#somehow this run I’m having issues in battles

[transkingcobra]

Y’all why are the petrified drow bois so fucking cute

How have I never heard a damn thing about these men

Where are the horny NPC-fuckers about them???

Forget Dhourn, gimme them

[csuitebitches]

How to Wake Up Early

I always wanted to be one of those girls who would wake up early, go for a run and be super productive with their mornings. The issue is - i really love sleep. Every time i would start a routine, i would eventually fail. I would wake up to turn the alarm off, think to myself “5 mins more” and boom- it’s suddenly 8:30 am and i need to leave for work in less than 1 hour.

Two videos on YouTube really changed my mind. One was Andrew Huberman’s, and the other was Jihyo, a k-pop star.

I came across Andrew Huberman’s video about dopamine, and somehow, it helped me to understand why the difficulty waking up early is so important. Now I’m no expert of neuroscience, but let me explain to the best of my abilities.

Dopamine is essentially the build up to the reward; it is not the reward. It is the satisfaction and happiness you feel (when your body releases), after you have achieved something that was painful/ required you to struggle a bit. In order to receive this reward, you have to feel pain, because pain and satisfaction are directly related to each other. Satisfaction without pain is useless and does nothing for you essentially.

That got me wondering: for me, waking up early is difficult. It’s painful. I dont want to do it. But if I do it, its my first win of the day. It’s the first challenge I have overcome of that day, and I always do feel amazing after. The dopamine release after the struggle of waking up and winning the battle of not going back to sleep is definitely there. I feel more confident because a) I have done the “right” thing b) selfishly, i can do something so simple that a lot of people struggle with c) it weirdly makes me feel more confident and like I’m doing the first step of being an adult right.

Jihyo’s video was quite random - she did some show where it shows her daily life when she’s not working. Parts of it made me feel like she’s unable to just relax with herself (probably because her body and mind are so used to chaos, performing, her girl group living together for so many years) so she busies herself a lot. I took the positives from the video; she’s extremely disciplined which I admired, she gets her chores done, she’s good at ensuring that her space is truly her space.

So I decided to build a relatively foolproof routine; but mind you, it does require quite a bit of willpower.

I’ve developed a habit of waking of waking up at 5 am. I head straight for a 30-45 minute meditation and then at least an hour long workout. I stack my habits that way; right after meditation, I put on my running shoes. I used to really struggle with waking up, even if I had to wake up late. This is the strategy that worked me, see if it works for you.

1. Reset your space the night before

This makes you feel less stressed in the morning and also genuinely makes you feel like you have your shit together. Put your clothes away, keep your bag in its place, clean up your desk, reorganise your make up and skin care products. You’re going to go to sleep and wake up to a clean space.

Make sure you define both your bedtime and wake up time. My bedtime is 9:30 pm - so i manage my chores, reading, dinner, everything around that.

2. Early dinner

I’ve noticed that early dinners help me sleep better. I’ve built the habit of casually walking for 25-30 minutes post dinner (not right after eating, after about 15 mins). I’m not walking fast to a point where I’m sweating and puffing, I’m casually strolling outside. During this time, I don’t listen to music, interact with anyone or my phone. I use this time to connect with myself and think about whatever I feel like.

3. No devices before sleeping

I don’t want to stimulate myself before sleeping, so I prefer reading before bed. If you don’t like reading, you can instead do your skincare, maybe revise some physical study notes, etc.

4. Using Alarmy app

This app is torture and I swear by it. This little thing makes you a solve a challenge of your choice in order to make the alarm stop, like math problems, puzzles, etc. I chose 5 math problems.

5. Keep your phone across the room

Don’t charge it near your reach. Keep it as away from you as possible.

6. Stand for two minutes after shutting off the alarm

Don’t allow yourself to snooze, or go back to bed. This is the part that really requires you to tell yourself: “i am not going back to sleep. I’m going to wake up and do the things I have to do for my own benefit.” Remember - the states of heaven and hell are not outside of you, they’re inside you. They are mental states. You have to fight with your lazy demon and tell him/her/whoever that NO; we are NOT going back to bed.

I charge my phone across the room so that forces me to walk first thing in the morning. To stop myself from going back to sleep, after i have shut the alarm off, i just stand for 2 minutes. I dont sit, or go back to bed. I stand and tell myself, we’re doing this. We’re going to wake up and have an amazing day.

Your mind is like a child with tantrums and mood swings. Your rational self has to discipline your mind the way a parent would to a child.

7. Turn a small light on

Not something that is jarring or overwhelming, but enough to help you start waking up. I turn my phone’s flashlight on and keep it on my desk.

8. Be consistent, even on weekends

The biggest mistake you can make is not being consistent. Your body doesnt recognise weekends, your mind does. Your body doesn’t know that tomorrow is Monday, so its time to wake up early. By staying consistent (yes, I wake up at 5 am on weekends too), it allows my body to develop its own body clock and not wrecking the system I’ve kept in place.

What do I do if I have a late night?

It really depends. Let’s say I come home relatively early (+2 hours around my bedtime) around 11 pm, and im in bed by 11:30. I’ll wake up somewhere close to 5 am, like 6 am instead. The next day I ensure I’m in bed by the bedtime I’ve kept for myself and wake up at 5 am again.

If I come home really late, like 3 am - i keep my alarm exactly 8 hours from that time. I need to get sleep, but oversleeping is an issue and that wont allow me to wake up early the next day. I want to get enough sleep where im rested for the day, but not excessively. Unfortunately, sleeping so late would definitely mean that i wont be able to fall asleep at my dot 9:30 pm bedtime, but i turn the lights off and get ready to sleep by then anyway, and mentally prepare for my 5 am wake up call.

[ogdegenerate]

Fuck it I cant sleep so here ya go

Werewolf x BAMF Human thingy prt1(?)

This will be very gay cuz fuck hetaronortivity and long cuz i’m a complex fucker

You are deceptively strong and durable on a supernatural level.

And by on all means you shouldn’t be, as far as you know you’re 100% human, it was just very easy to get strong to you.

You live alone in a cottage in the woods, traveling to a nearby town (which would take hours by vehicle but only a few minutes for you on foot) for groceries or any other supplies isn’t really an issue, you just enjoy the solitude.

While hunting for dinner, you find a black wolf who’s unconscious and heavily wounded. Maybe poachers nearby lost their score? They better pick a god and pray that they don’t run into you.

Because of your bleeding heart and to fuck over the dickwards who wanted to skin the pup, you decided to bring the wolf back home and nurse them back to health

In hindsight, the biggest red flag was that this certain wolf was bigger and heavier than the average lupine, then again it’s nothing you cant handle and there’s not much of a point to body shame a wild animal.

You bring the suspiciously-bigger-than-normal-wolf back to your humble cabin and nurse them back to health with the power of a first-aid kit and your know-how of animals.

The night goes by and you awoken to your fridge being ran through, the door wide open, and the wolf-who-was-way-too-big-to-be-a-normal-wolf no where to be seen.

You fear that the poachers mightve somehow found where you live and captured the wolf, but there’s no signs of a struggle anywhere.

This leads you to deduce that the fuckmothering wolf you decided to bring to your house and deemed safe to sleep under the same roof in WASN’T your run of the mill wolf and never was.

Atleast the fucker could leave a thank you note or something.

Few days go by where you have to go deeper into the woods due to the sudden raid of your consumables. You were chasing down a moose because why not? It’s been a week and it looked at you funny.

You only manage to loose sight of it for a few seconds before you come to see that your bounty got slain by a pair of huge brown wolfmen. One of them even spots you and gives you a snide grin.

Try as you back away, you bump into something hard (STOP IT) and fuzzy, and to your distain it was a gray werewolf -being accompanied by its blonde friend- blocking your path.

Ambushed and surrounded by a quartet of lycans, the one that smiled at you graciously informed you that you’re currently hunting within their turf. You apologized like the good man mother raised you to be and made it clear that you will make sure not to make the same mistake again as you try to move away from the wolves who towered over you by a foot or two.

The gray wolf clarified that a simple apology isn’t going to cut it and that they would be willing to forgive and forget if you “have some fun with them”

A small part of you is quite curious and maybe a bit excited of the “invitation”, but you ultimately give your answer by unrooting an entire tree with your bare hands.

Cue little red riding good by cupcakke as you chase down the small pack while carrying an entire tree over your head.

You don’t see those werewolves again for a while and you’re free to get some meat (SHUT UP) without any interruptions for about a week

Until one quiet night of stargazing, the same werewolves you terrorized way back when came back with some friends.

Geez guys atleast fight your own battles.

Good thing you got your trusty shotgun because if you’re going to taking on 14 or more werewolves, you’re not going down without a fight.

The blonde one you remember seeing pointed at you and shouted at something behind them about an intruder who threatened then

Ok they’re not wrong but it was all in self defense

The werewolves part way for whoever blondie was talking to, and you can’t believe to see the consequences of your own ignorance.

The ALPHA wolf (as the yellow one described him) is bigger and bulkier than the rest of the company. But this isn’t any random alpha werewolf. This werewolf was covered in black fur. Fucker still even has the bandages around his beefy arms.

As the alpha walks towards you, you decided to meet him there halfway, yelling at the wolf on how rude of a guest he was and that none of this would even be happening if he didn’t steal his meats.

As the wolf opens it maw, you cut them off that leaving them alive doesn’t count for shit and nobody here is entitled to anything of yours just because you’re big and scary and weirdly handsome

Before you can say another thing, the wolf discards something off their back and drops it in front of you, the huge and meaty thud breaking your train of thought.

You behold the object infront of you and see it’s a giant willdboar. Somehow even bigger than the moose from before.

In shock, you look back up to the black wolf who’s now kneeling down at eye level to you. His red eyes, unmistakably wolf like, still has a strange humanity to them. And yet they magically sparkle like jewels under the moonlight.

“Thank you for saving my life, I do hope this will make up for all of the trouble you went through”

His voice was deep, gruff, and manly and still so soft and calm. There was no hint of anger or malice in his voice compared to the others, actually, maybe there even was hint of guilt as well?

The black wolf stood back up to their full 8 foot majesty, adding on that he will personally talk to the lycans who made an attempt on your body personally and make sure that they wont bother you again.

The alpha began to walk away, but your voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Don’t be a stranger!”

The big black wolf turned to you with his ruby eyes wide at you, he looked surprised, confused even, it’s clear that he wasn’t expecting this to even happen and neither were you.

The alpha’s maw opened, but no words came out, not even a sound. All he could do was look to the side and give a nod.

As the werewolf walked away with his pact following suit, you couldn’t help but notice as his black tail sway side to side, dare you say it was… wagging?

No, it cant be. You must be very tired. It has been a long week

[foliosriot]

THE ROTTEN AND UGLY

noah sebastian x reader

SUMMARY!!

you break up with noah without thinking about the consequences for either of you.

WARNINGS!!

language. description of a panic attack. self-worth issues. mental health problems (depression, anxiety).

AUTHOR’S NOTE!!

anyways this got angstier than i’d originally anticipated so uh enjoy the pain i’m about to serve you on a damaged and thrifted zoopals plate

masterlist

You hate how much he’s gotten under your skin over the years. The way he’s taken a variety of sharp objects and ruthlessly carved his name into your bones. In the intricacies of your veins there are markings that are nearly identical to his tattoos. You swear your hips and waist are permanently speckled with dark smudges, a repeating pattern that looks suspiciously like his fingerprints.

You’re still picking out pieces of him from yourself.

And yet, you were the one to end it. You were the one that told Noah you “can’t do this anymore”, whatever the hell that means. He asked as much, but you didn’t seem capable in giving him a straight answer. So you left the house battling against your instincts to run back to him.

But you were able to fight against them as you let yourself out the front door, leaving behind someone that has been a rock in your life for as long as you can remember. You left Noah standing in the living room, alone and confused. You fucking abandoned your self-proclaimed soulmate.

That was nearly a month ago.

After you left the boys’ house that day, you somehow convinced yourself that you were no longer hopelessly in love with Noah. You gaslit your own brain into believing your relationship — both platonic and romantic — was built on the fact that you were never good enough, that Noah took pity on you from the get-go.

It seemed to work. At first, that is. Because, before you altered your brain, you allowed yourself to wallow in your guilt and anxieties. For three consecutive days you bawled into your pillows, grimacing and crying even harder when the smell of Noah’s cologne met your nostrils. You were throwing yourself quite the pity party, and it was torturous.

But you were the one who was convinced that you never deserved Noah in the first place. You ended it, not him.

When those three days were up and gone, you managed to pull yourself together long enough to allow your best friend, Violet, to take you out for a girls’ night. It was something you needed — it was something that could distract you from your own head.

And the fact that it had worked was surprising. Maybe it worked too well.

At one of the handful of bars Violet had dragged you to you met Ryan. He was tall, lithe build and long limbs. His blackened hair was shorter on the sides, allowing the top to grow longer, thus falling into the beautiful hazel of his eyes. He had snow white skin but his flesh was divided up by swathes of colored ink that had nearly glowed under the neon lights. He’d donned an old Bullet For My Valentine t-shirt and black cargo pants.

Something about him had felt familiar to you. But you weren’t allowed anymore pondering over that inclination as Ryan had dragged you onto the dance floor.

It wouldn’t occur to you until a week later when you and Ryan were on your first official date. If it weren’t for the gauged ears, the round, rimless glasses, or the chunky gold rings, you would have thought he was somebody else. It was almost uncanny.

God, but you could have sworn…

You were wrong, however.

Ryan seemed to really like you, though. He had an eye for finer details and was a real sweetheart. He was obviously taking things slow with you, especially after you had accidentally dumped the story of what happened with Noah onto him over one too many shots of tequila. His genuine concern and sympathy over the entire ordeal had you fawning over him tenfold.

You and Ryan went on more dates since that night. Around him you were pushing down your self pity and replacing it with something you could have mistaken for happiness; you felt content around Ryan.

Unfortunately, nothing lasts forever.

It was nearing dusk when your apartment’s doorbell chimed. The sound startled you for a moment, but you relaxed as you headed for the door.

But there was Ryan, that smile of his you had anticipated on his face. You swallow down the chunk of disappointment.

“Hey,” you greeted him. You stepped aside to let him inside before gently clicking the door shut. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, sorry! I was gonna text you that I was coming over, but I thought I’d make it a surprise,” Ryan replies with a shrug.

You force a smile, hoping it came off, at least, partially genuine. “Oh, okay. Well, do you wanna watch a movie or something, then?” you asked.

“Sure.”

The two of you walk in to the living room in search of something to watch, be it a movie or a random episode of a TV show. You sit fairly close to each other on the small couch, a minimal amount of space between both your legs.

As you continue your hunt for your entertainment for the night, your anxiety begins to gradually rise. Your heart is thumping wildly and the palms of your hands are growing clammy and there’s a dull throbbing pain behind your left eye. Why is this happening? What the fuck is going on?

You don’t realize when you begin drawing in breaths in quicker succession, until your chest is seizing and you’re hyperventilating. The sound of Ryan’s concerned voice is muted from inside your skull, making you feel as if you were underwater. Tears are spilling down your face but you can’t find the strength to wipe them away.

Then you feel the vibrations of Ryan frantically speaking to you floating around your brain, and you’re not quite sure what he asked, but you manage to choke out one word.

Noah.

Everything became darker and blurrier after that. Time didn’t existence nor did anything around you. Your head was swimming and you couldn’t figure out where you were — if you were at home, if you were at work, with Noah.

Noah.

You think you hear the front door opening and slamming shut all of a sudden. But you aren’t quite sure anymore. This is the most violent panic attack you’ve ever had.

You jolt when there’s an unexpected hand carefully grasping yours. It must be Ryan.

His skin is frigid compared to the heat radiating from you. He begins gently running his thumb over your knuckles, a gesture that feels vaguely familiar.

The thing that finally brings you back to the present is the soft voice in your ear. At least you think it’s soft and gentle. Everything still sounds warbled, but there’s a distinct difference to this voice. You latch onto it and begin pulling yourself towards it in hopes of relinquishing the hold this panic attack has on you.

Darkness begins slinking away to reveal your living room. Your vision is blurry when you come to, but you blink away the tears that cling to your eyelashes, the action almost painful. You take a few moments to carefully and slowly gulp down several lungfuls of air before you turn to the body beside you.

But you aren’t met with the worried glaze in Ryan’s hazel eyes. Instead you see Noah next to you, his head angled down in your direction as he quietly sings.

Oh.

That’s how you were able to get through your panic attack. The only thing that has ever had that kind of power is Noah singing and holding your hand. He did it to let you know he was there the entire time, to provide something to keep you grounded to reality.

“Noah…”

Your voice comes out as a broken whisper. Noah immediately stops singing. His head shoots up. There is a frantic glint in his dark eyes as he searches your face for a moment before locking his gaze with yours.

“Baby, what happened?” he asks, one of his hands moving to your face. His palm is cool against your cheek, and you nearly shudder at the sensation of his calloused thumb gently stroking your cheekbone.

“Wh-What are you doing here?” you counter. You’re trying to ignore the fluttering sensation in your heart when he called you baby. But it is much too difficult, especially when he’s looking at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. Like you were worth looking at and cherishing. Your stomach churns mildly.

A muscle feathers under his skin when Noah clenches his jaw. He continues staring at you, save for the single glance he shoots up and to the left.

You hesitantly look over your shoulder, and there, standing just behind the couch with his hands clenching the cushions, is Ryan. The look on his face is tight but unreadable. You feel Noah’s hand lightly glide down until it rests against the side of your neck. Ryan’s eyes track the movement.

“What happened?” You ask Ryan the same question, hoping he gives you an answer. You’re trying to ignore the placement of Noah’s hand, but it is proving to be nowhere near easy.

It takes Ryan a few prolonged seconds to say anything. But when he does finally speak, he says, “We were trying to find a movie to watch, but then you tensed and started shaking. I tried talking to you and to get you to stop crying and hyperventilating. You weren’t responding and I was getting really fucking worried.”

Ryan pauses. He visibly swallows, then shifts his hazel gaze from the hand against your throat to your face. A flinch ripples through your body at the emotionless light in his eyes.

“You managed to say one word,” he continues. His tone is devoid of feeling, almost like he was trying not to show any emotion at all. “Noah. And I automatically knew who you were talking about. So, because I was desperate as shit, I got your phone unlocked and found his contact you kept for some reason. I called him and, well, here he is.”

Ryan looks down at the floor beneath him. Your heart is speeding up once more, and Noah seems to have noticed because he presses his index finger into the pulse point beneath the hinge of your jaw. The pressure is ginger at best, but it somehow manages to keep you from going in to hysterics once more.

You look back at Noah to see him already watching you closely. Your breath hitches slightly when you notice the familiar loving shine in his irises. God, you have missed him so much.

