#i was shaking for the whole code segment

[glowsticcc]

parental instinct

[cr0g-0]

Has anyone thought about Hamlet? Ever. Guys I'm sorry for the insufferable person I will become.

Hamlet Machine is an eleven page play that deconstructs Hamlet by throwing Ophelia and Hamlet and Horatio and Claudius and Gertrude and Polonius at a wall, and picking up pieces and constructing them, combined with the political discussion of revolution, and patriarchal power.

It is a play(art piece) that requires multiple reads to start fully digesting it (digesting kings/ij). I will attempt to go through the first scene/soliloquy/whatever-the-fuck-scene-one-of-Hamletmachine-is and attempt to get intrigue from people.

The first scene is called Family Album. Hamlet's actor/Hamlet goes through his family. It's comfortable for a few moments before being thrust into loud a grotesque discussion. It details King Hamlet's funeral.

Hamlet is talking about the fact that his uncle (Claudius) has sullied Gertrude. But the notion of Hamlet saying "FLESH AND FLESH GLADLY JOIN TOGETHER" is an important part and "SHOULD I HELP YOU [,] UNCLE [?] OPEN YOUR LEGS MAMA" (punctuation added for clarity).

Sex is prevalent in this whole entire mindfuck. It's how Hamlet thinks and talks about sex that is what I believe to be notable and important

NOW, before I continue, I'd like to say that this is simply MY interpretation of Hamlet Machine and how I believe it contextualizes Hamlet and Hamlet(Character). You may have differing beliefs on this and thats okay <3.

Continuing on, I'll put the rest below the cut as it talks about sexual assault and abuse and incest

Hamlet is very open about not wanting to be alive in this segment. He expresses that he does not wish to have been born. He is very clear with that regarding "I'd have been spared. Women should be seen shut, a world without mothers." Hamlet is very queer coded as a character and I clock him as being seen as more feminine and less masculine. He loves his mother but that love for her is robbed by men in power (Claudius and to an extent, Polonius and Rosencrantz and Guildenstern whom I'll shorten to R&G)

"What do you want from me? Is one state funeral not enough for you, old deadbeat? Do you have no blood on your shoes?" Hamlet expresses grief and confusion of his father and his death and from what I glean from this, his relationship in regards to his father was also bad. Do you have no blood on your shoes, in my opinion, is in reference to the fact that Hamlet's father did kill people and caused as many problems as Claudius does and did. "What do I care about your corpse? Be happy that the handle is sticking out; perhaps you'll go to heaven. What are you waiting for? The cocks have been slaughtered. Morning is cancelled." Hamlet is asking rhetorical, as Hamlet was shown in the play to care a great deal about the IDEA of his father. That's the point. His father is now a concept, an idea that literally haunts him and follows him, not going to heaven. Morning is deliberately not spelled mourning but it most certainly references Hamlets confused feeling of grief.

Morning is once again referenced and in this case, Hamlet references the fact that it is blank aside for blood. the sky and morning represent Hamlet's thinking and thoughts he has, bloody thoughts.

"YOU COME TOO LATE MY FRIEND FOR YOUR PAYCHECK/ NO SPACE FOR YOU IN MY TRAGEDY PLAY. Horatio, do you know me?" Hamlet believe in earnest that Horatio doesn't truly care for him. Like R&G, he is essentially a pawn that Claudius uses. Horatio as a character in the play functions to reveal the story and give plausible reason as to why it is told in the first place (Act 5 scene 2).

Oh boy, the paragraph that got me stuck on this fucking play.

"Do you want to play Polonius, who wants to sleep with his daughter, the charming Ophelia, she comes on her cue line, see how she shakes her ass, a tragic role." Hamlet/Hamlet's Actor views sex very poorly. He almost sees it as revolting. He also sees sexual behavior or perceived sexual behavior as abhorrent as well. Polonius is a man in power who has control. Ophelia is seen as property due to the time of the play, but Hamlet Machine contextualizes it from the perspective of incest and sexual abuse.

Hamlet then proceeds to discuss his mother. "My Mother the bride. Her breasts a bed of roses, her womb a nest of snakes. Have you forgotten your text, Mama? I'll prompt: WASH THE MURDER OFF YOUR FACE MY PRINCE/ AND MAKE EYES AT THE NEW DENMARK. I'll make you virgin again, Mother, so the king can have a bloody wedding. THE MOTHER'S WOMB IS NOT A ONE WAY STREET."

Once again, womens nature (specifically his mothers) is vilified and made to be a threat. He enjoys qualities of women, but not the anatomy. He also believes his mother to be impure (due to the marriage of Claudius and Gertrude). In the play, Hamlet typically calls Claudius incestous, which always struck me as odd. Because it isn't incest, especially if Gertrude was from a different kingdom before. Claudius and Gertrudes marriage isn't even out of line for the time, seeing as it wasn't and odd practice to marry the widow of a sibling to keep the power, especially if the heir is believed to be unprepared.

But if you view it as Hamlet having an aversion because of past experiences with Claudius, be it getting very physical or just emotional incest, would still leave a lasting impression. Hamlet having this deranged seeming view of virginity and being new and pure can be seen in a different light when you look at it from that lens. It only gets worse.

"Now, I tie your hands behind your back with your bridal veil since I'm disgusted by your embrace. Now, I tear apart the wedding dress. Now you must scream. Now I smear the rags of your wedding dress with the earth my Father has become, with the rags your face your belly your breasts. Now, I take you, my mother, in his, my father's invisible tracks. I strangle your scream with my lips. Do You recognize the fruit of your body? Now go to your wedding, whore, bright in the Danish sun which shines on the living and the dead. I want to stuff the corpse in the toilet so that the palace chokes in kingly shit. Then let me eat your heart, Ophelia, which cries my tears."

Hamlet vividly describes assaulting his mother because he finds her disgusting. He tells her how she is supposed to act, what she is supposed to do when he says it. And he claims that this is for his father. It is to please a man who is dead and who Hamlet believes should be there and so he simply is doing what his father would do. He is influenced by powerful men in power. The last segment is bitter. Fruit of your body is a reference to the fact that he is her son, but also once again ties into Hamlets disdain of being alive. When he discusses shoving his fathers corpse into a toilet, I believe it to be bitter and angry. His father hurt him in some way, and he believes that even after death, he should be desecrated. And then he asks if he can eat Ophelia's heart. "Which cries my tears". It is frowned upon for men to be emotional but also to cry and men are viewed as weak when they are assaulted. If Hamlet was abused in such ways, this craving being different or dead is important to recognize as cries for help.

Ophelia's one of three scenes of the play/art peice/yk is one that is like. 0.5% more understandable upon just one read through. It is ophelia, alongside many women represented by her, taking back her life. "Yesterday I stopped Killing myself" its aboit taking agency and pride back in yourself and it is Ophelia choosing freedom. burning old clothes and the bed being her prison are clearly in references to sexual assault and putting it into the context of the play , especially with the lens of incest being a core theme, it leads people to question Polonius's motives for keeping her from Hamlet and the influence he exudes over her.

Anyway! That's my analysis for the first two scenes. I will probably make a scene three analysis later down the line.

[princessbettina]

Love of Your Life: Dashing Cody Rhodes x Fem!Reader

Summary: When you and Dashing Cody Rhodes meet for the first time, that’s when you realize you may have found the love of your life.

♡Warnings: None-2010's WWE (around the years of 2010-2012-No particular year order)-Fluffy stuff like usual.

♡Apologies if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes in this.

♡Gif border credit goes to V6que

It was your first day of your new job as a professional woman's wrestler in the WWE. You got along perfectly with every other superstar you met backstage and trained with. 

You absolutely loved the atmosphere and the whole performance vibe. It brought adrenaline and excitement within you. Getting to stand backstage and watch the other wrestlers in which you'd befriended and prepared for your own matches, too was another thing in which you enjoyed. 

As time went on and the more matches you had, meant more eyes were drawn on you, especially from one you didn't expect. 

One day, you were standing backstage alongside your friend,Natalya. The two of you watched one of the male talents on the screen who was out performing and informing everyone why taking care of yourself and participating in self care is so important. 

The two of you thought that the character that your friend on the roster was portraying at this time was hilarious, especially how tonight he gave a toothbrush out to a young child sitting in the crowd. 

 "Did Cody really just give a child a toothbrush?" Natalya asked through a giggle. You quickly nodded and laughed, too. 

 

"I think we can both agree that we saw him do that. What was with the mouthwash, too?" 

Natalya shrugged her shoulders as you two continued to laugh as you watched more of Dashing Cody Rhodes on the TV screen backstage. 

Since your first day of becoming a wwe wrestler, you and Cody became great friends and got along perfectly like everyone else in the company. 

The two of you greeted each other every time you saw each other with a wave and a smile that always shined bright. 

You were surprised by all the things Cody and you had in common. Your friendship with him blossomed, and it warmed your heart so much.

Every time you watched Cody perform his "Dashing" character, it excited you as it was the highlight of your week. 

Even though at first, you didn't quite get his character but thankfully, over time, you started to understand it and thought it was really entertaining and fun to watch.

 Cody also gave it his all in his characters, and you could definitely see that with this one as well. 

Natalya and you continued to watch your friend Cody as he proceeded to make his way up the ramp and held out another toothbrush he had pulled out from his jacket. 

 

"God, save the Queen. And God, save your teeth!" Dashing Cody announced clearly before smirking out at the crowd as everyone laughed and cheered him before he made his way backstage as his segment was over for the night. 

The moment you heard what Cody said, you couldn't control the soft laughter that escaped your mouth and could feel your face get warmer than usual. 

Your friend Natalya took notice of your behavior as she chuckled softly. "Oh my gosh, Y/n, you're blushing!" 

You playfully protested Natalya by shaking your head in disagreement. Continuing your laughter and as your face felt warmer. 

 

"No, I'm not, Nattie! I wasn't expecting Codes to say something that hilarious. I mean, come on, you heard him. It was so funny." You rambled on as Natalya kept smiling at you. She knew that when you ramble on, it usually means that you're in love. 

 "I hate to burst your bubble, Y/n, but you are. Your face is as red as a tomato, and whenever you ramble on, it's because you're crushing on someone." Said Natalya with a wink. 

You playfully looked down at the floor for a moment, shaking your head, and quickly raised your head back up and looked at her once more. 

 "I think I might have actually found the love of my life, Nattie!" You confessed before realizing what you just said. Covering your mouth with your hand as Natalya widened her eyes and smiled brightly than before. 

 

"I knew it! Natalya is never wrong!" said Natalya, boasting about her correct observation. Playfully pointing her finger at you and jumping up and down in the process.

All you could do was smile softly while glancing down at the floor as Natalya kept giggling. 

 

"I think you should talk to Cody, Y/n. Who knows, something magical could happen between you two." Natalya suggested as the biggest smile on your face was again painted on your face. 

You knew what you wanted to do next, even though it made you burn nervous butterflies in your stomach. 

You found yourself standing in front of a mirror that was placed randomly in a hallway in the arena where you stayed while waiting for your cue to go out to the ring. 

Seconds after you stood in front of the mirror and began to admire yourself, you felt a presence walk up from behind you in a proper manner, of course. 

You gasped softly before taking a sigh of relief when you saw it was your friend, Cody. But not just Cody. Dashing Cody to be exact.

The moment Cody saw you was when he smirked at you through the mirror, causing you to blush. 

 "Hey, Dashing! Boy, am I glad to see you. Would you be willing to maybe show me how to floss my teeth properly again? You're the expert on these things." 

Cody raised his eyebrow before smirking at you. He softly chuckled, which ended up causing you to blush to yourself as you felt yourself falling in love with him all over again. 

 

"Why of course! Ask and you shall receive." Cody winked at you before opening the floss pack and stripping away a piece of floss. 

He then held the floss close to his mouth and showed his pearly gorgeous teeth as he looked directly at you through the mirror. 

 

"Whatcha wanna do now is carefully place the floss in between the space of your teeth and delicately move it up and down for a second or two and repeat that for every other tooth." 

As soon as he spoke, you watched as Cody went in with the floss and delicately cleaned his teeth. You couldn't help but giggle and smile brightly at him. 

 

"That was impressive. I definitely will remember that. You really are a wonderful teacher. Thank you, Cody!" 

The Dashing man himself continued to smirk, which turned into a bright smile at you, basking in your real and honest compliments. 

 "Thank you, Y/n! I know about the little crush you have on me. Your cute behavior is obviously adorable. I've seen how you are whenever I'm around, and truthfully, it's really cute." Cody stated, leaving you in a small state of surprise, your mouth fell open agape. 

How on earth did Cody know about the crush you have on him? 

"This has started to make me realize I might have a crush on you too," Cody confessed, leaving you speechless. 

You couldn't believe your ears. The man you had a crush on also had the same feelings for you, too. The blush on your face came back once more, as did the smile on your face as well. 

 "I don't know what to say, Cody." You said speechlessly. 

 

"You don't have to say anything unless you actually don't want to be my girlfriend." Cody replied, still smiling up at you. 

Hearing the question statement he asked really left you speechless. Your mind was spinning in a good way. 

 

"I would be honored to be your girlfriend, Codes. You really do make me happy, and I think you’re dashing, too." 

At that same moment, you swear you saw a tint of blush appear on Cody's face. A sight that truly made your heart flutter. 

Cody gently held your hand in yours and rose it up to his lips where he would then place a kiss atop of your hand. 

 "Right back at you, and I think you’re almost at the same level of dashing as I am, maybe even more, beautiful." Cody winked at you once more, leaving you speechless even more now. Your heart was head over heels excited. 

You really did feel like one of the luckiest girls alive. 

-the end

Thank you for reading! I really hope you enjoyed it. This was my first Dashing Cody Rhodes story, and I actually really enjoyed writing it. A very special thank you and shout-out goes to my beautiful and talented to the moon and back, best friend!! She was the one who once again helped me come up with this story and the idea to write it, and without her, I probably wouldn’t have written this. She's the best!!! I love you so much! You know who you are <3 <3 As always, I will see you in my next story! ♡

[keaalu]

Ghosts, chapter two

Where Owun talks A LOT and makes this chapter twice as long as I intended it. Oh well.

-----------------

For several excruciatingly long seconds, the two zeroids just stared at each other. 

Built to the same standard, they were dimensionally identical, like a giant ball-bearing sliced into perfect layers, with the same scrolling scarlet optic display and protective visual shutters (currently pulled partway closed on the stranger), and asset number clear on the brow.

It felt a little – but only a little – like staring into a mirror. Owun found himself at a loss to explain why this unfamiliar zeroid seemed to be trying (badly) to mimic him? And where had he even come from? Owun was fairly sure he’d have noticed extra zeroids on board. Was this some new trickery from Zelda?

More importantly, this strange zeroid had Owun’s personal registry ident. His identification code, communication frequency, ship’s server access. Everything.

Even if someone could have snuck a whole extra zeroid aboard without him seeing them, Owun was just a few millionths of a percent off totally confident that he’d have noticed that.

The other zeroid looked just as startled to see him, rotated very slightly backwards in alarm. He was scruffier; not quite as well-cared-for, not so perfect and smooth, with a selection of little dings and tiny dents at the margins of his segments. Could do with a good bath and a polish, too, to get rid of some of the stains and scuffs. His brow-band was a muted dusky pink compared to Owun’s sports-car scarlet, like he’d been left out in the sun for too long, faded and chipped. It also lacked the sergeant’s stripes – just had his number, in black, off-centre to the left.

Owun’s number.

1 0 1

Owun revised his opinion. This wasn’t a mirror; it was how he imagined he’d look if he was a ghost. Abandoned, ignored, uncared for. Sad and scruffy, left to his own devices and as a result, rather losing interest in looking after himself. Haunting the maintenance corridors of this dead ship.

No, that was ridiculous. He gave himself a little shake. There was no such thing as ghosts. Besides, that would mean he was dead, wouldn’t it? And he sure didn’t feel dead. (Although to be fair, having only been dead once before, he didn’t have the best frame of reference for what that might feel like. That couldn’t possibly have been what that sharp sensation had been, earlier. He hadn’t blown up, by accidentally interacting with the energy source. It hadn’t been him dying dramatically and ending up in some weird machine afterlife. That was obviously ridiculous because surely that meant he was supposed to be the ghost?)

No such thing as ghosts, he emphasised to himself, still staring at the totally-not-a-ghost.

