#there is a reason why undertaker is my favorite

[midnight-in-town]

Ao no Exorcist is a Shonen series written by a woman and it shows

Since the latest chapter, I've been thinking about how several usual Shonen tropes are written rather differently under Kato-sensei's pen. No judgement or anything, it's just cool to observe. Some examples :

1) Rin's mentor is a woman

2) Rin's secret, despite being the MC, was revealed in ch13 to the entire cast, meanwhile Shiemi, The Main Girl, who was introduced to be so helpless is only starting to be explained.

3) Also, the Mysterious plot-relevant Shonen Parent is actually the twins' mother. (Of course Shiro is super plot-relevant too, but Satan is still angsting over Yuri and she's a huge part of the reason why he's the big bad)

4) Rin also changed his view about his future throughout the story: from dropping out of school, passing by hoping to become the Order's Paladin (probably to cope with Shiro's death and also to antagonize Arthur), to finally showing way more interest and potential in the (less epic and heroic in appearance) field of talismanic cooking.

5) When it comes to arcs, mental illness is a valid reason to build a character arc around...

6) And so is making an arc about girls being "cursed" to basically "get married and have children before they hit 30, the age where their beauty fade thus they become useless" :

7) ANE is a story about women becoming traitors to protect their loved ones, like Mamushi

or becoming overwhelmed because men toyed with their feelings like Tamamo

8) Older women can be absolute badasses like Shiemi's grandma

or Lucy.

9) Complicated mother-daughter relationship and girl friendships are given as much focus as complicated father-son relationships and sweet bro friendships (like Bon and his dad during the Kyoto arc, as well as the complicated but deep bond between the Kyoto Trio)

10) And one of my favorites: full time single dad, asking for help to do the job as well as he can and finding his true purpose in life by doing so :D

Hmm and now that I think about it, the only other Shonen series written by a woman I've been as invested in is Kuroshitsuji, by Yana Toboso, and similar examples can be found in it too, namely:

1) If Ciel ever finally admits needing a mentor, his aunt Frances will probably play that role

2) Girls can be super strong & skilled (Elizabeth, Mey Rin) and clever (Sieglinde)

3) (one part of) the Big Bad is a woman (Queen Victoria)

4) maybe Ciel's entire revenge stems from a conflict between Queen Victoria and Ciel's maternal grandmother, Claudia.

5) the Undertaker has been a continuously freaking pain in the ass because he probably fell in love with that same maternal grandmother and couldn't mourn properly

TL;DR we love our boys and their spectacular growth and development under women's pens a.k.a shonen series written by ladies are hella fun to read. :D

[vechter]

2024 WRITING REVIEW

tagged by @malinaa my beloved <3 tagging: @acediscowlng @androxys @burins @danishsweethearts @daringyounggrayson @mintchocochipsposts and anyone else who hasn't been tagged yet!!!

number of stories posted to ao3: i kinda went crazy in the second half of the year... 4 fics although 3 are one-shots

word counted posted for last year: 46,426 of which LBIA is a whopping 40,444 oops

fandoms i wrote for: dc comics

pairings: dickroy... my brand and my heart <3

stories with the most kudos, bookmarks and comment threads: look back in anger sweep with 432 kudos, 277 bookmarks and 71 comment threads

work i’m most proud of (and why): gotta be look back in anger just bc it was a huge undertaking... for the 2 months before i posted the first chapter, i was furiously consumed by thoughts of it every free moment... so to finally get it out was just a catharsis... relief and a moment of pride

work i’m least proud of (and why): angie, they can't say we never tried because it was just a way for me to avoid writing the final chapter of LBIA lmao and i think it kinda shows in the writing... like it feels like a very surface level read? it's sweet but it's just a bit lacklustre

share or describe a favorite review you received: anything mintchocochips comments bc she's so good at pinpointing the metaphors and the moments that are integral to the scene... like it rlly feels like she really considers each line with love and that's so, so wonderful to hear <3 also this one just hit me rlly hard too:

(special shoutout to lys's long-winded threats on shaking it off to find a higher low... consider me endeared and scared bb)

a time when writing was really, really hard: can i say this whole year... like fr the first half of this year was a LOT so i had ideas but they never came to fruition. also november. fuck that month.

a scene or character you wrote that surprised you: listen... i write what i love so anytime you guys see dickroy in my fics, it should not be a surprise. but the dick & garth scene in chapter 1 of LBIA was very fun for me bc we don't often see garth get the same love as the other members of the fab five (i'm guilty of it myself sadly)... and i just thought it was such a missed opportunity for them to connect and mull over their respective deaths + subsequent resurrections. so, to write that was really interesting bc i wanted the tether of the titans to be a different thing for them post-death.

a favourite excerpt of your writing:

i've posted a part of this before but i looove this section from it builds and builds and builds:

It’s exhausting trying to keep track of Dick’s faith in him. The glow of moments Dick will trust him implicitly, the gut-punch when Nightwing is implacable, even to him. He doesn’t know how Dick does it— how he lives like that, the uncontrolled chaos of his mind that can either be a deadly laser or an explosive bomb on a dime. There’s no pattern to it at all; Roy thought he knew all there was to know about fickleness after Ollie but Dick’s always proving him wrong. (The first lesson Oliver Queen taught him: when you pull back the bowstring, you learn how to let go.)

how did you grow as a writer last year: bro i regressed... i used to be capable of writing happy endings... i don't think i remember how to do that anymore. but tbh, i did get a lot into the visual considerations and rhetoric of prose + how it contributes to overall mood while reading. it's why LBIA is so fragmented and so densely littered with indents/parentheses.

how do you hope to grow this year: i need to write less vignette based stuff and focus more on building a flow of events in the same chunk of text... i would like to be capable of moving from point A to point B on screen itself.

who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer, beta, cheerleader, etc.): @dandeeliion elle you were the first person to really hear about LBIA and you're one of the main reasons i got the courage to put the fic out so you have my unending love and appreciation. also, @ekleiipsis for listening to all my rants... i love you mar <3 also big shoutout to the gc for just generally gassing me up and loving my writing it means the world 🥺

anything from your real life show up in your writing last year: hahahah... what if you had been performing your whole life and you didn't know who you were when that performance was taken away... what then

any new wisdom you can share with other writers: a first draft is a first draft no matter how shitty you may think it is

any projects you’re looking to starting (or finishing) this year: pre-flashpoint long fic with a focus on dick, donna and roy + their respective traumas during dickbats era/blackest night/rise of arsenal. also really want to write a dick and cass case fic where their individual strengths and weaknesses are highlighted... only for the power of teamwork to save them ultimately <3

[blowflyfag]

Pro Wrestling Illustrated: 1995 THE YEAR IN WRESTLING. March 1996

MOST POPULAR WRESTLER OF THE YEAR: SHAWN MICHAELS 27,783 votes

The day after WrestleMania XI, “Psycho” Sid Vicious attacked Shawn Michaels, the man who was employing him as a bodyguard. What happened next put Michaels on the road to winning our Most Popular Wrestler of the Year award for the first time.

When Shawn’s good friend Diesel, who had been his enemy for several months before this incident, saved “The Heartbreak Kid” from further punishment and chased Sid away, fans responded with cheers for both men that set Michaels on a course toward unprecedented popularity. Those who once enjoyed despising him became eager to embrace him. And even before Michaels became a full-fledged fan favorite, he had his share of fans. 

“Michaels always struck me as being extremely arrogant,” wrote Nate Suarez of Montreal. “But now I'm seeing a different side of him. He’s more appreciative of the fans. He’s still cocky, but I can overlook that now.”

What Michaels has in abundance is charisma. He is naturally a very attractive personality, and the fans responded to that.

“He’s very charming,” wrote Sandra Trell of Cheyenne, Wyoming. “He’ll do something that’s really rotten, but then he’ll give the crowd a certain look, and everybody will think his opponent deserved exactly what Shawn did to him. It’s like I cheer in spite of myself.”

It doesn’t hurt, of course, that Michaels is a handsome man. For some of his supporters, that is more significant than any wrestling maneuver he uses.

“My heart skips a beat everytime I see him on TV or at the arena,” gushed Roberta Ashanti of St. Paul Minnesota. “How could you not love him?”

However, it isn’t Michaels’ good looks that have carried him to the peak. He is without question one of the sport’s outstanding technical wrestlers. ”That’s why I like him,” wrote Sam Gray of North Bergen, New Jersey. “Forget all that glitz and the hype; the guy isa terrific wrestler. He could beat anybody in the world.”

Clearly, Michaels is the most popular wrestler in the WWF, and one who doesn’t mind sharing the spotlight with his friend Diesel. After the Sid fiasco, Michaels displayed no jealousy toward “Big Daddy Cool” while he was World champion. It is an attitude that added to his popularity.

Next year could be different. Michaels could turn rulebreaker again. But for now, Shawn deserves all the favorable attention he gets.

RUNNERS-UP

STING: 17,728 votes

First runner-up: Last year’s winner is the most popular athlete in his federation, WCW. Sting even hears a few more cheers than his friend Hulk Hogan. One possible reason: He seems more sincere and reachable than the “Hulkster.” Supporters respect Sting for always playing by the rules and for not abandoning WCW for other opportunities. 

DIESEL: 13,450 votes

Second runner-up: He isn’t quite as popular as Michaels, but “Big Daddy Cool” still has a wildly enthusiastic following. Aside from displaying vastly improved skills, Diesel has proved himself quite articulate in the talk-show circuit, and that doubtless has won him fans who don’t normally watch on TV or travel to the arenas.

HULK HOGAN: 11,831 votes

Third runner-up: a decade ago, Hogan was more popular than any professional wrestler ever had been. Today he hears a few more boos, but there are still thousands of loyal “Hulkamaniacs” who believe there’s nobody better than their man. It is a popularity that persists on the strength of what he has done on the movie set, but in the ring.

VOTES FOR OTHERS (8,730)

Some of the top vote-getters who did not capture a runner-up spot include: Bam Bam Bigelow, Tommy Dreamer, Bret Hart, Public Enemy, Razor Ramon, Randy Savage, Tracey Smothers, and The Undertaker.

[selfieignite]

Selfie (2014) production art with earlier versions

From designer Sarah Orenstein:

There are many reasons why “Selfie” was one of my favorite projects. Besides for the super talented all-lady team (!), I was so fortunate to be given more than the usual creative freedom to explore designs for the title sequence of this modern-day “My Fair Lady”: a narcissistic social media addict who undertakes a reluctant journey to discover the value of genuine friendship. The mixed media “analog” style was a refreshing break from the glossy aesthetic expected of most social-media related motion graphics projects. By creating cheeky vignettes mixing historical photographs of “selfies”, a hand drawn network, and collaged elements that typically represent natural beauty (flowers and butterflies, for example) we were able to depict the potentially cliché theme of shallow online personas vs. true human connection in a lighthearted and cheerful way. Although the show itself was short lived, the title sequence still makes me smile.

Producer: Eve Strickman

Director: Jordan Bruner

Design: Sarah Orenstein

Animation: Ashley Farlow & Jordan Bruner

[x]

[sylvan-librarian]

The Last of the Animists: Exploring the Concept of Animism and How it Defines Nissa Revane

Prologue

Since the characterization of Nissa in the Kaladesh block is such a massive undertaking due to the density and quality of material therein, I decided at first to take a little break from my regularly scheduled programming (i.e. - having a public, frenzied, and unhinged obsession with my favorite Magic the Gathering character). However, I couldn’t stay away from the topic entirely, so here we are. 

