#Ariel needs legs ref | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dongiovannaswife · 3 years ago

Text

shots.

“I will not become a figure of my mistakes.”

aftermath of Jet Black Heart, Phantom Heart — first steps on fixing things up with Rohan, even if that means pain. Future plans and new projects ahead.

cw: heavy mental health topics, mentions to past abuse, abandonment issues, childhood trauma, alcohol mention, mentions of death (Narancia and the others), anger as a mechanism of defense. Proceed with caution.

title ref: shots by imagine dragons.

The garden at the center of the many buildings of the Giovanna residence inspires a natural and refreshing paradise. The water fountain at the center serves as the only source of sound as the water keeps flowing and crashing, running down and up again in a cycle.

As he sits on the grass, pajamas only and a glass of tequila suspended between his fingers, his eyes have been hypnotized by the stars in the sky, the dark blue tones of their canvas and the occasional wind that blows and messes with his hair.

‘I messed up.’

But the realization does not come free. Oh no, it comes after minutes of wandering eyes that drift between the sky, then the water fountain and the roses around the area.

There's a chilling sensation that crawls from his back up his neck and spreads to his shoulders —and it's not the cold wind acting up.

Kishibe's words resound in the back of his mind, followed by Ariel's.

And then Lena's reassuring, calm words. The ones she whispered that evening when they came back from the bar and she helped him calm down.

‘Your feelings are valid, but that doesn't make them facts.’

It was her way to say he had messed up, a way to give him something to think about. A guided recovery.

‘I messed up.’

There it is again, the confirmation of his failure. The creeping guilt that oppresses his chest and makes it sting. Along comes the feeling of the hairs in his arms standing up as goosebumps raise.

A light, warm fabric falls around his naked shoulders, enveloping him along a pair of small arms that wrap themselves around his shoulders and a small, sneaky hand that manages to take the glass from him surprisingly gently, taking it away from his line of view.

Her arms circle his shoulders, letting him see the empty glass —but feel her soothing warmth and perfume: sunlight and vanilla mixed, comforting.

“Feeling blue?”

A sigh escapes inevitably and he's forced to lean into her. Searching for her hand, her grasp helps with his aching heart. “I… just needed a drink.”

Helena hums, pressing her lips against his cheek, where she stays and whispers, teasingly, as if trying to coax him to talk it all out: “Didn't you say you'd never drink when the boys were home?”

“If that was the case, right now, they wouldn't recognize me. Besides, I'm… Just thinking.”

Her arms let go slowly, leaving back traces of her warmth and lingering touches of her scent just to show up by his side —hair down, not an ounce of makeup and wearing her pajamas. When she cups his face and smiles so sweetly and reassuring, the air inside his lungs dissipates for a fraction of a second.

“You don't have to fight alone. Whatever you're going on, it has a solution.”

By now he's sucking in a breath and she's still there, kneeling before him. Like an angel waiting to guide a sinner back into the right path.

But she's home, she's his guidance in times of turmoil and his safe space; his confident, best friend and wife. She's everything he never knew he needed and the person he can't get enough of.

And he's so confused and hurt he cannot do anything else but guide her to sit between his legs, can't do anything but gently scoop her hair aside so she doesn't pull at it when her back rests against his chest and she's leaning back against his shoulder just to look up at him through soft, loving hickory brown eyes that darken under the night sky. Can't think straight, just try to give her a part of the blanket around his shoulders just for her hands to take both of his and keep them atop her knees.

And then it hits him deeper —she's the sunlight he probably doesn't deserve.

And so he confesses, more like a broken statement; ”I'm an impulsive, pretentious, stubborn and ignorant idiot.”

The way her brow furrows so quickly is almost comical, “Hey, that's— what makes you think that?”

Scoffing, his eyes close involuntary as he shakes his head, letting his thoughts and feelings out. “How did I make you love me? How can you love someone like me? Why would you spend your time and efforts on me, trying to help and listen, when all I've done is hurt everyone I've met? The names on that fountain… those three died when I took over Diavolo's organization. I led them to their end and managed to survive and live, pretending to be untouchable and strong. I met you three years after that and you just… Accepted me like this, married me and made me a father,” shaking his head again, this time desperately, his eyes snap open, letting her see the tears pooling at his eyelashes, “How am I supposed to think I'm a good man, if I keep hurting everyone?”

Lena's lips seal tight into a straight line as her eyes focus forward, possibly into the fountain, seeming to pick up her words carefully.

Her lip twitches, arching up into a small, meaningful smile —even if she's still staring into the distance, the way her voice flows out so low and sweet soothes the pain in his chest, releasing the tension pulling at the fibers of every muscle in his body as he listens to her.

“Earlier today, Dante and Jovi were watching a movie and there was a quote you should hear; you cannot see your reflection in boiling water. Similarly, you cannot see the truth in a state of anger. When the water calms, clarity comes.” she turns to him, still all soft eyes and sweet smiles. “Can I ask something?”

Blinking in confusion, Giorno nods, silent and curious.

“What have you learned from this?”

He chuckles, shaking his head softly. Looking forward, there's a moment of silence as he looks up just when a shooting star crosses through the sky.

“Aside from messing up? I think… I need to work on my trust issues —understand not everyone around me is waiting to betray or hurt me. I need to listen more instead of reading people and suppose their thoughts and ideas. I need… To apologize: admit my mistakes, and actually learn from them.”

