#definitely need to work on drawing dave more damn he looks weird here

[sparky-sideblog]

I had zero reason but it’s all I could imagine happening...

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: This isn’t a rom-com 8/17

Author’s note: Here we go people. I finally have a total of chapters for this and we’re just a little over half of this fic. I hope you’re all enjoying it and as always, feedback is greatly appreciated.

Wordcount: 3015

Warnings: some cursing; mentions and depiction of alcohol, drugs and inebriation.

Part 1 Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7

As Thursday approached, Keanu felt a mix of excitement and anxiety. It felt like this thing with Lilah had reached a breaking point where they would finally get some kind of definition. And maybe that was for the best because Keanu couldn’t deal with not knowing where he stood anymore. Every time he thought he knew what was going on between them, something would happen to throw him in a loop.

He had been so sure at first that Lilah didn’t see him as more than a friend, but all their conversations for the last couple of weeks had turned too flirty for Keanu to ignore. He knew he was partially responsible because he couldn’t help himself, but Lilah had started to respond to it more and more. And that kiss goodbye the other day? Dangerously close to his own lips. And after she had just paraded in front of him in only a towel? There wasn’t something you did when you were ‘just friends’ with someone.

Sure, Keanu knew she didn’t walk in front of him in a towel on purpose. The way she deliberately kept her gaze away from him as she pretty much dashed from the bathroom to her room told him as much, but it had been hard to ignore.

Keanu tried his best not to look, respect her privacy, but he was only human, and she took him by surprise. So he did get a very good look at all that gorgeous skin, still flushed from the shower and the way the towel barely covered her ass, before he could force himself to look away, his jeans suddenly a little tighter than before.

If only his problem was the physical attraction he felt towards him, Keanu would have been a happy man. Because he could deal with that and push it aside. Being actually in love with her was a lot harder to ignore. And if he was being completely honest with himself, Keanu wasn’t so sure if he wanted to. Even if ignoring it was probably the wise thing to do.

For a while now Keanu had played safe when it came to his personal life. A stark contrast to the man he had been in his twenties and early thirties. Back then, he had been a very impulsive guy. He saw something or someone he liked, and he would go after it and damn all the consequences.

Keanu still did that for his professional life. Picked projects that his agent advised against for being weird or outside the genre he was better known for and that didn’t really help his career. But Keanu would still do it just because he could. He hadn’t really done the same for his personal life in a while though and he had been mostly alright with that.

Sure, every once in awhile, it felt like something was missing, but Keanu had become quite good at turning a blind eye to it because he knew the moment he opened his heart to someone disaster would follow.

And maybe he was being irrational, but after everything he went through, Keanu really believed that it was wiser to tread carefully in the romantic aspect of his life. Keep his relationships short and light so no one could get hurt.

This really was the first time in a long time that he didn’t want to that. He didn’t want to ignore the ever-growing feeling in his chest; to push it aside and forget about i. Because Keanu was happy. Really happy. He was working on a project he loved, and he was spending time with someone that he really… And maybe it was a bad idea, but he wanted this so much that he was willing to be impulsive and reckless again. Just this once.

“You should tell her,�� Kim declared after Keanu told her everything.

He had managed to avoid this conversation for a few days, but Kim had a way of catching him off guard and he ended up spilling his guts. There was a reason why she was his best friend after all.

“Kim…” Keanu trailed off with a sigh, because what excuse did he actually have not to do it at this point? “What if she’s not interested?”

“Then you’ll know and can move on. Either way, you have to know.”

Keanu rubbed his face, leaning his head back against the couch. He was still on his costume, even if they had wrapped up shooting for the day. He should be taking the suit back to Luca and heading out to meet Lilah, but he was hesitating, a little terrified of how this was going to go. But Kim was right. He needed to know.

“I gotta go.”

“Call me tomorrow. I want to know how it went.”

Keanu agreed before hanging up and finally going through the motions of showering and changing into his own clothes before heading out, running into Chad and Dave in the parking lot.

“Hey, we’re off to get a drink and discuss a few scenes. You’re up for it?” Dave invited.

“I can’t,” Keanu admitted with an embarrassed wince. “I-uh have a thing.”

Chad narrowed his eyes at him, lips drawing into a smirk.

“Does this ‘thing’ involve Lilah?” he asked, and Keanu could feel his nape getting warm. So were the tip of his ears. Chad snorted. “I fucking knew it! Where are you taking her?”

“I’m lost. Who’s Lilah?” Dave asked, looking from Chad to Keanu.

“This girl he’s being seeing,” Chad said before Keanu could even think about speaking. “Never wondered why he keeps grinning like an idiot every time his phone rings?”

“I don’t…” Keanu trailed off with a headshake because it was pointless to argue with Chad sometimes. Dave flashed a wide, knowing smile.

“Then have fun,” he said, walking backward toward their car. “Just don’t tire yourself out, ok? We need you in one-piece tomorrow morning bright and early.”

“Fuck you!” Keanu called out with a smile that was half-embarrassed, half-amused as he put on his helmet and took off for Brooklyn.

Keanu had never seen Novelsy this packed with some many people dressed in so many outrageous costumes, but from what Lilah had shared about the financial troubles the bookstore had been experiencing, this was probably a good sign.

It still made him uncomfortable because he really didn’t want to be recognized so he pushed his sunglasses up his nose, keeping his head down as he moved through the familiar aisles, searching for a glimpse of Lilah, but he hand no idea what she looked like since she didn’t really tell what her costume was.

He spotted Jean first, dressed in a regal medieval dress, her dark hair falling in elegant curls around her shoulders, her green eyes sparkled when she saw him, lips twisting into a smirk.

“What? No costume?”

“I’m dressed as a tired actor,” he joked, and she snorted. “Is Lilah here?”

“Yes.” There was a long pause and Keanu realized Jean wasn’t about to tell him where. “You’ll understand.” It was all she said before she took off to help a customer.

Keanu pulled out his phone and called Lilah, but the call was ignored and a second later he got a text with a photo, the cover of Romeo and Juliet. Grinning, Keanu headed down to classics, where he knew he would find the book. As soon as he reached the right aisle, his phone beeped again with a second picture. This time it was Scanner Darkly.

As he headed for the sci-fi and fantasy aisle he realized he was heading deeper into the bookstore and away from the rest of the public. Once again, as soon as he arrived at the right place, a new message arrived. This time it was a picture of The Shining.

He wasn’t sure if there was a horror section in Novelsy so that one took him a while longer to figure out, but he finally found it all the way in the back and there was where Lilah stood in a red overcoat, a yellow scarf around her neck and a red fedora hat.

“Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego?” he asked with a grin, moving closer to her and Lilah looked up with a wide smile and a faint color on her cheeks.

“Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”

“Don’t worry,” he said still towering over her despite her heels and Lilah had to tilt her face up to look at him. “I don’t mind chasing you.”

There was so much meaning behind those words and Keanu could see the way her eyes widened in surprise before Lilah drew in a deep breath and stepped even closer, her hand resting on his chest.

“But you caught me,” she whispered, her eyes bright and open and maybe a little hesitant but Keanu had no doubt what he was seeing on them. “So now what?”

Keanu caught her lips in a kiss. It was soft and slow and tentative. Just lips pressed together, but damn if it didn’t feel good. Her hand moved to his hair, fingers scratching his scalp gently and he sighed against her lips. He felt her smile before she tilted her head a little for a better angle, her fedora falling off, but neither of them cared.

Lilah pressed her tongue against his lips and Keanu parted them for her, letting her explore his mouth, enjoying how she tasted sweet and minty, before pushing forward too and she sighed contently against his mouth. His hands found their way to her back, pulling Lilah to him until their bodies were flushed together as the kiss turned a little more heated. As Keanu nipped teasingly on her bottom lip Lilah groaned softly, her grip on his hair tightening a little and he grunted, feeling arousal burning on the pit of his stomach.

They were so lost in themselves that the sound of someone clearing their throat made them jump apart like naughty children caught doing something wrong. Keanu glanced at the man standing there watching them both with a raised eyebrow and a barely contained smirk. Panic overtook Keanu for a second before he recognized Isaac under the heavy makeup, wig, and tight black corset.

“Unless you two want to be on the front page of every tabloid and gossip site in this city, maybe move this upstairs?” he asked, his gaze shifting from Lilah to Keanu.

Keanu glanced at her, noticing her swollen lips and the flush in her cheeks and he could only imagine how he must look like. They were lucky it was Isaac that caught him and not someone else.

Before they could reply, Isaac took off again leaving them behind to share a guilty look before laughter erupted from them.  Lilah covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes glowing with mirth and affection and Keanu didn’t think he had felt this happy in a long time.

“Maybe we should follow his advice,” Keanu said grinning and pulling her into his arms. Lilah wrapped hers around his neck but let out a small resigned sigh.

“I’d love to but I promised Jean I’d help out today.” She looked up at him through her lashes and it was the kind of gaze that promised so many unspeakable things and made Keanu want to have her against the nearest surface. “To be continued later?”

“Yes,” he agreed, stealing another hungry kiss before he stepped away from her keeping his back turned because he couldn’t be trusted to keep his hands to himself if he was looking at her.

To his frustration, later seemed didn’t seem to be coming anytime soon. At first, Lilah was busy helping customers and managing the costume contest with Jean. When that was finally over and Keanu thought they could head back to her apartment, Lilah reminded him of the Rocky Horror Picture Show singalong he agreed to go with her.

So instead of being alone with her like he really wanted Keanu was stuck in a bar in Brooklyn with bad lighting, peeling wallpaper, too-loud pop music and a crowd that was dangerously close to indecent exposure with their costumes.

He retreated to a table in the back as soon as they arrived, but he still had a good view of the stage and the main area of the bar as he nursed his beer and watched as people gathered in the dance floor, grinding against each other to music with too much autotune. For a moment he felt so damn old and wondered what the hell he was doing there. Then Lilah slid on the booth next to him, out of breath, cheeks flushed from alcohol and dancing and a bright, wide smile that he couldn’t help but return.

“They’re setting everything up,” she announced, voice a little slurred as she stole his beer and took a sip. “It’s gonna be terrible.”

“And that’s good?” he asked with a frown and Lilah giggled and nodded.

“For this terrible is the best.”

She settled a little more comfortably, pulling his arm around her shoulders, her back pressed against his side and Keanu smiled, kissing the top of her head. It was almost as if their kiss had lifted that unspoken barrier that existed between them until then and now Lilah felt comfortable with touching and hugging him all she wanted. Keanu had to admit he liked that very much.