Introduction

The source of Nissa’s magic, its manifestation within Magic’s lore, and how it is represented mechanically on cards has intrigued me to no end over the years. Mechanically, I always felt that Nissa’s cards stood out more than the other two regularly-printed green planeswalkers (Garruk and Vivien). Garruk and Vivien cards often do what you would imagine a green planeswalker would do: create 3/3 green beast creature tokens, tutor creatures from your library, give overrun effects to your board, etc. The design space across these two characters’ cards always felt limited and uninspired to me. One of the things that intrigued me about Nissa, Worldwaker (read about my love for that card here) when I first encountered it in 2014 was the fact that it played around with lands rather than creatures: it animated lands into beaters, it untapped lands, it fetched lands from its owner’s library. This struck me as a unique, inspired design at the time, and it made me feel excited to use the card.

However, while yes, I have always found Nissa’s skillset a unique design for green planeswalkers – a fact that makes the desparkening all that much more disappointing to me – my primary interest in Nissa’s magic as a deranged Vorthos is how it is described in and displayed throughout the stories. 

Nissa, as we are often told in post-“Nissa, Worldwaker” stories, is the last of the animists, a rare type of mage on Zendikar who can hear the voice of the world itself, but the plane of Zendikar rarely had anything nice to say; in “Nissa's Origin: Home,” Nissa’s mother, Meroe says that the soul of the land, which so often is a source of terrible nightmares for Nissa, “was never after anything other than random destruction.” Animism, we learn, is a taboo brand of magic to the Joraga (the tribe Nissa belongs to), and Numa, the Joraga chieftain, exiles Nissa because he, like many others, believes that the inherent anger of the land is due to some untold, unknown blasphemy enacted on the world by the animists. He tells Meroe, “[y]our people angered Zendikar and they paid the price. There is a reason that you are the last of the animists.” We come to understand that the reason for the plane of Zendikar’s anger is due to the Eldrazi Titans’ imprisonment on it. The world recoils in disgust at the eldritch monstrosities who eternally strive to break free of their imprisonment and consume and pervert every living thing in their way; the plane’s anger feels justified in this light, but almost no one on Zendikar understands this, not even Nissa or her mother. 

So in short, animism in Magic the Gathering is the ability to connect with the soul of the world itself which allows animists like Nissa to (among other things) animate the land itself into living creatures that can fight alongside them. 

However, the concept of animism has meaning beyond the lore of Magic; why did Magic’s designers label Nissa’s powers this way, and how can a real world understanding of animism help us understand Nissa in a new way? 

Part I: The Animation of All Nature 

Animism is a term developed all the way back in the 1870’s by British anthropologist Sir Edward Tylor as a method to describe similarities in “primitive” religions. Let’s take a quick moment to acknowledge that Tylor was a bearded white man living in colonial-era Britain using words like “primitive” to describe the religions and philosophies of people he will never meet, many of whom were currently unwilling subjects of his own government. This is an unfortunate commonality in academic studies. That aside, Tylor’s description of animism gives us our first understanding of this term. He writes in his 1871 anthropological treatise Primitive Culture that “[f]irst and foremost among the causes which transfigure into myths the facts of daily experience, is the belief in the animation of all nature, rising at its highest pitch to personification” (emphasis mine). In other, simpler words, animists personify the natural world, assigning traditionally human traits to immobile objects. The root of the current English word animate, after all, comes from the Latin animus, which means “soul, spirit, mind.” The “animation of all nature,” then, refers to the belief that what we might call objects of the natural world have their own interiority. Tylor writes elsewhere that animism is

[a]n idea of pervading life and will in nature far outside modern limits, a belief in personal souls animating even what we call inanimate bodies, a theory of transmigration of souls as well in life as after death, a sense of crowds of spiritual beings sometimes flitting through the air, but sometimes also inhabiting trees and rocks and waterfalls, and so lending their own personality to such material objects.

Humanity’s relationship to nature, then, becomes that of subject-subject rather than that of subject-object. 

What does this say about Nissa, though? If you’re thinking that the above description is frighteningly similar to how Nissa views the world, you’d be right. While what Tylor argued back in the 1870’s was that animism is a crude belief system that would eventually evolve to the rise of world religions and later on the rejection of religion in rational society, Nissa’s practice of animism is very much alive and vibrant. It is hammered home often that Nissa deeply respects the personhood of objects, whether they be trees, animals, or even the ground itself. We see this very clearly in this long selection from the beginning of the Battle for Zendikar story “The Silent Cry”:

Every day there was something new, something Zendikar taught Nissa that surprised and delighted her. The land had hundreds of magnificent secrets, and it was sharing them with her.   She would never have guessed that the giant mantises secreted a scent meant to simulate the odor of fresh worms and thus attract small song birds—but not for the mantises to prey on, rather for the purpose of enjoying the birds' melodies. The songs were one of the few things capable of lulling the mantises into an easy sleep. Nor would she have known that the vines draped between the close-growing, towering heart trees of the Vastwood Forest were more like arms than vines—arms that were holding hands. Each vine grew out of the trunks of two trees; it did not belong to one tree more than the other, it was shared equally between them, a tether that bound the trees. The vines connected one heart tree with its chosen companion, and allowed the two to share memories, feelings, and dreams. These trees were linked forever; they mated for life. And the gnarlids, the silly, beastly, sneaky gnarlids; they had a ritual that they managed to keep hidden from most everyone else on Zendikar. On the darkest nights, when there was no moon but the skies were clear, the gnarlids scaled the tallest trees, poking their heads above the canopies, and they laughed at the stars. Little breathy snickers that to anyone else listening sounded like nothing more than the leaves of the highest branches rustling in the wind. It was an inside joke meant only for them. Equally as impressive was the tribe of humans who lived in the lowest canopy of the Vastwood's trees—not in a central encampment, but spread out through the expanse of the forest. Five or six humans shared each treehouse hamlet, and there were over a dozen hamlets. The tribe was able to stay well informed of each other's movements and needs thanks to their ancestors, who had closely studied the language of the chatter sloths. The people sent messages to each other by speaking to the nearest chatter sloth. It was only a matter of minutes before the sloth would relate the gossip to its neighbors, who would pass it along through the network of tree dwellers. Soon all humans in the tribe would know of the hamlet's news thanks to the little gossipmongers.

It’s important here that Nissa shares equal amazement with the goings on of plants and animals as she does with the ingenuity of her fellow sentient mortals; to her, they are no different. To Nissa, the “animation of all nature” is not some crude, outdated philosophy that has been surpassed by rationality. It is her everyday reality. 

Of course, however, Magic the Gathering is a game of wizards battling each other, and its worlds and characters are full of wonder and, well, magic. The “animation of all nature” has another meaning to Nissa in that she can call out to the interior soul of immobile objects and, in a non-metaphorical way, personify them … as in, she can “animate” objects into living, walking, thinking, fighting creatures with a will of their own. In the first story of the Zendikar Rising arc, “In the Heart of the Skyclave,” Nissa and Nahiri, looking for a specific object of interest, are at a loss at which place to begin hunting for it in a giant, city-sized airborne dungeon when Nissa spots a lone fern:

Nissa crouched down to one of the ferns. Its leaves were as large as she was, but its flowers were tiny, delicate, and blue. "How is it possible for plants to thrive here?" Nahiri asked, coming up behind her. Nissa smiled. "You'd be surprised at how many things thrive in unlikely places on this plane." "How—" Nahiri began to speak again, but Nissa tuned her out. She rested a hand on the top of the fern, like a parent's hand on the head of a child. She closed her eyes and felt its life under her fingers, felt its struggle and its pride in surviving in such a foreboding place. Nissa smiled at that strength and that pride. And she called it forth. She heard Nahiri give a gasp as the elemental emerged into existence. It was a tall thing, twice her height, green and vibrant as its life force, its head a mass of fronds with small chains of blue flowers entwining its arms and neck.

The dual meaning of the “animation of all nature” is on display here. Nissa very clearly acknowledges the personhood of the fern, using terms usually reserved for descriptions of the lives of people like struggle and pride, and at the same time she animates the stationary fern into a creature, a person with a will of its own and strength to match. In the end, many elements of the Zendikar Rising arc were lacking, but I always found this particular scene to be a wonderful marriage of the best parts of Magic story: great character moments tied together with a childlike wonder at the beauty and power of magic.

Part II: Infinite Possibilities

Anthropology, however, has moved far beyond its Victorian, colonialist roots. On the same note, Nissa has grown and expanded far beyond the borders of what she previously was.

In 2006, anthropologist Tim Ingold published an essay titled Rethinking the Animate, Re-Animating Thought that reevaluates the concept of animism (there are, of course, many evolutionary steps between the philosophies of 1871 and those of 2006, but for the purposes of this piece, suffice it to say that things have changed). Ingold’s primary thesis is that animism should be considered less of a primitive branch of religious thought and more of an ontological philosophy, an experience of being present in the world. In his research, Ingold provides this anecdote:

One man from among the Wemindji Cree, native hunters of northern Canada, offered the following meaning to the ethnographer Colin Scott. Life, he said, is ‘continuous birth.’ I want to nail that to my door! It goes to the heart of the matter. To elaborate: life in the animic ontology is not an emanation but a generation of being, in a world that is not pre-ordained but incipient, forever on the verge of the actual. One is continually present as witness to that moment, always moving like the crest of a wave, at which the world is about to disclose itself for what it is.

This is a lot to unpack, but let’s use this to point out the similarities and differences between the previous 1871 understanding of animism. Like Tylor’s initial exploration of the concept, Ingold’s animists still treat the world around them with same respect and reverence; they still, in other words, still interact with the world with a subject-subject relationship instead of a more rational subject-object relationship. However, instead of fixating on the spiritual aspects of animism (i.e. - the inherent soul of inanimate objects), this modern take is more of a state of being, a practice of actively engaging with the world around you. 

Ingold, in other places, argues that, while yes, animism intentionally blurs the line between what is considered ‘alive’ and what is not, the true cornerstone of an animist ontology is the process of change:

Wherever there is life there is movement … The movement of life is specifically of becoming rather than being, of renewal along a path rather than displacement in space. Every creature, as it ‘issues forth’ and trails behind, moves in its characteristic way. The sun is alive because of the way it moves through the firmament, but so too are the trees because of the particular ways their boughs sway or their leaves flutter in the wind, and because of the sounds they make in doing so.

An animist, then, in this ontology is in a responsive, conversational relationship with the world around them. They wouldn’t fixate, for example, on the personhood of a tree, but they would know how to have a positive, symbiotic relationship with the tree.

What does this new way of looking at animism have to do with Nissa Revane, though? It seemed like Tylor’s outdated definition of animism already had both Nissa’s worldview and the manifestation of her magic pegged down. What could be added? Well, like the definition of animism, like this “world that is not pre-ordained but incipient, forever on the verge of the actual,” Nissa herself has changed drastically in recent years.

If I had the time and bandwidth, I might set out to argue that, of all Magic’s heroes in the last decade, Nissa has gone through the most character growth of any of them; she has shifted through the most colors and she has gone through the most development of any other planeswalker. However, for the purposes of this piece, I’m going to focus on the most recent story (to date) that Nissa has appeared in: Grace P. Fong’s “She Who Breaks the World.” Now, I’ve made it no secret that this is my favorite piece of Magic fiction since the Ixalan days, so I’m certainly biased here, but the narrative meat in this text is rich and vibrant.

