#ya'll a real one

[threepandas]

Bad End: Eve

You know how most Otome games are vaguely historical? Usually some non-specific mishmash of European countries? But fluffier and with more bows? It had once "gotten" to me, I think. I remember looking for outliers. Non-joke ones. Something that wasn't just "but this time with hats!"

I found one.

And now? Now I'm not sure if I curse that day or thank whatever force of nature lead me there. I guess... I guess it depends. Would I still have ended up HERE? If I had not found it? If so, then I genuinely and actually fucking rue it. Like... like actual "you'll rue the day! Bwahaha!" Type rue it. That's me. Ruing.

But? If it was always going to happen?

Then I guess...

I guess I'm weirdly glad. Because at least I have some fucking idea of what's going ON. Terrible, as it all is. Fucked, as the situation is. At least I'm not... not confused. Blind and at the mercy of those around me. Ignorance truely isn't bliss. All it does is leave you to try an fill in the blanks yourself. Usually with something far worse.

Not that the situation could GET much worse, by much.

I was in an Otome game. NOT a flower, high society, and dragons kind either. No. I? Was in a Dark Sci-Fi otome game. "Fate of man" was thrown around a lot. Power of luuuuv~ and such. Also, you know, HORRIFIC ethical violations. Human experimentation. Cataclysmic events and humanity "starting over".

All the high drama sci-fi concepts you could expect. It was a romp. Had good art. I'd had fun! Which is why I remember it so clearly.

Less fun when you're IN IT.

When you AREN'T one of the characters you KNOW will survive.

In fact, are one of the characters you know WON'T fucking survive. And will probably die MESSY. Horribly. Cause see, our BELOVED Harem collecting Protagonist? She? Was AN Eve. "AN".

Take a wild fucking guess what THAT project is about.

Did you say "breeding a better race of humans"? Ding ding ding! With humanity currently fucked, they want to FIX the problem by FIXING humanity. And of course, fuck ethics! Volunteers? Why use those?! Let's horrifically mad scientist our way to atrocity-ville! Make it all the more "God rightfully punishing us for our unforgivable sins" when we get wiped out!

Fffffffuck YOU, plot! I have to live here too!

You may, in fact, be picking up a slight note of stir crazy. A "wow, this lady rambles like a mother fucker" vibe. You would TOO, if you were stuck in a FUCKING TUBE. All I can do, day in and day out? Is wake, think, observe, then go right back to sleep. I can't even eat! I got a TUBE for that!

I... I miss showers.

Everything is GOO.

I'm an Eve. And if it weren't for the air tube controlng my breathing? I'd laughing hysterically until I died. And no, not in the "oh how funny" way. God. Oh... oh god. What a way to die. NONE of the Eves survive "the program".

Those IDIOTS are so OBSESSED with making bigger and bigger, better and better, FUCKING JUGGERNAUTS? That the Adams? Have long since reached the point of "mindless killing machine". UNSTABLE is putting it lightly. There is sexual dimorphism and then there's literal incompatibility.

But GOD FORBID the scientists admit that THEY are the ones with the inferior product.

It... it was even part of the game's plot. The scientist who made "Eve" HID her while HE made an Adam. I do not have that luxury. Somewhere, there is an unstable BESERKER being told I'm his "wife". That we're going to be HAPPY together. That he'll get to put his bruising, blood soaked hands anywhere he WANTS... just after he WINS me from the other Adam's.

Got to prove HE'S the best specimen, after all.

It makes my skin crawl. All I can hope, is that I can either provoke the bastard enough to kill me before they have a chance to stop him, or? I use my own enhanced strength to snap my neck. Maybe bite my tounge. Like HELL am I letting an Adam get near me.

The hiss of laboratory doors.

"Perfection at last..." Comes a relieved sigh. "All those HIDEOUS specimens. Why they make me suffer them, I'll never understand. We should have terminated them months ago. My poor project, they really think they're WORTHY of you..."

There's a derisive laugh. The scientist strolling into the lab I've been developing in, familiar. I watch him casually shrug off his lab coat and dump is bag. Hang his coat over the back of his chair. Turn, as he does each day, to STARE up at me. His eyes are a pale, pale purple the likes of which I've never seen before.

They're HAUNTING.

There is almost a red tint to them, though maybe that's the lights. The goo. I can never tell. He always looks ENTRANCED by me. Floating, visored, connected to far too many tubes an' wires. I'd think it was the fact that I was naked if it weren't for the way his gaze doesn't seem to drift lower then my shoulders. Seems more entranced by the way my hair moves, as though under water.

I've never once heard him talk about me lustfully.

But that doesn't mean he doesn't SCARE me.

"Let's begin, shall we? Time for your daily doses, mmm?" He says, voice dangerously affectionate. As though i had CHOSEN to do this to myself. As though he were merely reminding me of my morning medicine and not the hell ahout to come. "Going to be good for me? I know you shall, you always are."

He turned back to his desk, his computer. A few keystrokes... and I could feel the pod above me begin to hum, as it awoke. Oh god. Oh god it never got easier. From the corner of my eyes, bright chemicals slide down thind lines and into my veins. Like lines of lava. Bolts of electricity and pain. It was... AGONY.