When the singalong finally started, Keanu began to understand why terrible was great. He could tell everyone was wasted or high or both. They stumbled over the words and dance steps but just didn’t care. He found himself laughing and cringing along with Lilah as she sang to herself very offkey.

When the first notes of Time Warp started, she jumped to her feet and joined the group, dancing as uncoordinated as everyone else, but for some reason, it looked completely adorable to him the way Lilah moved completely off-beat regardless of Jean’s attempts of getting her into the right rhythm.

She stayed through I Can Make You a Man and Hot Patootie, but seemed ready to return to the table when Touch-a Touch-a, Touch Me started, but Jean caught her by the hand, pulling Lilah back and closer.

They sang and danced together, Lilah’s back pressed against Jean’s chest, as the pair ground together, Jean’s hands sliding down Lilah’s waist and hips, guiding her movement. It was intimate and sensuous, and Keanu felt suddenly out of breath, the room way too hot for his comfort.

He headed to the back exit, needing a moment to collect himself. Leaning against the wall of the alley he lit a cigarette, closed his eyes and breathed out shakily, trying will his arousal away, but the sight of Lilah was still seared into his brain. A moment later he heard the door creaking and when he turned his head to look, there was Lilah.

“You’re ok?” she asked. Even in the dim light of the alley, he could see her flushed cheeks and sweaty skin making her hair stick to her neck

“Yeah, just…” he showed her his cigarette and Lilah nodded, moving closer with unsteady steps. “How about you?”

“Just a little too hot,” she replied, gathering her hair up and exposing her nape to the cool night air.

Keanu pulled her closer to him so he could bend his head and blow on her heated skin, making Lilah shudder and giggle. She looked up at him, eyes hooded, bottom lip caught between her teeth as she gave him a heated look. Before his reasonable side could talk him out of it, Keanu kissed her.

He could feel Lilah grinning as he pressed into her mouth, tasting alcohol and lime in her tongue. Her hands came up his back, under his shirt, raking her nails up his spine and making him groan. All Keanu wanted was get lost in this, but his publicist would kill him if he was caught making out on a dark alley like he was back in his twenties.

Besides, Keanu wanted Lilah completely sober when they had sex so she could enjoy every second of it. He pulled back, chuckling when she tried to chase his lips.

“Let’s get you home,” he said and Lilah grinned wide.

“Good idea.”

“To sleep, Lilah,” he said, grinning at her pout. “You’re too drunk for this, sweetheart.”

She was still pouting when Keanu led the way back into the bar so he could gather their things and pay the tab, before leading her out again, through the main doors this time and hailed a cab. Her apartment was just a ten-minute walk, but between the heels and her inebriation, Keanu didn’t think it was wise to let Lilah walk.

As soon as she was on the backseat of the car, Lilah cuddled against his side, face buried on his chest as she mumbled something in Portuguese that he didn’t understand. Keanu chuckled affectionately at how clingy she was while drunk, hugging her close until the taxi pulled up in front of Novelsy.

Keanu carried her up the stairs and into the apartment and bedroom, not wanting to wake her up when she looked so peaceful. She didn’t even stir when he dropped her on the bed very ungracefully or when he took off her shoes and helped her out of the overcoat and scarf. He had no idea what had happened to her hat.

Lilah only showed signs of consciousness when he pressed a kiss on her forehead as he was getting ready to leave. She caught his hand, making Keanu pause and look at her.

“Stay,” she mumbled, her eyes barely open.

Keanu only hesitated for a second before he kicked off his boots, took off his wallet, phone and keys putting them on the bedside table and climbed in bed with Lilah. She shifted towards him, once again cuddling his side and mumbling those same words she said on the cab, making Keanu wonder that they might mean.

tbc

Go to part 9

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[waitineedaname]

sofa smooches

me @ myself: pleas work on your other wips I’m begging you

my hell brain: hhhhhh soft davekat kisses

also on ao3

Like most days on the meteor, Dave and Karkat were spending the evening on the couch in the TV room. The shitty rom-com Karkat had picked out had long since ended; they’d watched all the way through the credits, like they always did, no matter how many times Dave told him there wasn’t going to be anything new at the end, like watching it for the seventeenth time would somehow unlock a secret ending where those background characters do end up together and go on their own cliched adventure. But. Karkat was stubborn and insistent, as always.

It was kinda cute.

It was not the first time that thought had occurred to Dave, but it had yet to be less startling.

Dave put his phone down, having beat Peggle for the twentieth time, and looked up at Karkat from where he was draped across his lap. He’d laid himself there about a third of the way through the movie, and Karkat hadn’t complained. In fact, neither of them seemed to want to be the one to disturb the little cuddle sesh, and they’d silently agreed to occupy themselves with whatever wouldn’t disturb the other. Hence, Dave’s Peggle endeavors and Karkat’s shitty romance novel. He was holding it with one hand, propping it up on Dave’s legs, because his other hand was resting on top of Dave’s free hand, only lifting away to turn a page every now and then, always returning to gently curl around Dave’s hand. Sometimes he’d absentmindedly rub his thumb along Dave’s knuckles, drawing circles and tracing the scars and freckles that littered his skin, and it. It was nice.

Dave wasn’t sure if he was in the right headspace to think about how touchstarved they both were, or how just those little comforting brushes of affection seemed to comfort an ache in his soul he’d never really paid attention to, or how Karkat’s touches when they cuddled like this were so much more gentle than he ever expected from someone who yelled himself hoarse and threatened bodily harm on the daily.

Dave didn’t think about any of that. He just thought about how nice it was to have his hand held, and how the perpetual pinch in Karkat’s brow was softer from this angle, and how he really wanted to kiss him.

Huh. That was a thought.

“Hey.”

Karkat ignored him.

“Hey.” Dave snapped his fingers in front of his face to get his attention.

Karkat smacked his hand away and turned the page.

“Hey.” Dave reached back up and flicked Karkat’s nose. Karkat, predictably, overreacted and reeled back, his whole face scrunching up.

“Ow! Fucker!” He yelled, covering his nose.

“Oh, come on. That did not hurt.”

“Fuck you! Maybe it did! You don’t know, maybe trolls have especially weak noses! For all you know, that could’ve been a built in insta-kill button! You could’ve killed me, Dave, and then how the fuck would you feel?”

“Pretty shitty, but then I’d let your ghost punch me in the face in the next dream bubble we fly through, so we’d be even.”

“What the fuck ever, you wish I’d punch your stupid face.” Karkat rolled his eyes, but he closed his book so Dave counted that as a win for Strider. “What was so important that you had to almost kill me anyway?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“What?”

“Can I kiss you?” Karkat blinked down at him blankly and well shit, that’s all Dave needed to take off on the rambling train, next stop: off the rails and straight into embarrassment territory. “Forget it, I could totally be misreading this whole cuddle thing, for all I know this might be a normal thing in troll culture, just snuggling between bros, like I could maybe expect it with your whole moirail thing except I’m pretty sure we’re not moirails? I’d probably know if that was what was happening-”

“Yeah, you can kiss me.”

“-especially since I don’t think either of us are like keeping the other from succumbing to homicidal tendencies or whatever because you can do whatever the fuck you want and I’m just chilling-” Dave paused mid-tangent, suddenly processing what Karkat had just said. “Wait. What’d you say?”

“I said you could kiss me, dumbass.”

“Oh. Cool. Great.” Dave found himself frozen for a second, realizing all that meant, and he slowly sat up, sliding off Karkat’s lap and turning to face him. This close, he could see Karkat swallow thickly, and he realized this was just as big of a deal for Karkat as it was for him.

Okay. He could do this.

Dave put his hand on Karkat’s cheek because that seemed like the right thing to do, and before he could second guess himself again, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Karkat’s.

It was really nice. It was clear they both didn’t really know what they were doing - they’d spent most of puberty on a meteor with the same tiny group of people, of course they were inexperienced - but it was still nice. The feeling of Karkat’s weirdly warm lips against his, the feeling of sharp teeth pressed up just behind them when they parted the slightest bit.

It didn’t last very long. Probably just a few seconds, but it felt like forever. Dammit, he was a god of time or whatever, he should probably have a better grasp of its passage, but Karkat seemed to knock out what little sense he had in the first place.

To be perfectly fair, Karkat seemed just as dazed as he did. When Dave finally pulled away, he curled his fingers into Dave’s sleeve to keep him from going too far and hey, when’d his hand end up on his upper arm? Not like Dave was complaining.

They both stared at each other for a second, two annoyingly talkative people on most days suddenly stunned silent.

“Thanks.” Dave finally said, and Karkat snorted, the moment broken.

“Thanks? Do you thank everyone you kiss, just to make up for having to deal with your stink breath?” There wasn’t any bite to the insult since they were definitely still close enough for Karkat to be smelling his supposedly stinky breath, and he didn’t seem to plan on moving away any time soon.

“Yep. Just a courtesy. You know how goddamn polite I am, got etiquette seeping out my damn pores. Gonna get pimples that’re sayin’ please and thank you with how clogged my pores are with all these manners.” He leaned in and bonked their foreheads together gently. Karkat looked like he was having a very hard time not snickering.

“Right. Maybe it’s your human etiquette that’s stinking the place up since you’re apparently drenched in it.”

“Oh, yeah. Good manners are notoriously noxious. They have to wear gas masks in Canada because of the permanent politeness stink.”

“You should know by now I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.” Karkat let go of his arm to tuck a piece of blond hair behind Dave’s ear and the gesture was so soft that Dave’s heart almost stopped. He definitely didn’t lean into the touch a little bit. Nope. Not at all. Shut up and mind your business.

“So. My lips as impudent as you thought?” Dave said to distract himself from how fluttery he was feeling. Karkat gave him a blank look, then grimaced as he suddenly remembered.

“Oh my fucking god. You cannot still remember that.”

“Of course I fucking remember that. You were hitting on me and John at the same damn time. You hadn’t even met us yet. Horny idiot.” Dave said, accenting his point by poking one of Karkat’s nubby horns.

“Shut up! I still think it’s offensive that humans use that phrase like that.”

“What, horny? Dude, we started using that word way before y’all ever even appeared on our radar.”

“I’m not convinced.”

“You think I’d invent an expression just to poke fun at you? Wait, don’t answer that, I definitely would.”

“Exactly. Dick.” Karkat huffed, then took Dave by surprise by leaning in to kiss him again. They shared a few more gentle kisses, a couple of them ruined by smiles from either of them and what was definitely not a giggle or two, and then Karkat lifted his head a bit to press a tiny kiss to the tip of Dave’s nose. Dave was pretty sure he was gonna explode from the tenderness. Pirouette off the fucking handle or whatever but in the best possible way. Here lies Dave Strider, he died because his alien boyfriend was too damn soft.