Noah has one knee bent and resting on the couch, with the other dangling over the edge. Over the course of the attack you had crumpled into a ball — a familiar aspect of these things for you — and Noah had managed to peel away your arms from where they had wrapped around your legs like a vise. He had entered your personal bubble in hopes of helping you. One hand of his hands still held yours with a secure grip.

You felt an overwhelming need to wrap Noah up in a thankful, loving hug. But you still felt Ryan’s presence.

Mulling over your decision in your head kept the room silent. It took longer than you would have wanted, but you knew it was a necessary one to make in the first place.

“Ryan.” You shift just enough to face Ryan more directly. He lifts his head as you force your arm to move. You slowly reach for one of his hands, gathering the strength to talk. “Thank you for being here. It means so much to me.”

Ryan doesn’t say anything initially. First, he rakes his gaze over to Noah, a glare overcoming him.

“I didn’t do anything, Y/N,” he bites out. “All I did was call the ex.”

You feel Noah tense, but he doesn’t speak.

“I’m gonna leave now,” Ryan says, finally stepping away from the couch. “I’m glad you’re okay, Y/N.”

As Ryan heads for the door, you call out, “I’ll call you.”

With his hand already on the doorknob, Ryan stops to look at you. His gaze softens as you make eye contact.

“No. Don’t worry about it,” he tells you. His words are quiet and tinged with a tense of sadness. He gives you a small smile. “This was really nice. I’ll see you around.”

Then Ryan is gone.

And you’re alone with Noah.

Silence sits over you like a weighted blanket. Sitting in the dead quiet with Noah has always been relaxing and comfortable, because there would be times you would lay your head down on his chest and listen to his steady heartbeat. At times like those neither of you had any responsibilities or stresses. You simply existed together in your own little world.

But there is an underlying tension this time around. You’re still angled towards the front door and you can feel Noah watching you. His pinky brushes your collarbone, and it takes all of your remaining strength to suppress a shiver.

Then Noah’s hand slips from your neck, and you can’t help but miss the sudden vacancy.

“Y/N. Can we talk about this?”

Noah’s voice is quiet. His soft tone is tainted with something akin to anger, but you can’t be sure. Maybe it’s sadness or confusion. Either way, you turn your head towards him.

Strands of his dark hair are dangling in front of his face. There’s an unidentifiable glint in his eyes that has your heart stuttering. You suddenly have a desire to reach forward and touch the tattoos on his hands and neck, everything else covered in black clothing. And you think you’re successful at resisting that feeling, when you’ve slowly counted to ten in your head. But you can never rein yourself in very well when it comes to Noah.

You turn to fully face him. He watches your every move with a confused air about him. His body stills completely when you finally stretch your arm out, your fingertips brushing the red apple at his throat. You swear he shivers slightly when your fingernails graze his inked skin.

Noah lets you touch his tattoos without a word or twitch of a muscle. With every movement you make he watches you like a hawk, like he’s going to tear you limb from limb at any moment. You have done this countless times over the years, but something about this time feels different.

This goes on for only a few short minutes. Until Noah grasps your wrists and gently pushes your arms away from him. He keeps his hold on you.

“Y/N.”

Your throat constricts slightly in apparent preparation to cry once more. But you swallow thickly as you manage to meet his eye.

“Noah.”

He tightens his jaw. He lowers his eyebrows slightly as he considers you and your slightly patronizing reply of his name.

“We’re gonna talk about this,” he tells you. “Right now. Whether you like it or not. We need to talk.”

And he’s right, you know he is. Though you don’t know how this is going to go.

You shakily take a deep breath anyways. You nod once, gesturing as best as you can despite your momentary shackles for Noah to speak.

“Why? Why did you break up with me?” Oh god, you’re hoping he didn’t feel your pulse spike at his question. “I mean, you gave me a reason, but we both know it was kinda bullshit. You didn’t tell me the truth. So can you tell me the truth now?”

Fuck. You can’t do this.

I’m sorry, Noah. But I can’t do this anymore.

There’s a pulsing behind your eye. Your head is pounding and your cheeks are tear-stained. And you would be an even bigger liar if you restated what you said that night. ‘Cause by the fucking gods above, you were all in from the beginning. You knew you were in love with Noah a long time before you actually started dating. You have been by his side through the worst years of his life, and he has been there for yours.

You have missed him more than anything this past month. Even while hanging out with Ryan something felt off. Your brain was too hung up on Noah to even fathom forgetting him or replacing him.

So what’s the point of hiding anything else from Noah, since he has seen and witnessed every dark and ugly and rotten thing you hold inside? He saw all the bad and evil that reside deep, deep down and still chose to stay.

But you have been broken for a long time, even considering how much Noah has helped you. There is something damaged beyond repair within. You’re not sure if it’s worth keeping anyone around anymore in order to try and fix it. It seems pointless, really.

Noah is still watching you. His hands are firm around your wrists as he waits for your answer.

“I’ve never been good enough for you,” you finally say, and it feels like a weight is lifted from your chest. “You how damaged I am. You have seen all of the shit that keeps me up at night and you’ve experienced firsthand how violent my panic attacks are. Why the fuck did you stay? You’re Noah fucking Sebastian. Lead singer of a successful metal-core band, who could have anyone he wants. And you chose me? I guess I just don’t see why.

“I’m not worth the hassle or worry. Everyone wastes their time with me. I’m not getting better — I can’t get better! So I removed the variable that was the issue. I removed the problem so you wouldn’t have to. I willingly took the swan dive, ‘cause sooner or later I was gonna self-destruct. I’m a fucking time-bomb, and you know it.”

Throughout your explanation Noah stared at you. He had made no attempts to interject or talk down on your feelings. He listened intently, and your heart aches.

But you can’t take the staring any longer. You wrench your hands away from Noah and stand from the couch. You wobble on your feet for a moment before you regain your balance, shuffling to the other side of the living room.

You turn to look at Noah to see him slumped against the back couch cushions. His arms are crossed over his chest and his eyes are still tracking you. Both feet are planted on the carpet.

“Would you stop looking at me like that?” you demand. “Like—Like I’m being irrational. Or, like—“

“Like I actually care about you?”

You fall silent at Noah’s interruption. His face is nearly expressionless, but you detect the minuscule frown on his lips.

“I’m not gonna stop caring about you, Y/N,” Noah continues, his voice low. You think he may be angry. “It’s not something I’m interested in doing. Because, yeah, I’ve seen all of the fucked up shit inside of you, but you’ve also seen it from me. You chose to stay too, right? So why would I want someone who doesn’t harbor a little bit of pain or agony? That makes you human, and that makes you you. ‘Cause believe me when I say that I am in love with you. Baggage and everything. But I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Tears had begun falling from your eyes again. Your lips trembled slightly at Noah’s declaration. Your body was shaking.

You watch as Noah gets to his feet. You can’t help but fold your arms around your torso as he slowly approaches you. The blood pumping through your veins and roaring in your ears is deafening.

“I can’t promise I won’t hurt you.”

Noah pauses a few paces away at your words. He meets your eye for just a moment before you’re locking your gaze onto the floor.

“Okay. Then don’t promise. I don’t care if you hurt me, ‘cause I’m gonna stay either way.”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“What if…” You sniffle as you tighten your hold on yourself. “What if I don’t want you to stay?”

“That’s not happening.”

“Noah, I—“

Noah takes the steps forward to reach you. “The only reason you don’t want me to stay is so you can convince yourself everything was your fault,” he told you. His voice is still low in pitch and peppered with a certain hardness. “I’m not gonna let that happen. None of this is your fault.”

Your instincts are screaming at you to fall into Noah. Every inch of your body is berating you to let this all go and let Noah back in. You both need each other, you know that. So why is this so goddamn hard?

His words hang in the air like a heavy fog. Your vision is blurry from tears. Your heart is nearly beating out of your chest. This has to end.

“Get out.”

Noah recoils a fraction at your unexpected statement. “What?”

“I said get out. I made my decision, and you need to respect that.”

“I’m not leaving.”

More tears cascade down your face. Every single one feels like acid eating away at your skin as you raise your head to look Noah in the eye.

“I’m not going to ask you again, Noah.”

Noah doesn’t protest. But you can see the tears in his eyes as he eventually backs away and goes for the front door. You’re shaking uncontrollably as you watch him open the door, chance a glance back at you, then leave. He gently shuts it behind him.

A void opens up in your chest. It yawns wide, a blackened abyss growing bigger and bigger inside of you, threatening to consume your soul.

God, what the fuck have you done? You are so in love with him, and you just let him leave like that. You can’t even begin to believe that you’re this fucking stupid.

But Noah left because he loves you. And that makes the tears fall harder and faster.

You can’t imagine a life where he isn’t there. Frankly, you don’t want to imagine such a life. In every past, present and future you have ever conjured up in your head, Noah has always been there. And you just ruined any chance of fulfilling a better future for both of you.

This can’t happen.

You’re not going to let this happen.

Without thinking you dash for the door and fling it open. At the other end of the fairly short hallway, near the elevator, is Noah. His head is hung and he’s holding his phone. You can’t see his face clearly, but there’s a foreign rigidness to his body that you wish you never have to see again.

“Noah!”

And at first Noah doesn’t react. Then he’s twisting his neck to look your way. The sight of you has him straightening his posture and sliding his phone back in to his pocket. You can see the rise and fall of his chest, a certain anxiety about him that hurts your heart.

Then you let out a loud sob, and Noah is racing for you without hesitation. He gathers you in his arms before your body crumples to the floor. You latch your fingers onto the fabric of his shirt as you cry against his shoulder. One of his arms is fastened around your abdomen while the other is along your shoulders, that hand slipping through your locks of hair and carelessly gripping at the roots.

“I’m sorry,” you sob against his body. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. God, I’m so stupid. I am so sorry—“

Noah cuts you off. “No, Y/N, do not apologize,” he tells you, his own voice thick with tears. “You’re not stupid, either. You were trying to do the right thing for you, and that’s okay. Never apologize for that. Okay?”

You manage to nod once. Then he’s carrying you back into your apartment in the direction of your room. He carefully sets you down on your bed and immediately joins you. There’s blankets around you and Noah is holding you tightly.

You bury your face in his neck with your arms coiled around his shoulders. His arms hold you against him, his head resting beside yours on the pillows.

The pillows were beginning to lose the smell of Noah’s cologne. You were worried they would have trapped the scent of Ryan instead over the past couple weeks, but all you feel is Noah. Every sense is overwhelmed by him and his presence. The feeling of his body against yours feels like coming home once and for all.

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

♱ foliosriot 2023

[niichanism]

wanted to put this fic Somewhere lol it’s uhhhh that “what if ace got sold into slavery in Marie Geoise instead of being executed except long lost brother Sabo is (somehow) in deep cover as a CD there and impulsively pilfers money from the revolution funds to buy and protect his brother” logistically i run into problems w this concept but i do think like. childhood friends fake dating except it’s high stakes fake master/slave is like. 1. potential funny 2. hot 3. compelling in that acesabo are living in their own actual personal hells together shfhdd

tw: mob character/ace attempted SA, non-graphic maiming of dick, ace honorable suicide ideation ig, sabo…… just poor sabo lol, the cd slave brand thing soRRY ACE idk the usual “i don’t like spoilering much so if you’re sensitive don’t read this it’s borderline dead dove”

————-

In the span of a week, Ace had gone from being Blackbeard’s captive to the World Government's prize, and finally, unexpectedly, into the greasy hands of professional slavers. 

That was a twist he hadn't expected. He couldn’t quite get his head around it. 

Ace much preferred the rough touch of pirates or marines to this sickening cushiness, treated with care while strung up like meat. They bathed him in sea water. He was so nauseous he could barely twitch his limbs. His skin only recoiled wherever they washed away dirt or tended to wounds from the fight. He was scrubbed pink, patched, or soothed where every blemish would be. His ribs were still broken. Almost good as new, the lackey had reported to her overseers.

As confusing as it was infuriating. Then, somehow, reading the lusterless eyes of the other captives, he understood. They were gagged like Ace was. They had the faint, forlorn expressions of long-term prisoners. But how neat and tidy they were– their hair, skin, and even what little clothes they had were as well-kept as the circumstances allowed. Again, Ace’s body thrummed with a knock-out combo of adrenaline and disgust. He recalled Sabo saying that nobles don't care about anything but appearances. If it can’t improve their status, it's worthless to them. 

Ace would rather die than be some dolled up or dressed down status symbol for the rich. He'd rather jump and let the ocean take him. He’d rather have fallen in battle to a scumbag like Teach or even met his end on the navy’s chopping block, flipping Garp the bird one last time. 

Then, the silver lining— he’d see Sabo again, at least. There was always the chance that he’d find an opening once they hit landfall. If he could, he’d burn this place to a crisp and take all these poor folks to far greener pastures, one way or another. He just had to keep his wits together. No matter what, he wasn’t going to let anyone buy him. 

Or if they did get that far, he’d make sure they regretted it. For now, the issue was that all the adrenaline and disgust had nowhere to go. He kept his ears open for any hints as to when they’d finally reach this mystery destination, because the boredom was beginning to gnaw at him like rats. Eventually one of the trader lackeys came swaggering up to him. Ace had a really good fucking sense for when someone was looking to pick a fight. The guy had a bit of a beer belly and the seediest possible leer, two beady eyes on pallid sailor skin. 

“So this is really him…” he said, gruff and low. “Not bad at all.”

The man tipped his face up at the chin. Ace tossed it out of his hold, ignoring him otherwise. The man chuckled. The only other slaver in the room glanced over and growled. “Careful with the merchandise–”

“Relax,” said the first man, annoyed. “I’m not gonna do anything to damage him– if he behaves, that is. I’m just gonna feed him something.” Gag. It was worse because he was hungry. Ace set his jaw as best he could around the ball gag. If he thought of all the scumbags he’d dealt with up to now, he felt like he could crush anything between his teeth. 

The man wrenched a hand into his hair and jerked him forward. Manacles and chains trapped Ace’s knees on the floor of a cage. The man stood just outside the bars with a taunting look.  “Y’see, Fire Fist, I work hard, and so I’ve got this little game,” he explained, as if Ace gave a shit. “I get a kick out of testing the goods before we get to Marie Geoise. I get a little spin before even the Celestial Dragons get their hands on ‘em.” First, that the trader was already palming his crotch was disgusting, but secondly– Ace closed in on one particular detail. Marie Geoise? For a moment his mouth went slack, saliva pooling beneath the gag. The trader’s grip tightened in Ace’s bath-damp waves, threatening to rip hair from his scalp. His mind was still spinning: Marie Geoise. Celestial Dragons. The last puzzle pieces falling into place. If that was what they were doing, then… “Man, I could talk about it for years if Gold Roger’s son sucked my cock,” the slaver chuckled, letting go of Ace’s head. He squeezed his eyes shut. 

Fuuuuuck. His bounty had always seemed a bit suspect, shooting up when he’d done nothing of note to earn it. In the back of his mind, he’d sometimes wonder if the marines knew. 

 There was a clinking and rustling as the man popped his fly open and lowered his trousers.

 It was so outrageous, so beyond what anyone would have fucking dared to do to him, that Ace only felt a numb sort of shock first. He didn’t want to look at the filthy thing, already hard and eager. Marie Geoise. Celestial Dragons. Gold Roger’s son. The man shuffled closer to the bars, then manhandled Ace’s head low so he could smear the tip on his cheek. Ace’s eyes went wide. The rage hit him right after. “Yeah, a pretty thing like you will need the practice,” the trader drawled. “If the dragons don’t tear you to shreds first. Nasty fucks, them.”  Everyone knew the Celestial Dragons were self-righteous, inhumane sacks of crap who treated anyone else like dirt. Everyone knew that their slaves had it worst of all, beaten and broken with a snowball’s chance in hell of escaping. And it seemed that soon, everyone would know that Ace was Gol D. Roger’s last remaining flesh and blood. “You’re shaking, sweetheart,” the slaver jeered. “A big, bad pirate–? Hilarious. Not so scary without your devil fruit power, are ya?”

Off came the ball gag. The first thing Ace did was spit. A thick, leathery thumb pried into his mouth. Ace sputtered, fought, then bit down– fuck, he was hungry. The man’s glove prevented the drawing of blood, though he did make a small grunt of discomfort and tore his hand away.

 “Don’t need my devil fruit to fuck you up,” Ace hissed. He glared at the dick half a foot away from his face. Ace had sucked a lot of cock in his time. Bigger ones, smaller ones. Sometimes drunk, sometimes as a penalty for losing a bet– fair was fair– but this was something else. The man hunched over to indicate the heavy metal collar around Ace’s neck. Ace felt his spine chill. He missed a few hours ago when he was content to wonder things like when do we get there and where did my necklace go, aw. Marie Geoise meant that the game had changed somewhat.“You know about this? I’m sure someone explained it to you,” he said roughly. His hard, flinty eyes sparkled with glee. “Try to take it off, or even touch it a certain way, and it’ll explode. Splatters your fuckin’ brains on the wall. I’ve seen it before– gruesome stuff. Real shite way to go.” Ace ran his tongue over his teeth, glaring daggers. Not much to look at, though, so he checked around with some choice words in his throat. A few other gagged folks were either watching with bated breath or pointedly looking away. The only other free man in the room was halfway out the door, glancing back like this foul display was only worth an exasperated shake of the head. 

“I see,” Ace said, eyes flicking back. “Brains on the wall, huh.”

“There’s just me and you right now, Ace. Could always say it was an unfortunate accident,” the slaver said. “If you get what I’m saying, then open wide.” Ace resisted as best he could with that steel grip in his hair again. The power of the seastone cuffs had long seeped into his veins, making him sleepy. Gritting his teeth was the most force he could exert– eventually he locked his jaw and stopped struggling. “It’d be easy,” the slaver pressed. He touched anywhere he wanted, hair, lips, freckled cheeks.  Ace hadn’t felt clean to begin with, but now… now he wanted to vomit on this guy’s shoes. “Just one press of a button, one tug of that collar, and boom. World keeps spinning. I can’t imagine anyone would miss scum like you.”

A rough squeeze on either side of his jaw finally forced Ace’s mouth open. With one last grimace, he gave up. Let his tongue hang out. The man’s brutish face softened with satisfaction. Ace loathed allowing even that much.  “That’s more like it, baby,” the slaver crooned, grabbing his cock and jerking it. “Yeah. You play my little game nice, and we’ll keep your head on your shoulders. How’s that sound?” Ace scowled, but he was so visibly tired. This gave way to a slow, slow nod, a sigh– and then his stomach vaulting as he opened his mouth. Again, not the first time he’d had a dick in there. Though there was the chance it’d be his last. The trader moved with concentration, hot flesh sliding past Ace’s open lips. There was a groan, and both meaty hands pawed at Ace’s head. Ace didn’t wait a second. He didn’t suck for an instant. He moved his tongue out of the way and then bit down as hard as he possibly could. The scream was delightful. Nobody could look away after that. 