Helena nods just as her hand shoots up and cups his face, rubbing the pad of her thumb across his cheekbone, where some of his stubble tickles her. “And… We need to work on that anger. When you get mad—” her eyes drift spontaneously, falling into the roses around the area. “—The thought of you hurting people you love just because you're angry at them… It terrifies me. We need to find a way out of all that bottled up rage before you hurt someone.”

Giorno stays silent now, going through her words again and again until he's sure of his reply, “To be honest I think my anger comes from fear; I don't feel angry all the time, nor do I keep it locked. I think it's my way to protect myself. But… But you're right, I need to learn how to trust others.”

By the time he finishes she shifts, turning around and kneeling before him, “Gio.” one of her hands cups his face, stroking his cheek with her thumb. “I know how it feels —trust issues suck, they mess with you and your relationships. And I know it probably comes from your childhood—” her lip trembles as she looks aside, blinking back tears and opting instead for looking back again. Her cheeks have picked on a soft blush and her eyes shine with silent resolve: a mix of pain, love and anger that leaves him speechless, waiting for the end to come.

“I know it’s hard to believe people out there will love you and care for you, how could you trust others, when you were supposed to learn that from your mother —but when all she did was leave you behind, change you for some fun, how could you expect something from the world, if she didn't even try to care for your basic needs as a baby?” she chuckles, looking down: and right there, a single tear rolls down her cheek, silent but hurtful.

She's the sunlight —and his sunlight is trembling right before him, about to disappear under the eclipse of her emotions.

“I know Haruno is still here, waiting to heal. I know you’re not Haruno anymore, but you were Haruno: and he needs you, Giorno. He needs your protection and care just like the twins do. Haruno needs to heal so you can heal.”

And then she looks up, bloodshot eyes but a soft, loving smile that ends up betrayed by the venom laced in her words. “How dare she treat you like garbage and still call herself your mother, right? You must think everyone is after you for your money and power,” the venom in her voice disappears as her last words leave her lips, almost like she didn’t just mention Sadashi Shiobana as the worst mother ever: the rest of her facade crumbles down, letting him see her sadness and her need to help him.

There’s her trembling hands still cupping his face as he continues unable to move or utter a single word: only capable of watching and hearing. His eyes can’t stop roaming through her face as another tear rolls down and she shifts, wiping it off with her right hand: he watches her wipe her hand on her shorts and shift uncomfortably when the grass under her knees scratches at her sensitive skin —there’s the smallest of indicator of her skin starting to get irritated with the grass, but she settles down again, cupping his face back again just to make him look back into her eyes.

He feels small —like he hasn't done in years. There’s no physical way for him to feel small with his height. But there it is, still, and he hates it. A strangled chuckles makes its way through his airway. “How?”

Helena shakes her head, sighing and blinking slowly. “Journaling as your inner child —acknowledge he exists and needs your attention. The twins can help with the playing part so you can connect with him: I can assure you it’s one of the best ways to heal. Only if you want, of course, I could always set you up with one of the therapists from the Fondazione.”

He looks on, staring into her eyes, almost like he can see her soul through them. “Would that… Would that help with the anger and trust issues, Lena? Do you think I can change, be a better man?”

She shakes her head, adding in a gentle tone. “I can't lie and say it will solve all your problems, Giogio. But everything has to start in order to end. I'll be there with you, and if you ever decide to, we can set you up with a therapist. Right now, I need you to listen carefully: accept these words and feel them, okay? I know you trust me with your soul, but I don’t want you to doubt our relationship again.” her thumb grazes over his cheekbone, carefully tracing his skin and leaving back traces of her warmth as her fingerprint crosses through his skin. The way her eyes stare back into him is a clear signal that she’s looking at him just like he did seconds ago; trying to get to his soul through words, trying to soothe his pain. “—I love you. Not just the stern, dangerous and calm Don, I love you for who you truly are: your likes and dislikes, your experiences, your jokes, your thoughts, imperfections and talents. I love you; you deserve me. You deserve this love just like you deserve rest and peace. You are a good man and just because you made a mistake does not make you unlovable: that only makes you human.�� Her hand leaves his face, and next, her palm presses right above the place where his heart rests on his chest —under one of the owl’s wings, hidden behind the perfect details of the tattoo. “Pain makes us human, Giorno. But that does not mean we should live in constant pain to be reminded of our nature.”

“Lena,” he mumbles, blinking slowly —lip trembling, but voice dull. “I know I’m human, but I’ve hurt people. I’ve hurt you when I promised not to, can’t you see it? I’m only gonna do you wrong.”

Lena sits back, letting go of his face and instead resting her palms on her lap. For a second they sit there in silence, only the sounds of the leaves brushing and moving as the wind blows in the middle of the night and at the center of the garden in their home with Fugo and Mista probably watching over their surroundings.

“Gio,” she whispers after a second, “You’ve told me that story so many times before —that evening outside of the San Giorgio Maggiore church, in the boat. You’ve said it before, and so has Fugo —Bruno never asked you or the others to join him. He was the first person to leave the organization. The others followed; they knew. After all, every time you’re off to kill someone, you should suppose you could end dead, am I right? Was anyone dragged into that mission?”