Wait.

“Hey, are we boyfriends?”

“You mean matesprits?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“I dunno.” Karkat worried his lip with one of his fangs. “Do you wanna be?”

“I dunno.” Dave said, unintentionally parroting him. “Maybe? I-. I wouldn’t be opposed. To being matesprit-boyfriends. Maybe we can try it out for a while, see if we’re both down to clown- wait, bad choice of words, hopefully no clowns will be involved.”

“Yeah, that might get fucking weird.”

“Definitely. If you somehow become a clown, that ‘maybe’ will immediately turn into a no.”

“If I turn into a clown, you have my explicit permission to kill me instantly.”

“Punch the kill-button on the nose, right?” Dave said, brushing their noses together.

“Exactly. I’m trusting you with the secret to killing trolls, use it wisely.”

“I promise to only use my knowledge to put an end to my clown boyfriend’s horrible hypothetical existence.”

“You’re so dumb.” Karkat mumbled, tone full of affection, and he tucked his face into Dave’s neck.

They stayed there for a while, hours maybe, rambling and teasing each other. It really wasn’t very different from how they normally spent their time except they were a tangled mess of limbs and half on each other’s laps, cutting off particularly pointless rambles with kisses and effectively changing the subject completely.

Dave knew there were definitely things to worry about, things he’d have to deal with eventually, but with an armful of happy troll kissing him, he couldn’t be any happier.

[ganzeer-reviews]

THE BEST OF MILLIGAN & MCCARTHY By Peter Milligan and Brendan McCarthy o-o-o-c

Madness. Sheer and utter madness.

I must admit that before MAD MAX: FURY ROAD, I hadn't even heard of Brendan McCarthy, which is a damn inexcusable shame. But to be fair, the work of Milligan & McCarthy hasn’t really been part of the dialogue in comix culture. Not even when it comes to talking about the impactful indie work that fell outside of the mainstream; you never hear their work cited alongside that of Frank Miller's SIN CITY (which, before the 2005 film release was only really known in pretty small circles throughout the 1990's) or Eddie Campbell's ALEC or Dave Sim's CEREBUS. But that silence is in no way reflective of the duo's influence.

About a year ago, I listened to an interview with Neil Gaiman for the British Library podcast focused primarily on the RAMAYANA and Gaiman's involvement in adapting it for DreamWorks. When asked if he had a particular style in mind when working on the various [never-produced] treatments, Gaiman was quick to point out Brendan McCarthy's work on ROGAN GOSH, which Gaiman describes as being birthed from Brendan's "Road to Damascus moment, where he ran into a pile of comics in India, and just went 'I love this, there's art stuff here that I've never seen in the West,' and started doing stuff and playing with it." He also goes on to describe ROGAN GOSH as "one of the most interesting moments of fusion between Indian and British and American comix culture."

Naturally, I immediately looked into getting my hands on some ROGAN GOSH and discovered that it was reprinted in the pages of an over-sized hardcover titled THE BEST OF MILLIGAN & MCCARTHY published by Dark Horse Books in 2013 and retailing for only $24.99 (down to $7.19 as I type this). Although a horrendously produced edition (pages are actually falling out in less than a year since purchasing it), I'm still happy to have gotten my hands on it because it has been blowing my mind ever since. Not least because of the work itself, but because it simultaneously exposes a very vital almost secret history of comix lost to... I dunno,an obsession with the founding of Image Comics and the less than negligible work its founders produced? If there was ever a demented, revolutionary punk rock duo in comix, Milligan & McCarthy definitely fit the bill.

ROGAN GOSH first appeared in REVOLVER, a short-lived anthology magazine for mature readers published in the UK between 1990-1991. GOSH was finally collected by DC Comics/Vertigo into a 48-page one shot in 1994. It is perhaps because of the book's modest page-count that it is never mentioned in the same breath as say THE SANDMAN or PREACHER, or THE INVISIBLES or other long-running titles central to the Vertigo imprint's identity. But hey, Aristotle's POETICS is no more than a sodding 44 pages, which is sometimes all you need to jump-start a revolution.

In Milligan and McCarthy's own words, surrounded by "long and bloated 'concept album' comics", they were more interested in "the short, sharp, throwaway pop single. The type you danced to. The type you had sex to."

While the above statement can most be applied to their series PARADAX (also featured in the book), it pretty much hits the nail on the head with the majority of their collaborations, including ROGAN GOSH.

By the duo's own admission, it is not only difficult to describe what ROGAN GOSH is about, it is even pointless to ask. What may have been originally conceived as a “sci-fi Bollywood BLADE RUNNER” rapidly evolved into something far more demented. It starts off with Rudyard Kipling in Lahore en route to a place "where men of all castes come to sleep the sleep of dreams." Essentially, an opium den where "karmanauts can relieve a man of the curses of his sins.” If you think that opening scene will give you any idea of what follows, you are sorely mistaken. Kupling is entered into a "jasmine-scented dream of the future" where we are transported to psychadelic trip after psychadelic trip involving completely different characters:

- A man named Raju Dhawan waiting on another named Dean Cripps at a Tandoori joint called "Star of the East" - The blue-skinned Rogan Gosh on the run from the "bloody-tongued, dark destroyer" Kali together with a small idol of Kipling. - Raju Ghawan as Rogan Gosh together with Dean Cripps on the run from robotic hindu "Karma Kops". - Rogan Gosh as a bull-riding ancient Egyptian cowboy of the future, roaming through the mythic land of Wild Bill Osiris and Horus Thuh Kid.

If none of this makes the slightest bit of coherence, well that's because there is nothing coherent about it. Rather than there being any kind of train of thought, it's more like a train blown to bits upon the detonation of atomic dynamite. Shards of ideas floating around a nebula, jabbing into each other with every turn of the page. It's bizarre stuff, heavy on logic-defying captions almost as much as the explosive visuals. If you, the reader, let yourself go, you'll find that the synergy of text and image in ROGAN GOSH will drag you around a strong relentless current of spicy thought soup. Washing ashore an island of utter confusion is inevitable, but not without a sense of thrill retained from the memories of the surrealist storm that was.

Imagine a comicbook operating along the logic of say, PROMETHEA, 8 years prior to PROMETHEA's publication and without any of the rigorous explanation of the world's mechanics the way PROMETHEA delves into. Instead you're just thrown into it and left to make connections entirely on your own. That's what ROGAN GOSH feels like; a weird transcendental spell cast in comicbook form.

It isn't a coincidence that Milligan & McCarthy share something with Alan Moore other than British citizenship. All three after all did get their start making comix in the indie music paper SOUNDS. Moore with ROSCOE MOSCOW in 1979, and McCarthy et Milligan with THE ELECTRIC HOAX in 1978. This discovery, although new to me, was not at all surprising, as I find that I am typically drawn to creators who cut their teeth in avenues that fall outside of "the mainstream". Where the ones "in charge" understand little about what they’re doing, where anything goes and opportunities for mad experimentalism aren't stifled.

The greatest discovery in THE BEST OF MILLIGAN & MCCARTHY for me has been the duo's work on FREAKWAVE, a comic that, by Brendan's own admission, was directly inspired by MAD MAX 2: THE ROAD WARRIOR which Brendan became obsessed with during his surfing getaway in Australia in 1981. After which Brendan coerced Milligan to co-write a "Mad Max goes surfing" treatment Brendan could pitch to Hollywood. Hollywood didn't bite, but the duo did get to produce it as a backup strip in the pages of VANGUARD ILLUSTRATED published by Pacific Comics in 1983. Pretty straight adventure story initially (well, as straight as Milligan & McCarthy can muster anyway), with the most striking aspect of the strip being character designs and world building.

FREAKWAVE is a post-apocalyptic punk-rock drifter who windsurfs a flooded Earth in search of floating trash he can live off. He battles it out with disease-ridden humanoid "Water-rats" and psychopaths in gasmasks wrapped in old tin cans and the random cultural ephemera of old. FREAKWAVE would later resurface as a punk-absurdist Tibetan Book-of-the-Dead story in 1984's STRANGE DAYS, an anthology showcasing the work of Milligan, McCarthy, and Brett Ewans published by Eclipse Comics. It only ran for 3 issues, but Warren Ellis says it "landed like a hand grenade from another world", which is still exactly what it feels like going through its contents 34 years later today. It is especially in the pages of STRANGE DAYS' feature comic FREAKWAVE that you see Brendan McCarthy and Peter Milligan really rocking out like some kind of alternative comicbook band, the pages crackling with the energetic buzz of an electric guitar. Brendan especially reaches peak McCarthiasm, with 90% of his visionary work on FURY ROAD appearing here first on the page a good 31 years before blowing people's minds on  screen.

Which, by the way, how fucking cool is that? To be asked to work on the sequel to a film that inspired your scarcely read comicbook. And to be asked specifically because of your work on said comicbook?

Not to mention that FREAKWAVE, although given a pass by executives in Hollywood, very likely influenced the movie WATERWORLD in 1995, at the very least in terms of look and production design, which let's face it was the only really good thing about the film.

Nothing will give you that good kick in the balls to go off and make comix (or any ill-advised pursuit) more than looking at the work of Milligan and McCarthy. If a big part of the draw of comix for you is that it is medium void of filters between creator and reader, well then that cannot be more true of Milligan and McCarthy's collaborations. Because there are always editors keeping creators in check, or heck, even self-inflicted inhibition on the creator’s part. Not for Milligan and McCarthy.

Never for Milligan and McCarthy.

[Available on Amazon]

Ganzeer November 23, 2018

[blatherkatt]

Title: The Calm Is Terrifying When The Storm Is All You Know [Homestuck]

Chapter 21: Ambiguity 

Summary: There were two kinds of trolls who went to Earth: rich shitheads with too much money and free time, and desperate assholes who couldn’t survive on Alternia, even with the best efforts of the young Condesce. Karkat hated the planet almost immediately, but with his home planet too dangerous for mutants, he really didn’t have any choice but to hide out on this weird little diurnal planet. At least he’d be safe. Or so he thought, right before blundering his way into an accidental friendship with the son of an anti-troll terrorist.

Rating: M

Chapter Warnings: Mentioned/implied abuse, arguably disordered eating/you know how Dave hides food? yeah that; Pesterlogs 

FIRST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

gutsyGumshoe [GG] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] at 10:28 PM 07/06/2015  

GG: Good grief, I thought Roxy was exagerating about how late you stay up! Isn’t it past midnight at your house?