That beer belly wrenched away from his teeth as quickly as possible, whole body toppling back onto the dirty ship floor. The big idiot shrieked, holding his groin and rolling. 

 Ace had to laugh, then grin again with blood on his teeth. He raised his voice enough to be heard over those wails of pain. 

“Hey, go on and do it, you think I give a shit?” he said, then spat out the taste of iron. He tilted his head back, offering his own capital punishment with brazen ease. “I’ve got my pride. I’d rather die a man than a coward.” 

He got a lively string of expletives in response. Didn’t do the guy much good, since he seemed unable to get off the ground just yet. Ace’s head was still very much attached to his shoulders, for better or worse. 

The screaming was pretty entertaining, or at least Ace’s fellow would-be slaves seemed to think so– he searched for eye contact in the dim light and found a few sure smiles. And a few very worried looks. Well, Ace hadn’t really calculated his odds on this one. 

Morbidly curious, he leaned over to check the damage. From what glimpses he could see– yikes. “Damn, that thing’ll never work again!” he hollered in a pitying, cheerful voice. “Go on, waste me for it. Unless you don’t have the– the balls?” That seemed pretty funny to him at the moment, and he burst out laughing. 

“Should’ve bought me dinner first, asshole!” 

“I’ll fucking kill you–”

“Do it,” Ace goaded. It was impossible to stop himself. Self-preservation had never been a strong point for him. At least, he thought, he’d go out with a good laugh, doing something he loved— picking a fight. With all that blood rushing in his ears, he wanted to believe that he was content with that. 

Better to go down as a free man, without troubling anyone, and before facing a whole world that would know exactly how and why to hate him. 

With a howl of rage, the dickless wonder tried to maneuver onto his knees, get closer to the bars of the cage. Fever-brained, Ace imagined that he’d only have to yank at the collar a certain way to spark whatever demonic mechanism ended in explosions. Truly a shite way to go– not because of the gore, but the injustice. It made him angry. Maybe he’d bite this asshole again. Light cascaded into the darkness from the door. Two other slavers arrived, no doubt summoned by the screaming. The man from before walked over, surveying that Ace was still chained down– he very much was– then he tsk’d at the mess. He nudged the fallen with his boot, cross with disgust and sympathy pain. “I told you this would happen someday,” he said. “Why stick your dick in the bitey part of the pirate?” Ace laughed, breathless. His mouth was so dry that it hurt. The blood hadn’t helped.  Predictably, there was another slew of vicious threats, and Ace was beginning to realize that he’d mentally prepared himself for nothing. Nobody was getting any closer to that kill switch on his collar. 

There wasn’t any relief in that. Just dread, doubled when one of the other slavers spoke again. “Moron, we���re on strict orders to deliver that one to the World Nobles. That’s a done deal– you should’ve known you couldn’t touch–”

Eugh. The stomach ache was back. Ace dipped his head, not wanting to look at any of that anymore. There was some struggling. Whether someone approached the kill switch or not, Ace couldn’t bring himself to care. “You can’t lay a hand on him!” He squeezed his eyes shut. He had been untouchable for a hundred different reasons before all this. And after this, probably, not so much. Marie Geoise. He remembered the rage welling up in him the one or two times he’d seen the deadened-red slave brand on a survivor. Sure, he reminded himself, there were survivors. 

Self-preservation had never been a strong point of his. “Fire Fist, no rations ‘til you’re on death’s fucking door,” came a harsh voice. Ace spat again.  The door slammed shut, leaving the ship’s human cargo in the sparse light of one hanging lamp. Ace breathed out. “Whew. Fuck.” A few good-humored huffs later, he noticed something:

In all the commotion, the slave traders failed to gag him again. Little blessings. Ace breathed– slightly– more easy. 

“Sorry for all the noise, everyone,” he said. In other cages, in other chains, they blinked back at him. He was winding down, but he laughed again, near croaking. “Damn, I hope they’re all stupid enough to try that.” 

Maybe he could take out a few World Nobles that way. Justice for Sabo. He’d probably think that was pretty funny. 

—

It was incredible what you could do by shouting increasingly high numbers.

That was the kind of senseless world the Celestial Dragons inhabited. From his despicable place in the audience and with dread heavy in his gut, Sabo watched the guards yank Ace to his feet and drag him away. Sabo didn’t sit down. The auctioneer’s voice rang in his head: We have a winning bid! Gold Roger’s son, Portgas D. Ace, to Saint Robspierre! Hearing that esteemed name was like a ripple in a pond, a jerk of a trigger. It always took that extra split second for Sabo to remember that that was him, and it had never haunted him quite as much as it did just then. Currents of relief and distress canceled each other out. Sabo felt numb, heart pounding in his ears, knees locked up where he stood. On either side of him, World Nobles lifted their heads to survey him with open disdain. “Congratulations, Saint Robspierre,” a beady-eyed woman simpered, accompanied by her nodding, useless husband. “How fun for you.” “Thank you,” Sabo replied with mechanical ease, a glass smile. He couldn’t be in this space a minute longer. “I think I’ll go look at him.” The perfect balance of civility and entitlement. It was a surprise that this quaint, simple rudeness was more the norm here than not, but he’d adjusted. He felt dozens and dozens of eyes on him as he reached the staircase aisles. He ignored them, shoulders rolled back and head held high. Guards fell into line behind him. Another irritating norm.

He didn’t want an entourage if he was going to meet his brother under circumstances like these. Still, he had to go. For a thousand reasons, he needed to see Ace as soon as possible. That wasn’t slave auction protocol, but he could do whatever he wanted here. Anything except the right thing. * Keeping his face neutral when faced with his long-lost brother was more difficult than he’d thought it would be. He always hated this iciness he had to let in. At the moment even his blood was frozen solid. Of course the World Nobles’ auction house had a room for branding people. Sabo knew this was coming, but his vision was blurring anyway. He didn’t think it would be so soon. He thought he’d have more time. 

Ace was still completely naked with his back to the room. Under grease-shiny dark waves of hair, there was the clear buckled leather of the gag pulled tight. Those seastone cuffs strung him up near spread-eagle. It looked torturous. The painful part hadn’t even started yet. 

Like so many times before, all of Sabo’s fury channeled into his fists. Now, it all felt like too much for mortal knuckles and palms, even with gloves dulling the sensation. It was like his bones creaked. He couldn’t focus on anything but the pain, the red in his vision, Whitebeard’s jolly roger splayed and trembling across his brother’s broad back. He could use Dragon Claw and kill everyone else there. He searched the room for the key to Ace’s cuffs. Maybe he could break them? Even in deep cover, it wasn’t like he’d forgotten how to use armament haki. Escape the auction hall with Ace, and then– Sabo squeezed his eyes shut. And then what? Get the godforsaken “holy” land shut down, with a thousand marines and admirals on their ass? Ace probably wasn’t in the best shape to be thrown into a mess like that. And it would be a mess. His starting plan was less reckless, sure, but there was an increasing chance that it was going to make him throw up, crack open, crack something. 

The branding irons were lined up on the wall. The fire was stoked. The three or so men in the room stiffened up at the sight of him, and lowered their heads in immediate deference. It made Sabo violently ill this time. “You’re going to brand him?” he asked. One of the men lifted his head in a rush. “Saint Robspierre, thank you for the honor of your business–” “Are you going to brand him?” Sabo asked again. It astounded him how out of control he sounded.  But it was nothing worth worrying about when the men ducked their heads again. “No, Sir– of course– he will be branded, but we understand our esteemed clientele like to participate– we were waiting– but of course we can begin at your leisure—”

Infuriating. Sabo glanced over at Ace just to watch the soft heave of his back, the rise and fall that felt like his last tether to sanity. “Quiet,” Sabo said. He needed to think. It often worked to his advantage that people weren’t used to questioning Celestial Dragons on anything. So far removed from humans, indeed. He walked closer to Ace with a knot in his throat, head pounding. His approaching footsteps made Ace struggle again anew, little grunts of protest slipping past the gag. Sabo paused at his side, looking for injuries, half-afraid to look at his face. One glimpse of freckles was enough. Any more and he wasn’t sure his act would hold up. He could question the need for a slave brand, play it like he wanted his new toy just the way it was. Marking Celestial Dragon property was a law, yet laws could be overturned at a whim. The issue was not the rules but the unspoken, sick, crazed rot of this place.

 Mercy was weakness. Empathy was below them. Any significant deviance from the status quo was unacceptable. Any sign of anything abnormal hit the rumor mill and rattled it for days, down a grapevine so tense and maddening that Sabo understood it’d bite him in the ass within hours. 

If he asked to skip the branding, that would only warrant enough unwanted attention to make everything else harder. It was already going to be a tough ask to lay low with the pirate king’s son on a leash– because that was how they’d advertised it, of course, making the Celestial Dragons froth at the mouth with interest. It’d been even worse when they saw him, too, because he was– the wanted posters didn’t do him justice. No, they wanted as little attention as possible.

Sabo turned around. “I’ll do it,” he said simply, carelessly.

“Of course, Sir– if it’s no trouble to you–” He crossed the room, gliding his gloved hand down the pole of black iron with that hateful symbol at the end. Was he really going to do this? It was no question that Ace could handle the pain, Sabo thought. And if it was up to him, he could at least ensure a light touch, a lack of unchecked sadism. It made sense. Unfortunately, it made sense. He’d make it up to Ace no matter what. Beg if he needed to. Ace would understand. Ace would understand, right? “If it pleases this Celestial Dragon,” one of the auction house men said, “you’ll want to hold it over the coals until it is bright red. Press evenly over the skin– just beneath the shoulder blades is customary, Sir.” Sabo searched for the smallest possible brand and took the iron off the wall. It was much lighter than a pipe, yet it felt a thousand times harder to hold. 

“This is your first purchased slave, is it not, Saint Robspierre?” Sabo looked up to tell one of these low-class bastards to fuck off with the small talk, only to freeze in his tense, neutral expression at the joyful look on Saint Martine’s face. Three Celestial Dragons stood in the doorway. Right, Sabo could do anything he wanted under this cover only because all of these soulless elites could do the same. Ace jostled his chains at every end. Sabo even couldn’t imagine how pissed off he was if Sabo was this pissed just breathing the same air as them. Why was this suddenly a party? It seemed much more likely in that moment that he really would kill someone rather than lay a fucking finger on Ace.

This smug-faced World Noble fancied himself on speaking terms with Sabo because of the time they’d spent together. Time that had turned into deals. Deals that had turned into laundering money back to the Revolutionary Army– how smug Sabo had felt when his targets were providing information and resources toward their own downfall. 

It couldn’t come soon enough. “Yes,” Sabo replied. It was like the muscles of his face had a mind of their own: he even managed to smile again. “I couldn’t pass up the chance.”

“I don’t blame you,” one of the nobles chuckled. 

“As long as you share,” sneered another. Her nose wrinkled. “That one deserves every punishment we can think of. I can’t believe they even allowed Roger’s devil spawn to live that long. What was the navy thinking?” 

“Incompetents. Naturally, it falls to us to rid the world of that criminal’s blood.”

“Just sharing air with it is vile, really,” said the old man. The ignorant, cold disgust on their faces made Sabo nearly tremble with rage. “Vermin like that need to pay for every breath it takes until it’s begging for death–” “It would be a waste to rip him to pieces just yet,” Sabo cut in, his voice like steel. He circled haki away from his hands and let his hatred for the Celestial Dragons color his voice. “I’ll be training him first. Trash like this must be made to understand their place.” Sorry, Ace, he thought vehemently. Just a little longer, then you’ll never have to see these fucking people again. In that regard, at least, Ace was the lucky one. The trio laughed. “Of course, Robspierre. With your tastes… I’m surprised you didn’t indulge sooner. But there are finer specimen with… less abhorrent blood.”

Sabo’s blood boiled. He turned. The sight of Ace suffering was tantamount to setting his eyes on fire, but he just focused on that rise and fall. That was what mattered. These rotten bastards could yap all they want, the coddled little dogs that they were, but they weren’t going to so much as touch his brother. 

“But I indulge plenty,” Sabo replied, offering one last tight-lipped smile. He was fairly certain he understood what he was being lobbied for. “When I get bored of him, I’ll keep you all in mind, of course. It’s hardly fair of me to have all of the fun.”   Their mouths curled up. Good. They’d scurry back to their equally rotten friends and maintain Sabo’s reputation. Stay out of his hair for a while until he could figure out how to best ship Ace out of his place.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I was about to …” With a heavy exhale, Sabo wandered towards the fire, dull branding iron in hand. “Ooh!” shrilled the woman. “I want to do it.” “He’s mine,” Sabo said icily, stabbing the brand into the coals with a little too much strength. He watched scorching light engulf the metal and wildly lick at the sides of the pit. He imagined the whole of Marie Geoise inside that fire. “Now, now. Sometimes watching is just as rewarding as doing the work,” Saint Martine conversationally told his friends. “And it is Robspierre’s very first time, no?” At this point, it was better to ignore them. He didn’t want this moment to have an audience. He didn’t want it to happen at all. But according to his plan, this was the single big obstacle before he could shelter Ace deep in his assigned estate. Better to get it over with, even with those invasive, beady eyes on him. He was going to throw up if this went on any longer than it had to. He checked that Ace’s gag was still on, that he’d have something to bite into. He quickly surveyed the toned canvas of Ace’s back, taken up so wholly by that skull and bones. Sabo had a lot of curiosity about that– about his brothers in general. Just learning about them would be the privilege of his life if Ace ever opened up to him again. 

  Sabo hadn’t been so nauseated and dizzy in years. The brand was about the size of his fist. Deciding the placement for Ace’s sake was difficult. The chest would hurt. Limbs were too far removed from tradition; it’d be pointless. The jolly roger must’ve been important to Ace, so he had to leave it untarnished. On the shoulders, it’d be painful and harder to hide. 

The chains jangled. He was panting, horribly tense. Sabo winced. That was going to make it hurt worse. 

Get it over with. Sabo squeezed his eyes shut. Ace, I’m sorry. 

It lasted two seconds and felt like an eternity. He had a steady touch. The sound and smell of sizzling flesh repulsed him. His chest throbbed. Knowing that this was a brand meant to imprison the body and soul beyond help, that this was Ace being so crudely violated– it felt like the worst thing Sabo had ever done in his life. 

Ace didn’t scream. At most, there was a deep, clipped groan, almost like a throaty sigh. Sabo quickly removed the iron, frantic eyes scanning over his work. He’d at least succeeded in leaving a lighter touch– the geometric dragon’s claw was a marred light pink on the firm flesh just above his ass and below the small of his back. With any hope, it’d be barely noticeable once it healed.

 Sabo sighed, too. “You can’t be done already,” one of the World Nobles gasped behind him, dripping with sincere disbelief. Celestial Dragons were not just heartless; they were also so petty, having nothing but sick tradition to cling to. “You have to make him scream, Robspierre.” “While we’re at it, melt that filthy pirate insignia off his back–” “Delightful idea– we could also carve it up!” “Why, that mark’s far too light–” “As I said,” Sabo bit out, eyes blazing, “it would be a waste to maim his body before using it. And why darken the mark? Everyone ought to already know he’s a slave. He’s never leaving this place.” 

His throat was near painfully dry. Everyone looked at him with bated breath, shocked by the tension. He’d let his haki slip half on accident. It cramped the room, intimidating every other inhabitant who only had the barest subconscious awareness of it. “When I’m done with him, do as you please,” Sabo said. “But I’ll appreciate complete privacy to better inspect my—“ His voice went too tight; he started again. “You wouldn’t want to miss the rest of the auction, would you?” 

[leahsgf]

hey!! i love your writing omg, could you please try write some relationship headcanons for jackie x reader? thanks <3

dating jackie taylor headcanons

pairings. jackie taylor x reader

finally writing for my favourite character!! to say i got carried away with this is an understatement…i’m apologising now! thank you so much for this request!

-

for the entirety of her life jackie had been battling with almost two versions of herself, who she truly is and who people perceive her as. it was drilled into her, the need and ‘importance’ to have an uphold a reputation, to be a leader, an example.

but she also has a huge heart and wanted nothing more than to give in to her deepest desires, and unlearn the way of thinking that her parents had pretty much birthed her with.

this would definitely be something that complicated and blurred the lines in her relationships in both platonic and romantic form. she fought off her feelings for you for the longest time, instead allowing herself to settle for any boy that looked in her direction - convinced that it was what was ‘normal’ and that nobody truly loved their boyfriends, they just put up with them. she distanced herself from you massively, which strained your once close bond and had a huge impact on everyone around you, including the dynamic of the team and the way you played.

the tension between the pair of you bubbled up to the point that it was uncomfortable to even be in the proximity of one another, and the team decided to take matters into their own hands, confronting you both and refusing to play until you smoothed out whatever feelings you both were experiencing.

which is what led to the confessions from both sides and the beginning of your relationship.

when you first started dating, jackie was still very much reserved and preferred to keep the fact you were dating private, and only have the team know at first.

(who’s only issue with it was that they now all owed each-other considerable lumps of money after way too many bets)

if you were on the team too, there would literally be a ban on you guys from being within eachother’s eyeline in practices because i mean there’s only so many times you can take a soccer ball to the face and brush it off as anything other than you were too busy staring at jackie to be paying attention to anything else.

jackie would also be incredibly protective over you on the field, in both practice and in games.

if you weren’t on the team, you may as well be. you’ll be sat in the stands for everything, even if it’s just them running over drills. you sit in the same place every time - jackie somehow had an exact seat reserved for you year round, you were almost too scared to ask exactly how - so every time she needed a little hope, or silent reassurance, she’d look your way, and you’d be there.

