very well used. "we hit the jackpot coming to the mayfield's. max's mom has always been super paranoid of a skating injury so we've lucked out."

"i don't know if i consider myself lucky given the events," you mentioned, glancing down at your legs. "but, i do appreciate the positivity."

once she got set up, robin started gently pressing the wet rag to your wounds. your hands gripped harshly at the counter's edge while she whispered gentle i'm sorry's and i'll be done soon's.

she kept her head down, eyes focused on the task at hand, but you couldn't help but watch her. she stuck her tongue out ever so slightly in the most adorable way. her hands were so delicate as they touched you. her soft reassurances filled your heart with warmth and love.

"i really appreciate you doing this by the way." her eyes glanced up to meet yours before looking back down at her work.

"ye-yeah, no problem," she spoke quickly. "what are friends for?"

"oh, you've wounded me, rob," you teased, but it appeared with the way that her face dropped that she misunderstood.

"oh my g- i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to. i'll try to press more gently. i'm sorr-"

"robin, not with that."

"with what then?" sometimes, the girl could be so oblivious.

"what are friends for?" you repeated her words back to her. "i thought we were a little more than that."

"well, you're not just a friend to me. you're like my best friend. like my best best friend. more than steve even, but don't tell him i said that because he would be crushed and i can't deal with him being all down. it's so sad and he gets all mopey and clingy, but not saying that i wouldn't ever be there for him. it's just i-"

you cut her off with a call of her name, her eyes snapping to yours instead of bouncing all over the place as she rambled. "robin."

"yeah?"

"can i kiss you?"

her eyes practically bulged out of her head before she fully processed what you said and nodded in agreement. with a surge forward, your lips were on hers, relishing in the feeling they had wanted for so long. the circumstances weren't the greatest and it was highly likely that neither of you would make it out of this whole vecna thing alive. maybe that's what added to your urgency to kiss her, the fear that you would never be able to.

when you pulled away, robin attempted to fight off her growing grin while you relished in yours.

"i have to admit, i like your bedside manner, buckley."

"let's get you cleaned up and maybe we can do some more of that, yeah?"

"sounds wonderful, dr. b."

remember to support writers & reblog :)

turn on notifications for @annab-library to be notified when i post something new or join the tag list here!

tagging: @fiction-is-life @jellyfishbeansontoast

[pale-opal]

Mega Man Ships, but They're Explained Reverse Pandora's Box Style - Part 1

So here's how this is gonna work. I'm going to use a shipping template to explain a bunch of the Mega Man ships that I support. But here's the catch - with every ship, the list is going to get more and more obscure. Let me explain further:

The ship we start with will be something well-known, and the last one will be one so bizarre and out-there that you might want to argue with me once you see what it is. Heck, you might want to argue with me at any point during this. And you know what? Go for it. I enjoy debates. Just be respectful. We can settle this like responsible members of society.

I am a multishipper. If you ever see the same person twice, that's why.

 Some characters are aged up slightly (none of the kids are adults now, don't worry), because I like to think the characters age over time (that and I can't believe they gave Rock the Ash Ketchum treatment...). I will be going off of headcanons and vibes for characters without confirmed ages.

While I could give commentary giving context for each of these ships and the content I put in the template, I won't (except for special instances). Instead, I'll write a oneshot for each one.

Not only that, but I will also be linking a song for each ship! Although I won't be explaining those, or else we'd have a bunch of mini-essays of me doing lyrical analysis (but. Hypothetically. If you wanted me to do an essay for any of these songs for any of this ships. I would not be opposed).

Every ship will be under a cut. You don't know what you'll get unless you click the button. That way, you won't get jumpscared by some crazy, out-there ship while you're scrolling through your dash as this series goes on (that, and this series' title has to make sense somehow).

I've tried to make my handwriting as legible as possible (I'm not very good at writing digitally), but if you can't read something, let me know.

The inspiration and original template for this post have been snatched from here. However, you may notice that some parts of the template have been censored on this post. This was done for two reasons: 1. Some parts of the original template are suggestive, and I try to keep my blog PG for the most part. 2. On that note, some ships are between characters who are minors. And I do not want to make any sort of suggestive content about underaged individuals or children (or anybody else, tbh), thank you.

The censored version of this template can be found here in case you would like to use it (it might look like nothing's there, but that's because the background is transparent):

Now that the ground rules have been established, it is time to prove to you all that I (mostly) come in peace. Go ahead, open the box.

-> Next (link will be added when the next part is ready) -> Last (link will be added when final part of this series is out)

See? I told you the first one would be normal! - Ship name: Bassroll/Rollass - Song: "Head Over Heels" (1985) by Tears for Fears

--- This was a stupid idea. Bass stood outside of the Lights' residence, wanting to kick himself. Even if Roll answered the door, who was to say that she would react well to what he had to say? Stupid, he thought. Absolutely stupid. His fist hovered above the door, as if he were about to knock - but then he put it back down, shaking his head. He spun on his heel, as if he were about to leave, only for the door to open behind him. "Bass?" Bass jumped at the sound of Roll's voice, face burning as he heard Roll's voice. He swore at himself - what was he getting so flustered for?! He turned back around and took a deep breath. "Roll." "What are you doing here? Are you looking for Rock?" "Nah. I'm here for you." Roll's eyes widened, and Bass could've sworn she saw her turn a shade of pink - but it disappeared as soon as it appeared. "You - you are?" She soon became angry, and crossed her arms. "Why? Are you here to kidnap me again?"

"Nope. Kinda the opposite." He walked back to the door, standing in front of her. "I want you to leave me alone."

Roll blinked, confused. "What?"

"You heard me. I want you to stay away from me. Quit showin' up to help Rock in fights, quit comin' over to be a 'good influence' for my sisters. Just back off."

Roll's brow furrowed. "And why should I?"