TT: I mean, yeah, but this is nothing.

TT: Was up til four yesterday. Ain’t no thing.

GG: >:B

TT: Not my fault there’s not enough hours in the day.

TT: I got shit to do. Robots to build, commissions to draw, asses to kick.

TT: Whole big schedule to sort through on the daily.

GG: Might one even say that you have some irons in the fire?

TT: Got so many burning irons, you’d think I’m a blacksmith.

TT: Enough swords, too, so really it’s

TT: Shit, hold on.

GG: ?

TT: God dammit.

TT: Be right back. Gotta deal with something. Ugh.

GG: Uh oh. It’s not a repeat of what happened last month, is it?

TT: Sorry about that. No, it turned out to be nothing.

TT: Again.

GG: Well, that’s a relief, I suppose.

GG: Um, what did you have to deal with, though?

TT: God, uh. Let me think.

TT: About a week or so after that bullshit last month went down, Dave heard a raccoon in the garage, and thought it might be someone trying to take him away again.

GG: Oh, goodness!

TT: No big deal, right? False alarm, everyone freaks out at first but it’s just something totally normal for out here.

GG: I remember you mentioning an adventure with one in your room last year, right?

GG: Roxy chronicled the whole event with photos from her cell phone.

TT: Yep.

TT: The thing with this is, though, that Dave keeps hearing things.

TT: That raccoon is so far the only time it’s actually been another living thing.

TT: A couple times, it was a fucking tree branch banging against a window. Most of the time it’s literally nothing.

TT: But he freaks out at the slightest noise from outside, and, well,

TT: I’m glad he’s telling us, at least?

TT: But.

GG: How often has this been happening?

TT: This was the third time this week. So, you know, pretty frequently. Always at night, so Mom can’t deal with it, because she doesn’t wake up easy.

GG: Shucks, Dirk, I’m sorry. That does sound like something of a hassle.

GG: Maybe you could ask Dave to try and be a bit brave?

TT: Can’t risk it.

TT: The old man’s quiet as hell. What if the one time I don’t check, it is him?

TT: I’d never forgive myself.

TT: Still, it’s frustrating. Especially because Dave won’t actually come down to my room himself.

GG: He won’t?

TT: No. He wakes up Rose and has her do it, so she’s always in a bad mood, too, but neither of us has any desire to take it out on Dave.

TT: It’s not his fault he’s scared of his own shadow.

TT: Fuck, if this keeps up, I’m gonna just build a bunch of security cameras and…

TT: Shit, no, that won’t work, Dave’s not allowed to use phones or computers. He’d still need someone else to check the feed for him. God dammit.

TT: Fucking house arrest bullshit.

GG: Hm.

GG: I’m…a bit loathe to suggest, this, but…

GG: You don’t suppose he’s jumpy because he’s hiding something again, do you?

TT: I mean, that’s a reasonable worry.

TT: He’s been talking to Rose a lot more, though, and he really did seem like he regretted what happened back in June.

TT: I think this is genuine paranoia, unfortunately.

GG: Gosh.

GG: I wish there was some way I could help, but I’m drawing a blank.

TT: Don’t sweat it, I mostly just needed to vent.

TT: Shit is ten kinds of stressful.

GG: I bet!

Karkat had no doubt about it now: Kanaya was up to something.

For the past week or so, he’d kept catching her speaking in hushed tones over her palm husk, usually visibly excited, but when he’d asked her what was up, she’d just grinned and informed him that it was “a surprise.” On the one hand, it was probably something totally harmless. On the other, Karkat knew his friends pretty well and he didn’t trust any of them with any ‘surprises’. Terezi’s idea of a ‘surprise’ had once resulted in him literally hanging upside down from her tree hive back on Alternia, one ankle snared in a rope. He didn’t even remember how things had lead to that, just that one moment she’d told him to come over to her house, and the next, hello, why is the world the wrong way up, what the fuck is this hoofbeast shit.

So, yeah, he was kind of wary, especially when Kanaya had asked that he and Rose (Dave ended up tagging along, too, out of curiosity) wait downstairs in the main room.

“Well?” Kanaya said, grinning widely as she stepped off the stairs.

It took Karkat a long moment to realize what had changed, but when he did, his jaw dropped.

“Holy shit, you’re not glowing!” he said, and heard a muffled “oh, fuck” from Dave next to him.

“How…?” Rose said, standing up.

“Turns out,” Kanaya said, “I did already actually know another rainbow drinker, who has been one far longer than I have, and she actually, you know, knows how it works. And she was able to teach me how to turn the glowing off, so!”

“So it’s not permanently gone, or anything?” Rose said. “I’d grown to like it so much, I’d hate to think you’d lost your spark so soon.”

Kanaya giggled over a pair of groans from Karkat and Dave. “Personally, I’m just glad someone finally shone a light on the ins and outs of this whole busine-”

Before Karkat could rightfully shout at the girls for the egregious punnage, a loud crashing noise from the basement made all four of them jump.

“What the fuck?!” Karkat yelped.

“Everything’s fine,” came a very muffled shout from Dirk. Rose darkly grumbled something about how Dirk was “going to set the house on fire one of these days if he wasn’t careful,” and just after she did, something even more surprising happened.

Dave, of all people, started laughing.

Karkat had heard Dave almost-laugh once or twice, but this was bordering on hysterics. He was doubled over on the couch, shaking with one of the most joyful sounds the troll had ever heard, if not a particularly attractive one. It was definitely an ugly laugh, and yet, a deeply contagious one, and Karkat had to fight to keep the corners of his mouth from curling up. (Especially because, even if he wasn’t sure what the joke was, seeing Dave this happy was doing things he didn’t want to admit to his blood pusher. Stupid pale crush, ugh.)  

“What on Earth is so funny?” Rose asked, visibly fighting a smile of her own.

Dave tried to answer a few times, failed, and just pointed at Kanaya, who had…apparently started glowing again.

Looking at her hands, she sighed, and said, “Oh, damn it. Maybe I don’t have as much control as I had hoped, hm…”

Wheezing for breath, Dave finally managed to choke out, “She’s — fucking, hahhaha, holy shit, she’s a — she’s a fucking clapper!”

Rose’s hand flew to her mouth to stifle a snort as Dave curled into a ball under another wave of laughter. “Dave,” she said, her own shoulders shaking, now, “that’s mean!”

“A what now?” Karkat said.

“There’s — God dammit, Dave, stop laughing — there’s a, a device, a sound-activated light switch, basically, that allows you to clap twice to turn the lights on or off,” Rose sputtered. Her request seemed to only spur Dave on more.

“That’s…why?” Karkat said.

“I don’t know,” Rose heaved.

“Oh, well,” Kanaya said, “He’s not exactly wrong, in that case.” She clapped her hands twice and the glow turned off, and everyone absolutely lost it, Karkat included. Kanaya had just looked so fucking proud of herself as she did it, God damn it —

“I mean, that’s not how it actually works,” Kanaya said, in between helpless giggles, “But I — the punchline was right there, I had to!”

Dave fell off the couch, actually fucking wheezing.

And then, he stopped, suddenly sitting up straight, staring at the kitchen. Karkat composed himself as best he could, and followed Dave’s gaze.

Dirk was standing by the fridge, a freshly opened bottle of orange soda in hand, silently watching. Noticing that he was now the center of attention, he shrugged, and said, “Well, don’t stop having fun on my account.”

Dave swallowed hard enough for Karkat to hear.

“I was just about to go down and check on you,” said Rose, folding her arms and turning towards him. Judging by the hints of laughter still sparkling in her eyes, she hadn’t noticed how rigid Dave had gone. “What are you doing down there?”

“Nothing unusual,” said Dirk. “Just dropped something, is all.”

“What, an entire train? A beam of the house? Dirk.”

“It’s fine, Rose, really,” he said, taking a sip of his soda.

“‘M gonna go,” Dave mumbled to Karkat, and slipped away before he could respond. The next sound anyone heard was that of the door to his block clicking shut.

Dirk frowned. “Aaaand there he goes,” he muttered. “Should’ve waited to open the fuckin’ soda til I was downstairs, I guess. Jesus.” He, too, departed, albeit at a reasonable pace. The room was left with the very air feeling heavy, an awkwardness settling in almost painfully.

Rose broke the silence, thank fuck. “I’ve had just about enough of this,” she said. “Kanaya, I’m sorry my brothers ruined what was supposed to be your moment of triumph, I really am happy for you.”

“It’s alright,” Kanaya said, nervous.

Somehow, Karkat wasn’t so sure.

There wasn’t much Dave remembered about living here before. One of the things that had always stuck out, though, was this…this presence, a presence with a face attached to it that Dave had eventually figured out was Dirk, and it was a thing that had always given him a sense of safety when he was little. Like, whatever he was doing, playing in the woods or what the fuck ever, if that sort of shadow was somewhere in the background, everything was okay, he was safe and could just keep doing whatever.

Dave sure as shit didn’t get that feeling off of Dirk now.

He wasn’t sure what had changed over the years he’d been gone, but now when the guy was around, the only sense he got was one of danger. Which was stupid, and he knew it. Dirk had literally done nothing to him, he had no reason to think that he was going to, and Rose had made it pretty fuckin’ clear that this wasn’t a house that was prone to ambush-based training or really any sort of fight practice that wasn’t fully voluntary. And also, he was still under house arrest and couldn’t use a sword anyway, so there was that too. Still…

There was just…something about his face, about the slope of his eyebrows when he was frustrated and the way he held his shoulders, about the way he’d breathe in real slow while visibly pissed off (or maybe he was just frustrated? God, he was so fucking hard to read), something that set off every internal alarm bell Dave had, bellowing an internal ‘GET THE FUCK OUT’ at the most obnoxious pitch and volume ever. He’d be sitting there like, geez, did we really have to do a fire drill today? It’s fuckin’ raining outside, come on! But nope, every time Dirk came in, there they go, the twitchy-ass wailin’ sirens shoutin’ at him to evacuate.

And, if Dave was honest with himself, the knowledge that Dirk probably wasn’t gonna hurt him sort of made everything worse. Because if this wasn’t all the long-term build up to a sword fight on the roof, then why the fuck was he…Why was he being so weird?

Weird in ways that were familiar enough, mind. Showing up at weird moments, sometimes giving off the danger vibe more than usual, and yet sometimes acting almost out of character —Bro did that sorta shit all the time, and Dave knew what the idea was there. It was just mind games. Probably to keep Dave on his toes and ready for anything, teach him to be suspicious or whatever. Sometimes the games had a specific goal and usually Dave could figure out what that was. But with Dirk? He had no fucking idea.