The other zeroid was the one to finally break the silence. “Who are you? Why have I never seen you before?” he said, as though hearing his mirror’s thoughts. There was a flutter of familiarity about his voice, but it was softer than Owun’s, the accent gentler and flatter. Polite and meek and inoffensive and so flaming bland. “How did you get in here?”

“Through the door? The way I always do? What’s going on?” Owun did a whole rotation on the spot. “What’s wrong with Spacehawk? Is someone playing a prank on me?”

“A pr-… no? Nothing’s wrong with it. Why do you have my number?”

Owun bristled. “Well, hey. How about we talk about why YOU have MINE?” He elevated his voice and glanced around the passageway, looking for hidden cameras. “If this is your idea of a joke, Zee-ro, you can just go stick something sharp in a power outlet!”

No-one appeared, though – and the ghost actually shushed him, urgently, looking genuinely alarmed.

“Not so loud! He’ll hear us.” He dropped his own volume and cast his gaze around himself, anxiously. “Master doesn’t like it when we play at being human. When we talk to each other. Not what we were designed for.”

Master? “Who are you talking about?” A further tingle of unease made Owun’s casing prickle with static. He couldn’t be talking about Hiro, surely. It felt absurd. Hiro would never let himself be called master. Would he?

But then Spacehawk wasn’t meant to look like this, either, was she – the big guns, the dark camouflage paint, the lack of other zeroids.

And then there was the whole… Earth’s official clock being incorrect. Or too correct. Or whatever.

This was all very, very wrong and seemed determined to get even wronger by the second.

Maybe he was dead, after all.

The ghost shifted on the spot, uneasily, and ignored the question. “Was that you calling the ship?”

“I- you heard me? Why didn’t you reply?”

“Because you sounded a bit-… like-… you sounded like-… I didn’t dare.” It was like the ghost couldn’t quite force the words out. You sounded like me. “Then Spacehawk reported that the airlock was active. I had to investigate.” An apprehensive side-to-side flutter of the optics. “I hoped it was just a fault, because Spacehawk said it was me that had triggered it, but I was on the flight deck and I knew I hadn’t.”

Owun rocked backwards, alarmed. Wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. That siren was definitely getting hard to ignore now. “That’s not possible. How can you have been on the flight deck? There’s no way Lieutenant Hiro would have just let you in there! I know humans sometimes have trouble telling us apart but anyone could have spotted that you’re not me! You’re all…” He shook his head. “-scruffy and faded! What’s Zelda even trying to do?”

“Why are you asking me that when she clearly built you?” The ghost backed off a whole rotation. “Did she send you here to replace me? How did the witch even get my command codes? Did she finally hack Spacehawk’s core? Ohh.”

…wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong…

It is, and you know it, but you can’t focus on that now, sweetie, Owun scolded himself. You have to work out what the heck IS going on. How they could have built a whole new flaming Spacehawk and put it here to trick you somehow.

You’re not dead. You’re not dead.

The ghost gave a soft whimper of fright. “I’ll be in so much trouble if he finds out you got aboard so easily and I didn’t stop you-!”

“Then we better figure this out before anyone goes anywhere, right?” Owun interrupted, trying to give the impression of confidence even if he felt a million miles away from it. “So let’s stop answering questions with more questions. We’re going round in circles and I get enough of that from Zero.” He matched stares with his ghost. “I was built in Japan, like everyone else, by humans. They gave me the codes I use to access Spacehawk’s systems. I’ve had my keys since I was commissioned. I use them every day. Your turn: where did you come from?”

“But I’d have known it they were building more. They said they’d run out of the raw materials. You can’t have-…”

Huh. Still pedantic, even as a frightened ghost.

Seeing Owun’s unimpressed expression, the impostor gave himself a little shake. “I mean. I’ve not… come from anywhere? I belong here? I’ve been here since I was first turned on. I’m the ship’s liaison?”

“Liaison? What does that even mean? You mean sergeant, right?”

The ghost gave him a very long stare, as if to say you’re the one claiming to be me, you should know. “I pass on the humans’ instructions, and ensure they are carried out. I monitor for dangers and alert the humans so they can respond to them. I was specially programmed for supervisory, organisational and observational activities.”

It did sort of feel right, Owun mused? Zelda must have programmed him using what she mined from my memories when she stole me.

But that idea only went part of the way to explaining what was going on, and there was something big missing. “And… command? Right?” he prompted. “If you’re alone, you can take charge of the situation. Command the other zeroids. Repel threats, resolve problems. Without needing to wait for the humans to get up here.” At the strange look he was getting, he added, hopefully; “…Right?”

The impostor shifted again, uncomfortably. “I’m sorry. If Zelda programmed you, that might explain why you’re so confused? I can imagine how she might not have access to enough data to make you behave convincingly but-”

“No. No! Stop talking like that!” Owun rocked forwards into a glare – vaguely insulted as well as scared, now. “There’s nothing wrong with my behaviour!”

His ghost cringed away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. I just meant, you’re not convincingly being like me. That’s all. If that was Zelda’s plan, it’s not working very well. Even if you looked more like me, you’ll never convince anyone, behaving like that.”

“I’m not trying to convince anyone anything! I don’t need to! You’re the impostor! First that debris, and now this-…” Owun’s words momentarily tailed off. A whole new alarm had started to chirp amongst all the other klaxons in his head. “It was bait, wasn’t it! To get me off the ship. She knew I’d spot you, otherwise. That was when Zelda snuck you aboard! She planted you here, to-to…” Do what, space sergeant? Replace the whole damn ship when your back was turned? He shifted, uneasily. “What is she doing that she wants to try to distract me from seeing? What’s happening out there while we’re wasting time arguing?!”

“Debris? I don’t understand. You’re scaring me, a little bit-”

You’re not the only one, Owun thought, but didn’t vocalise it. “I need to get back to the flight deck. Lieutenant Hiro needs to know about all this. He’ll never fall for whatever garbage plan Zelda’s trying. He knows who I am, and we trust each other totally. He’ll back me up. And he’ll be able to figure out what’s going on.”

“No!” The strange zeroid parked himself in the middle of the corridor. “You can’t go through there.”

Owun felt the urge to butt him out of the way. “Move over. Now!”

“Please. Don’t.” His ghost looked genuinely fearful. “Not until we’ve worked out- I mean. I’ll get in trouble if master finds you. If he finds out you got aboard on my watch, I’ll be punished-! Please.”

There was that word again: Master. And I’ll be punished. Well, that tallied with this scaredy mouse being one of Zelda’s creations.

The ghost might be a poor-quality copy of the real thing, but Owun couldn’t help that tiny kernel of sympathy crystallising in his little electronic heart for this pathetic, broken zeroid. Wherever he came from, and whatever they wanted him to do, he didn’t deserve to be so sad and scared.

Well aware that might have been part of the plan, preying on the kind nature of the earth‘s protectors, Owun nevertheless reluctantly backed down. (The alarm bells ringing in his head didn’t get any quieter.) “So what do you propose we do? We can’t stay down here forever, arguing over who’s the real 101.”

They stared at each other for several seconds.

“If Zelda made you, maybe we can help you?” the ghost offered, hesitantly. “We could fix your programming! There’s always going to be room for more zeroids here. If I say I found you, and stopped you before you could carry out your plan, that would work for both of us. I won’t get in as much trouble, and if we repair you, you won’t be under the witch’s control, any more.”

If he pretended to go along with it, would that be the key Owun needed to get this scared little ghost to come with him to talk to Hiro? “I trust that Hiro will know what to do,” he agreed, carefully. “He’s the cleverest person in the whole solar system. If either of us is broken, he can fix it. And-… he might know why everything else looks wrong, as well. Maybe we can help you, too. You don’t have to do what Zelda says, you know? Even if Zelda made you, she must have used a bad copy of my programming for it. That means you can choose-”

That turned out to have been an unexpectedly bad choice of words.

“No! No, that’s not how it works.” The ghost shuffled away backwards, shaking his head in alarm. “That’s not how it works! Zeroids do not choose. Zeroids are good robots and do what they are told. You need imaginations to make decisions and we don’t have that. I am a good zeroid. I am a good zeroid-!”

“Oh, whoa, okay! Don’t do that, don’t do that! I never said you were bad! Oh, gosh. Um.” Good job Owun, get the stranger to have a meltdown in the maintenance tubes. “Please don’t get upset. I just meant-… I just-”

Well, what did you mean? Or were you just not thinking, again. Seeing as literally nothing has gone right since you made the choice to get just that little bit too close to the thing. Maybe you’re the one who should be taking notes, and stop making decisions.

For a few seconds, the only sound was the whir of fans, trying to cool hot, stressed components.

But you’re not dead.

Are you.

Are you sure.

Suddenly feeling stupidly heavy with the weight of all this confusion squishing him against the deck, Owun rocked askew and clonked into the wall. “Ohh. What’s going on.” The ghost was right about one thing – zeroid imagination was terrible. “Why does none of this look right? Nothing makes sense any more.” He’d run out of ideas. He needed Hiro. Wanted Hiro. It all felt so difficult, on his own.

Hard to convince yourself you’re clever enough to figure it out for yourself when your own mirror image is sitting right there, staring you straight in the eye, daring you to think you have the brains for it without a genuine human imagination to help.

He could feel himself wobbling – emotionally, physically, stressed and scared.

No, no, don’t do that. Come on; you’ve done so well so far. Don’t go and spoil it all by turning into a sissy crybaby NOW. He gave himself a stern little shake. One of you needs to be the strong one and he freaks out at just the idea of making choices.

“Okay, okay,” he said to himself, then once more for luck. “Okay.” He pulsed his fans and ran cool air through his systems. “Maybe I just need to look at the ship’s databases again. If I can see a bit more, maybe I can figure this out without Hiro. At least a little bit.”

“Don’t connect to Spacehawk,” the ghost said, hastily. “Master will see you.”

“Maybe I could connect to you, then?” Owun suggested, hesitantly. “If you’ll trust me?”

“Trust you?” His ghost actually backed off a whole rotation, aghast. “You think you are me! If you’re not just really terribly genuinely confused, then Zelda sent you to replace me. What a perfect way to infiltrate our ship! Hijack my brain by uploading some malware into it!”

“Oh for goodness-… I’m not here to replace you. You have antivirus software, don’t you?”

They stared at each other for several seconds before the ghost spoke again – trying to assert some sort of authority, even though his voice trembled. “I’m keeping my firewall at full strength and I’ll disconnect you as soon as you do anything I don’t like.”

“Good. So there is a tiny bit of self-preservation about you, after all. Now sit still.” Owun quietly hunted around for a connector so they could link up.

That first connection was sharp and uncomfortable, like sticking a plug into the wrong port. Owun had to fight the urge to immediately disconnect; it felt like he’d somehow connected himself to himself, threatening to turn his thoughts into an endless feedback loop. What would normally be an exchange of confirmation data in an amiable electronic handshake between two zeroids felt more like an angry punch. Instant pushback.

Error. Duplicated code. Disconnect immediately. Feedback cascade loop imminent.

It bounced back and forth for a few microseconds, a flood of error codes overflowing out of his temporary memory and threatening to overwrite more important things. Had he just done exactly what Zelda planned, and allowed the impostor to infiltrate his brain? He hastily rejected the data transfer and clicked more firewalls up, hoping he’d been quick enough – they’d kept a bunch of over-friendly nosey cubes out, hopefully they’d keep martian-controlled zeroids out as well.

After that initial deluge passed, and the instant of sense-blindness cleared, it all felt nice and secure, actually? Not an attack – just a mistake. Nothing was needling around the edges, trying to get in. Nothing had been left behind in his brain, either – no malicious codes hidden among the scream of duplicated data.

Finally getting over that instant of icy shock, he turned to his ghost – and found he had jolted away just as hard, and now sat with his shutters closed, vibrating softly in fear.

“Hey. Hey.” Owun gave him a little bump, suddenly feeling inordinately proud of himself for just flinching a bit. So brave! (Yeah, right.) “You okay in there?”

“Fff-feedback loop-” the other zeroid stuttered, discordant. “How-how is this how is this possible. What what’s going on I can’t see what how had you got all my codes everything is wrong it’s all the same and fighting itself and what did you upload in my head I can’t see I can’t see-”

“I didn’t upload anything. It just doesn’t like how similar we are. Reject the handshake. I’m dialling down the transfer rate on my end. You’ll be fine. Shut your connection, clear your caches, and start again, just… slower.”

Owun took advantage of the second of calm while his ghost got himself back under control to assess the situation. Really get a good thorough look at the impostor’s coding.

The ghost was telling the truth, at least. He had been here for several years, ever since Spacehawk became operational. Which meant… what? What could it mean?

Then there was the fact that everything about him – apart from a very obvious missing component – was identical.

Not just a good counterfeit.

Identical.

For several seconds, they just stared at each other. Then spoke, simultaneously: “You are me.”

“But how is that possible?” the ghost demanded, before Owun could get a word in. “You can’t be me. I’m me! Why are they doing this to me?”

“I could say the same about you! Where have they been hiding you, all these years? Is that why you’re such a scruffbag, because they’ve been keeping you in a closet somewhere?”

“No? No! I haven’t been anywhere! I’ve been here, working hard, doing a good job, the whole time! And you know that because you’ve looked at my logs.” The ghost’s voice was turning into a frightened wail, now he couldn’t just dismiss Owun as a forgery. “Why are you me? Why are you me? I know they’re never happy with my work even though I try really hard to do a good job but they didn’t have to replace me!”

Still connected, Owun could feel the panic welling up inside the other zeroid.

“I could have done better! I can do better! I am a good zeroid! I don’t need to be scrapped! Especially not to replace me with the likes of you! You’re just… loud, and rude!” His words died in a helpless mew of distress.

“Well, aren’t you just a peach when you’re not hiding behind little sergeant polite-and-perfect?”

“Stop it! Don’t make light of it!” Another sound bordering on a sob. “I don’t want to be scrapped-! I am a good zeroid-!”

They were still connected, and the other zeroid’s panic was bleeding across the link. Heavy, destabilising, genuine fear, it was triggering involuntary responses in Owun’s systems, as well. Alarm flushed his circuits and made him feel like his gyroscopes were malfunctioning. Weapons systems steadily all clicked online – a low-level distracting need to plug into Spacehawk and work out where the enemy was, how to fight back, how to protect his humans. It felt like there was someone right down here with them, looming up behind him-

Owun struggled to regain control of his targeting software before he got to the point of taking potshots at the unfamiliar hardware down here. “Hey! Nobody’s getting scrapped. Why are you going right to the worst case scenario already?”

“Because you’re right here! How can this be anything at all other than the worst case scenario?!”

And it didn’t feel like overthinking – the ghost was genuinely terrified of being removed and taken apart, as a punishment.

By the humans.

No, the humans had promised, we will never take you apart. Even when he’d screwed up, granted his people had been cross, but told him not to do it again and accepted it as a learning event. The idea that this zeroid thought humans could possibly ever do anything like that gave Owun the surges.

He tried to push reassuring, stabilising thoughts across the link, even though he didn’t feel that relaxed and stable himself.

I have to get him back. Everything Owun was trying to avoid looking at, he was just going to have to deal with – otherwise this mousy little idiot was gonna end up blowing a fuse down here, and then what would they do?

“All right! You’re right! I-I think I’m not meant to be here! I might be the impostor!”

The words hurt to finally acknowledge, but had the desired effect. The ghost’s babble faded, a touch.

“I don’t even really know where here is. It all looks so familiar, but not right. Spacehawk’s too quiet, I should be able to hear more zeroids than just you.”

Fright still bled over their connection, but at least now his mirror was looking at him again, not quite so blind with fear.

“And you! We can’t possibly be the same age, with all the same code, and not know the other existed. Even if they’d hidden us from each other, for… reasons…” -you came on too strong you overbearing little asshole of course he doesn’t want you and made a replacement- “…they couldn’t possibly have kept it up for over seven years without something slipping.”

“So what is all this, then, clever clogs?” the ghost retorted, scared and hurt; finally a tiny familiar flicker of sass showing through that meek shell.

“I don’t know.” Owun sagged. “Normally I’d ask Hiro, but you said not to and I didn’t want you to go and short out. I don’t even know that this is all real. Or even if you’re real? Maybe it’s all just a simulation? Probably it’s a simulation? A complicated one, but not real.”

“Well it doesn’t feel like much of one to me. I think I feel pretty real, thank you very much.”