"Because I can't focus around you, that's why! How am I supposed to fight Rock or do whatever random garbage Wily comes up with for me to do around the fortress if you're always there?"

"I still don't see the problem."

"That's the issue! You don't know what you do to me, you-" Bass stopped, his face flushing. Why did she have to look at him with those stupid eyes? "Nothin'. Forget it. Do what you want." He turned and left, his ears burning from how hard he was blushing.

Roll, on the other hand, was absolutely stunned. Could it be that Bass felt the same way about her that she did about him? Why else would he get so red when talking to her? And how else could she "do something" to him when she'd never laid a finger on him? But - no, that was ridiculous. He'd just told her to leave him alone! But at the same time... Roll sighed. There was only one way to settle this.

She had to talk to Bass.

---

"I don't want to watch this movie!"

Bass rolled his eyes at Waltz's whining. "It's my turn with the TV. And I don't want to watch it, either. But I had to pick somethin' 'age appropriate' for you two, since neither of you know how to take a hint and bug off."

Piano looked at Bass curiously. "Brother, you are being uncharacteristically hostile toward us. Is something wrong?"

Bass cocked an eyebrow. "You speak way too proper for an eight-year-old, you know that?"

Piano frowned. "You are trying to change the subject."

Bass clucked his tongue. "Look, I'm not mad at you and Waltz, okay? I'm just not in a good mood right now."

"Why?" Waltz asked.

Bass shrugged. "I dunno. I just... well, today I had to tell somebody who was gettin' on my nerves not to be around me anymore. But now I feel kind of... weird about it."

"Are you sad?"

"I don't know, Waltz. I don't want to talk about it. Let's just watch the mo-"

"Bass?"

Bass flinched and almost fell off the couch. He turned to his left, and sure enough, Roll was standing there. "What the - who let you in?! And didn't I just tell you to stay away from me?!"

Waltz squealed and ran up to Roll. "Roll, Roll! Are you here to play with me and Piano again?"

"We would like it very much if you did," Piano said, walking next to Waltz. "Dr. Wily bought us a new tea set yesterday, but Bass isn't any good at having tea with us."

"Yeah!" Waltz agreed. "He's the worst at playing pretend. But you're great at it, Roll!"

"Maybe we can play tomorrow," Roll said. "I came over to talk to your brother."

"Aww! Okay..."

"I have to advise you that he is not in a very good mood," Piano warned. "And based on what he just said, I gather that you have something to do with it. If I were you, I would exercise caution and try to determine if the conversation you are about to have with him is truly worth it."

"Oh, don't worry, Piano. I already thought about it."

Piano nodded and grabbed Waltz's hand. "Very well. Come with me, Waltz. I have an idea for something we could do."

Bass' sisters left the room, and Roll and Bass were left alone. "So," Bass said, staring at the TV to distract himself from Roll, "What do you want?"

Roll sat down next to him. She had to keep herself from looking too hard at Bass - he somehow managed to still be cute, even when he was angry. "I thought about what you said earlier."

"Psh. As if. If that were true, you wouldn't be here."

"I had to tell you something."

"Which is?"

"You know how you said I do something to you? Even though we've never fought or anything?"

Bass huffed. How could she not realize the affect she had on him? He moved away from her, wondering if that would help. It didn't. In fact, it made it worse. She moved closer, wanting to return the distance between them to its original state. She wants to sit next to me... Bass had to put his head in one of his hands to hide how red that realization made him. "What? You mean what you're doing now?"

"Yes. Uhm... I think... I think you do the same thing to me."

Bass scoffed. "Yeah, right." He felt fine to look at Roll now, the stupidity of her statement making him laugh. "Do you even know what you're sayin'?"

"I do!" Roll pursed her lips. Was she really going to say what she was about to? What if she was completely wrong about this whole thing? What if the reality of the situation was something really ridiculous, like she was a carrier of Roboenza and made Bass sick whenever she was around him? Or what if Bass was just really mad at her? But then again - she would never know for sure unless she said what she felt, right? "I... I like you, Bass. I like you a lot."

Bass snorted, and Roll felt her heart sink. Had she been wrong after all? "'Like me'? Really? What, you wanna be friends or somethin'? I thought Rock was the only one in your family stupid enough to try that."

"That's not it," Roll corrected. Her confidence was starting to come back. It wasn't that she was wrong - Bass had just misunderstood her. "That's not it! I - I want to be more than friends with you."

"What? Like 'best friends'? Wow. Not even Rock would think that we could be-"

"No!" Roll stood up, frustrated. "How do you not understand?! I want you to - I don't know, take me out on a date! Or something!"

Bass gaped for a second, shocked. Then he began to snicker. "And why would I do that?"

"Because - because you like me, too. Or at least, I think you do..."

Bass scoffed. "No I don't. You're a Lightbot. I hate..." he trailed off. For some reason, the word 'hate' didn't quite fit how he felt about Roll. Even though it fit perfectly for Rock. And Blues. Blues sucked. But for Roll, it was different. He didn't really have anything against her. She never tried to preach to him about how he was "more than his programming" and had "goodness in him", like Rock did. And she never tried to grill him about why he did the things he did, or how he saw himself like Blues did. But she did make his core overheat whenever he saw her, or make it hard to think, or make his insides feel all fuzzy. And it didn't help that she was kind of pretty looking...

Wait.

Wait.

Was Roll... was Roll right?

"No - no you can't be serious. I can't - I can't like you, I - oh, I'm done. Wily's going to kill me. I'm dead. He's gonna be so freakin' pi- wait. I don't have to tell him. Yeah. Yeah, the old man doesn't need to know about this! This doesn't stop me from cleanin' Rock's clock. This... I can work with this. It's all good. I've got this..."

"Hey, Bass?"

"And I'm sure there's a way to turn this off. I mean, I didn't start out like this. This is recent. It's been... what, two months since you started screwin' with my head? It's cool. I can fix it. It's fine. All I have to do is just... think of somethin' I don't like about you."