“Helena, you do—”

“Answer,” she interrupts him, gently and sweetly, even. “Did he say you had to follow him? Did he give orders to follow his path and protect Trish?”

Giorno looks down and on the side, eyes falling on the grass beside her knee —the reddish tone of her irritated skin makes him react and as he takes off the blanket she had put around his shoulders, his words come out slurred and low as he stays there, kneeling before her.

“Bruno said he couldn’t ask us to follow him,” moving forward, he lays the blanket in the grass, extending an arm out to help her sit on it, “I followed him, but my reason to do it wasn’t only Trish’s safety, it was my dream. I saw them get in the boat one by one until Fugo and Narancia were standing there. Next thing I knew, Narancia was swimming and trying to get us to listen to him. In the end, we all decided our future. We —they knew. They had been in the business for long enough to know someone wouldn't survive.'' He looks back at her now, blinking in confusion —silently wondering if his suppositions are right: awaiting for her words.

Her hand comes up to his forearm, resting there for a few seconds before trailing up his bicep and shoulder, there, her fingertips apply some pressure, coaxing him to sit before her.

As he does, the wind blows again and silence takes over; it’s cold and the night turns into a dark blue, replacing the dark tones of the sky above them.

“No one is to blame, Giorno. In the end, from what you, Fugo and Polnareff have said, Diavolo was always one step ahead: Polnareff has said so many times how you tried to save Narancia, you’ve told me how you made Bruno live even if that was contradictory; you meant no harm, Fugo has said how you covered Leone in flowers. You did everything you could to survive, just like a team does.”

She stays silent then, waiting until he nods, solemnly. As if seeming to accept her words.

“By the way, all you’ve done for me is help me heal.” Kneeling, she crawls up to him before she’s kneeling by him again, taking his large hands between her significantly smaller ones, clasping them together. “It’s true we’ve had our discussions and we’ve cried after some arguments, but it’s always been a product of misunderstandings, isn’t it? ever since I met you, all you’ve done is help me out: first my ex, then my insecurities, my trust issues, my abandonment issues. You’ve been there through every battle, you’ve supported and guided me when I couldn’t see past my own misery.”

He looks up into her face, noticing her smile and the dimple that stands out with it; the way her eyes light up. “So no, Giorno, you’re not hurting me: your promise hasn’t been broken. You’re a good man who’s had a hard life, and while that does mean you’re still learning, some of our actions do come from conscious decisions. What I’m trying to say is… Everyone has hurt others, intentionally or not; because it’s just our nature. But we could say one of the things that makes us a good person is the ability to recognize our mistakes, learn from them and apologize.”

He blinks again —and the dullness of his green eyes dissipates, showing the yellow streaks just when his irises recover that glint. “I… unconsciously decided to blame Rohan when I failed to notice the Foundation’s secrets.”

“And made you realize you had been neglecting your childhood traumas and necessities.” she adds in a whisper, eyes roaming around his face when he nods, staring into her eyes.

She nods, slowly. Waiting for him to process it.

“My defense mechanism is anger —and I poured it all into Kishibe. Because I hate not having control over everything; I’m used to knowing everyone's next step and the fact that the Foundation, the former Dallas Board, kept his existence from me… It hurt my ego.”

And there it is again, silence. This time, however, there’s a warmer aura around the couple, as the sky turns purple and the stars start to fade under the incoming sunrise. Wind blows, leaves dance along, birds chirp somewhere closer, clouds dissipate; and life carries on through every second.

Giorno looks up from his lap, slowly turning to his wife until he’s looking at her through compassionate green eyes. “You know I’m not religious, but.. If there’s someone out there, I should thank them. I’m so grateful for your presence: not just here, but in my life.”

Lena smiles, softly, tilting her head to the side with a warm hum, “Honestly? same. Never thought I’d met someone like you.”

Slowly, as if his arms had been previously paralyzed, Giorno’s arms open, inviting her in. “C’mere, dulzura.” Sweetness.

Lena grins, intending to move when his hand lands on her thigh, preventing her from moving for just a fraction of a second: lingering for just a second and pulling back with a light tickling. As she moves forward, the uncomfortable sensation of her irritated knees disappears. As she sits between his legs and looks up, her grin reaches her ears, makes her eyes smile. “Do you feel better?”

He hums, tilting his head down just so he can kiss her forehead, letting his lips linger against her cold skin —feel her presence as she rubs her thumb over his cheekbone. His voice comes out tired, but lighter: as if the weight upon his shoulders has dissipated. “Definitely. Thank you.”

“‘s nothing,” she whispers back, leaning further against him, feeling his arms tighten around her shoulders; his muscles tense and she looks on, squinting. “What’s on your mind?”

Giorno chuckles, genuinely amused: his lips graze her skin as he replies. “Always so perceptive, hm?” Looking forward, the sky has started to turn light blue, where the horizon blends into pink and orange tones, still far from the mansion. “I’m thinking about Rohan, I need to apologize. He… He sent me a pic of Ellie. Like he was reminding me of his existence.”

She hums, letting him know she’s listening.

“I think… I need to apologize soon. I want to go there and do it personally, but I know him, and I would rather not make him uncomfortable. So… Maybe I’ll call him first and settle the matter, then fly over there and make it a formal apology.”