My muscles seized. Brain screeched, first to the screaming I wish I could make... then static. With the long practice of daily pain, it took me far away. The click, click, click of keys. The sound of his voice, so terribly PLEASED, as I hung there and just TOOK it. No restraints, no strugging, no damaging myself. Just unbearable fire in my veins and a brain far, far away.

"Good girl~"

Distantly a phone rang. He made an annoyed sound, but picked up regardless.

"What. I'm in the middle of- ...Excuse me? I'm quite sure I did not hear you correctly. I said 'NO'. She's not-....I will NOT BE-...What. Are you out of your god damned MIND? That pile of scraps you call a project is coming NOWHERE near my-! ....you think you're clever, don't you?"

"Fine. You want to TALK? Let's TALK, Anderson. I'll be there in five."

From far away, past the pain, I watched him chance down at something at the screen. Back up to me. He hung up the phone but did not pause the program. Instead, calmly rising from his desk. Shrugging on his lab coat. Rounding the desk and striding towards my bio-tube.

"Hmmm, honestly, it should have been spaced out over a few more days... but you can take it. Endure a bit longer for me, would you, darling? Daddy's going to go deal with something for just a moment, he'll be right back, my perfect girl. Be good."

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to my tank. One hand splayed next to it like he badly wished he could touch. Could stroke skin. Hold his creation close. It was not the first time he had done this. Small, covetous, little actions like he wanted to crawl inside my skin and STAY there. Like he cursed the glass that separated us.

He pulled back. Shifted to the side and kneeled. He... had hidden something behind my bio-pod? When? Apparently before I had become aware. Because I had not known about it. A black shoe box. I watched him open i-GUN. Thaaaat was a gun! Fuck. Well at least? By the time anyone thinks to look in on me? The overdose will probably have killed me?

There is a cold, terrible smile on his face as he rolls to his face. Tucking the gun into an inner pocket. It has a silencer. He leans forward one last time. Lightly kissing the glass of my pod, as though heading off to work and not to very obviously kill somebody. The pain continues. Builds. I watch him leave.

With nothing to anchor myself on... time blurs.

I think? There are alarms? Red lights flash. Then they stop. There is shouting at one point. But then silence. An explosion? Or am I hallucinating? Pain. My nerves are on fire. I don't want to have SKIN. Please... please make it STOP! Calm foot steps? Come to kill me? Please come to kill me. Make it STOP.

The lights died a... time? Ago? Emergency lights on now. Generators in the room are loud. Why can I still hear the feet? Footses? Words. H..hurts. please.

Click.

The pain eases to a stop. Aching but nothing new. Over? Oh, thank god. I can sleep now, right? But... sound? New. At my feet. Gurgling. Wha-? The very top of my head feels cold. Then my forehead. Then my temple's and ears, cheeks, jaw... wait. Is? Is the tube...DRAINING? I open my eyes.

When did I close them?

He's back.

Standing right in front of the tube. Blood staining the hem of his coat, lingering marks of his massacre cleaned but not quite scrubbed from his body. There are little off red stains on his cheek, from what must be blood splatter. They look like tiny freckles.

I'm... I can't...

I reach as the tube down my throat is pulled almost carelessly away by the machine. Choke, suffocate, as the same is done for my air tube. But then it's done... and I can BREATHE under my own power. Gasp and splutter, as the goo sloshes around my knees. Then it's gone. And the tube I've been leaning my weight against is roughly pulled away.

I collapse forward, my muscles having never actually supported me in this life.

Arms catch me. Wrapping me in a possessive hug. A hand immediately burying itself in long uncut hair, even as the other wraps itself around my torso to lean me against his body in a cradle. My face is pressed to his neck by the hand in my hair, cradling my head and neck. I can feel breath against the goo wet crown of my head.

"Finally~" he breaths out, whispering it against me like a sigh. "My beautiful, perfect girl. My darling creation. It took so LONG. Those retrobates interfering at every turn, lusting after you like ANIMALS, trying to keep you from me. Then, worst of all, trying to toss you to some pack of savages? Oh, darling~ Daddy's been so worried for you."

"But we'll be okay now, won't we? I finally have you. All fresh and finally finished. My perfect Eve. You can pick any name you want, of course. You and I will be leaving this ugly little place. Daddy has PLANS. A fresh new world, just for you, sweetheart."

He laughed, his hug tightening in a way that would have left bruises had I been a normal human. Kisses were pressed to my temple. A cheek, rubbed against my hair. He seemed... seemed GIDDY with it. That nothing could stop him now. There was no glass in his way. I could not move yet. My muscles twitched when I tried, but that was it. I wasn't even sure I could talk yet, if I tried.

"Aaah~♡ Welcome to the World, Darling. My Perfection. My Eve. This time no snakes or Adams to tarnish you. To get in your way. Just you and your Father~"

"FOREVER~♡"

Next: ->

[izzy-prizzy]

me when i see a dumb opinion about a character i love or any character in general that is fucking stupid, on twitter/tiktok: "tumblr would never"

[shuploc]

I JUST SAW SOMEONE SAY ASTARION LOOKS LIKE VIKTOR FROM ARCANE

WHU- I'M BACK IN THE FUCKING BUILDING AGAIN!!????