“my little good luck charm”

one thing about jackie is that she is quite literally the most loving being on the planet. and she will not hesitate to show you it. she loves to be held by you, clinging to you almost like a koala. to hold your hand as you drive together, and playing with your rings as you talk about anything and everything.

jackie loves to take pictures of you, and a lot of them at that. no matter how long you’ve been together, best believe she’ll be pointing her finger at you, insisting you stand still because “you look so pretty” and grinning behind the flash of the camera at any given moment. she’d always been that way, for as long as you’d known her. you guys literally had a physical documentation of practically your entire lives together, from the first day in daycare when you had paint smeared across your face and four year old jackie was half laughing, half trying to eat a crayon on the stool next to you, to each of your date nights when she would stop a passer by and ask them to snap your picture, whilst the pair of you posed, completely and utterly wrapped up in each other’s love.

one day, she would gift you a huge photo album, full to the brim with every single picture you’d ever taken together, and her little annotations of what she was thinking about you in them.

alongside her love for the physical, she loved to do lots of little things to show her love for you like this, whether that be picking up your favourite food whenever you were feeling down, or slipping little notes and doodles through the gaps of your locker for you to read in between classes.

simply being around jackie lifts your mood. she knows exactly how to make you smile and is incredibly sweet and affectionate. she knows you completely inside and out and is your biggest comfort without even realising it.

jackie would say she loves to share your clothes, you would say she loves to steal them. there are endless items of your wardrobe that you’re convinced are gone forever until she walks into the room wearing them randomly. you don’t mind it though, they look cuter on her.

she always buys you more to make up for it.

she also loves to match with you in any way possible, whether it be through matching necklaces, or even just the same sock colour.

she is the one who says ‘i love you’ for the first time. she blushed furiously and actually cried whilst doing so, even more when you said it back, and she still blushes like crazy every time you say it to her.

you heal and bring out a huge part of jackie that she had always repressed without even realising, and are literally ‘her missing piece’ as she calls you. you complete eachother, and balance each other out in ways that are completely indescribable. you also help her see what love is supposed to feel like, and what it has been all along.

over time, you slowly stop hiding your relationship, waiting until she was ready even though everyone could already tell you guys were together.

she’d wait for you after every class, and walk you to each one, her hand in yours.

she’d help you choose outfits for parties, and loved to show you off at any given opportunity.

jackie has your entire future planned out. she always has done, from your college dorm to your future apartment together. she could ramble for days about it and would even make boards if she could.

you wake up with her sprawled out flat on top of you every single morning without fail, no matter what position you fall asleep in. she is also an incredibly light sleeper, specifically when it comes to you touching her. you have to go to the bathroom or get water in the middle of the night so slightly shift her arms off of you? she will absolutely be sat wide awake waiting for you when you return, her eyes somehow even wider and an almost pout across her face.

her favourite thing in the world was to kiss you. to coat your face in her cherry flavoured lipgloss as she planted a trail of kisses from your forehead, down your cheeks to your jaw, leaving a couple on your neck before making her way back up again, pressing one final peck to the tip of your nose before eventually reaching your lips, as if it were a routine. which it was, she did the exact same every single time. one time, you thought it would be funny to turn away from the last kiss for just a second.

she sulked with you for WEEKS. you spent a stupid amount of money on ridiculously extravagant flower bouquets to make up for it.

[acourtofquietdreamers]

“Elain shouldn’t have to convince anyone that she belongs in the Night Court.” “Elain needs to leave the people that coddle her.” “Elain just needs to give Lucien a chance and she’ll realize he’s perfect for her.”

Elain is often criticized for being passive and not standing up for herself yet some people believe she shouldn’t fight for what she wants and what she believes in. She should just run away. She should just give in to the mating bond and give Lucien a chance. She should continue being passive.

I believe Elain’s growth would be more impactful if she continues down the path we’ve begun to see her go down where she passionately fights for what she wants and doesn’t back down. We may not have Elain’s POV yet, but Elain has made her feelings known on a couple subjects. I’m focusing on Elain’s words only because I do not believe others know what’s best for her.

Elain very confidently declared herself as a member of the Night Court.

When Feyre had offered to let her remain home, Elain had squared her shoulders and declared that she was a part of this court—and would do whatever was needed.

Should Elain abandon her declaration and leave the place she’s begun to build a life in because she looks plain in black? Or because Nesta thinks Spring is made for “someone like her”?

Or should she prove them wrong by earning her place within the court (cue Elain using her powers) and show the claws she’s been hinted to have?

Elain no longer wants to be coddled by her sisters and we see her stand up to them for the first time in ACOSF.

Elain remained in the doorway, her face pale but her expression harder than Nesta had ever seen it. “You do not decide what I can and cannot do, Nesta.”

“Shall I tend to my little garden forever?” When Nesta flinched, Elain said, “You can’t have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.”

Elain cut in sharply, “I am not a child to be fought over.”

But Elain said, “I went into the Cauldron, too, you know. And it captured me. And yet somehow all you think of is what my trauma did to you.”

Should Elain run away from this battle and leave her imperfect relationship with her sisters behind?

Or should she continue to address the issues in their relationship so they can come out stronger?

Elain has made it clear that the mating bond means nothing to her, regardless of others trying to convince her to give the “nice guy” a chance.

“You are his mate. Do you even know what that means?” “It means nothing,” Elain said, her voice breaking. “It means nothing. I don’t care who decided it or why they did—”

“You belong to him.” “I belong to no one. But my heart belongs to you.”

“He brought you a present.” Those doe-brown eyes turned toward me. Sharper than I’d ever seen them. “And that entitles him to my time, my affections?”

“No.” I blinked. “But he is a good male.” Despite our harsh words. Despite this Band of Exiles bullshit. “He cares for you.” “He doesn’t know me.”

Should Elain give in to the pressures of giving her mate a chance? Forget about her dream of a love that would trump even a mating bond?

Or should she fight for a love of her own choosing?

I don’t want Elain to give in. I don’t want her to be passive and let others make decisions for her. I want to see Elain surprise everyone and continue to fight.

[jjtheresidentbaby]

i’m so glad other people see nick as a cg + regressor i thought i was the only one

flip nick is so very real to me! and I’m using this ask as an excuse to make a headcanon post lol

Flip Nick Nelson headcanons

tagging: @beachreg

warnings: talk of canon events, mental health issues etc

When Caring:

mainly takes care of Imogen, it was a routine they already had before Nick got with Charlie as they were in the same friend group and even back then Nick was one of the nicer of the bunch

Nick doesn’t talk about his caring side until Imogen is comfortable enough to tell the rest of the group that she regressss

on a few odd occasions Nick watches over Tao when Nick first joins the group and while Tao claims he doesn’t like it at first, he’s totally lying

Nick forms such a soft spot for Tao & the other littles in the group

he likes to talk to Tara about caregiver problems™️ and she’s always there with advice or to just listen for a bit

he’s such a sweet caregiver, always willing to research whatever his little is involved in or struggling with

he puts his all into caring and takes such pride in watching over others

always has snacks, fidget toys, journals, games, books and anything else a little could need on hand

keeps a spare first aid kit in his locker just in case (Tao is very clumsy & Elle isn’t there at school so nicks had to step in at times)

When Little:

Charlie & Elle are his main caregivers but occasionally Tara will watch over him

not super clingy when he’s regressed but he does enjoy getting his hair played with & holding hands

lovesssss to draw & color when small

he’s mesmerized by basically everything Charlie or Elle do, he swears they’re magic or something

massive sweet tooth while small - but he loves fresh vegetables too

he’s more secretive/shy about his little side

he can get very anxious while small and gets into his own head a lot

he has a set journal for when he’s small so he can try and ground himself by writing things out (even if it’s not all spelled correctly)

he’s been trying to befriend Tori since day one of being regressed at the spring household, it’s a slow battle but Tori’s definitely losing

he’ll slip pictures he drew under her door and run off with Charlie to watch from behind the corner as she opens the door and looks around

such an outdoorsy kid & finds any reason to be running around his backyard or taking a trip to the park

him & Tao will film “movies” while they’re both small and they force the whole friend group into preforming parts

somehow worse at drums while small and atrocious on the clarinet per trying Tara’s

of course loves rugby while small but he also likes to have Darcy play volleyball with him like on the beach

superhero movies/books are a must while he’s small!

as much as Charlie complains about it, he indulges Nick and watches the marvel movies with Nick

he somehow gets Darcy & Imogen into them too and they all start to play superhero’s together

him & Imogen don’t regress together a lot as Nick likes to keep his little side & caregiving side pretty separate but when they do it absolutely Chaos with a capital C

can either be super well behaved or pretty mischievous

he offers to egg Ben or Harry’s house at least once a week while small

[bunji-enthusiast]

Can I request Tristan with a giant gf who’s jealous of Gawain and Isolde because they’re human size and she’s not and Tristan can’t pick her up and hug correctly since she’s so big??

Monachopsis

(n). the subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place.

Ugh, I didn’t really like how this turned out but I hope you liked it! Characters like Tristan and Isolode are certainly interesting to say the least, okay those are my two cents byeeee! ✨

Content || characters involved may be ooc, short story, 1,619 words total, one brief mention of real-world issues.

Being interlinked beyond the vast perceptions of time and space was something uniquely so close, unordinary yet so ordinary. That was in itself a majesty, perhaps a rarity. For many races, one can imagine the difficulty that comes for inter-racial relationships, again it’s perhaps a rarity – a sight to behold; but something that never truly comes to fruition without the opinions of external forces outside the relationship. 

Unfortunately, you’ve come to be a victim of such a thing. You were a giant, a proud member of your race. You were raised with morals ingrained and values meant to overthrow the thinking of anyone else in the process, yet it was all suddenly knocked down the day you met Tristan, the Prince of Liones. You don’t know how, or why — something about him drew you closer. 

You hated that so much, it was the constant reminder that you are a woman. A girl, yet you were also a giant. You hated all of it, but you never voiced these concerns to Tristan. Being a proud member of the Giant race meant you could handle things yourself, battles and even the mental ones. It was all in due part to your old-fashioned parents who raised you the old ways of the giant race, even with how estranged and toxic they were, they were still very old-fashioned. You had been raised with love and toughness, but memories of the harsher times had ingrained so deeply in your heart – the self-resentment still remained. 

Sometimes here and there, you eventually run into people of other races who aren’t shy of telling you what they feel. The effects of the Holy War and the constant racism had still lingered harshly throughout the races from what you’ve seen, it still gave you serious whiplash just from remembering such interactions. 

That’s an unfortunate difficulty to just merely exist, though there remains some deep-rooted hatred and evil. One can find love and peace, surround yourself with people who sincerely understand and love you with all their hearts. Which had led you to meeting Tristan, one day out on the plains. 

You were traveling, out and about. Honestly, you didn’t have any particular reason to do so. Only that you found traveling to be fun and exciting, and possibly seeing brand new beautiful sights that you haven’t before. Although some of your friends and family back at Mega Dozer (homeland of the Giants) were unsure of letting you leave in the first place, they reluctantly gave in when you argued; “This could be a good learning experience for me! Besides, it might be good that I am alone by myself.” 

In hindsight, you wished you would've said those words differently. Being alone by yourself was becoming quite the scary experience, but you trudged onward in order to better face your fears of being alone by yourself. 

Was it being alone that you were scared of though?

“I think i'm getting pretty close to somewhere,” You muttered, looking down at the map in your large hands. You squinted, albeit a little closer than you needed too. Yet something had suddenly snapped you out of your stupor, causing you to look down and seeing two small forms who bumped into you. 

“Hello! I’m so sorry for that.” One had apologized, your brows furrowed as you tried to make out the appearances of the two beings. One clad in gold and white armor, golden gleaming aura and impossibly imposing, which somehow had you impressed for a brief moment. The other appeared to have long silver-length hair and heterochromia, one green and the other being blue. You shook your head as you crouched down to properly get within ear-shot. 

“No, I should be apologizing.” You grinned nervously, scratching the back of your head. “I wasn’t looking where I was going, that’s on me.”

“Ah, well the name’s Tristan.” He smiled warmly with a quick wave as he introduced himself, sensing your anxieties. The prince then asked for yours, and with a quick nod, you had introduced your name. 

Upon hearing your name, he repeated it. It rolled right off his tongue, beautifully done and divine to say. “That’s a really nice name.” He smiled once again, yet his smile softened into a grin, talking with you a little further before he finally decided to introduce you to the knight he was traveling alongside with. You couldn’t see the knight’s face, thus not knowing the knight's gender, but it wasn’t your business to know anyway. 

“This is Sir Gawain!” He exclaimed proudly. You raised a brow. Oddly, the knight clad in white and gold armor had not uttered a word since the beginning of the interaction, but you paid it no mind. 

“Not much of a talker huh?” You joked, now sitting down. Tristan laughs, nodding along in agreement. Though it was a curiosity, how Tristan knew his name, you decided not to pry. 

Ever since your eventful meeting with the prince, it was from there that somehow everything went downhill; Getting to know him, finally entering the kingdom of Liones, meeting so many brand new people, his parents, some of his friends, and apparently finding out that Sir Gawain was indeed a woman. 

Then there was also Isolde, a tall woman with pink hair and green eyes. You thought without a shadow of a doubt that she was beautiful for her age, Gawain too. But you sincerely were unable to fathom how you could get along with Tristan after getting to know these two ladies. 

You began to feel weird, odd even. A thrashing turmoil of feelings and hate toward yourself, them. Being small was something they all had in common, they could easily hug each other. If you’ve ever even attempted to try to do something like that, you would no doubt hurt your would-be boyfriend in the process. 

Feelings weren’t exactly a linear thing, sometimes not easy to recognize either. But you could somehow know it, sense it. You really hated it, but the memories you made with knowing Tristan’s friends, him too — were something all so dear and precious to you. Not something you could so easily throw away, all for the sake of distance. 

So you began keeping your interactions with his friends to a minimum, that had also meant keeping your interactions with Tristan sparsely small. 

God, you hated it so much. He was smaller, you were huge, being a giant had its perks – but not being able to give Tristan affection was something that had killed you on the inside. You just sometimes simply wished that you would just one day wake up as a small person, and hug Tristan wholly with all your heart without injuring the boy. 

A particular someone, though his interactions with you were quite brief, could notice the way you began to get distant and had rarely interacted with Tristan, much to the detriment of your mental health. Chion wondered if he could be of some help in mending the relationship between you two, because frankly to him, it was beginning to be very tense and stuffy whenever the both of you were in the same vicinity. 

“Hey, woman.” A crass, but firm tone. You looked down, having already been crouched and stuffed your face in your hands for the last few minutes, scratch that — an hour. You sighed, a notable huff escaping your lips at your clear distrust of Chion, having seen his personality in action before. 

“What do you want?”

“I don’t want anything to do with you, but your distancing with Tristan is bothering everyone.” He iterates, and despite his blunt and forward speech – he was also very worried about you. Actually both you and Tristan as well.  

You frown, re-adjusting your position to better face him. “You don’t get it Chion, I–” You paused, the thoughts flooding back in, and making you hesitant to continue. Causing the purple-haired boy to raise an inquisitive brow, so he waited for you to speak, though he was albeit known to be impatient at times. 

“Uh..” You sighed, shoulders deflating in defeat. Despiste knowing you could finally get things off your chest, it was so hard to actually force the words out your mouth. 

Chion simply walked closer, patting your knee with an understanding elation. “Keeping it in will do you no good, I should know.” He remarked, his single eye briefly closing. You chuckled with a slight chagrin inter-woven of your tone, though, you collected yourself. 

“Oh yeah, like the time you withheld information from everyone that Percival was a knight of prophecy?” You joked, causing him to sigh in disappointment, but nod along in agreement nonetheless. Oh how you wondered how Chion had even met Tristan, the only thing you knew about this particular piece of information was how the one was saved by the former, and from there Chion’s admiration for the prince grew. 

Chion fiddled with his staff for a moment, then spoke: “You should try speaking with him again, voice your concerns.” 

Suddenly you could feel your blood run cold at his suggestion, almost causing you to shout out to refute it. But you calmed down, reeling yourself in with a sigh, “How.. could i?” You were unsure of how to approach the subject, to talk to him about such things suddenly seemed so silly to speak of. 

“Try.” He insists, tilting his head as if the idea was the easiest thing in the world to execute. Your eyes flitted over to his form, a glimmer of recognition shining brightly in your pupils. 

You rested your head against your knees, sighing after a few moments. You closed your eyes as you responded with an exhausted tone, “Okay.”

[mysteriouslyjovialcolor]

Hungary 2017

-“One point between Sebastian Vettel and Lewis Hamilton”

-This circuit is shaped so weirdly

-Ferrari row 1 lockout!!! Then Mercedes, Red Bull, and McLaren. Very nice!

-“Behind Sebastian Vettel, some excellent starters as well. The likes of Max Verstappen, only when he’s been taken out by other cars at the start of the season, has he not made up places from the lights out”

-Aah Sebastian leading, Lewis losing places, Carlos making up places,Daniel spinning out!!!

-Not even one lap and there’s a safety car

-“Someone hit me..if that’s who I think it was” Eeeh that’s uncomfortable

-Everyone started off good, and then Max had a lockup and then Daniel got hit :(

-“For the first time ever, there has been a safety car on lap one in the Hungarian Grand Prix, for the first time ever Daniel Ricciardo is out in the first lap of a Grand Prix, for the first time ever the man on pole has lead the first lap of the Hungarian Grand Prix”

-“The two Force Indias came together as well” haha

-Kevin: “If you can do what Hulkenburg did to Grosjean, it’s going to be a dirty race”

-Lewis vs Max and Carlos vs Alonso!

-“Some canny defending from Max Verstappen there” That was actually very fast thinking from him

-Both younger drivers making their positions stick

-Oh angry Daniel in the pit wall

-10s penalty for Max (I’m getting flashbacks)

-Yellow flag?

-“The Ferrari’s just pulling away into the distance”

-Lol is this just 2017’s Mexico 2024 race? If Valterri somehow overtakes Kimi and this goes from a Ferrari 1-2 to a 1-3, I’m going to assume it is

-“Okay okay leave me alone” Carlos getting heated

-Not the Mercs having IT issues 💀

-Are the Ferrari’s going to race???

-Actually, probably not good for the championship

-Although Sebastian coming 2nd, still wouldn’t compromise his championship at this point very much

-But, maybe not the best in the long run

-I don’t know what I’m saying, I just want them to go wheel to wheel since Kimi does look faster

-Are the Mercedes going to race?

-“What the ***** is wrong with this Williams? If he cannot stay behind then he should stay in the reporting stuff.” Cold, Kimi, cold

-It’s fun when Alonso and Carlos battle it out

-“They love to find themselves on the same bit of tarmac don’t they, these two”

-“If Ferrari want to win this race, surely the best thing they can do at this moment is let Kimi Raikonnen past his teammate but in the championship battle the last thing that Sebastian Vettel is going to stand for is losing any more points than he has to”

-My ramblings before weren’t too far off after all

-Dude this is really giving Mexico 2024

-Kimi saying that if he doesn’t start pushing he’s going to be caught by the Mercedes

-Honestly after that penalty, Max still came out p5, it could’ve been worse (he could’ve had a 20s penalty and come out p16)

-Haha the IT problem at Merc got fixed and instantly Lewis laid out everything he wanted to say before that he couldn’t

-“Okay man look, I got a lot of pace, now let me use it” “And this radio stuff sucks, my last tires were perfect, I could’ve kept going” “Just let me know when I can race Valterri”

-Ahaha Lewis catching Kimi now, this is giving major deja vu

-Bloody hell, they messed up Nico’s pit stop

-“Lewis will let you go by (Valterri), if he can’t go past Raikonnen” Interesting, that’s a factor that wasn’t present in Mexico 2024

-“Verstappen still the fastest car on track” That, unfortunately, also wasn’t present in Mexico 2024

-Aaah is Kimi going to go for it??

