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f4liveblogarchives · 3 years

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Fantastic Four Vol 1 #225

Thu Apr 29 2020 [10:09 PM] Wack'd: So the first two and two-thirds pages are something strange. Or I guess they're strange from an in universe perspective. [10:10 PM] Wack'd: It's basically a condensed version of the back half of the previous issue, rather than a recap. So reading these back to back it feels like everyone's reliving a slightly different, slightly faster version of the same events. [10:10 PM] Bocaj: Yeah that happens [10:11 PM] Bocaj: I complain about comics not establishing context with recap pages enough that I can’t really say boo about this kind of thing [10:11 PM] Aleph Null: it’s just a jump to the left [10:11 PM] Aleph Null: and then a step to the right [10:11 PM] Wack'd: I think I might actually prefer it to the writer clumsily trying to give all of this information again in dialogue? [10:12 PM] Wack'd: It's basically a previously-on. [10:12 PM] Wack'd: Though the fact that it's not really marked as such is weird [10:12 PM] Bocaj: Like Aleph’s Japanese animes [10:12 PM] maxwellelvis: Remember recap pages? [10:13 PM] Bocaj: I’ve heard of them [10:14 PM] Wack'd: I think also what's throwing me is that they try to hit some of the same dramatic beats again? Like, you're not really going to convince me "the blind king weeps in crimson" is vital story information

[10:15 PM] maxwellelvis: Because it sounds cool [10:15 PM] Bocaj: Well that’s nightmare fuel [10:16 PM] Wack'd: Anyway, I've spent a weirdly long time talking about a recap, but I this is probably the normal amount of time I spend on the first three pages so be glad you're still getting content I guess [10:17 PM] Bocaj: I do like content [10:19 PM] Wack'd: Interesting thing about reading these blind and relaying that to you is that it's hard to know in the moment what information will and won't be relevant. For instance, I didn't really make much of this scene last issue:

[10:20 PM] Wack'd: But I wish I had, because it makes this moment look friggin bonkers in context:

[10:20 PM] maxwellelvis: "Consistency? What's that?" [10:21 PM] Wack'd: We've hit a new level of Sue as a blank-slate stock-woman-character: the same writer is making her either a nag or a worrywart one issue apart basically on a whim. [10:22 PM] Wack'd: Also: "just wants a normal life" Sue is the most boring version of Sue [10:23 PM] Bocaj: Just a receptacle for women stereotypes? [10:23 PM] Wack'd: Moreorless, yeah [10:23 PM] Umbramatic: the Ur-Woman-Stereotype [10:23 PM] Bocaj: Boo [10:23 PM] Bocaj: Defined personality women are great [10:24 PM] Wack'd: Agreed [10:24 PM] Wack'd: Moving along, we get a very long-winded explanation of the exact science of how this place works which I'm sure makes complete sense [10:24 PM] Bocaj: Science in comics is always to the highest standards [10:24 PM] Bocaj: Always [10:26 PM] Wack'd: Reed is like "I'm not really fine with being threatened and woulda saved your life anyway" and Korgon's like "y'know what, I trust you, we're cool now" [10:26 PM] Bocaj: See: he shoulda just said please to begin with [10:26 PM] maxwellelvis: "Oh, I shoulda thought'a that" [10:27 PM] Wack'd: Ha! He really does just send Vikings to go shopping for him

[10:27 PM] Bocaj: God. In a modern comic we’d see some Vikings at the supermarket and it would be great [10:29 PM] Wack'd: Have I mentioned yet Doug Moench seems to *really like science*

[10:30 PM] Bocaj: SCIENCE! :D [10:30 PM] maxwellelvis: Nah, like, not superscience. Real science. [10:30 PM] Umbramatic: i am glad that reaction image is making the rounds [10:31 PM] Wack'd: So Reed does a lot of research and asks a lot of questions and thinks really hard (all in narrative captions, you're not missing much) and eventually he's finally ready to operate! [10:31 PM] Bocaj: Woo [10:32 PM] Wack'd: Buuuuuut the Four's powers go haywire again. Korgon has a machine that cures them of the radiation to stabilize them, but Wiglif--suspicious guy from earlier--thinks they just wanna be at full strength so they can kill Korgon and escape. [10:33 PM] Bocaj: Dammit Wiglif! That’s such a Wiglif thing to think! [10:33 PM] Wack'd: To shut him up, Korgon gives Hrolf--trusting guy from earlier--a "Darkfield Rod" that will nullify their powers if they try any funny business. [10:34 PM] Wack'd: And then Korgon immediately falls unconscious. [10:34 PM] Umbramatic: that doesn't sound omnious at all [10:34 PM] maxwellelvis: I give it five minutes before Wiglif tries to steal it. [10:34 PM] maxwellelvis: NO! Five PANELS [10:35 PM] Wack'd: To be generous I will not count these three where we cut to Asgard

[10:35 PM] Bocaj: Oh hi Thor [10:36 PM] Bocaj: I didn’t know you’d be in this book [10:36 PM] Wack'd: "Just considering a crossover, m'boy! I just got the faintest whiff some other book is stealing our shtick!" [10:36 PM] Bocaj: I’m going to be imagining Odin speaking like the king of Hyrule forever now [10:37 PM] Bocaj: I want you to know what you’ve done [10:37 PM] Wack'd: I apologize for nothing [10:37 PM] Bocaj: =__= [10:37 PM] maxwellelvis: Sorry not sorry [10:37 PM] Wack'd: Anyway they do the procedure and we're not sure if it works. And then another cutaway! Sorry max it's been more than five panels [10:38 PM] Umbramatic: vsfb jnjgfdmkb ;zgl,;.' n [10:38 PM] Bocaj: To the punishment dome with you [10:39 PM] maxwellelvis: *the dome.gif* [10:39 PM] Wack'd: Hey what the heck does that third panel mean? Did...did Alicia just get a vision of the North Pole? Or, like...uh...I actually don't have a second guess

[10:41 PM] Bocaj: When did Alicia brunette [10:41 PM] maxwellelvis: She overshaded her hair this morning [10:41 PM] Wack'd: It's been orange for a while now, too [10:42 PM] Bocaj: She’s supposed to be close enough to Sue that she can be a bad imposter [10:42 PM] Umbramatic: technicolor anime hair [10:42 PM] Bocaj: It’s the foundation of a good 60% of the things I mock Johnny for [10:42 PM] Wack'd: I think we're all okay quietly forgetting that except you for some reason [10:42 PM] Bocaj: See also 60% [10:42 PM] Wack'd: Mocking Johnny is admittedly a pretty good reason [10:43 PM] Wack'd: Ben also had a crush on Sue in the very early days if you want to take that ball and run with it [10:43 PM] Bocaj: It definitely has layers [10:43 PM] maxwellelvis: You've both made it weird. [10:43 PM] Wack'd: Anyway the procedure worked! Probably! Korgon decides he's just gonna assume it worked.

[10:44 PM] maxwellelvis: Was he always that tall? [10:44 PM] Umbramatic: always a safe bet [10:44 PM] Wack'd: (Y'ever notice Reed's the only one who ever grows even a little facial hair? Did Johnny just never go through puberty from the neck up?) [10:45 PM] Wack'd: @maxwellelvis : Yeah, we've just seen him laying down on a nebulously high platform so far. Ben remarks on seeing him for the first time he's like 15 feet [10:45 PM] maxwellelvis: I think he just shaves regularly to keep up his heartthrob gimmick. [10:46 PM] Bocaj: Here’s Johnny with a beard [10:46 PM] maxwellelvis: When he gets on in years, he's probably planning to let it grow out so that the Human Torch can have a *flaming beard* [10:46 PM] Bocaj: How much do you hate this? [10:46 PM] maxwellelvis: Like that. [10:46 PM] Wack'd: Sure, but if Reed has stubble from tirelessly working on this procedure...well, I guess Johnny mighta found time to shave [10:46 PM] maxwellelvis: He can just burn stubble off and they're in a literal house of mirrors. [10:46 PM] Wack'd: That's not a bad look on him. He's like the hot version of a grizzled old sailor [10:47 PM] Umbramatic: dilf [10:47 PM] maxwellelvis: I want to imagine someone said to him at some point, "Okay, but consider: A beard of FIRE!" [10:48 PM] Wack'd: I feel like "flaming beard" is a gay joke somehow but like. If Johnny has a partner who's overtly stereotypically homosexual that's the opposite of a beard? [10:48 PM] Wack'd: Unless he doesn't want people to know he's straight, I guess [10:48 PM] Bocaj: Beard of FIRE? [10:48 PM] maxwellelvis: I mean he probably has some sort of LGBT following. [10:49 PM] maxwellelvis: Chamber? What are you doing in Japan? [10:49 PM] Wack'd: One of my earliest exposures to this character outside of the Story films was an essay on why he's definitely gay, so [10:49 PM] Bocaj: Having a flaming beard [10:51 PM] Wack'd: I tried Google to find the essay but it turned out the one piece of corroborating evidence I remember it is one that literally the entire Internet has picked up on at some point [10:52 PM] Wack'd: Do yourself a favor, google "johnny storm fire island". Or don't, and let it be a pleasant surprise in like 90 issues. [10:52 PM] Bocaj: Can doooo [10:52 PM] Bocaj: The latter [10:54 PM] Wack'd: "I think I might be Satan, we should talk about that later" is not a good way to make me eager to talk to you later

[10:56 PM] Wack'd: While everybody else is celebrating, Korgon loads up enough radiation to keep this place running for another hundred years, and then asks Reed to make him mortal again [10:56 PM] Wack'd: Wiglif ovehears and is going to do something sneaky [10:57 PM] Wack'd: The next day Reed tries it, but someone tampered with the machine overnight. Gee I wonder [10:58 PM] Wack'd: Anyway Korgon is now more powerful than ever and fucking pissed [10:58 PM] Bocaj: Dammit Wiglif! [11:00 PM] Wack'd: 'If you press this red button, you get godlike powers and life-giving laser beams, BUT everything looks real spooky forever"

[11:00 PM] maxwellelvis: *Sweating superhero guy* [11:00 PM] Bocaj: I mean you take the bad you take the good you take what’s left and there you have [11:01 PM] Bocaj: Spooky shadow monsters [11:01 PM] Wack'd: The fantasts of life [11:01 PM] Umbramatic: fucking paralasys demons [11:02 PM] Wack'd: Haha WHOOPS

[11:02 PM] Umbramatic: gee willikers, that was a curveball [11:03 PM] Wack'd: Anyway from here things get predictable [11:04 PM] Bocaj: Fucking Wiglif [11:04 PM] Wack'd: There's a fight, it looks like the Four are doomed, Thor shows up, the tide is turned [11:05 PM] Wack'd: For some reason when I first glanced at this panel I thought that second speech bubble was coming from one of the Vikings

[11:05 PM] Bocaj: Yay Thor [11:05 PM] Wack'd: "Uh, boss. Hey. You get that's the literal god of thunder, right? And you want us to, what, shoot him with lasers? Maybe think about this?" [11:06 PM] Bocaj: Lasers are just light and Thor’s Baldrother shines lights out of his armpits [11:07 PM] Wack'd: Korgon is so pissed by his impending defeat he's just like "fuck this, I'm just gonna destroy everything, including this dome" [11:08 PM] Bocaj: Hey sometimes you gotta cut your losses [11:08 PM] Wack'd: Wiglif: 😟 [11:10 PM] Wack'd: The Four and Thor are at a loss so Thor summons Odin [11:11 PM] Wack'd:

[11:13 PM] Wack'd: This is kind of a solution for a different problem than Korgon has. Like. He doesn't want to be a God? It was kind of thrust on him? I guess it's true that God needs followers and followers need a God, but if he's content to be a follower I don't really see an issue with that [11:13 PM] maxwellelvis: He also has a responsibility to these people. [11:13 PM] Wack'd: And it's not like he abandoned his people, he left them 100 years of free energy, during which time they could've solved things on their own in any number of ways [11:13 PM] Bocaj: Yeah I don’t really understand what Odin is getting at [11:14 PM] Wack'd: Also, outside the religious philosophy stuff [11:15 PM] Wack'd: It's a bit naff to just have an all powerful being show up and solve the heroes problems. Especially if it's not with superpowers but rather with delivering the intended message of the story [11:15 PM] maxwellelvis: Have the Four solved any problems on their own this entire run? [11:15 PM] Wack'd: Like you could've had Reed talk about the responsibilities of leadership or Ben talk about being a freak or Sue talk about how sacrificing a normal life can be worth it for the people you care about [11:16 PM] Wack'd: None of those would've been fresh or original but they at least would've been, you know, the main characters solving the problem of their own book [11:16 PM] maxwellelvis: They needed Gabriel to deal with Scratch, they needed Captain Marvel to deal with the Skrulls, they needed Thor to deal with Korgon [11:16 PM] Umbramatic: geez [11:17 PM] maxwellelvis: They've been reduced to guest stars in their own book! [11:17 PM] Bocaj: Oof [11:17 PM] Bocaj: FIRST FAMILY [11:18 PM] Wack'd: Things have been kind of guest cast heavy yeah! Don't know what's up with that and I suspect if you asked Moench or Sienkiewicz they wouldn't remember, besides Gabriel being Moech's baby [11:18 PM] maxwellelvis: Are there any stories from before the hiatus by them that I missed? [11:19 PM] Wack'd: It's weird thinking about the fact that I'm currently reading a run of comics that were written by guys with social media presences who seem fairly approachable [11:19 PM] Wack'd: I don't know if it would work but I could probably just ask them things if I wasn't a dick about it [11:20 PM] Wack'd: Not sure there's a kind way to be like "why are there so many guest stars in this year's worth of comics you wrote 40 years ago" but [11:21 PM] maxwellelvis: Something like, "Hey, I'm reading through your brief Fantastic Four run you had with Bill Sienkiewicz and there seem to be quite a few stories in a row where the Four's issue is solved by someone from another book? Do you remember what was up with that?" [11:21 PM] Wack'd: (Btw Moench and Sienkiewicz were doing a *Moon Knight* run simultaniously with this which is why Sue was reading an issue to Franklin last time. Go figure) [11:21 PM] maxwellelvis: Heh [11:22 PM] Umbramatic: oh huh [11:22 PM] Wack'd: Yeah there's really no way to phrase this that doesn't sound like "why did you write this so bad" [11:22 PM] Wack'd: Ah well [11:23 PM] maxwellelvis: The best-case scenario other than getting some hot scoop on the Marvel offices at that time is probably Doug Moench suddenly realizing that himself. [11:23 PM] Bocaj: Were they long term writers or doing some fill ins and one offs? [11:23 PM] maxwellelvis: They did like ten issues. [11:23 PM] Bocaj: I’m in a period of that in avengers. There’s not a lot of guest stars but they’re a lot of inconsequential issues [11:25 PM] Bocaj: Shame because there are one off villains and characters that would have been interesting to be picked up for more stuff [11:30 PM] Wack'd: Yeah, ten issues and Moench wrote an annual. [11:31 PM] Wack'd: But also, their first issue announced that we were sticking with them for a while--I suspect it was intended to be a longer run [11:31 PM] Wack'd: And then Bryne sniped them somehow

#1980 #Doug Moench #Bill Sienkiewicz #The Main Book

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nothoughtsjust-vibes · 4 years

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I started Twilight for the thousandth time because I hate myself and this time I recorded most of my thoughts and, since I have no one irl, I have To shout them into the Void

1. Why is all the dialogue so cringey?

2. Why would she remember her favorite dessert at a rando diner when she hasn’t been there in several years?

3. The coloring is just so blue

4. Why does she look SO PALE?! Is it because K Stew was actually supes pale or because the director wanted her to look vampiric?

5. Why does Bella sound like she’s gonna cry when she implies that the guys at school are sexually harassing her? Could it be BECAUSE THEY WERE DOING THAT?!

6. “Things were getting a little strange”? Just because he wasn’t in school? Bitch, you met him once and he was an ass, any sane person would just forget it.

7. “You’re not in Phoenix anymore, Bells”. They don’t have animals in Phoenix?

8. Why is every guy so invested in Bella?

9. Their first convo in class is SO AWKWARD!!! Is that bad directing and writing or is it genius?

10. “Any cold wet thing, I don’t really...” fast forward two years she’s getting dicked down by vampire cock

11. Her telling Edward about her mom and Phil is so awkward. Like, he needs to ask her to explain things that she should know need explaining. “Why’d you move here?” “My mom remarried...” “So, you don’t like the guy?” “No, Phil’s fine....”