[when-sanpape-arts]

Postmortem: Chapter 3

“A shilling for a fortune told!—” a young voice calls out from a little side street. “You sir— yes! You with the eyepatch. You look like you need some insight—” The young woman sits at a low table adorned with trinkets from the far lands. She’s shrouded in darkness, lit only by candles melted down to stubs. The Gor-goroth sigil she’d carved into her skin all those years ago is now a faint, silvery scar. There’s no mistaking it. Daan stops dead in his tracks, “Marina?”.

[benevolentcannibal]

Wano Romance 🌸

[humming-fly]

the new chapter of @post-it-notes7‘s In Your Dreams be like 

[geronimomo-spd]

the artists who draw their Doctors in sweatshirts and sweatpants chilling out, understand them on such a spiritual level its unreal. like that is a person who won't ever chill for their entire life, but they do!! and you also know what silly word/frase they will have on there!! its hard to explain, but you so get it

[azultecnicolor]

"Good luck to ye', whatever it is that you're fightin' about"

[fandomfluffandfuck]

*giggling, kicking my feet, twirling my hair* You're back to requests‼️‼️ anything evanstan 🥺 I feel like it's been so long 👉🏻👈🏻 maybe even fluff?

I am!

It's been too long--I'm excited about it, but at the same time, I'm like, oh no, what if I've lost the ability? Let's be real, though, every idea I write ends up running away from me, so I'll be fine 💀💀

Maybe it's the fact that I spent a few hours washing my car after my final exam was done, maybe it's completely unrelated, who's to say, but earlier I was actually thinking about something softer and sweeter with Chris and Sebastian, so here you are!

I don't doubt Sebastian's ability to be a grown man and function for himself at all. However, I do have the sneaking suspicion that his life experience hasn't led to him being a stereotypical "handyman" with tasks around the house. Having moved around quite a bit and now living in NYC, he doesn't strike me as someone who would just pull out the tools and fix that leak in the faucet or kill a few hours on a Sunday sanding down and repainting his kitchen cabinets. It's completely possible that his Mom or his step-father taught him how to do those things, but even so, Sebastian doesn't strike me as the type of person who would enjoy those tasks.

However, you know who does strike me as that kind of person?

Chris.

All the way, absolutely, Chris gives off those casual repair, handyman, DIY vibes.

The first time Sebastian agrees to spend a few interrupted months with Chris in his house up in Boston, it's in the leaning months, spring to summer. The weather is warming, nature shaking off the frost and unfurling new soft, green leaves, gently budding into new beginnings. New York City is always changing and always exciting. Boston, the few glimpses he's had of it--which haven't been much - just a few long weekends that were mostly consumed by Chris, too busy to pay too much attention, alone and taking advantage of it, wrapped around each other--is much slower. Boston has more stillness, especially Chris' corner of the city. Sebastian understands why Chris couldn't leave--even if he himself needs times of rushing traffic and restless feet and always-illuminated neon, he gets it.

Contrary to all that stillness and peace, Sebastian is finding that the air between spring and summer is electric. Filled with change and anticipation. And Chris is, as well, moving and vibrating, ready to embrace the sunshine and humid, breathy wind.

In the hustle, Sebastian finds that the more time extends, the longer he's been at home with Chris, the more they can spend time apart. In regular routine, the first few days, they're attached at the hip and mostly, confessionally, naked. But, once they have their appetites wetted--not satisfied, never satisfied--and their bodies know the other isn't going to disappear back into the cloud of new work and new sets and new scripts and ever changing timezones apart... they can unfuze. A little bit.

Chris will read while Sebastian will scroll on his phone; Chris will scroll while Seb catches up on that TV show he's been meaning to start; Sebastian will figure out what they're going to eat tonight, consulting Dodger, who, of course, cannot talk back, while Chris hops in the shower real quick; Chris will stay up an extra hour to answer that email that's been gnawing at his brain all day aa Sebastian retires to bed. It's so good to be around each other for so long that they can relax.

Somewhere in the relaxation, not needing to be constantly in each other's presence, Chris starts leaving Sebastian to his own devices in the house while he goes outside. And here, here is where Sebastian discovers what a moving, exciting, living, breathing handyman Chris is. His own city. Bustling and busy, welcoming summer in, ushering spring [politely] out. Good manners for a good Boston boy. He knows what to expect. He's been here his whole life, and his heart beats in time with the rhythm of this sliver of the world.

He works around the house, making sure the sprinklers are good to go into the drier part of the season, coming inside for a kiss on the sun-warmed cheek, grass stains on his dirty jeans. He does a brief check over the pool and all the systems that go with it, more pipes and filters and everything. Sebastian rides shotgun because he has nothing better to do anyway, when Chris realizes he needs to go into town to get a few more bottles of algae clarifying chemicals to dump in the water before it's good to swim. From his place in the passenger seat, Sebastian keeps a hand on Chris' thigh, focusing on the way he feels under his palm. His blue jeans are thick, not torn, but soft from so much wear and work. Beneath the denim, Chris' muscles are ever-present, strong and thick, too, just like the clothes he slid into this morning, but it's especially prominent in Sebastian's mind now. That strength. Built for looks on the silver screen initially, gym-honed, but all the better for everyday, relaxed, domestic life. Chris doesn't bat an eye before throwing himself into labor. Muscles bulge and work and support him--he looks good no matter what he's doing. Digging through dirt, fucking with the sprinklers, hefting up bottles of cleaner, twisting off screws, and scrubbing down his car when they get back from the store. His forearms and biceps flex effortlessly as he articulates the sudsy sponge squeezed between his thick fingers--it looks strikingly small in his big, squared hands.

