#i love this panel. so much its unreal

[dizzybizz]

day 4 is reach and naturally my brain reached for an arkco moment...

[moongothic]

Hey so also have Sir Crocodile brainrot and have recently reread Impel Down. This is probably nothing at all but it made me question the artistic choice made. Like we dont see Crocodiles full face until Luffy recognizes him. Before that tho he joins in on Jinbei & Ace's convo about Whitebeard and is shown to (non-)react to Boa Hancocks visit. But we only get his face in shadows or see the hook. Which. Why. Oda we know what he looks like and who the guy with the stitches on his face and the hook is. WHY OBSCURE HIM.

My friend, this is what we call a "cocktease"

Okay jokes aside, yes it was an artistic choise. More specifically, a storytelling technique Oda masterfully used to build up hype and excitement to Crocodile's eventual reveal and re-introduction into the story.

So thanks to Ms Goldenweek's cover story (which ran back during Water 7/Enies Lobby) we already knew Crocodile along with Daz, Bon-chan and Galdino had all been sent to Impel Down, when we also learned about Impel Down, Marineford and the Gates of Justice (+ the giant whirlpool between the three locations) to some extent. ((Now of course, if you were an anime-only then you would've had no idea about the former BW members being in Impel Down. And even if you had read the manga you still would've had to actually pay attention to the cover story and its lore, and not forgotten all about it))

So even before Luffy decides he's going to head to Impel Down to save Ace, we know Crocodile's going to be somewhere down there. The second Luffy arrives there, we are immidiately reminded of the fact when Domino mentions Crocodile taking the traditional "bath" new inmates take at the entrance. And as we descend deeper and deeper into Impel Down, with those cuts to what's happening down at Level 6 every now and then, as well as with the Baroque Works Countdown, Oda time and time again keeps on reminding of us of Crocodile's looming presence in the background. This is all absolutely deliberate. Crocodile was arguably the most iconic (maybe not most popular but iconic) One Piece villian at the time, if given an opportunity of course the readers wanted to see him again. But just letting us see him right away would be anti-climactic, and distracting from what's actually important (Ace, and Luffy getting to him as fast as possible). So keeping him hidden could serve multiple purposes:

For one, Crocodile doesn't get to steal the spotlight from the other characters (at least not too early). We can focus on Luffy, Ace, all the new Impel Down characters and the other returning characters in peace, while Crocodile waits for his turn. Another thing is that Crocodile's presence being downplayed gives off the impression that perhaps him being there isn't that important to the story. Thus, him teaming up with Luffy to break out isn't such an obvious twist (and so when that happens, it's ever more hype as a result)

But indeed, the most important part is that by teasing us constantly through out Impel Down, Oda creates hype. He makes us the readers excited if/when we might get to see the bastard, even if it was just a quick little cameo. So when Luffy finally reaches Level 6 and we finally do get that reveal, everyone loses their fucking marbles over the HISASHIBURI DANA MUGIWARA when we finally get to see The Motherfucker Himself. (And indeed, then getting to see him fight alongside Luffy is cool as fucking hell, completely unexpected and absolutely delightful)

But there's also another thing building up to Crocodile's reveal does. Compare his original introduction to the re-introduction

Compare Crocodile at the height of his power and influence, to the absolute rock bottom he has hit. No longer happily laughing while looking down on people (literally), he's filthy, he has given up on life, with sunken eyes and a hollow look on his face, only moved by a thirst for petty revenge (/an opportunity to go out with a bang). He doesn't even get the whole page for his grand reveal anymore, he's been shuffled to the side so the plot can progress on the same page.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

And to some degree, this is kind of meant to be a shocking realization to the readers. That this is not the same Crocodile we remember from Alabasta, that Crocodile died when Luffy defeated him. This is just the husk that remains, a shadow of what was once there. It's a sad sight, and probably not what the readers who loved Crocodile The Villian wanted to see. It's not the epic Return of the (Evil) King they wanted. And that juxtaposition helps, because Crocodile doesn't return into the story as a villian, but as a frenemy/ally-on-thin-ice. And that idea is easier to signal to the readers in a lowkey manner when you do his re-introduction like this.

So yes, Oda refusing to show Crocodile's face until Luffy found him was 100% a deliberate artistic choise. This is fantastic storytelling

[everythingisubtext]

Woahhhh!!!!!! Look at this !!!!! Its so so so stunning I love it so much T-T thank you thank you thank you!!!!

Close-up:

Happy holidays, Archaic_serein, I'm your Ashville Secret Santa! 🎄The list of the themes you like started with "Marichat" and I'm afraid that's where my brain stopped XD I was also finally convinced to watch Spy x Family thanks to you, so I hope you'll like the little hints to the show in this drawing ᡣ𐭩

[imlosingitiswear]

Tw: pure vent and lots of screaming

I sincerely thought that I'll be able to keep this inside but the latest episode has made me mad beyond reason so I shall let the anger out, even if it's only for my mental health's sake and no one ends up reading it.

Spoilers alert (though I won't be talking about the events, just their execution) for ep 3

EXCUSE ME BUT WHAT THE LEGITIMATE HELL IS THIS ABOMINATION OF MINDLESSLY COMBINED MANGA PANELS WITH NO THOUGHT, CARE OR YEN SPENT ON ANY EFFORT ASIDE FROM SHINY LOOKING STILLS

I am an animator.

I have fallen in love with animation ever since I started watching anime.

My first anime was Kuroshitsuji.

My reason to be where I am today, creating what I do, fighting for what I believe is right and worthy of passion comes from Kuroshitsuji.

The reason I feel things the way I do comes from Kuroshitsuji.

And some business head only looking to steal as much of the already-limited-budget as possible IS NOT GOING TO BE THE REASON I FOREVER DESTAIN THE STORY AND CHARACTERS WHO COMPRISED MY FIRST EVER CONSCIOUS FEELINGS TOWARDS THE CRAFT OF ANIMATION.

Oh I'm sorry, WAS IT PERHAPS TOO HARD TO NOT ONLY LOOK AT THE SOURCE MATERIAL BUT ACTUALLY READ IT THE WAY INTENDED?

Was it TOO HARD TO ACTUALLY FEEL WHAT THE CREATOR WANTED YOU TO FEEL WHILE I'm not even gonna say reading cus its more of an EXPERIENCING THE MASTERPIECE THAT THE KURO MANGA HAS, IS AND CONTINUES TO BE NEARLY 20 YEARS AFTER ITS CREATION???

Was it THAT. HARD. TO PUT EFFORT INTO THE SOUND DESIGN AND TIMING OF YOUR SHOTS AND HOW THEY CONNECT TO THE OTHER SHOTS WITHOUT MAKING IT LOOK LIKE A FANCY POWERPOINT PRESENTATION???

I feel sorry for every animator who has had to bust their bum to make a shot look pretty and "appealing" even though that's absolutely not what the aesthetic of this project demands it to be but that is partially me being very attached to the og style and also finding NO REASON WHATSOEVER FOR THE COLORS TO BE THIS BRIGHT, MAKING THIS ANIME BLEND IN WITH EVERY OTHER ANIME FROM 2020 ONWARDS BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT PEOPLE LIKE RIGHT??? THAT'S WHAT KIDS THESE DAYS NEED - SOFT, CUTE, BIG EYED, PAINFULLY BRIGHT POWER POINT PRESENTATIONS WHO MAY OR MAY NOT MAKE NICE PC WALLPAPERS FOR A FEW WEEKS BEFORE THEY'RE FORGOTTEN FOR THEIR LACK OF UNIQUENESS AND RESPECT TOWARDS THE MATERIAL THEY ORIGINATE FROM

I have no idea how Yana feels about this.

I really, really need to know how Yana feels about this.

How is it possible for you to take some of the strongest scenes in the story and execute them in such a boring and cheap way, it's almost like you were doing it on purpose at this point.

Do you guys notice how the new seasons are OBVIOUSLY made by people who have a business and not a creative brain???

They don't care about respecting the aesthetic, ever since the first episode of the school arc when they literally trademarked "Yes, my lord." to be a phrase that sells the character more than it respects it.

The animation is so unbelievably average, it's unreal. The key frames are pretty, sure, but they're not what makes an animation, THEY'RE WHAT MAKES A MANGA AND THE MANGA IS ALREADY BEAUTIFUL BUT MORE THAN THAT, IT ALREADY EXISTS?!?

THE POINT OF THE ANIMATION IS TO MAKE IT MOVE, MAKE IT AN ENHANCED EXPERIENCE THAN READING THE SOURCE MATERIAL, MODERN ANIME HAS FORGOTTEN THAT.