12. When there’s a vamp as attractive as Carlisle, why would she ever go for the son?

13. The big question is why would anyone go for Edward when Carlisle is RIGHT THERE!?

14. What I wouldn’t give for a book of Cullen origin stories: Jasper in the Civil War? Alice in the Salem Witch Trials? Rosalie getting epic revenge on her rapists? Carlisle’s everything!? YES PLEASE!!!!!

15. How Edward doesn’t realize breaking into someones room and watching someone when they’re sleeping is fucking creepy, I’ll never know

16. Rosalie shoulda knocked sense into Edward to not be a creeper

17. Bella is supes rude to Mike by just not paying attention when he’s taking to her

18. Jesus, Mike’s eyes are GORGEOUS. Don’t know how I didn’t see that before

19. I would want this guy as my science teacher

20. Has Edward ever talked to a girl outside his family? Like....ever?!

21. You don’t hit a bus door to get the driver to open it. Because of this movie, I did that one time and now I hate teenage me for that

22. WHY IS EVERYONE IN THESE MOVIES SO GODDAMN SKINNY!?!

23. Love that vampires don’t need to eat, but Emmett is eating in a cafeteria scene

24. “If you were smart, you’d stay away from me.” HOW BOUT YOU STAY AWAY FROM HERE DUDE!?! MAYBE STOP GOING INTO HER ROOM AND WATCHING HER SLEEP

25. KrimsonRogue said if you can use anything besides rape, don’t use rape. Maybe SMeyer should’ve heard similar advice and taken it

26. So Jacobs just not gonna introduce his friends?

27. “You caught that, huh?” They were a foot away from her and no one else was talking

28. I remember that in this beach scene, Bella was trying to seduce Jacob into talking. And she was like, 17 and he 15 which, even if not bad with age gap, still creepy. And she’s not good at it. And doesn’t need to do it.

29. Why she shrieking? It’s a goddamn rope he’s chasing her with

30. Why are the villain vamps so goddamn dramatic?

31. Why is Bella’s google searching so instantly effective?

32. Why does she go all the way to Portland to buy one book, flip to one page, take one word from one caption of one illustration, and then never touch the book again?

33. Bella is super not a good travel companion. Why didn’t she just drove her own self to Portland to go to the bookstore?

34. How she get so lost?

35. How did she not answer her cell while her friends were freaking out about where she was?

36. Why are her friends just leaving her with this very strange dude who never interacts with anyone?

37. That first line the waitress delivers to Edward feels like very bad acting.

38. It’s hilarious that corpse feet made her immediately think of Edward

39. How could she just barely graze Edwards fingers with hers and immediately have a shock reaction of “Your hands are so cold”

40. Okay, even with all this “evidence”, no normal person would be like, “Yup yup, he’s a vampire” and then have some dramatic confrontation in the forest during school

41. She just ditches her backpack in the forest. I assume she needs it

42. “Sometime you speak as if you’re from a different time” Bitch, when?

43. These are not normal conversations that happen in these movies

44. Bella is not normal. Dude she’s known for two days says he’s probs gonna kill her and she’s just like “Yeah, cool”

45. Why does he think his sparkle skin is a turn-off? I’d be like, “Hell, yeah, you never need to buy body glitter”

46. How she trust him after, like, two weeks and a couple conversations? I don’t trust people with my FEELINGS after two years, this bitch trusting an admitted murderer with her LIFE after two weeks

47. “I’m not afraid of you. Only afraid of losing you.” EXCUSE ME BITCH WHAT!?!? YOUVE KNOWN HIM TWO WEEKS

48. YOU CANT FALL IN LOVE THAT FAST!!!!!

49. Okay, but why’d Angela say “Oh my god” before Bella even got out of the car? All that she saw was the car drive up and Edward get out

50. Why were people staring? That’s not how high school works. People don’t REALLY give a shit who’s dating who unless they’re queer

51. I get the convo montage is to indicate they’re spending a lot of time together, but they’d have to remember the exact place they left off in the conversation or just have the same conversation over and over

52. Only living on tofu would not keep you strong

53. Okay, that cut of him jumping from the rock and cut to him jumping into the truck bed is very good

54. “Here comes the human”..... WHO SAID THIS LINE!?!? It sounded very happy, BUT THE ONLY TWO WOMEN IN THE ROOM WERE ESME AND ROSALIE AND ROSALIE WAS NOT HAPPY AT ALL AND ESME WASNT SPEAKING

55. If I were in Bella’s position, among other things I woulda done different, I woulda eaten the shit out of that Italian meal the Cullens prepares for me

56. The scene in Edwards bedroom is so goddamn awkward, but I feel like that works since she’s super awkward and he’s a 108 year old virgin who’s never spoken to a girl before her

57. Why she just turn his stereo on without permission?

58. I heard Claire de Lune is like, the most basic piece ever. Writers couldnta been more creative?

59. How is taking her on a tree climbing adventure making her dance?

60. “So, you and Cullen, huh? I don’t like it.” YOU KNOW WHAT MIKE!?! FUCK OFF!!! YOU HAVE NO GODDAMN SAY IN IT

61. What the hell was that twerking to the daughter of the chief while the chief was there?

62. So he’s been watching her sleep for the past couple months. She got there middle of the semester. So around March. A couple months would make it June. HOW LONG IS THIS SCHOOL YEAR!?!

63. Why Edward couldn’t have bounced with Bella before the villain group got there is beyond me.

64. THIS SCENE WHERE BELLA TALKS SHIT TO CHARLIE AND LEAVES THE HOUSE!!!! THIS IS THE PART I HATE THE MOST BECAUSE THERE ARE SO MANY GODDAMN WAYS SHE COULDVE LEFT HOME FOR A COUPLE DAYS!!!! “I’m gonna go stay at Jessica’s house for the weekend” “I’m gonna go to Angela’s house for the weekend” “I wanna take a weekend trip with Jessica” “I wanna go visit Mom for a couple days” LITERALLY ANYTHING EXCEPT THAT WOULDA WORKED THERE WAS NO GOOD REASON FOR HER TO HURT HIS FEELINGS LIKE THAT

65. If Rosalie could smell Bella across the field when there was no breeze, why can’t James smell her standing five feet from her?

66. Laurent really didn’t give them any helpful information. James is super dangerous? Yeah, Edward already got that. Victoria is dangerous? Yeah, that’s kinda common sense. Thanks for nothing, you French bastard

67. Man, why the tits did Bella not just tell Alice and Jasper about James supposedly having her mom hostage? Seems like she should trust the group of seven vamps to beat two

68. How did Alice see James going to the ballet studio but not James calling Bella?

69. “I don’t regret the fact that I’m gonna die because at least I got to meet Edward” is what she’s basically saying. As the great Ronald Weasley said, “She needs to sort out her priorities.”

70. The level of dependency Bella exhibits when Edward tells her she has to go to Jacksonville is truly terrifying.

#twilight renaissance #twilight #i hate myself

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 5 years

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Made Man

Part One: Cosa Nostra

A/N: Here we go folks! The official kick off of this one starts six months before the events of the intro, and immediately follows the end of the movie...with one major change, of course (as my quest to rescue all of Ben’s characters from their untimely film and screen deaths continues)

Warnings: language, depictions and descriptions of death and violence

Word Count: 3,718

6 months before:

The steel gray storm clouds fell into the bus’ rear view, with all of Beantown melting away behind him. Good fuckin’ riddance, Nick thought to himself, vowing never to return to Boston. As the bus left the city limits, his eyes fell upon a tourism billboard looming above Route 28. Faded, scrolling lettering on the badly peeling sign read “Boston: It’s All Here”. There were images of schooners and brigantines, cobbled streets, trees exploding in scarlet and gold foliage. The bottom of the billboard was lined with logos from the Red Sox, Patriots, Bruins and Celtics. The south side of the city was completely absent from the advertisement. No chain link fences, no yards with hungry pitbulls, or bars with blinking, buzzing neons. No indication whatsoever that Boston, Massachussetes was anything but a picture perfect postcard. It’s all here, he read the words one last time. No, nothin’s here. Ain’t nothin’ here for me anymore. Forehead pressed against the cool glass of the window pane and a toothpick clamped firmly between his teeth, he gripped the black bag in his lap and let out a long breath. Nick Tortano had a lot to think about, a lot to consider; a lot to plan, a lot to work on, and a fuck of a lot to forget.

He shifted in the hard seat of the old Greyhound, one long leg extended under the row in front of him, the other bent, knee swaying with the motion of the bus. Flashes of what he hoped to forget tore through his mind.

The way his father looked at him as he drew his last breath, eyes the size of chestnuts, hand reaching towards his son’s face but falling short- the way he screamed his throat bloody in the street as the life slipped from the man’s body.

That sudden drop in his gut just before the soft whizzing sound of two bullets cutting through the air, muffled by the silencer on the end of Jerry’s gun. Jerry who he thought he could trust, who he had to leave in a pool of blood on Ali’s bedroom floor.

The stillness of her chest, the two bright red blossoming blood stains spreading across her white shirt, lips slightly parted and limp fingers dangling from the mattress. The way she took all the air in the room with her as he knelt by her side feeling the warmth leave those fingers.

That corrosive regret that ate away at his heart and set his veins on fire- regret over not killing George in that warehouse, over letting him call the shots with Tony. Nick had gotten him, eventually, but the regret… the what if...what if he’d done him in then...could he have saved her? The fact that this was what he’d been made to feel, to think about...to do to his friend...his best fucking friend…

The lost look on Vito’s face, how he looked even younger than he was as Nick shoved a bag of cash into his arms and made him promise to leave town; to get out of Boston and not to look for him, not to try to contact him.

“But you’re my brother, Nicky,” he’d tried to argue, all obstinance and uncertainty and fear.

The way he’d had to harden his eyes and deepen his voice. “Yeah, well I can’t be your fuckin’ brother right now, Vito. Now do what the fuck I’m tellin’ ya and get the fuck outta town. And keep your fuckin’ phone on you.” How he’d walked away then, turning his back on the one person in the world that he had left. His father had stopped believing in him months ago. George had proven himself a toxic presence in Nick’s life. Ali had been innocent, and he’d miss what they could have become, what they were on their way to becoming; he’d forever feel the guilt of dragging her into his disaster. But walking away from Vito was the biggest loss he’d felt.

Nick’s nostrils flared as his top lip twitched. Sal. The one part of all of this that he didn’t mind remembering, was finishing it once and for all. Emptying his lead into that old bastard, standing over him and watching him become nothing but trash for the clean up crew that had been sent for Nick; watching as thick and slow, Sal’s blood mixed with motor oil and rainwater and dripped down into the sewer. The end you deserved, you piece of shit.

“Niccolo, I tried to tell ya. You cannot have it all,” Sal had said, hands in his pockets, right one gripping the .38 that Nick knew Sal always carried. Nick kept his gun trained on Sal’s chest as he continued. “You shoulda been happy, kid. Shoulda realized you had all you needed right here. This thing of ours, Nick, remember?” He pulled his left hand out of his pocket and waved it around vaguely. “You were the one hadta hold onto your family, to your friends...to that girl a yours.” He paused dramatically, clicking his tongue and feigning a sympathetic frown that made Nick’s eyes flash in the dark alleyway. “Shame, Nick. You threw away a great career with the mob for what? Whatcha got now Nicky? Nothin’. Nothin’ here for ya anymore, kid. You’re nothin’.”

As he finished delivering his monologue, he attempted to shoot through his right pocket, raising his still concealed revolver as he spoke. But Nick was quicker, and as soon as he saw Sal’s arm move, he squeezed the trigger and sneered as Sal stumbled backwards, open mouth gaping like a goddamn fish. He advanced on his former boss, firing two more shots before the man crumpled to the pavement and Nick’s boots were on either side of Sal’s body. He was already dead, but that didn’t stop Nick from pulling the trigger over and over until it clicked uselessly beneath his pointer finger.

The anger and adrenaline, the loss and suffering, the feeling of vengeance were all still pulsing venomously through every inch of his body a full eight hours later as he sat on the bus leaving Boston and his business there behind. He knew he had to get out of the city as quickly as he could, get somewhere far enough were the guys Sal worked for couldn’t find him- he wasn’t the top of the food chain, afterall. Sal had just been some Capo. He had a boss, and his boss had a boss, and Nick knew that they wouldn’t take kindly to some street soldier taking out an entire branch of their outfit, their Thing. Fuck your thing. I fuckin’ destroyed your thing. Cosa Nostra. What a crock of shit.

A crock of shit that he so willingly committed himself to, despite all of the people that he trusted the most telling him that he was making a mistake. His father, George, Jerry, Ali… but he hadn’t listened to any of them, and it had cost him all of them. For what? For a burning piece of paper clamped between his palms, scorching lies and false vows into his skin while he spoke words in Italian that he couldn’t begin to translate on his own. For a few days worth of walking around the city and feeling like a hot shot, like a real genuine made man; a real genuine lie. For money he could send to Vito, to pay for his college education- what money now, Nick? You got nothin’. Nothin’ for your brother, nothin’ for yourself ‘cept a bounty on your damn head. He might not have anything left, but he wasn’t ready to just sit and wait for some goon to come take him out either. He might not have anything to give Vito, but he was going to make sure that once this was finished for good, once the heat was off of him, that he’d find him and they’d at least have each other again. Build my own damn thing. My own damn family.

He’d concocted a plan, though he wasn’t sure how solid it was, having had only a few hours and a heart and mind crystalized with icy grief to work with, but it was all he had so it would have to do. He’d heard Sal and Jerry and a few others chattering about how the Boston family was struggling; about how its grip on the East Coast was slipping daily as outfits a few states south gained strength and cornered markets previously held by Boston. Illegal arms dealing, drug smuggling, hired killers… even black market technology deals with China, something previously handled exclusively by the Boston mob, was starting to fall to the New York/ New Jersey crews. The last time Sal sent some guys down to Jersey to negotiate and try to get back some ground they’d lost, only one of them came back, prompting Sal to throw a heavy quartz paperweight through the window of his office, curses flying from his mouth for Steve Bonafiglio, his counterpart down there. Even then, before shit had gone bad, Nick knew enough to pay attention to anyone or anything that made his boss’ blood pressure rise like that, so the name Steve Bonafiglio and his cover up cafe The Dockside were etched into his memory, saved for later use.

Later was now, and as the hours ticked by and the pavement passed beneath the rolling rubber tires, he repeated the name of the establishment over and over. The Dockside, Atlantic Highlands. The Dockside, Atlantic Highlands. Simon Lake Drive, next to the bait shop. The Dockside, Atlantic Highlands. The bus he was on would take him into New York- a city that it was in his DNA to despise- where he’d catch the Seastreak Ferry to cross over into the Garden State. Steve’s place was right at the end of the dock where the Ferry tied off, just past the bows and sails of the charter boats and sailboats and skiffs that populated the small harbor. Convenient location, just outside the city, a restaurant so no one would blink at large trucks making large drop offs of large containers, equipped with large ovens and large freezers, and perched right on the edge of the largest body of water and easiest disposal service there was: the Atlantic Ocean. Steve Bonafiglio sounded like a smart man. Much smarter than Sal, which is why he was alive and well and not rotting in some landfill off the coast of Massachusetts, and why Nick was hoping that he’d take him up on what he was about to offer.

Nick was about to turn rat, ready to break the rule that every errand boy and cashbox girl, every street soldier and capo and underboss, all the bag boys and gophers, the clean up guys, the scouts and drivers all knew and lived by: never talk. When you work for or with or in and around the mafia, it’s best that you don’t know nothin’ about nothin’. The less you know, the less you might let slip, and the less you’d be a dead man for if the wrong person caught wind of that slip. Well the wrong people were the people Nick was about to slip on. He was ready to offer Steve names and addresses of the remaining big players up in Boston. He was ready to do what no man had ever done, and certainly no Bostoner had ever dreamed possible. He was ready to help another family take down the Boston Mob, one pitiful old fuck at a time. He just hoped that Steve wouldn’t hold his willingness to turn against him, hoped he’d be willing to hear him out and realize that Nick was looking for two things: revenge, for all the things he felt that the family had taken from him, but also freedom- freedom from being under someone’s boot heel at all times, from having to check every corner for the barrel of a gun, from not being able to hold close the few that he cared about...from not being able to care about anyone for fear that that care would dig them a six foot hole or pour them a pair of concrete sneakers. Steve was either going to welcome him and his offer with open arms, asking him for a few months of service in taking down Boston before he’d be sent off under his protection to start living the life he’d had to put on hold, or he’d be capped right there on the tiled floor of the Dockside’s kitchen, industrial cleaning supplies used to wipe away all traces of him as fish feasted on bits of his body at the bottom of the cold, pewter water. His other option was to wait for the two remaining branches of the Boston mob to find him and kill him and let the same thing happen in a different town. At least with Steve he had a 50/50 shot...maybe even 60/40...of living long enough to see his brother again.