Chris washes his car with Dodger trailing him, right at his heel as if herding him. Later, Dodger spooks hilariously when the hose moves on its own--a snake!--Chris around the corner, tugging it to reach the back of his ride. Then, barking accusatorily yet wagging his fanned, fluffy tail, ready to play, when Chris sprays him with a jet of water. He growls in good fun when Chris stops, deciding that the only way to get his attention back is to try and bite and eat the stream of water coming from the hose, jumping in front of it while Chris belly-laughs, accusing him of being a goof.

Later, Chris finds a window screen with a rip in it, some stray cat--curious raccoon, or unfortunately placed tree branch in a windstorm--so he takes it out and replaces it with a new one.

Meanwhile, Sebastian shamelessly watches him work as he replaces that screen and all the other work he's done as the seasons change through the large, picture windows.

Embarrassingly enough, Sebastian actually ends up cleaning the inside of Chris' Boston home windows for him, just to make sure he has the best view possible of his boyfriend. No pesky smears to get in the way of the teasing slice of pale, freckled, hairy, and well-toned stomach. His tummy exposed between the band of his work jeans, cinched around his trim waist by that beloved, well-worn red belt, and the bottom hem of some old t-shirt, reaching up. (When he bends down, it's the same story, save for it being the small of his back and those indecent Venus Dimples being exposed to the warm light of day, framing his pretty flexing spine).

Sebastian can't take his eyes off of him.

Somehow, though, peering out at him makes Sebastian feel like a peeping Tom. A peeping Tom in reverse, perhaps? Staring out rather than in? Yet, he doesn't feel guilty enough to stop. Not by a long shot.

So, he is treated to an eyeful daily with how Chris keeps himself busy, compling odds and ends around the house. Not every day. He doesn't leave Sebastian lonely in his home by working outside and taking care of his home everyday, not that Seb could be lonely when he has a spectacular view to occupy him, but he does what he needs to do. It's responsible. It's domestic.

Sebastian hasn't really ever led this life, lounging within a suburban home, comfortable and air conditioned, while a man outside in torn-up, stained work clothes that stick to his sweaty skin takes care of business, keeping everything in tip-top shape, but he's rapidly acclimating to it. It's a bizarre feeling. It's almost laughable. He might laugh, just a little, shaking his head and chuckling to himself, when he's hit with an overwhelming wave of love, oddly, right as he rounds a corner at the front of Chris' house just in time to perfectly catch Chris framed through the window, kneeling in the driveway, adding air to his summer tires.

Sebastian is so in love.

He's in love with Chris when he's anxious and out-of-his-mind with stress in the middle of a press tour for a movie he isn't actually allowed to talk about, he's in love with Chris when he's lazy and pouting about being made to roll out of bed before 10:00 am, and he's in love with Chris when he's pleasantly busy, whistling to himself, his footsteps in and out of the house echoed by Dodg. He's so in love with him all the time. And that doesn't change, not for a moment, when Chris tweaks the wrench too far as he's attempting to remedy that troublesome kitchen sink drip and ends up sending water spraying like a fire hydrant into the ceiling. In fact, the look on his face right after? Sebastian might be more in love. If possible. That boyish, uh-oh, caught red-handed, expression is unfairly endearing. It makes his heart squeeze so tight that his chest starts to ache in a funny way.

God, Sebastian loves all of him.

I hope you enjoyed! Nice job on being the first person to hit me up with a request this year 😘

[warper-in-training]

okay? I hate some cards too??? wlat's with the attack anyway??

BUT DON'T PUT IT IN THE FUCKING TAGS?? OR TAG IT AS SUCH?? People in the aren't looking for personal attacks hope that fucking helps <3

[vegalocity]

sometimes i wonder why 'modern greek mythology interpretations' tend to look at the Aphrodite's Affair situation and settle on 'it was so girlboss of Aphrodite to cheat on her husband with his literal brother' and make jokes about Hephaestus being 'cucked' or 'an incel' when memes about publicly humiliating cheaters are absolutely widespread on the internet, and in the myth itself Hephaestus basically just does the equivalent of the 'welcome home cheater' on the bedsheets meme, it's VERY weaksauce in comparison to what his mother usually does

then i remember Hephaestus is a disabled man and i realize exactly why.

[creationofthecourtesan]

received a great piece of advice from an elderly gentleman today. he told me that one of the best things i can get a man to buy or gift to me, isn't clothes or shoes or even handbags but jewelry.

[savage-rhi]

✨House Keeping✨

I have a backlog of writing requests going to April of 2023. I'm going to tidy up the inbox, and try to churn out 1-2 writing drabbles a week.**

You may continue to send in writing requests either on or off anon. Keep in mind I do these on my own time at my own leisure.

You may send me stuff that isn't drabble or writing related. You can pop in and say hi and I'll respond when I have the spoons and or hit points.