"Bass, listen..."

"Okay, let's see." Bass thought for a moment, standing in front of Roll to get a better look at her. He tried to think back to every time they had talked, every time they had a petty exchanging of words. But... no. There was nothing that he could use. "Huh. I'm, uh... comin' up short. It's fine. I'll think of somethin'. Dr. Light couldn't have built you perfect, right? Even though it sure seems like he di- wait, no. I wasn't supposed to say that-"

"Bass! Listen to me!"

"What?!" Bass threw his hands up. "What do you want from me now?!"

"Calm down! It's going to be fine! We don't have to do anything. I can leave. If it's going to be a problem, we can pretend like there's nothing-"

"Are you kiddin' me?! You started this problem - and now you want to act like you didn't?" Bass grinned. "I don't think so, Roll. Since I can't figure out how to stop how I feel about you, I'm goin' all in." He walked directly to her, making sure to get as close as possible without touching her. He bit back a laugh when he saw her turn pink again. "Park. Seven-thirty tonight. And you better not stand me up."

Roll smiled, and Bass thought he was going to fall out. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"Hey!" A familiar voice called out from nearby. "You two should kiss!"

Bass whipped his head around, and saw Waltz and Piano spying on him and Roll. Waltz slapped a hand over her mouth, but it was much too late for that. "You two! Don't either of you know how to scram?!" Bass started to chase after them, and Waltz screeched as he did so. Piano didn't say anything - she just focused on being faster than he was.

Roll laughed, and decided that now would be a good time to leave.

She had a date to get ready for, after all.

[sergeantsporks]

DVD Commentary!

"“Stop!”

Victoria ran through Phoenix. “Stop!” she repeated, skidding in-between Petro and Phoenix, “He’s not really a wild witch, I promise! It was just a game! It was just a game, please don’t hurt him! He doesn’t even have magic, he’s not a wild witch!”

“No,” Phoenix murmured, “No, no, this never… She never came back for me before, why would she come back for me?!”

Petro heaved a long, exasperated sigh. “Oh, great. Now there’s a witness. Hey, are you an orphan, too? Is anyone going to notice if you go missing?”

Victoria backed away, fear flashing in her eyes. “Leave us alone!”

She drew a wobbly circle, and a spur of rock shot up, ramming right between Petro’s legs. He doubled over with a howl, and Victoria dashed past him, grabbing Phoenix’s good arm and hauling him up to his feet. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” She wrapped one arm around his shoulders, hustling him away.

Run, Phoenix wanted to scream at his younger self, but this was before his coven training. This was before he got used to working through pain, used to sustaining broken bones and tearing wounds. And little Phoenix was white with pain, moving at a speedy hobble at best and wincing with every step.

Petro straightened up, and even without being able to see his face, Phoenix knew he was grimacing. “Oh, no, you don’t,” he snarled. He lunged forward, grabbing Victoria’s arm and yanking her away from Phoenix. “You’ll pay for that, brat.” He whipped his arm around, slamming Victoria into the alley wall. She squeaked, gasping for air, and Petro raised his knife again. “No witnesses.”

“No!”

Small Phoenix jumped up, grabbing Petro’s arm with his good hand. It didn’t even wrap all the way around Petro’s arm, but still, he pulled back with all of the might his scrawny little body could muster. “Don’t—hurt—her—”

Petro suddenly gave way to Phoenix’s pull, switching his grip and stabbing backwards. The knife sank into Phoenix’s face just above his eyelid, and Petro pulled up, flicking the blade through Phoenix’s eyebrow. Phoenix screamed and fell backwards, clutching his face.

Phoenix hissed in, touching the scar on his own face. That feeling of rot was spreading through his stomach again, moving up to his lungs and making each breath a herculean effort. His younger self curled up in a ball on the floor, blood leaking between his fingers.

“Are you stupid?” Petro snarled, “You could have run and saved yourself, but you gave it up for what, for her?!”

Little Phoenix let out a guttural moan, tears dripping from his good eye.

I was so small.

I’m smaller than Hunter was, even.

“She’d leave if I let her,” Petro snarled, “She only helped you because she thought she could get away with it. She’d abandon you if I told her she could go free. You could have done the same.”

“Please,” Victoria whispered, “You’re supposed to be the good guy. You’re supposed to protect us!”

“Yeah, well.” Petro bent down, putting his palms on her face. “Tough lesson. There’s only one person whose safety I value over my own. And it’s certainly not you.”

He twisted his hands, and Phoenix clutched Cherry’s arm again as the crack of Victoria’s neck snapping echoed in the alleyway. Cherry clutched his arm just as tightly, supporting him."

YAY, okay, so as you all know, Petro's plotline and character got invented VERY late in the game: it wasn't until the hiatus between King's Tide and TTT that I really started thinking about him and his role. Obviously this is seen the most in how I had to retcon the origin of Phoenix's eyebrow scar in order to give him a trait Petro would recognize him by. Because he was a statue, his role was to throw readers off the scent of Achsah's existence while still hinting at her tragedy: Phoenix believes Evelyn and Caleb are upset at the idea of "failing" another child when Venari gets injured because they've so far failed to save Petro, not because they've already "lost" a child of their own. He also served as a point of introduction for Sam, Lake, and Locke, and an example for Phoenix's distrust and paranoia at the beginning of the story.

So, he didn't really have a character or any significance at first. I knew he'd stop being stone at SOME point, but I didn't know when that time would be, and much less WHO he'd be when he did. Then, I made the switch. Petro was the guard before Phoenix, and being in stone rather than an already introduced character gave me the opportunity to make him any kind of figure in Phoenix's life. So I made the plan for him to have tried to kill Phoenix.