Everything, EVERYTHING IS ABOUT THE MONEY AND HOW THE BIG BUSINESSHEADS CAN PROFIT FROM THE AVERAGE VIEWER BECAUSE THE STANDARD IS DYING, WE'RE BEING SLOWLY MANIPULATED INTO CHEAPER AND CHEAPER PRODUCTS AND IT ALL SUCKS AAH AND I'M SO TIRED OF IT

You know what didn't suck? THE VOICE ACTING, ABSOLUTELY AMAZING EXECUTION ON THE VAs PART, AT LEAST THAT ARTFORM IS GOING STRONG

But that's not the point...

The point is. We're not doing anything to change what's happening.

As I said, I don't know how Yana feels about this and if this is indeed what she wants from the show, then so be it.

But I find that hard to believe.

But that's just me.

All and all, I'm probably reanimating this episode because f everyone, f clover works producers, I hope they get the profit they're so desperately punishing us for cus maybe, just maybe, they might start thinking about preserving the aesthetic of their projects more than their fancy heating toilets

[jonayariley]

My Thoughts on Homestuck^2

I say this as someone who has been fairly critical of the Epilogues and Homestuck^2 - I think that HS2 (or Homestuck: Beyond Canon as it's properly called now) has the potential to be something positive again. I was really excited for HS2 at first (after not super loving the direction the Epilogues went in) but got really burned out on it. But I'll say a few things on why I think this can work:

Greater transparency in terms of what's going on with it. I think that James Roach and crew are in a position to be really up-front about what's going on and what's to come, and I think they've done that. James has always struck me as being a pretty even-keeled guy, and having worked with him in the past on both Friendsim 2 stuff and when he presents at SAHCon, yeah - definitely a solid choice in terms of organization and being willing to communicate.

I think there's a lot of room to bring the plot around. I'll admit I wasn't a huge fan of everything that was happening in HS2 (weird pacing, focus on Vriska stuff, weird cucking plotline, out of character stuff) - but I really think there's a way to judo throw that shit around into something good. My take has always been "meat and candy are two divergent, slightly-unreal timelines and there's something else going on here" and some of what I saw in the last couple upd8s seems to confirm this. Personally I think that could work well, and the theme of collapsing reality in on itself could work. The fact that the new upd8 starts off with some stuff I thought they'd forgotten about bodes well.

Writing so far is good - feels balanced, good character writing. It feels Homestuck-y but also it feels like its own thing, which I think is a good thing. Also, solid choices for writers - seeing @floralmarsupial on the list alone has me very excited about what's to come!

Art is good too! Very nice balance of styles and some really solid panel work! Nice use of limited motion in classic Homestuck style combined with a good combination of Act 6 bean style and sprite style.

So far, reactions seem to be pretty positive. In the past, some people were profoundly NOT NORMAL about HS2 - going so far as to harass and attack the folks working on it. I can't express how profoundly not okay this is! So far, I see folks being pretty positive about it overall, and I think that's good. The folks who don't like it are not liking it in a normal, not-harassing-the-crew way, which is good.

I trust the team involved - I've worked with several of the people involved on my own projects (Chumi, Kim, James) and I have a tremendous amount of respect for the other folks involved. Like, this is a solid core to build a team around. Kim doing art direction is a good thing.

On a related note, hearing that this is a truly independent thing with creative control in the hands of the current team is a big thing. I have good reason to believe that this is 100% genuine, and that the direction "Homestuck community involvement" is going in is a positive one. It's a process, but it seems to be moving in a positive direction.

Good community involvement, less adversarial feeling - James has been reaching out to the community at large in a way that feels much more open than HS2 was doing before. HS2 got to the point where it felt like it had this contentious relationship with the fandom where it wasn't just challenging readers within the context of the text, but challenging them as readers and fans of the work (if that makes sense).

There seems to be a real commitment to doing this thing in a way that isn't exploiting the artists, writers, and other creatives involved. To working with people in a fair and open way and allowing them to guide the creative vision of the work. And tbh that's one of the most positive signs I've seen from this whole process.

Remains to be seen how things shake out in the long term - especially with stuff like the upd8-to-upd8 pacing (something I felt like was really broken in HS2) and how some of the more contentious aspects are handled.

But I feel hopeful about this, and I would absolutely not have said that two or three years ago. Like, ngl - the whole thing with Jade/Rose/Kanaya hit me hard enough to make a whole divergent post-canon AU

(read Negotiated Consent and its sequels Ways of Being and This Sudden State of Mind, btw - I'm still quite happy with them)

but I've had time to think on this a lot and time to become significantly more involved in well-known Homestuck stuff (specifically Friendsim 2 and co-directing Stuck at Home Con) and, like... idk I feel like the annoyance got replaced with a kind of "I really wish things could be better" bittersweet feeling, because at the end of the day this whole thing is important to me, and there's a lot of folks in this fandom who aren't shit-ass individuals who harass creators, and I think the relationship between author(s) and work can be something good and positive.

So yeah, I would describe myself as "cautiously optimistic" about this whole situation. Homestuck is a work with a lot of baggage - both textually and in terms of fandom/creation history. I don't think that can just be wiped away, but also I do believe it can move in a better direction, and there's clearly still a lot of folks who would like to see that happen.

And yeah, I guess in my heart I'm still one of those people too.

[ariel-seagull-wings]

@the-blue-fairie @themousefromfantasyland

"It took writing this essay for me to understand the main reason I spend so much time thinking about the Vision’s penis.

I don’t care about uncovering its “truth”; the Vision is a fictional character, and even if he wasn’t, his truth would be his, and his alone.

What I do care about is figuring out what the phallocentric superhero genre wants me to think is true, which relates to my ongoing struggle to figure out where I might fit within a space that hasn’t historically welcomed me.

I want my version of events—in which Wanda and the Vision’s love triumphantly challenges gender and sexual norms—to be real, or at the very least possible, and am worried it never was.

Maybe Wanda’s queer pregnancy was just a happy accident, a “production error,” like DC Co-Publisher Jim Lee said of the first—and ultimately brief—on-panel appearance of Batman’s penis in 2018’s Batman: Damned #1.

If so, my feminist female gaze is like Wanda and the Vision’s progeny—unnatural, unreal, and properly disavowed.

For me, a “mature” superhero genre wouldn’t necessarily have to include explicit depictions of genitals or sex acts (though I’d be happy for it to be less prudish about these things—the decision to censor the Bat-penis smacks of homophobia). It would, however, acknowledge the diverse presences that have always existed within the genre’s absences.

Wanda and the Vision’s love can be real and meaningful without including penises or penetration. So can their sexual relationship. So can their family. So can my feminist female fandom.

A mature superhero genre—and mature superhero scholarship—would embrace diverse ways of filling holes, or, as the case may be, not filling them.

There is, of course, tremendous value in making sexuality—and especially diverse sexualities—manifest on the page and screen; not doing so can nurture feelings of shame and exclusion, in addition to perpetuating many harmful cultural myths. But I also continue to find value in stories that make sexuality manifest while preserving a degree of mystery.

Not knowing whether the Vision has a penis, and how he might use it if he does, makes (nearly) every possibility available, and I love that, because ideas turn me on as much as action does. If that’s juvenile, then so be it; I was happy with my pleasure until I was told I shouldn’t be.

Just like Wanda and the Vision were happy in their gothic suburban home, constantly kissing and cuddling and rarely not dressed as superheroes, because for them, for a while, nothing was absent, except guilt about loving who they wanted, how they wanted.

Exactly what that looked like is anyone’s guess. Or at least, it could be, if everyone’s guess was allowed to matter."

[russetfoxfur]

so i dont usually do liveblogs because i never show up to streams and also im not very good at reacting to stuff. However. i will make an exception because HGCZ IS OUT!! and i have seen so much hype about it that id be a fool to not at least read it. livereact will be under the cut for spoilers and. stuff.

- ok we arent even on the actual ZINE and the opening dedication?? "Of the arts, storytelling is one of the oldest: humanity weaves an endless tapestry of heart, hope, and home that continues to shape us all to this day. To tell a story is to bridge the gap between yesterday and tomorrow; to tell a story is to inextricably connect us all." THAT OPENING PARAGRAPH DUDE

- interesting premise. im intrigued. though i am a little concerned about the "classist violence" and "body modification" warnings. I suspect this is not all Fun and Games

- "I gotta say, "Hot"Guy, this is pretty disappointing. You can be AverageGuy. MediocreGuy." "Oh! "Guy"!" the best part is this is so in-character for them to do

- the ENTIRE EXPLANATION bit omg. joel trying to interject and comic-style getting talked over, lizzie robbing cats instead of cash... and her backstory...

- i. that sudden style shift is not in fact comical and i am now eyeing the unreality warning at the beginning of the zine with sudden alarm. should i be alarmed by this? maybe this is fine. lets say its fine

- JELLIE! hcing her supername is HotCat. she DEFINITELY needs a matching HotGuy costume. and i am somewhat more reassured!