Leaning over the railing on the ferry, half-smoked cigarette dangling loosely from his lips and his black bag wedged firmly between his feet, he watched the choppy water slap against the side of the boat. The cold November air whipped across the surface and bit at the skin of his cheeks and nose, at the exposed area of his neck, the black lines of his rosary tattoo sharp against wind whipped pink flesh. But it had stopped raining, and it was nowhere near as cold as he was used to back home, the temperature barely registering at all through his black jacket and thick black sweater. The ferry docked at the end of a long wooden gangway that stuck out into the water, and he let commuters and tourists stream out and off of the boat before he slung the bag on one shoulder and disembarked. Here goes nothin’.

The sounds that greeted him as he made his way toward the blue and white building ahead were deceptively cheerful: fishermen shouting to one another while they maneuvered their large vessels into small slips, seagulls crying out as they soared above the harbor, looking for fallen french fries or other delicacies that they could snack on, laughter from the kids toting balloons from their adventures in the Central Park Zoo or the Statue of Liberty, snippets of conversations as business men and women hurried home and told their families that they’d be there in twenty minutes, and that they should start heating up the pasta from last night. Accents slightly different from his own hitting his ear to remind him that he was an outsider and that here in Jersey, people pronounced their “Rs”.

The wooden planks gave way to a large paved area full of picnic tables and benches, and he guessed that in the summer time they overflowed with people eating lunch from one of the few visible bars and cafes, or teenagers on dates with wandering hands that would be frowned upon at home, or artists sketching the sunset as the boats sailed in and out. But now, the gray sky full of white clouds, and a dullness to the color of everything that always fell upon the world in Autumn and Winter made the area seem sleepy. He walked up to the striped awning of The Dockside, passing stacked plastic chairs and tables that were bundled together and tied up against the building on the patio, and pulled open the side door of the establishment, crossing the threshold and sealing his fate one way or another.

. . . . . . . . .

It was just another Tuesday afternoon, dragging on slowly through the quiet hours between breakfast and happy hour, and you leaned against the bar staring out at the boats, daydreaming about summer and sunshine and all the tip money you’d make when the weather was warm and people came out of hibernation. The countertops had been wiped so many times you could see your face in them. You’d stocked the beer coolers and filled the ice bins, stirred the hot wells full of soup- the constant, Pasta Fagioli, and Tuesday’s soup of the day, Split Pea and Ham- and dusted off all of the racks of glassware. There was nothing else to do until the hit-or-miss rush did or didn’t happen in roughly an hour, so you gazed out at the gently rocking boats and dreamed of where you’d go if one of them were yours.

Ralph had been in earlier, dropping off a few envelopes for you to hold in the register for someone who would pick them up later. Ralph was always flirting, always hoping that someday you’d fall for one of his lines, and you were as sure as he was hopeful that it would never happen. He was nice enough, had taught you a lot when you’d first come under the wing of Steve’s little cover up operation. He’d taught you things like how to spot an undercover cop, and how to know if someone was carrying a weapon, what certain tattoos meant and keywords that you should be aware of. You were thankful for all of those lessons, knowing that while your job description of bartender wasn’t in and of itself dangerous, your secret duties as cashbox girl weren’t completely on the up and up and therefore came with considerable danger. Ralph was thick and always sweaty. His jet black hair always had the appearance of being soaked through- whether from a lack of shower or an excess of product you weren’t sure, but it either way it was a repellant that you just knew that you’d never get passed- that and several other of his features: his “my shit don’t stink” attitude, the way he trashed anyone even half a step below him on the boss’ ladder, the way he looked at you like he was hoping he’d gained x-ray vision since last he’d seen you. Ralph was fine enough to deal with for work. But that’s where your dealings with him began and ended. You were glad that he wasn’t sticking around, glad to be by yourself with the boats and your daydreams.

Until the door swung open something straight out of one of those dreams walked through the door and strode right up to the bar counter that you were leaning on. Oh, shit. Long legs encased in dark denim, black coat over what you could tell were decently muscled arms, glossy hair that shined all on its own and not because it was dripping with grease or gel. Eyes so dark they rivaled the night sky, but with a softness reflected there that told you that he was more than his attractive exterior. Well, I wanted something to occupy my time. Got something.

He set his bag down and climbed up onto one of the circular seats, keeping his eyes on you as you greeted him, setting a small square napkin down in front of him. “Hey, welcome to The Dockside,” you gestured with one hand at your surroundings before telling him your name and letting your hand fall to your chest as if to indicate that your name belonged to you and not to anyone else in the room...even though there was no one else in the room. “What can I get ya to drink?”

“Hey, thanks, I’m not really thirsty, just came here to see Steve. He around?” His accent was undeniably from Boston, though you could tell that he was making an effort to speak slower, trying not to drop his “Rs”.

You grabbed a glass and filled it with ice despite his non-order. “Yeah, Steve’s around. But he only makes time for customers. So what can I get ya?” You tilted your head to the side and caught the makings of a smile lifting one side of his mouth, beard twitching slightly.

“Uh...whiskey sour I guess...please, I mean,” he answered, squeezing and flexing one hand in a fist.

“Sure thing,” you quickly filled the glass with well whiskey and topped it with the lime green colored sour mix you’d whipped up that morning- nothing but sugar and heartburn, and you wondered how much of that description your patron shared with his drink of choice. He looks dangerous. Like he knows things and like he’s easy to know. Gotta be careful with this one. You dropped an orange wheel and a bright red maraschino cherry into his short glass before setting it on the napkin in front of him. “Eight bucks,” you announced.

“Eight? Yikes.” his eyebrows flew up and made his face look younger than you originally would have pegged him for. You nodded, arms crossed. “Hope its the best whisky sour I ever had, then” he smirked as he forked over a ten and a five and told you to keep the change.

“Well, if it’s not, order a call liquor next time. Only so much covering up that sour mix and garnishes can do to shitty alcohol.” You shrugged and offered a smile as he took a swig of his drink, letting an ice cube drop between his teeth, crunching it before setting his glass back down on the napkin.

“Nah, best I ever had, right here,” he lied sarcastically. Gotta be very careful with this one.

“So you’re lookin’ for Steve, huh?” you asked, pouring yourself a glass of water. He nodded, running his fingers up and down the outside of his glass, wiping at the condensation that was pooling on the napkin. “Never seen you around before. You either caused trouble, or you’re lookin’ for it.” You squinted at him. “Not sure which one yet. But sit tight, I’ll let him know you’re here.” You started heading towards the glorified broom closet that Steve called an office, then spun back. “Who should I say is lookin’ for him, by the way?”

“Nick. Nick Tortano. Tell him...tell him I used to be one a Sal’s guys up North...he’ll know what that means.”

You nodded, heart rate picking up. One of Sal’s guys up North. That could only mean one thing- the Boston Mob was here in Jersey. There goes that boring Tuesday.

. . . . . . . . .

@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity @benbarnestongue @agent-bossypants @lexxierave @songtoyou @poindexted @thesumofmychoices

please let me know if you wanna get made (and stay on the tag list) or swim with the fishes (and hop off of the taglist)

#made man #nick tortano #nicky tortano #by the gun #ben barnes character fic #nick tortano x reader #nick tortano x you #nicky tortano x reader #nicky tortano x you #boston mob meets dirty jerz

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african-fanboy-blog · 4 years

Text

I've never written a blog before so I'll just describe my day in a summary 😅

My Name is Yankho or Martin or Newa or Mr Newa😎(sorry)

I woke up at 04:30am

I jogged from our hostels in area 3 to area 4 and back (btw area 3 is a district in Lilongwe city located in Malawi)

I fell asleep for 1 or 2 hours, when i woke up i started watching an anime called Kaguya sama-love is war🔥🔥🔥 loved it🥴🍿

Around 10 i got the water ready and took a shower, then ate lunch after getting ready for classes.

Then i went to school where i got some papers (we just wrote exams recently) , class was boring as ever, but i tried smiling and most people smiled back😄, i went out for a bit at break because i wanted a chicken salad 😋🥗🍗. When i got back to class i found the Dean lecturing the guys in my department about a test he gave us, he gave me direct eye contact four times👀. I went outside and encountered a pretty girl I'm friends with, i don't like her but anxiety's a bitch, and i could sense my nerves.

I went back in class and the Dean was talking about our GPA's he asked one of the girls in our class about her GPA, because she was sleeping, little did he know, this girl got the highest overall GPA last sem, nd i think she couldn't tell what he was talking about and it seemed like she didn't care. When people heard about how our GPA's work they were so surprised, but its in our student handbook🙄🙄, and they acted like it's hard to get a high GPA. Man sometimes i feel like college is childish 🤦🏿‍♂️, the exams are so easy, if you study your notes 2 times you're almost guaranteed an A, i can prove it infact, in our first exams which we're already getting my highest will be 38/50 and my lowest will be 31/50, those are my estimates, in our next exam i can get a total 47/50 in at least 5 papers, I'd say 50/50 but lecturers are bitches who feed off of pain😩. If you wanna see me do it then follow my blog😉.

Anyways after class i decided to walk to our hostels (I'm a boarding student at our college), because i wanted another chicken salad🤤, so i started strapping with a friend of mine and we walked, you shoulda seen the disappointment on a boy when he saw me waste MK1000 on what is essentially pieces of chicken mixed with some veggies😂😂😂, it broke him, but i think he understood, the glory and radiance of the mighty chicken salad when i let him try some🔥🔥🔥, boy started describing its taste like a judge from food wars😂😂😂. So as we walked to the hostels, i saw some white guy was bribing a police man, because he drove his car into a one way lane from the opposite direction, i saw this Anglo-Saxon son and his friends pull 3 wallets out they pockets💸💸💸, made me wish i was a cop, i didn't count the money but my eyes estimated way over MK50 grand. If this boy was smart he woulda given the cops MK2000, that woulda worked just fine but i don't think foreigners (especially the white ones) understand that Malawi is poor, hence what they consider a little money, can feed someones whole family for a month 😂😂😂.

Anyways we walked to the hostels and i settled down on this chair that i stol.... (cough cough👀) borrowed. Just when i was about to sit down and enjoy some anime, this one nigga comes up at me and says, "bruh, share me some anime🧐." Now i know this bitch ass, he's not the type to enjoy true culture, so i had to ask.... "Why the fu....", But he stopped me in the middle of my F word alliteration 🧐, and said, a chick told him she enjoys anime but this guy had no culture, so he asked me for some this culture, so that he could show this girl he is a man of culture truly worthy to be a member of the council of men🎩. So that's actually what I'm doing right now. I don't know if i can get anyone dedicated to reading my African Malawian writings, but writing this was fun, and i hope anyone who made it this far enjoyed it😅. I don't know how often I'll blog but i guess I'll write something once a day everytime I'm online.

Thanks for reading. 🚶🏿‍♂️

#blog post #bloggin #blogger #my life #free write #writeblr #writing #corruption #dirty cops #chicken salad #long reads #readthisnow #read more #follow #africa #african #malawi #malawian #interesting

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 5 years

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Complementary (Collins x OC) Chapter 38: New

Summary: It’s her baby’s first day in the world. Genevieve and Jack are too tired to celebrate it. For better or for worse, no one else is.

AN: This is for @itsmillartime who’s comments really pushed me to finishing this series. This is a looooong chapter. Those >1k word chapters seem like so long ago.

Thank you for bearing with me, uploads are real slow. But this story will be finished one way or another.

Previous Chapter Masterlist Next Chapter

Upon the midwives’ return, they found Genevieve in uneasiness. But that emotion was being tipped off the scales by the comfort she felt holding her baby. When she passed the child over to Jack, there was an emptiness in her chest that distracted her from listening to the midwife about passing a blood clot. Genevieve’s eyes stayed on him. He was still crying with a close-lipped smile as he cradled his daughter for the first time. What a feeling, that passed between the couple while they watched their baby interact with them. Years of waiting for such a moment.

There were more tears to come when it came to injecting inoculations into the newborn. Leaning back into the pillows, Genevieve did not strain to watch for she was too tired. But she could hear the wailing perfectly well; it made her cower into her bed. Such a heart-breaking noise, the baby did not yet understand how to cry.

“Oh darling, I know, I know! It’s awful,” Jack spoke to the baby the entire time and held her hand while the midwife prepared the final injection, “It’ll be over soon, just one more.”

The moment it was over, he scooped her up into his arms and consoled her. She felt so tiny against him, his hand covering her back completely. Her frame shook, her face red until, back in Genevieve’s arms, her gulping came to a stop.

“There we go,” She kissed the baby’s head twice and the calm that washed over the pair would only ever be known by them.

And whilst both Baby Collins and Genevieve were declared healthy by the midwives, Jack dashed downstairs to ring everyone he could - without a care for the fact that it was the early hours of the morning. The Collins’, the Hastings’, Farrier’s landline, Jack was busy ringing all he knew. He had to be quick because, every time someone answered the phone, he would start to cry a little more, until only one phrase was uttered down the receiver:

“I’ve got a baby girl. We’ve got our baby girl.”

Once he’d dragged the crib into their room, a lot of Jack’s night was spent laid beside Genevieve as she slept. She had not wanted to sleep, but her eyes were drooping and body slouching as she protested against the idea of getting rest. The baby was taken to bed, and every ten minutes or so, Jack would stand and sit down next to the crib to keep an eye on the child in there. Somehow, she was still ready to sleep despite arriving a few hours ago mid-nap.

At some point in the night, he rested his head beside Genevieve’s hand and woke up with the shock that three hours had passed. Instantly he made to check on Genevieve (still asleep and fine). He peeked over the cot next in hopes of not disturbing the occupant. The tiny baby was awake now and carefully turned her head to look around. Her arms were enfolded into the blankets, so she couldn’t free herself. It was not a fight to stretch, more a test to learn about her body in this new world. Jack met her curious stare with a small smile.

“Hello,” He whispered, “Do you remember me? I was talking to you while you were in your Ma’s tummy. I gotta hold you after you got your nasty injections.”

The baby licked her lips then tilted her head back slightly, her eyes taking in the ceiling instead of her daddy’s face. She made little noises as she moved, her breathing blending with some gurgling.

With shaking arms, Jack lifted her against his chest. He beamed as she wriggled into him. She smelt delightful. It was not something he could put into words, but she just did. Jack then realised perhaps he should have put on a shirt first as he spied it strewn over the bed’s edge. Contemplating on what he should do now, he looked to the baby who had closed her eyes again but left her tongue poking out between her lips.

Eventually he decided to take her for a walk, showing off her new room, the presents that people had bought her, and the poster that was in it. He stroked the bear’s paw across her cheek then quietly described the time he took Genevieve to see the real Sunflowers. When her eyes were open, the baby looked mostly at Jack as he spoke. Very polite of her.

“You shoulda seen your Ma in that moment. I hope the paintings come back one day so we can show you too,” Jack said as they headed downstairs, his voice raising a little more once out of earshot of the bedroom. “You have lovely eyelashes. Didn’t think you’d have grown them yet but there they are.”

Once the lower floor had been explored with all its limited interest, Jack stepped into the garden with the baby held in one arm so that he could shield her eyes from the rising sun. A new day. It was a little chilly for him, but the baby seemed content in her blankets even as they loosened, with her fingers bending and straightening around her new blanket. Crisp spring air renewed his energy, the dewy grass soaking his slippers. The flowers were all thriving that year. Bending down slightly, he picked one taller cosmos and showed it to the baby.