Especially since the most out of character shit seemed to happen when Dirk was actually pissed at him — like that time with the cat on the roof, how he’d been so fuckin’ gentle even while practically scowling (well. He’d looked mildly irritated, but. Same thing, right?). Or how about that fuckin’ fiasco back with the botched rescue attempt? He’d obviously been angry, he and Rose had nearly gone for each other’s jugulars right there in the fuckin’ kitchen! But he’d never directed anything worse than a fuckin’ heavy sigh at Dave, so what the fuck? Same with the fuckin’ sounds he kept hearing at night — every time another one happened, Dirk reacted a little less serious and a little more annoyed (and…yeah. That was fair. Dave wasn’t sure why he was so jumpy, lately, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched, somehow. Eyes burning holes in his back, and he couldn’t shake them, no matter where he went), but every few times he’d say that same thing again, that he’d rather go check on a false alarm than have Dave not try and give them a warning. And he’d say it that same way, too — his eyes serious and fuckin’ scary intense, but his voice soft, like he was talkin’ to a crying toddler. Dave couldn’t figure out what to make of it.

Part of him…that little whispery part that was always so contrary about this shit, the same one that had talked himself into admitting what was going on back in June, kept hoping that maybe Dave was misinterpreting shit, that the gentleness and the nice shit was genuine, but. He couldn’t buy it. Not whenever Dirk was in the room, being stoic and unreadable and fuckin’ scary.

Another part of him, one that had been steadily growing bolder ever since it had really sunk in that no one was gonna hit him, but had existed for longer than Dave had realized it was there, wanted him to fight back. Fuckin’ puff himself up and snap at Dirk, get him to either back off or push him over the edge to strike out — whatever it took to get rid of the terrifying goddamn ambiguity of this whole mess.

What held him back from acting on that bit, for now, was the memory of that fight between Dirk and Rose. That had been some scary shit, and it’d just burst in out of nowhere. One minute, all’s quiet, and the next, Dirk was fuckin’ lunging at Rose like a man on a mission. A death mission. Fuckin’ hell.

Dave didn’t want that. He really didn’t want it to come to that. The thought of having to fight Dirk, armed or no, made his gut twist and contort itself into all sorts of fucked up shapes.

But then again, so did the not knowing.

Something was gonna give, and Dave wasn’t sure he wanted to be around when it did.

The next time Rose saw her eldest brother was  once again in the kitchen, this time with an expression of suspicious confusion etched on his face. He was looking intently in the pantry, finger tapping out an agitated tune against the counter.

“That’s certainly a severe expression to fix on a bunch of innocent food. Are you having a fight with the ramen noodles?” Rose said, crossing her arms.

Dirk flicked an eye over to her, back to the pantry, and then leaned back. “Be a little tricky to have a fight with something that isn’t there,” he said. “Which is more my actual problem.”

“What?” Rose said, stepping over to the pantry herself. “But you just went to the store three days ago. I saw you bring in enough cup noodles to last you a good two weeks.” Yet, as she stood next to him, she could see for herself that he was right — there was just one left.

“Karkat’s been at them, for sure,” Dirk said, “But I don’t think that’s enough to account for them disappearing so fast. Have Dave or Kanaya been eating any, do you know?”

Rose thought for a long moment. “Kanaya tried them once,” she said, “but I don’t know that she cared for them much. As for Dave, I…” She frowned. “Actually, I don’t know that I’ve seen him eat anything in quite some time. Normally, he just takes food and retreats to his room.” She sighed. “Well, it probably is him, though. It’s what makes the most sense, unless our mother’s suddenly picked up a taste for them, which I doubt.”

“It’s not just cup noodles, though,” Dirk said. “That’s not that big of a deal. There’s other food that’s been disappearing. A whole packet of crackers disappeared last night, along with a half-full jar of peanut butter.”

“That’s…strange, sure,” said Rose, “But I doubt it’s anything serious.”

“That’s because you’re not in charge of groceries,” Dirk said. “I am, and I don’t like that things are disappearing almost as fast as I can buy them.”

“So buy more,” Rose said, exasperated. “We’re not exactly on a tight budget, here.”

“Hmph,” Dirk grunted, closing the pantry.

That really should have been the end of things, but things were never simple with Dirk. The mystery was solved that evening, as it turned out. While in her room with Kanaya, Rose heard a soft yelp from the kitchen. Flicking a worried glance to Kanaya, she stood, leaving her room just enough to get a glimpse of what was going on downstairs.

Dave was in the slightly-hunched, deeply tense pose she’d learned to recognize as his version of cowering, a bag of chips that she knew to be about a quarter full held half-hidden behind his back. Dirk was standing near him — dangerously close to cornering him, actually. He probably didn’t mean to do so, but Dave was already on edge, that much was clear.

Dirk calmly reached into a cabinet, and pulled out a small bowl, handing it to Dave. “You know,” he said, “you can just use one of these, and that way there’s enough for everyone —”

Something in Dave seemed to snap. His voice was terse and defensive, almost frantic, as he answered, “I know, okay?! I know it’s stupid and weird and — I can’t explain why, I know there’s plenty of food here, thank fuck for that because I don’t know where I’d get it on my own, but if I — if I don’t have enough stashed away, I wake up in the middle of the night in a cold fucking sweat, and it doesn’t matter how much I tell myself everything’s gonna be fine, I can’t turn it off, okay?”

It was almost uplifting to watch, in a way, as he seemed to puff himself up and half-spit his response — not great in terms of making amends, perhaps, but she’d learned to recognize her brother’s fear responses well enough to realize that he was standing up for himself, defending himself against the one person in the house he still found frightening, and even as she found herself saddened by his actual words, she was proud of him for having the courage to say them.

Dirk seemed thunderstruck. He was silent for a long moment, and in that moment, that rush of courage seemed to drain right out of Dave. His stance slipped back into a cower, as he mumbled an even more frantic, stuttery apology, promising to put the food back, that it wasn’t actually a big deal, he was fine —

“No, it’s — it’s okay, you can have it,” Dirk said. “I didn’t realize…It’s not that big of a deal, I’ve just. Been wondering where some of the food’s been disappearing to so fast. None of what you’ve taken needs to be in the fridge, so you’re…fine.”

Dave mumbled another sorry. Dirk didn’t answer, suddenly unable to meet Dave’s gaze. Rose didn’t wait to see if the conversation would continue; Dave looked enough like he was about to bolt for her to duck back into her own room. Moments later, she heard the Dave’s door slam shut.

“What was…” Kanaya started. Rose had already pulled out her phone.

“I’m texting Roxy,” Rose announced. “I’ve had about enough of this. She’s wrangled Dirk’s stubborn ego into cooperation before. If she can’t find a way to fix this, no one can.”

[a-panda-reads-act-omega]

ACT OMEGA PART 17

THE 04/02/17 UPDATE

Welcome to the... sixth update today? I hope this isn’t getting excessive. It probably is. OH WELL, i dont care. lets just hurry this up and GET ON WITH THIS SINGLE PAGE.

80%, huurrry up. I just realized, these updates are a LONG while apart, so this download probably is meant to represent how LONG they’d have to wait. There’s a flash for the 100th page, so im gonna assume thats what was eating up their time.

PLugging something in. Also, I just wanna mention how perfect Rose’s sassy pose is. John’s explaining more shit with Karkat, and DAD’s watching over appropriately.

Oh. Kanaya looks upset about something (could it be how rose was totally checkin jade out). Dirk looks confused, or just kinda like everybody’s missing something he thinks is obvious. Jade seems content. Jake is looking kinda insecure. Terezi still seems bothered by Vriska’s absense. Roxy and Calliope are smiling next to Dave’s neutral self. and OH. Looks like Hal plugged in the audio, because now we get to see a pesterlog!

or... bunnylog

JOHN: are we all good? JOHN: is that everything? DIRK: I really fucking hope so. JADE: yes, john JADE: thats everything

GOOD NOW GO GO GO!!!

JOHN: so i can finally, FINALLY open the stupid door? ROSE: Yes, again, John. The stupid door is yours for the opening. JOHN: anyone have any issues with the plan? TEREZI: W3 JUST T4LK3D 4BOUT 1T PR3TTY 3XT3NS1V3LY TEREZI: 1F SO TH3N TEREZI: TOUGH SH1T, 1 S4Y JOHN: so we're even good on all the weird ectobiology stuff?? KANAYA: I Reserve The Right To Alter My Stance On That At Any Time KANAYA: Though Not Necessarily Right Now

Hmm.. did Kanaya not want to use ectobiology for baby stuff? Or maybe she finds the mixing genes thing to be odd. Maybe she wanted to make baby’s the old fashioned way with rose ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

lenny looks weird on tumblr.

KARKAT: EXCUSE ME, *I* RESERVE THAT SAME RIGHT. KARKAT: BECAUSE APPARENTLY I’VE BEEN IMPLICATED IN THAT MESS SOMEHOW? KANAYA: Yes Precisely JOHN: that’s fine, i guess? JOHN: we have everything we need for that no matter what you decide, anyway. JOHN: earth is all de-flooded for sure, right jade? JADE: yeah! like i said before, i can even see my island back above sea level! JADE: or, rather, jakes island JAKE: Youre welcome to share it with me. JAKE: If you want. JAKE: Though i presume its somewhat different from the version you grew up on... JADE: aw! thanks, jake JADE: well see JADE: i definitely want to at least see the changes up close!

That could be awkward though! Jake doesn’t seem to be a people person, annnd... Well, Jade only just met him. Would it really be that great to live with somebody you’ve only just met? even if he is your grandpa. I just realized, the person Jake got along with the best was Tavros. And in another universe... Tavros fucking murdered Jake. Irony.

DAVE: i cant believe that reverse noahs ark scheme worked DAVE: well actually i can DAVE: this game would be in need of some serious balancing if it wasnt permissible by virtue of kicking so much ass DAVE: i mean think about it DAVE: were like DAVE: actually gods DAVE: and we just congregated on this circular platform and discussed how wed shape an entire civilization DAVE: except instead of taking six days we all had a quick thirty minute powwow and decided yeah this is probably good enough lets skip to the sabbath already DAVE: so maybe more like zeus and his pantheon on mt olympus or whatever

Dave dont get a god complex. thats all i have to say.

ROXY: lol ROXY: weve still got a long way to go before were all like ROXY: greco-roman levels of omnipodouche ROXY: though i bet that jade n i could def construct a marble palace 4 u john ROXY: on top of some ridiculously tall mountain ROXY: from which u can rule the skies and shoot lightning bolts from ur fingertips at pesky disobedient ectobabies

Yes, Jade and her need to build it together (I need some version of Jade Lalonde to come true dammit im sorry.)