- wait hold on. went back to that first hotguy comic to see the warnings (hidden in the title, missed them) and. WAIT WAS THAT REWRITING FUCKIN MIND CONTROL

- UNREALITY MINDCONTROL SCOPOPHOBIA AND INJURY??? WAIT HOLD ON IM REREADING THIS

- wait. WAIT THAT PANEL. THAT ONE WHERE JOEL SEES HOTGUY REWROTE THE ANIMAL CONTROL VAN TO BE A MONEY VAN. WAIT A FUCKING SECOND WE ARENT EVEN TEN PAGES INTO THE ZINE AND HOLY SHIT

- joels the only one who can SEE HES DOING THIS SO HOTGUY WRITES HIM OUT. JESUS FUCKIN CHRIST. HOTGUY??? UFHODQPHFWJPFAP AND THEN HE "GOES BACK TO THE DRAWING BOARD" AND FUCKIN REWRITES REALITY TO MAKE HIMSELF SEEM COOLER. BUT REWRITTEN HOTGUY HAS THE SAME PLASTIC EXPRESSION. JESUS FUCKING CHRIST THIS IS ONLY ONE COMIC I THINK YOURE LYING ABOUT HIS SUPERPOWER MUTATION WHATEVER

- ALRIGHT SWIFTLY ON. WE WILL EYE HOTGUY WITH CONCERN BUT MOVE ON NONETHELESS

- :0 cuteguy appears! doody did rlly good work on this one!

- CUTEGUY IS AWESOME!!! those WINGS... agh i love comic bubbles they just have so much personality and those icy words... and cuteguy pointing HOTGUYS OWN ARROW back at him..... you could not have made a better introduction holy shit

- and then he just flies off. awesome. we should all aspire to be the same level of cool as cuteguy.

- ren would be able to just say hotguy like that. also sidenote i am hearing all these lines in my head as im reading so writers youve all done fantastically!

- UNIONIZE! UNIONIZE! UNIONIZE!

- is pearl... a journalist? or is this the wrong gal? if she is a journalist then good for her!

- oh :( everyone hates unionizing the vigelantes. sad but realistic :(

- MUMBLR?? DID MUMBO K JUMBO BECOME THE OWNER OF TUMBLR IN THIS AU? DID HE KILL MATT PHOTOSPACE WHOEVER THE CEO OF TUMBLR IS? DID THEY FISTFIGHT TO THE DEATH? THAT HAPPENED RIGHT. THATS THE ONLY THING ILL ACCEPT AS CANON. IN THIS AU MUMBLR IS TRANS-FRIENDLY! 🎉

- sweetferaline (bahm bahm bahhh)

- ok this is incredibly funny. teeth dog ftw

- CHATTER AND M JESUS CHRIST THIS IS NOW THE BEST SEGMENT IN THE ENTIRE ZINE. AMAZING COMEBACK THIS IS SO REALISTIC

- and the reply sections are always a cesspool! glad they got that right

- PIXLRIFFS RUNNING A BLOG ON TUMBLR TO EXPLAIN HERMITOPIA. THIS IS SO IN CHARACTER

- THE MAPLE PRINCE. THE MAPLE PRINCE

- THIS ENTIRE MUMBLR DASH WAS PURE COMEDY GOLD. FIVE OUT OF FIVE STARS & HATS OFF TO THE WRITER

- ARIANA GRIANDE!!!! WOOOOO <3 <3 WE LOVE YOU GRIANDE!!!!!

- and now permit office grian! we are going through so many different iterations of grian... imagine we get poultry man next

- is that GEM??? IS GEM A VILLAIN? also i dont really know who the hippies are... idk its just hard for me to recognize this artstyle ig

- WAIT. HAS GEM BEEN SPYING ON GRIAN'S DETECTIVITY? or am i just reading this all wrong? i might be reading this all wrong

- alright i might have to reread that one-- WAIT MORE MIND CONTROL. AND BODY MODIFICATION??? THE MISSING CUB... guys if this is sculk!cub im gonna maul someone

- AAAA BEHIND YOU HOTGUY (i called it)

- also love how i instantly went "oh a tibbycaps comic!"

- ok i LOVE this panel where they figure out Arson. the way both conclusions are reached in tandem! and also YAY WOOO ARSON THIS BITCH UP 🔥

- OH MY GOD THIS IS HILARIOUS I LOVE HOW THE abrupt cut to disaster WAS DONE IN COMIC FORM

- THAT MERCH DESIGN IN THE NOTES APP ABSOLUTELY FUCKING SENT ME DUDE

- "i use sculk to season my pizza" ah. I see. typical cubfan behavior. carry on

- "None of us are perfect, despite what you say might feel when you look at me" this Bdubs email is SO IN-CHARACTER

- " i replied to some of these but then i kinda got bored and started sending links to cool space facts instead" honestly this is what i would do too. and i would be happy to get cool space facts in return for my hotguy email. i dont see what the issue is here

- oh is cuteguy taking issues with the supernovae. skill issue tbh

- this whole cuteguy-cub email chain is HILARIOUS. scratch that this whole email segment is hilarious jesus christ. grian is being SO BITCHY and im HERE FOR IT

- PEARLIPOP IS A REPORTER! YES! and zedaphs in this au! he isnt even going under wormman??? shocking (< says a zedaph fangirl who is completely fixated on one passing mention of him)

- oh my god this is the best storytelling format ever. the panicked exchanges between cuteguy n cub, pearl reporting as she is wont to do... genuinely i love this so much i am giggling so much im actually gonna stop liveblogging because i just want to read this. ill be with yall in a moment

- actually never mind "if he waits too long to answer it starts to play the whole Lilo and Stitch movie audio" cub i love you so much. hgcz i love you so much i almost forgive you for that very jarring first comic

- it looks like we have seven or so more years before hotguy becomes a reality... new reasons to live. also the chatter discourse is insane from what ive seen doc does just act Like That on twit/chatter

- "sumagram" well i guess we know who owns that now

- :000 HOTCAT APPEARS!!!!! WE LOVE YOU HOTCAT <3333333 EVERYONE GIVE IT UP FOR OUR BELOVED HOTCAT!!!

- THE AWKWARD EXIT. i love it

- I SEE THAT BIG SALMON DONT THINK I DONT

- SHIRTLESS SCAR.... im aroace but like. i can still admire a shirtless man cant i. artist did a good job

- NO YOU DID NOT PUT A LILACS AND POPPIES REFERENCE IN THIS COMIC I AM GNAWING THE ARTIST OF THIS COMIC WITH MY TEETH YOU ARE MAKING ME INSANE DEAR GOD THEY TEAMED UP BUT HOW IS THIS GOING TO END AAAAAA HOTGUY DONT DIE IN THE CACTUS RING PLEASE BUDDY

- CREEPER AW MAN

- horsegirl hotguy... wild stallion cuteguy... someone needs to write this au. i should write this au. actually hold on *scribbles furiously in my "crackfic ideas" notes* carry on

- update: now listening to scheming weasel for atmosphere.

- “Who’s the more foolish: the fool, or the fools who follow him?” stellar line. only a certified HotGuy can produce lines like these

- "after a tick or two" if hermitopians measure time in ticks like minecrafters do then thats such a cool worldbuilding detail

- FOR A MOMENT I THOUGHT THEY WERE GOING TO BURN DOC AND HIS LACKEYS ALIVE. THANK GODS THEY DIDNT

- testing of new weapons montage! i know hotguy is the star of the show here but god i love cub so much more. can cub be the "protagonist" here instead actually

- i. i have suspicions that cub is not sculk-free. or is this a flutterbat situation where it is all dealt with but its not but actually it is but it also kinda isnt? yknow. im gonna write this off as a flutterbat thing but i will still be keeping a very close eye on cub

- *snort* deep enough to hold twelve pieces of bamboo (i am such a sucker for in-jokes)

- grian is warming up to scar... also hotguy bandaids

- AND I GET THAT REFERENCE TOO!! very clever! grian shut up its two in the morning! "Scar doesn’t seem to know how to react, his mouth falling open and then promptly shutting again." same grian why would you bring up the nose hair incident and to an unsuspecting hotguy no less smh learn sone manners

- you know what if grian can learn first aid from the nose hair incident in alaska then scar can get injured in a volleyball incident (i have never watched scar which yes is a skill issue but also if this is also a reference i would not get it). beloved desertduo who cannot lie to save their fuckin lives

- THAT ENDING COMIC IS HILARIOUS. SUCH A SCAR THING TO DO

- alright im gonna take a break from liveblogging rn! i will be back in (my) morning with scheming weasel and a renewed spirit. goodnight yall! <3

[sailorsally]

watching Misha's Minneapolis panel for the first time and god I love him so much its unreal

[sadghostgirl37]

A Letter to a Brother

Hello, I am writing this to you, reader, my brother. You do not know me, we will never meet, but you are my brother, real and true, if not of blood then of spirit. How do you know that? On what grounds could you ever claim such brotherhood? I am sure you ask, yet more evidence of our brotherhood that I would know such thoughts that we argue your mind, of course, but I allow your doubt, I had my own upon finding the message left for me. But I assure you, it is no great feat of magic, though those are at work here, for me to know this truth of your soul. No, it is the house you see. The house I owned, which was owned before me by the brother I never knew but still told me of the things I now tell you, and the house that you now own. 