You may send me fanfic you are working on or stuff you'd like me to read. You may request feedback. Like with drabbles, I will do this on my own time at my own leisure unless we agree on another arrangement.

We can totally geek out over fandom or blorbo stuff together. I am never opposed to that, especially regarding theories.

I will be adding Stripe to my tumblr page to give folks another option to donate for drabbles and such aside from Ko-Fi and CashApp.

I am still working out how I can have a sustainable writing platform on Ko-Fi and also support my art (which I'm getting back into). I don't have a time frame at the moment.

Friendly reminder: if you don't like the content I post, the way I interact within fandoms, etc. you are free to block. There's no need to waste your energy sending hate when you can be having fun and enjoying your blog space.

You are more than welcome to tag me in things especially if you think it's something I'll like.

This time of the year is excruciating for me due to chronic pain and disability. Writing and general movement has been extremely difficult. I appreciate your patience.

I love you 💙 thanks for being here and sharing this experience with me.

**I have graduate studies and work. I may be unable to fulfill 1-2 drabbles a week due to my time constraints.

[sketchy-scribs-n-doods]

shout out to the other four worstthrust playlist creators on spotify, ya'll are singlehandedly holding back the static in my brain and we are holding hands <3

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Breaking down the comics: The Stranger.

Moon Knight, Issue #15: Ruling the World from His Basement. 

Look at how beautiful that cover is! 

This is an interesting one. A weird villain, political and racial issues, and some deep Moon Knight issues with trust, identity, and betrayal. 

So the comic opens with a Japanese Envoy being shot in the arm. There is narration here, but it isn’t the usual sort. It makes it clear that 1. These are Japanese "jerks" and we aren't supposed to really like them. 2. This is not the first assassination attempt. 3. The fleeing figure that shot him has a very familiar silhouette. A moon shaped sort. 

Cut to Central Park, we see Moon Knight chilling in a tree. 

"Man do I feel aweful. Too much stress, too many hours riding around in Lockley's stinking cab, not enough sleep or food... All combining to send the sledgehammers crashing on my skull." 

Moon Knight once again asserts that he is not Lockley, Steven, or Grant. And he's feeling stretched thin. They aren't taking care of the body. 

At this point, they don't have their jobs. There is no real gate keeper, care taker, protector... There is only fighting and Marc who holds all the trauma and self destructs at the drop of a hat. 

So here he is, called to meet in the park at night by Detective Flint and someone new. 

Sargent Gwenn is with Flint. He tells Moon Knight about the assassination attempt on the Japanese trade minister. 

They mention that "after Lennon, Reagan, and the Pope, you can understand why we weren't thrilled." 

Yeah, the 80s weren't great for people with power. 

Turns out, the meeting is a trap! They're there to arrest Moon Knight for the assassination attempt! 

"Did my homework. Learned you once worked freelance. Took on jobs for hire. An odd little group called The Committee was one of your clients. Anybody can turn bad. Especially someone who was semi-sour in the past." -Flint. 

This takes us back to Werewolf by night. Moon Knight was hired by The Committee to track down Jack Russell. 

Which shows that Moon Knight himself used to work for hire. Much like Marc Spector. 

One has to wonder about that. Perhaps it was when they first came back from the desert and the death experience. Marc only knowing one way of life and trying to do better than mercenary work but not knowing how. Moon Knight blending? Still unsure of his own individuality? 

Anyways, the cops surround Moon Knight and Flint walks away. 

Moon Knight feels betrayed by Flint. "You're making a mistake, Flint! And you're going to regret it!" 

He easily fights off the cops. They don't have the training he does. 

They open fire on him and he easily avoids the bullets. Perhaps instincts from their time on the battlefield. 

"I mean it Flint...You're wrong! Dead wrong! And I'll be hanged if I'm going to pay for your mistake!" 

Moon Knight is not in a good mood. Probably could have handled things better, but at this point he is feeling persecuted and attacked. The body already is feeling terrible and now it's in danger. 

He runs off only to see the cops put a woman in danger when they shoot down a tree that starts to fall towards her. 

He saves life and still manages to get away. 

The police remark on the fact that Moon Knight just saved an Indian woman. Flint asks Sargent Gwenn "Are you sure it was Moon Knight you saw at the airport? Absolutely certain?" 

He comments that it doesn't make sense, but he's been around a while and "anybody can turn bad." 

Moon Knight makes it to Jake's parked cab and quickly changes back to Jake. 

The headache continues, but Lockley heads out to try to figure out why he's being accused of something he didn't do. 

He heads to Gena's diner. He apparently gave her phone number as the one Flint can use to reach him. 

While he's talking to Gena and Crawley, you see a Japanese family in the background complaining about the service. They eventually leave after being ignored. 

An interesting thing to include. Especially with the Japanese dignitary in town. 

And while it is written and displayed to show them being a bit rowdy and demanding of service, it also clearly shows Gena only interacting with Jake and Crawley. 

While talking about the incident at the airport, Jake complains about his headache getting worse. 

Gena asks him when the last time he ate was, as it's after 9pm. 

"Nine! I forgot about Grant's charity shindig at the mansion!" 

He runs out without eating. 