JOHN: that sounds cool and all, but... JOHN: even if i could smite people, i don’t think i would! JOHN: i’d rather just get inside people’s heads and talk shit. JOHN: mwahahaha.

Ok yep youre adorable John, but now IM REALIZING YOU STILL HAVENT GONE THROUGH THE DOOR HURRY U P.

JADE: how diabolical! JADE: no palace for you, then JOHN: damn. JOHN: how about a dungeon? JADE: maaaaaybe :P CALLIOPE: oh! i think i know what stories yoU’re referring to! CALLIOPE: it does seem apropos, doesn’t it. CALLIOPE: does this mean that i have a place among the rest of yoU at the oUtset of this odyssey? ROXY: ofc it does! ROXY: ur like ROXY: an integral part! JANE: You know what? Callie, do you still have the book we were writing in earlier? CALLIOPE: Um. i think so. JANE: I think it would be perfect if you were our official scribe! JANE: You could keep record of everything so these important moments are preserved for future generations. CALLIOPE: !!! :U CALLIOPE: i woUld love that! ROSE: I did something somewhat similar over the course of the last three years. ROSE: It’s fairly therapeutic. CALLIOPE: oh? CALLIOPE: i might be a bit more aware of what yoU’re referring to than yoU know. ~_u CALLIOPE: therapUtic is right. ROSE: ... ROSE: If I’m understanding you correctly. ROSE: You and I are going to need to chat. ROSE: Specifically about private things that are best left out of the clutches of the impressionable coming ages. ROSE: Or, better yet, forgotten altogether. KANAYA: (I Disagree) ROSE: (Kanaya!) KANAYA: (Heh)

UGhh, you guys need to stop being cUTE AND OPEN THE DOOR.

IM sorry, how can I not get anxious when theres a fucking flash coming up, and everybody’s acting all happy.. .

CALLIOPE: of coUrse! CALLIOPE: thoUgh... no promises! CALLIOPE: i can hardly wait to get started on all this! DIRK: Yeah. I for one, would love to see myself in a history book. DIRK: Nothing better to stroke your own ego. DIRK: But in order for any of that to happen. DIRK: We should probably, you know. DIRK: Get on with it.

Thank you Dirk, listen to him he knows what’s up. This game is nothing but disaster after disaster, but most disasters come when everybodys being STUPID. so use your brains and open the door before somehow you all die due to a session in your new universe having such a powerful prototype ring that their queen and/or jack manages to get to your session and fuck you all up.

JOHN: oh. JOHN: yeah, you’re right. JOHN: damn it, we got side tracked again! TEREZI: W3LL 1F YOU DONT W4NT 1T TO H4PP3N 4G41N TEREZI: M4YB3 YOU SHOULD JUST OP3N TH3 STUP1D DOOR 4LR34DY! KARKAT: AND DO IT QUICKLY. NO DRAWING IT OUT! JOHN: okay, i’m opening it! JOHN: the moment we’ve all been waiting for-- KARKAT: WHAT DID I *JUST* SAY? JOHN: hehe! sorry, couldn’t resist. JOHN: for real this time. JOHN: here goes!

Here, FUCKIN GOES!

ughh theyre all gonna die... I guess we’ll see on the next update, so STAY TUNED FOLKS

[johannesviii]

Earthworld

Some highlights of the last EDA I’ve read (Earthworld).

I took these screens while reading, along with my reactions. As usual, this is full of spoilers.

This is exactly what everyone needed after the Earth arc, and especially after Escape Velocity and Anji’s lackluster characterisation. She’s reintroduced in this book, and what a wonderful addition to that TARDIS team! And the book tackles the topic of Dave’s death, where the previous one kinda refused to do so before sending Anji directly into space.

Come to think of it, the book tackles a lot of things it didn’t have to, and succeeds, too. Eight’s responsability in the destruction of Gallifrey constantly threatens to make a comeback in his mind. The issue of Fitz being a copy of the original Fitz is discussed at last - a thing all the books since Interference failed to do properly (including The Ancestor Cell). Come to think of it, Earthworld might just be the best Fitz book so far, which is a baffling thing to me considering that’s his twentieth book!

The plot itself is mostly a good runaround in an amazingly fun setting - it never really threatens to be more than that, but it’s still pretty refreshing. It’s a great standalone book, a fun romp, a very good character piece ; it works on nearly every level. What a breath of fresh air. 8,5/10

My bad, I seem to have picked the novelisation of An Unearthly Child.

We’re only on page one and I’ve already laughed out loud once. Good sign.

I just had a flashback of the scene from Memory Lane where Charley tries to use a mobile phone, and I imagined these two dorks trying to have a conversation over mobile phones and I’m giggling

Also Anji thinking Fitz and Eight are embarrassing idiots gives me life

This is a 3 out of 10 on the scale of Bad Ideas.

WE’RE ONLY THREE PAGES INTO THIS STORY AND I’VE ALREADY SAID “IDIOTS” THREE TIMES

Oh my god Eight

Thank you for your precious contribution Doctor

FITZ NO

Are you telling me that the Doctor can only use the sonic as long as he’s distracted and babbling about special interests now

Because that really speaks to me as a person

Meanwhile Anji is trying to cope with Dave’s death by writing him emails and this shouldn’t be that funny

Oh no he still has some memories of Sam and he doesn’t realise it

Okay so I need to make this t-shirt right now immediately

One thing I don’t really like about the writing is that some dialogues are entirely one-sided. It’s not the best example, but in some scenes you only get half the dialogue and it’s very strange.

We’re all very happy for you Doctor but why are you so happy about that

OH SHIT HAHAHA that’s a great idea!

Wait a f█cking second

Is this some sort of Disneyland very loosely based on Earth

I love you Anji

That girl must be a New Who fan who calls Ten “the second Doctor” probably

I probably should smile but I’m actually sad

That coat has only a few hours left to live & I have zero doubts about this

Here’s a better example of what I was saying earlier about having only one side of a dialogue. It makes scenes shorter, true, but it’s very distracting.

I’m laughing but I’m also pretty sure people from 3000 years ago would laugh their asses off if they could see some of our reconstructions of their lives

I still love you Anji

1) A++ description of McGann’s voice

2) That last bit was Not Okay

Also here’s Anji trying to determine which Jungle Book character suits the Doctor best and it looks like a long shitpost

First I laughed about Fitz being the orang-utan, and then I remembered that character really wants to be human and I abruptly stopped laughing

You were on Earth and you didn’t see Blade Runner when it came out? Aw

“he mentally kicked himself for not even being able to look at a babe without thinking of the Doctor” I’m screaming

How did you guess

Only every three months?

Considering it’s been 30 books since Seeing I, and taking into account the fact that I almost wrote “TOO SOON”, we can safely assume that I will never, ever be over Seeing I

I absolutely love this conversation, and also sky-blue pink is still a color, just an impossible one, and it’s quite pretty

Holy sHIT TALK ABOUT MOOD WHIPLASH

OH NOOOO, HELP, CUTE

THIS SHOULDN’T BE THAT F█CKING FUNNY

HE JUST SLIPPED IN THE DAMN BLOOD WHY AM I LAUGHING SO HARD

Unfortunately this is what popped first into my mind before the most logical explanation for their names

9847221° friendly reminder that I absolutely love Eight

FITZ NO

This book makes me laugh way too often this isn’t fair

Oh the indignity

Fitz no. Just. No.

I just choked on my cereals

1) They think Aristophanes plays are cookbooks and they aren’t even questioning this, like, how does that fucking work

2) Fitz once got trapped in the classical section of the TARDIS library

3) for two days

4) for two DAYS

5) and decided to read old plays just in case there was some sex scenes in them

holy shit

there’s genuine tears of laughter in my eyes

This book is quite the emotional rollercoaster isn’t it

Okay so that explains quite a few things. Fitz is with the originals, then.

THIS IS WHAT YOU GET FOR TRYING TO CONVINCE PEOPLE YOU’RE A ROCK STAR FITZ KREINER

I shouldn’t be laughing so hard

I’m still laughing but I’m also so happy for him

Live the dream, Fitz, live the dream

Well except it wasn’t technically you, except it was, except it wasn’t

HOLY SHIT ARE WE FINALLY GOING TO ADDRESS THIS PROPERLY?!

NOT

F█CKING

ALLOWED

OUCH

Addressing a disturbing trend in SF! Good!

Well to be fair, theropods are sorta like big swans

1) Eggy-put Zone

2) Dozens of cats

Hey wait a f█cking second that’s not the same sphinx okay that’s a whole different mythology, also I’m laughing again, this book is probably adding quite a few extra months to my lifespan

Friendly reminder that I love Anji

Which would definitely work on you, Doctor, just a reminder

Meanwhile, in Not Okay Land

At the moment? Not much

I... sorry there’s a thing in my eye

I’m so happy for him

HA HAHAHA

SPOKE TOO SOON F█CK

Back to a place I haven’t been to in a long time, aka “want to hug Fitz and rock back and forth” street

Meanwhile Fitz is doing the same thing to a small crocodile

STORY OF MY F█CKING LIFE

Listen Eight I'm still not ready for The Turing Test references at this point and you’re making me really sad so please stop

Here’s a quick update on the “Johannes loves Anji” situation

Keep this poster for the TARDIS

Something is extremely wrong

Meanwhile, in “Eight finds new and interesting ways to hurt himself”

Oh so that Fitz was an android, then.

Every time I think this book can’t get more bonkers, I’m proven wrong

I would pay money to see a tv version of this damn scene

I shouldn’t laugh but I can’t help it

“HE WAS GOING TO HAVE TO PAY ATTENTION TO WHAT HE WAS DOING WHILE HE WAS DISTRACTED”

Unexpected Dark Eyes: The Great War feels

WE HAVE A WINNER, FOLKS

I DON’T THINK FITZ IS EVER GOING TO BEAT THAT AS FAR AS “EMBARRASSING MOMENTS” GO, THAT ONE PUTS “GETTING MUGGED BY A UNICORN FOR A CHOCOLATE BAR” TO SHAME

His life is so full of horrible things that his only reaction to being locked up in a cell with a corpse is “at least it’s not rotting yet”.

Oh shit they found about the TARDIS that can’t be good

“Nothing good could possibly be called ‘the machine’”

NOT. F█CKING. OKAY.

This is stressful but also fascinating??

Good. Good.