It is the house, you see, or perhaps the thing within it, if they could even be considered two separate things, though I would not dare consider that, that calls to us. To those like me, and my forbearers, and his, and forever more. It is the treasure that tells me, no, ensures me that we are brothers. Still, you doubt me, of course, philosophical, scientific, and discerning all at once, very much like myself, you see, but you will believe me when you first touch, not even when you first see, the treasure of this place, our place, contains. 

There is a mirror that is not a mirror you see, it is not a mirror because it holds no reflection for us, no equal opposite staring back from its beautiful shine. It may very well be nothing more then a mirror should any other come to see it, I do not know, I never brought any to it, you could, but I assure you brother, you will not. 

Ah, and yet again I draw ahead of myself. You must allow me some forgiveness, you see, it is near intoxicating to tell of my wonder, our wonder, after all this time. Now to the directions, my predecessor worked to conceal the wonder, the mirror, from me, a cheeky prank and test of spirit, I am sure, but one I have chosen to forgo. Instead, let me speak to you now as plainly as I am able while still overcome with this toxic awe. The basement stairs, it is behind the basement stairs, not in the small of the basement itself, but if you reach the bottom of the stairs and then circle around till their back is facing you there is a panel built into the wood that stretches up to meet the steps from the concrete of the floor. To the untrained or uninitiated, there is no panel, but I assure you, it is there. Should you search, and when you do, pressure applied on the top right and bottom left concurrently will pop it off, revealing the treasure. 

You, like me, will at first be somewhat affronted upon seeing it. “A mirror?” I exclaimed, “What means of foolishness is this? Truly, you are no brother of mine.” I had thought, if not exclaimed. But oh brother, how I have come to love this mirror. It's simple, sharp silver corners, and the inscription, words in some long-lost language, long lost on the top, stare down at you whenever you are in its presence like the Mona Lisa. My forebearer told me, as I now tell you, and as, I assume, we have been told since the first one, what those words, their script so strange, mean. And yet after all these years of running my fingers across their inscription, I feel some amount of understanding beyond the simple, unbreakable trust I hold in what my brother told me. I am told they say, using that strange blocky yet feathery shape they hold, “That which we dream is not yet unreal, and that which is real is no certain truth.”  

This is one of the two truths that have guided my life for all these years. The other, I did not learn from my predecessor, though I feel he would see the truth in it, like how I am certain you will see the truth in it as well. I won't bother laying out how and where I learned of this fact; I tell you, simply know that, like all treasures, it was not an easy journey to obtain, but that it does enrich me with its presence. The second treasure that I leave to you, along with our mirror, is a phrase simple and direct, though one that few, oh so few, have the strength of will to understand. “Some people are not born to be loved.”

In the past, whenever I’ve tried to explain this, people have either reacted with pity, attempting to convince me that, of course, I am loved, that I am simply being dramatic, or self-loathing. It drives me to madness. The way their eyes and mouths form around their lies, they like to think they aren't lying, of course, but we both can see it. Because simply put, if we were loved, would we not feel it, brother? Would our hunger not recede just a tad, would our pain not be soothed just an ounce? And yet it still burns. It always burns, sitting right there under the heart and above the stomach, a churning, burning hunger that tells us every day, if not every second, that we are not loved. But this truth soothes me. Some people simply are not born to be loved. What a wonderful truth, what a missing peace in the world that soothes the burns on my soul. 

You can see it, I'm sure, the truth, the relief, the freedom! Freedom from their suffocating pity and false assurances. No, there is no solution, no hope or release coming, there is this and only this, forever, until you die, and you can either live with that truth or die with it. This, like all good truths, nearly broke me, but I persevered, and it is good that I did, for mere months after this realization, the mirror came to me. I apologize, brother, I understand this has been rambling and seemingly lacking information; that was not my intention. It is just the very idea of putting my thoughts, my ideas, my truths,  to paper makes me giddy beyond words, till I can hardly tell one second from the other nor words thought from words written. But I promised you answers, and I shall now deliver. 

I shall speak to you simply now and explain why this mirror holds a place above all other treasures in this world to me. If you touch the surface of the mirror, you shall be transported to another world. The transportation is instantaneous, though I warn of a tugging sensation in the gut, like that of an elevator or airplane, and then you will be there. The place that mirrors takes you is so much like our world, but different enough that you will never quite forget. It is, perhaps expectedly, mirrored that which was on your right in our world will be to your left, and vice versa. Even living things you will find are mirrored, with their hearts resting on the left side of their bodies, and they commonly preferred hand being their left hand instead of their right. This, you must admit, is fascinating, of course; the implications could be debated for lifetimes, but neither of us cares for such matters. At least I know I never did, and I assumed you don't either. Instead, let me, with one sentence, bring you into obsession with this world the same way it gripped me so many years ago.

In this world, you are loved. Not tolerated, or appreciated, or enjoyed, or pitied, but truly loved. Their eyes will fall upon you and alight with pure actual love and brother, when I tell you the feeling is like nothing you have ever felt. It is indescribable, it's like dying, it's like being alive. You will feel it in your heart, and you will never want to leave. I must warn you, however, that there is a complication. Another us lives in that world. The native is. 

If you were someone else, someone less understanding, someone different from my brother, then I would fear you think me a monster. That your heart would grow tight and you would begin thinking of sins I must have committed against this other, innocent me. Of course, I know you would never think this, because I would never do this, and we know each other so well. Not to say I was never jealous, no, that I certainly was, and I spent some amount of time when I first learned of this world stewing in my own hatred and cursing my fate. But I never acted rashly or with malice. Because brother, he is us, or well, me, but I am sure you have one as well. Living in this house with a family, holding them, loving them. Being loved.

Instead, I have chosen to take advantage of the gift that has been given to me, chosen to bask in the love that, for the first time in my life, is available, even if it was not meant to be given to me. It started slowly, late at night, walking around the other house, barely letting my fingers drift across the icons of love that littered the counters and floors, trying to find an explanation as to why. Why was this version of me granted this while I was so deprived? 

I found no answer, no reason other than the random cruelties of fate, but it is no longer of any matter, because I now had access to, in a somewhat diluted form, all the love I had been cruelly deprived of for my entire life leading up to then. So I basked like a lizard in the sun, and I would spend hours just sitting in that house reading, putting together the story of their life, pretending, if only for a moment, that I fit into it. There were some close calls eventually, as despite all my caution, no one is perfect; they would ask each other questions as to where different objects or trinkets had gone, or why they had been moved. And I won't lie, even simple things like who ate the last crackers stabbed into my chest like an Inquisition's hot iron. But I persevered, staying in the shadows again and again, slinking away when the sun would again peak above the horizon. Still, I felt, slowly, that perhaps they were warming up to my hidden presence. Thus was the depths of my relaxation that one night while I was sitting upon their couch, reading a novel from the shelf and listening to the wonderful symphony of snores that permeated the house, so different from my, silent, stifling abode, that I missed one of the young inhabitants, making their way down the stairs until they noticed me with no small amount of shock. 

Brother, when I tell you I froze and felt the blood in my veins turn to ice in my chest, it does nothing to convey to you the true despair and horror that flooded my body at that moment. I expected the young one to scream, to cry out, that this was it. And that if it should be my fate to scurry back through the mirror to my own hellish existence that I had grown so painfully unused to these last months and never return, that I would be lucky. That more likely I would be dragged away, kept both from my true intolerable home but also from this my found refuge, thrown in some grey, reversed jail cell or government blacksite and dissected for the truth of my origins. 

But then, the young one, with something that looked almost like my eyes, simply nodded sleepily at me and procured some water before making their way back up the stairs. I was stunned, though I still made quick work of hurrying back into the Mirror, back to my world, and even refrained from returning for nearly a week. And that week felt like agony you could not believe let me say, it was as though I had been drinking saltwater my whole life, and then thanks to this wonderful Mirror I had been granted water from only the purest spring, a fact that made going back to the salt water all the more agonizing. But I choked it down, and soon I had returned to the comforting embrace of the otherworld, now infused with even more appreciation for its loving embrace than before. I relished in it, still trying all I could to maintain my cover, of course, but it was impossible not to lose some degree of fear following my near escape. And slowly, I began to realize that perhaps my fear was unwarranted in the first place. 