Back at the mansion, we find an extremely upset Marlene. It's after ten. 

"Tell her ta hold her horses just a little longer till I can change ta stuffed shirt Steven Grant." He mutters at Samules as he parks his cab. 

When Marlene comes at him for his tardiness. 

"Please, Marlene. I've got an excruciating headache and I'm in no mood!" 

"Trouble, Steven?" 

"Only as Moon Knight. Grant, Lockley, and Spector are just fine, thank you." 

"I'm sorry, Steven. I shouldn't be so selfish. I know the pressures you're under. Trying to be four different people... But you're not really having trouble again, are you-Psychological trouble?" 

"No, Marlene, I'm not. You helped me out of THAT dark hole...And I'm still standing on firm ground." 

Ohhhhh he's a liar.

Liar liar, Steven! Denial is a strong one here. 

Marlene takes a cheap shot and it hits home here: 

"I know YOU'RE alright, Steven... It's just Marc Spector I worry about...And sometimes Jake Lockley... Even Moon Knight... I know it's stilly, but I sometimes think you won't be able to keep them all under control. That they'll do something to spoil what we've made of you." 

OOOHHHH snap. With as much infighting as they already do, that was a call to arms and Steven heard it. 

Moon Knight was already complaining about Lockley's cab, lack of sleep, and lack of food. Lockley was resentful of fancy pants Steven. And now she's gone and put the fear of Marc ruining things into the mix. 

I'mma say it: Marlene is a complicated character to like in early Moon Knight. 

You are supposed to like her. She's self sufficient. She can handle herself. She can fight. She puts up with all the Moon Knight stuff. She rescues them on more than one occasion. She's compassionate and often comforts them and seems to help stabilize and ground them. 

But she is also pretty toxic a lot of the time. 

She plays favorites, makes them question who they are and what the others are up to. She even often makes them question their own mental health. 

Steven joins his party and greets his guests. He puts on a show of the socialite but: 

"Privately, behind the social mask, he is still haunted by Marlene's words." 

The next day, we see a man at the toy shop purchasing doll clothes. He says they are for his friends. Many many little friends. 

I'll say it, he's a white man and it's clear he's in the upper class part of town. He smiles and greets all the fellow white people around him. 

As he walks, we have narration. 

"In this section of the city, you can't notice it. You'd almost think the problem didn't exist. Indeed, it's almost like it used to be... 

But as he nears his home, it becomes more and more apparent, the grim reality facing him and every other god fearing American." 

We see pictures of a smiling black man, a black woman, an asian man.

"Yes. Here the problem is all too obvious. The fragmentation and disintegration of American society. It's gotten so an honest working man can't even live where he belongs. He's forced now to live among the very filth which is causing the problem." 

He enters his home and goes to the basement where he has control of his environment and rules his own world. 

It goes on to mention that here, he isn't alone. His friends give him ideas much like the TV and bible do. 

He pulls out the doll outfits he bought, little army outfits. 

"Time to face the problem, my friends, and I have some gifts which should help us. We all know what the problem is, don't we? Foreigners. Foreign Devils. Slowly but surely extinguishing the light of America." 

He rants about the "invasion of America". About the dilution of American blood and the fragmentation of the economy. 

He talks about the underselling of American made goods with cheap and inferior products, forcing American businesses out of the market, lost jobs, crime waves, drugs...

He then talks about a hierarchy of ethnicity. How "blacks have been here so long they're almost American". He talks about how because of the Asians taking all the work, the Blacks have to turn to crime. 

He dresses the rats as soldiers. 

He then talks about Moon Knight. Moon Knight saving the life of the Indian woman, in particular.

"He's been stained, blemished. He's evil. I hate him. They're wrong, of course, but they tell me it's called Xenophobia. A fear of strangers... Of any one different..." 

He claims he will kill them all. 

Side note: This is still relevant. I remember growing up in the 90s there was a huge "Made in America" movement. It comes back every few years. Encouraged to purchase American made only to support our economy as if there aren't other problems with big business vs. local small business. 

I also remember the increased news and feelings that were pushed on us about the foreigners taking all the jobs. 

This is still happening. There are still too many people that feel and teach this. 1980s is still relevant today. 

Anyways: Back at Grant Mansion.... 

Moon Knight is suited up and ready to go. But Marlene and Frenchie tell him not to go. The police are still after him! 

But Moon Knight has learned that the Japanese minister is supposed to go do something big soon and the threat on his life is still there. 

"The three of us have worked hard to make Moon Knight worthy of respect. What do I do with my respect if I don't even try to stop that assassination?" 

Marlene and Frenchie have nothing to say. They hate it, but they let him go. 

But as he flies away on the chopper: 

"His primary goal, of course, is to prevent a death- But even as the chopper lifts him from the roof, he feels the nag of a secondary goal as well... To prove that last night's headache was just that- and not the residue of a memory blackout. God help him if he has to fight himself." 

OH FUUUUUUU---

Memory blackout headache? Fighting himself? 

Things are not fine at all in Moon Knight land. The fact that he is aware of time loss and headaches being a symptom is just… This is fucking amazing. DID was not classified properly at this time, much less well researched or discussed. And the fact that Moon Knight is aware of it means that this is a problem the system has encountered before. 