“I told you about these. I bet I’ll have to tell you again,” He said with a smile. The flower bounced about on its stem and the early morning breeze, its petals caressing the baby’s nose. She stared at it, mouth open, after which she sneezed. Her arms flung out in front of her, her legs kicking forward with effort in the blanket.

“Oh dear! Bless you,” Jack beamed for it was such an adorable sound. But then the baby began coughing out her cries, her face contorting to screw up her delicate features.

“Darling, it’s ok,” Jack shushed, lifting her closer so that he could kiss her head, “It’s just a little flower, it won’t hurt you anymore.” He took a seat on the bench and cuddled her closer in his chest. Not that he realised, but he swayed in his seat as he continued to talk to her, to calm her down as her cries muffling into quiet against his shoulder.

“I know, oh I know, everything’s all new to you. God, you’ve never sneezed before. What must be going on in your little head?” Jack sighed, glancing behind him as if to see through the wall where Genevieve was. Then he looked back down at the baby, her arms hardly reaching above her head, blinking up at him with a crumpled pout. As gently as possible, he lowered her back into his lap, one hand under her head, and kept his face close so she could see him sniffing as he felt a tear slip past his notice:

“Sorry, love, I’m a bit emotional right now too.” The baby seemed to listen to him now and began to interrupt with a hum or two, her way of telling him it was ok: “I’m not gonna fill your mind with that kind of thing. God, you’re so small, I feel like I gotta beat everything off with a bat. I was never really great at cricket.”

Jack trimmed the stem of the accused flower to a significantly shorter length and tucked it over her left ear. “Maybe your Ma can teach us. She had the right idea, bowled me and Ethel into the ground last summer.” The infant didn’t complain at the flower or after her bare feet slipped out the end of the blanket. In fact, she seemed to find it enjoyable when Jack played with one of them, pinching lightly her toes.

“That was one hell of a tangent. But you’re really helping Da out here.”

The sun warmed them both. Jack carefully unfolded the blanket to rest on her tummy, her arms flapping weakly in front of her as she practised movement. Meanwhile, Jack ceased conversation to watch her, fascinated with her learning, and unconsciously he leaned even closer to her. Her hands reached up to his temples as he kissed her belly. Under his lips, she tensed and shifted. Jack sensed that she might want to cry again, and he felt for her; feeling her skin against his incited such an intimate feeling he was not prepared for. It made him tear up again.

“Shall we go see if Ginny is awake, your Ma?” He whispered, his nose lightly bumping hers as she tried to move her head. Rocking carefully as he ascended the stairs, Jack soothed the baby’s grizzling. Her face did not connote one of positivity.

“Hey. Hey, it’s me,” He whispered. Though her funny little expression remained, the baby quietened down (beside from an occasional noise), something Jack rewarded with a kiss on her head. “There we go, baby girl. Hey, guess what? I love you. You’re my little girl, and I love you. I’m always gonna be here for you. Your Ma too.”

At the door, Jack gently pushed into the room, looking for whether his wife was asleep. She was not. Genevieve was wide awake and sat up in bed, clutching her bed sheets in tight fists.

“I heard her crying,” She looked at the blanket with an expression of mild terror.

“It’s ok; she just got a little scared by her sneeze.” Jack passed her over and Genevieve carefully checked over her, eyes darting across every part of her baby to see if there was truly nothing wrong. Her hand moved aside the blankets and traced over the baby’s skin. She spotted the flower still behind the baby’s ear then moved on. She found a splodge on the baby’s wrist that the midwives had informed her about then moved on. She landed on the baby’s tummy and stopped.

“She’s got a belly button,” was her conclusion.

“A cute belly button,” said Jack in agreement.

Genevieve thumbed over the baby’s cheekbone as she slowly moved her head to look around. It dislodged the cosmo, landing it beside Genevieve’s thigh. But she didn’t try to replace it. She was already occupied, taking in the weight in her arms.

“I never wanna let her go,” She whispered, not looking at Jack though she was speaking to him. Pulling her close, Genevieve took a deep breath and rubbed her cheek to the baby’s head.

When she let out a noise that sounded like she was about to cry, immediately Jack and Genevieve tensed, ready for action to do whatever they could to calm her. But the baby took matters into her own hands. Literally. She grabbed onto the baggy front of Genevieve’s nightshirt and whined.

“I think you might be hungry.”

Jack stayed at their sides as Genevieve fed their daughter for the first time. It was weirdly mesmerising to watch how quickly she adapted to becoming a mother. Even Genevieve was surprised by herself, the words of the midwife and instinct guiding her actions. Her eyes fixated on the baby’s wispy hair, her hand stroking it. Despite the minor discomfort, Genevieve felt her face softened with a smile as she clicked her tongue and spoke, the baby’s blinking slowed down and with a hand curled at her mother’s chest.

Forgetting that he was meant to get breakfast for his wife, Jack was completely in awe. Once reminded, he sped downstairs to make it and returned with a few minutes, not wanting to miss a moment. The tray rattled louder than he wanted as he placed it on the floor.

“Oh, finished already?” Genevieve whispered as she lifted up her daughter, “All full?”

“Can I burp her?” Jack asked, already reaching for the muslin rag. He just had to hold her again.

“You’re volunteering for her to be sick on you?” She joked, before nodding at him to come over.

Eagerly, Jack took a seat beside her on the bed and carefully arranged himself to hold his daughter. Genevieve did a little intervening, making sure he held her properly, before falling back into her pillows and watching them with half-closed eyes. The baby whimpered a little at the movement before she settled into regular breathing. Jack gently rubbed circles into her back then lightly patted between her tiny shoulders. He felt obligated to kiss her little head again after he held his nose to smell that freshness about her. Then he heard a wet sounding belch.

“There we go.” He patted her back once more then lifted her into his lap to wipe her mouth properly. The baby coughed, wincing away from the rag, and Jack anxiously sat her up in his chest to pat her back again. When she stopped, Jack looked at Genevieve, clearly grinning over the mug of tea.

“You’re so good with her,” and she sipped from the mug. The novelty of the mint tea was wearing thin against her tongue, but she didn’t tell Jack just yet. Still feeling the fatigue, she replaced the mug beside her and adjusted her posture until she was almost flat on her back. Jack lowered the baby onto her chest, the head beneath Genevieve’s lips that grimaced at the sight of a splodge of sick on Jack’s shirt shoulder.

The doorbell was heard and thus began a steady flow of people coming in to visit Genevieve and make sure she was alright. First visitor was surprisingly Farrier. He arrived in the early morning with flowers, Westley, and a bottle of whiskey - to make up for being stood up the night before. Nervously he stood in the doorway of the bedroom as Genevieve waved weakly from her bed. A toast was made to the pair – although they opted to go for tea instead of alcohol at eight in the morning.

Farrier didn’t stay in the room for long, not even to get a closer look at the baby. But he did decide to stay to help out. While Jack assured him that it was fine for him to go if he had plans, Farrier was already prepping to do some chores downstairs.

“Besides, I haven’t been in your gaff before. Give me a chance to explore,” He winked before heading to the kitchen to do the washing up left from the previous day. Westley followed him, his tongue hanging out. It was with profusive thanks that Jack followed and shook Farrier’s hand. His help was going to be needed if he was to spend the day looking after his wife and his baby.

His wife and his baby.

It almost didn’t feel real. In a daze, he rung up his place of work and informed them of his newfound status as a father. Then he went to open the door which was already knocking again.

“LET ME SEE THE BAIRN!”

Breezing into the house, Cora had kissed both his cheeks briefly before bellowing this demand again, running past and up the stairs. Jack proceeded to greet the rest of his family a little more calmly and allowed them indoors.

Genevieve heard Cora from her room upstairs. She snorted pathetically as she climbed back under the covers, her eye on the cot still. The softness of the room was incongruous to when Cora appeared in the doorway, frenzied with wild hair until her eyes too landed on the cot. Then she eased up into grandmother mode and dropped at Genevieve’s side.

“I’m so glad you’re alright, Genevieve.” Back to the baby, she bent over to see the child sleeping peacefully despite the disruptions. Her entire face stretched in utter elation as she was overcome with her first grandchild.

“Oh, she’s the bonniest thing! Look at that nose, just like you when you were this size.” Cora patted Jack’s arm in recognition, but without tearing her eyes from the cot.

The rest of the Collins clan popped up in the doorway, trying not to overwhelm the family. Cora began to commandeer those with her, ordering everyone to the side of the room so that the new parents could awaken the baby in peace before providing the opportunity to hold her.

Karen and Ethel went up first, insisting no one would get a turn holding the baby if Cora went before anyone else. They took turns, with Toby and Jack leaning over their shoulders. The four siblings watched the baby breathe slowly, falling back to sleep in her auntie’s arms only to be woken when being passed to another person. She barely cried though, for she could hear Genevieve talking nearby to her in-laws. There was recognition there and in the smell of the blanket that the baby was wrapped in, the same blanket Genevieve had slept with it for the past few weeks. Familiarity filled the room and the baby was good as gold for the Collins.

When it came to Cora’s turn, she paced up and down the room whilst playing with one of the baby’s hands. Her husband followed her about with his body in a crooked position so that he could see his granddaughter. The siblings were downstairs with Jack and Farrier, though what they were up to Genevieve had no idea.

“When will she be able to wear those clothes, the ones she got for Christmas?” He asked as he took a break, Cora continuing to move about the room.

“Not for a long time,” Genevieve sighed into her mug of tea, “She’s got some growing to do first.”

It would take some time, but Cora would eventually stop her drill marches and settled on the end of the bed. She didn’t speak so much then, at least not until she and Genevieve were alone in the bedroom. Her husband had gone to check on his kids (”make sure they’re behavin’ themselves”).

That was when Cora said quietly, “We’re so glad you’re alright, you and the baby. After everything that happened. Might I suggest ‘Cora’?”

Appreciating the lack of focus on “what happened”, Genevieve wiped her nose on the corner of her blanket and answered, “You might, but I can’t guarantee it’ll be chosen for her name.” And the pair shared a smile, knowing full well that Cora was not to be the name of the bairn.

“Might as well throw my hat into the ring.”

With kisses on everyone’s cheeks, especially the baby’s, Jack waved his family goodbye at lunch time, which when Genevieve’s family arrived. A five-minute exchange, the Hastings’ appeared with more muted joy for the baby. Except for two people.

Beryl peeked at her granddaughter and had to take a moment outside the room, weeping into her handkerchief. James on the other hand leapt onto the bed to meet his cousin. Lilly followed, though with more control than her son. She climbed beside Genevieve on the bed, and the sisters sat together.

“You remember when James was just a baby?” Lilly touched her forefinger to the baby’s head.

With a slow nod, Genevieve said, “I was scared of him.”

James cocked his head in confusion, “Scared of me?” Then he began laughing uproariously at the idea. Contrary to popular belief, in James’ eyes, she wasn’t scared of anything. It wasn’t long before Genevieve joined in.

“Yeah, you were so tiny, I was scared to hurt you,” She explained through her laughter. Once settled, she finished: “And now look at you, big boy.”

When it came to his turn, Tony - Genevieve’s father - cradled the baby with such care, as if he were destined to hold her.

“A strong and healthy little girl, just like her mother,” He said quietly, kneeling down so that James could see her too. It reminded Genevieve of one of the few photos in her family home: Tony sat in his ancient arm chair, holding a baby Genevieve with Lilly sat at his side, looking over with a screwed-up expression at her baby sister. He even kissed the baby’s fist that was enclosed about his finger.

Evidently the baby didn’t like the feel of his moustache and began to snivel, the start of a crying fit. Genevieve held out her hands and instantly the baby was placed back with her. Tucking her blanket back around her, Genevieve consoled her down to a whimper.

“That’s a good girl,” She said with a kiss. She liked kissing the baby; her hair felt all fuzzy.

When the baby was calmed, Genevieve looked to her fidgeting nephew. He was staring still at the bundle in her arms. His hands were wriggling his fingers together, his body bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Would you like to hold her, James?”

The question was barely out in the air, but James was already atop the bed again, with his arms outstretched for his cousin. The adults of the room were nervous. James himself assured that he was a big boy now, his legs swinging. Genevieve carefully helped him to carry his cousin with Lilly sat beside him to steady him.

“She’s heavy,” He said, though it was more of a statement rather than a complaint. But he was smiling, the whole time, and he didn’t stop. Not even as he passed back the baby, not even as he left with his parents.

More and more visitors came and went: friends from Genevieve’s workplace, Jack’s RAF mates, random cousins and the like. More to meet the new member of the Collins family but they brought gifts and they were quiet, so that was acceptable.

But there came a time – specifically three in the afternoon – that Genevieve was tired of speaking and just wanted to sleep. She was too hot, too stiff, too exhausted to see anyone else. So, she kicked the blankets off pathetically and seized her opportunity while the baby had a nap. Didn’t take long to join her in slumber.

She woke up, hardly refreshed but her baby was hungry and making sure that everyone knew about it.

“I guess my schedule revolves around you now,” She mumbled to the crying baby as Jack entered and passed her to her Ma.

There was a knock at the door just as Baby Collins finished feeding. Preparing to burp her again, Genevieve granted both Jack and an anxious Farrier entry. Forearms damp from washing up, Farrier sat awkwardly at Genevieve’s side and watched the baby resting in her Ma’s arms.

“Do you want to hold her?” Jack asked, tucking the rest of his sleeve in the fold at the elbow.

The poor man started spluttering but Genevieve was already holding the baby out, “Farrier, I need the bathroom; please take her.”

Not wanting to argue with the lady, Farrier wiped his arms down his jumper. He clumsily organised his arms into a cradle and accepted the frowning baby. He swallowed hard, looking helplessly at Jack. In silence, Jack helped Farrier to coordinate his arms in a more comfortable way for his friend and his daughter. Then he moved over to Genevieve, carefully helping her out of bed and walking her to the bathroom. Her limp was rather prominent, a sharp spike up her leg, but she gritted her teeth and kept walking.

“He’ll be alright, won’t he?” Jack whispered to Genevieve.

She snorted as the door to the bathroom was opened to her, “He better be. Unless he fancies getting in here. I’ll be fine too.”

She held up a hand to signal that Jack should not follow her into the bathroom and closed the door on him. Despite wanting to check in on Farrier, Jack remained outside the bathroom door in case Genevieve needed anything.

Genevieve was indeed fine, half smiling at Jack’s indecisiveness when she heard his nails tapping against the door handle. She took a breather, sitting on the toilet and leaning against her folded arms on her knees. She still felt too warm. It was a stale feeling that hung about her head. But it was good to have a moment of peace. Sitting up, she stretched and felt many cracks in her back snapping the further she reached.

The stale feeling was still there after she finished her business by washed her hands then splashed cold water on her face. Genevieve prepared a flannel under the tap. It was welcomed with a sigh of relief on the back of her neck.

Jack took her arm again as soon as she stepped from the bathroom. He turned in time to catch Genevieve in a hug. The flannel dripped excess water onto his shoulder but Genevieve barely noticed. Her breathing soothed into deep intakes. He was a little sweaty, but a) she knew she smelt worse and b) he would always be her favourite smell because it was the only warmth that she loved, rocking her from side to side with a hand in her hair, a shoulder to lean on, and no space between them.

“Want me to carry you?” She felt his words buzz against her ear.

“I’m a bit sore for that but thank you. Some toast would be nice though.”

She felt that giddiness he gave her when he walked her back into bed. Once back in, she left the blankets off and placed the flannel folded behind her head.

When Jack was out of the way after a kiss on her forehead, Genevieve saw that Baby Collins was still glaring up at the stranger holding her, her lips smacking slowly and her arms hitting his jacket as they came loose from the swaddled blankets she was in. Farrier looked genuinely worried that he’d upset her but, paralysed by that worry, he did not move.

“You alright?” Genevieve prompted, almost smug from her leisurely place on the bed.

It took a moment for Farrier to register her question, for the baby was taking all his concentration. But he managed to get out: “She’s staring at me.”

“Yeah, she’s never seen you before,” Genevieve smirked, “And you’ve got a funny looking face.”

“Oh, I’m wounded,” But Genevieve heard the smile in Farrier’s words and saw his stiff back had begun to relax. Jack appeared over his shoulder, looking at the baby who was waving one of her arms at him. Such an image led Jack to decide: now was a good time to ask a question much-discussed between himself and Genevieve.