I had to test this, so I slowly began to build up, where before I would scrounge food from the edges, crackers, old leftovers, and almost forgotten fruit, I began to take bites and bits of newer leftovers, more desirable snacks. Where at first I would barely let my fingers ghost over the furniture, and only slowly worked my way up to sitting upon those holy cushions, I now let my muscles relax, would feel their cushions hold me like a hug from a mother, and how my whole soul sang in their embrace. And you know what happened, Brother? Nothing, no confrontation, no suspicion, nothing, there were weeks where I would only return to my dusty moldering abode to sleep through the day and, upon waking at nightfall, immediately dart back through the mirror to be in my true home. It was heaven. 

I even began to stay in the day, hiding, curled up in a corner, listening to their voices or watching them go about their lives through a hole in the stairs. But nothing, nothing had thrilled me as much as that brief accidental interaction I had. So I began a scheme, finding ways to recreate that fleeting encounter, the slight glancing interaction and featherlight contact of a shoulder brushing past a shoulder a thrill that I cannot put into words. The best method I eventually found was to wait in the bathroom,  so that when they would get up to use the bathroom at night, I could shuffle past with an apologetic nod, hidden in plain sight by tired eyes and unscrupulous thoughts. 

I am not a fool, I can understand how this may appear as sad or pathetic to many, perhaps even you, Brother, given how you have not yet tasted the potential life has, leaving you haughty and believing your self to be better then I. You are wrong, but I cannot fault you for being wrong, just like I cannot fault the child who has not been taught its ignorance. You will learn, and then you will see. 

There is another aspect that I have begun pondering while writing you this letter, brother, and that is mortality. You see, in my haste and burning obsession with the idea of writing this letter, I let it fall from my mind that we will never truly meet. In fact, more than that, I, the I writing this letter, will never know what caused you to read it. This isn't even the first of these letters I have written; the first, a quick instruction scrawled after I confirmed the Mirrors functionality, long since trashed, while the second I wrote following my close call on the couch when I assumed my time had come. In fact I write this now with the understanding that there is no guarantee that it remains, though, if I am allowed some speculation, I feel this very well may be the final draft, though I have no solid proof to undergird this belief, something within me seems to call out that there will be no more editions.

So I wonder, how have you come across this note, hidden as it was, that only one who had purchased the house would find it, had it been sitting there long? Waiting for the next owner, or have I barely been gone? The world that I existed in so lightly by the end, noting my absence nought at all? Do you know what happened to me? My fate so glaringly obvious to you and yet totally imperceptible to myself? Was it cruel? Another casting out, this time from what I thought was my refuge, driving me further into despair? Or was it strange, a silent disappearance, never seen again, closer to a vision walking into the mist than a death? I suppose it does not matter in the end. I am gone, brother, and you are there. 

So there you have it, I am empty, all my knowledge is out for you to see. And I am left feeling surprisingly morose, the manic energy that I had felt grip me when I first began writing this letter is long gone, leaving me simply wondering, what now? Am I to continue? Step back into that otherworld, as well-wishing and other as it is? How strange it is that they have never noticed me. I know that no one is that cautious, no one is that stealthy. Is it, I wonder, an effect of that world? To hide me, to continue the fantasy? I wonder. I wish you were here now, to give me thoughts in return, to give me advice, to tell me how obvious the anglers' lure that I sometimes fear I have fallen for is. 

But perhaps a kind lure and a quick angler's knife is a better fate than whatever awaits me in this world. Or maybe there is no deception and it is I who remains, trapped in this world through my own fear and cowardice, unable to see the warm lights for the welcome that they are. I can no longer tell. 

I think I shall be going now, my writing hand grows increasingly cramped, and my heart and head grow increasingly tired. But before I do, let me repeat. I am aware that you do not know me, that we will never meet. But you are my brother, real and true, if not of blood then of spirit. You may ask how I know this, and I will say it is through no great working of magic, though those do exist here. No, I know it because I wish for you a peace that I have not found, healing that I have not had, love that I perhaps have wasted too much time chasing. It does not matter.

The Mirror is waiting, brother, and only you can know what it holds. Good luck.

[nintendont2502]

Panel redraw art trade w/ the very swag @gillbuoy >B3

[witchsinvitation]

they !!

[marcfrenchie]

DO YOU WANT TO READ MOON KNIGHT?

are you a show fan who's learned about how terrible the MCU did moon knight and you want to check out the comics? did you see him in a teamup book and want to know more about him? are you just looking for more comic recs? are you just interested in the character? then you're in the right place!

okay, to begin, i want to say that this is a character that has had a... varying history. there are no moon knight comics you can enjoy without extensive criticism. critisizing the things that you enjoy is good and gives you a better understanding of the work. please do not idolize any of these comics and please work to be kind to the many minorities (jewish people and systems, primarily, but classism, racism, xenophobia, and homophobia are all explored throughout MK's publishing history) that these comics represent. anyway.

MOON KNIGHT 1980 -

tws - doylist racism (racist villainous charactictures, mostly. a lot of this), ableism (outdated terminology for systemhood, occasional slurs), and sexism. extensive discussion of anti-semitism, specifically neo-nazism, in issues 37 and 38.

what happens - moon knight 1980 is a 38 issue comic book centering on the ex-mercenary and now hero moon knight. almost entirely episodic but there are occasionally multi-issue stories.

moon knight, in the day, is the millionare socialite steven grant, and, at night, the hero moon knight- moon knight also "uses" jake lockley as an informant. marc spector was the mercenary moon knight ran away from. doug moench was NOT intending to write a system at this point- steven and marcs relationship is meant to represent one mans struggle with guilt- but its really really easy to gel this with their current situation of being alters in a system and also some of the specifics of their whole thing make me fucking insane. jake is also there and i love him even if he isnt really a major part of the moral conflict

please dont read all 38 issues- attatched is a list of my personal ratings. everything later calls back to this so its best practice to read it first but its very much a slog if you arent already attatched to this character so make your own choice

nothing from 1980 to 2014 is particularly good (you can read it if you want but i havent) but knowing what happened is pretty important to understanding the later modern runs so a runthrough. throughout the 90s mk continued in the 80s status quo but in 2006 he 1. cut off bushmans (remember that guy from 1980?) face 2. was given a tendency for violence and and 3. became significantly more tense with marlene and frenchie. by 2014 they had completely fallen out. thats all we can continue with the recs now

[Image ID: A list of Moon Knight 1980 issues colored based on their quality. Issues 4, 7-11, 15, 17-20, and 28 are marked as "not good." Issue 27 is marked as "not good makes me insane though." Issues 3, 5, 6, 13, 16, 21, 34, and 35 are marked as "fun." Issues 2, 12, 14, 22 to 26, and 29 to 33, are marked as "good writing." 37 and 38 are marked as "genuinely essential." 1 and 36 are not marked. 29 is denoted as "slightly weird about his DID" and issues 6, 21, and 22, are denoted as "racist." End ID.]

WHAT HAPPENS IN BETWEEN -

MOON KNIGHT 2014 -

tws - graphic violence. do not buy the book new, warren ellis is an awful person. brief (doylist) ableism.

what happens in it - the first six issues are the warren ellis/declan shalvey run, which is what im reccomending. read the rest if you want, its mediocre but i like it

moon knight 2014 is 6 episodic issues centering on a now alone marc spector. steven and jake only show up twice, both lineless appearances in the back of panels. most of the issues are significantly more violent, dark, callbacks to old 1980 issues. most of the run is silent violence from marc but all of the stories are really good and the art is breathtaking.

MOON KNIGHT 2016 -

tws - unreality. mental hospitals. both doylist and watsonian ableism.

what happens - i am reccomending the lemire/smallwood + co run, the 15 issues before the numbers shoot up. i have not read the bemis run.

moon knight 2016 is 15 issues situated in a hallucinatory version of NYC, following moon knight as he struggles against khonshu's attempts to possess him. the thing is a lot of things in 2016 piss me off so i cant exactly sing its praises but its super important to modern moon knight so just. slog through it. highly reccomend reading after 1980 because it refrences A Lot.

MOON KNIGHT 2021 -

tws - violence, discussion of anti-semitism in issue 5.

what happens - i am reccomending the first 16 issues. the annual sort of triggered a falling off for the series and so i have not read after #16. read the later issues at your own risk

moon knight 2021 follows moon knight as he opens the midnight mission, gains multiple new side characters, and reckons with the consequences of the age of khonshu (an event in jason aarons avengers which is explained fine in 2021 so you dont have to read it). most of the series is typical action juxtaposed with MK's SHEILD-ordered therapy sessions. issues 14 and 15 are possibly the first time jake and steven have been written well since 1980. unfortunately, the annual is deeply xenophobic (villianizing the only romanian hero in marvel) and i have stopped reading the series due to this. the first 16 issues are really good though

MOON KNIGHT BLACK WHITE AND BLOOD -

tws - violence.

what happens - mkbwb is 4 issues consisting of 12 noncanon moon knight stories, as is typical for bwb series. most of them are pretty good and fun and also really pretty.