As much as the system is in denial and covert, it’s just one more little special little nod to the fact that Marc Spector has been dealing with this for a lot longer than since he was killed and brought back. 

Here, we arrive at City Hall where the Japanese minister is about to give a speech. 

The Mayor talks about the important of maintaining relations with Japan. About how we accept imports into New York and send exports to Japan. 

He talks about friction with 'some Japanese Imports..." 

Again, I'll say it. 1980s. There was a lot of asian racism taking place that lasted well into the 90s. Along with the 'red scare' and cold war, we were not on friendly terms with China. Vietnam had just ended. Korean war was glossed over and forgotten. 

Not to mention that most Americans can't tell anyone apart. Today, the tensions have subsided, but there is still a lot of Asian racism present in America. 

Moon Knight arrives at the scene. He...He does his thing... 

Frenchie: How will you approach zee scene?" 

MK: Only way I know how.

With Style. That's how. 

He lurks on the roof tops and waits. 

And he sees a man dressed as a giant rat with a gun running towards the stand. 

He dives down, but the police spot him. 

The rat calls himself "Xenos". (Little on the head there). 

The bodyguards manage to protect the Minister until Moon Knight tackles the rat. 

The rat makes a run for it and dives into an open sewer! 

But the police are closer and head in before Moon Knight can add a count to his sewer man tally. (I was so disappointed). 

The police lose him in the sewer. But now the police at least know he isn't Moon Knight. 

Later at Grant Mansion, he's watching the news and has a sudden realization. 

"Not disappeared... But blended in." 

The rat is pissed and decides Moon Knight is the problem and must first be eliminated before he can go after the foreigners again. 

But here we see Moon Knight heading to a house. 

"Getting this address wasn't easy. Steven Grant had to tug pretty hard on more than a few strings..." 

It's a cop's house! 

He slips inside easily. He starts to look for signs that this is the cop he's after. 

He browses the book shelves, noting that he seems like a bit of a "Right-Wing nut". 

Then he finds a scrapbook. 

Yeah... The "Holocaust propaganda". This...This is a big deal. This is dangerous. This is even more of a problem today than it was in 1980s and that's depressing. I won't go on about this, because that would be quite extensive and long.... But just know that including this in a Moon Knight comic was pretty important. 

(also history lesson! "The House of Rothschild". A 1934 American film. 

It's about a Jewish banker with five sons and how they went on to become a powerful bank. It's based off the real Rothschild. It discusses using financial backing in times of war to make money and eventually become the richest, most powerful people/bank in the world. (a very very basic summary) 

It was supposed to be an attack on Nazism and anti-semitism while Hitler was coming to power. It was made by non-Jewish people and cast with non-Jewish people. The Jewish Anti-Defamation League had major concerns about the film. 

It won a lot of awards and some Jewish leagues and papers endorsed it. 

However, a scene from the movie was used in German antisemitic propaganda and it seemed to encourage fears and resentment of Jewish people holding all the money and belief that this was the reason Germany lost WWI and fell into depression. 

So... That's interesting! ) 

Moench had a lot to say with his Moon Knight comics. 

He wrote for other comics, of course, but I feel like he only really said things like this and included things like this in his Moon Knight run. 

Anyways, Needless to say, Moon Knight is not thrilled. 

He finds a hidden room with a makeup table for his disguises. 

"A makeup mirror. It fits...But what scares me the most about this guy is the similarity between us. We both play roles adopting different guises to--" 

He doesn't get to finish his potentially destructive thought as he's immediately hit in the head by a jar of goo. 

He realizes that it's rat food he's been covered in, and the rats are hungry! 

Two things I want to say about this page. 

There he is face down on the floor again. 

He spends the next few panels rolling on the floor. 

There is no way that the rat guy can know that Moon Knight is Jewish. But what he says to him is heavily coded. Things Marc probably heard a lot growing up when bullied by antisemites. It’s a little too close for home. 

Moon Knight has a little freakout here. He rolls around, flinging rats everywhere and yelling "Get off me!" 

He's been under a lot of stress lately. 

Now he's trapped in the house of someone that idolizes Hitler and tells him that he deserves to die while under threat of being eaten by rats. 

This is not going to do wonders for his mental health and stress. Not to mention past trauma. 

He calls up Frenchie to give chase to the rat guy. 

He rips off the rat mask and finds someone he doesn't know. He is unsettled at first until he realizes that he's wearing makeup and a fake beard. 

(Considering Jake wears a fake mustache I'm not sure why he's so surprised)

And the rat Xenos man is Sargent Gwenn! 

They fall into a hardware store and Gwenn gets the upper hand! But then he steps on a rat trap and Moon Knight manages to punch him out. 

He drags Gwenn out to the police and finds Flint. 

"I'm sorry. Gwenn was a good man. But like I said. Anyone can turn bad. Even a cop. There are stresses. Frustrations." 

"Yeah. I know all about it. Now if you'll excuse me, Flint... I think I feel another headache coming on." 

He returns back to the mansion and you see him talking to Marlene and Frenchie, still in his Moon Knight outfit with the mask off. 