Lena nods, knowing he’s still thinking. And so he adds, “I’d ask you to come with me, bring the boys so we can spend the weekend at the house in Morioh, but I know your Foundation’s inauguration will be tomorrow —and I want to do this soon, if I can fly there tomorrow, I will.”

“I agree with your plans,” she replies then, looking up through gentle eyes, “But you’re forgetting something.”

“What?”

Pressing her lips together for a second, it doesn’t take too long for her to reply. “Your birthday, Giorno.”

“... Oh.”

She sighs then, “Should we postpone the inauguration? That way we can celebrate in Morioh after things settle down with him.”

He shakes his head, “What if… What if we celebrate our birthdays together? During yours?”

Blinking up at him, her features slowly soften until she’s grinning up at him, eyes shining golden under the few rays of sun that start to pool around the mansion’s garden. “Really? That sounds… So cute!”

Giorno chuckles, nodding. “Of course, Lena. That way you can set up the foundation and I can settle the matter: after that, we can take a few days in Morioh, see how’s everyone doing over there. The twins will love it. Ares can stay with Abel in Rome while we’re there.”

Lena nods, humming contently as she leans back against his chest, looking forward. “The sun’s rising.”

Giorno hums back, leaning forward until he can see the tattoo on her neck: a small, potted, aloe vera: the way the black lines stand out from the rest of her porcelain skin makes him stare for a moment, captivated. His lips curve upwards into a small smile: and so he leans, pressing a kiss there. His intentions are far from another context —centered only around his adoration and trying to show, to manifest and expose the way his love runs so deep it hurts: makes his heart pump faster and his pupils dilate, makes him feel free and powerful. He stays there, mumbling against her skin his answer, letting his lips graze against her tattooed skin. “When was the last time we saw the sunrise, Lena?”

She chuckles, a knowing smile he can’t see, only hear in her next words. “The night you proposed, Giogio.”

“Mhm... Though, did you get any sleep?”

She shakes her head and he pulls back, frowning down at her just as she turns around to face him, “Couldn’t sleep knowing you weren’t there. I had to check up on you.”

A heavy sigh escapes him, “Should we take a nap? We can take the day off and, you know,” he rubs the back of his neck, “Plan the rest when we wake up.”

“Sounds good.” She nods, supporting herself on his knees to stand up. Fixing her pajama shorts, she turns around, pretending to help him stand up by extending a hand out.

“Pretty sure you’d fall over if you tried to pull me up, sweetheart.” Giorno teases, a half smirk adorning his features as he stands up, taking the blanket from the grass and folding it messily. “By the way, aren’t you cold? You’re only in shorts and that top.”

She chuckles, intending to sound innocent: her curls move up and down along her, catching his attention for a second. “Just a tiny bit, but I’m okay! You’re always warm, so it’s not, like… A big deal?”

Giorno shakes his head, laughing softly. “Don’t do that again, I don’t want you to get sick.”

“Technically, you can’t get sick from the weather only. It’s like saying you’ll catch a cold if you walk around barefoot, which you, Mister husband, do on a daily basis.”

Grunting in exasperation, his arm sneaks around her shoulders, pulling her closer as both walk towards the house, “Sorry, miss paramedic, forgive this mortal whose medical knowledge’s far from yours.”

She laughs, shaking her head as her hand grazes his forearm.

Agosto ‘Westwood’ Carvelli shows up before them, arms behind his back and a gentle, calm glance towards them. “Is everything okay, Don, Donna?”

Giorno looks on, noticing Westwood’s knowing look mixed up with a secretive one: he heard it all, but will keep it secret. “It’s okay, West. We’ll take a nap and resume our activities.”

“Excellent,” Hysteria’s user bows his head, gesturing towards the mansion’s massive doors. “We’ll continue our activities, then.”

“Thank you, West.” As they pass by, Lena pats West in the back, trying to show her gratitude towards his compassion —for not picking up on Giorno’s former vulnerable state

The living room, connected to the garden, feels cold. Almost like the doors stayed open while she was out. Even then, they still walk up the stairs in silence, starting to feel the tiredness and fatigue settle in after a restless night.

“Lemme just… See the boys.”

Dante and Jovi Giovanna have picked after their father; through the most recent months, the red undertones of their hair have fade out, leaving behind golden curls. The freckles around their faces have become more noticeable, along with their eyebrows and light pink lips: like tiny bosses, as Mista had said multiple times before.

“I think we can take that nap,” Lena whispers, turning to her husband through tired eyes.

“Yeah,” he whispers back after a second, lost in their little faces “—Let’s go.”

Making sure they’re safe one last time, they leave their bedroom, closing their door behind his back.

The walk to their room feels strange, like a haze —barely in their memories, like the moment they fell in bed, cuddling closer and putting the comforter around them. It was all a blurry memory.

9:42 AM.

Sighing, the first thing that registers on his mind is a warm, small hand running up and down his chest, tracing a well-known pattern across his skin. A drawing; his tattoo.

“Good morning, angel.” he rasps out, low and raspy: tired.

Her chuckle makes his eyes open slowly, blinking back the sleep and focusing on her face. “Good morning, handsome. How are you?”

“Hungry,” he chuckles, sitting up slowly. “But… Better.”

“Let’s make breakfast.” sitting by the edge of the bed, Lena’s stopped by his hand around her wrist.

“Can we talk about… The apology?”