-Never mind, that both got stuck in traffic (Right where Nico and Kevin are racing it out, not fun)

-“I’m going to ruin my tires even more. Is this what we’re going to do for the rest of the race?” Why won’t they just let him go past?? (I know why, I’m still going to question it)

-✨George Russel✨

-“He said it’s be a dirty race” “He wanted to join it” Haha Kevin

-Charles in the Ferrari garage>>>

-“Red Bull, back out there in the fight again””I mean he’s 10s off the lead and he had a 10s penalty!”

-Max threatening Valterri, so now Mercedes scrambling, wondering if they should swap the teammates now or not

-Don’t know if he’s actually going to overtake Valterri, nobody seems to be able to overtake anyone for the past ten laps

-Ferrari 1-2!!!

-Oh wow the Mercedes actually swapped

-Aww does Sebastian say “Forza Ferrari” every time he wins with them? Cute

-Him being so animated in the cooldown room>>

-Him dancing on the podium>>

-Ahaha Fernando taking the podium in, sitting on a deck chair by the cars

-“Kimi there is a huge Finish support here, maybe a couple words in Finish for your fans before we get back to English?”

“Well I think they all understand English”

I love him your honor 😭😂

[stitchlingbelle]

Watching Halo, Episode 6

We kick off with the immediate aftermath of the battle, and they do a good job of showing the human cost here—my baby Kai screaming in pain, the long, long lines of the injured and dead being carried into the base. The Master Chief claims that he’s fine and Cortana tells him he’s full of shit, which I appreciated. Makee is unconscious—sedated? I assume she couldn’t just sleep through this—and speaking Sangheili (I finally looked up how to spell it).

As everyone but Halsey is off the ship, Master Chief locks her in and gets TALKY as he threatens to murder her. I’m not gonna lie, I adored this scene. There have been throwaway lines about the Spartans’ intelligence, but this is the first time we really see Master Chief show off his specialist knowledge and problem-solving skills. He’s positively chatty in a very unnerving way as he explains how Halsey will die—if Cortana doesn’t take over his body and stop him, which she doesn’t. He doesn’t go through with killing Halsey (unfortunately, though I very uncharitably enjoyed listening to her panicked screams. A+ acting). I’m not entirely convinced that his test actually proved what he wanted it to—we know Cortana is programmed to take him over completely if needed. Is her access to that function still blocked by Halsey, or did Cortana choose not to use it? If it’s still blocked, was Halsey unable or unwilling to give that access in time to save herself? (She, or her clone, has already shown herself willing to die for her vision if necessary.) Chief seems to assume Cortana would do anything to save Halsey because she’s her creator—but is that true? What does Cortana want?

Makee, like the sledgehammer she is, is going straight past subtle and demanding to speak to the Master Chief and no one else to give up Covenant secrets. How does she even know who he is, gang? If this weren’t a 9-episode season I would have enjoyed them screwing with her by trotting out every other Master Chief in the UNSC before finally letting her talk to John, but we gotta keep things moving, instead. His tough-guy act lasts all of thirty seconds before she drops the term “blessed one” and he crumbles. If she’s so important, Chief, how did she get away? (Also, did she have star charts memorized as a kid and access to nav data as a prisoner? How does she know what the human name of this star system is? I know, if she didn’t we wouldn’t have a show, blah blah blah.) She also gets a cool new human outfit this episode, which I assume is a standard-issue thing, but appears conveniently fashionable, well-fitted, and cleavage-revealing.

Meanwhile, there’s politics and the brass backstabbing each other because their brainwashing & slavery program isn’t running as smoothly as they hoped. (No one reads history OR scifi around here.) (Are the Spartans even paid? What do they spend it on? They need a union.) Consequences are catching up to Halsey in the form of some sort of interrogation (mar dhea, as we say in Irish—as if! I’m certain she’ll wriggle out somehow). Aaaand John interrupts thirty seconds in, which is probably not how the military or the law usually works and in the real world would almost certainly be enough to get her off scot-free, to question her while Parangosky and Keyes watch virtually. “He’s going to think we’re complicit!”/ “Margaret, we ARE complicit!” made me laugh in a very dark way. Miranda slips in at one point, too.

Villain monologue! I have to say, I HATE this sort of villain more than any other. Humanity is too violent, so I, supergenius, had the ~unprecedented~ idea to make a group that’s even MORE violent! No one’s ever thought of that before! Babe, you just reinvented the military and cops, except now they have bigger guns and less connection to their home communities. When we say in PoliSci that one of the definitions of a state is “the entity that maintains a monopoly on violence”, this is literally what we mean. So other groups are now incentivized to create their own Spartan programs to compete with you, or some other arms-race solution? (And this is leaving out all the child abuse, fascism, and “who decides?” of deploying a hyperviolent solution.) Dear Halsey, your ideas are unoriginal, inefficient, do not scale well, and are ultimately ineffective. Please see me after class.

Speaking of the child abuse, holy God, the rest of her explanation was truly horrific. Flash clone kids, created just to die in pain? That’s just sick.

I feel for Miranda, who just got her entire vision of her mother as anything other than a monster ripped from her, and I appreciate that her response isn’t to make it about herself, it’s to offer sympathy to John and then snap to when he asks her for help. How much of this is also a revelation for Cortana, given that she keeps saying that Spartan records don’t exist? Whether she knew and is having that knowledge recontextualized, or whether she’s hearing all this for the first time, she’s about to have choices to make herself. John wonders how much control Cortana has over him, and I’m over here wondering how much control Halsey has over her. The other person who gets to learn all of this is poor Kai, who gets the less-than-comforting reassurance from Master Chief that they’re still Spartans, and the even-less-comforting words, “Get better, 125. I’m gonna need you.”

Back with Halsey, she faces her first-ever consequences when Parangosky reassigns her and has her kicked out, giving her lab, the Spartans, and the artifact over to Miranda. I still don’t trust it will last, but it’s nice to see her outmaneuvered at least once. (Referring to John’s very real anger and anguish as “theatrics” and laughing over the idea that anyone could possibly arrest her? Someone push her into a volcano. Preferably right after she watches Miranda comes up with some brilliant breakthrough that leaves everything she did in the dust, and more, shows it for the flawed bullshit it is.) (Can you tell I am starting to REALLY dislike this woman.)

Miranda gets the lab, which is stark and huge with giant screens, much more glamorous than her previous cluttered, normal-monitor-filled premises. Nice set design there. I’m not sure if she realizes it’s also her invitation to become as complicit as her parents. (The Spartan program is being questioned, but if it’s not shut down, how do you get more Spartans? How will she justify keeping  those pellets in the other Spartans’ backs? Or is she about to start a little rebellion of her own?) But of course, her access is immediately compromised by her mom demanding to see her. *insert Admiral Ackbar gif here*

It absolutely is a trap, as expected. I assumed it would be a bug planted on Miranda to take back to the lab, but it seems Halsey used a high-tech contact lens to copy her daughter’s retinal data. 1. I am surprised she didn’t have that already, weirdo that she is, and 2. This is why biometric data is a disaster. It sounds super fancy and science fiction-y and unhackable, but the problem isn’t your body being hackable, it’s the MACHINE being hackable. It doesn’t know where the data is coming from, just that it IS the correct data, and you can change your passwords BUT YOU CAN’T CHANGE YOUR EYEBALLS.

Ahem. Meanwhile, in terms of character work, Halsey pulls this all off by pretending to get emotional, but does it in such a weird and off-putting way that it’s believable for her. I have so many questions about this woman. Why and how did she even end up with Keyes? Why did she even HAVE a kid? (Oh god, she didn’t originally have Miranda for the Spartan program, did she? Is that why she’s so hostile towards her, because she washed out and is therefore ‘flawed’?) Telling Miranda “I’m sorry that you’re upset that I’m a sociopath” was a hell of a move.

Eventually Cortana breaks through to Halsey (who is debuting her new line of loungewear, incidentally). Interesting that Halsey takes credit for Adun’s work. Cortana, you really, really need to consider your life choices right now…

Meanwhile, there’s some drama around finding the planet Makee told them about, which gives me a bit more of the worldbuilding—they’re using telescopes to find it, not relying on previous charting missions or sending a ship in person. Humanity is still limited in its explorations and knowledge of the greater galaxy. (Could they find friendly aliens at some point? Allies against the Covenant?)

The doubt is enough to send Master Chief and Miranda running to the artifact, fortunately not with Makee in tow just yet. (John’s level of suspicion is pleasantly surprising.) Clearly Kai’s humanizing of the team worked, because Miranda is obviously worried about John as a person as they argue over him touching the artifact again. Halsey, Adun, and Cortana all watch as John nearly fries his brain—and Makee’s as she goes into an instantaneous, identical medical crisis. He inevitably remembers her words and is able to accept the power and suddenly they’re both having a vision of a ring planet of some kind. Aaand it immediately turns into a “We See Each Other” moment. Of course it does.

[fancoloredglasses]

[RERUN] Crisis on Infinite Earths, issue 11: “Aftershock” (Same great universe, now 80% smaller!)

[All images are owned by DC Comics, please don’t sue me]

PREVIOUSLY ON…

A being known as the Anti-Monitor has destroyed all but 5 of the universes in existence) with a single survivor on Earth-6 (Lady Quark) and Earth-Prime (Superboy) along for the ride)

Unfortunately, the process was unstable, meaning that time has merged (meaning mammoths and futuristic aliens are among modern skyscrapers) in the areas where the Earths are merged (which are called “Warp Zones”)

The Anti-Monitor’s last three attempts to destroy the multiverse have been thwarted (at the cost of many lives, including Supergirl and Earth-1’s Flash)

The Anti-Monitor’s fourth attempt brought the battle to the Dawn of Time, where the Anti-Monitor attempted to destroy the multiverse before it began, but his efforts were thwarted by the Spectre.

…or were they? As the pair fought for control, reality shattered around them and the assembled heroes!

Now, on with our story! If you would like to read this issue, it (along with the rest of the series) has been collected in graphic novel form and is available (or can be ordered) at your favorite comic shop, bookstore, or online retailer…or on Read Comic Online.

[WARNING: Things are gonna get a bit weirder and more confusing than they’ve been to this point (and that’s saying something!) Furthermore, the jokes could be a bit thin here. I’m not certain if you’ll call that a bad thing or not]

We open on Clark Kent (Kal-L) as he wakes up from a bizarre dream. His wife Lois obviously let him sleep in…and redecorated? He heads to his “day job” as managing editor of the Daily Star. He enters his office and is about to get to work…

…when Perry White barges in and demands to know who’s in his office. That’s when Kal-L noticed Perry’s name on the office door. In barges Clark Kent (Superman) who apologizes to Perry and introduces his “Uncle Clark” before escorting Kal-L from the building.

On the top of the Daily Planet, they guess that somehow after the Spectre’s fight with the Anti-Monitor, they both were transported to Earth-1. They fly to the warp zone in New York…

…only it’s not there. What’s more, no one remembers there ever being anything weird in the area (though they do remember Supergirl’s death).

They then fly to Central City, where the Flash (who is still considered “missing”, as no one was present for his sacrifice) stored his cosmic treadmill…

…only to see the twin cities of Central City (home to Earth-1′s Flash) and Keystone City (home to Earth-2′s Flash) Sure enough, Jay Garrick (Earth-2′s Flash) and his wife Joan greet the pair. Joan doesn’t remember what happened, but Jay does. They fetch Kid Flash and start the cosmic treadmill and break through the dimensional barrier

…to a void; Earth-2 isn’t there! What’s more, Kal-L feels the void calling to him, like he belongs there…though the Flash doesn’t feel the same call!

They return before Kal-L can run to the void, and everyone reaches the same conclusion: there is only one universe now, but obviously elements of the old realities are different from the new reality…and some elements never existed!

While the four contact as many heroes as they can find to discuss the ramifications, we switch to deep space. Rip Hunter’s time sphere (carrying Hunter, Adam Strange, Captain Comet, Dolphin, Atomic Knight, and Animal Man) encounter Brainiac’s ship adrift.

They board to investigate and discover the corpse (if a robot can have a corpse) of Brainiac.

Back on Earth, many of the heroes have gathered at Titan’s Tower, where they’re all checking each others’ math to make sure everyone has put two and two together. Huntress and Earth-2′s Robin explain that they, like Kal-L, don’t exist in this “new Earth”. Superboy-Prime is shocked when he finds out his Earth never existed either (that’s what happens when your universe was written in just so it could become a victim. Just ask Lady Quark)

Suddenly, Harbinger appears (having somehow regained her powers due to the new reality) and confirms this fact, and explains that some elements of each individual earths’ histories no longer existed (though reality seems to have conformed around Earth-1 primarily. I guess DC would have lost a lot of readers if it conformed around Earth-X), meaning only the modern versions of the “duplicate” heroes (like Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman) are part of this new reality, while heroes that share a name, but not a past (like Flash, Green Lantern, and Atom) exist alongside their younger counterparts. 

Kal-L flips out at this news, as it means that he will never see his wife Lois again.

As Kal-L flies off in a streak of self-pity, we switch to the Spirit Realm, where the Spectre lies unconscious, severely weakened by his battle with the Anti-Monitor (I’m sure this will be important later)

Back on Earth, the heroes continue to compare notes. It seems the villains don’t remember the multiverse (since they weren’t at the Dawn of Time), but it seems that Power Girl (Kal-L’s cousin) is remembered. No one is sure how that works.

Suddenly, the weather turns ugly, just as it did when a universe was about to–

Uh-oh…

Earth has been pulled into the Anti-Matter universe!

…dedulcnoc eb oT

[avatarmerida]

Another chapter already? My fatal flaw is I won’t update for a month and then twice within 48 hours. This is very cheesy and corny and just a bunch of kissing idk there really is a plot so sue me. Read on AO3 or under the cut

Hunter was not the best with words, especially when it came to Willow.

He felt safe and happy around her and he really had no issue telling her so, but doing it creatively was a challenge. Willow loved to flirt, before they were official, he was uncertain if she was implying something or if that was just the way she talked. But even now, knowing she liked him back and that her words carried more, he still struggled to respond. They’d sink into a comfortable dialogue, and he was witty enough, but eventually she would say something so sweet and genuine that he knew she would only ever say to him it would render him speechless.

But it only made him more determined.

“I like your jacket,” he said one day as they walked around town, holding hands and enjoying the lovely day together. Willow smiled, knowing he was practicing his flirting since he was the one who had found and altered the jacket for her, so she knew he had something in mind.

“Thanks,” she said brightly. “My boyfriend made it for me.”

“Oh is that why it looks like girlfriend material?” He asked smoothly, but then his words caught up with him as his face displayed his confusion. “Oh, wait hold on, I was supposed to ask you what it was made of and then say that.”

Willow giggled, appreciating the effort. In truth, Hunter was his most charming when he wasn’t thinking, when his actions were quicker than his mind. But the fact that he kept trying was so adorable to her.

“A-re you tired?” Hunter asked, clearly trying again.

“Um not really, why?”

“Because you’ve been running,” he said smugly as though he had succeeded in delivering the pun. When Willow raised her eyebrows at him in confusion, he smacked his forehead with his free hand as he realized his mistake. “Through my mind all day!” He added in panic as though to neglect that part made the sentence offensive somehow.

Willow giggled but Hunter groaned. Luz had helped him study for this moment. She had shown him countless rom coms and animes to help him find his own rhythm. Ever since the night of their first date where she had looked at him with wide eyes when he kissed her hand, he was determined to repeat history. He wanted Willow Park to swoon.

He practiced in the mirror before bed and while he was getting ready for school. He wrote his best ideas down in the back of his notebook. He didn’t understand why it was so hard. He had survived in the wilderness for weeks at a time, endured blistering winds and scorching deserts, battled monsters three times his size, but saying a complete sentence to his girlfriend was where his courage drew the line. How unfair.

“Hey,” he said as they were walking, fighting the lump in his throat. “My friend over there thinks you’re cute.”

He pointed to the other side of the hall with his head and when Willow followed to see who he meant, he teleported into her line of vision, leaning against the wall as though he had been there all along, unaware he was being discussed.

Willow bit her lip, a blush dancing across her face. Oh, that’s a good one, she thought. How long can he keep this up? She sauntered over and leaned against the locker, looking up at him like he was a rock star. He attempted to uphold his cool, aloof look but being so close to Willow made him melt.

“Hey,” she said in a low, airy voice.

“H-hey.”

“Um, just thought I’d let you know that I actually have a boyfriend,” she said, committing to the bit.

“O-oh really?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I appreciate the compliment but I’m really happy with him.”

“You are?” He said, unable to hide the delighted surprise in his voice.

“Mhm hm,” she nodded.

“I-I bet he’s really happy to be with you too,” he said, trying to remove the character he was supposed to be. “I bet he thinks you’re really cool and pretty and strong and brave and funny and, uh pretty and-.”

She just laughed, and he loved her laugh. He loved being able to make her laugh, but he wanted to make her feel the way she made him feel so effortlessly. He took her laughter as a win, but he wanted to make her feel like she was floating because a simple thing he said made her heart feel inflated and light. The way she did to him. He wanted to say something so unique and profound and romantic that it played on a loop in her head before bed. To him, everything Willow said was worth committing to memory and he wanted to be worthy of being on her mind.

He would make Willow Park swoon.

What Hunter didn’t see was the small white flowers dancing in her hair every time his eyes lit up when he saw her, her heart lifted her in a way that did not make her speechless but bright and bubbly and excited. She knew that besides a fictional character here and there over the years, that she was Hunter’s first real crush. She was the first person he had actually known who consumed his thoughts in such a quick and gentle way that it made him dizzy. He didn’t know what to expect, he was learning as he went after all. But Willow had had plenty of crushes over the years and had more experience maintaining her emotions and knowing the kinds of things to say. So she wasn’t as flustered as he often was, but she had never thought she’d be able to be so cool around someone she liked so much.

When she was younger, she had gone through the right of passage that was having a crush on both Blight twins. She’d be hanging out with Amity and they’d walk by, doing everything so effortlessly and cool. The way they said her name, the way Ed would ask her how she was or how Em would give her a compliment would make her brain feel broken and frozen and all she could do was giggle. She had no idea if they were saying these things to try and make her feel like this or to be polite or because they said it to everyone. Regardless, it made her feel special. Over time the rush went away, and her heart didn’t leap and jump when they entered the room.

But that night after they met when Hunter sent her five messages in a row, farcically apologizing in a run on sentence where every other word was misspelled and capitalized randomly, followed by another message attempting to correct the previous message and making a new mistake to explain, her heart spun more than it ever had. She knew he wasn’t trying to make her like him like that, and she knew liking him wasn't the best idea. But where her other crushes faded over time, every new little stupid thing Hunter did just added to the flames. For the first time, she had time to prepare, to plan ways to drop hints and be cool.