Out of background and into the scene here: I mostly wanted to show just how brutal Petro could be. How absolutely deadset he was on staying the golden guard, at any cost. How low he'd stoop. And, of course, how dangerous he could be, even without a magic staff. Obviously I couldn't have him actually kill Phoenix, so something else had to happen to show that brutality. Enter Victoria!

As well as Victoria being doomed from the start, I needed Phoenix to feel loss in the moment. He remembered he was from the orphanage, but he never had any desire to go back. Obviously, nobody cared enough about him that he wanted to check in on them, so Victoria needed to be someone who was occasionally nice to him but not enough that he would think to check in on her (when I go back and revise, she might show up in passing mention once or twice just so she's not such a sudden character). Phoenix feeling unloved is central to him not going back to the orphanage, so Victoria showing up had to be a surprise to him.

Onto the sense of loss: Victoria showed some kindness to Phoenix when they were kids, but not often. This moment came to show how she really felt: she may not have always been the best, but when the chips were down, she did try to save Phoenix. She cared enough to put her own life on the line to defend him. Phoenix felt like no one at the orphanage cared about him, so he was happy to become the golden guard. This moment is a double punch for him because not only is he witnessing just how brutal Petro can be, but he's realizing that someone did care for him at least a little bit, and if he hadn't "chosen" to become the golden guard... maybe he could have had some kind of life. 13 year old Phoenix would have been having a similar realization that someone did care about him... and then immediately watching that one person die in front of him. So it was a gut punch for both of them.

Finally: I also had this to show the world Phoenix grew up in and where the empire was at this point in time/the public perception of the empire at this time. Phoenix goes in thinking the golden guard is cool and wanting his autograph or whatever. Victoria has a similar thought process: she thinks the golden guard has made a mistake and thinks Phoenix is a wild witch, but that he'll recognize the mistake and leave them alone. The golden guard is supposed to protect them. He's supposed to be the good guy. These are kids who trusted the Empire's propaganda and trusted the golden guard, only to be let down in the worst way possible. They know the golden guard is a powerful, dangerous person, but they also believe he's there to protect them against wild magic. Even though Phoenix has heard stories of the golden guard at this point, he still believes that ultimately, the golden guard is good. Until now. It's also another point for Petro's brutality: these are kids. More importantly, they're kids who trusted him, who thought they could rely on him. But that's not the case, and Victoria dies for it.

[kayleydreams]

Chapter 8: Eggs-cluded Companionsss

Sir Pentious makes breakfast!

!

Chapter Text

Sir Pentious woke up in his nest of a bed surrounded by his beloved egg henchmen.

"Good mornin', my loveliesss," Sir Pentious hissed with a voice that slithered like a serpent. His sibilant tones filled the air, a blend of timidity and an attempt at grandeur. "Today'ss plan requireth precission, my dear egg boyz. Prepare yourselvesss for a day of resplendent engineering and, perchance, a touch of mayhem." Sir Pentious hissed softly to himself, his vibrant scales glinting in the morning light as he navigated the Hazbin Hotel's deserted halls. The absence of the usual bustling activity left an eerie quiet hanging in the air. As he slithered down the grand staircase, he couldn't help but notice the void left by the missing residents. "Ah, the hush of an empty nest," he mumbled in his distinct hissing voice. "It seemss my compatriots have embarked on endeavors of their own." Making his way to the kitchen, Sir Pentious decided to channel his loneliness into a grand culinary experiment. Pots and pans clanged together as he concocted an elaborate breakfast, hissing out commentary to his egg boiz. "Today, we prepare a feast fit for serpent royalty! A culinary masterpiece to rival the most decadent of delights!" His agile tail expertly maneuvered ingredients, adding a dash of theatrics to the cooking process. Sir Pentious surveyed the kitchen. The egg boiz, his loyal henchmen, eagerly awaited his command, their large eyes fixed on their serpentine leader. A peculiar moment of hesitation struck Sir Pentious as he glanced towards the fridge, where a carton of eggs rested. For a brief moment, his eyes lingered on the oval-shaped objects, and a subtle conflict played out in his expressive gaze. After a thoughtful pause, Sir Pentious decided to forgo the use of the eggs. "Today, my dear egg boiz, we shall craft a feast that celebrates life without the use of our namesakes," he declared with a theatrical sweep of his tail, gesturing towards an assortment of non-egg-related ingredients. The egg boiz, though slightly bewildered, bumbled their approval, ready to assist in any culinary endeavor their eccentric leader embarked upon. The kitchen soon echoed with the clatter of utensils and the aromatic symphony of Sir Pentious's culinary exploits. Sir Pentious made Serpentine Sourdough Toast, Artisanal sourdough bread slices toasted to a perfect crunch, shaped like sinuous serpents. Served with honey. Slithering Smoothie Bowl with real moving fruit! And Cobra Coil Cinnamon Rolls, Soft and fluffy cinnamon rolls coiled into the shape of cobra snakes, drizzled with icing. However, as the aromatic symphony of his culinary creation wafted through the hotel, the absence of the usual banter and laughter became even more pronounced. Sir Pentious couldn't shake the feeling of solitude that lingered like a specter in the once lively hotel. His eyes caught the vacant seats that once held the familiar faces of Angel Dust, Husk, and the others. With a dramatic sigh, he decided to embrace the solitude, opting to dine alone. The table, usually bustling with life, now bore only the elaborate breakfast he had prepared for his absent companions. "Alone, yet surrounded by the remnants of camaraderie," he mused, his hissing voice echoing softly in the empty room. As he indulged in his culinary creation, Sir Pentious contemplated.

A sudden burst of activity entered the dining hall as Niffty, the embodiment of chaos, darted about in pursuit of a roach. The elusive insect danced just out of reach but with a swift and masterful strike, Niffty finally cornered her tiny adversary, impaling it skillfully with a sewing needle that seemed comically large in her small hand. A triumphant grin adorned her face as she addressed the deceased bug, reveling in her victory.