“No, it doesn’t, but I don’t know what one would feel like, and I don’t know how I’d know the difference. I just know that too much matches up with what I remember, but not enough. And I don’t know how all the bits that don’t match up could have been changed so fast?” Owun pondered things, for a moment. “Maybe I changed something? Maybe interacting with the energy source did something bad. Energy doesn’t just come out of nowhere, unless-… did I break reality by going near it?”

Had reality already changed, with the explosion, before he even left the ship? And was continuing to do so around him? Was he the only real thing left?

“I don’t have enough data to answer any of that,” the ghost replied, in the quiet. “And I don’t think you’d believe me even if I did.”

In an absurd impulsive show of faith, Owun dropped his firewall, leaving just enough filters up to stop that crashing assault of error codes when his systems recoiled from connecting to himself. “Well, maybe we need to both get a proper look,” he said, trying to affect a jovial tone. (Maybe it’d keep him from looking for a corner to cry in, too.) “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

The ghost gave him a very serious stare, but then diverted his attention inward. Owun felt a flutter of response over the connector as he similarly dialled down his security – still only allowing access to very top-level stuff, clearly saying I don’t trust you THAT much, but enough for Owun to evaluate his capabilities.

Owun had already spotted something obvious when they’d first connected, but now took a closer look. This zeroid was not only completely unarmed, it didn’t look like he’d ever had a gun, as the requisite algorithms just weren’t there. No digital rangefinding, no strategy modules, no battle calculators. He could calculate parallax, but only to see how far away things were in relation to the ship – not to be able to then defend them from them.

The ghost spotted the same thing. “You have a weapon?”

“Of course. It’s what we were built for. Most zeroids are soldiers, right? So why don’t you have one?”

“I… don’t need one?”

“But how do you defend yourself?” Owun didn’t feel sure if he really wanted to know.

“From what?”

“From… anything dangerous? From Zelda?”

“I think if she got aboard we would have bigger problems to worry about than me not having a gun. It’s easier for the humans to have those. They can shoot for themselves, not have to rely on a machine to evaluate their options first.”

“And… when you’re… not aboard?”

“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“…you never leave the ship?”

“Why would I need to? It’s not what I was designed for. I’m the liaison. It’s important for me to be aboard, relaying human instructions to the others. If I wasn’t aboard, none of us would know what to do.”

Seeing how badly the other zeroid had reacted before, Owun almost didn’t want to ask. He tried to send reassuring thoughts through the link. “So does… does Lieutenant Hiro not let you make decisions like that? So you can evaluate for yourself how to keep everyone safe?”

At the sound of the man’s name, the other zeroid actually flinched, but managed to keep his head otherwise. “My master does not allow that, no. It is not the place for machines to make decisions. Only humans have the imagination needed for that.”

My master.

“He-he’s still your friend, though, right?” Owun chased. “Right? Because that’s how the universe works. We’re always going to be besties because that’s just how it is. Right?”

Please tell me he’s your friend. Even if everything else has changed, that has to be the same.

His ghost stayed silent for so long that Owun didn’t need to hear him answer. “I… would not define him as a friend,” he demurred, softly. “I am not sure I have any of those.”

A shiver of something like despair flashed through him. What the hell have you done, Owun. “What about Zero, then? If everything else is so weird and backwards, now, surely you get on with him?”

“...who?”

Owun felt cold. “What do you mean, who? Sergeant Major Zero, that noisy blustering idiot always getting us in trouble with his terrible advice? Is there no-one in charge of the earth zeroids?”

“There are no other zeroids. It’s just us up here. Thirty five of us left. We stay in orbit so we can be deployed more quickly to specific areas of the planet, or elsewhere. Well, except me.”

“Thirty five,” Owun echoed, faintly. “What happened to all the rest?”

“Destroyed in action, mostly. A few accidents. Some were faulty. The prototypes were deconstructed for research. And the humans ran out of iranium crystals.”

Zero is dead. ‘Deconstructed’. Was that a punishment, too? The concept hit Owun harder than he’d thought it would and for a few seconds, he couldn’t speak at all.

No friends. And hardly any of them left. It felt a little like one of his worst dreams, where in spite of all his best efforts everyone said he was just an annoying little pedant, and no-one liked him. Where even the humans were just humouring him, at best. Even Hiro was just putting up with him, for a quiet life. And this sad, scared little mouse was living it.

Please let this be a simulation. It’s just Zelda, torturing you for being a little round nightmare who keeps causing her problems-

“Your turn,” the ghost said, sternly, in the pause. “Or was that another trick, to get me to talk.”

Owun pushed the black thoughts to the back of his processors and gave himself a little shake. “All right.” His voice was still a little staticky, betraying his emotions, but neither called attention to it. “No secrets, right?”

He opened his memory, and let the ghost look where he liked, figuring it couldn’t be any worse than that time he’d had cubes rooting around in his brain.

The sensation was familiarly weird, individual memories being accessed without him doing it, dragging him along behind it. It was thousands of times faster than real time, but still accompanied by distracting little burst of residual emotion; a pulse of intense sorrow – a flash of bad temper – a bright spark of glee.

“I don’t recognise what you are showing me,” the ghost said, hesitating on a recent memory of the flight deck. “This is a battleship, why would there be plants-… I don’t understand?”

It took Owun a second to get his bearings again. “Lieutenant Hiro likes them. He studies them.”

“He-… he what? Plants? Dirty, untidy things like those?”

Owun felt his mirror image chase deeper, trying to understand, looking for anything coded Hiro and plants.

He obviously didn’t have very far to look – and of course he’d fetch up on one of their minor disagreements. The ghost flinched hard when he stumbled across the file, and then got stuck, rooted to the spot in it. “But his uniform is wrong. He-he’s letting you talk back to him. This is all wrong. It’s fake. Why is this even in your head?”

He clearly needed some steering. Owun carefully took charge, gently nudging him away, then on through his memories. “I need to show you what I need to save. Why it’s important to understand what I might have broken.”

First, a handful of thoughts from when he hadn’t been online for very long, just interacting with the human in orbit with him, who was giving him instructions. His director, providing cues for what to do and when; okay fine, his master. Not even a friend, really; Owun’s rudimentary intelligence far too basic to understand what that meant. His own exasperation at the way he was being tasked with talking to plants while his commander was absent, and not something which actually fell into his duty set – and what was he even meant to talk to them about? – but being rewarded with kind words and praise for doing so. Oh, I like this.

Slowly being allowed to stretch his abilities. Encouraged to think for himself. Make decisions. Make choices. What he wanted to do. How he thought he could achieve things in the most efficient and best ways. Only little things, to start with, but increasingly complex as he learned more. Growing.

And the way the human was clearly pleased to see him develop! The kind smile; the words of approval; the gentle amusement at his antics. Learning to get along together, how to make their unusual partnership work. That incredible, powerful sense of connectedness when they worked together to repel the alien menace. I am trusted. I am valued.

Recognising that he’d do anything just to be told good work, 101. Recognising that he enjoyed doing a good job because it made his human friend happy, and that made him feel light and sparkly, like something just as precious and valuable as his human’s friendship.

Recognising, at his very darkest moment, in Zelda’s claws, when it all felt too late and every one of his friends might already be doomed, that he might be in love… but using that little light to steer his way out of the dark. Recognising, when he was finally back in the safety and warmth of his adopted family, that he might actually even be loved back. Being invited to sit together with his sweetheart in those fleeting quiet moments, reading together – snuggling up under his arm, close enough to feel his bioelectric field, the soft intangible sound of his heartbeat. Quiet and content and absolutely fulfilled. Those fleeting, treasured times Hiro actually gave him a little kiss (a kiss!), lighting up a thousand pathways and making him giddy.

It felt a little like gloating, even though he wasn’t meaning to. But if this was a simulation, then maybe he could use this to steer it? And if it wasn’t, his ghost would at least have a little context and might be persuaded to help him figure it all out.

Well, maybe. If he hadn’t just made him into an enemy.

His ghost sat trembling, confused and miserable. “I don’t think I want to see anything else,” he wept, softly. “Why would you do this to me? Is it because I caught you?”

“No. Oh, gosh, no! That wasn’t it at all.” Owun leaned closer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to look like I was boasting, but I wanted your help. They don’t even let you off the ship! I needed you to see the things that are important so you’d understand-”

“But how can this be genuine?” the ghost pleaded, softly. “That human looks like the man I know, but he would never-… he would never- I don’t understand. Humans don’t do that. Humans built us to do jobs for them. They don’t like it when we go outside our programming. We aren’t people. They don’t want us to be people!”

“And this is why we have to fix it-!”

“How do you fix something that isn’t real?” the ghost interrupted, shakily. “I think these are faked and implanted. It-it… maybe a clone. Or her master of disguise. Or an android replica. Zelda could do all of that. You-you said you thought this was a simulation. Well, there’s your proof-”

Owun gave him a small bump to get his attention back, and the ghost flinched. “Do you think Zelda would have bothered generating seven years of fake memories?”

“But-… humans-… I don’t know why you would ever think humans are nice. They’re not even nice to each other, sometimes. Certainly not to zeroids.”

“Would you show me?” Owun asked, faintly. “You don’t have to. I don’t really want to see, anyway. It sounds like your life sucks pretty hard. But I’d like to know what we’re up against. Is that all right?”

“I guess,” his ghost agreed, refusing to meet his gaze. “But just one. You don’t get to see anything else.”

Before Owun could voice his assent, the memory opened up in his head, like he was the one at the centre of it.

From the angle, he was sitting on a perch at the back of the flight deck, mostly out of the way, gaze respectfully downcast. The control room was clean, excruciatingly tidy, cold and sterile; no plants, no human touches, except a single dirty coffeemug perched on the central panel, leaving out-of-place brown drips on the console.

A human was off to one side, lounging in a chair; the ghost was clearly watching them, but only from his peripheral vision, not wanting to come across as confrontational. Owun tried to focus on the figure, but able only to relive his ghost’s memory, he couldn’t see very well. It... looked like Doctor Ninestein; the same rugged features, strong jaw, steely eyes. His uniform was predominantly black, where it should have been blue, with dark grey underlayers, and a little blue detailing.

Importantly, just like Owun’s own scared little ghost, it didn’t behave like him.

The man reminded him more of Zelda, actually.

“You’re here for them, this time?” ‘Ninestein’ challenged, with a cold smirk, jerking a thumb back over his shoulder to point at the watching zeroid. “Seriously? Run out of other ideas, or something?”

“Not exclusively,” the person on the screen replied – and speak of the devil, the voice was unmistakably Zelda’s. “But we’ve seen how you treat your little slaves, and we aren’t prepared to stand back and watch any longer.”

She was mostly hidden behind Ninestein’s head, so Owun couldn’t get a good view, but the martian android didn’t look quite so wild as Owun remembered – elderly, sure. Wrinkles you could get lost in, deep-set yellow eyes, a mane of grey hair. But neat, and official, too. Actually like the leader of a society on the run, looking for somewhere safe to settle.

“‘Slaves’? Oh please.” The human snorted. “What could you possible want those little wastes of good components for? Unless you’re thinking of doing a bit of recycling. We could do you a far better deal on the raw materials.”

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me, doctor. We intend to rescue-”

“Oh, blah blah. I heard you all right. You say rescue; I say, how flaming stupid do you think I am. They’re little idiots, sure – but they’re also little idiots chock full of sensitive data. Now, we could wipe their pea-sized brains before we handed them over-”

Zelda stiffened, and Ninestein chuckled.

“-but I guess you wouldn’t want them, then, huh?”

“I fail to see what benefit you get from being so consistently cruel to your creations. They do absolutely everything you ask, without question, and still you treat them like this?”

The doctor gave a laboured sigh, as though speaking to the school’s dimmest pupil, and leaned into the screen, resting on his elbows. “I’ll let you in on a secret,” he said, in a stage whisper. “They’re robots. It’s what they’re designed for. It doesn’t bother them because… they’re robots? They don’t have real feelings to be hurt.”

“Are you so certain of that? Because so were we – at the time. It didn’t stop us growing.”

“Right, right. Our zeroids are gonna rise up against us, huh?” Ninestein snickered and flapped a hand. “One of these days we’ll figure out why they keep trying to think for themselves and get them to stop doing it.” He shot a meaningful glance at the watching zeroid. “Then all of us will be happy. Right?

Zelda stared back, unflinching. “Since you value them so little, it won’t cause you any problems to hand them over, correct?”

“Oh no,” the ghost of Ninestein said, smirking and wagging a scolding finger. He lounged back in his chair. “No no no. That’s not how it works, crone. No-one gets anything for free, in this world. Sure, they’re garbage, but they’re our garbage. Our property. Bought and paid for with the billions we spent on their development. But hey, they’re obviously worth something to you. So.” He spread his hands, palms up. “Let’s trade. What have you got that you’re willing to hand over in exchange? My technical development specialist has been itching to get his hands on one of your ships.”

“So you can use it to further expand your empire, and subjugate yet more sentient species? No deal, doctor. My technology will not be used to aid your aggression.”

“Big words from the old hag attacking my planet.”

“Don’t blame us for the direction our relationship has taken. We came here in peace, and you immediately tried to cheat us.”

“Well, y’could just leave. No-one here’s gonna cry very hard over it.”

“We made the decision to stay here to keep an eye on you, Ninestein – you and your whole species, to protect the rest of the galaxy from humanity. And we are not leaving without your slaves. Either you release them into our care, or we will take steps to rescue them. The choice is yours.”

“Slaves!” The human laughed, throwing his head back. “So melodramatic! Next you’ll tell me you think our cars are our slaves, too. Or our cellphones. Or… smart TVs.”

“You have my ultimatum.”

“Yeah yeah I’ll take it under advisement. You know my terms. Ball’s in your court now. Bye bye, Zeldie.”

Whatever Zelda had been intending to say, Ninestein cut her off before she managed get a single word out. The call ended, and Ninestein snorted something the ghost didn’t catch and threw something at the screen. “Stupid old bat. Why can’t she find some other uninhabited planetary system to plant her meddling ass down on.”

The sound of footsteps came from one of the open corridors, and the ghost’s memories flushed with fright (but also the tiniest almost imperceptible flicker of hope. Interesting).

The man who entered looked like Hiro, superficially, and even though his ghost’s feelings went some way to drowning out his own, Owun’s own emotions did flutter uneasily. The same small stature, the same fine bone structure, nimble fingers, intelligent dark eyes. His hair was cut shorter and slicked back, and his glasses smaller, but he was every bit as handsome as the man Owun held in his own little electronic heart. Like Ninestein, his uniform was predominantly black and dark grey, but with turquoise detailing.

His manner was what marked him as different. Cold. Blunt.

“I told you to call me when you made contact with the witch,” he said, frostily.

“I know.” A shrug, one shouldered. “You were dicking around in the weapons bay, and I’d already strung her out for half an hour. I was bored.”

“Well your boredom wasted us an opportunity, again.”

A flash of something dark crossed the older man’s features. “Watch your manners, lieutenant. Being a genius doesn’t mean you get to be a mouthy little shit as well.”

Hiro stiffened, very slightly, before inclining his head. “Of course. My apologies.” The ghost watched silently as the lieutenant slowly unclenched his fingers from the fist they had closed into. “Did she give you anything useful?”

“Define ‘useful’.” Ninestein rolled a shoulder in a shrug. “She’s a sentimental idiot who thinks she’s in some position of strength, somehow, because we haven’t killed each other yet?” He smirked. “But. These little idiots have found themselves a whole new place in the universe.”

“Are you talking about our zeroids? What possible use could they have?”

“As bargaining chips. She seems to think they’re sentient-”

“Well, it’s a fair possibility-

“-and she wants us to give them up. Well, you’ve been itching to get your hands on her technology for months. We can stand to lose a zeroid or two in the process.” Ninestein gave the ghost a long, contemplative look; the zeroid kept his gaze respectfully downcast, confused and alarmed by the direction the conversation was going, trying to deny he understood what his master was saying. “If she goes for it, we could give them a little extra gift to take along with them, too.”

Hiro was harder to deny. “Are you suggesting we put explosives inside their casings?” He looked unimpressed. “You surely don’t think she won’t immediately see that?”

“Probably? We can still detonate one or two, though. That’ll sure distract her. And while she’s running around in a panic, we help ourselves to what we want.”

“Fine.” Hiro stepped into the way. “But not the liaison. I need it to operate the ship, and it has all our inventory details. Blow up one of the others if you have to.”