OTHER MOON KNIGHT STUFF -

- ms. marvel and moon knight

- devils reign: moon knight - tw violence, prisons

- west coast avengers 1985, issues 25-41

- hulk 1978 issues 11-20 (not #16), b stories.

- moon knight 2006 issue 3 - for frenchies coming out scene, which is good. not anything else

- heroes for hire 2011 - hes only in a few issues but im not saying which ones because i want you to read the whole thing. because its good

- defenders 1972 issues 47-51 - its Very 70s but its cute and i like it :)

- werewolf by night 32 and 33 - his first appearance!

ENDING THOUGHTS - please god listen to and make a point to be kind to systems and jewish people when you talk about MK.

[mwolf0epsilon]

Whumptober Day 24: Fight, Flight or Freeze

Prompt: "I don't want to do this anymore."

Summary: To most of the 212th, Bray is but a distant memory. For Peel who'd fallen victim to the affliction that had turned its population into mindless vampiric monsters however, it's harder to forget. The lingering effects don't help.

[Yes I still very much like Peel despite him only ever appearing in one comic. I also love exploring the aftermath of getting temporarily turned into a monster and how that might have affected someone's physiology.]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

---

Beauty was, as most often said, in the eye of the beholder. But what if said beholder was confronted with something that was, in definition, ethereal to all who witnessed it? So delicately balanced and light that you couldn't help but be in awe, even if you did not see beauty in most things?

Electricity was gossamery in a way that was most beguiling to bare witness to. All energy, in its purest form, was most enchanting to behold if you could perceive it in all its vim and vigor. A flow of vitality that could not be seen outside of certain phenomenon, but that could easily be felt with something as simple as the spark of a broken wire.

The Force was energy. Wild energy that made up all that was and would be. One could almost akin it to life itself if they wished to get philosophical.

The Force was mouthwatering. It was a craving Peel could not shake. No matter how hard he tried.

Bray had changed him.

On the planet itself it had only been temporary. A short lived nightmare resolved with the slaying of a beast that had tried to enslave an entire planet.

But here and now in the safety of the Negotiator's walls, as the 212th ferried on to the next big battle up ahead of them? It was permanent. Painfully so.

He was not the same clone he'd been before Bray.

Not physically at least. Altered in ways that most would consider minute because it wasn't entirely visible. Unreal to his peers because they did not have to deal with it themselves. So very terribly real to him because he did.

At a passing glance it was only the deep scratches on his chest plate, his slightly larger canines, and the way his eyes now reflected light that gave away the oddity. But deep in his physiology something monstrous still resided. A deep-seated desire that haunted his wants and needs. An urge to consume energy that would not leave him be.

An urge that had him staring at the electrical panels of the massive venator-class ship. That had him cover his stomach with his hands in an attempt to muffle the hungry gurgles that sounded off whenever he stared too long at a blaster. That made him salivate whenever he saw his general and the often-lost saber he kept hooked to his belt.

Everything around him made him hungry. The machinery. The weapons. The Jetii... It was torturous. A craving he couldn't satisfy for fear of what may happen if he were caught.

He couldn't just eat a blaster bolt. He couldn't just lick the lit blade of a lightsaber. He couldn't sink his teeth into the sensitive wiring of the Negotiator. Otherwise the monster in his blood would win.

He did not want to become that... That horrid thing ever again!

But the forbidden siren song. The ethereal humming of all that carried ripe delicious energy within... It kept him awake at night.

Awake with hunger pangs that made him double over and want to cry. Sob and whimper until he ran out of tears and blew out his voice. He didn't know how much longer he might be able to take it before he succumbed to the shadow of the late Lord Ravna's beastly influence.

Sometimes he could almost feel phantom sensations of the infection process and the alterations it brought. Could feel the pain of the transformation that had drawn him away from his peers and into the cargo area. He'd been so terribly hungry back then as well. Unable to satiate himself on rations that were meant to fill his stomach and keep him going. Not even stims had helped.

He'd been restless and anxious. And then he'd smelled it. The static in the air.

It had been relatively quick, all things considered. He'd sunk his teeth into the wiring, and suddenly they weren't teeth anymore but needle-like fangs. Then his hands had changed into wicked claws, his head deformed into a mockery of a bat's, his body become too big for the armour that clung tight and impaired some of his range of movement.

The others had been lucky. He would have taken them down and forced them to join him in his terrible affliction had he been able to move more freely. Might have gone for his brothers if only their general hadn't smelled so delicious to him.

Peel had not been in control but he had to live with the memories of his transformed state.

The memories of wanting to rip Obi-wan Kenobi apart to consume the Force that he wielded so masterfully. All appreciation and admiration of the Jetii forgotten, because at the moment he'd been nothing more than one big living battery to be sapped at.

It was absolutely disgusting. A betrayal no doubt. To think back on those animalistic thoughts and drives, so unlike his own, and even now being unable to not drool whenever he focused on that particular energy signature.

The self-disgust made him flee his cot in the middle of the night. Made him seek out the quietest corner on the Negotiator, where the sounds of electricity and the Force were almost muffled, so that he could curl up and weep.

This was all so hard. He didn't know what to do with himself. None of the trainers had ever said it would be this hard.

"Peel...?"

Startled by the soft yet sudden voice, Peel nearly jumped out of his skin. As he stared up towards the source of said voice, he couldn't help but hiss in pain at the bright light shining in his eyes. He covered his face and turned away so as to shield his sensitive senses.

"Peel what are you doing all the way out here...?" Canivete had seemingly found him. It was funny, he could ask her what she was doing out here as well, but then she'd prod him over avoiding the question. "Peel... Peel are you crying?"

The medic was crouching besides him now, clearly concerned with the state he was in. All curled up in some desolate corner of the Negotiator in only his body glove, face red and spotty from crying.

Cani was always so very kind to all of the vode.

Soft spoken and gentle. Some might dare say motherly, but its not like they had any experience to draw comparison from. Made in tubes and tossed out mercilessly into a galaxy that did not care. One that could change you irrevocably in the blink of an eye.

Peel did not know where she got all that care and love from. Where she'd learned to not be rough around the edges.

"Peel, vod'ika... Please talk to me."

"I don't want to do this anymore... I'm so hungry..." He said it. There was nothing else he could do but say it. He was cornered and in such a bad way. So hungry for things that would no doubt label him a monster. "I'm so hungry ori'vod..."

The light of the flashlight was likely making him look so much worse than he probably did.

Eyes aglow with a red tint here in this dark little nook. The sharpness of his canines matching the ghoulish look of the tapetum lucidum. He hadn't bothered to brush his hair either.

"You're.... Hungry?" She seemed confused. He didn't blame her. She'd seen him eat at late meal time. The generous portions of his tray devoured so eagerly until his stomach had bulged with plump satisfaction.

General Kenobi always made sure the vode were fed right. Unaware that he was partly the reason Peel felt the need to stuff his face, in a useless attempt to extinguish the ravenous burn in his gut.

"Y-Yes... But...." He hiccuped miserably. "But not for food..."

"I see... Then what are you hungry for vod'ika?" The flashlight was too much. The batteries inside it... It was singing to him. He needed it. He needed it so badly!

Yanking the offending object out of the medic's hands, Peel finally gave in to his forbidden urges. He effortlessly sank his teeth into the flashlight, cracking plastoid and feeling relief wash over him as energy flowed anew into his veins through his mouth.

Some of the pain alleviated at last. The deep ache that settled in his muscles and bones gone for the first time in months.

Cast in now much denser darkness, the two sat quietly in tense hesitance. A minute of silence trickled by before Peel let go of the now drained and ruined piece of equipment. It was over. She knew now. She knew he wasn't fixed. He half expected her to just get up and leave.

Leave the monster in the dark.

Instead, Canivete wrapped her arms around his still shaking frame. Brought him closer to herself and just held him. Safe and protected away from the horrors of the galaxy. The cruelties that had lead him here in the first place.

A fresher torrent of tears cascaded down his still blotchy wet face. Peel gasped and sobbed as he wrapped his own arms around his older sister middle, afraid and unsure of what was to become of him still. But at least now there was some relief.

A semblance of hope that maybe everything might be ok. At least one vod still loved him. Even if he was a monstrous freak.

"It's ok... It's ok Peel... I've got you."