“Ginny and I were thinking; the baby would love a funny looking face such as yours to be her godfather.”

Farrier looked as though he was about to drop the baby in shock, finally looking up at his friends. “Really?”

Genevieve hummed from the bed and Jack concurred, speaking on her behalf as she began to doze off, “You’re a big part of our lives, Edward. We want you to be a big part in hers too.”

It was rare that Jack would use Farrier’s first name. Genevieve even acclimatised to that and used his surname in conversation with and in reference to the man. He seemed to find it difficult to process this, instead looking at the baby. She looked back and finally she seemed to stop frowning.

With a sniff and a swallow, Farrier said in a strangely soft voice, “I won’t let you down, either of you.”

He left shortly after that and was very emotional about saying goodbye to his soon-to-be goddaughter. After the day spent at the house, he had plucked up the nerve to kiss her, his lips grazing her forehead which wrinkled in response as she yawned. No one brought up that his eyes were very misty as he departed. Westley sprinted out the front door and leapt at his side, leaving the house quiet once again.

Jack stayed downstairs for a little bit, said he had some thinking to do and some toast to be making, and gave Genevieve some space with the baby. She was grateful for this alone time. Lying down properly, she rested with her baby in her chest. The baby was awake, pressing her cheek into Genevieve’s nightshirt as her mother stroked across her back and held her little hand. It rested over the scar on her shoulder.

“Are you worn out?” Genevieve mumbled, “Me too. All these new people coming to say hello, it’s tiring isn’t it?”

She pressed her lips against the baby and whispered, “It’s scary but I think I’ll love you no matter what. Like Jack, your dad, and I hope we can tell you all about it, so you know you’re loved, unconditionally.”

Her hand was so much larger than the baby’s. It encompassed her whole arm, a chubby little limb that was so soft. The thumb carefully turned the baby’s wrist around to show to Genevieve the birthmark that had grown darker over the day: a little blob in the same spot as her mother’s.

“Look at that, we match.” Her voice cracked at that and she admitted aloud to the pair of them, “I’ve fallen for you so fast.”

They were both quiet for a while, not sleeping but sitting in each other’s company. With vases of new flowers about them, a breeze through the window, Genevieve felt calmer than she had in the last few weeks. She knew it wouldn’t last for long, so she embraced it as she embraced her child.

When she did speak, it was hushed, “We still have to give you a name. I wish you could have a say in this, tell me what you like. What to call you…”

Genevieve mulled over the options she’d found in a baby name book browsed months before, ones she’d talked to the bump about, “I’m still not sure. You don’t look like a Peggy or a Connie or a Freya. Freya means ‘lady’ too and your Daddy already has that problem with his name.” Then she sniggered to herself, “‘Man Son of Collin’, imagine having that for a name. You’re gonna have a really cool name, like me, your Mummy.”

The baby exhaled loudly and unbent her arms, shaking inside Genevieve’s gentle grip.

“Yeah, that’s my hand. Nice to meet you… Stella. I like Stella. What do you think? For your name, I mean. I told you about it before. Because you’re a bright star in my Starry Night. I know your Da told you about it, it’s all he’d do at night when I was pretending to sleep. He’s a Sunflower, I love sunflowers but he likes cosmos more. I was gonna plant some sunflowers this month, they say to plant them in April, grow in three months. They’ll be taller than you in no time.”

All between her words, Genevieve heard the baby gurgle. She liked to think they were in conversation.

“Not that we need more flowers, it’s like a botanical garden in here!” She said as Jack brought in another bouquet from downstairs.

“You don’t seem to mind, spending all day looking after flowers,” he arranged the bunch into another vase.

“That’s a retirement plan, not a career.”

“Right,” He smirked as he delicately arranged the bouquet into one of their jugs. Once satisfied, he plucked two carnations from it and trimmed the stems. Tucking one behind Genevieve’s ear, he swept his hand over her head and around to touch her cheek. He fell over with controlled care to make eye contact with the babe, “Hello, Baby Collins.”

Then he tried to do the same with the baby. There was little success. The flower was too big. Another reason why cosmos were better. Still, he brushed the petal across her rosebud lips and tucked it behind his own ear. This earned a smile from Genevieve who was pleased as punch that they matched. Jack lay down beside them, his hand joining Genevieve’s in running their fingertips across the baby’s back before he played with one of her feet again. It flexed in his hand, soft as anything, with toes tinier than his smallest knuckle.

“I guess we can’t call her Cosmos or Star,” He mumbled.

Laughing weakly, Genevieve brushed her daughter’s wispy hair with the back of her forefinger, “Cosmos Collins? No chance, not even as a middle name.”

“Sunny, short for Sunflower?”

She shook her head.

“What about naming her after your Ma?”

“Mm-mmm, and not after your mother either, even though she asked. Baby and I were actually thinking about Stella. ’S Latin, for Star.”

“Stella for Star,” Jack tested out, rolling the letters about his mouth to see how they fell off the tongue. Said enough times for the word to nearly lose all meaning, Jack turned back to his daughter, “You seem to like it, don’t you? Well, hello there, Stella.”

Genevieve laughed again, weaker still, “You keep saying hello to the baby.”

“I keep saying hello to Stella, my daughter,” Jack said, his grin widening as he spoke. The pair shared a giggle as he continued to talk to Stella, “Better that your Ma makes the decisions, she’s a smart one.”

When Genevieve went to sit up, Jack swooped in instantly, cupping the back of Stella’s head and under her bum to rest her in his shoulder. He noticed that Genevieve did not stay sat up for long, already sliding back down after sipping some water. So as not to strain her neck, he took a seat on the bed beside her.

“For the middle name, d’you know what ‘blancmange’ is in Latin?”

“You know what, Jack?” Genevieve lifted an eyebrow and Jack knew that, despite giving birth not twenty-four hours ago, she would verbally beat him in their quips. “Did you have another idea?”

He fidgeted with Stella’s blanket, adjusting it around her middle, “Still think that blancmange is a viable option, but I had another in mind.”

“Yeah?”

“Hmm.”

After a substantial silence, Genevieve prompted the reluctant Jack, “Well? Go on then.”

“… I also like Josie.”

And all sound suddenly became muffled.

Ears plugged, mind dizzy, Genevieve vaguely heard Jack’s explanation that it was short for Josephine but that he liked Josie as a whole name over the ringing. With a blankly vulnerable expression, she felt her eyes welling up at the mention of her old girlfriend. Such an impact was expected from his words, but it still took her time to realise that Jack was waiting to hear her response.

“Are you serious?” and there was a crack in her voice.

A little thrown off by the question and its tone despite his best preparations, Jack cautiously continued, “Hmm. I mean it’s only fair since we nearly named her after Farrier. I just think it would’ve been nice to know. Get some closure.” Such closure Jack was lucky to get with Farrier. He had moved on.

Genevieve looked down at her hands, empty, and sniffed loudly before drawing a pillow from behind her to clasp it in her chest.

“I don’t think that’s the sort of closure I need,” She said quietly, pressing her mouth into the pillow.

Jack avoided looking at Genevieve. He could feel his neck and ears filling with a red shame. Part of him knew perhaps he should have waited. The two days had been so taxing on her mentally, this was probably the last thing he needed. Swallowing, he instead glanced at Stella who was slowly falling to sleep.

He spoke quickly, already stood up, “I think she needs to change into her pyjamas. I’ll do the honours, don’t worry.”

Whisking her away to the changing mat on the floor, Jack kept his eyes trained on Stella. Her legs refused to straighten, jerking sporadically. The carnation that had been behind Jack’s ear had fallen to her right cheek, the petal gentle in its contact.

“Sleepy?” He asked quietly as Stella yawned with tremendous effort, “You and me both. Bet your Ma’s more tired though.”

While it took some time to settle in, Genevieve now felt the force of her comment’s connotations. She was upset that she’d embarrassed him so, not to mention the implication that closure she wanted contradicted what she had previously said on the matter. It was a lovely suggestion too, after the whole name betting with Farrier. Over the pillow, she spied her tags on the bedside table. With care, she leant over, collected them, and wrapped the bootlace around her fingers, traced over the name engraved as part of the Big Six: COLLINS J. She thought about what Jack must have been like upon signing up, and the immense joy of finally getting his tags. Did he call his parents? Show off with his fellow trainees? Did they celebrate by going out to a pub, in their fresh blues? She’d never really asked about him just before the war. Baby to teenage years, yes, but never in his early twenties. Putting her pillow back behind her, Genevieve saved this question and its many tangents for another time.

Her finger stroked over her wedding ring on the bootlace, still awaiting their reunion. It made Genevieve let loose a tear at the thought of being able to wear it again. Jack did not see this, too busy adjusting Stella’s mittens so that she wouldn’t hurt herself while she slept.

“Bring her to me please,” Genevieve asked, her arms already outstretched while she sniffed.

That was when Jack spied his old tags tangled in her fingers. But he said nothing, lifting Stella over and into her mother’s care again. They watched as Stella rubbed her cheeks with the mittens with a yawn stretching her features.

Lowering herself back into the bed, Genevieve turned to her husband, “I knew you wanted another J. Collins in the house.” And she let out a wheeze at her little joke. Jack laughed along to pretend he knew what she meant, unsure about the variety in her behaviour. He only realised the weight of her words when she spoke again:

“Lucky for her, Stella Josie Collins has a nice ring to it. But I don’t think we should make a habit of naming our children after our first loves.”

A heavy sigh was the prologue of Jack’s second – and this time genuine – chuckle. His head dropped, his chin against his chest, shaking with relief that boiled over in his body. Seeing this as approval, Genevieve gestured for her husband to lie beside her again, which he did with mild exhaustion. There, she took his left hand to kiss his wedding ring, snugly tucked on the scar from when he gotten it trapped in a car door. Jack could only snuggle closer to her, turning on his side but still propped up.he kissed a spot on her neck, trying to hide that he was crying a fair bit. Jack sniffed, wiping a tear away in time for another to run down his cheek.

“I love you so.”

“I love you too.”

As Jack made a stronger attempt to stop crying, Genevieve watched him pull a face similar to the babe in her arms and let out a loud laugh. Her head fell back into the pillows as she muffled it to a snort before looking back down at Stella.

“She looks a bit concerned,” and the new parents leant together to catch their daughter’s eye, “Why’s your Da crying now? Hmm? Why’s he doing that, Stella?”

While she teased, Jack watched Stella’s frumpy face blinking up at him, slow as she began to doze off. He touched Stella’s cheek with curled fingers to be gentle on her skin.

“I’m being a silly boy, Stella. Worrying about nothing. Loving your everything.”

________________________________________________________

Everything Tag: @tomgcsglasses and @nasabeck

Dunkirk Tag:@lowdenglynnstyles, @kgcurtis30, @carneylowdenwhitehead, @theres-no-paradise, @blondeeee-e, @luleraina, @starryrevelations and @orphan-with-a-stutter

Jack Lowden Tag: @musicallisto, @adriennelenoir, @lowdensnose, @from-the-clouds, @johannalauraaa, and @lowdenfanpage

Complementary Tag: @you-are-the-first-dream, @disneydirectioner, @lavidademarimar, @sweetsugarhoneyfics, and @prettyboytgc

#collins dunkirk #collins x reader #collins x oc #jack lowden #jack lowden x reader #jack lowden x oc #complementary #my writing #r: female #dunkirk series #dunkirk #series #collins imagine #collins series #jack lowden imagine #jack lowden series

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sleepyblackgrl-archive · 5 years

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SUPERGIRL S4 FINALE-SPOILERS

26:74 - I don’t know. It’s nice that Brainy is back and all, but it seems like it would’ve been a really good story line if they had made it last little longer and made it so the team had to save/fix him. Happy he’s back but seems like some missed opportunities for stories.

32:25 - Lex: Girl, you ain’t gon kill me!! Lena:

33:35 - I saw this coming from a mile away, but he didn’t have to be so rude lol. You coulda just played the tape and died! Nah, had to stop and ruin her entire life first lol. Also, he shoulda been dead lol. He took like 2 or 3 shots to the chest, how did live long enough to get this villainous speech out lmao? He went “Nah, Satan ain’t taking me till I say what I gotta say!!”

34:59 - SG Writers: So, James’ powers gotta go. It was cute while it lasted but uhhhh we don’t really know what to do with that, so bye bye. But people might be mad that we got rid of them, so what should give as a replacement?......... A FUCKING EYEPATCH!!!! LMAO!! *No shade, this is just a wee joke lol. *

38:35 - So, she just no gon tell her lol. I swear if they try and make Lena evil because of this bullshit, imma blow a gasket.

So, is Eve a triple agent? Because she was working for Lex against Lena, which made her a double. But if she was working for Leviathan against Lex? That’s a triple??

I LOVE HOW LENA JUST LEFT LEX’S BODY THERE LMAO!! Also, the soundtrack during that scene was really good.

#sbg.watches #supergirl

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kadaransmuggler · 6 years

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here’s the first fic about a courier who’s close to my heart.

title: don’t you know heartaches are heroes (when their pockets are full)? rating: mature pairing: benny/male courier summary: “It’s hard to love a courier. It’s even harder to love a man like Eli.”

Eli falls into bed with Benny as easy as he falls into any old habit. He thinks it should be harder than it is, to fall into the bed of the man who tried to kill him, but nobody’s ever accused him of being cautious. And he’s good, too, it’s the best sex Eli has had in years. But laying next to him after is the problem, when he feels like he wants to crawl out of his own skin at the thought of being this vulnerable. Usually, he’s already getting up, pulling his clothes back on. Eli’s always been one to fuck them and leave them, and Benny shouldn’t be an exception, but he is.

“Shame I ever tried to kill you,” Benny says, dragging him out of his reverie, the sheet pooled around his waist, sweaty and still just a little out of breath. Eli snorts from his place next to Benny, one leg outside the blankets.

“Coulda told you I was a better fuck than you’d get elsewhere,” Eli says, leaning over and plucking a lighter from the pocket of his jeans. Neither of them mention how Eli had probably been more considerate than anyone else, too, never telling Benny what he should or should not have in his pants, just asking for permission before touching and then rutting him into the mattress until they were both a mess. He reaches over, stealing a cigarette from the end table by the bed and lighting it.

“Hey, that’s my lighter,” Benny protests, sitting up just enough to look offended, and Eli turns to look at him with a crooked grin.

“The Khans told me to shove it up your ass when I found you. Thought I might keep it, but if you really want it back, well, maybe they’ll get a kick out of it,” he answers. Benny shakes his head and lays back down with a huff.

“Fine, fine. Keep it, I guess. I did try to kill you,” he mumbles, guilt flashing in his eyes for half a second, and Eli’s grin turns downright predatory.

He drops the lighter down onto the bed before rolling over, straddling Benny’s waist. He sits up, his hands coming to rest on Eli’s hips

“Ready for round two?” Benny asks, and Eli chuckles, tilting his chin up. The cigarette dangles from his mouth, and Benny thinks about taking it. He doesn’t, though, because Eli drags his other hand down Benny’s stomach and he can’t quite stop himself from squirming.

“Not quite,” Eli murmurs, and then he snuffs out the cigarette and leaves it on the bedside table, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips. It’s just this side of angry, and Benny knows he ain’t over what happened in Goodsprings, but he can’t bring himself to care as he moves his hands up Eli’s sides. He’s playing with fire, but he thinks he’d be okay with getting burned.

Eli breaks the kiss to leave a trail of them down Benny’s jaw, until his lips find that sensitive spot just beneath his ear and Benny’s hands are fisted in the sheets around their waists.

“You have something else in mind?” he asks, a little breathlessly. Eli chuckles, the sound sending vibrations through him, and Benny had thought five minutes ago that he’d been fully satisfied, but now he wanted the courier to have his way with him on every surface in the room. He lets out a whine as Eli’s teeth brush against his skin. Eli laughs again, low and warm.

“I stopped to talk to House before I made my way here,” Eli tells him, like it’s a secret, and Benny stills beneath him. The fear he feels now still isn’t enough to push out the arousal and he just hopes that Eli will fuck him again before he kills him.

“I guess this is the end of the line, then,” Benny breathes, and Eli starts trailing kisses lower and lower.

“In a sense,” he agrees, and then Benny’s back hits the mattress and he shifts his hips so Eli can slide his knee between his thighs.

“You gonna tell me, or are you gonna keep me in the dark?” he asks, nervously, and Eli laughs again.