"HAHAHA, got you! You thought you could escape me," she declared with glee, her voice resonating with the delight of a successful hunt. She expertly stowed the conquered bug into her pocket. Sir Pentious, noticing the sudden burst of activity, turned his serpentine gaze toward the energetic Niffty. "Ahh, Niffty, how delightful to see someone, anyone," he hissed, his long tail flicking in a gesture of animated welcome. Niffty, her eyes gleaming with mischievous energy, twirled around and noticed Sir Pentious in all his snakelike glory. She grinned, her needle held aloft like a triumphant trophy.

"Heya! What's cooking? Or rather, what's hissing?" Niffty's high-pitched voice echoed through the hall as she approached, her chaotic aura leaving a trail of whirlwind behind her.

"I've made sssome food! Pleasse help yourself." As Niffty happily accepted the invitation, Sir Pentious gestured with a flourish of his tail towards the elaborate breakfast spread. The once lonely dining area now buzzed with a unique blend of chaos and serpentine sophistication. The duo, an unlikely pair of demons, settled into the vibrant morning routine that Sir Pentious had longed for. The clinking of cutlery and the occasional hiss of approval created a more lively atmosphere than the egg boiz could have given Pentious alone. A glowing portal opened in the main lounge the yellow ring that looked as if it was on fire showed the glimpses of the angelic presence beyond. The ethereal gateway pulled Charlie and Vaggie into the hotel feet first, depositing them flat on the floor. Charlie in a moment of anger hit the floor with her hand. "SHIT!" she exclaimed, the echo of her vexation resonating through the room. Vaggie, quick to recover, rose to her feet and extended a helping hand to Charlie. However brushed off the offer, choosing to stand on her own. The air crackled with tension. "Welcome back I made breakfasst if you would like ssome?" Sir Pentious says hesitantly.

[valorandgold]

[I'm gonna be blunt with you guys, at least those of you that are actually paying attention, I'm seriously considering giving this blog up. 90% of my mutuals aren't active anymore or don't wanna interact, though it's mostly the former, and those who do mainly just want to do smut on my sideblog, and I don't want to be restricted to only smut. I just kinda feel like I'm spinning my wheels despite trying to revive this blog recently.]

[adultswim2021]

Tim And Eric Awesome Show, Great Job! #26: “Jim and Derrick” | September 1, 2008 - 12:30AM | S03E06

One of the all-time greatest. It’s somewhat of an in-joke; in that a literal first-time viewer might not pick up exactly on what’s going on (you’d hope the more observant would at least be able to infer it’s satiric nature). This episode of Awesome Show presents, without fanfare or even any preamble, an alternate-universe version of Tim and Eric named Jim and Derrick. Jim and Derrick are basically the versions of Tim & Eric whose post-internet career paths had them so desperate to get on television that they became willing to bend to every network note ever given to them. It's as if Tim & Eric’s artistic vision was easily compromised by MTV money.

What we get is a frenetic nightmare of rapid-cutting, sweaty, shallow signifiers of easily digestible coolness, fad-chasing, and lowest-common denominator humor that sells itself with attitude rather than anything inspired. Jim Heckler and Derek Whipple host the show from an MTV-style faux-industrial studio with a DJ and a corporate sponsor in Turbo Fuel. Turbo Fuel is an energy drink that is immediately shown to have negative effects even in the cold open spot (a man vomits with ‘tude towards the camera, and we see blood trickling out of his nose post-chug).

Jim & Derrick are coarse and lazy; so much so that they come off as heroin addicts or something like that. They speak in all manner of embarrassing/trendy vernacular. It screams early 2000s in a way that their show usually doesn’t. They do segments about buying bongs (with Tim’s quotable line “plus, I like frogs”), skateboarding, tattoos, and they frequently cut away to other things that have little to do with scripted sketch comedy.

The only thing that actually qualifies as an in-universe bonafide comedy sketch in the whole thing is cheap and dashed-off, and co-stars a guy who just screams “dude on the writing staff”.* The “sketch”, ends with Jim saying “that’s wack”, then a back-patty musical interlude with a bunch of comedy-related buzz-words rolls out (including Tim & Eric’s favorite: “RANDOM”). They both declare “You’ve been sketched!” into the camera. The entire sketch is encased in a metal border. It gives the impression that the Jim & Derrick Show was at one time way more focused on scripted comedy, but then that aspect shrunk so much that sketches became once per episode, and they eventually started shrinking the screen to diminish the sketches even further. It's a physical manifestation of the comedy being "contained."

*”dude on the writing staff”: It’s LA comedy stalwart Joe Wagner, who did indeed hold similar jobs on a lot of shows, some good, even! I remember he posted on a message board I was on and he hosted a podcast that I remembered being good, even though I don’t remember the name of it. 

Other touches include an announcer who is the same guy from the then-current Carl’s Jr. ads, which were very bro-ey and usually featured Playboy models eating large drippy hamburgers. There’s also transitions that look like they came directly from VH1’s I Love the 90s, featuring internetty imagery like folder icons and whatnot. There’s also frenetic cutaways to a “creepy” old man who makes googly faces at the camera with fake old-timey film effects covering it, to telegraph nasty jokes like when Derrick says he wishes Elisha Cuthbert was his daughter in a gross, suggestive way. 

She’s in this, by the way. Jim and Derrick interview her and it does not go particularly well, with Jim and Derrick rudely cutting her off when she’s about to actually get to say anything of substance. She rolls her eyes and says “great” seeming genuinely annoyed. This is an incredible bit of acting, because a significant number of people believed that her annoyance was genuine, and that the wool was pulled over her eyes. I vaguely recall (but unfortunately don’t have) a video commentary for this episode that aired on Adult Swim’s website. They assured the audience that she was in on the joke, and indeed, if you seek out the blooper reel for this season you’ll see the first time Tim cuts her off in the same manner, she bursts out laughing. 