She turns around slowly, crawling in bed again and until she's sitting by his side, leaning against the headboard. “Do you have something on mind?”

“I’m gonna call him first.”

She nods, slowly, “Okay, I’ll be here. And Gio,” her hand rests against his thigh, just like that time, back at the hotel in Dallas, when she tried to get him to calm down —though this time her hand there means she’s there to help him push through. “I’ll be here if you need me, okay? Just let me know.”

And this time he puts his hand atop hers, squeezing back gently, almost like he’s scared to hurt her. “I will.” his smile barely lifts up the corners of his mouth. Turning to his phone, that had been in his other hand, he looks down at it, seeming to think over something. “It should be around four in the afternoon in Japan.”

Lena nods, encouraging him, “You should text him first, what if he’s in a meeting or something?”

Giorno nods, “Right.” and types on the device until the chat with Rohan Kishibe pops up, displaying the most recent messages. His fingers type on the keyboard slowly, seeming to pick his words carefully through anxious breathing.

‘Hey, can I call you?’

#GioHan #AriHan #GioLena #SunnieD #this took longer than i thought #but finally!!! it's here and i'm kinda happy with it

8 notes · View notes

dailysbr-redacted · 6 years ago

Note

Can i plz have a link to all the oh how can i not fuck him comics that you did i love them

i think i only did the one?

for the comics in general (if you can call them comics lol) it should be under the shitpost tag

also the ref i got that comic from was ariel needs legs lmao

#asks #Anonymous

6 notes · View notes

seokjins · 7 years ago

Note

Hiiiii I love your opinion on dance and you're always so sweet and explains it well. Can you tell me your thoughts in this Jimin performance ([ENG] 170127 BOMB: Jimin Opening show stage @SBS Music Awards Festival 2016)

also do u know that day/bangtan bomb where jimin performed his contemporary dance w other idols? can u pls give ur opinion on how he's done? bc it upset me seeing him not satisfied w himself (also i LOVE reading what u write and getting educated on dance)

ref video (thanks for providing the title!)

i’ve been dying to talk about this performance bc jimin KILLS IT here. he looks so good. he’s beautiful he’s amazing he’s talented his gorgeous he’s talented wow what a prince let’s stop beating around the bush and get down to the nitty gritty

modern contemporary stage

this is not modern dance. this is contemporary, and i’m tired of people mixing them up wtf

2:12 - i wish he used a longer line for his arm bc he folded into himself right away, so there was a loss of contrast in the movement

2:16 - isolations (not moving anything except arms) and audience eye contact is good

2:19 - his hands are really nice

2:24 - he was so ON BALANCE for that pirouette ??? maybe it was only a half turn, but he didn’t come down from relevé (being on the toes) until he filled up all the music, and it left me wondering exactly how centered (how much balance he has) he’d be if he started taking modern/ballet again

the ending burst is also really nice. i liked the completion of his lines by looking up

2:22 - was weird choreography-wise. normally, you would do a preparation step before a stag leap instead of just jumping straight up into it. you can’t see it in this video, but his back leg is very close to being horizontal w the ground and that takes a lot of flexibility….again, he’s showing so much potential here, and i want to know what he’d be like at the top of his game

2:48 - the 🙃🙃🙃🙃 ariel 🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃 fuck 🙃🙃🙃 me 🙃🙃🙃🙃 tumbling king 🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃

2:59 - the action of “threading the needle/bow & arrow” is really really really really really well done. super graceful, strong line of focus, deliberate arms, etc

3:03 - the barrel jump he did was incredibly clean. he gained height, ballon (bounce), maintained a strong body position (his whole spine and the rest of his limbs were all lined up straight), and he wasn’t flopping around in the step. i know it’s bc he’s a male dancer, but u can compare him to the rest of the group & he definitely executes this movement the best

opening stage

3:22 - HE FUCKING OPENED W A BANGER DO U SEE HOW HARD HE HITS THAT STEP HIS HAIR FUCKING BOUNCES WHEN HE SNAPS INTO THE HIP AND THE ARMS AND THE GODDAMN WRISTS IM ABOUT TO BUST IN HALF

3:22 - 3:28 - let’s jsut talk about everything he does here ?? i could watch his interpretation of this combo for hours on end and still not be done w it. in fact, i’ve been watching it for MONTHS and i’m still not done w it.

he hits every beat. locks cleanly, isolations are good, knows when to be fluid (adding contrast!!). idk it just. wow. wowoowowwowowowow. blew me out of the water

3:29 - god he makes this step so sexy. it’s got a really nice fluid look to the movement and the way his hips move and his legs look and his shoulders twist it’s probably my favorite part of the entire piece ngl

3:33 - i just wished he extended his leg more. i’ve noticed that jimin has some problems w internalizing a lot of things, and sometimes he needs to push more energy outward tbh

3:47 - he was rushing during this part (bad)

overall, he was stronger in the second piece (the opening number with all the special stage performers), just bc the contemporary stage requires more classical technique, which neither of the boys possess.

since i’m a ballet dancer, i’ll have a more critical eye for that style, so i was less impressed by it. that doesn’t mean, however, that i WASN’T impressed by what jimin was able to accomplish. i thought he did really well for someone who doesn’t actively take contemp/ballet/modern classes, and was pleasantly surprised by the level of technique he’s been able to retain for the past 8 years