“I’ve got a plan,” he begins, but then he pulls his knee back only to replace it with his hand and Benny arches up, a whine building in his throat as Eli slips two fingers inside, “but I think it can wait until we’re done.”

“You’re a cruel man,” Benny gasps, and Eli laughs again, moving back up to press another kiss against his lips.

“I could always stop,” he reminds him, and Benny’s hands come up, his nails digging into Eli’s back as he holds him in place.

“Don’t you dare,” he breathes, so Eli gets back to work until Benny comes undone beneath him a second time before sitting back, breathing just a little unsteady. He licks his fingers with a smirk and Benny lets out a whine, falling back against the pillows. He thinks it’s a little unfair what the courier does to him.

“So what’s the plan?” Benny asks, his voice just shy of shaking.

“We take Vegas from House,” he answers, and then he slides off the bed before picking Benny up and slamming his back into the wall. Benny gasps, clinging to Eli as the courier laughs. There’ll be bruises on them both come morning

“You’re insatiable,” he says, but he wraps his legs around his waist eagerly, tilting his head back to give him easier access to his neck as he slips inside.

“Maybe I just want to work out some aggression,” Eli says, voice low, and then he moves his hips just enough to make Benny whine, as sensitive as he still is, and all thoughts of Vegas escape the both of them until night has long turned into morning.

----

The first time they’d fucked, when they were well and truly done because neither of them could go anymore, Eli had rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face in the pillow. His breath evened out, slowing, but Benny could tell he wasn’t asleep. He looks over at his gun on the nightstand, thinks about how easy it’d be to reach over and pick it up, to put a bullet in Eli’s head and ensure that his plans kept going smooth.

He doesn’t. Instead, he reaches out, puts one hand on the flat of Eli’s back. His skin is warm, smells like sweat and sunshine, and the courier tenses beneath him. He doesn’t move, though, keeps his eyes closed and pretends to sleep even as a breath hitches just a little.

It’s then that Benny realizes that Eli was the one who put the gun on the nightstand, within reach, Eli who’d rolled over like he was waiting for something. “Fuck,” he breathes, and it is only then that Eli raises his head.

“What’s the matter? Too much of a coward to do it now?” he asks, eyes cold and mean, but a little desperate too.

“I didn’t want to do it before. I’m not a murderer, I’m a businessman, and now we’re working together. Did you really expect me to plant another bullet in your brain?” Benny asks, demands, and he doesn’t know why it stings a little.

“Shoulda known it wouldn’t work,” he mutters, and then he’s sitting up, swinging his feet off the side of the bed. The sun is rising outside, the sky turning grey. In a few minutes, it’ll be turning pink. Benny’s watched a lot of Vegas sunrises before. This one feels different.

“Should have known what wouldn’t work?” he asks, defensive, and Eli turns to him as he pulls on his jeans.

“Should have known you wouldn’t be brave enough to finish the fucking job,” he says, and then he’s storming out of the bedroom, snatching his clothes up as he passes.

Benny stays where he is, turns his eyes up to the ceiling. He doesn’t know why he feels so empty and hollow inside.

-----

When Eli leaves the Tops, Benny is dead. At least, that’s the official story, the one that most people will know in the days to come. There’s only a scant handful of people that know Benny is just holed up in the Tops, waiting on Eli to put the rest of his plan into motion. He spends the next few weeks bored out of his skull while Eli plays nice with House, but the courier makes sure to visit every so often, so it could be worse. He doesn’t leave his room, either, because it’s too much of a risk. He’s only got Yes-Man for company, and Benny’s never regretted his decisions more.

He also regrets the fact that he put a bullet in Eli’s head. The courier tells him he’s over it, tells him that he never really cared in the first place because business was business, but Benny sees the way Eli’s eyes track every move he makes, remembers how he’d snapped at him after that first night. Eli never stays, either, pulling his jeans on as soon as they’re done, always leaving.

Months have passed before Eli comes back in the middle of the night with clothes that are nice enough for the casino but not nice enough for a Chairman. Benny knows they’re for him, because they’re too short to be for Eli.

“What’s the occasion?” Benny asks from the bed, pulling Eli down onto his lap as soon as he’s close enough and pressing a kiss against his lips. Eli is warm against him, smells like sweat and the desert sand, maybe a little of gun oil.

“I thought you might like to be there when House dies,” he says, when he pulls back, a wicked grin on his face. Benny’s grinning back when he kisses him again, fingers curling into fists in Eli’s t-shirt.

“You’re too good to me,” he says, and he doesn’t tell him how he’d missed him while he was gone, doesn’t tell him just how much he’s thought about him for the past few weeks. He knows Eli’s type well enough by now, knows that if he said something like that, Eli would get cagey and leave for a while, maybe forever. Everything else can come later, Benny tells himself, when Vegas is theirs and they don’t have to worry anymore.

Later, he’ll laugh at how foolishly optimistic he was. It’s hard to love a courier, and even harder to love a man like Eli.

-----

Eli is gone when Benny finds out. Benny isn’t quite sure where, either, Eli had only mentioned a caravan in between kisses before he’d fucked him again. He’d still been there when Benny had fallen asleep, but he was gone by the time he’d woken up. Benny usually didn’t mind- it was nice to have the Lucky 38 to himself, and Eli just got mean when he was stuck in one place for long.

But then he’d gotten sick and taken a trip to the Old Mormon Fort out in Freeside, where Arcade had told him he was pregnant and gone and ruined all of his plans.

Gannon must have been sympathetic, because he’d told Julie to get by without him and walked Benny back to the Lucky 38.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Benny admitted, because Eli looked like a cornered animal anytime Benny got close to telling him he loved him and neither of them were really ready to have a child.

“Shouldn’t be too long until he’s back. He’s gotten good at coming home, with the city being his, and all,” Arcade says, almost hesitantly, and Benny buries his face in his hands and sinks onto one of the old couches.

“It’s not just that. He’s not…he’s not fit to be a dad. And neither am I, but at least I think I can adjust. He won’t even fall asleep in the same bed as me. Won’t even look at me, sometimes,” Benny says, and when he looks up Arcade realizes that he’s probably never let anybody see him look so scared and vulnerable before.

“Tell him when he comes back. Eli’s isn’t a bad man, Benny. He cares. He just…doesn’t know how to show it. But he deserves to know,” he says, grimacing, because he knew what a shitty excuse that was. Arcade had stayed for awhile, but then he’d gone back home, leaving Benny with his thoughts when he couldn’t even drink them away.

Another week drags by, and then another, and Benny has started to worry, really worry now, because Eli’s never been gone this long before, not after House’s death, when Vegas started to become theirs. He starts sleeping down on the casino floor, after talking Boone into helping him manhandle a couch into the elevator and out near the door.

Eli staggers inside late one night, or maybe it’s early one morning, Benny only sees the darkness outside for a half a second before the door shuts again. The lights flicker on and if Benny were a different man he might have screamed, ‘cause Eli is wrapped in bloody bandages and angrier than Benny’s ever seen him.

-----

Benny tries to wait for the right time to tell him, but Eli’s moodier after he gets back than he would have been if he’d stayed. They’re in the cocktail lounge, a bottle of whiskey in Eli’s hand and a glass of Nuka Cola in Benny’s. Eli had been itching for a fight all week, and now he’s taking it out on Benny, hurling thinly veiled insults until Benny’s ready to scream.

“I’m pregnant,” he says, then, instead, because he isn’t going to give Eli the satisfaction of getting a rise out of him. The air goes still and silent as Eli stares at him, the seconds dragging on as Benny waits, feeling like he’s going to be sick.

“What?” Eli asks, his voice quiet. His fingers tighten around the bottle of whiskey, and for one horrifying second Benny thinks he might throw it at him. He realizes, then, in the handful of heartbeats before he can make himself respond, that he barely knows Eli at all. It doesn’t matter how he feels, doesn’t matter that he hasn’t been able to stop himself from falling in love when all they’ve done is rut.

“I’m pregnant. I found out while you were in Zion,” he says, voice tight. Eli sits the bottle of whiskey down, his movements deliberate, and then he stands up and walks over to him. Benny puts his drink down on the counter, too, but he changes his stance because he refuses to let the courier corner him.

“I’ve been home a week. Why haven’t you told me?” he asks, his voice rough.

“I wanted to find the right time. But I realized there’s never going to be a right time,” he answers. Eli sighs, then leans down, pressing a kiss to Benny’s cheek before he takes his hand in his own.

“I’m sorry. I could give you a dozen excuses for the way I am, but they’d just be excuses. I know I’m not…I know I’m hard to handle. You deserve better,” Eli murmurs, and then Benny leans up on his tiptoes to kiss him, letting go of his hand to wrap his arms around his neck. It’s softer than any kiss they’ve shared before, and when Benny pulls away Eli holds his breath like he’s waiting for a knife in the back. For some reason, Benny feels like crying. He decides he’ll blame it on the baby.

Benny opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but Eli speaks before he can. “I can help you get rid of it, I think, in a safe way,” he says, his hands resting lightly on his hips, and Benny goes still. He hadn’t thought about it, not really, but he realized that he couldn’t bring himself to give this up. It might be the only part of Eli he ever gets to keep, and he knows that isn’t the right thing to think about when bringing a child into the world, but Benny is finally ready to love something and he thinks that he’s more ready to have the baby than he is to give it up.

“It is our baby. And I’m keeping it,” he says, voice stiff as he pulls back. Eli sighs, but he doesn’t make a move to grab him again. All the fight has drained out of both of them, even as Benny puts one hand on his stomach protectively and tries not to show how scared he is.

“I’m not going to try to change your mind, then. But this…I’m not going to be a good father,” he warns. Benny sighs, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around him. Eli hesitates, but then he wraps Benny up in a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“I don’t expect you to. I know I’m going to be doing most of the work. But I want to keep the baby,” he says. Eli just nods, pressing another kiss to Benny’s head before he lets his hand drift down, pressing over the flat of Benny’s stomach, right next to Benny’s hand. It’s too early for there to be any signs, but for the first time since he was seventeen and stupid, Eli lets himself hope.

“I’ll do what I can,” Eli promises, voice cracking just a little.

“I…good. But you aren’t going to do to this baby like you do to me. If you want to keep pushing it away, like you do me, you can find somewhere else to live. This baby is going to know that it’s loved,” he says, and that’s when he knows that he’ll break his own heart for his baby.

It’s not like Eli doesn’t break his heart anyway, like he doesn’t leave it in pieces at the door every time he leaves. Benny tries not to hold it against him. It’s starting to get harder.

Eli just nods, presses another kiss to the top of his head. Later, Benny will wonder if Eli ever thought he might get better, or if it was just another way to pull his heart around.

----

Benny was a fool to think Eli might stick around. He’s gone two weeks after knows, and he would have left sooner if he’d been healed up enough. He knows Eli is trying a little more, though, cause he shows up more frequently as Benny starts to get bigger, his stomach rounding out. There’s still a lot of nights that Benny paces alone in the penthouse, Yes-Man’s eyes following him as he moves back and forth in front of the windows, one hand on his belly. He starts talking to the baby when he starts showing, promising that he was going to keep Eli from breaking the baby’s heart too.

Arcade starts coming by more often, though, sitting with Benny for hours. There are some nights he just stays in the Lucky 38, tells Benny it’ll be easier if he’s only a shout away when he needs him. Benny thanks him as many ways as he can without actually saying it, but he finds that he does sleep better at night with the doctor down the hallway.

Boone starts coming by, too, doing the heavy lifting to get everything set up. Benny doesn’t know Eli’s friends, not really, only knows that Eli gave them permission to stay in the Presidential Suite as long and as much as they wanted, but Eli must have told them because they all start showing up more. Cass would have been good to drink with, he thinks, because she’ll sit in the lounge with him while she steadily makes her way through their liquor supply and he makes similar progress on their Sarsaparilla stash. Her jokes get worse the more she drinks, but by the end Benny always laughs until he’s lightheaded.

He isn’t sure when Eli’s friends started becoming his friends, too, but he’s not complaining. He likes the company, and they’re better to him than Eli ever is.

---

Eli tries to stay more the bigger Benny gets, but he feels like something is crawling under his skin. Old ghosts he can’t shake hang heavy around him, and sometimes he thinks he might die if he doesn’t leave. He’s always been selfish, so he always does leave, lets the dust settle onto his skin like it’ll protect him. He doesn’t go far, though, always comes home when he feels like he can breathe again.

Benny’s started to get real big when Eli picks up the signal on his Pip-Boy. It’s cryptic, only coordinates and the words Courier Six. He can’t face Benny when he’s about to leave on something this big, so instead he leaves a note and packs his gear, and heads out into the desert before the early morning sun has risen.

---

Benny finds the note on the pillow next to his. Eli must have snuck in and left it. When he reads it, he tries not to be angry.

It’s an ending, Eli promises.

Benny’s gonna hold him to that.

---

He recognizes where he’s going before he’s halfway there. This is a road he’s walked before.

A road he thought he’d never walk again.

The memories feel like barbed wire wrapped around his heart.

---

He is seventeen when he first steps foot in the Divide. It is empty, devoid of life, but Eli’s never been a people person. He runs a handful of jobs through the empty, broken streets, and he goes back to Vegas.

He comes back a handful of months later, after his eighteenth birthday. There is a town, in the center of the ruins, and an empty building that will become a home just for him. He builds his own furniture, builds a life he’s never gotten to have. He lives in between a bar and a general store.

He knows it’s his deliveries that keep the place going, so he keeps making them. When he leaves, it is always with regret. When he returns, it is always with a smile.

He has finally found a home.

He will not have it for long.

---

He meets a girl. She works in the general store, sometimes, and she has red hair and freckles and she smells like sunshine. He walks her to the bar, two buildings down, points out his own front door with a smile. They drink and they drink until they can’t drink anymore, and then she clings to his arm and follows him home.

They fall into bed together. Neither of them will remember much of that night, but it will become a regular thing. Usually, he’ll go home with her, fall into her bed. Sometimes he’ll fall asleep next to her, one arm thrown over her stomach, pulling her close.

They have a talk early on. “I’m not in love with you,” he tells her, earnestly, honestly, because he likes her too much to break her heart.

“Thank God,” she says, and that is the end of the talk. He finds that she’s easy to get along with.

---

They’re laying in bed together when she tells him. “I’m pregnant. Don’t know if it’s yours. Probably is, as often as you’re here,” she says, and he feels like all the breath has been knocked out of him. The emotions that sweep through him are dizzying. Elation, because he’s always wanted a family, and fear, because he doesn’t like being tied down even now.

He tells her he’ll claim the child no matter who it looks like, and she gives him a soft smile and a kiss on the cheek before rolling over on top of him.

He leaves the next morning, on another job.

---

There are two rings he keeps at the bottom of his pack. He never got a chance to use them, so he keeps them. It’s a reminder, or maybe it’s a punishment, but he keeps them all the same.

He expects the Divide to be familiar, but it’s heartbreakingly difficult. The last time he’d been here, he’d stood outside the gates and breathed in the ash. He tries not to think about everything he has lost.

---

Deep in the ruins, he finds a house. It is more intact than the rubble around it, with some of the rooms perfectly fine. He remembers this house, remembers waking up in the bed with a girl who laughed like she might never laugh again. It had never been quiet before, but now it is still and silent, and even the howling winds outside are muted.

He walks into the bedroom. It is nearly untouched. There are still pictures in frames on the dresser- one of them is of him, when he was nineteen and stupid. Now, he is twenty-four, and he has never felt so tired before.

He finds a skeleton, underneath a pile of rubble. The clothes she was wearing are tattered and faded, but there’s a bracelet on her wrist, one he remembers giving her.

He stumbles back into the ruins with a howl, a sharp keen of grief rising in his throat.

He realizes then that he had hoped she might have made it out, might have left for some reason.

He thinks he killed her, as sure as if he’d put a gun to her head and pulled the trigger himself.

He stumbles onwards, towards the temple in the distance, towards the end of all of this.

---

Afterwards, when Ulysses is sitting on the canyon ridge, Eli picks his way through the ruins again, until he finds the house. If he closes his eyes, he could pretend that he got caught outside in a sandstorm. They were rare, but they happened, sometimes.

He goes back to the bedroom, pulls the rubble off of the skeleton and sits down beside her.