Speaking of guest stars, John Mayer is in this episode during the fake commercial. I remember Tim & Eric discussing this almost as if they put him in here via process of elimination. Mayer wanted to be on the show and they had a little trouble finding a place for him. He also filmed a “you’re watching Jim and Derrick” bumper that didn’t wind up getting used. 

The commercial is for a GF Spooner, which is basically like a baby bjorn that you strap your girlfriend into. It comes with fake arms that she can cuddle with, keeping your arms free. It’s purpose is to wear at concerts so you can double-fist Turbo Fuels, and hold hands with your male friends. The woman in the commercial was vaguely familiar to me: She plays one of Howard’s girlfriends in the criminally underrated program Austin Stories. I remember Tim trying to make Doug Lussenhop squirm during the video commentary, suggesting that he tried and failed to hit on her during production. When Doug doesn’t take the bait, an exasperated Tim suggests that he’s just looking for ANYTHING to talk about that’s even a little bit interesting. AGAIN: I wish I had it!

Another segment of note is Bradley Needlehead, in the Viral Clip of the week. This is an alternate version of David Liebe-Hart, singing a song about being a crazy guy that believes in aliens. It seems to satirize the lack of respect an MTV-style network would have for a guy like DLH. Though Tim & Eric’s “respect” for DLH is a little questionable, I do agree that they are kinder to him than most would be. In that video commentary, they said DLH directed that segment himself, dashing any expectations of him being blindsided by it. To be a fly on the wall during that session. There’s no footage of this shoot on the DVD. 

Holly Brown makes another appearance on the show; her bit is sorta slight, and I’d wager that it was a gift they were giving her so she could put it on a reel to try and get on-camera announcer work. Her presence fits with the whole vibe; many of these shows will have hot women as correspondents or hosts. The main comedic takeaway from this one is the concept of Tordos Flavor Dust, which has little to do with the actual scene.

The show ends with Jim & Derrick doing a Turbo Boost chug contest, where a hot, but uh, artificial-looking woman, smiles and sprays a keg tap of Turbo Boost into both Jim & Derrick’s mouths. We eventually see blood coming out of their eyes and ears, and they succumb to the toxic beverage and collapse dead on the floor. The woman never stops smiling and spraying Turbo Boost. DJ Drez doesn't stop the beats, either. Then we get a slideshow of fake production logos, including, most memorably, Gregg Turkington saying “Egg Zackly” as a parody of their own “Abso-Lutely” 

This one’s not just in the pantheon of great episodes, but it also joins the ranks of episodes that I’ve watched over-and-over again, so much so that they sorta lost most of their power, so I have to go off memories of how good it was. I recall telling somebody that I laughed so hard at this episode that it caused me to punch stuff that I own while watching it. It’s only with that kind of hindsight that I can recognize that some of the sketches are a little more potent in their satire than others. But the whole thing works incredibly well, and even the weakest bits have inspired jokes and ideas.

A welcome respite from an otherwise lackluster season. Say what you want about season three, but one will forever be able to point to this episode and say "at least that season had Jim and Derrick".

EPHEMERA CORNER:

Jim and Derrick at Spring Break

I forget exactly when and why these were produced, but Tim & Eric did additional Jim & Derrick "spring break" sketches. It would make more sense for them to have been produced for Spring Break 2009, but I'm putting them here for relevance. I don't think they repeated Jim & Derrick on Awesome Show itself.

[mayhemproduces]

The Heist is quickly approaching, and though these teams will soon splinter off and fight each other for the chance to win a shot at the biggest prize in the company... tonight, there's some unity presented in the leagues. On one side, some of MPW's biggest stars. All three, former champions wherever they go, whether AEW or MPW itself. On the other, young guns aiming for the top of MPW themselves, all united at the moment in one thing.

Glaring daggers into the man that's joined the commentary desk for this match, one Maxwell Jacob Friedman. The world champion, smug bastard as he is, has settled in to watch the match and get a feel for some of the most enticing faces in the race to the Getaway. And as the bell rings, he's quick to start commentating on the action as it starts.

And, as the match begins, Phantom enters the ring first on her side, gaze briefly shifting from the opposing side, to the man holding the prize. For just a touch of a moment, their eyes meet. Silence, before Maxwell is the first to blink, looking away seemingly to talk to his "cohorts" on the bench with him. Meanwhile, Will Ospreay steps out to represent the other league, circling Phantom as the bell rings.

Though, interestingly... Phantom seems a little less stressed than she did at the match's onset? Sure, she's still tense as a rope ready to snap, but she doesn't look a moment away from either a rage attack or killing herself on camera, so. It's a start?

But before long, the two quickly lock up, hardly a moment testing strength before the two are trading holds back and forth. Ospreay circles to the back, Phantom grabs his arm and wrenches it back, he drops into a roll to right himself, she takes him down and works him into a headlock, dropping low to the floor to limit his movement. The two struggle there for a few moments, both trying to find better leverage without leaving an opening to exploit, but Ospreay manages to find something first, rolling over and pinning Phantom's shoulders to the mat!

One, two- no, Phantom slides him back, now pinning HIS shoulders!

One- nope, Ospreay rolls his shoulders, kicking Phantom away and leaving her to sit up, shaking her head briefly.

Wait, this is- Ospreay sees a chance, and dashes forward to nail her in the back of the head with the Hidden Blade, but before he can land it... she just whips around, staring him down as she catches his arm before it reaches her. Wow, most don't manage to counter the Hidden Blade that easy! And she's sure to use this chance well, grabbing his other wrist and sliding her own hold down to swing her knee right into his skull!

But before she can land it, he uses the force of her grip to slide under Phantom, popping up out the other side! Phantom turns to meet him, and the two both clobber each other with forearms at once! A bit stunned from the impact on both sides, they both fall to the mat. What a sequence, both are certainly making a case for themselves in the upcoming Heist already!