When we pick back up with Nissa in “She Who Breaks the World,” we find her at likely the lowest point we have ever seen her at. Her agonies are manyfold at this point. To start, she is still reeling from the unbearable trauma of what the Phyrexians did to her. She had set out with a strike team of her planeswalker allies to stop the Phyrexian invasion of the multiverse, but upon their failure, Nissa, along with many of the others, were captured. Her mind was chemically altered against her will to be utterly, completely submissive to the will of Elesh Norn (the Phyrexian leader, if this essay somehow reaches beyond the MTG sphere). Similarly, her body (again, against her will) was then chemically and mechanically altered to be more in line with the Phyrexian understanding of perfection. Then, Norn used Nissa’s body, mind, and animist powers to launch an invasion of the entire multiverse; Nissa ended up being instrumental in this process because it was her animist abilities that allowed Norn to directly control the Invasion Tree.

Nissa was eventually freed from the Phyrexians’ control in the aftermath of the war, her mind given back to her, and as much of the grafted metal removed from her body as could safely be removed. However, no level of healing could “cleanse the memories of what she had done” while her mind was under the domination of Phyrexia. She understandably has trouble forgiving herself for what she did, whether she had agency in the act or not.

Secondly, if that wasn’t bad enough, after she woke up with her mind intact, she discovered that she had lost her planeswalker spark. While she is not alone in this (all of the other planeswalkers currently on Zhalfir aside from Chandra lost theirs as well), it hits Nissa particularly hard because, for one Nissa has always had a deep connection to her home world of Zendikar, and secondly, Zhalfir is full of people she tried to ruthlessly kill while under the influence of Phyrexia. She cut down in cold blood dozens, if not hundreds, of these survivors’ friends and family. While the surviving Mirrans and Zhalfrins understand that she did not have control of herself during this time and forgave her, Nissa does not feel incredibly comfortable living around people she so directly harmed. She is restlessly homesick with no feasible way to get home and stuck with people she doesn’t feel worthy enough to be around. Furthermore, Nissa’s planeswalker powers are integral to the identity she has created for herself. This sense of self is just one more thing she has lost.

And lastly, there is the issue with Chandra. While they were technically a romantic couple after they kissed at the end of the previous March of the Machines story, “The Rhythms of Life,” things are still far from well between them. Apart from the tremendous guilt and shame Nissa feels from what she did to Chandra during the Phyrexian story arc (Nissa almost killed Chandra multiple times, one time even impaling her), both of them are still dealing with the fallout of their breakup as described in War of the Spark: Forsaken (even typing the name of that book makes me feel ill). Nissa wonders if Chandra can ever love her the way she needs and if that is even a reasonable thing to ask of her after all the two of them have recently gone through.

While this was a long, drawn-out summary, I think it was necessary to show what Nissa is going through on the cusp of her metamorphosis. The depression she is feeling along with what could probably be described as PTSD has left her stuck in the past. She laments the fact that she no longer hears the voice of nature. The leyline songs are completely silent, and when she calls out to the soul she knows dwells in all the objects in the world around her, nothing answers. She assumes this is punishment for what the Phyrexians made her do. 

She’s wrong, however. Nissa and Chandra finally have a moment of understanding between the two of them, and as a part of this intimate moment, Nissa finally admits that her animist power no longer work; when Chandra expresses surprise at this, Nissa responds,

"They won't listen to me. I tried. Many times. But when I call out to them, it's like my voice isn't my own. Like it belongs to Phyrexia instead, like everything I've ever connected to is drowning me out." For once, Chandra pauses. "You know," she concludes. "You have good connections, too." "What do you mean?" "It's true—you did bad things while they had you. But everyone you've connected with over the years with the Gatewatch, we're just happy you're still here. With us." Chandra sets fire to a chunk of moist dirt that was about to fall on Nissa, turning it into a soft rain of ash. "With me." For the first time since she awoke in Zhalfir, Nissa smiles. Chandra, sweet Chandra, even if she doesn't realize it, has always understood and explained emotions better than Nissa ever could. Chandra continues, "Your connections aren't drowning your voice, Nissa. They're changing it into something new, maybe something even more powerful. Infinite voices, infinite possibilities, right?" Infinite possibilities. Nissa offers her hand to Chandra. "All right, let's try." Gripping Chandra's fingers in hers, Nissa closes her eyes. She retreats inward and listens for her inner voice. It's hard, much harder than before, but Chandra is dutifully helping her concentrate, blasting the falling rock away before it can reach her.

Nissa is greeted by ringing deep in her ears, but she refuses to be deterred. With her connections in mind, she picks the static apart into unique melodies, the individual songs she picked up from all around the Multiverse. She arranges them, harmonizes them, and this time, when she calls to Zhalfir, her voice is amplified in chorus. She offers an apology. The plane answers. It too was cut off from everything it knew, from the connections it had made. It, too, was scarred by Phyrexia and is growing into something new. It forgives her, and Nissa can finally forgive herself. Magic floods her flesh, her blood, her bone. She hears Chandra laugh, delighted by their success.

I could literally talk forever about this scene, how it is also a marriage of everything I love about Magic Story, but let’s zero in on how Nissa’s change in perspective is similar to how animism has changed meanings over the past one-hundred and fifty years.

In the same way that Tylor was fixated on how “primitive” he felt animism was, how it was just a cultural stepping stone on the way to enlightenment, Nissa remained fixated on her animist powers. To her, the voices of the natural world were oftentimes more real to her than the voices of her friends. The songs of the leylines, the elementals she could animate with a whisper, the power she wielded in defense of the worldsoul … To Nissa, these were all in all.

However, what Nissa learns from Chandra in the climax of “She Who Breaks the World'' is to accept that life is exactly what Ingold calls a “continuous birth.” Nissa embraces this conversational relationship with the world around her, and nature is no longer all in all to her. Hand in hand with Chandra, Nissa now lives ��in a world that is not pre-ordained but incipient, forever on the verge of the actual,” as Ingold puts it, and a world of “infinite possibilities,” as Fong puts it.

As the definition of real-world animism has shifted over the years, so too has Nissa’s magical animism. She used to obsess over her connection with nature with religious fervor, and even though Nissa worshiped no gods, her devotion to the soul of the world around her was stronger than many devout worshippers on Theros. However, in “She Who Breaks the World,” Nissa learns to recognize that she, and the rest of the world around her, is alive because she moves in her own “characteristic way.”

Epilogue

While I have certainly been burned by WotC’s treatment of Nissa in the past, I am cautiously excited for the stories that can now be told about her. Nissa is currently set up to grow and expand in interesting ways, and I hope (beyond hope) that future Magic stories starring Nissa will continue on the path that Fong set her on.

Nissa may be the last of the animists, but that doesn’t mean she can’t be the first of something else. I’m excited to see what that “something else” will be.

Bibliography

Every source quoted in this essay is linked directly before the quote in question. I was too lazy to create a reference page today. Sorry! 😬

[foxy-128]

note:this is my first story, so it probably bad and bad written but i hope you liked it! :D

Tw:Tony just being a jerk silly, mention of party and corruption(it nothing serious!)

You can translate my work or take inspiration from mine but please tag me! ^^

*☆~ A little pest ~☆

In the bustling headquarters of the Avengers, the atmosphere was always electric with energy. It was a place where heroes gathered, plans were hatched, and occasionally, chaos ensued. But amidst all the action, there was one particular source of chaos that was small, persistent, and somewhat adorable: you, the daughter of Natasha Romanoff.

For four long months, you had been on a mission. Not a typical one like the Avengers would undertake, but a mission to persuade Tony Stark to let you join the team. At only ten years old, you had your sights set high, and nothing could deter you—not even Tony's legendary sarcasm.

You had your methods, each more creative than the last. On Monday, you poked Tony’s cheeks while he was engrossed in a holographic display of the latest Stark tech. He barely flinched, his focus unwavering, but you were relentless.

“Hey, Mr. Stark! Can I join the Avengers?” you chirped, poking him again.

“Do you even know what that entails, kid?” he replied, barely looking at you.

“Yeah! I’d fight bad guys and help save the world! Please?” you pleaded.

The following day, you brought donuts—Tony’s weakness. You bounced into the lab, a box of assorted donuts in hand, wearing your most charming smile.

“Look, I even got your favorite—maple bacon!” you exclaimed, waving the box in front of him. “Now can I join the Avengers?”

He took a donut, raising an eyebrow at you. “Are you trying to bribe me with pastries? Because it’s working, but you still can’t join.”

You didn't give up. You became a master of the sweet tooth, bringing donuts every morning, and each time you presented them, your request echoed in the air. “Can I join the Avengers now?”

One Friday, after a week of relentless persuasion, you decided to up the ante. You had watched one of Natasha’s fancy parties and learned about cocktails. You concocted your version—a non-alcoholic “surimpression cocktail” made with sparkling water, fruit juice, and a twist of lime.

With your cocktail in one hand and a donut in the other, you bounded into Tony’s lab. “Ta-da! I made you a special drink to celebrate your next invention! Can I please join the Avengers?”

Tony took a sip, pretending to be deeply impressed. “This tastes like something that might actually give me a sugar high. Nice try, kid.”

Over the months, your persistence began to wear him down. You were a tiny force of nature—full of energy, charm, and an undeniable spirit. With each poke, donut, and cocktail, you managed to break through his defenses, even if he would never admit it.

Finally, one day, as you were enthusiastically reciting a list of reasons why you should be an Avenger, Tony turned to you with an amused grin.

“Okay, okay! You want to join the Avengers? There’s one condition.”

Your eyes lit up with excitement. “Anything! What is it?”

“You need to keep an eye on Loki,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “We can’t have him causing trouble while you’re running around being a hero. Think you can handle that?”

“Absolutely!” you exclaimed, bouncing on your heels. “I can watch Loki! I’ll keep him out of trouble!”

Tony chuckled, clearly entertained by your enthusiasm. “Alright, kiddo. Welcome to the team, sort of. You can be our official Loki babysitter.”

You couldn’t contain your excitement. You jumped up and down, practically vibrating with joy. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise I won’t let you down!”

With a grin, Tony returned to his work, and you raced off to find Loki, ready to embrace your new role. Little did you know, being the “Loki babysitter” would lead to some unexpected adventures—and probably a lot of mischief.

As you sprinted through the halls, your laughter echoed, and in that moment, you felt like a true Avenger—donuts and all.

[mariposa666haruka]

The first smut I am uploading wooow

Pairing: Top!Vincent Phantomhive x Bottom!Undertaker

It is vanilla but lots of teasing and dirty talk haha

I actually wrote this for a darling friend of mine. Hehe

The howling of the wind was not the only thing that could be heard at the famous funeral parlor of London. One would assume it was another mourning family who had just lost a beloved of theirs and was making preparations to hold an appropriate funeral. But the sign on the door read "Closed" so there possibly couldn't be a customer inside. Knowing the owner, many could have said that there was a torture session going inside,

And not the owner actually crying..Why would the always so joyful Undertaker possibly cry for? He always made a point that he was quite carefree.

Not a single soul knew that he was in the woe of love; bottles already emptied of liquor lied on the cold stone floor and crys soon turned to sniffs, although tears went on flowing down his green iris eyes and as if they were hot burning lava he kept wiping them away with his long black sleeves.

"How unfortunate that the laughter....has disappeared" Weirdly enough his voice was not stained with the misery lingering in his eyes. He knew it was already time for him to pick himself up and put his mask back on, but his not-beating heart still ached, making him allow his old soul a longer time of living his sadness.