You’re not telepathic Fitz Kreiner so I doubt she got all that

I completely forgot he had lost his trousers and now I’m laughing again

Told ya

You can’t swim? You can’t swim?? You go through time and space and you can even spacewalk but you can’t swim????

Anji is unexpectedly strong

I’m so happy he still remembers Iris on some level even if he couldn’t recognise her in Father Time

1) Hugs

2) Hugs are good

3) Anji huddled in Eight’s velvet coat

4) “he seemed to count in her head as another girl”

Filed under “need to draw at some point”

Marlin and Lancelet

I have no words

Eight plays “Marlin” because of course he is

Also I’m not screening everything but Anji was brilliant

BAD IDEA

VERY BAD IDEA

9 OUT OF 10 ON MY SCALE OF BAD IDEAS

FOR ONCE I AGREE WITH FITZ

NOOOOOOO

This is so damn weird. Funny and stressful at the same time.

Eight is reliving the memories of the dead queen and it is so f█cking weird

In a good way but still

YES BUT I DON’T WANT TO ALARM ANYONE BUT THEY WERE STILL CONNECTED TO THE THING SO I EXPECT SOME SIDE-EFFECTS

HAHAHA

Also “to Fitz’s incredulous horror”

Uh guys

Guys if he thinks he’s dead now, shouldn’t you worry about that or something

I told yoU GODDAMMIT

“quietly pleased”

Oh, that explains quite a lot, actually.

I just realised Anji’s was only coping thanks to pure adrenaline and constant distractions since Dave’s death and she’s inevitably going to crack sooner or later once everything is solved here.

AND STRAIGHT BACK TO THE BAD IDEAS

Hmmm cute?? Not acceptable? Thank you

The TARDIS did a very good job and all is well.

Every time that happened before, that person died, Fitz

Crisis averted.

I’m getting surprisingly emotional about all this

Well I’m really f█cking sad now

Don’t make me cry please Anji oh no

The butterfly room is still there but is now empty after all the butterflies were nailed to that door in The Ancestor Cell and I’m getting teary but also kinda happy, this feeling is extremely confusing

A++ ending, goddammit that last scene was wonderful

[corvid-knight]

Demon Eyes - chapter 10

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13740258/chapters/31990530

Karkat's right; it only takes about forty-five minutes for the pleasantly weird dizzy feeling to mostly wear off. Mostly. There's still a comfortable bit of euphoria left over. It makes everything just a touch more pleasant, for no reason at all.

Dirk offers Karkat a room, and the demon just shrugs and grumbles something about how he wants to keep an eye on you. And yeah, maybe that gets a raised eyebrow from your cousin, but he doesn't say anything about it. Which is good, because even with the leftover magic high you probably would have gotten immediately, intensely uncomfortable with any questions Dirk could've asked.

So the room that Karkat carried you to so you could come down, that's your room. (And his.) For as long as you stay, anyway. Which could be a while—you did promise Rose you'd stick around until she came down to see you, after all. Anyway, you'll be here long enough to justify bringing your shit in from the truck.

Karkat's been shanghaied by John again; Hal makes at least an attempt to help carry stuff in, but after a couple trips back and forth, he notices Bro's laptop, its bag tucked under the seat, and pulls it out with a quick glance at you. "How open would you be to my going through this? I'd like to see if that asshole had any info he wasn't sharing with the rest of us."

"It's probably gonna be encrypted, but knock yourself out." The phone's on the console between the front seats; you snag it and toss it to him. "Might be shit on that too—just, like, be careful going through the pics if you decide to do that."

Hal grimaces as he catches the phone, sliding it into one of the outer pockets of the laptop bag. "Unless he collected glyphs of unmaking—"

"Not sure what that is, but I don't think so."

"Right. Good. I'll be fine, then; fucked-up shit doesn't bother me quite as much as it does Dirk or the others." He pauses halfway through the movement of digging out one of your bags, a thoughtful look spreading across his face. "...which might possibly say something about my morals, I suppose. Or lack thereof."

"How come?" You yank the bag all the way out—Hal seems more hesitant to treat your belongings roughly than you are—and try to remember what's in it. Bro's clothes, you think. Karkat can take anything he wants, and you're making a goddamn bonfire out of the rest.

"The obvious assumption for a normal human is that a person who isn't immediately and viscerally disgusted by graphic images is one who's comfortable with them." Hal shrugs, taking the bag out of your hands and slinging it over his shoulder. "Maybe even desensitized to them, possibly approving of them."

"Are you?" You don't really expect an affirmative answer, but you're curious as to how exactly he will react. You're probably risking pissing him off...but that didn't occur to you until after you asked.

Hal just shakes his head. "I do have morals. I can recognize atrocities as such—not sure if that's the right word for what's on the phone—"

"It's. Uh. It's a pretty good word for some of them."

"Ah." There's a hesitation, maybe just to acknowledge what you just said and maybe to give him time to consider what you might mean. You're not going to enlighten him. "...that's not the sort of thing that upsets me, but I'm as capable of knowing what's morally wrong as anyone is."

"Well, other than Bro. Obviously." Damn, I seriously didn't need to say that.

"Obviously," Hal agrees, and glances at you as you stop to get the door to your room open. "Would you mind if I saved any images that'd incriminate him as..."

This time, the hesitation is definitely him hunting for a word that's descriptive but also inoffensive enough not to hurt you. He really shouldn't be worried about that second one.

"As a sick fucking bastard?" you supply, and Hal smiles a bit.

"Exactly that. Just in case."

You almost ask in case of what? but you guess you do know, actually. Just in case anyone tries to say that his death wasn't justified. Just in case you and Karkat need protection later.

"Take whatever you want off of there, dude." As you take the bag back from him, you think of an exception to that offer. "...uh. Just, like. Do me a favor, alright? Delete anything of me that you find."

He gives you a sharp, very-like-Dirk look that you pretend not to notice at all. "So I'm going to find compromising photos of you?"

"Maybe. Dunno." Bro didn't usually keep the kind of pics you're thinking of longer than overnight—at least you don't think he did. It's entirely possible he's got a whole file of them, buried deep enough that you never found it in your quick forays through his electronics. More than possible; probable.

You don't want anybody seeing the pics he took of you like that. Bad enough it happened at all—it'd be fucking horrible, humiliating almost beyond anything Bro did to you, to have anybody else know.

Hal's just watching you, head tilted. You realize that you let this pause go on longer than is comfortable. Fuck.

"Look, if you do find any? Delete 'em. I sure as hell don't want 'em."

"Of course." He nods, stepping out of the room. "And I'll show you anything I want to save before I save it, just to be sure."

"Yeah." God, you don't know how to thank him for that. "That's, uh. That's good, that's great." Dammit. You're not good at this kind of shit.

Hal doesn't seem to mind, at least. "Give me a couple hours and I'll have these back to you," he says, and then he shuts the door and you're left to finish unpacking by yourself.

Which is also, actually, good.

It's more like four hours before Hal reappears. You spend the time sorting out shit you want from shit you don't, making Karkat go through the latter category to see if there's anything he wants (other than a couple shirts, there isn't) and obtaining permission from Dirk to torch it in the backyard.

Piled into the firepit and soaked with a cupful of diesel siphoned from the truck, it all burns pretty damn nicely. Maybe petty destruction shouldn't make you feel this much better, but fuck it. You think you've earned the right to be petty against the fucker this stuff belonged to.

Rose calls Dirk before you're all the way done watching the fire. She wants to talk to you, once she knows you're there, and he ends up bringing the phone out and leaving you with it, and you talk to her for a good hour, sitting in the grass and watching clothes get converted to ashes as you do.

She tells you that she's engaged, to a vampire. Kanaya, she says, and you have to grin at the way she says it. Rose is most definitely in love, and you're more than happy for her.

She tells you that she and Kanaya are flying down in a week or so, and they're stopping to pick up Jade and bringing her down too. Then she has to ask you if you're okay, because you managed to choke on absolutely nothing at the mention of Jade and cough into the phone for a solid minute.

You're fine. Just. Surprised. With a couple questions.

Yes, Jade is fine. Apparently she's a shifter now (which gives you a definite what the fuck moment), bitten by a werewolf a couple years ago. Rose spends maybe five minutes rambling about the fascinating interaction of the bite's curse and Jade's latent magic (you didn't actually know she had magic at all), which combined to make her something distinctly different from a were. Yes, she remembers you; she's excited to see you. Yes, she knows you're traveling with a demon, and she's more than okay with that.

The fact that everyone's okay with you being this close to a demon is taking more than a little getting used to.

By the time Rose has to hang up, the sun's half-set. Dirk and John are working on what you assume is dinner, and Jake's using the floor of the living room to do a tarot reading for Karkat. You try to avoid stepping on any of the cards as you sit down on the floor next to the demon. "He tell you anything you don't already know, 'kat?"

"A couple things." He shrugs and scoots a few inches closer to you, enough to just barely touch. "I think Jake's being flattering. There's no way those fucking cards are calling me heroic as often as he's claiming they do."

"Oh, be quiet." Jake huffs and looks up from his work, pushing his glasses back up. "My interpretation is the most accurate you're going to get, Mr. Vantas."

Karkat groans at that name, rolling his eyes. "Please fucking forget I ever told you my last name."

"No can do; I need that for accurate divination." Jake smiles brightly, reaching down to gather his cards up into one pile. "Dave, I'd like to do a drawing for you tomorrow."

"Uh." He'll know shit about you, maybe more than you strictly want him to. But Jake's not going to use whatever he learns against you. "You can do me now, if you want."

"I'm afraid I might've already done a few too many rounds today, actually." He shrugs, giving you a quick, apologetic smile. "My own stupid curiosity, making me keep fooling around when I have a headache. I'll be fine so long as I stop trying to do readings for a bit." He finishes straightening up his cards and gets to his feet, almost bumping into Hal on his way out of the room.

Karkat raises his eyebrows as Hal comes straight over to sit where Jake was a minute ago, watching as the shikigami opens the laptop he's holding and starts typing. "You look pissed over something."

"Accurate." Hal nods, eyes fixed on the screen. He doesn't look upset to you. Well, not unless you really focus on the set of his shoulders and the stiffness of his calm expression. "Dave, question."

"What?"

"Do you still want to see the images I wanted to save, or no? I...didn't quite realize how bad some of these are. I know you might not want to look..."

Karkat growls softly as Hal trails off. Dave, don't you dare.

I can take it, you think at him, and nod at Hal. "Yeah, it's fine. Lemme see."

He spins the laptop to face you, and you immediately regret that decision. There's just thumbnails up, but you can still see the pics well enough for your brain to supply the details. You got to see most of these in all their original bloody horror, after all.