"--Not that I ever actually BELIEVED I was the assassin, but...Well, like a certain cop has said...Any Mind can go bad, and maybe, in a way, I did do it... We seem to be living in a nightmare these days. Maybe in a way, we all did it." 

Frenchie: A sobering thought, Marc.

Marlene: Yes, but at least you have the strength and sense to admit something like that, Steven. Maybe if we keep at it, keep trying, we'll all wake up someday soon..." 

Here the comic ends. 

So let’s look at this issue. 

Go back to the asian family sitting at the diner asking for service and eventually leaving because they are ignored. 

The Indian woman that was put in danger by the police. 

The use of Holocaust denial. 

The rich white neighborhood that fades to the poor crime ridden and predominantly black neighborhood. 

The hero of our story is the son of Jewish Immigrants that fled genocide. On the surface, he is a white man and fits into Xenos' little fairy tale. 

All while the story of tolerance, racism, antisemitism, classism, and genocide is taking place….Moon Knight is struggling with his mental identity and overall health. 

The topic of taking care of the body and communication between the four of them is not resolved, but we get to see him talking about his fear that he has a new unknown alter that is hurting people. 

It’s the current day trope of “There’s an evil alter” that has done so much harm to the DID community. But in this case, it’s Moon Knight that is afraid. He has reason to doubt himself and with his fear of Marc and what Marc can do and does to himself, perhaps he was even afraid that it was Marc causing harm. 

A lot of people are afraid of the mentally ill (DID, bipolar, Schizophrenics, and PTSD in particular) and their reason is that they are afraid the afflicted person is going to hurt them. 

Many times, when surrounded by this ideology and considering the time period where it wasn’t uncommon for someone to be deemed hysterical and locked up for failure to blend into society… A lot of people internalize and start to believe things about themselves. 

Told over and over again that something is wrong with him, that his sanity is fragile, and that he is being watched like a hawk for any slip up of not knowing who he is, Moon Knight starts to doubt himself. 

Xenophobia was the topic of this issue and that means “Fear of Strangers”. 

Moon Knight’s fear was fear that the stranger was himself. 

This issue wanted to show that anyone and everyone is capable of racism. Just because you are not white does not mean you cannot be racist. Just because you fall into a persecuted person category doesn’t mean that you can’t prosecute someone else. 

We can all do better. The first step is recognizing it and trying. 

[jaythelay]

Fact: Unless you force yourself, ya ain't reaching the half-way point of SR3.

Deadass half the game is turret sections and incredibly railroaded missions. There's just nothing replayable about that game in any regard for most players. Anyone saying otherwise is actually lying through failed or anecdotal co-op memories.

Unless you're into the story they treated as skippable more than viewable, the gameplay is as thin as it gets, and should be an example for everyone on what standards your games should actually have in place of attempted but utterly failed "coolness."

Seriously I know I went off about them not continuing the gangster stuff, but that's genuinely not even a minor concern to me. As I said, I'd prefer them to do their own thing, and guess what SR3 fans did not show up to support at allllllll? Exactly that game, what was that title again....guardian...drivers...? Idunno, It wasn't for SR2 fans so I didn't see anything on it. It failed!

Because their audience, dedicated fanbase, was not the continual stream of 15yos from the mid 2010s. But SR2 fans.

All they're into is the conceptual ideas of SR3/4, the wackyness, but genuinely not much else. Once the jiggling keys effect wears off, and your friend gets equally as bored, ya close, uninstall, and move on.

Seriously try it without the objective to prove me wrong. Some of you will enjoy it and that's valid and fine, but most of you genuinely will not last past the 8th turret section after yet another turret section after another turret section after a railroaded section, after a turrent section.

Watch how often you do not touch wasd or your left joystick, it's actually embarrassing "creative" work that we moved on from in the PS2 era. Sure, SR2 had moments like this, just not Back to Back to Back to Back to Back to Back.

Anyways, just saying SR2 fans were their actual customer base that entire time and instead? They went out of business because, oh, oh wow the proto-fortnite crowd has a low attention span and care for the series? Who'da guessed dwindling all support from your dedicated fanbase for the ficklest of fickle crowds would end up becoming your downfall?

They weren't struggling when it was SR1/2, but they've been on the ropes since SR4 and continually going back to the same, very dry well, eventually killed them. Had the reboot been made seriously, competantly, and creatively, they'd still be around today. Instead, cheaply it was made and pricey was it's tag.

They made it cheaper and cheaper feeling until the gameplay felt like an alpha title and made the characters frustratingly what old people think young people are like, wrote a story nobody would bother writing without a gun to their head, and then did nothing to address anything as the jiggling keys fanbase went back to fortnite and SR2 fans were completely pissed off.

Imagine rebooting your series to be entirely for the crowd that moves on near instantly. That pushed SR2 fans away and absolutely losing their dedicated fans is what ended up costing them existence in the public eye.

Genuinely, you can't debate that the SR3 formula straight out of a budget PS2 title, that they kept since the 2010s, and pissing off their actual audience with the reboot, was what put them out of business. It's undebatable they chose the most frivilous of audiences over their actual audience.

Good riddance to the dumbest business known to man. RIP Saint's Row as it truly was, thank fuck Saint's Row is dead in it's current form. Next time, do the obviously smart thing, and make a product people actually want to play for more than an hour.