[andnowrotfront]

i love this panel of one punch man so much its unreal

[ttttaehyungie]

regular | extra #1

regular | extra #1

main fic

genre | romance, fluff, smut

pairing | film major!jungkook x convenience store worker!y/n

word count | 3.1k

rating | 18+

warnings | sooooftttt smut, morning sex, nipple play, dry humping, thigh riding, multiple orgasms, kisses kisses lots of kisses n cuddles, y/n talks briefly about having low self-esteem

summary | It’s been just a couple of weeks into your night shifts at the convenience store and you’ve caught yourself looking forward to the patronage of the two regulars who come by to purchase ramyeon and the sight of a certain bunny-toothed grin. Little do you know, you’ve caught the eye of the very pair of doe eyes you so adore.

a/n | OK SO,,,, this was NOT planned. did not plan this when i first wrote regular, did not plan this in my upcoming wips schedule, and definitely did not plan for it to get this long slkdjflkj but i justttt love these two lil beans so much and i lowkey hope i didn’t just ruin them by writing this and thought about them celebrating jk’s bday and here we are um 5h and 3k words later :’)

Few things in life are as lovely as being able to sleep in. And being able to sleep in on a weekday? That’s a whole other tier.

Now. Being able to sleep in on a weekday and in your lover’s arms? Transcendental.

The room is just barely lit in the first, feeble rays of the sunrise. The only time you see the sunrise is when you’re working the early shift, the sunbeams filtering their way through the glass panels of the convenience store to reach you.

Which means that the only time you get to enjoy the still quietness of dawn from the comfort of your bed is never.

Although it looks like that count isn’t going up since you’re technically in your boyfriend’s bed and not your own.

You attempt to maneuver your way from between Jungkook’s arms to a sitting position, banking on his heavy sleeper tendencies. But no such luck.

“Huh?” comes his groggy voice, thick with sleep. In his confusion, his arms around you tighten, pulling you closer into his chest. His lips caress your forehead, soft and warm but also sluggish in his sleepy dazedness. Cute. Your heart flutters at the realization that his first instinct upon waking is this show of affection.

Running your fingers through his soft curls, you’re the one to pour out your affection this time. You whisper, “Good morning.”

“Mmhm,” he whispers back, “it’s always a good morning when I’m with you.”

You retaliate against his cheesiness with a tap on his nose. But he only returns this with a peck to your nose. And another. And another. And a whole smattering of light kisses across your cheeks, up to your forehead, down along your jawline, and by the time he lands a smooch to his final destination on your lips, you’re in a heap of giggles that bubble up from the sheer contentment spilling over from your heart.

“Why are you up so early?” he asks, the heat of his breath wafting over your left collarbone.

“I think I’m too used to getting up early for my shift. I was gonna watch the sunrise, then attempt to go back to sleep.”

Pausing in his quiet peppering of kisses along your collarbone, Jungkook looks up at you, and although his eyes are wide and innocent as they peer at you, you recognize the undercurrent of lust burning in them, quiet and low but unmistakably present.

He ducks his head back down and mumbles against your skin, “Mm but we’re both awake now. Would it be a waste if we just go back to sleep?”

A shiver runs down your spine, and it’s only due in part to the tickle of his lips on you. He doesn’t ask for it directly, but you’ve been together long enough to know what he’s asking for.

“It is,” you agree. Your fingers scrape gently along his scalp before you run your thumb over the shell of his ears, watching as his eyes flutter shut in the heady sensation of it all.

Jungkook grabs one of your hands and brings it to his lips, skimming them over the delicate skin on the back of your hand. The feel of his plush lips on your wrist and the sensation of the point of his nose running up your palm has you sighing. He plants tender kisses to each of your fingers before taking just the tip of your index finger into the warm cavern of his mouth.

His tongue flicks. You gasp. The warm appendage glides along your finger and provides ample distraction from the movements of his other hand.

He runs his thumb along the slope of your hip bone, the full warmth of his hand on you as he’s slipped it under your shirt while your attention was elsewhere. It’s when your eyes snap open in the stimulation that you realize they had even drifted shut in the first place.

He pulls your finger out of his mouth, ending it with a kiss to your knuckles.

“Do you want this?” he asks, and you nod frantically. He flashes that bunny smile- the very same grin that stole your heart all that time ago- and you’re falling in love all over again. It’s that smile that tinges his breathy words with a brightness as he whispers, “Okay.”

He turns you onto your back. Both his hands slide up under your shirt this time and you arch your back at the feeling of his big, warm hands on you. He’s not gripping hard- Jungkook’s always treated you with such gentleness- but there’s just something in the way he holds you that makes you feel so secure.

They continue their ascent and pause when his palms rest on your ribs, his thumbs stroking the soft skin of the swell of your breasts. A breathy moan escapes you. The satisfaction in this simple action is already unreal. But it triples when his hands venture further up to tweak at a nipple, already pert even though untouched up to this point.

As your pleasure builds, the shy apprehension that seems to constantly cloak your being begins to melt away. You pull your sleep shirt- loose and baggy as is most comfortable for sleeping- all the way up to bunch up at your neck, and you sigh as you take in the sight of them being rolled, pinched, flicked under Jungkook’s skillful fingers. Just the physical stimulation alone had them raised to points, but the visual of your boyfriend paying so much tender attention to your chest as you’re both bathed in the golden glow of the dawn has you biting your lip.

Just as you think that your pleasure is at its maximum, he takes a bud into his mouth. He sucks on it gently and you jolt upwards from the pleasure. Taking the chance, he slips his hands beneath your back, wrapping you in warmth from both his hands and mouth.

“Mmn, Jungkook,” you sigh out between gasps of pleasure, “it’s your birthday. Shouldn’t you be the one receiving?”

He breaks away from you, and you can’t help but whine softly from the loss of contact. But it’s quickly replaced by his thumb tracing your areola. Taking a quick once-over of your blissed out state, he smiles and answers, “Love, watching you lose it is pleasure enough for me.”

“Are you sure? I coul-”

“Shh,” he kisses you as he cuts you off mid-sentence, “I’m the birthday boy and this is what I want.”

He moves to resume his actions, but you push him off you. Surprise crosses his features, but that’s quickly rectified as you clamber into his lap, straddling him.

“We could both… at the same time,” you explain disjointedly. But Jungkook gets it. With his hands on your hips, he pulls you down to rest your weight on him, his hard-on pressing into your core. The feeling of being pressed together elicits moans of pleasure from both of you. Grabbing your shirt from where it’s collected at your hips, he tugs upwards, divesting you of your top.

He takes a look at you, clad in nothing but your panties as you sit in his lap, hands resting on his shoulders with your breasts on full show, he gasps in awe at the sight. His reaction flatters you to no end and with the boost in confidence, you initiate. Arching your back, you slide your hands through his thick locks and pull his head forward.

Getting the hint, he takes your nipple in his mouth once again, pulling a moan from you once again. This time, you can feel him throb underneath you in response to your moan. In turn, you clench in response.

You begin to rock your hips forward. Dressed in just a simple white t-shirt and boxers, Jungkook’s sleep attire leaves the barriers between you thin. With just two layers of cloth between you, every roll of your hips has you feeling his length in all its stiffness rubbing deliciously against you. Evidently not satisfied with the pace you set, Jungkook’s hands return to your hips to aid you along, broken moans spilling out of both of you.

Releasing your nipple with a pop, he tugs you down for a kiss. You respond eagerly, one hand buried in his hair to pull him closer and the other scrabbling on his shoulder through his shirt.

“Love,” he gets in between pants, “you have to be quiet. Jin-hyung might hear us.”

Not trusting yourself to remain quiet, you drop your head to his shoulder and muffle your sounds in his shirt as your hips continue their rapid movements, frantically chasing your high. Jungkook, too, busies himself with placing open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, occasionally grunting into you.

Between the feel of his solid cock and the friction of your panties sending pressure on your clit, and the kisses being laved along your collarbone, your high is within reach. You grind down harder. Faster. It coils within you and builds, builds, builds. You’re almost there when-

Jungkook lifts you off of him. The pleasure, tightly wound in your core, ebbs away even as you clench your walls in a desperate but ultimately fruitless attempt to cling onto it.

“No! No, no, no, no. Why?” you whine as he shifts you, laying kisses on your cheeks as he apologizes repeatedly.

“I’m so sorry, love. But it was too good and I- I only want to cum when I’m inside you today.”

You sniff, but you nod your okay. You reach for the waistband of his boxers, but he swats your hand away lightly, earning him a puzzled look.

“Here,” he says, flexing his thigh beneath you so that it presses hard and warm into you. “I want to see you cum first.”

“But-”

“It’s my birthday,” he says, pouting petulantly, “and this is what I want.”

“Okay, okay. Birthday boy gets what he wants.” You chuckle and lean forward to kiss his pout, thumb stroking his cheek with tenderness.