“in the name of love” (hip hop) is a piece i can’t talk much about bc jimin’s dancing clearly speaks for itself. i can’t point out certain sections that i loved bc i loved the WHOLE thing. his style gave the choreo a completely different edge. the feel was unique and was very different and his movements were sharp but also softer at some parts and GOD everything about him is amazing.

ofc there are places for improvement, but (guessing @ the time frame everyone had to prepare) this was already enough to blow me out of the water. thanks to sbs for giving us these stages 😂😂😂 i’m still not over them

#anon #replies: inbox #dance tag #bts #jimin #FLAKSDGLKASHGSG SORRY THIS IS SO FUCKING LATE LIKE 1 MONTH LATE BUT #OH BOY #this is so much #i watch his 'in the name of love' combo like 5 times a day #thank u @ anons for sending me these messages !!#and if u want to inbox me I AM OPEN TO DANCE STUFF 24/7 #IT MIGHT TAKE ME SOME TIME TO GET TO THEM BUT

20 notes · View notes

junker-town · 5 years ago

Text

SB Nation’s official WNBA awards ballot in the year of the Mystics

Elena Delle Donne, left, and coach Mike Thibault, right, are the masterminds of the Washington Mystics’ success. | Getty Images/SB Nation illustration

Let’s break down my media ballot for WNBA MVP, Rookie of the Year, and all the postseason honors.

The 2019 WNBA season could’ve felt like a drag. With so many of the world’s best talents out due to injury or other reasons, the season could’ve felt incomplete. Instead, the opposite happened.

We’ll remember this season as one where parity reigned, with eight solid teams set to play in the playoffs. One team — and one MVP — stood above the rest, but the breakout was progressive, and the top-5 seeds were all up for grabs into the final weeks of play. This season was as great as anyone could’ve hoped.

Now that we’ve reached the season’s end, it’s time to decide who deserves the league’s most prestigious awards. This is the first year I was asked to join the panel of WNBA media who vote, which felt dope! That is, until I had to actually sweat and shed tears over each decision.

Anyway, I like to be transparent about these things. So here’s who I voted for and why.

Most Valuable Player — Elena Delle Donne, Washington Mystics

There’s no controversy here. This decision should be unanimous. Delle Donne just posted a season in which she shot 52 percent from the field, 43 percent from three-point range, and 97 (NINETY-SEVEN!) percent from the free-throw line. She missed three free throws out of 117. She averaged 20 points, eight rebounds, and two assists for not only the best team in the league, but the best offense in WNBA history.

There’s nobody on Delle Donne’s level right now, healthy or injured. She’s the best player in the world.

Most Improved Player — Leilani Mitchell, Phoenix Mercury

I considered Seattle Storm big Mercedes Russell for this award, but Mitchell’s blown us all away all year, filling in a massive hole with the absence of Diana Taurasi. With Taurasi out for nearly the entire season due to a back injury, the Mercury could’ve folded, but Mitchell picked up the scoring slack. For the first time in her 11-year career, she averaged double-figures in scoring (13), and she also shot 43 percent from three-point range while dishing three assists per game.

Last year, Mitchell averaged four points per game on nine percent worse long-range shooting. That’s a glow-up.

Defensive Player of the Year — Natasha Howard, Seattle Storm

Over the past three years, Howard’s evolved from a reserve, to the Most Improved Player in the league on a title-winning team, to an MVP candidate and Defensive Player of the Year hopeful. The Storm has been an excellent basketball fit for Howard, who really stepped up with both Breanna Stewart and Sue Bird out due to season-ending injuries. Howard is only 6’2, but she can guard four positions comfortably, and her long arms helped her notch two steals and two blocks per game. She’s the clear DPOY to me, though I considered LA Sparks star Nneka Ogwumike here too.

Sixth Woman of the Year — Dearica Hamby, Las Vegas Aces

The Aces have underperformed this year due to the awkward on-court fit between the team’s best players, Liz Cambage and A’ja Wilson. That said, Hamby’s been the glue between them. In her best WNBA season yet, she scored 11 points with eight rebounds and two assists. She played brilliantly during Wilson’s three-week absence due to injury, and Vegas doesn’t escape playing two single-elimination playoff games without her.

Rookie of the Year — Napheesa Collier, Minnesota Lynx

I detailed the ROY chase weeks before the season’s end, and I still feel the same about it. Arike Ogunbowale was absolutely incredible the last two months of the season, and she’s already one of the league’s best scorers. She’s a star, a future all-star and a franchise cornerstone.

But she isn’t a better overall player than Collier right now. Collier is one of the league’s best defenders already, and she’s a solid scorer. She averaged 13 points, seven rebounds, three assists, two steals, one block, and shot 36 percent from deep. Ogunbowale might be one of the league’s best shows to watch, but she doesn’t have Collier’s all-around game — at least not yet.

Coach of the Year — Mike Thibault, Washington Mystics

I’m not sure why there’d be any debate over this award, though I’ve talked to a number of media members who disagree. Thibault just coached the Mystics to play the best offense in WNBA history, and they finished with the best record in the league (26-8).

Also, he did it with maybe the third-most talent in the league. Seriously. Delle Donne is one of the best players ever, but after her, the roster’s filled with a few all-star level talents who wouldn’t be on every team in the league. Thibault turned Aerial Powers into a Sixth Woman candidate in one year. Ariel Atkins, a first-round pick who wasn’t even invited to the draft in 2018, is now one of the league’s best guards. Natasha Cloud’s an unsung hero. All-star point guard Kristi Toliver missed 11 games, and this team still rolled on.