Grabbing his favorite buddy, the skull that always lied silently on his desk, he mumbled "Tell me, my dear, can a heart still break once it has stopped beating?" The skull reminded silent of course. How unexpected.

In the streets however, things were not so silent, fast footsteps running mindfully towards their destination. Their owner passed many people, but of course no one was going to recognize him despite his popular looks; after all why would The Earl Phantomhive be doing running in the streets at such day, it was his wedding day after all, he was probably just a relative, or at least that is how people convinced themselves in their simple minds.

The "Closed" sign was the last thing that could stop him at this moment, opening the door he barged inside, only to be met with the sight of his darling in tears.

"Oh, Undie-" "OUT"

His darling shut him up.

He could not help but chuckle, he deserved a hard slap for that, but he did not mind it as he rushed to his side, brining him into his arms.

"Didn't you hear me you primitive poor excuse of a man? You even have the audacity to let your laughter echo among these walls when I am here....." Vincent kept holding him no matter how hard he pushed him away, holding the back of his head, he brought his face into his chest.

"When I am here... being pathetic over someone like you-" The primitive poor excuse of a man shut him up, devouring his mouth as if he had been starved for ages.

"Vince-" The Undertaker had the enough power to throw him flat against the wall, but his hands disagreed for some reason.

Earl pulled back once he felt his darling relaxing in his arms. "My sweet death... would you slap me if I say you are being dramatic right now?" His voice had a touch of amusement.

"I would clear your very existence" His darling however, sounded quite serious, no matter how unusual was that.

Vincent chuckled again before kissing his tear-stained eyes, and brought his hand up to his chest, so he could feel his heartbeat, "This very heart belongs to you, my soul is yours to take and my mind would only be filled with the thoughts of you." Undertaker did not like how he knew that his lover was not lying. He infact, wanted him to lie, so he could shut his pain away, convincing himself that he was not his to have.

But looking up at his blue eyes that glowed like a clear pond under the moonlight, filled with a liquid called 'honesty' , he knew it was never his fault. He had proved his feelings many times, one of them being today, leaving his new wed bride behind for him.

The Undertaker's fingers, fiddled with his lover's buttons, wanting to bury his face into his neck. Vincent allowed him of course, letting him go as far as nibbling and bitting on his skin. He knew exactly what his darling was doing, he wanted to show that woman the he could never belong to her. She could never own him.

Vincent Phantomhive only was his to have. That woman may own his last name, or the title of his spouse, but his heart could never be hers. A side of him called his possessiveness pathetic, but he was not going to care about it at that moment. He did not mind being 'pathetic' in front of his lover, his oh so sweet and gentle lover that could never see him as anything but precious.

Picking him up easily, Vincent pinned him against the desk, right next to his skull buddy, returning all the love bites he had left on his neck and shoulders. Removing the attire off of his petite body was not hard, he took his time with it though, caressing every inch of skin with affection, giving his butt cheeks squeezes as his mouth worked on his hard nipples.

"What is wrong Undie? Not making much of sound today? You know how I love hearing you." Vincent playfully pulled on his now sensitive buds with his teeth, finally making him whimper slightly.

"That is it darling, do not forbid me of hearing you." He went on with his teasing, smirking when he moaned loudly as his fingers stretched his hole.

"You currently do not even deserve....mmhah... touching me.." Of course The Undertaker was too prideful to admit how he had forgiven him so easily, not that Vincent did not know.

"Should I be touching Rachel instead of my darl-"

"ABSOLUTELY NOT" It was high pitched scream at this point as the fingers inside of him had pressed his sweet spot.

The Earl had this annoying habit of laughing when his darling was being cute like this. He took his teasing further by rubbing his tip against his entrance. He clearly wanted to hear him ask for it.

"Put it in already, you wretched vermin" Undertaker had never sounded so desperate before, his usually pale face now flushed as he looked upon his lover.

Vincent felt his heart squeeze itself at the sight before him, he pulled him up into his embrace once more. "You know the rules Undie, mouth open, tongue out." His smug smirk could be mistaken for one of a devil's.

And so he obeyed, not putting up a fight like he always did. He panted as he opened his mouth, and the second his tongue was out, Vincent had his mouth over it. Sucking on his tongue definitely was one of his favorite intimate activities, but now he wanted to hear him scream as he did so.

Holding on his butt cheeks, Vincent pushed his length inside him, his darling letting out a loud muffled scream as his tongue was being held captive. Vincent wanted to keep tormenting him further by the slow pace he was having, but The Earl himself was being impatient at this point.

Undertaker's moans got louder the second Vincent let go of his tongue, only to go back to his neck.

"Vincent...mahh I am...close ..go slower" his lover did the exact opposite. "VINCENT" His lover only laughed. "Undie darling, hahaha you have to see your expression right now... that alone is bringing me to my edge." He lovingly smooched his lips, his cock twitching inside of him. "You know I am close too.. not that we are going to stop anytime soon I have to...mahhahaha, you just squeezed me so hard...are you happy to hear that...we will go longer than usual?"

"Why don't you try...ngghh shutting up for once?" And Vincent did as he said, bringing his mouth to his, moving his hips faster, enjoying the feeling of him moaning into his mouth as they both orgasmed together.

The pair did not stop at one round, Vincent stopped counting at some point, he was determined to give his darling the wedding night he deserved. Oh he wanted to actually marry him for real, instead of a noble woman whose only purpose was to give him a heir.

He held his sleeping darling against himself, holding onto him tightly, his fingers caressing his back and drawing hearts here and there; as both of the laid inside one of the bigger coffins, the lid off of course.

"Well it cannot be helped, guess I just can enjoy the moment I have with you."

[impossiblepackage]

say, i heard you reblog a post about role playing games. do you happen to know of any ones that i, a beginner, could feasibly get into in this day and age? i tried DnD but a combination of not having anybody to play with (whether irl or online) and a dissatisfaction with low level boringness kind of made it fizzle out for me

oh hey an ask from 3 months ago that I didn't even see. hi.

ANYWAY. First things first, i cannot recommend @theresattrpgforthat enough. Ain't nobody better at recommending rpgs than that blog right there. Now, on to my thoughts.

If you want a DnD-like rpg, Pathfinder 2nd Edition is gonna be my first recommendation. It's harder to find games for on account of being significantly less popular than dnd5e but it's probably the 2nd most popular game. It's also completely free, with everything being hosted on https://2e.aonprd.com/. It's got everything except adventures, those ya gotta buy. For the next 10 days, there's a humble bundle that includes PDFs of lots of the pre-remaster legacy books, and includes a couple adventures, including a whole adventure path going from level 1 to 20. As a whole, the game is different to dnd but it's recognizable. Big fan myself, and paizo isn't a bunch of pricks. The setting is also super gay. There's a potion of trans your gender, and one of the main religions in the world is the worship of 3 gods in lesbian polycule.

Ironsworn: probably my favorite RPG, period. (also has a space version, that works the same way). It is narrative focused, and designed for solo play or in groups with no GM. Works just as well by yourself, as a duo, in a small group, or in a traditional way with a few players and a GM. It's structured around it's vow system. Your character makes a vow, you decide how difficult that vow should be to accomplish, and as you do things that advance it, you mark progress. Eventually, you make a roll to try and fulfill the vow, with the difficulty determined by how much progress you've made. If you fail that roll, it's bad. Cool thing is that just about everything works that way. Undertaking a journey, delving a dungeon, fighting a dude, it's all handled with the same system. It's a game about perseverance and struggle and relationships, both with people and with places. also very fun to play for writing practice. It's mechanics are rooted in it's setting, but there's no reason you couldn't play it in basically any setting. the youtube channel Me, Myself, And Die is, essentially, Critical Role But It's Solo RPGs, and he did a great season where he played Ironsworn, check it out. Also, Basement Fort on youtube did a duo playthrough. I've only seen the first episode but it seems like a fun watch, as well as showing off duo gameplay.

the Witcher RPG: i haven't played this myself or even looked at the books yet, but everything I've heard about this game has me super excited about it. the general consesus seems to be "yo this is wayyyy better than I thought it would be, why aren't more people playing this, what the fuck". If somebody more familiar wants to talk about it, that'd be dope.

gonna ramble about the rest much less, LIGHTNING ROUND OF RECOMMENDATIONS

Dungeon World: same genre as dnd, but much less crunchy gameplay. Much easier to learn.

Kids On Bikes: it's Stranger Things but as a ttrpg.

Call of Cthulhu: get spooky, idiot. The players are investigators unraveling some mystery or another, and trying to keep their sanity in the face of some cosmic bullshit.

Lancer: it's about mechs! closer to anime-style mechs than battletech style, from what I can tell. I've heard good things.

Vampire: The Masquerade: you will NEVER guess what this is about. It's a classic, it's great, it pretty much redefined the way I think vampires should work. The new version of Werewolf: The Apocalypse is coming soon, and I'm real hyped for that, too.

Shadow Of The Demon Lord: my understanding is that this game is basically "DnD 5e, but good".

[inkblot22]

The Infection I Don't Want

I don't have any words. Don't look at me. In all seriousness, I definitely love the savior trope. I tried to give it a cute little twist. Idia feels funny in this one too. Also sorry if the formatting is weird. I write these in Docs and then I transfer them to tumblr and for some reason in this fic's document I used Amatic SC and I have bad vision to begin with. No clue why I love torturing myself. Dividers by @/cafekitsune. This fic gets a little heavy. If you start feeling unwell, stop reading. I won't take it personal, promise.

This fic is aimed towards afab readers, but uses they/them pronouns. Mentions of periods and wombs. I may have been a bit less impersonal with this one, but the reader doesn't go on my weird love rant that I have in my self-insert Idia fic so there is that.

This fic is DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. TW for mentions of pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, DIY abortion which could also be read as miscarriage, I guess, abortion, Idia is incredibly mean in this and possibly OOC, Ortho being unintentionally creepy, parasites, sort of misogyny relating to periods, shock collars, electric shocks, captivity, implied forced marriage, implied forced medical procedures. PSA: don't try anything the reader does in this fic. It's an excellent way to get sepsis, and you don't want that, I promise.

Part 5 of the Pants on Fire series.

You don’t want to admit it, but a bit too much has changed about you. In the past few weeks, you’ve noticed plenty of things, but the largest and most blaring was that your period never came. Before when you would have it, Idia would sulk and pout, acting like you were bleeding on purpose, throwing a heating pad and a blanket and a pillow and the necessary products at you so you’d be comfortable in your distress. He kept talking about figuring out some technology to rid you of that pesky trait, and you really can’t think of anyone who likes having a period, so if he had, you wouldn’t have fought him on it, 

It’s too late for that now. For the last few days, you’ve been waking up early and vomiting. The smell of Idia’s favorite noodles makes it worse. Your poor tummy is constantly roiling, and you can hardly keep anything down. Ortho has been staring at you incessantly. You think he’s being annoying, really, and Idia’s been getting on your last nerves as well. 

Today, you woke up, vomited, and just sat in the bathroom for a moment, coming to terms with the fact that you could very well be pregnant. You feel conflicted. On one hand, you don’t want to talk or think about this. You’re stressed enough as it is. On the other hand, you absolutely don’t want this. You don’t want this creature in your stomach. You know it's there. You can’t feel it, but how often can you feel something before everything goes absolutely wrong? You can’t. 