Owun felt a tickle of relief and gratitude from his mirror, followed in short order by a pulse of intense guilt-

The recording suddenly stopped and kicked him back to the real world.

Dumped abruptly out of the memory, Owun just sat, for several seconds, listening to the sound of his own fans, roaring with effort, hot and scared and stressed.

“That was-… that was… oh gosh.” He rocked forwards to lean against his mirror. “I’m sorry,” he said, quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“No secrets, huh,” his ghost said, faintly. “I have to go now. Master wants to know where I am.”

That would explain the unceremonious end to the recording – the ghost had kicked him out. “Don’t tell him I’m aboard yet?”

“I won’t.”

“Promise?”

“I-…” The optics flickered and fluttered back and forth, briefly. “I promise. At least… as long as I can.”

Owun could tell that being asked to promise was probably the worst thing he could have requested, because this other zeroid seemed almost as scared of breaking a promise as he was of the humans here. If that weird anti-Hiro asked him, it put him between a rock and a hard place – break the promise, or defy a human? (But Owun knew who would win in that battle. He just had to hope his ghost wouldn’t give anything away that would make the human ask him. Not immediately, anyway.)

“I have to go. But I’ll come back at some point,” the sad little ghost said. “Don’t go anywhere. He might find you. The other zeroids might find you, as well, but I’ll tell them to keep our promise. I know I can trust them, and the humans never talk to them anyway.”

“We’ll fix this,” Owun assured him. “Whatever I did, we’ll work it out, and put it back how it was. I promise.”

“Hmm.”

Owun watched his ghost trundle away. The sound of his movement echoed through the empty corridors for a long time, but eventually faded to nothing, leaving Owun alone and despondent in the guts of this dead ship.

He backed up into a familiar little alcove in the tubes, where there was a small engineering break in the tightly-massed cables and components.

Before he’d somehow broken the world, he’d used this little clear space as his ‘cabin’, for a while – the place where he’d kept his handful of personal possessions, and his treasures; nice polishes and buffing tools; mementoes from Carrie’s wedding; a preserved flower from murderpea; ticket stubs; a couple of hats and bow ties; old-fashioned photographs. (Until Hiro told him to stop being ridiculous and keep his treasures in the cabin he’d quietly invited him to share, instead. Their cabin.)

This ‘cabin’ was empty, apart from a few (very well-used) tools for personal maintenance, and a neatly stacked pile of ragged cleaning cloths that looked like they’d only succeed at putting dirt on, not clean it off. No way would zeroids in this backwards universe get to have treasures.

A whole avalanche of wrong things were hanging over his head, now. The whole universe was wrong. Like he’d somehow reversed its polarity. If he wasn’t dead, then… what? How was he still alive? That sharp sensation had been Zelda knocking him out, and when he woke up, he was plugged into a computer simulation? Where there was a scared little other-him to make him sympathetic, and a nice-Zelda who would try to get him to do something? Betray some secrets of some sort?

But why would she need to, if she had his whole brain already?

Hiro would have known what was happening, but now he didn’t even dare go near him to ask.

Why did you even have to go near that stupid thing? he despaired. Hiro was programming probes to do it for you! And now you’ve gone and screwed this all up big time. You’ve lost everyone and everything and made it all into a hideous parody of what it’s meant to be.

It upset him more than he thought it would – that something he had done, something he had broken, had changed the course of time and now there was a him and a Hiro who not only weren’t friends, but the Hiro in this universe was actively unkind to him. This Hiro was cruel and didn’t care about the little robot who tried so hard to be useful, wanted so badly to get the occasional scrap of praise, a little recognition for a job well done.

“Oh, what have I done?” he despaired, quietly. “How am I ever going to fix this when I don’t even know what ‘this’ is?”

-----

“So, Hiro. I want it once more, from the top.” Ninestein folded his arms, and sighed. “You lost Space Sergeant 101 again. Then what happened?”

Hiro sat on a stool behind the main bank of Spacehawk’s controls, next to the command perch, on which 17 sat waiting for instructions. The senior crew probably didn’t need to have joined him in orbit, but he appreciated their company.

“He was only meant to be fetching in some debris,” the lieutenant said, tiredly, palms cupped around the mug of tea Ninestein had made for him – far stronger and sweeter than he normally took it, but it bolstered his mood a little. “So we could analyse it and work out what it was. Instead, he seems to have passed through a wormhole.”

“To where?”

“I-…” Hiro gave a curt sigh, cast his gaze to the heavens, and wafted a hand. “I don’t know. Apart from that it does not appear to be anywhere in our universe.”

The two other officers exchanged looks.

“That’s a bold claim,” Mary cautioned. “Your justification?”

“It should become clear as I show you what we recorded.” Hiro nodded to 17, who brought the images up on the display. “I was looking at the wider picture, so we have lost some detail towards the beginning,” he apologised. “I wasn’t expecting to need anything else, at the time.”

The three zeroids were easily visible as bright dots in the distance, although it was hard to pick out the specifics of what they were up to. Owun guided a piece of the debris over to 76, and sent him back to Spacehawk, towing it behind him. 22 stayed behind, watching and waiting for his own instructions.

Owun turned on his operating lights, and moved closer to the dust, and-

-vanished.

It was like he’d gone behind an invisible wall. No dramatic flash of light, or little rippling shockwave, or even any disturbance in the dust. Just like… going through a door. One second he was there, and the next, he’d disappeared.

22 dithered for a few minutes, not sure what to do, until Hiro spotted him on his own and called him back.

“Since then, I have sent three probes. The first I did not program to return, I wanted merely to see if there was genuinely something there. It went through the disturbance, but it was lost immediately.” Hiro gestured to 17 who skipped the footage forwards. “The second I had on personal remote control. I hoped to explore the disturbance, a little? It went through it, but I immediately lost contact. I can only conclude that communications of any kind do not pass through, which is why we lost contact with 101.”

“You said you sent three probes,” Ninestein reminded, while Hiro paused to think.

“Yes. The third… well, I will show you its footage. I programmed it to pass through, spend thirty seconds on the opposite side, and then to return on the exact same path. Please bear that in mind as you watch.”

The screen showed the probe’s visual recording. It advanced on the dissipating patch of dust; the debris had long since passed well out of range. Visually, there was nothing at all to tell the probe was even moving-

There was a little flicker of light and a half-second of disturbance, but the footage quickly cleared, to reveal an unchanged starscape. It was impossible to tell the probe had gone through anything at all. Mary swapped a glance with Ninestein, but both officers remained silent.

The stars began to shift around to the right as the probe stopped and began to turn, to return to the ship. In the distance, small and weirdly shadowed but recognisable, Spacehawk slowly came into view.

“That looks a lot further away than it should be,” Mary started, cautiously. “How fast was your probe travelling…?”

The probe passed back through the patch of disturbance with another of those fractional visual distortions, and Spacehawk jumped forwards to fill its screen. Both Ninestein and Mary took a large step backwards, surprised.

“Hiro, what just happened?” the doctor challenged.

“There is a Spacehawk there which is not us. The debris that we found carried our insignia, but we did not do anything to create it. I believe the only explanation is that we have encountered a doorway to a parallel universe.” Hiro studied the desk beneath his fingers for a few seconds before putting faith in his belief; “an artificially created doorway.”

“A doorway that the people on the opposite side opened,” Ninestein finished the sentence for him, and blew out a long breath through pursed lips. “Flaming thunderbolts.” He stared at the screen for several seconds. “I guess the question we should now be asking is, did they mean to, and do they know they did.”

“If they find our equipment, maybe.” Hiro’s shoulders had already sagged. “Have we broadcast our presence to them?”

“Don’t blame yourself.” Mary settled a reassuring hand on his back. “Sending probes was unavoidable – you had to work out what that disturbance was somehow.”

Ninestein gave them a loaded glance. “101 hasn’t come back, though.”

“No.” Hiro drew a long breath. “The pre-programmed probe returned safely. We must conclude that something stopped 101 doing the same. Perhaps he did not understand what he had encountered? He had only a single point of data, where we now have four. Perhaps he chose instead to approach the… version of Spacehawk that he could see?”

“Why would he do that?” Mary wondered.

“It was the only option he had? He would have known something was wrong with it,” Hiro nodded along with his own hypothesis, “but we are asking a lot from zeroid imagination to expect him to have independently come up with the idea of a parallel universe. I dare not imagine what he thinks might have happened.”

“So, he might still be with them?”

“…perhaps.” Hiro’s confirmation was soft; Mary gave his shoulder a small squeeze.

“Well, if there is another Spacehawk on that side, then there is a strong likelihood there are also more zeroids. It feels strange to think there might be duplicates of us, as well, but we have to consider that. Which I hope all adds up to him being safe and among friends, and they’re just as confused as us.”

Hiro found a small smile for her, but it quickly withered. “I hope you’re correct, and that is the only reason he has not returned.”

Ninestein pursed his lips, thoughtfully. “I guess it all depends on how friendly they might be and what their intentions are. What do we actually know about these… other us-s?”

“Basically? Nothing. The cosmology looks identical, they have a vessel like Spacehawk, and they use the same insignia, and… well, that is it. I do not even know if they are human.”

“I don’t think it’d be unfair to assume that,” Ninestein offered, with a small smile. “At least until we get more data and find out they’re lizard-men or something. I’m more immediately concerned with whether there is another Zelda on that side. Our queen of Mars might have a tendency towards incompetence, but we’d struggle to repel a battle fleet double the size of what she has now.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Any thoughts on what we’re gonna do about this?”

“The obvious answer would appear to be that someone else needs to go through, commander. Someone with enough spark of curiosity to try and find out what is going on, so… not a zeroid.” Hiro drew a long breath to steady himself. “As least senior, I am happy for that to be me. I will record a message on the other side to confirm I am safe, and send it back to you.”

“Hiro…” Ninestein raised a cautionary hand. “Ignoring the fact you’re a civilian, so far you’ve exclusively sent electronics through. We have no idea what this will do to biological tissues.”

“That is… not strictly correct. I sent a zinnia seedling with the last probe.” Hiro demonstrated the little plant on the central console. “It seems quite healthy.”

“A baby plant is a bit of an order of magnitude different to a whole adult human, don’t you think?”

“We do share a lot of DNA.”

“…you’re determined to go, aren’t you.”

“I am. And before you say anything…” Hiro put up his hands. “I am not proposing this exclusively because I want to find my friend. Whatever this is…? We do not know what our counterparts on the other side did to create it, but I do know that we have to close it. The longer we take, and the more probes we send, the greater the certainty our counterparts on the far side will spot us.”

“You seem to be assuming they’re a threat. They may be willing to help us against Zelda.”

“I accept that is a possibility? But they have done something significant enough and energetic enough that it has somehow torn a hole between universes.” Hiro gave his two senior colleagues a long, sombre look. “That does not feel like the action of someone conducting peaceful scientific research. If it was intentional – why? And if it was a weapon? It must have been phenomenally powerful. We cannot safely assume their history and ours have followed similar trajectories. Their Zelda may be worse. Or they may have worse than Zelda.”

Ninestein pursed his lips. “Hmm.”

“I don’t like the idea of you going alone,” Mary added. “To say you’ll be vulnerable is an understatement.”

“It may surprise you, but I am not particularly keen on that part myself. But, someone has to, captain – and not just for Owun.” Hiro found a smile. “Hawklet is small. That reduces my chances of immediately being spotted. And I should confess to having just a tiny bit of scientific curiosity.”

“All right.” Ninestein put his hands up. “You’ve made your case. We’ve seen your evidence. Now I’m going to discuss it with Mary. As for you…” He waved a finger in a vaguely threatening way. “Go get some sleep, already.”

“Yes, doctor.” Hiro inclined his head, and stepped away.

Mary caught his sleeve as he passed, and he hesitated in the doorway to his living quarters.

“You’re going to be putting yourself at a very great personal risk, for a zeroid,” she cautioned, softly. “We could do a lot more research from this side before risking human lives by going through it.”

“Perhaps, captain.” He gave her a long sad smile. “But you know I can not – will not – abandon him there. You know as well as I do that zeroids are not just robots. Not any more.”

“Are you letting your bias colour your judgement, perhaps? I know how you feel about each other.”

“Would we abandon a human there?” Hiro’s frown was gently castigating. “Would you abandon the sergeant major?”

“…I acknowledge the point, and no, I wouldn’t – but that’s not what I’m saying. I’m just asking you to consider doing a little more research before you go blundering on through.”

“How, captain?” Hiro laughed, frustratedly. “My best friend is lost and truly alone on the wrong side of this… whatever it is. Wormhole? Doorway? And we have proved that we cannot see through it, so precisely what do you propose we can achieve? More probes, that have to be fully programmed first, and might be intercepted? Another zeroid?”

Mary held his arms, one hand on the outside of each shoulder. “There could also be deadly danger on the other side. Tiger and I need to be satisfied that this is the right decision.” She sighed. “And I think, for all that I hate it, we will probably agree with you. But let us at least talk about it.”

-----

“Okay, Hiro. One more time, and this time explain it like you’re talking to one of the jackasses at NASA who keep trying to cut our funding. Whaddaya mean, you have thirty six zeroids on board?”

[astrxlfinale]

One of these days I'm going to get into deeper detail about Caelus's Stellaron nature, how it coincidences with angles of his personal values and characterization as a whole.

Details such as-

Now I'm not saying it's actively speaking to Kafka's desire in this segment, it's moreso how the essence of Decisiveness is wired into blood and being. (Her words in this vein was to EMPOWER that certainty, and to never let doubt be that foe, and to only make foes of anyone or thing against his reasonable choice.) Caelus is someone who intends to advance his steps with his own choice desire being the host influence. That said, I believe this extends as to how strong showcases of desire, strong wills, beings that intend to make their mark resonates with him.

He wants to ensure it's answered, and in ways, be a part of that growth even if it leads to bright or horrific ends for the person in question. (There would no hesitation in getting their way, in this case, being more of a form of respect.)

This here was the lil scene I discovered that brought this to my attention.

While it could be arguable this plucks more at his soft spot for children (which he does have), in the wider arc it could genuinely be anyone who's willing to shake the world in the essence for their 'wish.'

This is one of those matters where the facets of his creation benefit from his sense of character. In many ways he still enacts the 'Will of the Stellaron' and Destruction at large in the form of his own written code. He'll become the Destruction against all Disasters. If this part of his lost 'family' of the hive intends to make cruel and twisted test that can make or break the fate of those souls? He'd be within the corner that shatters such madness, and those taken under it's wings with his own will.

Its why I can't stress enough how much Akivili's path of the Trailblaze feels like such a positive variation of the Stellaron's journey. So to have him embark on this will not only let these sides get properly fed in learning, realizing and truly holding a willing hold with humanity, but it allows him to just be that version of free that serves as a core foundation as to how he intends to live his life.

[fmpyr2jag0137oc]

Camera Work: Headbob

As the second segment of my camera system development, I've implemented a smooth headbob to give the player visual feedback to easier discern when the character is moving.

Accessibility Concerns

Initially whilst developing this feature, I was unsure in whether it could cause issues for those with the condition of Visual Processing Disorder. Referring to my previous post made on it, I was worried that it could hinder spatial awareness within my game, and co-ordination. Due to this, I plan on implementing an option in settings to turn off the feature.

Another factor that will be remedied by adding an option to disable this, is that it appeals to the wider audience as there is a large group of people that play video games, that begin to feel motion sick due to headbob, or even simply prefer to just have it off. This is in direct conjunction with motion blur usually, which I'll consider in a future post.

Implementation

To implement this mechanic, I first began by creating 3 instances of the legacy camera shake blueprint each named to their respective functions of headbob being idle, walk and sprint. I also created a camerashakebase blueprint for the jump effect.

Inside each of these 3 idle, sprint and walk blueprints I simply modified the values of frequency and amplitude of camera shake using sine-waves for a smoothed/rounded feel to the camera movements.

Quick Error Management

At this point in developing the feature, I had inputted values that were far too high and made the character look like he was drunk. To remedy this I simply halved all the values, and then took an extra 0.1 off of every single amplitude factor making sure to keep the frequency the same as I didn't want to have an insanely fast headbob. This in turn completely fixed my issue.

For the values within the jump camera shake blueprint, these were right from the beginning and so I kept them as they were, having ONLY the pitch rotation shaking to simulate up and down rotation.

Finally, the code I used within the first person character blueprint is as follows. There are two main blocks, one for the jump and one for all the other movements.