There's a few moments where the two simply try to get their bearings, Ospreay getting up first and Phantom managing to start on her way up after. The former is about ready to tag out, and he moves to his corner to (reluctantly) tag in Swerve for the match, but... as Will reaches out to tag him in, Swerve steps away from his hand? For a second, he just turns to the man confusedly, but he can't say anything before a sudden kick to the back of his knee sends him to the floor with a cry of pain, when Phantom grabs him by the hair and throws him back to the center of the ring.

For just a moment, Phantom and Swerve lock eyes for the first time since the aftermath of their match at State of Emergency. It isn't much, but... Swerve looks away, after a moment.

There's almost a smug air to Phantom as she turns to her quarry, cracking her knuckles against her legs as she passes by him. It's... interesting, such a lone wolf being able to simply walk back to her corner and hold her hand out, Dyln reaching back to make the tag. Almost immediately, Phantom crouches a bit, bending over and bracing... as Dyln jumps up to the top rope, then stepping off Phantom's back to deliver a sharp dropkick to Ospreay!

With that, Dyln starts his offense off right with a Cyclone Kick as Ospreay struggles to get up, and then another superkick following that up! Being the fresher man in the matchup, he's already got quite the advantage as he keeps up the pressure, and it seems that confidence is enough to have him rushing up for an attempt at a cutter, ready to drive Ospreay's head into the mat... but he has other plans!

As Dyln drags him down, Ospreay leans into it, using his palms to catch himself and leap away in a perfect handspring, followed by a superkick of his own as Dyln scrambles back up! Though it's not quite perfectly aimed, it's enough to knock Dyln away and give time for Ospreay to move in for a stundog millionaire! Dyln's down! Finally, Ospreay is able to quickly run to his corner, this time outright ignoring Swerve and instead tagging in Lacey Karmens!

Lacey, on their part, is much more eager to get into the match, as they immediately run in to throw down with Dyln! Trading blows back and forth, both trying to get one up on their opponent, before Lacey manages a quick kick to Dyln's torso and stun him for a moment. Perfect. They line it up, backing away a step before rotating into a discus lariat!! Before he can even get all the way upright again, Dyln is blown off his feet!! He's left on the ground, not quite out but reeling from the impact as Lacey moves to the corner. They're quick to make the climb, turning around and scoping out their target...

And they make the leap, with a splash crushing Dyln! Lacey tugs his leg up, pinning him!

One, two, t- kickout!! Dyln managed to get his shoulder up just in time! Lacey sits up, looking to the referee with a huff. That's on them, should have put more spin on it. Oh well. They get back up, as Dyln rolls back to his stomach to try to push himself up in turn... no dice, though, as Lacey ends that dream with a stomp to his back! And another, and another, and so on. Really laying into him now, they spare no expense to do damage, even as his tag partners (...well, mostly Riley) try to hype him up, both reaching over the top rope to try to get in for themselves to even it all out!

But no dice, Dyln's really getting bullied here... at least, until he manages a hail mary of his own! He manages to loop an arm around Lacey's leg, using their firmer stature to pull himself up and elbow them in the stomach! It's a perfect way to get them into position, and he traps their head against him to execute a picture-perfect DDT! But as they both hit the mat, it seems that was something of a last gasp, as now neither are moving!

As Phantom moves off the apron to the floor, to pound on the mat with a fist, imploring Dyln to get the hell up... the referee starts the count. For a few moments, both seem to be just... out. But Lacey stirs first, crawling their way up a bit to find their footing. Dyln follows in short order, making sure to crawl away a bit to give himself some space. It seems his opponent isn't so keen on giving him that space, as she immediately lunges at him the moment they have stable footing...

...only to fall once again, as Dyln suddenly trips her up with a drop toe hold! It's all the time he needs to finally manage to jump up, finally making the hot tag to the waiting Riley Ishimori! As the crowd cheers, Riley is quick to make her impact felt, nearly taking Lacey's head off with a bicycle kick! But she doesn't stop moving, her momentum carrying her to bounce off the ropes and slip down to smash Lacey's face down with a shining wizard from behind!

But as she slides in to lock in a crossface, Lacey isn't about to make it easy! No, they manage to twist in Riley's grip before it can get all the way locked down, smacking Riley's face into the mat and nearly breaking her nose as they quickly get up, staggering back to tag in Swerve!

And Swerve is already planning to make light work of Riley, as he turns to look at the crowd.

*"WHOSE HOUSE?!"* he calls, smirking at the response.

"SWERVE'S HOUSE!" replies the crowd, and Swerve leaps forward with a House Call straight to Riley's skull! She goes down hard, face down on the ground, as the Mogul simply shrugs and goes in for the cover!

One! Two! Th- another kickout!! Riley immediately sits up, growling under her breath as she kicks Swerve away from her, grabbing the nearby rope to pull herself to her feet, clearly pissed off that her initial plan didn't pan out at all. She could have had that in the bag! But now she's got Swerve to deal with, and he's got plenty left in the tank. The two meet in a lockup, one that Riley quickly turns into kneeing him in the stomach, followed by an elbow from Swerve, and the two are trading blows as the crowd goes wild!

Still, with two competitors like these, all it would take is one minor misstep to cost them, and it seems that's the case as Swerve barely misses a punch, giving Riley the space to slide to his side, grabbing him and lifting him up, and they crash down for a *Moment of Silence* into the damn turnbuckle! This could be it! Riley scrambles to pin him, and the ref runs over to make the count!

...But before he can, Lacey steps a foot into the ring, seemingly about to make the save! The ref is quick to move over to chastise her, forcing her back out.

But the crowd, they make the count too.

ONE! TWO! THREE! ...FOUR! FIVE!