But it’s unimportant. A knock comes at the door and you scramble to your feet, flushing the toilet and rinsing out your mouth before opening the door. It’s Idia. He gives you a look and starts stripping, turning on the shower and handing you a hair tie.

“You look sick.  What’s wrong with you?”

“O-oh, I… I don’t know. I feel fine.” You’re not sure how to tell him, so you lie. Maybe you won’t have to tell him. You pull his hair into a bun and he hops into the shower. 

You stand there for a moment and he peeks his head around the door at you, “What are you doing? You want to join me?”

“Huh? Oh, no. Just thinking.”

“Go see if Ortho can get you some aspirin or something so you can start acting normal again.” He mutters.

You leave. It’s fine. Idia’s dorm room is always cold. He keeps it like that on purpose. If you’re cold and he doesn’t provide much more than these stupid skimpy pajama sets that are cute but are also thin, so you’re more likely to cuddle up to him or wear his hoodies. At least he has good taste in that.

You don’t really feel like undertaking the task of looking through his closet, so you take a seat in Idia’s gaming chair, which is still warm from him sitting in it, and sigh, laying a hand over your belly. He said that Ortho was here, but he must be out getting breakfast, since you didn’t immediately hear his high voice  shrilling in your ears, “Good morning!”

You like Ortho just fine. He’s not your ally, but being around him is better than being around Idia. You wished he’d been gone for longer. You sigh and your head begins to hurt, “Hi, Ortho.”

He giggles a little and puts down the takeout bag, smiling as he turns back to face you. And then he just stares, chartruse eyes boring into you.

“Ortho, is there a problem?” You can’t hold your tongue about this any longer. You have a headache and honestly you just want to take a fat nap and let the world, small as it has become for you, deal with itself.

Before he can respond, Idia strolls out of the bathroom, lazily greeting Ortho, “Hey, Ortho.”

“Hello!” His voice is just so grating. You want to throw something.

“Mmm.” Idia glances at you, walking over and nudging your shoulder with the back of his hand, like he’s shooing an animal, “Go lay down.”

“I don’t-”

“Did you ask Ortho for-”

“Would you stop interrupting me?” You snarl, turning to look at him.

He stiffens ever so slightly, then hunches down and digs through the takeout bag Ortho brought in, “Are you acting like this because you’re on your period?”

“Did you really just ask me-”

This time, it’s Ortho, not Idia, who interrupts you, “Oh, they won’t be having a period for a while.”

Idia freezes. You freeze. Ortho goes back to what he was doing, humming as he makes the bed. Idia turns to narrow his eyes at you, his eyes sliding down to look at your midsection and feet, and his eyes roll back into his head and he’s hitting the ground. Maybe if you cared more about him, you’d check to make sure that he was fine, but as it is now, you don’t really have the energy or wherewithal to do so. You rush into the bathroom and cower near the toilet, like there’s a tornado or something outside. You’re distressed.

He doesn’t know it, but Ortho just vocalized the actualization of all your fears, the culmination of your meager existent, all rolled up into this… this parasite in your stomach. You swallow your incoming hysteria and make a decision. You’re going to get up. You’re going to get a change of clothes. You’re going to take a shower. And you’ll be fine. You’ll figure this out. You always have before. You’ll do it again.

When you exit the bathroom, Ortho is blowing air into Idia’s pallid face, and Idia is groaning. You ignore the pair and go to the closet. You grab a change of clothes, the rabbit-themed set of pajamas, you walk into the bathroom, you turn on the water. About as soon as the stream hits your back, you’re screaming. Sobs break from your chest like a hammer going into ice, smashing its way out despite every effort you make to keep it together. You’ve barely got the peace of mind to quickly wash yourself, and when you exit- the water is cold, too cold for comfort- you dry. You feel twitchy, after crying so hard. You tug on the spaghetti strap shirt, the bunny face stretching against your skin, and then you’re staring at the hanger.

You remember reading something, a long, long time ago. You were far too young to be reading this type of thing, the gorier parts of feminism and women’s rights, but… you remember a passage. The wire twists apart easily as you remember the story. A woman, desperate to be rid of the parasitic growth in her womb, just as desperate as you are now, used a wire coat hanger to remove it. It’s been so long that you can’t remember how it ended for her, but you remember the rest very clearly. The bent end, no longer crooked after you bent it, slips into your opening so easily. You can barely feel it. then the door opens, you freeze,  and you hear Ortho scream.

“Idia!” He yells, and there are footsteps and a moment of silence.

You look up at Idia’s honey-colored eyes that are glued to the wire hanger sticking out of your body, see the way both of the Shroud boys are looking at your current unfinished action, see the slow spread of crimson into Idia’s long hair, starting at the tips and spreading like, well, like fire, to the roots. There’s that familiar three-tap warning, and then you drop the hanger, clutching at the collar as the strongest shock you’ve ever felt hits you like a truck. It’s worse than the time you didn’t want to hang out with him, worse than the times you’d stray too close to the door. It forces you to your knees, sets your body into convulsions that shake the twisted hanger out of you, makes you foam at the mouth.

Somewhere under your anguish, you think you hear Ortho robotically say, “BPM reaching critical levels.”

The current stops and your body stops convulsing, relaxing so hard that your world, small as it has become, goes black. When you awake, you’re reliving a distant memory: you’re bound, hands and ankles, on the bed. You’re dressed again, one of Idia’s hoodies draped over you like a blanket, and Idia is just staring at you, holding your collar. He looks pissed, but his hair isn’t red, at least. He’s noticed you’re awake, but he’s not saying anything. He turns slightly in his gaming chair and throws the strap of leather on his desk, the wiring fried. There are holes burnt into the leather, and Idia stares at it blankly before he starts typing away on his tablet, his own voice coming through the device.

It sounds about as burnt out as the shock collar looks, “I bet you feel pretty bad, huh?”

You don’t dignify that with a response. It doesn’t matter to him, since his fingers fly as he keeps typing away.

“You’re a fucking moron. Only someone stupid would try to-” He doesn’t finish the sentence and hits the desk, standing up and pacing. You can’t see him, but you can hear him panting. 

You try to de-escalate, sort of. The shock collar isn’t around your neck anymore, but you really don’t need him to work himself up again, “The word is ‘desperate.’ I don’t want… I don’t want this. This thing growing inside of me, I don’t-”

“You’re not the only one with a parasite.” His voice is quiet but seething. It breathily cuts through the air like a knife, aiming for your soft parts, “You just have the privilege of being able to get rid of yours comfortably.”

“Really? So you putting this thing in me isn’t as bad as I think it is?”

He paces back into view and you notice something missing. Someone missing. You lift your head a bit to look around and Idia takes a heavy seat at his desk again. This state is rare. It takes him a while to relax when he gets like this, but you’ve only seen it aimed at others, like that time his account got temporarily banned because one of his party members was hacking. At least that had an easy solution for him- you’ve never seen him grin as much as when he had the poor guy swatted and watched through the CCTV cameras around the poor fool's house.

“We’re going home. I’ll fix your little problem twofold, since I’m the only competent one between the two of us.” He types out, his recorded voice not lagging once.

“What? And what do you mean you have a parasite?”

He doesn’t look at you, but you think you see him wipe his cheek with his sleeve, typing with only one hand, “Ortho is gonna come back with some burn cream. I lost my temper and you got hurt. Not that you didn’t deserve it.”

“I didn’t deserve any of this. I asked you if you had a condom.”

He doesn’t respond to that statement, instead typing, “I don’t love you. You know that, right? Love is for the idealistic masses, those who aren’t capable of keeping their feet on the ground. You’re just someone who has taken up a space in my mind. So the solution to yours won’t be permanent. Seven knows my parents will be getting on my case about providing them an heir eventually.”

“So I’m just here for eventual marriage security?”

Idia doesn’t respond. Ortho strolls in, placing a tube on Idia’s desk and goes out of your line of sight, seemingly to tidy or something. You don’t really care. He’s not your ally. He’s never been.

Idia sighs, then goes back to working on something on his desk. You don’t know how much time passes, but he loops it around your throat and unties you. It’s sitting a bit lower on your neck, just against your collarbones. There’s a three-tap warning, but no shock afterward. Just the flat look on Idia’s face.

“I should start calling you ‘baby’, kitten. It’d be so much easier for you to understand your position.”

“That’s not funny.” You say, “I never asked you to bring me here.”

Idia shrugs, “Well, I don’t think of you as a pet. With the way you act, you might as well be a pest.” He grins, sharp teeth on display, “Maybe I should put out some glue traps… or start dosing you with raw garlic and ivermectin.” 

He starts laughing, and you feel your eyes well with tears. You tell yourself it's the pregnancy hormones. Idia laughs harder at your expression.

“Aw, kitten, I’m just teasing. Come sit with me.”

“But I-” That three-tap warning from your new collar cuts you off. You stand up and start walking the two steps between the bed and Idia’s desk. When you reach your hands towards the collar, it zaps you. It’s quick and not too painful, but it gets you moving towards Idia. When you take a seat on his lap, he leans to bury his nose in your hair, a thrilled noise escaping him. He drops the burn cream in your lap.

He just watches you as you unscrew the lid and reach for your neck. There’s a three-tap warning again- bzz bzz bzz- but you ignore it. The second your fingers barely graze your throat with the cream, you get zapped, short and swift, but uncomfortable enough. You drop your hand and it goes away. When you look up at Idia, he takes the cream from your other hand and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, using his free hand to click into one of his many tabs for some anime streaming site.

“Good. It works.” Is all he says.

As he dabs the cream onto the electrical burns on your neck, you have to blink away the despair again. It’s settled over you like a blanket, eaten holey by moths and worms. Every move you make is accompanied by tentative fear, a worry that Idia will do something awful if you do certain things. You never once considered it would go this far, though. Ortho drops something onto Idia’s bed, a hefty-looking luggage set, and Idia pays him no mind as he tucks away some clothes. You don’t want to admit it, but you don’t want to be around any more people under Idia’s thumb, whether they know it or not.

[anthropologyruinseverything]

For all my crossover interest folks -

Who is your all time favorite WWE superstar?

Which tarot card do you feel represents them and why?

I’m gonna go the easy route because while I love the whole bloodline (past & current), Damian priest and a few others, The Undertaker is and will always be my all time favorite. Follow closely by Raven, it was hard to choose between the two. But here goes.

The Undertaker gets the Death card not only for the obvious reasons but also because he is kind of the “consequences” of the WWE. Like at WM 40 - the rock had mucked up enough and so he pushed back.

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

Do you have any personal headcanons for Aleister Chamber/Viscount Druitt? Outside of what we see in canon.

For sure!

For some reason he's my favorite and I don't know why

I personally view him as pansexual. Maybe even polysexual. Man doesn't care of your gender, race, wealth, status, history, fashion, condition, religion, or WHATEVER if he fancies you he fancies you!

I personally love to imagine a world where he was once Prefect of Scarlet Fox House back in the day, just like his nephew, so that means he was close with Vincent Phantomhive and for some reason the idea of him realizing the kid he keeps running into is Vincent's kid he's like "Wait what the fuck- OOOOOOOOOOHHH!"

I personally believe he'd be a pretty neat dad. I have no idea why this is something my mind agrees with me, but I just imagine he'd love his kid(s) unconditionally and maybe even give up his playboy era for them.

While he can claim he loves lobster and sea food all he wants, his REAL favorite food is chicken noodle soup. But that a "poor person food" so he never admitted it. He has always loved it since it makes him think of the maid who took care of him when he was young.