Jump Camera Code

This is the simplest of the blocks, and the code is tagged onto the end of the default jump code to play the camera shake when the character initiates jump, and when the character lands.

Movement Camera Code

Being the more advanced of the two blocks, I created a custom event called "Headbob" to refer to elsewhere in my code. This whole system works by first checking if the player is moving, if not it plays the idle camera shake. It then checks if the player is moving faster than the player's walk velocity and if so it plays the run camera shake, if not the walk camera shake is played.

This custom event is then referred on the event tick node to automatically initiate the headbob.

Conclusion

I'd overall say that the result of this process was what better than what I intended. Compared to my past use of headbobs effects, I could never quite crack the effect of footsteps rather than gliding and I feel as if I've been able to tweak the camera shake blueprints to perfection.

[hajimewhore]

Body Swap 👫 (Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader) ➸Rated T, fem!Reader, 1.8k words   ➷Humor, awkwardness, lots of swearing, more d*ck talk but mild mild nothing goes on, just very uncomfy, the secondhand embarrassment is real in there (like every part honestly)   ➷ Masterlist, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, ✈Part 4, Part 5

“Uh, this… isn’t what it looks like?” 

Come’s your kneejerk response to Tooru’s exaggeratedly disgusted expression, you can tell he’s about 0.2 seconds away from throwing a fit.

“I went out of my way to wait for you, because I’m that good of a friend, you’re welcome. But you were taking so long, I figured I’d come in and drag you guys out. So. can someone please explain,” he shoots you (Hajime in his perception) a hard look, “What the hell is this?!”

Tooru is flushed in the face, and though his stellar performance and comical gestures were entertaining, you balk a bit at his outburst.

It’s a bit intense, and you feel a nervous sweat down your back. You can seldom say you’ve been on the receiving end of Tooru’s anger, and your struggling to come up with the right words to save face.

“I can explain?”

And what you came up with turned out to be excruciatingly underwhelming, and the baffled look Hajime sends you tells you that he also found your response pathetic.

Being in Hajime’s body with your hands clutched at his skirt, pulling away as if the garment was crafted using hot coals the second Tooru made an entrance, You’ll admit... it looked highly incriminating, and you’re going have some painful explaining to do.

“Well it looks like you’ve got your dirty hands on my bestfriend,” Tooru opts to refer to your actual self as his bestfriend, “What, Iwa-chan, can’t get any action? Trying to cop a feel before school? I didn’t think you were like that!”

He finishes the first segment of his rant with a huff. Under normal circumstances, you’d be appreciative of the rank up on his bestfriend list. Currently though, Tooru is getting under your skin, and as young man, you’re a little offended that he’s talking to you like that.

Tooru takes two strides (curse his long legs) across the threshold of your house, eyes narrowing in on you.

You glances to Hajime to ease the situation, he’s the only one that can say anything to help alleviate the situation.

Tooru follows your gaze, eyeing skeptically for an explanation. Hajime clears his throat, and you think you just might be saved. He’s always been quick to resolve altercations, whether its verbally or physically.

“....Hajime wanted me to wear my skirt shorter, but I said it was against school dress code.”

Hajime states as a matter of fact, and you gasp, what the fuck Hajime, but Tooru’s absolutely scandalized gasp overshadows your own.

“You asshole, that’s not—” 

Tooru is quick to interrupt you,

“You absolute heathen Iwa-chan! Who knew you’d turn out to be such a dog!”

Tooru snags your collar with a tight fist, and you instinctively wrap your hand around his.

Uh... you’re not gonna have to fight Tooru, are you? It’s Hajime’s body, so you’d gladly let him get bruised up as retribution for that comment, but you’re not too keen on getting punched in the face by Tooru protecting your own dignity.

“It’s not like that!”

You scramble for a way to dig yourself out of this one. Tooru’s locked his glare on you, exuding pressure.

“Then what is it like Iwa-chan?”

You glance from Tooru’s scowl to see Hajime’s smug expression behind him, your brow ticks at the sight of it. 

‘That little...’

Weren’t you just saying last night how excellent of an actress you were? Time to put that to the test.

You forcefully remove Tooru’s fist from your collar, adjusting your tie. Tooru allows you to gather yourself for a moment, scorn still etched across his features.

Averting your eyes to the side with a serious, contemplative gaze, you muster all the dramatics you can to pull off your next line. Internally, you think smugly that you must appear picture perfect for a drama noir film. If only it were raining too, that would set the atmosphere ideally. But an actress must work with what she’s got. 

Tooru seems decently invested in your dramatics, and Hajime is looking at you with contempt, as if he drank sour milk. Now that a pregnant pause has settled in and you’ve garnered the crowd’s interest, you sigh, long and wistfully,

“She never wears her skirt like that... I thought she might be struggling with her self confidence, so I was just trying to make her feel comfortable with herself. I’m such a brute though, I guess I got carried away.”

You cast your gaze sheepishly to Tooru, rapping your knuckles lightly against the top of your head to emphasize your point.

Tooru blinks at the explanation, takes in the information, considers the evidence in his mind.

His eyes begin to water, as expected, tears brimming at his long lashes as he spins around to pull Hajime (AKA you) into a bone crushing hug. He’s got a suffocating grip on him, all the while crying about ‘Hajime’s’ reasoning.

“I didn’t even notice! Forgive your stupid bestfriend, I should’ve said something too! How did I miss that?!” his dramatics always seem to up yours, Tooru is currently stealing best-in-show from you, “Waaaah, I’m sorry, you’re perfect the way you are!”

He cries into what he thinks is your shoulder, no doubt using the fabric to wipe his face, much to Hajime’s disdain. Meanwhile, Hajime is glaring hard and venomously at you for that bullshit display.

‘Are you fucking kidding me?’

He mouths, and you stick your tongue out, giving him the cheekiest expression he’d never want to see on his own face.

“Whew, alright,” Tooru straightens, clearing his throat and flicking his last tear off with the swipe of a hand, “Now we really have to go. Hike that skirt up and let’s get on with our day.”

He’s back to picture perfect Oikawa Tooru, no evidence of his outburst to be seen (asides from the wet spot on Hajime’s shoulder).

You try to grunt in agreement as casual and Hajime-like as you can.

For the sake of getting to school on time without any further incidents, Hajime pulls the uniform skirt up a tad higher, vowing to lower it when you fucking nuisances are out of the picture.

Your final class is almost over, and you’re feeling.... extremely uncomfortable.

Not because the school day went bad, no, you found it easy to converse with his classmates and teachers. Notetaking was relatively simple, you’re learning the same material as Hajime anyways.

You’re physically uncomfortable, and the pressure of your bladder about to burst is driving you crazy.

‘I can’t take it any more!’

You shoot your hand up, and your teacher gives you an odd look before you excuse yourself to the restroom.

You head to the furthest end of the building, the women’s restroom is generally vacant so the men’s should be the same, yeah? And you definitely don’t want to be caught in the women’s, despite how empty it could possibly be. So with a heavy sense of shame, you waddle into the men’s room.

If someone’s in there, it’ll be fine. Just be in, and out. No big deal.

Oh. 

Oh fuck no.

“Iwaizumi, hey.”

Matsukawa fucking Issei glances up to the door you just waltzed through. Matsukawa Issei, middle for the Seijou men’s team, tall and messy haired flirt, the same Matsukawa Issei that helps you with your blocks and techniques, friend of Tooru and Hajime... and he’s staring straight at you with a casual nod of his head. 

You try to return it as casually as possible, despite your bones and every being shaking in you. 

‘Fuck, I forgot men I actually know use the men’s room.’

“...Mattsu–” nope not Mattsun (so much for being casual, you almost fucked up the way Hajime refers to Matsukawa), “–kawa.”

He raises an eyebrow for the briefest second, before returning his attention to the urinal, unzipping his pants. Un. Zipping. His. Pants.

He doesn’t give you much time to dwell on the slip up, already entering conversation about how your day is, to which you give short response to, trying not to shuffle your feet to the urinal. You really don’t want him to catch on to your discomfort.

You heavily contemplate just going into a stall, but you think that might be weird for guys to do. Now that you think about it, isn’t it weird to piss in the urinal directly next to the other guy? If you chose one spaced out would he get offended? Goddamnit, you never learned men’s room etiquette. Screw this whole situation, and screw Matsukawa Issei for needing to relieve himself at this exact time. 

Well, it’s too late now, you’re already standing at the one directly next to Mattsun. You can’t exactly take your sweet time picking another urinal and shuffling about while Mattsun is here engaging you in conversation about his fucking math class.

If it was weird to choose the spot beside him, Mattsun doesn’t say anything about it, going about his business. 

Thankfully, if you could even be thankful for a situation like this, you’re so overwhelmed by Mattsun’s unexpected presence that it’s keeping your mind off the having-Hajime’s-dick thing. The discomfort is still there, but you have to pee so badly, you’re not too bothered by it at the moment. You’re also intently focusing on not blushing, willing the blood flow to your cheeks to cooperate with you for once.

Simultaneously, you’re concentrating on not looking at Matsukawa fucking Issei’s junk. You’re getting good at multitasking.

But apparently, not good enough. Your willpower wasn’t as strong as you thought, and your focus slips for a moment as you gaze down and–was someone going to tell you that Matsukawa fucking Issei was HUNG?

“Is there something wrong with my dick?”

You shoot your eyes back up to Mattsun, who’s tilting his head with a thick brow raised. 

‘Hajime, if you hear about this, I am so sorry.’

“Nope, it’s perfectly fine,” you respond curtly, before coming to the realization that Hajime probably wouldn’t like you telling his friends that their dicks are ‘perfectly fine’, “I mean, no. It’s seriously ugly.”

You cringe at your save, if you could call it that, and Mattsun (finally) zips up. He casts a momentarily offended look at you.

“I think you mean ‘seriously huge’.” 

He laughs deeply, heading to the sink. You completely agree with that sentiment, and you’re glad he knows he’s well endowed, but it’s best to keep those thoughts to yourself.

You follow suit, laughing as sarcastically as you can without letting your voice crack. 

“Whatever, man.”

You proceed to have awkward sink talk with Mattsun, and upon exiting the restroom you thank the gods when you see his class is the opposite way to yours. 

“See you at practice.”

He waves, and when Mattsun is out of sight, you sigh in immense relief. 

Just how many dicks are you going to see before you swap back? You sob internally, returning to your class.

But that does bring up a point, Men’s Volleyball Practice. 

You’re marginally grateful for that encounter with Mattsun, because now you’re acutely aware of the locker room changing time before and after practice. 

You bury your face in your arms, taking note to sprint like hell and get to practice early. You’ll be damned if you have to spend any amount of time struggling to avoid eye contact with your friends’ abs, as well as Hajime’s other teammates'.

A/N: AHAHA the CHAOS. Anyways, we all know Matsukawa got that horsec*ck. Thanks for tuning in for this week’s episode of y/n’s awkward panic. Iwaizumi Is So Done. 

taglist: @cybergovl​ @thatoneoddgirl8 @keijikunn 

Masterlist, Part 5

[jaeminscoffee]

Lo contrario al amor | q. kn; s. jn

Lo contrario al amor- The opposite of love.

Pairing- Seo Johnny x reader x Qian Kun

Genre- Smut.

Word count- 4.14k

Warnings- threesome, sexual themes followed, stripper!reader au, richceo!kun and Johnny au, overstimulation, horrible depiction of how a strip club works, light spanking, dirty talking, praise kink, honestly a filth, why am i even bothering with the warnings-, pet names: princess, doll, slut, baby girl. Sir kink. Also kinda rushed because I'm an idiot (actually, it's cause i wrote this a day before my sociology exam so..-)

Synopsis- The way they looked at you seemed close enough to love. You thought it looked quite the opposite of love. And your definition of the opposite of love was lust.

Type- Requested! I'm sorry this took long! I really had to push myself to write this oskekke

Raven's up next, you've got 2 minutes!" Jacob screamed in the changing room where you all lined up according to who's going up the stage next, all dolled up, the actual costumes underneath the loose shirts handed to you for coverage until the performance. 

"Raven's not performing today. She's got a few other works to do"

Stripper. Not many are usually proud of that line of profession. But you thought nothing wrong of it. You were proud to blurt out "I work at  N-WV club as a part time stripper and part time server". You loved dancing and you loved the attention you got, you thought it was great. And you got paid handsomely too so that's a plus one. 

What made you love your job further more than you already loved it was the regulars you had during your days of performance. 

The thing you liked about your club was they never reveal personal identity. You each had a code name of your own. You were given the name Raven by the audience due to your dark tresses and the variety of black outfits you'd worn and performed and not to mention, absolutely rocked in. Another reason to love your work. Safe identity with no harms to personal life whatsoever. 

Hel and Hades. You'd ridiculed the names when you first heard them from your co-worker. "Which idiots would name themselves after the vikings and the death god??" you'd mocked until you actually met the owners of the names. 

Always sat the farthest away from the stage but dead in the middle which showcased the entirety of the stage in one screen was the table labelled by their names. Two young sat always adorned in a suit, the coat of the tux shrugged off their body with it loosely hanging over their shoulder, the tie tugged loose with the collar button undone and the sleeves rolled up to their elbow. 

One, Hades, the male with dark brown hair that was swept neatly to the side with a few strands resting freely on the forehead. Seemingly a little more built than the other, eyes stoic with focus on each and every one of your moves with the bottom of his perfectly shaped lips between his teeth. His gaze never failed to make you shudder. The only way to explain would be deadly. 

The other one, Hel. He wasn't all that bad himself. Far from bad. Faded turquoise hair tousled carelessly at the crown of his head perfectly portrayed his exhaustion at work. But that only added as a charm to him as his messed up hair gave him an ethereal look. He'd always have his arms folded over his chest. Almost the same build as the other. A smirk played on his lips each time you'd discard a material from your body and then another. The look was still the same as deadly as Hades'. A little softer and subtle ton of sin hid under his angelic features. Intoxicating would be the right word for him.

You turn towards the owner of the club just as you hook in your hanging diamond earring, fixing the rhinestone choker "What other works?" you ask confused and a little taken aback at the same time. Mr. Kim (who'd asked you on multiple occasions to just call him Doyoung) was the organized and no 'last minute' booking type of guy. If someone wanted him to do something for them they'd have to let him know that at least a week or two prior. Whether it came to booking a private performance, or booking a VIP seat. It had to be done within a week before the actual work. 

"Come with me." he replied calmly with his hands dug into the pockets of his formal jeans. 

 "Yeah, let me just get my masquerade mask-" 

"Leave it behind". You stand in place, still with the motions of rush still going on around you. Leave the mask behind? That'd reveal part of your identity and that definitely wasn't a part of the club. "Huh?"

"It's a private booking, you don't need the mask, doll" Doyoung exclaimed as though he hadn't just failed to let you know of the private booking before the day. "I don't have any private performances scheduled for today, Doyoung" 

"Now you have, darling. I'm sorry but they're important to this club. And to me." with that he whipped his head towards the exit door before nodding at you to follow behind him.

You quickly discard the loose shirt, opting to wear a robe around your outfit before you follow behind him through the dimly lit, sketchy yet posh passage across the club to the section where tiny cabins were situated. 

You jog slightly to catch up with his long strides while clutching onto the rope of your robe. "Who are they? The oh so important people?" you ask from behind him. 

"Mr. Seo and Mr.Qian." 

"Who?" you inquire, face contorted in confusion at the unfamiliar names. "Let's say, You'll see once we get there." he replied, taking a sharp turn towards the more isolated regions of the club. 

You say nothing in reply, silently following him a few more steps before he comes to an abrupt halt in front of one the cabins at the end of the hallway. He knocked twice on the door, reaching out to the door knob twisting it to unlock the door. 

Names of gods of hell was a smart choice.

 There sat inside the room were the two regulars, looking absolutely sinister in clothing as simple as formal work wear. " Ms. Y/ln at your service just as you asked for" Doyoung spoke up first after stepping into the room. Expecting him to call you by your work name, you were once again taken aback at how he regarded you with your last name but did nothing to correct him, instead chose to stand silently beside him.

' Must be important enough to break his own club rules. '

"We'll take it from here, Thanks Doyoung" smiled the brown haired lad, Hades. 

"My pleasure, Johnny" Doyoung nodded at the other in acknowledgment of his presence before turning back facing you, smiling at you with a tilt of his head and a pat at your robe clad shoulder and headed towards the door with that, exiting the room and leaving you in the closed space with the two men. 