“I’m gonna be a dad. Again, I guess, but I don’t think you were even showing,” he tells her, it isn’t until he feels tears splash onto his hand that he realizes he is crying.

He can almost feel her standing next to him, one hand on his shoulder, a warm smile on his face. He thinks she might have said: if it is a girl, name her after me, and if it is a boy, hope that he’s more like his father.

Instead, the only thing he can hear is the wind outside, and the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears.

“I’m going to do it right, this time, Mariah,” he promises, and when he leaves he leaves the Divide, leaves Ulysses sitting on the side of cliff, leaves the life he might have had behind.

---

When he steps into the Lucky 38, Benny is laying on a couch, their son on his chest. “His name is Warren,” he tells him, with a tired smile, and Eli chokes out another sob. He walks forward like he’s walking on eggshells, but Benny holds the baby up to him. Eli takes his son in his arms as the child opens his eyes, blinking up at him.

“Hi,” he says, and then he starts to cry.

Later, Arcade will come into the room and walk out with Warren in his arms. Eli doesn’t want to let his son out of his sight, but he’s got something he needs to do and it’s easier without the baby in the way.

“I got something I want to say to you,” he says, and he pulls out a box he’s carried in his bag for the past five years. He kneels on the carpet next to the couch, reaches out to take one of Benny’s hands in his.

“This should be good,” Benny says, voice soft, a faint smile on his face. Eli presses a kiss to the back of his hand and pulls out the rings.

“Will you marry me?” he asks, and he can see the uncertainty shining in Benny’s eyes.

“You gonna leave me again?” he asks, wary, and Eli swallows hard.

“Not like I did. Never again,” he promises, swears, and Benny leans forward and pulls him into a kiss.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think…I think I’d like that,” he says, and Eli slips the ring onto his finger and wraps his arms around him.

---

Eli is still Eli and Benny is still Benny. They argue, don’t fit together perfectly, but Eli is trying harder than he ever has before. It’s not easy, and some days he shuts himself in a spare bedroom and takes so much Jet he feels like he’s never gonna come down from that high. But it’s better than it was. They work together, and when Eli fucks up he tries to apologize.

Warren grows up clinging to Benny’s legs. It isn’t easy to raise a toddler, isn’t easy to run a city, but Benny falls into the roles like he falls into old habits.

It isn’t perfect, not by a long shot. There’s still fights and sleepless nights. But it’s a beginning, and a better one than they thought they’d ever have.

#fallout #fonv #fallout: new vegas #benny gecko #fnv #f:nv #nikolai writes

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tylerwritez · 3 years

Text

Saturday, June 19 2021

I dont know how I feel about the day yet cos right now its only 10:13. I dont post these exactly on the days I write them, but I write them on these exact days nonetheless.

My throat still hurts, my ass hurts, oUch,.... I'm sure you know why. Like, when you suck dick, it takes throat strength to make sure you don't fucking vomit everywhere and like. I OBVIOUSLY dont have that strength since I had to wash vomit outta my hair this morning

Hes so hot tho oh. My god.

Whatever. New day. So we talk about new things.

Star seems kinda sad but I dont really know why? She said on her story that people dont really go outta their way to talk to her... idk. I shot a good morning dm and now I'm here. I made my bed. Packed up my shit. Every time we pack things up my parents rage cos they always find shit they dont want to see: monster cans, evidence of my self harm, etc.

We have 1 more week then school is OVER and I move outta this house cos of the divorce. Jay will be gone too... I still have his insta, but I might ask for his number... just in case. I always get weirdly attached to people I fuck even if there was never any romantic part of the relationship. We are just friends.

Apparently we are going to the pick n pack today with my friend let's call her Zara. It's notfar off from her real name but whatever. Basically pick n pack is where you go to a vegetable garden and pick vegetables

I have a test soon but idk if I'll study for it. I NEVER really put work into studying or pay attention in class and I'm holding an 82 average. I got a 39 once, so once I retake that quiz I might be in the 90s. Sorry Mr. Renal, I simply can't bring myself to care about your class 😢

I LOVE my art class tho. It's just doing ART!!!! ART TIME!!!! Art is the best and I would post some of mine but my irls would proabably find me then. Like my name isnt ACTUALLY Jude Shepard. I'm just using it as a penname and also cos that's what they called me in my dream. But other than that everything I tell y'all is real. I'm making buttered toast rn.

3:38 p.m. sat june 19th

I've decided to include a song recommendation with every entry. Today's recommendation: A Match Into Water by Pierce The Veil

Okay so it turns out we didnt go to pick n pack with Zara. Instead we went to downtown... White Ave. It was sunny n we walked a bit, got lemonades and a bit of candy, went into stores, idk. BUT. The notable part of this is that next to the farmers market there were all the usual activist groups: falun gong, vegan, whatever... but one of them looked like it was a LEFTIST GROUP, possible marxist.

I wanted to talk to them so badly and wanted to see how I could help the cause. See, I'm a communist. AND IM NOT HERE TO DEBATE THAT. I'm here to talk about my days. Anwyays I wanted to talk to them sO BADLY. but my parents wouldn't leave me alone. And like. I hate political discussion with them. They just upset me and they get mad and I CANT AFFORD TO MAKE THEM MAD. I play everything that goes on with me on the Down Low, I dont talk about anything about myself because if I do, I get less freedom in my life. They have control in my life, so I have to appease them. Because of this, I unfortunately did not get to talk to the communists :(

Hopefully they're still there next time... I'm kinda mad >:(

Also Star replied to my good morning text... I told her to have fun shopping since that's what she told me she was gonna do... she just said "thanks" and I was concerned because THATS NOT HOW SHE TYPES? I feel like shes sad over something but i dont know what.

The day me and Jacob did stuff, I was supposed to walk her to her bus stop like I always do. But I didnt (duh) I took Jacob home.

But IT WAS ONE! DAY. And I told her my dad called me over so.... I apologized too and she seemed mad at herself, but in the way that's intended to make you feel bad.

I dont understand her sometimes. I LOVE HER. DON'T GET ME WRONG. I love her so so much shes such a great supportive funny attractive girl! But soemtimes she gets upset and I can never tell why: is it the depression? Is it me? Is it soemthing else entirely? And she'll never tell me.

Whatever, I'll ask her how she is tonight and maybe we can Talk :/

I might never tell her about Jay... :P I might never tell ANYONE about Jay. It's our little secret I guess >:))))))

Man see? I'm no saint. I guess that's what'll make this blog worth reading. I'm a bit conflicted about the whole thing cos I KNOW this is morally not right but. I'm doing it anyways. What can I say? I'm used to lying and hiding things for my benefit. I had to do it to survive and now? Now I do it for funsies.

I'm gonna pack some more stuff, TTYL ♡

UPDATE: we had to go look at houses for the move (since my parents r divorcing) and I didnt get to pack much of anything yet

I'm definently over my cal limit today...

Cold sweet or carbonated drinks help with my throat pain so I'm downing them like they're NOTHING and since we have no zero cal cold drinks I'm DEAD... and no, water does NOTHING.

Jeez, its raining out.

And FUCK JAY cos hes still on my mind.

Its 4:11 p.m. now.

Its now 7:56 p.m.

I kinda feel like an edgy main character in an edgy movie rolling up to the park and sitting #alone in the Treez like the emo band music video protagonist I am.

Sometimes its exhausting to talk to people I care about in a serious way or that I talk to in a more sincere manner like Star and Jay and others. Even if they're just friends. If our interactions are serious and not really casual and usually play out like long deep conversation, I feel like to respond to or even read their messages, I need to have like an hour allotted to conversation. Soemtimes I see the messages early and have to pretend I didnt see em cos I dont have internet to respond or time to respond its. Funny. Idk.

Anwyays I'm binging chocolate in a park alone and like. Rotting my fucking teeth OH WELL 🤷🏻‍♂️ whatcha gonna do.

Its 8 now so I should head home. I just biked to the s4ve 0ns to get my dad white choclate but. If I'm going to s4ve 0ns... YOU BET YOUR ASS IM GONNA STE4L SHIT. THAT PLACE IS EASY AS FUCKKK.

Also I'm kinda addicted to sh0pl1fting. The THRILL I get from it is so insane. It's fun! And you get free stuff! I know If i get caught I'm risking a lot. I'm aware. But I dont really care. Every step I take nowadays is risk taking. So why not take more?

I dont care about nonsense therapy. Fuck that.... actually I'll explain why i dont go to therapy for my shit:

1. I cant

2. I don't trust it

Anwyays yeah.

My throat still hurts. Idk, I just like to be in the sun and shit ALONE.

ALONE! It's so funny to me how now I like my time alone but as a kid I'd proabably kill for some positive attention. Well... it's more complex than that, but I wont go into it tonight.

Pls watch me die of diabetes soon from eating all this fucking chocolate.

My parents said to stop drinking monster and I wANT THEM TO TRUST ME so i can go out with my friends... but also I shoulda got monster outta spite. Heart palpitations my ASS.

Tonight I'll be talking to Jay AND Star. At the same time. Which is awkward... Which is MY OWN MESS TO CLEAN UP. I actually accept full responsibility. But also its awkward.

Whatever. I'll sort it out.

My parents arent being as complicated as usual. I guess they're tryna reverse all those years of... emotional neglect i guess? Something.

Something. Which isnt nothing.

But also I think they're guilty over the divorce. Like. Today my dad was like "do u ever feel sad? Blah blah blah... how do u feel rn" and I was like smiling tryna play off his question like it was absurd and I said "uhm idk... *fake laugh* normal?"

THE TRUTH WAS THAT I WAS A BIT CONFUDDLED ABOUT WHAT I WAS GONNA DO REGARDING. LITERALLY CHEATING. ON MY GF. WITH SOME DUDE IN MY ART CLASS. JUST FOR SEX.

But then he was like "this isnt normal." And he looked all sad. But on my way to the park here, I thought about it a bit more. And actually... it IS normal. The divorce rate is smthn like 60 percent in the states and 40 percent in canada... which is where I live.

Yknow... if my irls find this,,, all I have to say is sorry. Be as mean as you want.

I've already accepted my fate as a degenerate scumbag anyways lol.

Actually... how DO I feel? Hmm... laying in this field.

Urgency.

I have a lot of stuff to do.

Physical pain, but that's not. A FEELING.

I guess anticipation to TALK TO PEOPLE.

Regret from my binge... I better get home.

You know what's so funny to me? I cant purge on my own... but dick makes me vomit. Like the one time I DONT want to throw up, I do. Damn okay.

Well its 8:18 so I'm going home maybe. Soon. For now, I think I'll stay a little longer.

Yknow one thing I didn't expect to be sore was my arms... which I used to prop myself up to... yknow, suck Jay...

I still remember he said: "you're trembling." And I was like FUCK because I thought the trembling was HIM... •_• it's okay though I'll learn to do better.

Idk tho... I feel comfortable with him. Even as nervous as I am and embarrassed to be. Naked. In front of soemone else. And such. He makes me feel comfortable. Look, I did my best, DUH of cOURSE I did my best, I'm the type who will work hard at stuff even if they're getting hurt. I didnt mind honeslty. My goal in that part was just to make him feel good. Equal exchange, yknow? He did the same thing to me.

But like, he can tell when I gag and he tells me not to hurt myself and of course I keep going, I'm not about to SToP. But. I dont kNOW. Him talking to me like that makes me feel a lot safer doing stuff like that you know?

I like when he starts kissing me and touching me like he cant contain himself its almost animalistic and VERY FUCKING HOT

I feel like I talk about him too much but you gotta realize that was my FIRST time

1. Sucking dick

2. having MY junk sucked

3. Having anything put. Inside me. (It was just his finger but stILL)

So yeaH. Of course I'm gonna talk about it. A lot.

He said I was adorable. He said he likes how, when he leans over me, I take in a breath... how he could make me flinch.

THATS HOT ISNT IT.

I feel like I'm getting lost in his charm when I shoULD be tryna fix shit with my girlfriend. She seems sad and I'm worried.

But there isnt much more to say until I DM her tonight...

I really fucked up, didn't I? I totally fucked up and now my brain is all confused. But I have to remember that Jay is only about sex. He would be nice to cuddle, since hes fucking HUGE and I'm kinda on the short side, but he doesnt talk to me out of love. He does it out of lust. And yeah... I really only want sex from him too. But like. Star and I are COMMITTED. We got our feelings wrapped up together. Emotionally and romantically.

So. I should proabably like... stop fucking with Jay. Tell Star what I did. And hope she forgives me. That's the morally correct thing to do.

But like... do I EVER make the morally correct decision? No. Not really. I'm a piece of shit. Whatever. Its highschool anwyays we arent mating for life. IM NOT SAYING WHAT I DID WASNT BAD. IT WAS. VERY BAD.

but I'm gonna keep making bad decisions.

I DO FEEL BAD.... but look. If we're being logical about this and tryna maximize my benefit here,, I should keep Star as my girlfriend and TREAT HER WELL... but with Jay as a fuckbuddy on the side. Hes leaving the school soon anwyays so then we'll hang out less...

That's my plan, anyways.

I KNOW I'm a bad person. I'm aware. But it's just a fact of life.

I'm cheating with my cards here in so many places: stealing, lying, cheating, disobeying my parents, not paying attention in class.. IM KIND OF AN ASSHOLE KID. Idk. It's kinda whatever to me. I'm fucking harry Houdini, okay? I can get out of anyhting. This isnt me being cocky... I have historically gotten out of MANY tight situations, even some that risked my life, and I'm still here. I think I'm a walking lucky charm or SOEMTHING

Welp, we know if gods real I'm going to hell.

I dont really care. Idk. I guess I'm just at that risk taking phase in.my life. That doesnt justify anything... but it explains it. And it's possible to explain without justifying.

Man,,, I guarantee whoever reads this blog is gonna hate my guts.

Whatever. It's my fucking journal/diary lol.

I can sorta say whatever I'd like.

It's funny because I always thought I was trustworthy and had no commitment issues BUT HEY I GUESS NOT.

I keep telling myself, cut him off, YOU AVE A GIRLFRIEND, FESS UP AND APOLOGIZE... but then I picture his STUPID smirking face and I CANT.

Maybe I am in love double.

Doesnt matter if I am... i still did a bad thing.

DAMN.

Well... I'm headed back home now. 8:41. I'm gonna pack my shit, change, watch youtube,,,, I guess I should check my google classroom and like. do my fucking homework... cos I haven't done it yet.

Then I'll update yall.

11:51 p.m.

Hey guys I'm back with an update.

I talked with both of then... star doesnt seem interested in having an actual conversation,,, shes just talking about random bs. Which is fine but I dont rly get what shes saying half the time COS SHES NOT BLUNT ENOUGH. and then the other half shes going on about how much she hates life. Like.

I do love her. We've bonded. I AM concerned about her. But sometimes I feel like she doesn't really try. Like I can talk her down from suicide all I want but everything I say is wrong and cliched and based off my own experience with suicidal thoughts and like... my mentality has always been sorta toxicly masculine. Push through, and push through alone. I CANT ALWAYS HELP! And it makes me feel shitty. Idk. She'll be okay, I know so cos of her story posts and drawings.

I feel bad but I know I can't help much. We talked a little. Idk, we didnt get anywhere. I love her but shes acting in a way that tells me soemthing is wrong but I CANT FIX THAT THING. SO. yeah, theres not much to say. I wish I could take away all her pain but I can't.

I talked to Jay as well... I DONT KNOW WHATS HAPPENING BECAUSE I LIKE HIM SO SO MUCH. SO MUCH. HES LITERALLY PERFECT. sexy, kind and super considerate, he always makes sure I'm comfortable... I dont KNOW,,, hes sweet.

Hes not romantically interested in me. Which is a bit sad. Sometimes I want to tell him "I love you!!!" But then I remember that we are, in his words, friends with benefits. Fuck buddies. Two horny teenage boys who just wanna fuck... and be friends. That's all. That's us. We aren't romantically involved nor will we ever be. I hate how my brain gets so attached to anyone I fuck... especially since I kinda see Jay as an "older brother" figure, which makes no sense until you actually meet him and vibe with him... and like,,, I've always wanted that?

Tommorow I'm gonna ask for him to come over to watch a movie... but idk if I should actually ask because my parents kinda hate me now for fucking up so much. I'll do my homework and clean my room first... which will take up all my time proabably :( it's okay. Maybe some other time :(

I dont want him to lose interest in me though.