You place his hands on your chest once again, and begin working yourself on his thigh. The muscle is firm, testament to the hours he spends at the gym, and the hard planes of it press into your clit, and you’re quickly addicted to the sensation that sparks from rolling your bundle of nerves over the solid muscle. Jungkook flicks at your nipples, creating delicious shocks that add to your mounting pleasure. Sooner than you’d expected, you’re back at where you were, teetering on the brink and feeling suspended from how tightly wound you are.

Your head thrown back, mouth agape in bliss, your arousal leaking out of you and seeping through your panties in a damp spot and onto your boyfriend’s bare thigh, Jungkook knows you’re close. Rubbing your nipples hard and fast, at an almost brutal pace, the stimulation is just enough to tip you over that edge and free-falling in the bliss of your orgasm.

You bury your face in his neck as you whine out your pleasure, “Jungkook, ungh, Jungkook…”

Your walls pulse and throb, and your hips continue to roll against the thigh that he presses up harder into you, bending at the knee to increase the intensity of your pleasure. Your strokes have become slow but hard, sinking your weight down into the solid flesh to elongate your high.

When you’ve descended, the last waves of your release mellowing out into little tingles, you open your eyes to find Jungkook’s on you, wide in wonder.

Grabbing you, he pulls you into a searing kiss. His lips on yours are urgent, his tongue seeking yours out, his arms clutching you tightly to his chest such that not an inch of distance exists between you.

“I want to be inside you so bad right now,” he pulls away from the kiss to admit, his eyes staring deeply into yours with blatant vulnerability. “I want you so bad.”

“You have me,” you promise. “You have me, birthday boy. Not just today, but every single day. You have me.”

You climb off him to lay down on your back, legs spread slightly and bent at the knee. Running your hand over your clothed core, you eye him where he sits and watches. Despite your recent orgasm, you can already feel the stirrings of arousal begin again.

“Jungkook, please.”

The two words are simple, but they break him out of his stupor. Crawling over to situate himself before you, his hands run warm and sensual from your ankle and up to your knee, and raising goosebumps down your inner thighs as he caresses them. Arriving at your panties, he hooks his fingers in the sides of them.

He looks at you, questioning, asking for permission, and you nod. You lift your bum to help him along and he slides your final article of clothing off of you. The morning air is cool against the slick of your arousal.

Before he can lose himself staring again, you sit up and tug at his shirt. Upon your initiation, he moves faster this time, yanking his shirt off and dumping it on the floor where his boxers quickly join the pile.

As he fiddles to get the condom on, you take your time to take in the sight of your boyfriend. Completely bare, you can see how he’s built with solid and firm muscle all over. A contrast to the way he treats you, always soft and delicate with you, treating you like a treasure to behold. In all honesty, so much of your growth in self-confidence must be accredited to him. It’s the wonderment and awe in his gaze and the matter-of-fact way that he tells you that you’re amazing that began to chip away at your insecurities. Hearing him say it like it was the plain fact, simple and true, so regularly was what had you beginning to believe in yourself.

And today on his birthday, you’re so thankful for his being. You’re so thankful that he came into your life. You’re so thankful for his love.

“I love you.” It comes spilling out of your mouth. But you don’t regret it, you don’t want to take it back. “I love you,” you repeat. “So much.”

His eyes crinkle into those endearing crescent moons you adore. “I love you too.”

He lines himself up to your entrance and carefully pushes into you. The stretch stings a little, but he goes slow and gentle, easing his way in till he’s buried fully in you.

He sighs. “You feel so good around me.”

You hum in agreement and nod, and his smile grows wider in response.

“Do I feel good?” he asks.

“Mmhm. So, so good.” With your body adjusted to him now, you clench around him, eliciting a hiss from him. “You can move, Jungkookie.”

With your go-ahead, he begins moving, gentle and shallow at first. But as the feeling overtakes him, your warmth wrapping around his cock and drawing pleasure from him, he gives in and begins going harder and faster.

“Mmn, ____,” he whispers in your ear, his breath in your ear sending tingles down your spine, “it feels so good to be joined to you.”

You only let out a happy sigh in response, but you understand completely. Everything feels so intimate. The dim lighting of the morning, the soft blankets abandoned but still surrounding your naked forms, the hushed, whispered confessions and gasped out moans, the knowledge that you are making love to the man that you love and the man that you love is making love to you.

You run your hands up and down his sides, reveling in the smoothness of his skin in your palms. With your pointer finger, you tweak his nipple, and the sound that he emits has you clenching around him, eliciting yet another one.

He snakes a hand between you and down to where you’re joined. In the same way that he was flicking at your chest just a few moments prior, he begins playing with your clit. It’s getting increasingly difficult to stay quiet, and you resort to muffling your moans with a pillow as the amount of pleasure you experience gets ramped up tenfold.

But he pulls the pillow away, his doe eyes now steeled with lust as it bores into yours.

“Don’t hide from me. I want to see you when you cum.”

With that, he increases the speed, both on your clit and in the snapping of his hips into you.

“Jungkook, ah, Jungkook. I’m close.”

“I can feel you tightening around me. You’re squeezing me so tight.”

“Mmn, so close.”

“You can let go. Cum around me.”

He circles your clit with an unrelenting intensity and you snap, hurtling off into bliss once again.

As you throb around his girth, he slows down his strokes to work you through it as you whimper his name again and again. He kisses your cheeks lightly, pulling you back to alertness with the sprinkling of his kisses.

Now having ensured that your pleasure has been achieved, he starts up again, rutting into you with no abandon now, unabashedly chasing his own orgasm. You tug at his hair lightly to pull his head back, and begin plant kisses all along his neck, aiming for the sensitive spots near his clavicle. With your other hand, you circle his nipple lightly, pleasuring him the way he did for you so expertly.

Within minutes, he crests the peak, seizing up slightly as he spills into the condom. You clench around him gently, milking him through his high. He collapses into you, his warm weight pinning you down but not uncomfortable. You stroke his hair lovingly as he pants and attempts to regain himself.

Recovered, he slides himself out of you, and takes care of the condom quickly, not wanting to be apart from you for too long.

He snuggles back into your arms that are outstretched and waiting for him as he returns to the bed, and sighs happily as he circles his arms around your waist.

“Happy birthday, my love,” you wish him, twisting a tendril of his hair around your finger.

He hums in contentment. “Being yours is the best birthday present ever.”

You both settle into the quiet of the morning, enjoying the stillness of it. Or at least you intended to until-

“Hey!” Jin’s voice sounds from the other side of the door. His knocks continue to pound on the door. “Time to get up, you lovebirds. Or are you going to spend all of ____’s specially requested off-day just lying in bed?”

Jungkook groans. “Fifteen minutes, hyung, please?”

“C’mon, Sophie’s waiting for us. We made plans for four of us to celebrate your birthday, remember?”

“She waited for you to make a move for an entire year since you joined the company. I’m pretty sure she can handle fifteen minutes,” Jungkook retorts.

“The only thing holding me back from marching in there right now to give you the ass-whooping of your life is that one, it’s your birthday, and two, I’m protecting my eyes from seeing you both nude. You’re not that quiet, y’know. Now please just put some damn clothes on and get washed up so we can go.”

[lemongogo]

omg listing nao shimura as a favorite, how does it feel to have god tier taste

YESS OH MY GOD i genuinely love the shimuras so much its unreal, i would obsess over a spin-off , should it just be about their family. i dont know what it is abt nana, nao, hana, and tenko that i rly enjoy  ,but im just so . weeps. maybe its what 235/236 and 270 have done to me but wow. wow!!!!!!

nao is so pretty and she loves her children so much man :_( . i think abt her applying his ointment,, comforting him,, asking if he still wanted to be a hero. for shigaraki to feel such love for his mom to revert back into a more vulnerable state again and tell her that he’s doing fine now. OUGHH IT MAKES MY HEART SO HEAVY !! i will never shut up about wishing for a chapter where they met again and it actually happening. like that shit was my dream and it HAPPENED and he saw her and she saw him again and yeah maybe it was only as a visage but the connection was still there and for tomura to say that hes not upset abt what happened between him and hana and to genuinely smile again , ,man :-( i do think we’ll see them again, if only one more time, but i love her so much. and hana ! and nana ! theres also smth so personal about nao’s hands being the ones on his neck. and like not in a malicious way either but like. idfk man that placement is just more meaningful to me than them being the ones on his arm or smth. ppl are quick to say that he doesn’t care abt his family bc of how 270 ended but thats not it @ all in my opinion. like combined with afo’s abuse/grooming and the fact that he only knew his family for a fourth of his life like.  of course the answer wasn’t going to be to “stay with them”. but to see his reactions and feelings in the dreamscape just moments before say so much abt the nature of their relationship. mannn.................lies face down & drowns

thhis is srsly one of the best / my Favorite panels in the whole entire manga 

OR THIS ONEEEE

:(