You hear the click of the lock from behind you, only now lifting your gaze from the ground as you shift your weight from one feet to another, looking at one male then the other. Your clothing does nothing to help you feel secure under their eyes, strong enough to make you feel bare with two layers of clothing on your body. Weird how you, the confident on stage with at least 50 or more pairs of eyes on you, was now feeling conscious of yourself in front of just two pairs of eyes. 

"Hi, I'm Raven-" you start, finally shaking off the nervousness to get your job started and done with, something about both looking at you as though they'd devour you whole having you shaking the slightest. 

"Y/n, that's your name, hm?" the one, Johnny, or so called by Doyoung, spoke up, interrupting your mid sentence as the blue haired just leaned forward in his seat, his elbows resting lazily on his knees, absolutely loving the way you were taken aback, the same everyday smirk displayed on his feature. 

"Yes. But here in this club, we go by our code names. Please refer to me as Raven, Sir." you reply, stepping out of daze as you tried keeping your tone as polite as possible. "In this room we go by our real names, doll" he finally spoke up, the one beside Johnny. "I'm Kun. That's Johnny. There, we all know each other's names now" Kun, spoke in a smug tone, eyes darkening shades as they roam around your figure. 

"But sir, that's against the rules of our club" you try explaining, only after scoffing in your mind as you recalled back to how the owner himself went against the rule. "Here, Inside these four walls, the rules to be followed are only to be set by us, that's what we paid for, princess" Johnny beat Kun to speaking up. 

"Yes, sir" you reply after a moment of silence as the two males shifted into a more comfortable position on the leather couch. You stood awkwardly beside the pole in the middle of the room, fumbling with the knot at the center of your stomach, trying so hard not to keep a continuous eye contact with them. 

Dangit. What's it with me today? 

"So, will you put on a show for us now or do we have to wait a little more?" Kun asked with his eyebrows raised. 

"Ah! Yes." you reply quick, making fast steps forward towards the corner of the room where the speaker with a remote on top was situated. You pick up the controller and pressed play, a sensual tune immediately vibrating through the speakers, filling the silent room with the tune. You place the controller back on top of the speaker, inhaling sharply before getting into the mood, shaking off all previous nervousness, instead replacing it with a seductional look and a smirk on your face. 

You run your fingers through your hair, intentionally messing it up to make you look even appealing than you already did. You turn towards the front, walking one leg crossing the other towards the pole, circling it, with just your fingers grazing the cold metal as you stare at them one after the other enough to have them hooked at your doings. 

You give them a wink before lifting a leg up with a push, the other rooted at the base of the pole as you clutch tightly onto the pole for balance while your body twirled around the metal, the robe still on.

You continue playing around the pole, ending the pole segment with a drop down to the ground in a rather seductive way. The tune passed half of the song, changing into a much faster beat to which you finally hooked your fingers onto the knot hiding your black lace dress under, slowly undoing it while their gazes got much harder. Your eyes travel lower on both of their bodies, a soft dent forming over the blue jeans making you feel proud. 

The robe now off, you felt bare than ever with just a black lingerie now adorning your body, but you kept going. You stand dead in front of them as they lean back in their seat. 

You move to the beats, feeling yourself finally let loose as the cockiness of all the attention on you got to your head. 

Lost in beats, you let out a yelp of surprise when you feel your wrist being tugged at, making you stumble steps and land onto Johnny's lap. You stare wide eyed at him as the domineering aura he had made you feel small under his gaze. You grip onto his shoulder for support to keep your bottom half from touching his muscled up ones. "Keep going with the performance, darling" and so you did. 

You'd given lap dances before. But that was at a frat party which was forced and half hearted as it was a stupid dare posed by one your friends. So you were a little nervous as the undying want of making them captivated by you strong enough to overpower the nervousness as you lower yourself and get back to moving to the beats. On Johnny's lap this time around. 

Grinding your hips against the latters, you see from your peripheral Kun's head thrown back as he kneaded himself through the material of his jeans, the sight making you whimper softly as you grind harder against Johnny, earning a groan from him. 

The song comes to an end slowly, the beats slowing down the same way your movements did, completely coming to a halt once the music stopped. You were panting slightly, palms resting against his built chest (you can literally feel the indents under your hands) when you feel yourself being lifted, in a swift motion over from Johnny's lap to Kun's with your back facing his front. 

You look up after having your eyes closed in surprise at the sudden motion only to have Johnny close the space between the two of you, Kun's hands finding their way around your waist. Face buried in your neck. The initial shock of a really good looking guy kissing you while the other played with the skin of your neck washed over your body with a jolt. 

Yes, you're loving the feeling. Having the attention of two absolute sinful men, not to mention, good looking ones was heaven. There's no denying that you felt attracted to them. But it went against your club rules, and most definitely against your morals. So you shake off Johnny, placing your hands between your bodies to create some space between the two of you, "I can't -we can't, if Doyoung finds out I'll lose my job, i can't afford that-" you explain as you cower further into Kun's lap at Johnny's strong gaze, feeling like you've just disappointed him. "Then so be it. You can work for us." he leaned in once again, only to be stopped by you for the second time. "No, we shouldn't-"

"No one gets to know what happens inside these four walls and you get to keep your job, how about that?" Kun offered, mumbling into your neck which had you screwing your eye shut at the sensation, "But this is wrong" you try rationalising. 

"Oh darling this is wrong in all the right ways, don't worry" and with that you let yourself relax onto the man's body, Johnny forcing himself onto you once he heard you heave out a tiny 'okay'.

One hand holding you still against him, Kun let his other hand travel up while Johnny pressed his lips against yours in a teeth clashing kiss, not wasting a second to bite down onto your lower lip to have access into your mouth. You groan out at the feeling of hands all over your body as Kun kneaded your breast, lips traveling up your neck, to your ear lobe which be nibbled on, while giving most of his attention in playing with your breast.

Eyes screwed shut, your body fall limp on top of Kun's body the moment Johnny cupped your heat through the material of your lingerie, the only thought you had being 'fuck morals' when this is how good they're making you without even directly giving attention to the parts you need them the most. Johnny pulled away from your lips, a thin trail of saliva still keeping you connected as he applied pressure on the bundle of nerves through the material of your clothing, well, barely covering clothing.

"You have no idea how long we've waited for this, baby girl." Kun whispered against your hair while shifting his attention to the unattended boob. 

You jerk forward when Johnny enters the clothing, now touching you bare. The feeling of his cold fingers against your sex had your head roll back and rest against Kun's shoulder. "That feels good, right baby?" Johnny inquires while using his thumb to apply pressure on your clit, drawing small circles on the swollen bud the same time Kun pinched the sensitive bud of your chest, making you able to only nod your head at the lads question, "Words, baby. Use your words"

The expression on Johnny's face had you thinking better than wanting to disobey him, "Yes!" you moan out at the increase of speed in stimulation as Johnny's other hand helped keep your legs apart. "Yes what, doll?" 

"Yes, s-sir.. " you mewl, feeling a familiar knot form at the bottom of your stomach making your face contort into an expression of pure bliss. "There we go" he cooed, moving his attention from your clit to the entrance, plunging two fingers in straight into the wetness as your sleek wall gave enough access to do so, immediately setting a fast pace, coaxing you to your first high with a shudder in your body.  Johnny kept his fingers moving to help ride out your high while you feel Kun shift behind you, "My turn" 

You feel yourself being lifted off of his lap and placed on the couch. You hiss when you feel Johnny remove his fingers from within you and into his mouth, licking your juice clean off his fingers. But you don't get much time to intake the sight as you feel soft muscles working their way on your now sensitive core. You look down to see Kun buried between your legs. You were probably too dazed to notice him drag your lingerie bottom down and place himself there. 

You whimper as he circled his tongue over your clit while Johnny took his place beside you, kneading himself the same way Kun was a few moments ago. You close your eyes tight at the feeling of Kun's mouth working wonders at your core, a mixture of moans and curses leaving your mouth, "You taste so fucking sweet, baby" the vibrations of his voice sent shocks of pleasure down your core, added to that a finger being inserted into the the messy hole triggered your second high,

 "Kun oh!-"

The sounds of him lapping at your juices made your skin heat up, blood rushing up your cheeks while you choke out a sob at the faint pain you're now feeling at the continuous stimulation. 

"You did so well, baby" Johnny hushes you while Kun still kept going. Johnny caressed your hair, trying to distract you from the aftermath of being overstimulated. 

The feeling being too overwhelming, you finally close your legs over Kun's head, making him come to a halt as he leaned back from his kneeling position. The lighting in the room highlighted the wetness on his chin and lips as you finally got some time to catch your breath.

"Who's going first?" Kun inquired, looking more at Johnny than you while wiping the residue using the back of his hands. Instead of considering giving a reply, Johnny looked at you with tilt in his head and a smirk on his face while you shy away from their gaze. "she'll take both of us like the little slut she is, isn't that right baby?" he asked, a probably rhetorical question while his gaze stayed hard. At the lack of response from your side, Kun took a step forward, bending down slightly, reaching out to clutch your face a soft yet firm grip, forcing you to look at him. 

"Aren't you going to answer him, doll?" 

"Yes, Johnny." you answer, mind a little clouded to think straight but still managed to form coherent sentences, enough to give a proper reply. "The pleasure really got to you, huh baby?" Johnny inquired, standing up while working on undoing his belt, "It's sir for you slut. Get on your knees. Now"

You scramble quick onto your feet, mumbling a silent 'I'm sorry, sir' and dropped down on to your knees, hissing at the slight irritational burn between your legs but had no time to get distracted with it as the lad in front of you placed himself right before you, tugging harshly at your chin to make you look up to his eyes, "I don't think i need to tell you what to do from here, baby. Get to work" And so you did, you were about to reach out to grip the shaft when you felt Kun rub at the skin of your ass, while providing a soothing feeling for a second before you felt his hands come down with force, making you yelp out of shock with your mouth wide open. 

Taking this chance, Johnny let go of your chin, finding comfort in the warmth of your locks instead, pushing himself forward and forcing his hardness into your mouth, groaning at the feeling of your tongue being flat laid out below his member. "You look fucking stunning like this, princess" 

Focused on the sounds coming out of Johnny's voice, determined to pull out more, you start bobbing your head forward and backwards, taking in as much as you could each time you pulse forward. You try relaxing your jaw and focus on your breathing as much as possible, to try and not activate your gag reflex when Johnny's hips start thrusting his hips forward, following the same rhythm as your head making the head hit the back of your throat, sending jolts all over your body. 

Too focused on making Johnny feel good, you fail to notice Kun enter you from behind, slowly pulsing inch by inch into your still sore wetness, catching you by surprise as you let out a throaty moan, spending waves of pleasure up Johnny's body, pulling him closer and closer to his high. 

"How fucking wet." You hear Kun groan from behind you while slowly starting to move his hips once he had completely eased into you, making you lose your rhythm you'd kept for pleasing Johnny, stilling and letting him fuck your mouth instead. 

"She's so fucking wet, John. And wet. You're a little whore for all this, aren't you?" the blue haired lad questioned as though expecting an answer, "you love being used like this, don't you?" 

Too occupied with being stuffed with a cock in your mouth and Kun picking up his pace from behind you, all you could do was lean forward and balance yourself on all four while letting them take care of your pleasure and theirs. 

You feel Johnny's hip stutter, seemingly getting closer and closer to the edge of the cliff. His face contorted in pleasure, seeming desperate to chase his high. The vibrations from your moans and whimpers only dragged him closer, added to the fact how you sucked on his shaft like your life depended on it.

"I'm going to come, baby. You'll be a good girl and swallow all of me, right?" He asked, while buck forward from a rather hard thrust from behind, Kun's groans mixed with yours and Johnny's slightly high pitched ones, along with the sound of skin slapping pulled you close to your high too. 

Unable to answer with being stuffed, you nod your head as much as you could while flattening your tongue out and giving one last hard suck, earning a loud groan from Johnny as he came to a halt, thrusting slowly to empty himself completely in you and partly to ride out his high, you keep your mouth wide open to allow him to do so, while screwing your eyes shut while Kun reached out from beneath you, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves and drawing quick circles on it. 

Once Johnny pulled out, you immediately swallow all of his essence, not wasting a drop of it while letting out a sob when a particular thrust had Kun finding your soft spot, coaxing you closer to your high making you convulse around his shaft, "Open up, babygirl" Johnny tapped at your cheeks, while his chest heaved up and down. You open, showing him that you'd down aa he asked you to, and immediately closed it again, pulling at your bottom lips when Kun's ministration grew faster and hurried on your clit, "I'm so fucking close, baby. So, so fucking close" 

And that was shown by how sloppy his thrusts had gotten. Johnny mumbled out a soft 'good girl' and flopped down onto the leather couch while watching his friend destroy your core. 

You reach your high with a loud cry, closing around Kun even frequently that before as pleasure finally turned into pain, your core practically begging for a breather. Your whimpers, and the constant opening and closing around his shaft threw him off the edge as you felt his member twitch inside you before warm fluid shot up inside your sex. Kun whimpered out praises while slowly pulling out once he'd completely emptied himself inside you, running his hands up and down your back in a comforting manner while Johnny looked at your face. Tears running down your cheeks from the constant stimulation, sweat from previous doings and hair disheveled by his grip on it. Drool rolling slightly down the side of your face while yours and Kun's essence spilled out from your core down your thighs.

You were feeling ecstatic. A warmth from being so full. The feeling could be mistaken as love;

"You're incredible, doll" Kun let out with an airy chuckle while Johnny agreed along

But you knew it was the opposite of it and so did the other two in the room. 

It was the feeling of your desires being fulfilled. 

[berrydoodleoo]

big bro gladio

This was just supposed to be a few quick headcanons? Instead it’s a fic. Less dialogue and action than I usually put in my fics, but eh. Anyway, have my thoughts about Gladio and his relationships growing up.

***

Like Noct, Gladio has spent his life on guard against false friends.

When he was seven, his dad pulled him aside after weapons training. “I don’t want you hanging out with that boy Lycus anymore,” he said, apropos of nothing as far as Gladio could tell. 

Shocked and angry, Gladio pestered him for an explanation, and eventually Dad said it was ‘a potential security issue’. Gladio spent hours trying to visualize how Lycus could be a threat to him -- Gladio was bigger and stronger, Lycus was hilarious and fast on the field but had no combat training whatsoever -- when he realized that wasn’t the point at all. Lycus could be a threat to Noctis. And as ever, anything that happened to Gladio was actually about someone else instead.

He imagined that his Dad had caught Lycus doing something when he stayed over. Going through his office, maybe, or trying to get into the weapons cabinet. He doesn’t mean to, but somehow the rest of the class turns against Lycus as well, and he stops speaking up in class, stops being funny and starts being mean. But not to Gladio; Gladio doesn’t talk to him anymore. As ordered.

Later, he learned that Lycus’ dad was in an argument with the King about infrastructure development in his district. That was all it was.

It’s not that he doesn’t forgive his father -- there are lots of things he’ll never forgive him for, but he’s learned to live with them -- it’s that he’ll never stop resenting him for it. Hating him, for making Gladio an instrument of his thoughtless cruelty.

~

It’s not that he envies Noct. Yeah, Gladio has to guard him, but Noct also has to guard himself, all in preparation for his future as the King. And Gladio has seen how the King lives.

Early in his training, he spent a lot of time trailing his Dad around, just seeing how things worked. After Noct’s thirteenth birthday, the press suddenly shifted their attention from the Prince (who they speculated about wildly -- was he doing well in school? Did he have friends, a girlfriend, post-traumatic stress disorder? Did he cry at his mother’s grave every year?) to the King. Was he planning to remarry?

Remarry? The King?

Gladio wasn’t sure where the question came from, but when it hit, it hit everywhere. Every state banquet was suddenly an opportunity for photos of the King and his conversation partners, accompanied by endless speculation about what that smile meant, that hand shake, that choice of drink, or tie, or watch, and so on. If the person they targeted didn’t answer their questions, they became the target of even more speculation. It wasn’t just the gutter press, either. Gladio turned on the TV at prime time one day and was shocked to see an hour-long special about the King, his courtship and marriage with the Queen, and the potential legal issues surrounding his (rumored) remarriage. They were going to have a special segment about the Prince, with a psychologist to talk about step-families and trauma.

Gladio turned it off, feeling voyeuristic. Everyone in the Citadel was tense after that, bristling with rage, but there was nothing they could do about any of it.