Thibault constructed a beautiful system centered on ball movement and threes, and he created a masterpiece that scored 159 points more than the next-best scoring team in 34 games.

All-WNBA Teams

First

F Elena Delle Donne, Mystics F Nneka Ogwumike, Sparks C Jonquel Jones, Sun G Odyssey Sims, Lynx G Courtney Vandersloot, Sky

Choosing just two forwards absolutely sucked. Delle Donne and Ogwumike were clearly the best two in my eyes, though, which meant I had to bump Natasha Howard to the second-team. That feels unfair.

I debated Phoenix’s Brittney Griner over Jonquel Jones at center, but Jones’ defense gave her the edge.

Guards this year were tough since the top six or so were on similar playing fields. Vandersloot edged out the crowd because of her ever-astounding ability to create for teammates, and Sims was one of the most improved offensive players while maintaining her elite defense.

Second

F Natasha Howard, Storm F DeWanna Bonner, Mercury C Brittney Griner, Mercury G Chelsea Gray, Sparks G Courtney Williams, Sun

Howard and Griner dropped to the second team for the reasons I stated above.

The rest of the spots were super tough. I debated New York’s Kia Nurse, Chicago’s Diamond DeShields, Las Vegas’ Kayla McBride and A’ja Wilson, and Collier for those final guard and forward spots. Ultimately, I chose Gray even though her season was defined more by greater individual performances than a consistent full-season surge. She’s still performed like one of the league’s best PGs.

I chose Williams because she carried a lot of the scoring load for the Sun, and shot and rebounded well.

I chose Bonner because she was one of the best defenders and scorers in the league.

And, thankfully, that’s it. I need a year-long break from this.

Now for some fun stuff

This ref was extra as hell and also wrong

Kevin Fahy tossed Astou Ndour right in front of my face at the Mystics-Sky game and I had no idea why. I saw the replay and ... still asked myself the same question.

Here's the video replay of the Astou Ndour ejection: pic.twitter.com/MipIgQdfSM

— Nick Niendorf (@niendorf21) September 8, 2019

The overreaction was real, and the league ended up correctly rescinding the technical that resulted in the ejection the following day.

A round of applause for Delle Donne’s 50+/40+/90+ season

In a face mask due to a broken nose and leg cast due to a deep bone bruise, too.

Legend.

EDD. HISTORY. THE FIRST WNBA PLAYER TO JOIN THE 50/40/90 CLUB pic.twitter.com/FcjKDqp1qA

— Washington Mystics (@WashMystics) September 9, 2019

Kelsey Mitchell dropped 30 in ONE HALF

The Indiana Fever guard set the record for most three-point makes in a game with nine on 13 tries! She scored 38 points on the night on 13-of-18 shooting.

Last night, @Kelz_Hoop scored a #WNBA record NINE threes‼️ Take a look back at her historic night "Buckets" by @MAGICxJORDAN | @unitedmasters https://t.co/10t9efR1xI pic.twitter.com/UjjcyxR5K2

— WNBA (@WNBA) September 9, 2019

It’s almost like she should’ve been starting all year ...

Delle Donne’s 30th birthday on a yacht featured the best Thibault dance of all time

after watching coach thibault dance i can confirm elena delle donne had the littest 30th birthday party of all time pic.twitter.com/77RmMt5bH2

— Matt Ellentuck (@mellentuck) September 5, 2019

Coach. Of. The. Year.

Off we go to the playoffs. Let’s do this!

0 notes

flauntpage · 7 years ago

Text

A Tactical Guide to Conor McGregor Storming the Cage at Bellator 187

On Friday night, the bizarre career of Charlie Ward took another turn. After being ejected from the UFC following his last loss by TKO (Canvas), Ward was snatched up by Bellator. At Bellator 187, fighting in Ireland for the first time since June of 2016, the man with MMA’s worst sleeve tattoo got back in the win column. Ward winning a fight isn’t an everyday occurrence, but it’s not remarkable in itself. The immediate aftermath of this fight , however, was remarkable—so remarkable it overshadowed everything else on the show. Ward’s teammate, Conor McGregor had been seated next to the cage and upon seeing Ward getting the stoppage, he vaulted the fence, sprinted to Ward and jumped a closed guard that would have made Shinya Aoki proud.

As McGregor made a scene in the Bellagon, getting between officials and the knocked out fighter and in no way meaning to take attention away from his teammate’s win, he found himself locking horns with old rival, referee Marc Goddard. Most will recall Goddard putting McGregor in his place from inside the cage during Artem Lobov’s bout with Andre Fili a few weeks back. McGregor made a nuisance of himself from the VIP seating throughout that fight, but if you only follow the UFC that’s about all you will know. The truth of the matter, however, is that Conor McGregor played a major role in the origin story of one of MMA’s best refs.

Birth of a Hero

June, 2012 was a simpler time. Marc Goddard was a bright eyed young cornerman for Dave Hill. Hill was about to fight Conor McGregor for the latter’s second Cage Warriors world title. In recent years it has become fashionable to slate McGregor for never defending either of these belts, but in fact it is funnier to point out that he won neither of them from men who had actually held the belts in the first place. In what has become a key UFC play, Cage Warriors was experimenting with slapping random belts on matches. As Hill and McGregor set-to, Conor looked sharper than at any point in his career. He was blasting Hill on the feet and Hill could not take him down.