.... its 1:56 a.m.

Okay. Okay. I'll say it. I love him.

Goodnight, tumblr.

-Jude

#JudeJournals #jude shepard #tumblr diary #journal

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yoshimickster · 7 years

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RWBY Volume 5 Episode 2 Recap (spoilers)

Wiggety what, what’s that-ITS THE MICKSTERECAP!

1:31 This action packed science fantasy starts out swinging with-A SAD OLD MAN SITTING AT HIS DESK! Edge of my computer table I am.

1:34 ZOOP-its Piccol-I MEAN-Watts, VILLAINY TIME!

1:54 ...okay I know that all schools have secret rooms of secrecy, but that looks WAY too villainous. Watts redecorated didn’t he? You gotta learn when to say NO Leo.

2:08 We are then treated to-THE ORB GRIMM OF MYSTERY! What could it possible do? TURNS OUT...its basically a video phone...huh...makes sense but admittedly disappointing.

2:30 Watts acts like a sassy bitch and-CINDER SPEAKS! HOORAY-now she can insult people again!

3:00 Leo than says that HE found the Spring Maiden but ol’ ARTHUR WATTS( I LOVE that his name is Arthur that rules) gets the credit. Never working for that eldritch witch if I get the option...okay yeah I would, I’m broke as FUCK!

3:34 Oh MAN Cinder’s hate boner for Ruby Rose is STILL GOING STRONG!

3:50 HYOO BOY-the orb latched a tentacle to Leo! We’ve all seen enought hentai to know where THIS is going!

4:48 “Tyrian’s in need of a new tail”...she says that...like he can get ANOTHER ONE?! Hyoo boy, some unlucky scorpion faunus is GIVING A TRANSPLANT!

5:10 We then close out that convo with Watts saying the students AREN’T pushovers. Well ain’t that nice!

5:38 Cinder then argues with her Mom that things are going to slowly-RIGHT-before she says she wants a word with Tyrian. Ooooooooooooooooh, someone’s getting grooooooooooooooooooounded!

6:45 Cut to Weiss still on cargo ship 3-THE FIGHTIN’ TRES-looking over and seeing everyone’s favorite fantasy cliche-FLOATING ROCKS IN THE SKY! Like the Strawberry battlefield up in this bitch.

6:58 ZOOP-scratch that, pilot says their “No-where good”...which means BATTLE TIME BABY!

7:10 CRASHING SKY SHIP-this is my FAVORITE place in Remnant now!

7:34 BUG GRIMM-fuck yes baby! BREAK OUT THE DUST CRYSTALS ITS BATTLE TIME!

7:50 ....well shit, those people are dead. Work faster next time Weiss-GOD!

8:09 Weiss finally states she’s done with this do nothing bull shit, AS IT TURNS OUT-Cargo ship 3 has...a FUCK ton of Dust in it! Atlaaaaaaaaaaaaaaas is smuuuuuuuuuuuuuuggling!

8:22 There’s just something satisfying about loading a sword with bullets, just magical.

8:50 The cargo door is open, BLASTING wind, but thankfully Weiss’s skirt never flips up! Some damn sturdy combat skirts.

9:13 Its at THIS point I just realized something...why doesn’t that ship have built in defenses? You live in a world where MONSTERS not only exists but will also kill you without a moment’s notice.

9:44 AND THEIR HOOKED-holy crap it can’t even take a simple Grimm hook-WHO DESIGNED THIS CARGO SHIP?!

Basically this was the scene in general:

Weiss: I GOT ONE!

Pilot: Great kid, don’t get cocky!

10:51 Geeze Weiss, are you tired? Only been out of the game for a season, DAMN your out of shape.

But enough about that- QUEEN LANCER BOSS BATTLE!

11:20 Oh man its immune to magic-TRY THROWING FURNITURE AT IT!

11:52 Weiss I JUST said it was immune to magic, you wasted all those dust crates for NOTHING! Bad ass explosion, but still.

12:04 Oh shit-THEMATIC SONG ACTION SCENE TIME!

12:20 Ladies and gentlemen, the return of-WEISS’S BAD-ASS WOW LOOKING KNIGHT! Which...she probably should’ve used earlier but FUCK IT-it looks cool!

13:00 Sweet Jesus that was the most insane mid-air battle I’ve ever SEEN and it was awesome! Well time to crash Launchpad McDuck style!

13:30 But enough about whether Weiss and Unnamed Pilot are alive-LET’S SEE WHAT ADAM IS DOING!

13:48 We see Highleader Kahn REALLY chew out Adam for his acts of mass terrorism...but...doesn’t seem like he’s getting fired...what kind of rinky dink terrorist organization are they RUNNING-punish stricter!

15:26 HEY-its Ozpin’s exboyfriend Hazel! How you doing, death voice?

15:36 Kahn: HOW DARE YOU BRING A MAN TO THEMYSCYR-wait wrong series, HOW DARE YOU BRING A HUMAN TO MENAGERIE!

16:23 Lady wants humanity to fear the Faunus, but doesn’t want to start a war...you....you really don’t think realistically do you?

17:00 We WILL win against the humans, because mutan-I MEAN Faunus are the dominant species!

18:00 All and all this seems like a pretty standard meeting-OH SHIT-all the White fang in the room are loyal to Adam! Well I’m sure things are gonna turn out fine, every organization benefits from a strong female leade-OH SHIT-Adam just killed her!

18:50 Adam acting like the psycho he is uses the corpse he just made to further his own agenda...this got dark. Like, RIDICULOUSLY darker than we thought this series could dark.

Also NOT to speak ill of the dead but...MAYBE she should’ve just fired him? She and Ozpin share that classic “Let a threat sit in the background and wait until it kills you” style of leadership.

19:10 Hazel: When were you planning on telling me about that?

Yeah Adam, you gotta SHARE your murderous plans, you can’t just SPRING a murder when you invite someone to the vaguely Asian inspired faunus castle! Unit cohesion is key.

19:32 Hazel: Nobody needed to die today.

Okay dude,dude, DUDE...you WORK for MALEFICENT! Don’t get bent out over a little murder!

19:48 We then see Weiss wake up from the crash and see everything’s fin-OH SHIT RAVEN...wait, your telling me WEISS found Yang’s mom before Yang?!

All in all good action based ep, and I can’t wait to see Adam lead the Brotherhood of Evil Faunus against the forces of the...X...faunus? Shoulda stopped at the Magneto joke-GRAH-what is wrong with me?! See ya next week folks!

#rwby #rwby volume 5 #weiss schnee #weiss #adam taurus #arthur watts #leonardo lionheart #salem #raven branwen #cinder fall #rooster teeth #roosterteeth #recap #micksterecaps #yoshimickster #rooster teeth first

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f4liveblogarchives · 3 years

Text

Fantastic Four Vol 1 #224

Thu Apr 29 2020 [09:11 PM] Bocaj: The luckiest number of all [09:11 PM] Wack'd: knew i shoulda gotten 'spacegods' trademarked

[09:11 PM] maxwellelvis: That's an awesome title [09:11 PM] Wack'd: It's not the actual title it's just the cover copy [09:11 PM] Aleph Null: golden age vibes [09:12 PM] Umbramatic: wack'd, eddy voice: "i hate space gods" [09:12 PM] Wack'd: The actual title is "The Darkfield Illumination", which sounds like a Quatermass knockoff [09:12 PM] Bocaj: Or a really cool band [09:12 PM] maxwellelvis: Or one of those unseen Time War things Russel T. Davies loved putting in his scripts. [09:14 PM] Wack'd:

Doug: Hey, Bill, you can draw, like, animals, right? Lions and monkeys and stuff? Bill: *breaks into a cold sweat* Uh yeah sure

[09:15 PM] maxwellelvis: Why do I get the feeling he modeled for the lion, too? [09:15 PM] Bocaj: Not enough ass [09:16 PM] Wack'd: Oh fuck, is this terrigen? I guess maybe those are...inlions? Inmonkeys?

[09:19 PM] Wack'd: I guess at this point Moon Knight is still appropriate for kids? Also I feel like whoever's poster is riddled with darts is someone I should know...

[09:20 PM] maxwellelvis: It might be a self-portrait? [09:23 PM] Wack'd: Can't find any photos of him looking like that, but I did find a lot of his modern art, and I got to say if you get a chance look him up. Dude's come a long way from "competent comic penciler by 70s standards". Not gonna get off-track by posting a bunch of it but I do have to share his Into the Spider-Verse poster [09:24 PM] maxwellelvis: Bocaj could attest to that. [09:24 PM] Bocaj: Nice [09:24 PM] maxwellelvis: Dude penciled "Demon Bear!" [09:24 PM] Bocaj: Yes [09:24 PM] maxwellelvis: Also, noice [09:25 PM] Wack'd: This doesn't really seem like the most efficient way to collect gas, but what do I know, Reed's the scientist

[09:27 PM] Wack'd: Anyway, the Four's powers all start malfunctioning, which given their current activities nearly kills Johnny. Ben is thrilled to find he's developing some fleshy patches where his rocks should be. [09:29 PM] Wack'd: "Elsewhere", some viking-looking dudes are upset their god is dying, and think it's "some treachery from the outside world." [09:30 PM] Aleph Null: they got corona [09:31 PM] Wack'd: The Four take a trip to the North Pole, because the Fortress of Animalitude has been linked to the gas, somehow. [09:32 PM] maxwellelvis: I think we can safely say that Doug Moench has come a long way as well, from this kind of plotting. [09:32 PM] Wack'd: Johnny decides to explore on his own and then naturally his flame dies. And then he's captured by vikings. [09:32 PM] Aleph Null: ...is johnny storm a himbo [09:32 PM] Wack'd: Mad Max vikings, I guess.

[09:33 PM] Umbramatic: this is not jhonny's day [09:33 PM] Bocaj: Mad Maxings [09:33 PM] Wack'd: How do they know that's Johnny? He didn't even bother to make it 4-shaped!

[09:34 PM] Bocaj: Looks like the on off symbol [09:34 PM] Aleph Null: 🎵 “johnny johnny” “yes papa” “getting kidnapped” “no papa” “sending flares” “yes papa”🎵/deadmemes [09:35 PM] Wack'd: Some real Mark Trail pull focus in this first panel--obviously those flowers are much more important than the characters. Also: important viking political drama.

[09:36 PM] Wack'd: Also typing it out I just realized Mark Trail's name is a pun and now I'm angry. [09:36 PM] Umbramatic: ...fuck [09:37 PM] maxwellelvis: Hrolf reminds me of a lot of guest characters on Doctor Who; they tend to either get killed by their evil boss, or take his job after he dies. [09:38 PM] Wack'd: That argument is basically entirely there to set up Wiglif and Hrolf's beef because before any patrolling can get done the Four arrive to rescue Johnny. Fight fight fight [09:39 PM] Wack'd: It's probably been too long between issues for me to say that's for sure, but I feel fairly certain that this is the first time we've seen Sue Looney Tunes someone and I don't know why it doesn't happen more often.

[09:40 PM] Wack'd: Eugh

[09:42 PM] Wack'd: So Reed realizes fighting with their powers like this could get them killed and decides to surrender. [09:43 PM] Aleph Null: @Wack'd boy that’s an unpleasant looking halfway stage! [09:43 PM] maxwellelvis: Yup [09:43 PM] Wack'd: I guess this is, like, a Savage Land for vikings?

[09:44 PM] maxwellelvis: This is the sort of set-up I'd love to see the Doctor in. [09:45 PM] maxwellelvis: They'd just be all over the place looking at everything, probably seemingly just fooling around but spreading the seeds for the climax, y'know, Doctor stuff [09:46 PM] Wack'd: So! The Four meet Korgon, the Blind God of Fire! He shoots eye beams that create the energy that allows this place to run. But he's getting old so his eye beams malfunctions and the energy they produce leaked across the globe. So. Hence the mist. [09:46 PM] maxwellelvis: That's not good. [09:47 PM] Wack'd: I feel like whatever Korgon says next is gonna give Reed an actual hear attack

[09:47 PM] Bocaj: I love how all over the place comics can be [09:47 PM] Bocaj: Wait is that Old Man Cyclops [09:48 PM] Umbramatic: "how's this, Squidward? I made it with my tears." [09:48 PM] maxwellelvis: Can't be, his eye beams produce heat. [09:48 PM] Bocaj: Some of the times [09:48 PM] maxwellelvis: Cyclops' only shoot out pure kinetic force. [09:48 PM] maxwellelvis: Havok brings the heat. [09:48 PM] Wack'd: Punches from the punch dimension, yes. [09:48 PM] Bocaj: Sometimes cyclops’ are heat based. He used to be solar powered [09:49 PM] maxwellelvis: He's still solar-powered I thought. It just turns into kinetic energy rather than heat for some reason. [09:49 PM] Wack'd: So! Once upon a time, Korgon was a lowly villager in a viking kingdom who fell in love with a princess. They ran away from home together to elope. [09:50 PM] Wack'd: Then an explosion happened. [09:50 PM] Bocaj: As ya do [09:50 PM] Wack'd: "But why?" "It sounds cool."

[09:51 PM] Bocaj: It does [09:52 PM] Wack'd: Reed compares it to the Tunguska Explosion for some reason. I guess between that, greenhouse gases, heart attacks...Moench is just very invested in grounding this in some kind of reality. [09:52 PM] Wack'd: I wish I knew if he was doing a good job. [09:52 PM] Aleph Null: there’s a hidden viking kingdom [09:53 PM] Bocaj: Is this lost vikings [09:53 PM] maxwellelvis: Did this event leave behind a crater, @Wack'd ? [09:53 PM] Wack'd: We are not told [09:53 PM] maxwellelvis: If it did, then it ain't like Tunguska, Reed. [09:53 PM] Wack'd: I'm guessing he didn't crawl towards the explosion to check! [09:53 PM] Bocaj: Coward [09:54 PM] maxwellelvis: That's the weirdest thing about the Tunguska event; no crater, so whatever it was, it wasn't a meteor impact. [09:55 PM] Wack'd: Anyway, Korgon tries to carry his love back home, but she doesn't survive. He's spared blame for her death because he's blind and they feel sorry for him, but then his eyes start glowing and he gets banished. [09:55 PM] maxwellelvis: So it either burst in the air or it wasn't a meteor. [09:56 PM] Wack'd: He's told he'd been "struck down by the gods as punishment for his forbidden love". [09:57 PM] Bocaj: Those who the gods wish to destroy they first give glowing eyes [09:58 PM] Wack'd: He walks the Earth, find folks who've never heard of his kingdom, and they follow him as a god. Then he uses his laser eyes to make an ice fortress. [09:58 PM] Wack'd: The zoo animals and motorbikes and bed surrounded by TVs came later, I guess? None of that is explained [09:59 PM] Wack'd: I guess sometimes the Vikings leave their ice fortress to go shopping and get exotic pets and just nobody questions it [09:59 PM] Wack'd: In fairness, this Earth has far weirder things than North Pole Vikings [10:00 PM] Bocaj: Yeah [10:01 PM] Umbramatic: way weirder [10:01 PM] Wack'd: God I hope someday these comics get better at talking about disability

[10:02 PM] Bocaj: 😬 [10:02 PM] Wack'd: Anyway, we cliffhanger on Korgon telling our heroes that they have to Fix him or be put to death, which I'm sure we all saw coming [10:02 PM] Bocaj: Nobody ever says please [10:03 PM] Wack'd: Wonder what his plan was if the Four never decided to investigate. Just die, I guess [10:03 PM] Bocaj: Do they have memes in lost Vikings savage land? [10:03 PM] Wack'd: I can't tell if they're supposed to be futuristic or just up-to-date for 1980 [10:04 PM] maxwellelvis: The bikes look futuristic [10:04 PM] Wack'd: Oh, also the end of issue text promises we are getting a very special guest star [10:04 PM] Wack'd: Three guesses and the first two don't count [10:05 PM] Bocaj: Tigra [10:05 PM] maxwellelvis: Gabriel [10:05 PM] Wack'd: ...Thor [10:05 PM] Wack'd: It's vikings guys c'mon [10:05 PM] Bocaj: I would not have guessed

#1980 #Doug Moench #Bill Sienkiewicz #The Main Book

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