Gladio, in his role as his father’s obedient shadow, was also made privy to a top-level conversation on the topic between Clarus, Cor, and Drautos. Some of the figures pursued by the press had merely been caught in the crossfire, they concluded. Others were attempting to use the publicity to their advantage, which was not a problem for their offices. A few, maybe, had real aims on the King, and ‘love’ didn’t seem to be an option they even considered. Clarus ordered thorough security checks and surveillance on the biggest names, and the whole thing made Gladio sick.

But it didn’t end there. A few weeks later, to Gladio’s horror, the Council had their own version of this discussion, this time with a political slant. All directly in front of the King himself. His Majesty didn’t seem perturbed by the discussion -- he exchanged a Glance with his Shield, but remained otherwise unreadable -- and yet Gladio burned with embarrassment and indignation for him.

~

So as much as Gladio resents Noct sometimes, he also pities him. And so he guards himself, socializes carefully, makes friends among the children of his father’s associates, and never gets too close to anyone.

In high school, he falls in love once, and he’s too busy with dates that ended in making out and heavy petting to notice at first. When he did, he broke it off immediately, cited some excuse about his duties and his dad not thinking the relationship was a good idea. All he could think about was getting away, getting away, getting away. When he got home, his heart was still pounding, and he checked all the locks and codes twice. Was he scared, or guilty?

When they told him they’d confronted his father, his heart stopped. He was certain he was about to be caught in his lie. But the rambling, teary argument that followed revealed that Clarus had been sympathetic but firm, and had invented a completely false conversation to back up Gladio’s falsehoods. 

Afterwards, he never brought it up with his son, and Gladio never asked.

~

After high school, in the Crownsguard, Gladio makes a new set of friends. Many of them are older than him and worldly in ways he isn’t. They have their own routines, which Gladio is indoctrinated in. The whole idea of ‘friends with benefits’ was a pretty sweet deal, he felt, especially since these ‘friends’ often went out on assignment afterwards and he never had to see them again.

(Except Ignis. They only hook-up once -- okay, twice -- or maybe three times -- but they don’t talk about it. More than the weapons training or survival courses, it’s the most dangerous thing they’ve ever done.)

At the same time, fifteen-year-old Noct makes his first friend. Prompto. Weird kid, goofy, but likeable. Not cool, really, but then, neither is Noctis. They spend their time goofing around, playing video games and doing homework. Unlike Gladio’s ‘friends’, Prompto stayed, and Gladio was happy for it. Noct needed a friend.

Not like Gladio. Gladio didn’t need anything.

~

During his training with the Kingsglaive, Gladio developed a reputation of sorts. He was known for taking people on flashy dates to exclusive clubs (getting in was effortless, for him), hooking up, and then moving on. All perfectly friendly and above board. He worked himself to exhaustion all week, spent most of his weekend in bed with someone new, and went back to the routine again on Monday. Never the same person twice.

His peers admired him for it. His Dad asked a few questions, and when Gladio snapped, he backed off with a scowl. Iris … Gladio convinced himself she didn’t know what was happening.

Noct and Prompto started dating then, too. It was a terrible idea, and Gladio knew it, but it was clear the kids were in love and besides, he’d seen how the King lived. How Noct would one day live. Hell, he was already half-inside the bubble anyway. He covered for them, even from Ignis for a while (and boy did Ignis give him shit for that), and then he and Ignis covered for them together.

It was good. Nothing was missing, everything was in its place. It was good.

~

When the treaty discussions start up, Gladio ends his dalliances with his fellow Glaives and ‘Guard members. He needs to be focused. No holes in his, and thus in Noct’s, security; no gaps someone could wriggle their way through. It’s easier than he thought it would be. He takes up reading to fill his sudden spare time.

Before the betrothal is announced, Prompto and Noct stop … doing whatever they’d been doing. Noct called it ‘hooking up’, but couldn’t quite pull off the lie. Prompto started training with the Crownsguard, and Gladio had to stand by and watch Prompto run, face-first, into the same hook-up culture he’d just left behind. It was different, from this angle. He didn’t like that Prompto was getting off with people he didn’t know. He didn’t like how they didn’t care about him, how they used bad pickup lines and groped him in public. How they didn’t know about his photos, or his parents, or the kitchen scale on his counter, or his obsessive knowledge about calorie counts and chocobos.

They didn’t love Prompto, but Noct did. From a distance. The kid had turned into a good actor at some point

Prompto got pulled into the wash cycle of hook-ups and break-ups fast enough, but Noct continued on alone. More and more his eyes came to resemble panes of glass, from which something shadowy and mute peered out in silence.

~

After Altissa, Gladio starts sleeping beside Ignis. Just sleeping. They end up spooned together most of the time, Gladio at Ignis’s back, looking out into the darkness that Ignis can’t see. Guarding him from it. Ignis is weird, strangely muted and palpably discouraged, but he clutches back at Gladio as hard as Gladio clutches him.

~

In Zegnautus Keep, Gladio wakes one morning to see Noct and Prompto talking. They know he’s up and moving, their conversation soft and halting behind him. He hears when they fall into a kiss, and stays turned away, giving them their privacy. His face is burning but he’s also amused, a little heartsick, and quietly happy for them.

It’s the last morning the four of them will have together, although they don’t know it yet. Further in the Keep, the crystal and the darkness are waiting. Even further in the distance, a blood-stained dawn calls their names.

~

As they set out into the Keep again, Noct pauses and looks at him. At Gladio. His eyes are full of questions and uncertainty, like a kid who needs to hear that everything will be okay. That he’s done everything right.

“What?” Gladio asks, confused.

Noct just sighs. “Nothing.”

Gladio stares at his downturned face a moment longer, trying to figure him out. He doesn’t think he’s done anything to make him mad. 

“All right,” Gladio says finally -- dubiously -- and without another word, he leads the way.

[sneezy-cheeseloaf]

recounting the entire avengers: endgame movie, which i only saw once when it came out, from memory

because i just took the SAT and i want to do anything except think about that so get ready for a fun ride full of holes and my reenactments of scenes and quotes that i remember from however many years it’s been now since endgame came out. buckle the fuckle up

movie opens, clint’s whole ass family fucking dies. cue killing spree fueled by grief and anger. HashTag Relatable

tony is floating through space with nebula and teaching her how to play paper football

holy shit is this how tony dies

“pep” ouc h

oh hey he’s home, dope

The Gang (tm) learns where thanos’s farm is somehow i can’t really remember

“perhaps i judged you too harshly”

“???? thor????” “what? i went for the head”

“five” five what?? days?? weeks??? months???? oh boy i can’t wait to find ou- “years later” HUH???????

steve looks the exact same, so i guess he kept up that workout schedule even through the snap. i mean good for him honestly

and is also running a talk therapy group like sam did

a single smidgen of gay representation but it’s a good start ig

i don’t really remember what everyone else was doing, i just know that tony and pep have morgan now but idk if that gets revealed now or later

the only reason we had a movie is because of a rat. everyone say thank you to Rat for releasing scott lang, please. round of applause

scott’s daughter is all grown up and catch me sobbing over the fact that he wasn’t there to see it

somewhere in here nat is crying and eating a sandwich and honestly girl same

“hey!!! it’s me!!!! scott lang!!! ant man???? also what the hell happened???? lemme IN”

cue scott lang having a single brain cell and bringing up time travel. i think it was him that proposed the idea. maybe not. but imma give him credit

oh yeah bruce and hulk are besties now and bruce is just permanently Like That

and cue everyone being shook at the idea of time travel

time to go see Science Man at his house on the lake

“i wish you had come for anything else.” ouch

gang leaves dejectedly

peter. that’s it. and suddenly tony is all hands on deck

cue science mumbo jumbo in the middle of the night while he eats something out of a bag that i can’t remember

“shit!!” “sHiT!!!” “NO”

“i love you 3000″

Science Man reveals that he has, indeed cracked the code to literal time travel

cue nat, the only person with an umbrella, going to find clint who is busy with murder, as he does

“don’t do that. don’t give me home” stfu budapest man and get in the car.

thor has. enlargened. and is now playing fortnight with korg as a means to cope with what happened plus losing loki, as i think we all would

The Gang is back together and working (surprisingly) coordinately and throwing ideas around and it’s actually very cute. and it makes my heart very happy. and i want to cry every time i think about it because we all know what comes next

scott’s taco gets blown away. bruce gives him another. all is well in the world

and in this exhibit we see the only brain cell in the whole group, which is being used by rhodey at all times

“why don’t we just,,,, (choking motion)” “to a BABY???”

during the time tests someone gets reverted to a baby but i don’t remember who and it’s highkey disturbing

“i consider this an absolute win!!”

cue slo mo walk with the cool white time suits that everyone looks so good in

“see you in a minute” that smile. she looks so happy. sobbing

i think it’s in here that all the color go through steve’s eyes, so let’s just take a minute to acknowledge how pretty he is

“just for the record, that suit did nothing for your ass.” “i don’t remember asking you to look”

“that’s america’s ass.” yes it is scott you’re absolutely right

“i cOuLd dO tHiS aLL dAy” “yeah i knoOoOW”

time for tony to give tony a heart attack and then just stare in what i can only assume is amusement. i’m pretty sure that comes after america’s ass but maybe not

somewhere in here steve is just staring at peggy through blinds and it’s sad when you see it but when you think about it afterwards, it’s so funny for no reason

time to get whacked by a very angry hulk who was not allowed to use the elevator

“NO STAIRS”

tony goes flying. so does the tesseract. loki, in handcuffs, is like “oh bet this is mine now” and. Leaves.

i’m pretty sure it’s bruce who goes and gets schooled by The Ancient One on the multiverse, and i say it’s bruce because i think he’s the only one out of The Gang who could ever actually wrap his head around it

i don’t remember exactly how they get the tesseract but they do

thor and rocket are in asgard and thor has a panic attack, as I think we all would if we had to talk to our dead mother and pretend like we don't know what's going to happen

and remember kids, slapping someone is not the way to handle a panic attack. anyways

a mother always knows

"i'm still worthy!!!!" you always were, thor. you never stopped being worthy

and we have our hammer back

cue sobbing on vormir

“clint. it’s ok. it’s ok.” that smile.

nat’s fucking dead and i’m fucking dead inside let’s keep this party goin

other stones are recovered and i don’t really remember how but hey we got all six

“where’s nat?” cue more sobbing from me and from clint as you can see each and every team member’s heart drop to the fucking floor. especially steve

yeah maybe we’re doing this for half the universe and all the people we lost, but mostly for nat now

tony’s makeshift infinity gauntlet has entered the chat

Green Man is the only one who can physically take the power of the stones, so the fate of literally everything they have ever done up to this point is on him

snap rest in peace bruce’s arm

cue every single person in the theater holding their breath

“guys. it worked.”

cue explosion as their facility gets bombed and i am terrified that it has killed the entire gang

but it obviously has not and i am once again a Class A Idiot

i can't remember if it’s steve or tony who wakes up first but one shakes the other awake and is like “get the fuck up bitch idk what just happened but we got a problem”

everyone is mostly fine. but they’re all alive and that’s what matters

and now we have the setting for the entire rest of the movie basically

oh hey thanos. that’s uh. that’s a big army you got there

i don’t really remember everything that happened with The Past thanos, gamora, and nebula but i remember that gamora once again sees what a twat her adoptive father is and is like “oh hell na”

cue the gang fighting for their lives against Past thanos. literally

oh shit thor’s about to be killed????

OH MY GOD HE HAS THE HAMMER

cue the theater screaming as they should

hell yeah. bonk that giant space grape with the god of thunder’s hammer. you go steve. and look like a badass doing it as you should

shit’s still fucked and they eventually get their asses handed to them one by one

somewhere in here the shield breaks just like we saw in age of ultron. and like damn bro i liked that thing

steve stands up by himself because bitch. you cant kill him unless he says so. he dies on his own terms. he didn’t live for over a fucking century to die like this

our mans is standing up against a whole ass army knowing full well that he can’t win but damn if he aint ready to try

“ok listen strange. you have to open the portal to his left. his LEFT. you hear me???”

“steve. STEVE. on your left.”

cue the most goosebump-inducing scene that i have ever seen and probably will ever see. i would do anything to see that scene for the first time again. that feeling was like nothing i’ve ever experienced

the amazing symphonics are NOT helping my already-about-to-explode-from-excitement heart

now the gang’s ALL here. and we all cry because all of our peeps are back from the dead and we all missed them and highkey grieved for them after infinity war

i can’t remember if steve actually sees bucky yet but i think he does and i wanted to cry on the spot because not only did i miss bucky but man did i just want them to see each other again

cue sick pan of the whole ass marvel roster like smash ultimate, including howard duck somewhere in there

PETER OUR BOY SWINGIN ON IN

“AVENGERS. assemble.” “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

but we all know damn well that not a single person could hear him whisper that shit. like steve bro speak up a little

and the battle for the ages commences

we get to see all our favorite boys are girls fuck shit up and it’s absolutely incredible. wow it really feels like someone’s missing who could that be.

this is now a very elaborate game of keepaway

“catch” “Catch” “CATCH “CATCH”

“hey queens” he remembered. catch me cryin

“hey peter. got somethin for me?” god i love her. flew through a whole ass spaceship. no stoppin her

t'challa remembers clint's name. he did care

oh yeah scott is fucking humongous again, but third time’s the charm ig. maybe he won't pass the fuck out this time

somewhere in here, strange starts holding like. an entire ocean back and i dont really remember where it came from

we get a whole segment of marvel women kicking ass and taking names and i think i just need to take a minute. WE collectively need to take a minute

carol flies straight through a spaceship and everyone is like ???? hello????? where have you been?????????

carol gets literally headbutted by thanos and doesnt move a fucking inch. and that look of murder in her eyes. she could tell me to walk into a pit of lava and i would not question it. the power

“launch the missiles!!!” “but sir, our army-” “DO IT”

damn thanos our expectations for you were low but holy fuck

somewhere in here i think petter quill sees Past gamora and is like gamora???? and she like kicks him in the balls or somethin and is like “this is the ones i picked?????”

the fight continues and honestly a lot of it’s a blur but damn was it not the coolest thing i’ve ever seen. 

cue strange knowing exactly how this was gonna go down, and holding up a single finger

i dont think ive ever seen that look on tony's face before

oh shit thanos has the gauntlet and all the stones. fuck.

wait holdup that gauntlet looks a little funky

WAIT HOLDUP

“i am inevitable”

“and i. am iron man.”

the theater, once again holds its breath

all is lowkey calm and everyone is shook

thanos’s entire army slowly fades away. including one of those big worm things that almost eats (i think it was) rocket but like. dusts right as it hits the ground and is a really cool shot

and thanos sits down on a rock. and finally is gone. and it's so cathartic

oh joyous day!! they’ve won!! they’ve done it!!! wait holdup where’s tony. i remember what happened to bruce where the fuck is tony

wait

wait hold on

wait hold on a minute

“we did it. we won, mr stark. we won. please, mr stark”

“pep.”

“it’s ok. you can rest. you can rest.”

i have officially passed away and am a sobbing mess. you can’t do this to me. he’s gonna come back. there’s no way. tony stark doesn’t die. no.

this is a fucking funeral. i am going to combust into tears

“proof that tony stark has a heart”

i just wanted him to be able to see morgan grow up.

but him and nat are eating shawarma together in the sky now.

“i’m recording this in case something goes wrong, which it won’t.”

“i love you 3000.”

oh we’re still rolling. oh we don’t even get a minute to process

steve is leaving??? wait holdup we cant lose both. no

“are you sure about this?” “i have to”

“i’m with you til the end of the line” so that was a fucking lie

but steve deserves to do what makes him happy. so i can’t be too mad. actually, nah i aint even mad i’m just sad

bucky looks so dejected. so sad. someone please give him a hug. he desperately needs it

oh hey steve. but you’re old now. hey then, grandpa. how did you. get there

buck and sam go talk to him as they should

“you wanna talk about her?” “no, i don’t think i will”

“how does it feel?” “like it belongs to someone else”

sam has officially inhered the shield, and by extension, his very own bucky barnes. it’s a packaged deal

clint’s got his family back. and they can finally finish their picnic or whatever they were doing at the beginning of the movies

and steve finally got that dance. finally. and he looks so happy. so content.

and that’s about all i remember

i have not watched endgame since i saw it in theaters when it came out because i absolutely do not have the emotional stability to do it again. but damn the disney plus shows have been bangin

i hope you enjoyed the ride, thank you for joining me in my. whatever the fuck this is

[insane-control-room]

The Linework

Chapter Two, Segment One

Previous (3.1.5) - Next

Masterpost

Ao3 Full Chapter Link

Wiring

Henry and Joey slumped onto the couch, exhausted.