Riley had him there! Lacey saved the match, seemingly entirely on accident! But even as Riley rises to her feet, it seems her luck hasn't gotten any better... as she's met with the World Title directly to the face?! No way, Max moved off commentary to smash her in the head with his title belt!! Both members of Riley's team immediately yell out in protest, Dyln barely holding back from entering the ring herself, but the damage is done. Even Ospreay is turning to Maxwell incredulously, yelling something at him as Max simply smirks smugly, returning to the commentary desk to leave the rest of the fight to Swerve.

And Swerve, though still a bit delirious from getting smashed into the turnbuckle, is more than up for the task. As Riley laid there on the ground unmoving, he clawed his way up the corner to stare down at her before taking flight!

Swerve Stomp! It's over! The ref comes down to make the count, even as Phantom tears past the ropes to try to make the save!

ONE! TWO! THREE!!!

The bell rings, and the crowd explodes into raining down boos on the victorious Blue League! Swerve simply grins as he stands up, moving to exit the ring again... but is met by Will Ospreay getting in his face!

*"Hey, what the HELL, bruv?! Did you have that set up from the start?!"*

With that, Will shoves him, leading to Swerve marching right back up to stare him down. Moments pass in tense silence between the two, the tension thick enough to be cut with a knife... are they about to come to blows?! A beat, another... and Swerve just moves right past him, pushing him out of the way with a shoulder as he laughs to himself, leaving the ring alone as Lacey takes in the crowd.

As for the other members of the Emerald League, both are absolutely furious at being cheated out of yet another win, but one seems to be taking it much worse. Phantom, fists clenched until they're white, is already jumping off the apron to storm around the ring, seemingly about to give the world champ a piece of her mind! Speaking of blows, is Phantom about to lay into MJF?!

*"YOU GODDAMN SON OF A BITCH!"* she yells, picking up speed as Max comes into view... only to have her own momentum suddenly halted as Dyln holds her back, getting in front of her and ushering her back a few steps.

"CASS! Cass, no, not right now! He's not-"

The rest of what he's saying is drowned out by the crowd as he quiets down, grabbing Phantom by the shoulders to calm her down. She's still burning with rage, it seems, but... she does step back, breath heaving and unsteady through her anger.

But even with all of this, all sorts of carnage through the ring in the fallout of it all, it seems that the ride isn't over just yet!

[statementvsbackgroundproject]

Artists statement by Zanele Muholi

(The correlation that this statement has with my personal project isnt incredibly strong, since my take will not involve commentary on race.. but I enjoyed an explanation from this perspective)

2012 - 2020 Zanele Muholi Somnyama Ngonyama

With the series Somnyama Ngonyama, I have decided to turn the camera on myself. In contrast to my life-long project of documenting members of my black LGBTI community in South Africa and beyond, one in which I normally have the privilege of witnessing participants’ presentation of themselves according to their own self-image, with this new work I have created portraits in which I am both participant and image-maker. Somnyama Ngonyama (meaning ‘Hail, the Dark Lioness’) is an unflinchingly personal approach I have taken as a visual activist to confronting the politics of race and pigment in the photographic archive. It is a statement of self-presentation through portraiture. The entire series also relates to the concept of MaID (‘My Identity’) or, read differently, ‘maid’, the quotidian and demeaning name given to all subservient black women in South Africa. Experimenting with different characters and archetypes, I have portrayed myself in highly stylised fashion using the performative and expressive language of theatre. The black face and its details become the focal point, forcing the viewer to question their desire to gaze at images of my black figure. The visual variety depicted in the series references the histories of black and white fashion photography and of black and white portraiture. Each and every photo captured in this series is a commentary on a specific event in South Africa’s political history, from the advent of the mining industry, to the fame or infamy of the ‘Black Madonna’, to the recent massacre of miners at Marikana; from family to society and back again. By exaggerating the darkness of my skin tone, I’m reclaiming my blackness, which I feel is continuously performed by the privileged other. My reality is that I do not mimic being black; it is my skin, and the experience of being black is deeply entrenched in me. Just like our ancestors, we live as black people 365 days a year, and we should speak without fear. As Audre Lorde so eloquently put it in her poem, ‘A Litany for Survival’:

and when we speak we are afraid our words will not be heard nor welcomed but when we are silent we are still afraid So it is better to speak remembering we were never meant to survive — Audre Lorde, The Black Unicorn: Poems

One of the realities that I face as a South African visual activist is being forced to make a living outside this country. For a project to be well executed I have to live on the road where most of the work in this series was produced – dashing from New York to Florence to Nottingham, then to Oslo and Liverpool, back home for a week in Johannesburg, and then off to Ann Arbor, Detroit and New York – as was the case over the past three months. This shuttling around sometimes make me feel disoriented, disconnected and almost homeless. The culturally dominant images of black women start to infiltrate my soul and function as a constant reminder that such images still inform how black women are perceived here and now. One way that I deal with this exoticised self/other is to exorcise those images through my photography. These self-portraits have been captured in different continents: America, Africa and Europe; in the cities of Amsterdam, Charlottesville, Oslo, Umbria, Syracuse, New York, Malmo, Gothenburg, Johannesburg, Paris, Durban, London, Mayotte, Florence and Gaborone. My aim is to mark memories and connections I made with those places and through my interactions with people there. I created materials and used found objects that expressed my moods. All the materials utilised in the portraits have their own primary functions. I focused on senses such as hands touching and eyes penetrating (unsettling eye contact) while producing the work. In Somnyama Ngonyama, I have embarked on a discomforting self-defining journey, rethinking the culture of the selfie, self-representation and self-expression. I have investigated how photographers can question and deal with the body as material or mix it with objects to further aestheticise black personhood. My abiding concern is, can photographers look at themselves and question who they are in society and the position/s that they hold, and maintain these roles thereafter?

[arcticborn]

tag dump ii

[primxryfunction]

tag dump !!