He was actually a pretty sick child which is why now as an adult he lives lavishly. "I live to excitingly not long" He would say

Bruh if he doesn't show up the same hotel as Sebastian and Ciel I will probably be pissed-

If he was in the modern time he would be a for sure romance novelist or a dancer

I have like three ships for him which are: Undertaker x Aleister (dude made Undertaker laugh so hard he revealed he was a reaper, also I'm a sucker for aesthetic clashes) Blavat x Aleister (Blavat is very much not someone Aleister has seen before and I just love the idea of this cult man somehow hooking up with a man who views himself as God) And depends on prompts and VEERRRRRRY crack-shippy but Wendy. (Again, very crack-ship basically but it's mostly cause besides the other circus folk he's the only other one I can imagine not caring about Wendy's condition though she may not believe he views her as a woman right away and assume he's a creep which to be fair he is-

Since he's based on Aleister Crowley, he has the same birthday as him, October 12th

Also speaking on Aleister Crowley:

[emojellyace08]

Lookism Random Headcannons (Because why not?)

Read the recent chapter recently and I am excited about the King of Soul's entrance (if ever)

Daniel watches anime since he thinks it's more entertaining than dramas. At some point he also wanted to become a manga artist but quickly gave up on it. His favorite is probably the classics (Naruto, One Piece, One Punch Man, DBZ, and he also likes the recent ones.)

Zack and Johan used to watch WWE matches together while Mira scolds them that they scream too loud when they're watching Royal Rumble lmao.

Undertaker was Johan's favorite WWE wrestler but thinking about it makes Johan embarrassed since he doesn't want to be seen as an edge lord or "emo or a goth" lol. Zack Lee's favorites are probably Edge, Brock Lesnar, and Randy Orton (idk I watch a little bit of WWE in my free time don't blame me).

Since Jay lived mostly alone in his apartment for who knows how long, he was thought by his butler to cook his own food since he doesn't really want to depend on them fully and make them exhausted. (Plus he's mostly bored, so why not cook and bake?) He almost burned his apartment once trying to fry an egg at first.

Hudson might not admit it but he also binges anime like Daniel. He believes that Makima sucks and the ones who defends her are simps (I mean she's a well written antagonist but her personality is a no).

Goo Kim = Cat Girl/ Cat Boy enthusiast (likes wearing low-budgeted cosplays A LOT for his own entertainment).

Goo Kim had stolen Gun's credit cards for his own shopping spree. Not once, not twice, but MANY TIMES.

Samuel might not admit it but he actually likes Jake and Big Deal. He just keeps denying it because of his ego issues.

Jerry had once owned a winter dwarf pet hamster. He properly took care for it for like 2 years and named her Bisky. But since hamsters have short lifespans, it died later on and he cried and didn't sleep well the following days since he missed her deeply. The shrine of it is still staying still on his backyard and he mostly replaces the flowers everyday or i he's not busy to pay tribute to her.

Daniel wanted to learn how to play the guitar or a ukulele but since his mom was struggling with their budget he cannot ask her to buy him one.

Jay can play drums (and teaches Daniel when having sleep overs!)

Mary can play bass and a little bit of guitar. And she secretly listens to rock, metal, and the alternative style of music since she doesn't want to be teased as emo by Vin the asshole lmao.

Avril Lavigne is the reason why Mary dyed her hair blonde you can't change my mind (not forcing you but listen to her music IT'S SO GOOD). She would like to have a friend (if not a girl friend not a girlfriend) who shares the same music taste with her to start a band.

Zack and Vin Jin used to bully kids on Roblox to boost their ego (Zack stopped because of his character development but probably Vin still does it lol).

Younger Kouji had once ate lots of candies and sweets to be "smart like L" from Death Note but almost got diabetes.

Gun and DG wears lip balms to keep their lips plump and smooth. DG had once teased Gun about being a model while Gun just smirks about it.

Mira SECRETLY LIKES Ayesha Erotica's music because of the edits on TikTok but since it's mostly explicit she's refraining to add her compositions on her Spotify playlists.

Since Vasco is mostly hardworking, there are times that he passes the exams (with the help of Jace and other Burn Knuckle members). But he just cannot push himself more to pass the Mathematics exams.

Eli had once tried to kiss Warren after their fight because of his innocence and curiosity before all the Hostel Drama. (I personally don't ship them but I just feel like it's something past Eli would do). They both cringe when they both remember it.

Doo Lee was once a Twitter influencer but because of his past dramas he was cancelled in social media.

Jibeom accidentally smashed Jihan's face when they were little when they are trying to imitate WWE stunts. Jichang was surprised to see his little brother's teeth getting cracked and falling off and he just didn't cried (it was Jibeom who shed tears because of guilt lol).

Crystal is a big fan of "vintage-core" or everything around the older eras because she believes that it doesn't only represents the beauty and evolution of human pop-culture but it also represents history. She always won on auctions to buy antique stuff and mostly donate it on museums to preserve it's structure while she kept some on her room. She almost got canceled by bidding on an authentic Marilyn Monroe's lipstick but she later on posted on Twitter that she donated it on a museum (which is not a fake news).

Gun doesn't eat too much fast-food products because he believes it's unhealthy and has chemicals to make the customers' crave for more (Goo teases him about this by dramatically eating an order of a large McDonald's French Fries in front of his annoyed face).

Ryuhei never kissed a woman in his life because of his nervousness. He secretly was weirded out by it so he lies that he had slept with many women to not be bullied by other people.

Vasco doesn't know how to properly wear a watch and a belt (ngl same I'm that stupid). He also doesn't know how to tie his shoe lace.

Jace prefers dark-chocolate rather than milk or white chocolate. Because he believes that since it has more cocoa content it can boost more of his energy and sharpen his mind and focus especially when taking his exams and quizzes.

Sally's favorite color was purple as she planned to dye her hair with her color of choice with a mix of indigo. But since she's afraid that it won't suit her, she changed her plans and went on to dye her hair with strawberry pink. She didn't expected it to look magnificent on her since Warren complimented her, so after that her favorite color was switched to baby or strawberry pink.

Mitsuki thinks that K-Pop music is cringe but she secretly has BTS, Twice, and Blackpink on her Spotify playlists. Ryuhei found out about this and she was pissed off up until this day lol.

Doo Lee once had a girlfriend who uses him for the money. She later on cheated with a new "handsome and charming" guy and when Doo found out he was FURIOUS. He later on was captured on camera beating the dude and when people found out he was canceled again on social media (pretty privileges never ends). He later on begged Daniel and Duke to make an apology video for him which looks so weird and scripted since Doo was pushing them. But luckily the drama heated down.

Magami Kenta's favorite vape flavors are watermelon, strawberry, and coffee.

Joy is very talented and skilled with nail art and she sells her products in a decent price even if it's REALLY DETAILED and well-crafted.

Sinu Han is a COMIC BOY FAN. Whether it's DC Comics, Marvel Comics, or even manga he's going to buy it. He later on posted on Twitter about how Gojo shouldn't have died since he relates to him so much (he was later on bullied by Samuel that he sounds like a weeb lmao).

[freebooter4ever]

Geno collection part 2: quick doodles version. I’ve been holding off on posting this one because i wanted to write my usual yearly blurb summary underneath but i’ve been struggling to put it into words which is a new one for loquacious me. What to say about geno…

Normally i’m very logical about my favorites - i know exactly why i picked them and there's a list of reasons. This time left me confused. One minute i’m insisting i’m not going to root for pittsburgh, even though its my city, and i'll only do ONE drawing of sid as a homage. But then there's this photo of some dude sitting on the boards in a blue jersey - you can’t even see his face it’s all about the Attitude and his posture - and it’s the most compelling hockey photo i’ve seen yet. Who is this guy, how the fuck is he so sexy, he's just SITTING, he's not even skating? And then i find out his name (and whoops it’s that guy i already decided to hate, guess i have to rethink my snap decision), and then i start noticing things. And noticing more things, and reading old blogs, and more, and more…

And next thing i know ive got over 271 doodles in my sketchesdone folder, and a favorite that was never supposed to be a favorite, and also a new sculpting project.

So. Why? his expressions are a joy to draw. he looks like he escaped from an animated film. He's got that elusive quality where half of what i want to draw is physical and the other half is in his movements, and body language, and personality. It drives me crazy because i am terrible at capturing that second half so i’m never fully happy with any of my doodles. That glow of personality, the look in his eyes - how the fuck do you draw that? I don’t know.

His body alone is also interesting - unique proportions. He's long, with lots of muscle, but also soft? I could cry over it probably. Actually i just study, and study, and want to throw my computer at the wall when i get it wrong in my art yet again for the thousandth time.

He's funny. But he's sneaky about it. If you dont pay much attention he seems like this kind of slapstick guy. But underneath the surface goofball he almost miserly keeps to himself how sly his humor can be. You get the feeling that he doesn't miss much, even if he doesn't comment on it. Yet even that's hilarious - how in some interviews it's obvious he's mentally checked out. All so you're thrown for a loop when in other interviews he's the most vivacious guy in the room. Which is the real evgeni? only he knows. :P well, and obviously the lucky few who know him personally.

I have a small confession. I’ve been sending him art. Look - the missing the playoffs thing happened - and i was suddenly overcome with concern that they might not get as much fanmail as usual. And that was so sad. And then i realized i had all these drawings. And a printer. I could send fanmail. (i have only sent famail once before. this was a very anxiety inducing undertaking) Normally i don’t like the subject of my art seeing my art, it’s just supposed to be for us. But i carefully picked out each drawing - mostly the ones that were more badass or powerful in the traditionally masculine sports sense. I definitely avoided any of the thirsty ones (duh) and tried not to use any of the more personal ones of his face where it was obvious i was just drawing him instead of him as a hockey star. And tried to be respectful and desperately hoping my art wouldn’t accidentally insult him somehow or be inappropriate. i have zero idea if i succeeded and it only worries me sometimes.

So there you go. The year of geno.  \o/ nothing in this list has any logic to it

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Which of your stories features your favorite Katniss?

Oooooh @mollywog I love you and I hate you for asking this. I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me specifically about Katniss in my stories. I’ve been asked about the stories overall and which is my favorite Peeta or favorite Everlark, but not Katniss??

Okay so. It’s hard for me to narrow it down to one single favorite, which is why I say I hate you. But these are the versions of Katniss that, to me, took on a life of their own. I’ve argued with every single one of them and changed the path the story is taking because they feel alive when I’m writing them.

Unmasked Katniss. She was so much fun to write, even if she is a little historically anachronistic. What I loved about writing her was figuring out how her father still being alive, although he’s near fatally injured, when she’s an adult no less, changes her core personality. How does the shifting of her responsibilities and the pressures of her timeframe to marry alter how she responds and how she falls in love with Peeta.

Also I had way too much fun crafting her voice when she’s thirsty for Peeta basically from chapter one but can’t admit it to herself, let alone him, until much later and in the meantime she just doesn’t know what to do with those feelings. And THEN oh lord after she figured it out, you have no idea how many times I’d just be writing along and suddenly they’re in bed naked AGAIN or going at it in a scandalous place and I’d just stop and literally say out loud… how the fuck did we wind up here again, Katniss?!?!?!

There were a lot of deleted smut scenes… 🫣

Spellbound Katniss. For the same reasons kind of??? her voice is just so much fun to dive into and I’d been wanting to write a witch!Katniss fic for several years before I got this one off the ground. I don’t want to say too much because I don’t want to spoil it, yeah. I love her.