Her aloofness was only present to Hunter, as everyone else could clearly see the signs of a Willow so far gone. But this only made Hunter try harder, even after he knew she returned his feelings. He just couldn't risk her forgetting or doubting his admiration for her.

He’d write her poems, but the typical “rose are red, violets are blue” motif was far too simple (and technically incorrect) for Hunter to resort to. ( “If violets are blue then why are they named violets?” He’d say. “Violet is a separate color on the color wheel! What, next are you gonna tell me that blue berries are actually violet?”) No, Willow was comparable only to the most rare and captivating flowers, which were a tad bit harder to rhyme in Hunter’s experience. His poem turned into an essay on the history of their discovery and placement through their native realm. By the time he was done, there wasn’t a metaphor to come back to, but Willow treasured it nevertheless.

Willow knew that Hunter was a man of action. She knew she meant the world to him, but he had trouble saying it sometimes. But he never failed to show her.

Every time he’d brush her hair out of her face without thinking, every time he’d double scan the street before they crossed, every time he’d go out of his way to end up near her, she knew. He didn’t even think about these things, they were so natural to him. He probably didn’t think she noticed because he barely noticed it himself.

But in the end, that’s how he finally did it.

Since the day they became official (for the second time?) they both built up that first kiss in their mind.

Okay, it wasn’t technically their first kiss, but it felt like it was. But given their… history, Hunter wanted this kiss to be perfect and planned and maybe not as surprising? They had reached an interesting crossroads where everything was fast and slow at the same time. Willow had told him they could take things as slow as he wanted and she meant it, it was her first relationship too after all and there was much to figure out. But they were just so good at it. They were just so excited. Every time he waited eagerly by her locker with a tiny gift, a trinket he had carved or a plant sample he had cut for her, it took everything in her not to cover his face in kisses. She limited herself to one, maybe two. Because they were taking it slow.

There would be no panicking after about what it meant or what they were, because they knew that now. Quick kisses on the cheek were one thing, but to Hunter a real kiss needed to be special, memorable, and dramatic. But it also had to be simple, organic, and private. After his rushed first attempt on the flyer derby field, Hunter was determined to make the next one perfect. On the other hand, after her ambush at grom, Willow carried a variety of lip glosses in her bag just in case.

They’d go on picnics or to the movies and it would be on both their minds and just when the moment seemed perfect, the sun would be setting or music would be playing, his mind would say “But what if a more romantic moment happens later?” or “What if you didn't actually brush your teeth this morning and your breath smells?” or “What if you miss???” Willow watched the gears turn in his head as he decided and undecided, hoping one day he'd be able to read her mind and know his first instinct had been right.

Then one day they were going to the human realm to return some books to the library, a day filled with errands and tasks and no time for romance. The weather in both realms wasn’t impressive or exciting and they were both tired and sore from a match the night before. It was a dull day, painfully average.

But not for long.

Willow finished packing her purse, both her and Huner loved sneaking snacks into the library (she didn’t tell him it was against the rules) so they could spend even more time there together. As she went to walk out the door, she was stopped when Hunter quickly grabbed her and spun her around to face him, his hands cradling either side of her face.

“Wait,” Hunter said, focused and determined, as she looked up at him in awe, the day of their first match flashed in her head., How similar their position had been, how her heart had beat the same way, how close they were.

“Yeah?” she whispered, hoping he’d say this was the time, that he couldn’t wait another moment to pull her close and hold her tightly so they could finally-

“You forgot to cover your ears,” he said, totally unbothered.

“Oh,” she breathed, too caught up in her own thoughts to communicate her slight disappointment. “Thanks.”

He was too focused on taking care of her to let their closeness fluster him, so naturally the responsibility fell to Willow. As he adjusted her hair for her, she was able to fixate on his features. The lighting in the old cabin was dim, but he had a natural glow to him. He should seem rugged and intimidating but he was so gentle and warm that Willow hoped his hold on her would never end. She didn’t have the words to express this though, as her eyes darted to his lips and the way he stuck his tongue out to the side as he concentrated on not undoing her braids rendered her speechless.

How could he look right at her and not realize she was swooning so freaking hard?

“Sure, happy to help.” he said as he removed his hands from her ears and placed them on her shoulders as he admired his work. He was caught off guard by the stunned expression Willow wore as a faint blush became more present on her cheeks. It was like she was waiting for something, like it was his turn to fill the silence. She pursed her lips and her hands fidgeted between them, like they couldn’t decide what to do. Hunter pulled her closer, assuming that he had missed a strand of hair, and she was resisting the urge to adjust it.

Despite his attention to detail, he could not find the error. Though, he never could when it came to Willow. Satisfied, he went to tell her they were good to go but then saw her focus had never left him. She was waiting for something, but Hunter struggled to read exactly what. Was she eager to leave? Was she worried about what neglecting to cover her ears could have meant? Was she trying to remember something else?

He waited for her to say what she meant to, but she was the speechless one now. He moved his hand to her cheek, slightly concerned that she’d get frustrated and distracted the way he did when he could not remember something. He wanted to let her know he could wait until it came to her, that he wanted to help her. But his small act pushed her over the edge and any chance she had to keep her cool flew out the window.

“Sorry, I thought you were gonna kiss me,” she said quickly as she exhaled, almost too quiet to hear if he had not been right in front of her. She seemed almost embarrassed, like it was such a silly misunderstanding, like she wasn't sure how she had said that aloud. But her lingering gaze suggested she thought it was anything but silly and her shaky breath suggested she was still thinking about it.

“Oh,” was all Hunter could say, caught off guard. Not because he had never thought about it, but because he was surprised this was a moment that she felt worthy enough to add such an action to. He had done nothing impressive, nothing about the setting was particularly memorable, and the day itself held no significant importance. But yet he found himself in the rare occurrence of leaving Willow Park speechless and nervous and hopeful simply because he stood close to her. Suddenly, his mind and heart took hold of his reflexes as he gently pulled her closer to him and allowed her thoughts to no longer be merely thoughts. “Okay.”

He didn’t know what to say next, he didn’t know how to question the importance of the moment without making it seem like the idea was foreign to him. He didn’t know what to say, so he just did. He titled his head, giving her every chance to pull away to finish her sentence, to question him. But she didn’t. She was too stunned, too caught up, too lost in the proximity to take charge. There was no room to be cheeky and coy and silly, this was new territory. Hunter didn’t have the time to build this moment up, to talk himself out of it because this moment found him instead of the other way around. He didn’t have the words, but he didn’t need them here.

He moved forward ever so slightly and when her eyes fluttered closed, he somehow just knew. He knew how to tilt his head the opposite way, he knew how to cup her cheek, he knew the perfect speed to go so he did not crash into her. Then finally, lowly, swiftly, gently his lips found hers. They pressed together for only a moment, so soft and sweet Hunter was sure he’d wandered into a dream. He felt Willow rise onto her toes to reach him better, and his natural response was to pull her closer. Not wanting her to strain herself in any way, he moved one arm around her waist to help lift her up and her arms rested on his chest, and she kissed him back.

As a vine sprouted from her hair and swirled around his wrist by her face, wrapping his arm like a branch to keep him close. Flowers formed at their feet, the sweet smell tickling Hunter’s nose as he tried committing every millisecond to memory. He had been so worried that when the time came, he couldn’t know if it had been the right moment or if he had done it correctly, but now as an extravagant garden surrounded them, he was certain he had not messed this up. And that certainly gave him the confidence to kiss her again and again, every time he pulled away (because he didn’t want to stay too long a potentially be rude, time didn't seem to be working at the moment) she followed him and held her place for a moment. He felt the vine tightened slightly, as though sending a signal Willow herself was too overwhelmed to communicate herself and he knew it was okay to kiss her again. And he was glad, because he wanted to.

Soon enough, the pair did manage to stop, and both pulled away slowly. Willow took a moment to open her eyes, no words coming to her as she tried to describe what the foliage around her symbolized. When opened her eyes to look up at Hunter, he looked like he was holding his breath.

“What’s wrong?” She asked with a smile, she felt as though she would never stop smiling.

“I don’t wanna say something stupid and have that be the first thing I say after our first kiss.” He said quietly, having learned from his sister’s “crickey” slip.

Willow didn’t feel the need to point out it wasn’t technically their first kiss, she just pulled him closer as she rested her chin on his chest, looking up at him in adoration as he continued to ramble about how he was worried he would start to ramble. Luckily, she had the perfect solution as she rose up onto her tip toes and planted another gentle kiss on his lips to interrupt him in the best way possible. She would be interrupting him more frequently, she decided.

“Heh,” Hunter giggled as Willow slowly parted again, the dreamy look on her face erasing any lingering nerves. He couldn't help being familiar with that look, it was the same look she so effortlessly inspired in him. He dared to think he had done it without even trying. He had made her swoon.

“So, uh was that okay?” he asked, trying to dodge his nerves a while longer until he knew for certain.

“Hmmm, I think I’m gonna forget to hide my ears more often,” she said in a breathy laugh that eased him and registered them on equal ground as she tucked her hair behind her ear, a gesture she hoped he would forever interpret as a sign.

---

From that point on, Willow became obsessed. Hunter making the first move was not completely uncommon, but to make such a bold one made her distracted. Any moment of silence was filled with the memory of his lips on hers, a quick return to their bubble. But again, Hunter was still becoming accustomed to such displays of affection, so she went to great strides to assure him the moment did not need to be grand to be commemorated. So long as he kissed her like that , like she was a rose he’d endure countless thorns to be near, she’d find utter bliss in the uneventful.

To Willow, studying was very uneventful. To her joy, Hunter always insisted on studying together.

They'd all study in a group, but today it was just them. Her fathers wouldn't be back for at least an hour, Willow providing them with a lengthy list of ingredients with items that should be the demon realm equivalent for a meal she loved in the human realm that they wanted to recreate. She may have added a few extras to extend her alone time with Hunter, but who can be sure.

"Do you think we can take a break?" Willow asked sweetly as she looked down at Hunter, engaged in his books sprawled across the couch as his head rested in her lap.

"We just took one," Hunter chuckled, setting his book on the coffee table as he looked up at her with a gentle smile.

"I know, but I'm having trouble concentrating," she said as she tucked her hair behind her ear. In truth, Willow didn't have trouble focusing on the subject matter because it was too complicated, but because she couldn't help but focus on the way Hunter moved his lips when he read.

"Well, I'm just rereading my chapter, I can help you," he offered, more than happy to. "I can try quizzing you, give your eyes a break. I’m sure there’s a way we can make studying more fun."

That was exactly what Willow was hoping he'd say.

“Okay then, how about… for every question I get right I get a little kiss?” suggested Willow as she twirled his forelock between her fingers. She took delight in the way she could see the exact moment when Hunter processed her words: his eyes widened, his heart seemed to stop, and his bones seemed to turn to noodles as he tried not to let his excitement show on his face too much.

“Okay, I think I can do that.” said Hunter, trying to seem casual about it as he sat up and happily took the book from her. She adjusted her position to face him as he flipped to the review section of the book. He cleared his throat as he began, able to forsake his flustered state for the sake of her education. He was in his element. “Okay uh, what does it mean if a plant’s petals change color in the sunlight?”

“That it’s either being under or overwatered, depending on the hue,” answered Willow effortlessly.

“Correct,” said Hunter leaning over to plant a kiss on her cheek. She smiled, able to tell he was genuinely proud of her for knowing the answer. “Alright, how many seeds do you need to replicate the twisting tree native to the mountains of Latissa?”

“Three, like a braid,” said Willow proudly, leaning forward to present Hunter with her cheek as he happily supplied her with her reward.

“Okay, how often do you need to prune the-.”

“You skipped one.” said Willow.

“Huh?” said Hunter as he looked back down to the study guide. “Oh, yeah you’re right sorry I- wait; did you memorize this list?”

“Yeah?” She said innocently. “I mean, isn’t that what studying is?”

“Do you actually need my help or were you just looking for an excuse to kiss?” he asked with a smirk as he rested his cheek on his fist, hanging his arm over the edge of the coach as he looked at her with wistful eyes.

“Can’t it be both?” she smirked back, her eyes likewise sparkling.

Hunter chuckled. “Do you really think you need an excuse for me to want to kiss you?” He asked playfully, questioning only about her methods, not her intentions. He would normally be nervous about flirting so directly, but he did also want to make sure she knew she didn't need to go to so much trouble for him.

“Nooo,” she laughed, delighted his energy matched hers. She only felt a little silly, but it was worth it to see him smile at her like that.

“Correct.” Hunter leaned forward and this time placed a kiss on her lips before leaning back to return his attention to the book. Willow was momentarily taken back by his boldness, delighted by his initiative and somewhat shocked that he could return to schoolwork so easily. When he didn’t go back to quizzing her right away, she sensed he was waiting to see her reaction. She swiftly reached for the book and pulled it down to bring his attention back to her as pressed another kiss to his lips. This one was less quick, and Hunter allowed the book to fall to the floor as he wrapped his arms around her to extend it. The next thing he knew, his balance was lost as Willow leaned forward to kiss him more intensely and he ended up laying on the couch, her lips never leaving his as she fell with him to land beside him.

Continuing to kiss her felt so natural and easier as she took the lead now. He knew how uncomfortable it was for her to have her glasses on when she laid down, so he removed her glasses for her, action she showed gratitude for by pulling him closer, the clunky barrier on her face no longer a deterrent. He set her glasses on the table and once they were safe, he used the free hand to caress her cheek, the other one pinned at his side under him, but he could hardly complain. They fell into a rhythm of sorts, as each kiss inspired another and the world around them disappeared.

As he felt her hand wander through his hair knew, his guilty nature told him that he should insist they go back to studying, that she had a big test coming up and he had promised to help her. He resisted a few moments more, finding that it was hardly a one-sided distraction, but knew it was a distraction nonetheless. “Willow, I think-,” but when he went to vocalize his thoughts, his mind went blank when he was met with her mischievous eyes that wordlessly called his bluff. Why was he trying to end this moment so soon again? “I uh, w-we should get back to studying.” He knew he needed to say, despite it being the last thing he wanted to say.

“Okay,” she said in a tone that suggested that what they should be doing and what they would be doing did not co-exist. Seeing that he did not loosen his hold on her, she snuggled closer to him and began kissing the side of his face and continued the conversation like this was just a normal part of it. Her voice was low and relaxed like she was in a dream, and this was the only way to keep him there with her. “Is that what you want to do?”

“We uh… I mean, don’t you…” he looked up at the ceiling as Willow peppered his jawline with kisses. He couldn't help but think that they never kissed so much before. When they managed to be alone, it was usually somewhere public and when he managed to summon the courage to kiss her it was usually very quick. It took him less time now to come around to the idea that she wanted to kiss him and keep kissing him. He had been so worried before about knowing if he was doing it right or if it was the right time, but every time her lips found his temple, all his mind could point out was that whole he was in the moment there was no time to overthink it. The logic wasn’t totally sound, but the amazing girl that he was crazy about wanted to kiss him right now and he was failing to find a reason she shouldn’t.

He turned his face to the side to look at her again and she stopped, waiting to see what he wanted to do. Her eyes flashed a small panic, worried she had overstepped or made him uncomfortable, but before she could even try to apologize Hunter moved to kiss her lips with such vigor that they tumbled off the couch.

Willow let out a squeal of delight as she wrapped her arms around his neck in celebration, trying to find a way to kiss him both quicker and longer at the same time. Anytime their lips weren’t touching Willow let out a small, delighted giggle and Hunter found himself joining in as they laughed and kissed on her living room floor, their studies left for a different day. In his mind, he referred to the next 10 minutes of nonstop kissing as "advanced kissing."

Willow would never tell him that most teenagers refer to it as “making out” because his terminology was much, much cuter.

---

“Darius! Darius!” Hunter called in a panicked voice as he rushed down the stairs in commotion the next day.

Darius and Alador sat at the kitchen table working on their second pot of coffee, having been up all night so close to a breakthrough in the sigil remover. Darius groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing by Hunter’s tone that it was nothing dangerous or life threatening, just that it was definitely too early for his unique brand of nonsense.

“In here, little prince,” he called anyway, knowing that prolonging it would only make things worse. Hunter rounded the corner, his sock feet sliding in on the wooden floor nearly causing him to face plant as he entered with such an aggressive purpose.

“Darius!” he panted. “ Darius, i-it’s an emergency! I’m having a physical reaction to love!”

Darius nearly spit out his coffee as Alador’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh,” said Alador, setting down his own cup as Darius coughed beside him. “Hmm, well ya know what I can call Edric over and give you both the talk at the same time if you-.”

“No, no, let him finish,” Darius said as he hit his chest to steady his breathing. “It’s most likely not what you think. Now, what exactly do you mean, Hunter?”

“Okay, well last night when I went to Willow’s I was helping her study for her exam and then we started kissing and she did this thing-.”

“Eh,” Darius raised his hand, cutting him off. “I don’t need to know all the details, just get to the point while I’m young please.”

“What, you wanted him to get to the point 10 years ago?” Alador murmured as he sipped his coffee with a satisfied smile, avoiding the deadly glare he knew Darius was giving him.

“Okay, okay but this morning I woke up with this!’ Hunter exclaimed, pulling his shirt collar to reveal a purple mark on the side of his neck. Unable to help themselves, Darius and Alador burst into laughter as Hunter’s panic increased.

“Why are you laughing?’ He demanded. “It’s not funny!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Darius said as he tried to dim his laughter. “No, no you’re right, it’s very serious. But just not in the way you’re thinking.”

“So I’m okay?” he asked cautiously. “This is normal? I’m not sick? I-it’s not a grimwalker thing?”

“No, no,” said Alador, trying to compose himself. “If anything, it’s a teenager thing.”

“So I’m okay? I’m not dying?”

“No, no no,” said Darius, wiping a tear from his eye. “Although, it would probably be in your best interest to put on a scarf if you plan on going to her house today. If her fathers see that, I’m quite certain their reaction won’t be as humorous.”

“So it is a bad thing?” Hunter asked, still not understanding the concept of a hickey. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Well, as one of your guardians, I’ll have to consult with Camila on how to answer that question when it comes to something like this,” chuckled Darius as he prepared his scroll to take a photo to show Camila on their next weekly wine and cheese night

“So, it’s not a curse or something? It doesn’t mean Willow is secretly mad at me or upset?”

“Well now, that’s something you’ll have to ask her to be sure,” said Darius sincerely as he went to fix Hunter a plate for breakfast. “But, as a former teenager, I think it’s safe to say she’s definitely not upset with you, little prince.”

[starplusfourletters]

(way too many) thoughts on the ahsoka show

It was fine? I was really afraid there would be something I hated. And there was nothing I hated. Sad but true that that’s the bar for new SW material atm.