Finally a groggy Hill seemed to fall into a decent shot and had McGregor losing his balance. The Dubliner reached out, took a hold of the fence directly in front of the referee, and dragged himself into the mount. The referee acknowledged the fence grab but did nothing to punish the foul or remove the position.

This is purely conjecture, but perhaps it was on that rainy night that Marc Goddard swore a blood oath to become a force for good in mixed martial arts and the only referee that does jack shit about fence grabs. Flash forward five years to when habitual line-stepper Yoel Romero took a fistful of fence as Jacare Souza tried to drag him to the mat, then wound up mounting the Brazilian, there was Goddard—standing them up. “You got top position because of the fence, I’ve taken it away, do it again and I’ll take a point.”

The Basics of Siege Craft

Returning to Friday night, after some argy-bargy and the antics that McGregor usually saves for weigh-ins (any erection mercifully hidden by his trousers this time), the absentee UFC champ was ejected from the cage. While he hasn’t been able to give us a lesson in ringcraft inside the cage in over a year, the Irishman was about to deliver a televised lesson in siege craft as he paced outside the cage, unable to re-enter. Goddard is a big lad, but with four more fights on the card starving him out was off the table. Perhaps McGregor could use a dry ice machine to smoke him out? After a brief semi-lap of the cage, McGregor charged up to mount it. In the aftermath naysayers have painted this to look like attention whoring, but you will recall that McGregor was only attempting to steal the spotlight in the first place to thrust Charlie Ward further into it.

One of the most basic principles of warfare is to take the high ground. It gives a better view of surrounding terrain, and it forces the enemy to strike upwards while the man on the high ground is striking down. This is, of course, old hat to a savvy vet like McGregor but the basics are the basics for a reason. The flipside of the high ground is that while the opponent might not be able to reach your head, he can get to your base.

When McGregor stormed the cage, some dastardly egg-head bean-counter from the commission tried to push the one-time Moneybelt challenger out by his leg. Had McGregor been thrown off the top of the cage he could well have plummeted sixteen feet through an announcer’s table. Seeing red, McGregor smote this clown with the left hand. That paradoxical left, the Celtic Cross, Schrodinger’s Punch: the one that no man can take, but the one that fans simultaneously brag about McGregor landing more on Floyd Mayweather than anyone else.

The commissioner wobbled, questioning his life’s purpose, but McGregor was still forced to dismount the cage. This wasn’t about the fence though, this was about Charlie Ward. Seeing his friend in trouble, Ward climbed the cage wall and McGregor pulled him over the top of the cage to the outside like he was boarding the last chopper out of Saigon. The crowd were riotous at the local lads getting one over the on pencil pushers from the commission, right up until everyone realized that Charlie Ward needed to be in the cage for the official decision.

All of the silliness aside, Bellator 187 confirmed the Machiavellian genius of promoter, Scott Coker. Most fight fans would look at the card ahead of time and call it “so-so.” You would think that no one outside Dublin is revved up to watch Charlie Ward or Sinead Kavanagh fight. And slapping Kimbo Slice’s name on his son hasn’t made him a draw yet. But by placing Conor McGregor in a lawn chair, in front of the rest of the audience and with no obstructions between him and the cage, Coker basically assured that McGregor would get in the cage. It is unlikely that he could have relied on such a scene, but this was the first fight on the televised card. With an SBGi fighter in all but one of the fights after this, a good few viewers would have stuck around on the off chance that McGregor did do or say something. The fact that such a hullabaloo took place right at the start of the main card must have been a dream come true for Coker. Immediately the clips were up online and Bellator itself was keen to push them. The clip at the top of this article is from Bellator’s official Youtube channel, where this has already become the most viewed video they have posted in the last year in just a number of days.

And what happens to Conor McGregor after all of this? Someone extremely charming must have turned up to make excuses for him because the man expected to throw the book at McGregor, Mike Mazzulli went on the MMA Hour to tell Ariel Helwani that McGregor’s punishment was to be withdrawn from the UFC’s December 30th card. “He’s not gonna be making any more money this year and I commend UFC for that. I really do,” said Mazzulli, apparently appeased by McGregor not appearing in a fight which had not even been announced yet. McGregor gets column inches, Bellator gets views, the UFC can still get McGregor in to make up the pay-per-view numbers before the end of the fiscal year. One major MMA website has already squeezed ten stories out of the brief scuffle. Everyone’s a winner and we have all been played for marks.

Except McGregor’s agent just came out to undermine that story, making Mazzulli look even worse and inviting him to actually take some action for what amounted to assault. But don’t let any of that distract you from the real story here: at Bellator 187 Charlie Ward came home, and announced himself as a force in Bellator’s middleweight division.

A Tactical Guide to Conor McGregor Storming the Cage at Bellator 187 published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

0 notes

flauntpage · 7 years ago

Text

A Tactical Guide to Conor McGregor Storming the Cage at Bellator 187

Birth of a Hero

The Basics of Siege Craft

A Tactical Guide to Conor McGregor Storming the Cage at Bellator 187 published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

0 notes