9000 rpm Katniss. I would murder for her. She’s an oblivious idiot when it comes to her feelings but that is very much a self-preservation/protective instinct after losing her dad, her mom, and Gale as people she can rely on, all in quick order. But she kinda stepped onto the page as a fully fledged character with an arc that I just kinda followed through on, and I hope she has readers rooting for her as much as I do, despite her bone headed mistakes.

Outside Chance Katniss. *waves hands at the epic undertaking that is the OC universe* I will take no notes on this.

Thanks for the ask, love!

❤️ kdnfb

[theonlyqualitytrash]

—I am continuing as I said.

You're my spirit animal. You get it. You really do! It's like our minds are in sync. I can feel a genetic connection.

For me, it clicked in my head the moment when Fyodor looked down at Atsushi in pure disgust, anger, and disappointment when Atsushi desperately begged him to save his friend's life. I think in that moment Fyodor saw himself in Atsushi - the man he once was - that innocence. He was reminded of the humanity he had lost over time - the same helplessness he had once experienced, the emotions so vulnerable that it caused him to lose everything (perhaps the first time he discovered his ability). I just know that that man will have the most tragic backstory imaginable and that I will bawl my eyes out. Slowly forgetting who you used to be, your family, your friends...watching everyone you love die…being condemned to centuries of loneliness because of an ability that's more of a curse than a gift...and the fact that he is deep down craving to bond with someone. I can’t even imagine how dehumanizing all of this must have been for him. To be betrayed and murdered over and over again, to witness all the horrible events throughout history... I am honestly worried about his sanity. Can we blame him for what he wants to achieve? I wish I could give him a big hug. 😞

I'm so angry at the anime for taking away those silly moments that showed Fyodor's remaining humanity and replacing them with serious scenes. They really disliked him, huh? By the way, agree with you. It is shallow to say being cold and calculating is all he is because his character is much, much more complex than that. I think his coldness and calculating are acquired traits. I find him to be one of the most mischaracterized characters by the fandom, and I think it's because most people don't actually care about the actual plot. They just want their favorite ships and characters to be the center of focus all the time so badly that they don't stop for one second to think and just complain about everything. Like okay, I get it, I want to see my favorite side characters too, but they are not relevant to the unfolding story right now. It wouldn't make any sense to suddenly show them like a commercial break while Atsushi is in a dangerous situation and being repeatedly traumatized. ☠️ Plus I feel like this kind of behavior is very disrespectful to Asagiri-sensei, to Harukawa-sensei, and to the work and the effort of everyone who has been working on this manga. I mean, no one is forcing them to read. 🤷‍♀️

I do not understand how some people don't like the recent chapters or the direction in which the story is going. Yes, it's a bit confusing sometimes, but I think that's the reason why this manga has become much more intriguing than ever before. Because it makes you think about every little thing. Asagiri-sensei is COOKING.

Finally, all the spotlight is on our main character Atsushi, and our main anti-villain Fyodor. I'm excited to see how things will take a turn. I think it's a good thing that there won't be any new chapters until February, it will give the fandom time to digest all the new information (and deaths 😭).

And now that Fukuzawa is gone too, Atsushi can either go berserk and lose control of Byakko, fighting with everything he has, and possibly manage to do some damage, but Fyodor would still be able to escape or he’d try to join him for the sake of getting the page from Fyodor (though I doubt Fyodor wouldn't have figured such a thing out the moment he tries to, but still). So, I don't think Atsushi will succumb to despair yet (but the concept would be very interesting to watch tho). That page is still a source of hope for him. (Plus the living members)

(I don't know about Viego but I LOVE Snape and the Undertaker as well. Heavy on the Undertaker, by the way.)

AND FINALLY, SOMEONE WHO LOVES MY BOI ATSUSHI FOR HE IS ONE OF MY FAVES TOO. I also really like Kyōka, Nikolai, Lucy, Dazai, Sigma, Ryūnosuke, Chūya, Aya, Higuchi, and Oda…

(proceeds to list almost the whole cast 💀)

But of course, despite all the above, there is only one person who 24/7 occupies both my mind and my heart... - Fyodor.

I'm afraid I'm too loyal. Even with fictional characters.

The message you wrote at the end of your answer means a lot to me, thank you. ����🌸🌺 Likewise, please try to take care of yourself and be sure to listen to your own advice too! I've never heard of holding an ice cube in your hands to calm down before, but I'm going to try it if I ever feel overwhelmed. I'm sure it will work as it's funny to even think about doing it. 😭

I loved reading all of your thoughts; it’s so refreshing to see someone else get equally excited about the same things I do! We can just geek out and deep dive without restraint, and that’s what I find niche about the internet—screaming into the void and having people scream at you back :))

I couldn’t agree more with everything you said. You’ve voiced my thoughts exactly! Although I understand why they cut certain scenes from the anime (animating is tedious, after all 😞), it still hurts because those moments were so important to Fyodor’s character and how people perceive him. No joke, I have a word document where I’ve listed all the times Fyodor smiles or shows any emotion—and spoiler alert, it’s a lot more than the anime lets on.

"I find him to be one of the most mischaracterized characters by the fandom"—THIS! Popular characters get mischaracterized the most because of their success. Fyodor’s definitely fallen into that category, and along with him, Chuya, Dazai, Poe, and Sigma have suffered the same fate. I think it ties into the shipping problem you mentioned: I’m not an avid shipper myself, but I understand it as a creative outlet. The issue arises when fanon (born from ships) starts overwriting the canon version of characters. It can be really frustrating when you just want to see a character explored more deeply without stripping them of their core traits. But, at the end of the day, I can’t blame anyone for enjoying what they do.

Regarding the recent chapters: I think a lot of people don’t like them simply because they don’t understand them—and that’s okay! Our community spans a wide range of ages, but most of the fandom is middle-to-older teens, and that poses a problem when you’re dealing with a seinen manga which is meant for an older audience; while the anime, being more accessible, appeals to a younger crowd. The recent chapters have been chaotic and packed with info, and casually dropping quantum physics? As someone who loves learning new stuff, I’m all for it! Asagiri does a great job of explaining it in a way that’s digestible, but I know it’s a lot to take in for some. (Anyway I will have Fyodor mansplain everything to me please)

As for Atsushi, I also don’t think he’s going to succumb to despair. He’s a tough cookie, and we saw that at the end of Season 5 when the anime was hinting at the fight with Amenogozen. Also after Tanizaki's death, I think people started to realize that all this suffering is just pushing Atsushi to grow. It’s painful to watch, but it’s necessary for his character development. I’m also really curious to see how Fukuzawa’s death will affect both Atsushi and Kyōka. (I have a feeling Lucy will play a role with the phone)

Gosh my heart aches while thinking of irl Dostoevsky's works and how they all somehow have the overarching theme that love changes, people can be reborn and redeemed: so I am holding onto the thread that maybe, just maybe-very cliche I know-the power of love will save Fyodor. That perhaps Atsushi has the power to make Fyodor redeem himself. But sadly he seems resigned to his role as the solitary genius who need to cleanse the world of people like himself.

don't mind me sobbing about his character again

Some other things I want to lightly touch on:

Undertaker is THE goat in Kuroshitsuji (I loved the new season, also we are getting the emerald which act in 2025???? Crazy. I remembered when I first read the manga in 2017)

As silly as it sounds the ice cube trick works because our brains register the cold stimuli and it stops releasing cortisol and other stress inducing hormones! It is a neat life hack indeed :>

---

Discussions like these really spark joy in my heart :)) Please take care while out there <3

Kisses and good vibes, Q

[blizzardsuplex]

“like watching art in motion” (an essay on ZSJ and wrestling)

CW: discussions of gatekeeping

I didn’t have internet for over three days, and so in my total boredom I opened up my Microsoft Word and began tinkering with a “casual essay” on my favorite wrestler, Zack Sabre Jr. But I can’t talk about Zack without talking about how I feel about and my experiences with pro wrestling as a whole, so over 3.2k words later, here we are.

(I didn’t mean it to get so long...nor, in truth, get so personal. I’ve been carrying this with me for a long time, though, so I guess it had to come out eventually. Things like that always do.)

Title from a comment I saw on Reddit about Zack in 2016. Content under the cut. Special thanks to @heartsinablender/Izzy, who encouraged me to write and eventually post this in semi-public. :)

~~~~

My absolute earliest memories of professional wrestling are of reading next to my favorite uncle while he watched early to mid-2000s era Smackdown on one of those old, boxy TVs, but my first formative memory related to it is talking to one of my classmates, an enthusiastic prowres fan in the way children can be, on the stands by the soccer field during P.E. I don’t remember how the conversation started, but eventually (as it usually did) it landed on the object of his interest.

“I watch wrestling, sometimes,” I threw out, having at that point probably paid attention to a grand total of less than an hour of WWE. His eyes grew wide, then narrowed.

“Yeah?” he said. “Name ten wrestlers.”

He’d said it in a way that felt final, like he was sure that I wouldn’t be able to answer his challenge. It lit a fire under me, and I said “The Undertaker” as quick as a slap. He was unfazed, however, and all too soon I faltered: “The Great Khali, John Cena, Triple H, Booker T…uh. The Great Khali—“

“You said him twice,” my classmate said smugly. He turned away from me, back to the soccer game.

I don’t remember what I replied to the side of his face or what I did immediately after; it didn’t matter. I’d already failed the test, and no matter how biased its giver was, the fact I’d proven him right sucked.

~~~~

This is an essay about how I feel about the professional wrestler Zack Sabre Jr. This is also, if the above hasn’t clued you in, an essay about my personal history and relationship with professional wrestling. These ideas are not only closely related but intertwined, two vines. As with anything alive, both have their periods of growth and withering, fecundity and barrenness, somewhat independent of each other but in the end—as with any ecosystem—affecting the very same, sometimes in dramatic ways.

But even the strongest vines need something to wrap around if they ever hope to reach the sun. Where did these find their base?—my very body, frail as it is compared to the kinds of people who take up the path of the wrestler. That’s the funny thing about entertainment, I’ve found: the people you watch, whether on stage or in ring or on a screen, seem like invincible titans…as long as you’re watching them. The minute you turn your eyes away, they start to wilt; when you turn your back, they wither. With enough lack of care (in every sense), anyone could tear off the leaves and stems and just leave.