I really liked ep5; ep5 will probably get a rewatch. I liked the casting. The visuals were pretty cool. Huyang was a treasure.

So we’re really going with “the Force is in everyone so everyone can use the Force if you just try hard enough”? I… kind of hate that. That somehow feels ableist of me to say. But this is a heckin fantasy universe I feel like some people Really Are That Special, y’know?

Exception that proves the rule: A Force-less Sabine is still VERY SPECIAL. In Rebels, she can hold her own in a fight just as much as Kanan or Ezra. She’s extremely competent without the Force. She’s somehow less competent in this show

She really is just the worst here in ways that I do not remember her being in Rebels. I guess arguably Ezra was the one with Terminal Protagonist Syndrome in that show? And she caught it from him before he left?

I feel like what this season WANTED to be about – and honestly it’s the lowest hanging fruit possible for a show titled “Ahsoka” – is the tension between Ahsoka’s past / her relationship with her master and her future / her relationship with her apprentice. But I don’t think they actually hit a balance there, because they just did not make her relationship with her apprentice very compelling. Three reasons for this:

1. My bias. There are very few things that start with “Ahsoka &” that would get my attention more than “Ahsoka & Anakin.” Feel like I’m not alone on that one tho

2. Established canon. It’s already an uphill battle because Ahsoka and Sabine don’t have much of a relationship in Rebels. I’m honestly not sure they ever have a conversation. I remember Sabine being like “wow she’s cool much cooler than my idiot adopted brother”, and maybe that would be a place for a mentor figure relationship to start, if Sabine weren’t already DROWNING in mentor figures. It’s not that they have nothing in common, they are just straight up not a focal point of Rebels S2.

Hey you know who canonically has latent Force abilities? And maybe needs some training? And whom Ahsoka would have a Complicated feeling about without even needing a prior established relationship? Someone with mutually incompatible daddy issues? Someone deep enough in the cultural zeitgeist she literally would need no introduction?

Yes I KNOW it’s never gonna be canon and I should just go back to AO3 but it’s RIGHT THERE HRRRRRGGGGHHHHH

3. But a lot of the issues with Ahsoka & Sabine as a focal point are of the showmakers’ own creation. You’re telling me they have a relationship now? Fine, CONVINCE me of that:

First they shoot themselves in the foot by not giving us any information about how Sabine became Ahsoka’s apprentice originally. Why did Sabine want to become a Jedi when she didn’t want that in Rebels? DID she want to become a Jedi? What did she want to learn from Ahsoka? Why did Ahsoka decide to take an apprentice at that time and not any time before or after? How did she feel about it? And why pick Sabine, who is, and this is true, Not Very Good at the Force? Who approached whom, or did they run into each other accidentally? I suppose answering some of these questions might require answering “where was Ahsoka between 3 BBY and 4 ABY?” and they aren’t ready to do that yet, but guys. GUYS. If you’re trying to tell me how Ahsoka and Sabine fix their relationship, you gotta tell me why I care first.

I know I'm harping but I really cannot emphasize enough that "fuck it I'm gonna go round two on Found Family" is an arc-defining character beat for both Ahsoka AND Sabine and the fact that the audience doesn't get to see it really makes me question whether the powers that be themselves know what it looks like

Then we get vanishingly little information about why they broke up, and all of it is provided by Huyang. And what I’m picking up from what we have is “Sabine got too Revenge Quest-y, and Ahsoka got nervous.” I don’t even know where to begin here – maybe with the fact that if Sabine decided to go on a murder rampage, she wouldn’t need the Force, lol. We know Sabine’s family died, she wanted to go to Mandalore, and Ahsoka didn’t want her to. So… did Sabine go? How did she end up back on Lothal? Who left who? Was Ahsoka worried for Sabine’s safety, or that she was getting too Dark Side-y, or both? What juicy terrible intergenerational-trauma-driven things did they say to each other when they broke up? I want to compare and contrast this with Ahsoka leaving Anakin, but I do not have the information to do so because there are zero details and the info we DO have is from ANOTHER CHARACTER. Again, if this season is about this relationship, TELL ME WHY I CARE.

To me this is the same cardinal sin as Picard S1 – implying that some really interesting stuff happened when the audience wasn’t watching, and that it explains why the characters are behaving the way they are, and then… not disclosing that information. EXCEPT PICARD GAVE US MORE THAN THIS fjdghjfghjkhkd

I was not on Tumblr when I was watching Picard S1. Probably for the best.

But okay, they have a history, the show is gonna be about them, sure let’s move on. AND THEN THEY SPEND LIKE HALF THE EPISODES NOT EVEN IN THE SAME GALAXY. The time they do spend in the same room is 75% generic sniping. As someone who came into this way more invested in the Ahsoka & Anakin relationship, ep5 was very much NOW BACK TO THE GOOD PART

And the couple of beats they do have together have me going HUH? After ep2 I spent most of a day debating myself on whether there’s a missing scene, between Sabine getting stabbed and waking up in the hospital, where we see Ahsoka actually REACT. On one hand, Ahsoka would be upset, maybe we as the audience can fill in the gaps and we don’t need to spend time on it. On the other hand, maybe we do, tho? At the time I was thinking about how we haven’t seen Ahsoka truly emotionally vulnerable since TCW with the exception of “Shroud of Darkness” and maybe “Twilight of the Apprentice.” She has a very normal range of emotions, and she expresses them in very controlled ways, and I just wanna see what she looks like when that breaks down, ya know? What’s weird to me is that in ep4 when Ahsoka thinks Sabine is dead we do get this beat; she gets Real Mad there for a second. So maybe what we’re learning is it was a double beat and they should have cut the stabbing thing entirely I mean come on they had to have known they were gonna catch flack for that. Then again, having that moment shows the audience that Ahsoka does give a shit, more than she wants to admit and more than she typically shows Sabine, which is a fun compare/contrast with Anakin, and it might have given me a better understanding of the relationship if it had come earlier.

The other big beat is Sabine deciding to help the baddies. That is just such a devastatingly terrible decision. So bad, in fact, that I feel like we’re supposed to be drawing parallels to Anakin. Their whole “screw over the galaxy to save one person” thing. Except 1) Sabine is not Anakin and 2) in order for that to be interesting, Ahsoka needs more information than I think she has. She knows Padme died around the same time Anakin totally lost his shit, and that’s about it. Which is actually a fun little thought experiment: what assumptions does Ahsoka make about the causality there? The only people who could have given her more intel are Palpatine, Obi-Wan, and Vader – unlikely. So IF the show is about the lines between Anakin and Ahsoka and Sabine, Sabine’s choice here could be central to that, and crucially to Ahsoka’s understanding of that, except it’s just for the audience I guess?

I do really like that Ahsoka’s extremely chill about what Sabine did, though. Ahsoka “Eh Shit Happens” Tano. Somehow her lesson from all this is “masters support their apprentices literally no matter what. Citation: Mine did.” That’s an unhinged take and I expect nothing less from my blorbo.

WHICH IS WHY WE SHOULD HAVE AT LEAST GOTTEN A FLASHBACK TO THE SITUATION IN WHICH AHSOKA DIDN’T SUPPORT SABINE HRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH

I realize that I’m really tearing into this thing pretty much just for not being something it isn’t. Like, it’s not BAD. But maybe its weaknesses stem from not committing to being about any one thing. It’s kind of about intergenerational trauma, it’s kind of a Rebels Part Two, it’s kind of a Filoniverse installment, it’s kind of a worldbuilding exercise. And that’s not necessarily too much material for an 8-hour show. It’s more like the powers that be DECIDED that was too much material.

TLDR, footage of me after pretty much everything star wars that’s come out since the Disney acquisition:

[aita-blorbos]

"AITA for caring way too much about the cleanliness of my friend?" Okay, maybe asshole might be putting it too harshly, nor am I the hole of a donkey, though I will go with the format since that’s what prior posts have done…

I (13F) am involved in this very fun friend group consisting of AR(16F), AM(13F) and AY(16?F). We each have our own wacky misadventures, and when we’re not off running into friends, weirdos, weirdo-friends or resolving incidents, we hang out with each other! My house is pretty big despite doubling as a greengrocer store, and for some reason the family’s okay with it.

Though my main reason for posting this is in regards to some things I feel about AR. She… doesn’t have very hygienic parameters, saying that it’s overrated, despite the fact that this has been the catalyst for several battles of the not-lethal, mostly silly kind. I, on the other hand…take this very personally because the irrational variables that AR’s stench has to my olfactory senses IS UNACCEPTABLE!!! IT’S LIKE 20 UNWASHED GYM KIDS IN THE SAME ROOM BUT IN ONE PERSON! Worst of all, she thinks once a week every month is going to cut it! More like cut the cheese, phee-yewwww! @_@

(I mean blue cheese, by the way. Don’t even think about having it. Just. Don’t.)

So! I’ve taken it upon myself to remind AR to take care of herself in the physical sense! Every day! Every week! Every… well, anything! Now everyone’s just taking issue with it for some reason! AM’s staring at me like I am some weirdo, even going so far as to say that I’m getting additionally bizarre on this topic! Saying over and over again that while AR does smell funny, she doesn’t like how hung up I am about this!

For obvious reasons AR’s acting is kind of annoyed towards me… come on, I’m just trying to look out for your health! People have made jokes about you regarding this, why are you surprised?! Being spick and span is an important fundamental when it comes to your appearance, how dare you gawk at meee!!!

What concerns me the most however is that AY, who holds the top candle and top spot for being the most unintentionally quirky of the group is telling me with entire sincerity and forwardness to “please stop these kooky tangents about AR’s odor”. Like, huh???? I’m just trying to explain to AR and the rest of her friends that being a slob is a no-good move! All it does is enforce negative parameters of self-care, and taking a shower or a bath could help! Why is everyone here treating me like I’m somehow walking upside-down? (Though considering what happens from time to time, I don’t think that’s out of the question…)

I don’t think I am TA (the…you know), because I’m trying to make sure AR is cleaner instead of having the stench of 10 durians on a hot summer day and everyone else is acting like their noses are broken when it comes to this! At the same time, AM and AY are growing somewhat uncomfortable, maybe by the truth that AR really needs to try cleaning herself up more, or as they keep saying, because I’m bringing this up way too much?! This is important! AR needs to be presentable and fresh! Not looking like she just walked out of a dingy dungeon…

With everything in mind, I shall reiterate the main point. Am I the…ahem, asshole? Or… if we’re going with the more suitable explanation according to the problem explained here…

Am I the weirdo?! Please say no, please say noooo!

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Breaking down the comics: BENDIS. PART 3. 

READING THINGS SO YOU DON'T HAVE TO! 

Part 1 HERE. 

Part 2 HERE. 

This is the final bit! The last three! You ready? I can’t stress how much you aren’t ready for this. 

Issue #10

This cover is kinda meh. They could have done better. Maleev really likes drawing those steel beams though. He went “Man, you know what’s fun and cool? BEAMS.” I can respect that. 

Alright. Reading the title page to make sure nothing else changed when I wasn't looking... 

Looks the same. Just an added line. 

"In the ensuing battle through the streets of Los Angeles, Echo dies at the hand of Nefaria and Moon Knight falls into an uncontrollable berserker rage." 

Makes it sound cooler than it actually IS. 

So we get the same picture we left off with in the last issue only this time they've edited in a dead Echo at the forefront. I don't need to show you that. Seems like they could have given us something different and just used one of the alternate images for dramatic effect. 

We get a collage of action. We see bloody claws, glowing Count eyes attacking, blood across Marc's chest, red explosions, Marc screaming, more blood, and a dead Echo. 

It's dramatic and has a certain flow to it. It does encapsulate Marc's current state of mind pretty well. 

And then... 

We cut to a street and see a TAXI CAB. And a man in a flat cap!!!!! 

….I swear my heart just skipped a beat and I got SOOOOOO fucking excited and then I remembered what was actually happening and now I'm just MAD again. Because… Even after ALL THAT. After everything that happened in the last issues… If somehow…SOMEHOW…Jake suddenly actually stepped in and then we saw Steven… It would have saved this. That Marc didn’t need Fake Cap and Wolverine and Spider-Man. That what he needed all this time was right there… Sure, it still would have been messy, but it could have been explained as Marc breaking down and Fictives coming in or Persecutors or SOMETHING. And I’m sitting here crying because THAT could have been good. And instead we get…THIS. 

Because...This isn't the TV show. This is real. 

"What have you been doing all night, Marlene?" 

He asks Marlene. 

"Waiting for you, Steven." 

ALRIGHT. Let's break this down page by page. 

So Bendis is FINALLY acknowledging that Jake, Marc, and Steven all exist. 

We see Jake coming home in his cab to Marlene. 

It's very reminiscent of Moench. Jake takes them home. Jake always takes them home. There's something to that. 

And once he walks into the house with Marlene, he's no longer Jake. Jake very rarely liked interacting with Marlene, much less hanging out in any of their posh homes. 

And just like in Moench's run, she addresses him as Steven. She always waited for Steven. 

She asks who they destroyed this time. 

He says that isn't fair. 

And it isn't fair. But Marlene started to get bitter towards them in the end. She suffered her own losses and she started to blame him for them. She always hated Marc and loved Steven. And Marc destroyed so much of their life. 

We see Moon Knight asking to go in, but we see the Avenger's masks in the background. 

Notice how Wolverine is on top. 

Marc assumes that Frenchie is the one in the costume. He knows Frenchie left him a long time ago. His oldest and closest friend. The only one that knew Marc Spector as Marc Spector. 

The insistence that "SOMEONE" has to go out because they don't know what's happening implies that someone else is in control and they are all locked out. 

The costume is empty. He doesn't know who'se wearing it. He doesn't know who is inside it. Maybe no one. 

He's confused because he's lost control of his own situation and lost control of everything. 

Because it doesn't matter who he tries to be, who he loves, or what he does... Marc Spector still "Ruins everything he touches." 

He wakes up in a hospital bed, RESTRAINED to the bed with a security guard outside. 

The implication is pretty obvious. And honestly, this is something Marc has dealt with before. And probably something that brings back a lot of bad memories for him. 

He's waking up somewhere he doesn't know where he is, he can't remember how he got there, he doesn't know what happened, he doesn't know who has been out, and he's locked up. 

He's able to make a phone call. 

Detective Hall shows up! 

"Where is he?" 

"He's down the hall." 

"Has he said anything?" 

"He's in pretty bad shape." 

"When do his prints come back from the lab?" 

"Prints?" 

"You didn't fingerprint him? A costumed hero lies dead and bloody in the street and you don't print him?" 

"He's in bad shape. We thought--No one said--" 

"You have Moon Knight in custody. And you didn't think to PRINT him." 

Remember, Hall is from NY. He's familiar with who Moon Knight is. What he can do. What he's known to do. 

"We--We secured the hallway. We have all of the other patients moved to other floors. I mean, it's not like we were--" 

Hall turns the corner to find at least five guards and staff knocked out in the hall, and Moon Knight's room and bed empty. 

Slowly the other officers start to get dizzy and also fall over. The hall has been gassed! 

Hey it’s Buck! 

I appreciate Buck. 

Buck: "Let's move along now..." 

Marc: "I'm beginning to love you, Buck." 

Buck: "Well, that takes the sting off the fact that I know I'm going to hell for this. I just sleep-gassed a hospital." 

Marc: "Seriously...Thank you." 

Buck: "The girl didn't make it." 

Marc: "I told her--I told her to run." 

Buck: "I ain't blamin' you. She's a big girl. I'm just saying." 

Marc: "This is going to...haunt me for a while." 

Buck: "Imagine how she feels." 

Marc: "What happened to...@$@@ing Count Nefaria?" 

We head to some place where we find the Count in pretty bad shape and having a tantrum. 

The...I don't know what this guy is.. Butler? We're going to go with butler. The butler tells the Count's visitor that "He's going to need a minute. It's been a very rough night." 

LOL I bet he had a rough night. Moon Knight tends to do that to people. Moon Knight beaten up and bleeding? Imagine what the other guy looks like. 

"From what I understand, this Moon Knight character got in what can only be called a lucky shot. He stabbed Lucino just as he was preparing a fatal blow. The blow backfired. The police arrived to find Lucino struggling to regain his...Composure. You see, he is not a young man. Containing this kind of power is a true effort in the best circumstances. That's why he needs you." 

We get the identity of the visitor and...Ugh. Okay. THIS Villainess I know. 

Madame Masque. 

If I know her, why don't I know the Count? These are the questions I ask myself. 

She's apparently his DAUGHTER. 

Some of you more well read comic fans may recognize her or her name. ALRIGHT. She was created by Stan Lee and co. back in 1967. Originally named Giulietta Nefaria, but later changed to Whitney Frost. 

She's the daughter of Count Nefaria...And she's historically been the occasional love interest of Tony Stark, Iron Man. 

(Yeah... Tony gets around ALMOST as much as Matt Murdock. ....almost.) 

Originally she wore a golden mask to cover her disfigured face. Her face has since healed, but she still wears the mask. 

Apparently her mother died giving birth to her and the Count wanted her to live a respectable life so he adopted her out to Byron Frost, who worked for Nefaria. 

She's had some back and forth with being a villainess and showing compassion to the heroes (mostly Tony. She’s got a love hate going on with Tony). 

All that aside, we head back to Marc's mansion. 

Marc is listening to his voice mails. 

His assistant is calling to check up to see if he's still alive since she hasn't heard from him in a while. 

He's still healing and in pain. It was a pretty hard fight, after all. Not to mention Echo... 

Wolverine shows up and tells Marc to get up. 

"I can't. You're the reason I'm here!" 

"You're the reason you're here, Bub. You better get up because I guarantee you, Nefaria is up and looking for YOU." 

"And what would you hae me do?!" 

"Finish what you started." 

"I hate you." 

"I don't care. Finish what you started. He's got an Ultron. You're an Avenger. Echo was an Avenger. Avenge her. Save this city." 

Honestly, Marc needs time. He never gives himself time. And for once, Marc is in bed TRYING to give himself time. Trying to feel things and heal and he isn't getting to. I feel for him. 

We head over to the morgue where an autopsy is being done on Echo. I don't need to show you these pictures. 

The doctors discuss who has authority over her body. FBI or the LAPD who brought her in. 

Just as they are about to start, Madame Masque busts in and shoots everyone. 

She recognizes Echo's body, but can't place who she is. 

She finds the weapon staff that Buck outfitted with Vibranium. 

It's a lead and she calls her people to check the black market for rescent buys. She's going to trace it back to Marc. 

We head to the police HQ to find the Detective Hall interviewing Snapdragon again. 

He has a still image of Madame Masque in the morgue. He asks her to identify her. 

Snapdragon does so. Noting that "Her and her dad have what you'd call a strained relationship." 