Fuck. Fucking bastard.

"Fuck this," Karkat growls, reaching forward to shut the laptop; you catch his hand right before he can touch it.

"Hold up. Hal, this one—"

He leans over to see which one you're pointing at. It's not a really bad one; just an image of a tattoo with blood mostly obscuring the pattern and a series of teeth marks dug into it. Human teeth marks; you know that even if it's hard to tell from the picture. "The one with the fucked-up protection rune?"

"Yeah. Delete it." Just looking at the image provokes a faint phantom pain at the base of your neck, and you have to restrain yourself from rubbing uncomfortably at the scarred tattoo there. "And any other pics you saved of it, I guess. Copy whatever else you want and delete the originals, okay?"

"Of course." He nods, spinning the computer around again. "Twenty minutes tops."

"Yeah. Thanks." Without thinking, you lean against Karkat.

The fact that his immediate reaction is to wrap an arm around your shoulders is so comforting.

You wake up at somewhere around two in the morning, briefly confused by the fact you're curled up on top of someone before you remember that it's Karkat. The grin that that realization provokes brings on the second realization that you really need a drink of water.

Getting off of Karkat and out of the room without waking him up isn't all that hard. Finding a fucking glass in the kitchen is more difficult, actually; every cabinet door creaks, and every time you make any kind of a noise you can't help but freeze, even though odds are nobody can hear anyway.

Call it force of habit.

Eventually, though, you find a cup and get your drink, rinse the glass off and leave it in the rack to dry. When you turn around, Jake's standing in the doorway, watching you.

Which nearly gives you a heart attack. How the hell did you not hear him?

"Uh..."

"Hello, Knight of Blades and Fortune." The words come out of his mouth at what seems like half-speed, and he cocks his head to one side, eyes half-closed as he smiles at you. "You've come a long way."

"Jake, what're you—"

You stop when he shakes his head slowly. "The Page of Wands sleeps."

"...okay, then." You're not entirely sure what's going on, but Page of Wands would be as good a card for Jake as any. He is a bearer of important news, after all. "You oughta go back to bed if you're asleep, man."

That earns you a slow smile from him. "The Page is asleep."

"And you're not?"

"Perish the thought." Okay, that comes out closer to how Jake normally sounds. "Tomorrow."

"What about tomorrow?"

"A task for the others. It wasn't meant for you, but without you—" He raises his hands, cups them in front of him and then jerks them apart, bowing his head. The gesture's oddly terrifying, and even though it should be meaningless you know it does have a meaning. Destruction.

Well, fuck. Not like you can let that kind of thing happen. "So I gotta go along on whatever job y'all end up getting, huh?"

Another shrug as he raises his head. His eyes are closed now. "Free will is yours to invoke, Knight."

"Yeah, yeah. C'mon, let's get you back to your boyfriend, alright? Let him figure out your prophecy shit."

Jake doesn't react to that, but he lets you lead him to Dirk's room, and Dirk doesn't seem all that surprised at being woken up. He just nods when you tell him what Jake said, mumbling a sleepy thank you before pulling him into the room.

You can hear Jake start to talk again as Dirk shuts the door, and you can't help but wonder whether it's more predictions or just sleeptalk. Either way, Dirk might be up for a while.

Karkat growls at you when you crawl back into bed, opening his eyes for a second before pulling you back on top of him. "You were scared for a minute there?"

"Jake came up behind me, is all." You could tell him that something might happen tomorrow. Then again, you could not do that, and just go back to sleep. You decide on the second. "It's all good."

He just grumbles something unintelligible and drapes an arm around you. With him this comfortingly close, it only takes you a little while to fall asleep.

[keepitpg2017-blog]

Feedback from Lindsay Rodden

During our scratch performance one of the audience members who watched the show was Lindsay Rodden, a writer and theatre-maker originally from Ireland. I had met Lindsay previously during a number of workshop sessions as part of the MA programme last year. Lindsay was also present at my solo show Mo Oige which of course looked at Irish identity and Irish upbringing. I got in touch with Lindsay after our scratch to get some feedback from a dramaturgical point of view, as well as a personal viewpoint from a fellow Irish citizen.

Below is Lindsay's feedback in relation to developing Keep it PG from a scratch, to a piece of theatre:

"I know this is just my take on things.  And yours will of course be different.  I'm trying (in a very long-winded way) to make a few different points: 

- That the timing of your play makes it very important indeed.  This is a crucial point in history and you are making a play about it.  That's a big responsibility, and doesn't mean that you need to solve or answer anything - not at all - quite the opposite.  I think you have to be careful not to simplify too much, not to make it too neat or easy to swallow.  And that's really hard when you have limited time, to do justice to that complexity.

- That it's personal.  Don't be afraid of that.  Other people could take this subject on, sure, but you are.  Not you in terms of what you represent - Catholic, young, male etc.  But you with your own personal history, your memories, your family, your emotions, your future, your home.  Put that in.  Make the show only you could make and don't be afraid to put the real you - not what you symbolise - at the heart of it.

- That there are a number of narratives at work here, and none of them are definitive.  But your audience do not have a collective brain.  One of my pet hates is being sat in an audience, observing all the rules of being quiet and attentive and receptive, and then a performer on stage telling me they know what I think or feel about a certain situation or idea, when they know nothing about me, and when the conventions of the performance dictate that I have no comeback.  You don't have to assume the best of your audience but don't assume ignorance either.  Aim high.  Give them something more complicated than they were expecting, they can take it.

- That there is, though, a simplistic narrative currently being told about Northern Ireland, that is reductive and lazy.  And that you have to counter that.  So what do you want the audience to take away from your show?  What is your counter narrative?  And it might be hard to sum up, messy, contradictory, awkward, it might be personal and delicate, whatever it is, I think if you know what that endpoint is then you will have your show.

 - That you're on to something, I think.  There's a really important, warm, funny, beautiful piece of theatre to be made about this.  You're the man to do it!!

I think the easier bit is the technical, structural stuff, and the dramaturgical possibilities your starting point suggests:

We go into the theatre with expectations.  I already knew that a Catholic man and a Protestant woman were going to take sides, and that is exactly what I got.  And that's fine as a starting point, but where do you take us then?  How do you subvert that expectation?

Some what-ifs and some thoughts...

What if they, by design or 'accident', end up on the 'wrong' side?  If they have to speak or live the other's story? 

What if they end up on the same side?  What would it take to make that happen?

Or the physical language of the stage breaks down so that the set doesn't give them 'sides' any more?  Think about the physical choreography of the piece, and how you use the stage.  Think of the floor as a map, and everything that represents.  Think of that hideous oxymoron: a 'peace wall', of whole towns unvisited by the 'other', of the endless squabbles over who gets to march where.

When is there no side at all? 

Think of people who actually don't fit into either narrative, who don't, or won't, pick a side, or aren't welcome in either.  Of  the Eastern European Northern Irish, Chinese Northern Irish, Syrian Northern Irish.

Think of Yeats - 'Great hatred, little room' - the ridiculousness of it all really (and you are great on the ridiculousness, I love that!  More on this below), this tiny place, riven with contradiction, carved up by tradition, scarred by fighting.  And here are you and Paige sharing this tiny stage (how tiny could it be?  Could you have fun with that?) and working out where the divide is, what it's made of, what it's really for.  And really you are just two friends on the same stage from the same somewhere-else.

The 'two sides' convention is, I would argue, part of the lazy established narrative, so how you break it is, I think, crucial. 

I love the particularity and ridiculousness, the pantomime theatricality of the place, that only insiders can really fully understand.  I love what you're doing with language, and I wonder if there is some more mileage in that.  The arguments of whether Irish and Ulster Scots are true and distinct languages takes a back seat when you consider that Northern Irish people also share a language, that is everyday, domestic, funny, poetic.  And I like the idea that it can border on being unintelligible to the outside, that it is something that bonds people.  And not just language, but all the strange little peculiarities of a place so often overlooked, and for so long inward-looking, and in so many ways foreign to the rest of the UK.  I remember an English friend in Liverpool, a socialist internationalist folk singer (we'll call him Dave, 'cos that's his name), telling me that Ireland was just like England really, or at least Northern England, and I nearly choked on my pint.  Jesus, has he actually been there?  Liverpool has many Irish characteristics, sure, but it's that way round Dave!  Damn it, here am I taking sides again... 

But if you're going to go into the peculiarities of language and place then really go for it - how far can that take you?  How absurd and weird and lovely could that be for the audience, with you and Paige talking in a language that unites you?  And the pageantry of the place, the costumes, the traditions, the endless bonfires, the squabbling over who gets to walk down which road today - it reminds me of clowning sometimes.  See where it takes you.  And see what draws you together. 

That goes too for something like the sight gag of dropping a can of Guinness - well what instead of a sight gag, the pair of you drank five pints over the duration of the show?  Then what happens?  I'm not sure I'm actually suggesting you do that (am I?!), but it's an interesting 'what if' - what if the show is really an awkward mixed marriage celebration necessitating shared drinking and dancing and karaoke...

It's time to tell a new story.  And I think that, whatever that story really is for you, if you know what you would like that new story to be, and even if the structure is built around trying and failing to tell it, then you have your play."

Being able to speak to Lindsay and gain some much needed constructive, honest criticism in relation to Keep it PG was brilliant. Knowing she too can relate to the problematic nature of discussing the history of Ireland in the confinements of a theatre show, having written a number of short plays about Irish identity and society herself, was important to me. This made me realise what we're attempting to do isn't easy, tackling Irish history in a theatre piece is a challenging task for a theatre-maker. However, knowing this made me even more passionate and determined to create a piece that explored Irish history and Irish identity that was engaging, enjoyable and impactful. 

The main thing I took from Lindsay's feedback was to take risks and to be proud of those risks. By choosing a topic that is still, even today, very raw to some people (both at home and here in England) this was on my mind constantly during the creative process when devising and sculpting the piece. However, as Lindsay says above I was the person to do this and to do this well. I had to believe in myself as someone who was raised during the aftermath of The Troubles who has a right to talk openly about growing up in the country where it happened. I had to stop thinking about other people in some ways and focus on ensuring the story being told was my story, and not a story other people want me to tell. The hard part in doing so was ensuring Paige's story was also getting told. However, one of the feedback points from the scratch was that it came across offstage to the audience that Paige won the argument - and this was not something I wanted to happen again with the newly developed version of the show. I wanted both parties to get an equal opportunity to share their opinion and not overshadow, or dominate the conversation taking place. Thus, by doing so this would demonstrate the passion and beliefs of both Catholics and Protestants in Ireland today.