I could leave. I’ve almost left. Certainly I’ve drifted away from it on occasion. But so far I’ve always come back, or maybe more precisely I’ve let those vines wind and wind and wind ‘round me again, and more often than not ZSJ—what he represents to my conception of wrestling—is to blame.

~~~~

After I had tried and failed at the task of naming ten wrestlers, I remember feeling embarrassed. Now—though for a completely different reason—I feel outright ashamed. Now, I know too intimately what eight-year-old me could only barely comprehend: why he had issued that challenge in the first place. I was a girl, and I was an unathletic twig, and I was the most bookish of nerds, and while one or even two of those traits might have been acceptable in a “real fan”…all three of those things? Never. A classic example of gatekeeping—and for a while mentally that one interaction was successful at keeping me out.

But at the time it was “just” embarrassment, and as much as I hate to admit it that feeling followed me even after I began actually watching WWE with my uncle and cousin. Dipping your toes into any new activity or hobby, especially one with the amount of layers pro wrestling does, is daunting enough without the constant fear of somehow being discovered and kicked out of that space before my time, though of course my family wouldn’t do that—or, worse, laughed at, which they might’ve. The fact that my cousin was a year younger than me but, at least at first, knew more than I did didn’t really help: she never gatekept, but how she took every chair shot and dick kick we watched in stride (it was during Christian’s feud with Randy Orton) while I was left scratching my head a bit made me feel, as with my classmate, like a poser.

Well, I didn’t want to be a poser anymore, so I went to that great well of information: the internet. Specifically, I went on TV Tropes (yeah, I know) and read the pages on professional wrestling and WWE; while I was aware that there were other promotions, especially after reading the former—I remember the promotion name Ring of Honor getting a cool! from me—I wasn’t interested in anything but the “basics” at that point. What was a heel, a face, a tweener? What did it mean when someone did a shoot on another? What even was the Attitude Era, and why did people like it so much (a question that to this day I’m not sure I can answer)?

I got those down in a reasonable amount of time. Then, something interesting began to happen: I felt compelled to keep reading more about it. I honestly don’t remember the specifics—which names, memes, and tragedies (always in a WWF/WWE context) my brain absorbed like a sponge. All I know is that, after a couple of months, I ended up quite a bit like a smark. So I did get what I wanted: no longer did I feel like a fake fan, even if it came at the cost of somewhat alienating my cousin (who was beginning to lose interest in wrestling) and my uncle.

That wasn’t the most interesting thing I got out of my wiki walking days, though. Because of my (in truth middling-depth) dive into (a very narrow slice of) the prowres ocean, 12 to 13-year-old me thought I had figured this whole professional wrestling thing out: it was bright, it was flashy, it was written like a soap opera. It was entertaining, sometimes off of sheer cringe-inducing antics and sometimes out of sheer spectacle. What counted as spectacle, meanwhile?—the flippiest of flips, dramatic kickouts, muscled people billed at two whole feet taller than me hollering at each other in the ring. It was violent (but not too much, for the sponsors’ sake) and it was slickly produced and it had the best kind of nonsensical internal logic.

Of course, that is what wrestling is…sometimes. There’s nothing wrong with that, or anything wrong with watching wrestling like that, either. My mistake as a child was putting it in a box, thinking that everything I just said was everything it could and can be. I was lukewarm on the idea of prowres presented more sport-like, didn’t know how it could be entertaining without a writer’s room’s worth of storylines. As for pro wrestling being art, or even just beautiful—those two concepts seemed so far apart that to use the word never even crossed my mind.

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So stayed my thoughts on it until, when I was maybe 13 or 14, I fell head-first into hipsterdom (in the “wanting to like things before they were cool” sense). It happened with music, it happened with video games, and it happened with wrestling. Though I still watched WWE, I began to look beyond its borders—which is to say I began paying attention to trope examples by wrestlers I wasn’t familiar with. Those entries, along with a few well-placed links to 240p YouTube videos, were how I found my first favorite wrestler…who was, of all people, Chuck Taylor (who I still love, don’t get me wrong).

But wrestling news moves fast—even faster than the editors at early 2010s TV Tropes, and especially those editors who cared about keeping an independent wrestler’s page up to date. I knew that, if I wanted to know more about Chuckie T and his Gentleman’s Club, I would have to look elsewhere.

I found two places: a wrestling forum literally just called Wrestling Forum, and a newish subreddit called /r/squaredcircle. I proceeded to lurk on both, but it was on Reddit a year or so later that I found the post that ended up being the catalyst for my wrestling fandom from that point forward—a mention that Chuck Taylor wrestled at this supposedly really cool promotion called Pro Wrestling Guerrilla during their yearly Battle of Los Angeles, and that the footage of that show was finally out.

I don’t know when I found the time to look for it. When I think back to that Saturday afternoon, navigating with no adblock to a sketchy wrestling stream archive on a desktop already considered ancient, all I remember is how curious I was when—after giving it a couple of minutes to buffer—I finally pressed play.

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The match, if you want to find it yourself, is the Friends of Low Moral Fiber (Kenny Omega, Chuck Taylor, and Zack Sabre Jr.) versus the Young Bucks and Adam Cole from BOLA 2014 Night 1. Back then, every single one of those names were established or rising players in the independent scene; now, of course, they’ve all been in multiple top-level promotions around the world. For this and several other reasons, I haven’t been able to watch that contest back before, just last year, I found it in its entirety on YouTube. The channel quickly got taken down, but not before I snagged a copy for myself; in fact, I made the effort to get it as soon as I saw it was the real deal. As someone once told me, pro wrestling is one of the most ephemeral of entertainment forms—and also I don’t have the money for both a DVD player and to ship from the US to watch it legitimately.

But I wasn’t thinking about that when I was 14 or 15 years old. At the time, the only person I really knew or cared about in that match was Chuck, and so as the introductions happened I eagerly awaited his time in the ring (even back then, I held the opinion that he was an underrated worker). Instead, his team first fielded the skinny man with the Union Jack jacket, the one who’d gotten right into the other side’s faces. Zack Sabre Jr., I recalled as everyone got into their corners. A cool name, if a little overwrought.

The bell rang. Twenty-four minutes later, I paused the video and spent hours searching that “overwrought” name everywhere, looking for more clips of him, more discussion on him—more of his wrestling.

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What can I say about Zack Sabre Jr. in the context of wrestling that probably hasn’t already been said a million times? He has an atypical build for a wrestler, especially before his recent bulk up: tall but very lean—or outright skinny if you’re feeling uncharitable. His promo style is one I have seen called “extremely British” and “hilariously unhinged” (which, considering everything happening in the UK, maybe mean the same thing). He has some pretty sick taste in indie entrance themes. And, of course, he is considered one of the best technical wrestlers in the world—maybe of all time, and certainly in this generation.

To me, though, he is (simply, encompassingly) my favorite wrestler, and upon watching that BOLA match back it isn’t necessarily because I was wowed by the smoothness of his technique (though I was) or impressed by his underrated speed (though I was) or even in awe of his flexibility (though I definitely was—and here I shout out Adam Cole for helping make Zack’s first in-ring impression such a memorable one). No; it was because, for the very first time, I realized professional wrestling wasn’t cut and dry, contained within the box I had tried to place it in.

Read what I described my younger self’s conception of prowres to be…or, if you prefer, think back to the height of PG era WWE. To my mind, wrestling was supposed to almost overwhelm, saturate the senses. Wrestling was bright, flashy, melodramatic, violent—loud.

The footage I watched that day was loud, too; even through the shitty speakers and video quality, it was clear that the Reseda faithful knew how to have a good fucking time. But whenever Zack was in the ring, it was quiet—sometimes literally, but I more mean in movement, in intent. He convinced me from the first lock up that he was absolutely focused on how he could twist his body and how he could turn his opponent’s, that he aware of and could manipulate every single joint and muscle and ligament offered to him. He convinced me that it was, at that moment, all he cared about. It was still violence, of course; all his graceful movements were in service of hurting another. But it was an elegant violence, a quiet violence.

Pro wrestling, the profession of machismo and posturing, could be quiet. Who knew? Before I saw Zack wrestle, I didn’t, and nor did I ever consider the logical question to ask after: if it could be quiet—the complete opposite of what I thought it was—what else was it? What else might it become?

Beautiful, maybe?

I didn’t know then and I don’t know now. Whether wrestling is art is a discussion I leave to people with far more time and far more knowledge of aesthetics than I do. What I do know is this: I not only put it in the wrong box, I was wrong to put it in a box. Professional wrestling is no dead thing, no solved problem—it was, and is, alive, and at its best exists as a creative medium with so many possibilities. Sure, we all have our preferences, and prowres has space for loudness, almost deafening; but it has space for the quiet as well.

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It would be one thing if ZSJ was a flash in the pan, someone who rose in the business just far enough to get a handful of PWG bookings before fizzling out. If that were the case, I suppose I could expound on the point about prowres being ephemeral, say something that would amount to “the world may have moved on from him, but I’ll never forget how he opened my eyes all those years ago”. But that would be both extremely disingenuous and, to be honest, make a worse narrative. That one match made me understand wrestling more; following Zack’s career afterwards made me love it.

A not insignificant part to this is the fact I hitched my cart to a damn good horse—if Zack was good in 2014, he got even better as the years went by. While he was always a joy to see work, once he improved at selling in particular (which I never thought he was horrible at, mind, but watching early tapes back you can tell the difference), his matches went from baseline good to great; who doesn’t enjoy watching ZSJ crumple and ragdoll around the ring these days? Yet another big reason I am genuinely grateful for his wrestling is far beyond him: ZSJ was my passport to the rest of the wrestling world. Through him, I discovered so many promotions, so many other amazing wrestlers. There was PWG, of course—tying Mike Bailey into knots in the finals of a BOLA, making Chris Hero’s finger bleed, going to war with Roderick Strong over the belt. There was him countering Will Ospreay’s top rope move into a triangle choke that one Wrestlemania weekend. It was him who put me on to European wrestling, with WxW and RevPro and everyone else. His fight with Negro Casas was the first time I’d seen a mat-based lucha match. And, of course, without him I wouldn’t have started watching New Japan, and without New Japan I would’ve never seen any of the amazing people that make up the puro and/or joshi scene.

I always, always come back to Zack himself, though, it’s true. And maybe, some might suggest, it’s at least partly out of a mix of nostalgia and novelty—he was the first wrestler I paid attention to that looked different and wrestled different from what I considered the norm. When I’m put in a hyperfocused trance by the quiet of his matches, past and present, perhaps it’s just my subconscious, somehow, paying respect to how he made that young teen feel.

My answer to that is…well, maybe a little. But ZSJ doesn’t coast by on that alone—he is continually improving, continually striving to improve, and I couldn’t be happier that he’s getting his due. And, like with professional wrestling itself, I find happiness in that match from 2014 (almost a decade ago, now!) not only out of a sense of nostalgia, or even its own sake, but because it’s proof of what Zack Sabre Jr. was and has now become.

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A trio of ZSJ-related anecdotes to round things off:

1.) When I was in late high school, I did a school project on professional wrestling. The local guy I interviewed was honestly pretty gracious, but something he said nagged at me. “Pro wrestling,” he tried to explain to me, even before I said anything about what I watched, “isn’t just like WWE.” I know, I wanted to reply. My favorite wrestler is Zack Sabre Jr. I watch mostly American indies. Why are you assuming that I don’t know that?—but it would have come across indignant, and so I held my tongue.

2.) A few months later, I wrote a post on Facebook on why I liked pro wrestling, inspired by my discovery of Barthes’ essay on it in his Mythologies. My old classmate, the one who gatekept me when we were both eight, saw it—and he not only liked it, not only commented positively on it, but even DMed me. “Who’s your favorite wrestler?” he asked me. “Zack Sabre Jr.,” I said. He then proceeded to approve, saying that he was great in the Cruiserweight Classic; he was then surprised when I said I’d been following his career for a while even before that.

3.) When my older sister and I were in the women’s section of the Tokyo Dome during Wrestle Kingdom 14 Night 1, we ended up sitting next to and chatting with an Australian lady who got into NJPW because of her boyfriend (they both really liked Ospreay). When ZSJ came down to the ring, I heard her say encouragingly to me “that’s your Zack”. I’m not sure if I’d ever say he’s mine, but that was the night, maybe even the moment, that the very beginnings of this essay were born: when I realized how much he’d influenced at least this part of my life. Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to jump down fifteen rows of seats and shake his hand, tell him even a little what his performances meant to me.

But that was not the time for that; three years later I still haven’t found the time for it, living where I do. Instead, I ended up, and end up, just sitting in my chair, screaming wordlessly at the top of my lungs, and watching him wrestle.