Snapdragon urges Detective Hall to either bust the Count quickly or get her out of there because she's terrified of Madame Masque and she's a sitting duck there. 

Detective says he's doing his best, but there are stops in place above him. 

We head back to Marc's place. We see Buck parking outside and about to open the garage when he notices red dots, indicating he's in someone's sights. 

"Son of a--" He reaches for his gun. 

"Rrr! N'me!" 

"What?" 

"Don't worry about me! She got the Ultron head! She has Ultron! It's out in the open!" 

Poor Buck. 

Poor Marc. It’s about to get a lot worse for him. 

END ISSUE. Two more to go. 

The hospital scene gets to me. They find Moon Knight near death in the street next to a badly injured Count and a dead Echo and they cuff him to the bed. And then Bendis BLATANTLY showing us Jake. Letting us know that he’s aware of Steven and Jake and that they DO in fact exist in this story, but he’s not going to give them to us? That they just aren’t there? Also, Did you see how wonderful that cap looked? HOW WONDERFUL THAT JAKE LOOKED?! I will forever be angry that we are denied Maleev drawing us Jake or Steven. …And giving Marc a Goatee when Jake isn’t there to enjoy it. >:(

ISSUE #11! 

There the guys are staring again. 

But I DO like this cover. Black and white and the single pillar in the middle. It's a cover of mourning. 

And the folds in that cape? LOOK AT THAT CAPE. 

Marc's in for a bad time. It's about to get REALLY bad for him. 

Alright title page... Oh look, they're changing it just enough to make his deal with Echo even more potent. 

"He has teamed up with (and fallen in love with) another former Avenger, Echo.

Echo dies at the hand of Nefaria, driving Moon Knight off the deep end and setting him on a course for bloody vengeance. Before he can do that, however, Nefaria's daughter, the assassin Madame Masque, breaks into Spector's house and steals the head of Ultron..." 

Not to mention shooting Buck. I hope Buck survives. I like Buck. 

We open on SHIELD Helicarrier 1000 Feet over the Pacific Ocean. 

Hey, it's commander Hill! Nick Fury's right hand man and replacement after he died/ranoff/did his thing (dude does all of the above SO MANY TIMES all the time). 

Moon Knight is trying to call SHIELD. 

"They're using one of Captain America's secure lines." 

"Moon Knight." 

"It's coming from the Los Angeles Area. He's using old codes. From a discharged agent by the name of Buck Lime." 

"Okay, well, put him through. This should be annoying." 

I hate how much no one respects him and thinks of him as just that crazy guy that causes problems.

First of all, RUDE. She knows exactly who Moon Knight is and what his problems are. He had a psych eval when he joined the Avengers the FIRST time. You know she’s read the file. 

Second of all, Captain America should have informed SHIELD of the Count’s actions and locations just in case things DID get out of control. He seems like the sort of villain that they’d want to know the location of at all times, even if he wasn’t being active! 

She berates him for losing the Head, even though the plan was approved by Captain America. 

Buck tells htem that he put a tracker in the head, but when she blew up the garage, the responder was also blown up. He needs them to pick up the signal and send it to them. 

"No. You give ME the signal and I'll send a battalion of Hulkbuster Agents down there to--" 

"All due respect, but I think a lighter touch is needed." Marc makes excellent decisions. 

"Oh, you do? Says the man who 'lost' an Ultron." 

Back with Madame Masque, we see her with the Ultron head. She calls her father to tell him she has it. 

But... "I won't be meeting you. No. Not until you tell me the plan. What do you plan on doing with a homicidal artificlal intelligence you can't possibly control?" 

He tells her the plan (We don't get to hear it) and she suddenly changes her mind. 

"I didn't know that. No. Oh. Okay. Yes sir. I'll see you soon." 

Just as she's about to pack up and head out, a shadow catches her eye. 

Moon Knight pounces from above. 

He attacks with the shield, the webbing, and the claws. 

Wolverine yells to cut her and finish it. 

Marc forces her to get up close and personal and they both take some hard hits. 

Just when it looks like she has the upper hand, she looks back and suddenly realizes the Ultron head is gone! 

Buck has snatched it and is running away. 

Moon Knight manages to distract her until Buck makes it to the car and starts to drive away, her running after him. 

Moon Knight is still recovering from his earlier injuries so he's slower to get up and give chase. 

"Agh! Okay. That really hurt-" 

Wolverine: "Shut up and get up!" 

Madame Masque manages to shoot out his tires and stall his car. When he doesn't get out of the car, she starts trying to shoot his gas tank. 

Gas is now dripping heavily from his car and there are sparks all over. 

A silver Crescent shape appears above her and she shoots it up. 

It's just a cape! 

Spiderwebbing wraps up her guns and Moon Knight attacks. 

Just as he strikes, the car explodes, sending them both flying. 

Ah yes, the seeing the dead girlfriend telling you not to let her death be in vain and to make it mean something trope. 

Marc wakes up and forces himself to move just as Madame Masque is about to stab him. 

I'd again like to remind you that Marc Spector is specially trained in hand to hand combat. Everyone goes on about "Oh yeah this villain is a skilled fighter!" but they still don't have the training Marc has. Marc didn't just wake up one day and put on the mask with a little boxing degree under his belt. 

Boxing, street fighting, Army/Marines, Special ops, SHIELD, underground fight rings and cage fighting...And THEN his years of Mercenary training and how to get out of shit situations because he puts himself in BAD situations constantly and has to dig himself out. 

Not just that, he's a stubborn asshole who would 'rather take the punch than learn to duck' as Taskmaster once said. (My favorite depiction of Marc.) 

So a scary lady like Madame Masque means nothing to him. 

And I appreciate that Bendis and Maleev recognize this. Another point in their corner. (Unlike with Bendis and Burrow who showed him getting his ass handed to him by some no one over and over again.)

“And that’s why you don’t steal from the craziest Avenger on the West-” 

Marc, don't encourage this. 

Marc takes off her mask and finds a beautiful perfect face. 

"She doesn't even need the mask. She's crazier than you are." Wolverine snerks. 

What's this? Echo has joined the commentary. Is she a 'voice/personality' now too? 

"Well done, Spector. Don't forget Buck. ANd the Ultron Head." But why does she speak like Captain America? 

"Oh No...Buck." 

Marc finds Buck laying next to the exploded car. 

"Oh no. Not you too, Buck. Not you too. I'm so..." 

Buck turns around with his gun at the ready. "NGYAA!" 

"HO!" 

"AGH!" 

"It's okay. It's me." 

"Whee is--Did you--?"

"I got her." 

"That--!" 

The police arrive via Helicopter and Marc tells them it's time to go. 

He helps Buck get up and they make a run for it. 

And I must say… The writing between Buck and Marc is top notch. I appreciate the humor they have. The banter. Even Marc poking fun at himself. He’s relaxing around Buck and you don’t see him do that often with people. He’s told Buck that he has problems and Buck still accepts him (even though he hasn’t really said the full extent of his problems). I’m going to give Bendis another point for giving us Buck. 

Thank you Buck. 

Back with the Count! He's watching the breaking news on TV about the latest thing with Moon Knight. 

The Local police arrive at his place. They have a warrant and subpoena. 

"There's quite a few of them. They said it had something to do with Moon Knight." 

"Moon Knight..." Yeah... Count is learning what it means to get Moon Knight under your skin. 

Do you have any idea HOW MANY major marvel hitters have come up across Moon Knight and gone, "Please. Let me face ANYONE...ANYONE...but Moon Knight again." They'd rather fight the Hulk than end up in Moon Knight's sights again. 

Even if they 'won' or kicked his ass... At what cost? This man knows how to be a PROBLEM. It's what he's best at. Marc Spector: professional problem. 

Anyways, END ISSUE. ONE TO GO. 

ANd this is the problem. I liked that issue. It was fun, it was quirky, it had Buck, it had Moon Knight doing what he does best. But then you add in the Wolverine aspect and also the discrimination and then the potential that Echo is ALSO now joined his voices/personalities in his head? 

LAST ISSUE

Issue #12! 

I really love his use of grays and whites. And he draws a fantastic moon. The framing of this image is just spot on. 

Alright. Let's get this bread. 

On the title page! 

We got the usual false info on the start of Moon Knight (I can't believe they changed the story and how wrong they made it.) 

The usual bit about his TV show, Count Nefaria, his hidden new split personality disorder (LOL no). His love with Echo and her death... 

And lastly we have him "ruthlessly" dispatching Madame Masque to get the Ultron head back. 

Then the police catching up with Count Nefaria and making him even more pissed at Moon Knight. 

HERE WE GO! 

We open with the police serving the warrant and trying to get into the house to find the Count. 

Just then, the COunt takes off, flying away and destroying a Police copter in the process. Which was totally unnecessary cause they were just there for light and had no weapons. 

Back at police HQ, Snapdragon hears about the Count getting away and tells the police they had a deal to get her out of there. 

The captain goes to get her. It's time to transport her to protective custody. 

And then the Count shows up. 

"Captain Quaid. You and I had a deal. Payments were made." 

Yeah, that's what I thought. 

The Captain tells the officers to stand down. 

There's an argument and the Count laser eye blasts the Captain to death. The police open fire and Snapdragon takes cover. 

He's pretty pissed at Snapdragon, telling her that he hadn't plan to leave her there to rot after all. That he was going to get her out later and she betrayed him. 

As he's ranting, someone comes up behind him. "Hey, Nefaria..." 

The art here. The action pose. The detail in the rubble… The SASS. The absolute frustration that someone as small time as Moon Knight is this much of a problem. 

This gives me joy. 

Also, in the last Issue, Marc's outfit was pretty torn up. And the issue before that his outfit was pretty torn up. 

He must keep on hand SO MANY outfits. Not to mention capes. 

So here we are again... Marc going up against an over powered villain up close and personal. 

You know what his only advantage is? 

(Look at him. Sitting there on all that rubble like a trouble maker. )

The fact that he is such a problem. 

"Marc Spector: Profession Problem" really should be on his business cards. 

While the Count is distracted by Moon Knight, Snapdragon takes up hier own offense. She shoots at the Count then opens fire on Moon Knight too. 

"Nice. Real nice." He blocks her blows with his shield. 

Then we see Wolverine and the newest member to the innacurate Headmate group: Echo. 

Echo has taken up the voice of reason, since Wolverine killed off Captain America and Spider-man in a previous issue, I guess? 

"Tell him it's time to make a deal." 

Marc tries to make a deal with Nefaria. "Kill me and you'll never get the head of Ultron. And I mean NEVER." 

He then tells him that he's going to lose his empire, his daughter, and his west coast bragging rights. 

Yeah... Count isn't listening. He's pretty enraged. 

It’s kinda funny really. Like he can’t even believe he’s never considered that Moon Knight could ever be his problem.

(Dude’s starting to sound like talking to me must sound like.) 

Moon Knight keeps his paces, but this dude is fast and strong. 

He snaps the claws apart then throws Moon Knight around a bit. 

"Here's what's going to happen according to me. You're going to give me my Ultron head. You're going to give it to me and then you are going to pay off the sizable debt you've racked up. Not with money...but with service. Do I need to explain myself again?" 

He trashes Marc around a bit, ripping up that nice new outfit. 

"And maybe I won't kill you like I killed your little Girlfriend. You have no idea what's at stake here, boy. You have no idea how important that head is." 

Marc tells him that the head is outside. in the parking lot. "No more killing...No more..." 

So the Count drags Marc out of the station to the lot. 

"Yeah, he called the Avengers." 

Oh look! The Avengers! Who we got on the team today? Let's see... Thor, Wolverine, Spiderwoman, Captain Marvel, Beast, Iron Man and...Someone I don't recognize. And they've also apprehended Snapdragon too. 

And Marc, bless his Sass... 

Beaten to a pulp he looks up at the Count: "You see them too, right?" 

Now, according to the things I looked up so I could figure out just WHO the Count is.. He's fought Thor more than a few times and it was mostly an even match, but Thor usually got an upper hand. 

The Count goes on the attack and Thor lays him out with a good ol' Thor hammer. 

Marc takes the opprotunity to crawl over to him. "That's for Echo, you son of a bitch." 

And he punches out the Count. 

And that would be great if that was it. But it isn't. 

We head back to Marc's partially blown up house. 

Tony Stark wants to see the head. 

Marc hands it over. "Ta-Dah!" 

"It's the real damn deal." 

"Thanks for coming to take it off our hands, Stark." 

"Hey, thanks for keeping it out of that nut job's hands. Thanks for calling us when you did. Sorry we didn't get there five minutes faster." 

"What did Nefaria want with it?" 

And Tony tells him. 

Ultron is a highly advanced artificial intelligence that is far smarter than any of them and keeps getting smarter. It wants to wipe out all of humanity. 

It's also out there. They destroyed all the avatar bodies, but the program is out there hiding and waiting and planning. 

Tony speculates that Nefaria either knows 'something we don't--like where Ultron is or what the Ultron plan is...Or he's trying to get ahead start. Trying to get in on the ground floor or when the big bad robot comes to kill us. Maybe he wanted something to Bargain with." 

"I really don't want that in my house anymore." 

Does he think that you can’t have mental health issues and still have a normal conversation or do a normal job? 

The second mental health is breeched no one trusts them to do anything. Or they look the other way then if anything goes out of the normal they go “Oh yeah I always knew he was trouble. He’s crazy, you know.” 

Pisses me off. 

I love Buck. He gets it. He notices when Marc is having a moment and he also knows that exhaustion isn’t great for things. Despite it all, Buck is there for him and he’s willing to help him along the way. 

(And you are never going to see Buck again. He’s quickly erased thanks to the 3 year gap after Moon Knight is canceled. Moved on or like he never happened. This upsets me.) 

You know what else upsets me? 

There's a new headmate now. He just had a frank discussion with Tony Stark. Captain America and Spider-man headmates were killed off. So now he has...

Wolverine, Echo, and Ironman. Three personalities that are NOT going to get along and have VERY different instructions and opinions. Back to square one. 

wtf

THREE MONTHS LATER. 

Studio Back Lot, Marc arrives and is told by his assistant that the show is canceled. 

Not making enough money or something or other. 

(The joke here is that he’s crazy so they expect him to do crazy things.) 

Marc. Let her go. Remember how we talked about you making BAD DECISIONS? 

Marc… MARC. 

Okay. Hold on a second. I need to look something up. 

So, as I noted in part 1... This was one of Bendis' less successful revivals. He re-wrote Moon Knight's past, gave him a new location, and then completely redid his character and D.I.D as well as getting rid of without explaining Steven and Jake. In fact, it's implied that he never HAD Steven and Jake and that they were only used as "Cover personas" and that his "Multiple Personality" issue is new and hidden as he 'imagines' the Avengers working along side him. 

It's used as a ploy to keep the crazy in Moon Knight while also trying to make him interesting when he was ALREADY interesting and Bendis just stripped what was interesting about him away without explanation or cause. 

You don't take the stripes off the Zebra and call it a fancy horse and still expect people to be interested in it like they were before. 

According to one review write up: "It never really caught fire with new fans, and longtime devotees didn't love the concept of tying him into some of Marvel's biggest heroes." 

It was a huge flop. 

During this run, Moon Knight also had a major team appearance (first in over 20 years) in "Secret Avengers". In fact, he was popping up all over the place in this time frame in small side projects and background things. 

And then.... NOTHING. But what about the promise of "He will return in Age of Ultron"? 

WELL....

Age of Ultron, 2012. He appears prominently in Issues #2, 4, 5, 10, and Avengers Assemble Age of Ultron #14. But it is not considered a canon timeline for him and has no affect on the main story. He’s just kinda there. You KNOW how I feel about Marvel events that just take all the characters and mash them together with writers that don’t know how to handle these characters. They just kinda go off of cliff notes on the most recent run that’s been published. 

Let's take a peek at how Moon Knight was handled after the failed Bendis run...  

Avengers Assemble: Age of Ultron

Written by Al Ewing

Art by Butch Guice

Editor by Lauren Sankovitch 

…..THANKS BENDIS. I HATE IT.

Dialogue here because I had to squint:

"Marc Spector. Moon Knight. I've worked with him. Unstable, but useful. So long as he can keep himself together. Right now, he's not doing well. He's breaking. It's in his voice. He needs something certain. Something he can rely on. He needs the Black Widow. The one in his head."

So this is what happens when someone mismanages a character like Moon Knight. The stigma…and it is stigma…sticks. It’s harder to make the good things stick than it is to make the mad things last. Just look at BEMIS. 

Up to this point, there had been a LOT of misrepresentation for Moon Knight. He just kept getting crazier and crazier. More and more violent. Some writers took it to the extreme and others tried to mellow it out but gave him less of Steven and Jake and more of rageful Marc. 

When Bendis redefined Marc’s mental disorder, there was only one way to go with it and it was right into crazy town. The Avengers treated him with kiddie gloves and ‘played’ to his delusions. 

This is how bad depictions of disabilities can snowball. And snowball it did. 

THREE YEARS. No one knew what to do with him. Did they take him back to where he was, cutting faces off of people? Or into the wild and angry phase? Or did they try to carry on what Bendis did here? 

It’s any wonder that it took three years for someone to step up and say “Let me try.” and is it any wonder that their arch was so PASSIVE? 

So here I am with a question: Was this a good run? 

Pros: The art was good and consistent. The dialogue was good and believable. The action was balanced. The stillness was balanced. We had very good fighting scenes with good combat. I FELT for Marc. We got to see Marc in vulnerable situations trying to deal with his failing mental health and his grief. He broke my heart. We also got Buck! It made me legit laugh a few times. 

Cons: VERY POORLY DONE REPRESENTATION OF D.I.D AND MENTAL HEALTH IN GENERAL THAT GOT IT CANCELED FOR THREE YEARS AND SPIRALLED US INTO SUCH POOR DEPICTiONS AND STIGMA. 

The hardest part is that when it was good, it was AMAZING. But when it was bad…. 

So do I forgive Bendis? Do I forgive him for taking on a project he should NOT have taken on? Is it enough for me to enjoy the run and recommend it? Is it enough for me to say “It’s great if you overlook the piss poor representation of D.I.D and Ableism.”? 

I can see why after reading this run, I set it aside and marked it as ‘the worst’ and refused to touch it again. Was it bad enough to warrant that reaction? At the time… Yes. But looking back on it… Perhaps I was a little harsh? Holding it up against Aaron, BEMIS, and even Pepose… It’s top of the line. But how sad is that? 

How sad that we have to hold up something so wrong and say “Hey, it wasn’t the worst so I give it a two thumbs up”? 

We should expect better. Because this comic deserves better. This run should have been up there with Lemire. Instead, it’s down here with “Skip this one”. And that makes me sad. 

What do you guys think? Do the pros outweigh the cons? Is this run still a skip, or is it a read ‘but don’t pay attention to these things’?