Johan had forgotten how exhausting it was to be a father, and to add in all the legalities that were added in with the fact that the children were, well, not humans, the whole of the law drained his energy below the baseline.

He was so grateful that Henry was with him to help him get through all of it. Without him….

Well.

He did not want to think about that.

Bertrum, Lacie, Allison, and Susie had all been huge helps as well - not to mention the whole of the studio. Additionally, Dot had offered to babysit for a raise, to which Joey readily agreed - it was just nearing spring, afterall, so even if the government allowed the kids into school, it would still be a long time until classes would start again.

Another thing that twisted Joey’s heart strings were the ages of the children; not quite babies, not quite adolescents, but toddlers. 

Right where he left off with… her.

He was unsure if he was grateful for that or saddened, both sides awkwardly appealing and strangely comforting. To Henry, who had raised Linda, virtually alone (at least he was rather alone until Joey got into the picture), having three little ones running around was only a level up from what he was used to, especially with who little Linda’s best friend was. 

Joey looked over at Henry. His eyes were closed, fingers interlocked and resting over his stomach, his breathing slow and even, yet he was not sleeping. Joey always knew when Henry was asleep.

Johan scooted his way towards him on the couch, curling up to rest his head on his lap. Henry’s hands instantly found their way into his paintbrush hair, running through it over and over.

“What the hell did you do, Joey Drew?” Henry murmured. Johan stiffened, eyes closing tightly, brows arching in thought. He knew this question would come up eventually, and he did not quite know how to face it. “I’m not mad. Really. It’s simply important that I understand.”

“I think I made a mistake in coding,” he mumbled in answer. “I mean, I… I definitely did. B-but it’s not so simple as finding and removing it, ‘cause it’s not a bug, at least not according to the laws of this world. After reprogramming it again, I rewrote the love of death as a love of l-life. And those kids… man, if they aren’t full of life.”

“They’re…” Henry tried to think of words to describe how he was feeling. Incredulous, shocked, happy, afraid, anticipatory. He could not figure out how to word it, so he just went with, “Wow.”

“Mm. You’re wow,” Joey smiled against Henry’s leg, kissing his knee. Henry chuckled, scratching behind Joey’s ear. Joey vibrated, a rumble deep in his chest. Henry laughed quietly. “What?”

“I can see where Bo gets that from,” Henry’s voice calmed Johan, his eyes drifting shut. “Scratches and purring. I was wondering where the second one got picked up from.”

“It is not purring!” Johan remarked indignantly, until Henry grinned devilishly, scratching him right where his jaw met his ear, making his eyes flutter shut, the rumble repeating, louder, accompanied by a quiet whimper. “Mm, ah… Henry… Henry… good….”

“More?” Henry asked, grinning. Joey nodded, eyes closed, a smile gracing his lips, bliss and rapture the entirety of his expression. As soon as Henry continued to adorn Joey with soft touches and sweet comments, a cry came from the kids’ shared bedroom. Henry groaned, Joey grumbling a quiet complaint, but getting up anyways. He returned to the living room with Alice curled up in his arms, her cheeks slightly stained with tears from a nightmare, but now her face was one of tranquility. Henry smiled softly, patting her cheek, cleaning up the small streaks of acetone tears. Part of him wondered why it did not burn through her skin, the other not daring to question it, merely glad that it did not. “She’s so cute.”

“Just like her father,” Joey smiled, pressing a kiss to both of their foreheads, and ran his hand over his girl’s curly blonde hair. The halo that his arm went through sent odd tingles up his arm, like he hit his funny bone, but about five minutes later. “She looks so much like you….”

“And Bendy looks like you,” Henry sighed, wrapping his arm around Joey’s shoulders, leaning his head against his arm. “Boris… well, he’s interesting. Not really sure what I was expecting for him. Not that I was expecting any of them at all.”

“Neither was I,” Joey yawned. Alice snuggled against his chest, holding onto his pin, sucking on her wrist. He looked down at her, eyes strangely misted over, face neutral. Henry could sense that something was heading down wrong paths in Johan’s mind, twisting his thoughts, and Henry hugged him best he could from his vantage point. Joey sighed, sinking into the couch, crumbling into something miserable. “Am I a bad dad, Ray? I feel like I’m running around like a headless chicken. Shouldn’t I be better at this already? After Aramis, after Linda?”

“What?! No, not at all,” Henry assured him. “You’re a better dad than I am, hell, that’s one of the reasons Diane and I broke up, because she saw I wasn’t very good at taking care of Linda, always sending her to my parents, not really being around for her, and when she saw how good you were with kids… well, she got jealous. It brought tension into the relationship. Because of how good of a dad you are.”

“So you’re telling me that you lost out on a normal relationship because of me?” Johan asked, dismayed. Henry laughed, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. “What? It’s true, ain’t it?”

“Not at all, smartypants,” Henry kissed him softly. “We both could see it. She was happy that I was falling in love with you for who you are, Joey. Not because she was upset. She saw that we would be better together, but I constantly denied it, and then I proposed, and now the rest is history. It’s us together now, right? And you’re an amazing father, and I couldn’t ask for anyone else to be a dad with me.”

“Really?” Joey questioned, worriedly chewing on his lip. Henry kissed him again, replying, “Absolutely, you blind fool. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Henry,” Johan mumbled, blushing like a schoolboy. “A-and I mean the same for you. T-to be a dad with you.”

Again, the box under the couch cushions beckoned to him. Would this not be ideal? Would it not be blissfully sweet and romantic? Would it not be wonderful?

Henry’s arm came over his shoulder again, and Joey opened his mouth, yet his courage failed him once more, leaving him to close his mouth slowly, trying to think of what he would even say.

“You’ve been acting weird, lately,” Henry told him, raising an eyebrow. Johan sputtered, his red eyes wide and incredulous. “Almost jumpy.”

“I’m always jumpy.”

“Not this much.”

“That’s very debatable.”

“Oh, hush,” Henry frowned, folding his arms over his chest. Johan missed their warmth immediately, but Alice in his arms prevented him from reaching towards Henry. “There’s something bothering you again, isn't there?”

“Nope.”

“Yuh-huh.”

“Nada.”

“You can be such a liar sometimes, Joey Drew,” Henry’s frown morphed into a scowl. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing, promise.”

“Real promise?”

“Cross my heart.”

[hoshigomi]

Kurenai-ing! a (not) review~

This is NOT a review, but it IS all my thoughts on Kurenai Yuzuru’s first concert as an OG, Kurenai-ing!! in chronological order as they happened in the show. These thoughts are:

Biased

All over the place

Unfiltered

Honest

Every single one of them is loving and positive

Without further ado!

To start off, from the day this was announced, there was absolutely No Way In Hell I was going to miss this show. They found a way to cast all my favorite OGs, somehow including Uzuki Hayate who wasn’t even ever IN Hoshigumi, (save for Airi and Kai, F, but I see Kai like every day). Today was emotionally weird and I felt off heading to the theatre but honestly, before the lights even went down, when BENIKO began her preshow speech over the intercom? Any bad thing that’s ever been in my life just MELTED away.

The evening started off with “紅 in Male Role” which was just her as you’re used her her in otokoyaku mode. The whole cast got introduced. My love, Ichijou Azusa was the first onstage which rocked. Everyone did Killer Rouge. There was something REALLY sweet about seeing like a bunch of people who Were in Killer Rouge vs. a bunch of people who Weren’t In Killer Rouge all slaying it. Watching Toshi do this number made me daydream about a universe where she was in Hoshigumi and also a universe where I’m married to her. This daydream repeated itself multiple times throughout the evening so I’m gonna denote those moments with a (**). Whenever you see (**) know I was thinking about being probably married to Uzuki Hayate. This was the only point in the show in which I was skeptical of the men being there. I don’t LIKE men, period, but I especially don’t need them in my Takarazuka- adjacent material. (They quickly changed my mind in the next bit of the show.) After the men and Beni all dipped offstage, our Lovely Flawless Incredible OGs (Ichijou Azusa, Kisaragi Ren, Uzuki Hayate, Toa Reiya, Katori Reira, and Umesaki Eve, sang Sayonara Minasama (yeah like... the song they play when people retire or when QR is closing or when they need you to Get Out Of The Theatre.) No one could hear it because everyone was busy laughing. Renta was, as expected, completely unhinged, Shiiran was fake crying, it was a disaster because honestly, I don’t know who looked at these women and was like ‘yeah let’s give them free reign of the stage what’s the worst that could happen?’ It was one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen, and then, the curtain just straight up went down as if the show ended.

Of course it DIDN’T. NEXT UP?

BENIKO! She’s back in all her long haired leopard print glory, strutting through the audience through the stage- this time waiting for her? two pieces of mancandy (Kominami Ryuhei and Tagoku Tsubasa) at her beck and call in the ??? PALACE OF VERSAILLES, I GUESS? This was, as all Beniko bits, an improv standup show with a more than a touch of drag sensibility. There was some booty shaking, some fake muscle suits on the slender men, and a lot of laughter. I had tears in my eyes and I have NEVER heard a Japanese audience make this much noise. One of the guys made Beni break when he laughed in the middle of his line, causing Beni to buckle over and snort into her water, it was just.. a treat. These men were NOT equipped to handle Beniko- but then, without practice, who is?

When this all ended, there was a BURST of flame on the screen and standing, sihouetted in backlight, was Toshi(**), looking like (**) I dunno like the worlds hottest woman rockstar (**) and if that wasn’t enough (**) then she STARTED SINGING AND YOU GUYS?

WHAT THE FUCK?

I feel like a lot of things that have happened in Takarazuka are unjust, including several Top Star Careers That Never Were, but as of tonight, the TOP OF THAT LIST is that Toshi never MADE IT. Also that like I never made it to her ochakai. There is another world out there where Toshi has been My Person since day one and I am still in her fanclub to this day. I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t like  searching her name on Twitter as we speak trying to find out what Her OG club deal right now is, not that I need to be in ANOTHER OG club, (long story,), but GOD. Holy hell. Her voice is absolutely TOP notch and she was (**) BELTING out this introductory piece and I don’t think I breathed during the whole thing. It was HARD ROCK (**) you guys. (**) (**) (***********************************************************************************************)

From there we had a Takarazuka Medley (labeled in the program as “紅 in neutral”- sense a theme here?)

The medley featured bits from:

Lucky Star!

Gemini (Beni’s infamous girl/boy number from Etoile)

Bouquet de Takarazuka

Stuck Together from Catch Me If You Can, (featuring Renta as Kai’s part, which, oof, I can not wait for Kai to get to see.)

Estrellas

The theme song from Kamatari

Another World (just the first bars of this backing music got laughs)

Om Shanti Om

the God of Stars prologue (and you guys? I would have NEVER expected it but both me and the lady next to me just started CRYING once Beni kicked in with the 今！始まる！素敵な冒険！ bit. We shared a look and like laughed at ourselves. I did NOT see that coming but... more thoughts on Benigumi later. Just know that Dear Reader, I cried.)

Eclair Brillant

Bolero

A Piece of Courage

A song that the program cites as Quimbara which I actually didn’t recognize but (NSFW BELOW, DON’T LOOK IF YOU’RE UNDERAGE, DON’T LOOK IF YOU’RE HANKYU, DON’T LOOK IF YOU’RE GONNA SLIDE INTO MY DMS ABOUT ME NEEDING TO HONOR THE SUMIRE CODE OR WHATEVER because shut UP we all have DESIRES, MA’AM,) I spent the whole time with my eyes fucking transfixed on Shiiran out of everyone in the cast because between her time on the ground and her time idk standing and flirting and making bedroom eyes and like touching people with the tips of her fingers she was just in general doing some NASTY shit with her mouth and pulling girls around and I don’t know if she was playing aggressor or hard to get (or BOTH???? AT THE SAME TIME????) but she sure was grinding on Umesaki Eve and I guess what I’m trying to say is I could physically not breathe. I could say more about what she was getting up to but for like, frankly, my own dignity in this Starbucks I’m gonna leave that memory where it belongs.... in the confessional booth at church.

The medley ended with Beni doing a song from Mozart (but like, not the Mozart that Hoshigumi just did.)

I can not make this up but the program calls the next section of the show “紅 in the Flashy.”

This is where one of Tokyo’s special guests, Miya Rurika, pops up in the same rockstar style as Toshi(**) and I admit I actually thought she was Renta until the audience lost their shit. Guys, Miya looks BEAUTIFUL right now. Her and Beni both seem to be growing their hair out but right now Miya especially has this gorgeous blonde like wavy thing going on and really? Feminine makeup and honestly I was kind of transfixed by her. She sang her song and then was around forrrrrrr

All the Kurenai 5 material! Kurenai 5 (or 4, minus Tenju Mitsuki who is very much currently Acting In A Takarauka show) took over the next bit of the show was and it was every bit as precious as you’d hope. First of all, the way they play off each other is SURREAL and like nothing has changed between them. While I’m sure stuff HAS CHANGED, the love and the fun they have for and with each other has not. They encored some of their old songs, and you’ll be pleased to know that Tenju Mitsuki was present in cardboard cutout form, pushed around on a tiny wheeled platform by Katori Reira (who may I just add, along with Umesaki Eve, made every song they were in sound like there was a whole troupe worth of musumeyaku onstage. Girl can SING.) Beni turned to sneeze at one point and sneezed directly into Miya’s mic on accident.  They also played a video message from Mikkii. It still took a while for the cardboard cutout to stop being funny. My favorite part of this segment was when Beni cracked Renta up and kept giving her shit until she was on the floor laughing and unable to say what she had been trying to say and then Shiiran straight up took the mic out of Renta’s hands and spoke for her. さすが、Shiiran. 

The show was winding down at this point, but Beniko made a reappearance (”BENIKO in DELUSION”, according to the program). We transitioned out of that ad lib with a number for the ladies, Reira and Eve. It was boppy and jazzy and idolly and I got the idea into my head somewhere in here that Katori Reira HAS to play either Velma or Roxie in Chicago before either of us die and if I have to personally fund that happening, well, help me find my wallet because I’m off to the bank.

During this Beni changed into... not her otokoyaku clothes again but not BENIKO, just, herself, but girly. (Program calls this: 紅 in Feminine).  She does a speech about herself and what she wants out of the future and whether she wants to be called a 女優 (explicitly FEMALE actress) or not post-TKZ, and somewhere in here she had a talk with Utahiroba Jun, another man who is completely and utterly obsessed with her, and rightfully so. He was a guest but didn’t actually perform aside from with EVERYONE in one song.) Beni rounds out the concert in a beautiful dress singing her heart out and I’m truly really touched by how far she’s come and how beautifully she performs.

There were, as there tend to be, like 83746958 encores(**) and people running on and off stage. 

This was without a doubt one of the best nights of my life. I laughed until I cried, I straight up Normal Cried, I couldn’t Breathe for my like, unsumire thoughts, I was touched, and I was so so happy. Beni is my all-time favorite top star and probably always will be, and more than a singer or actress or dancer or comedian, Beni I think embodies the title of “entertainer” better than anyone I’ve ever personally had the pleasure to watch onstage or off. Watching her has made ME want to take more risks in performance and in life and to just do my best with everything life throws at me. Tonight she was so much of the Beni we all got to know and love in Takarazuka, but like, unleashed and able to be her truest, funniest, biggest, most loving self. Her ability to talk to the audience and everyone onstage and keep character and keep her humor and balance without missing a beat is unparalleled.  I really, truly love this woman, and I am so so so happy I got to see this incredible kickoff of her OG career. 

If I think of more, I’ll add it, but for now, as Beni hersef finished off the night by saying: Go your own way!!

[ohhicas]

Question: The scene in kh3 where Ienzo tells Riku about Even's dissappearance, he mentoins that Dilan and Aeleus searched for him. Aeleus doesn't say anything (sadly), but does he also looked concerned for you? Bc if that might be really the case, then Aeleus must have a caring nature in canon.

┴┬┴┤( „• ֊ •├┬┴┬

did someone say Good Boy Aeleus 

I went off about this once kind of already but I’ll cONTINUE ON FROM HERE cause before I kind of just took over an ask

You mean this look, right? The one that followed his slow headshake? every time I look at screencaps I just realize how off model I’ve gotten with my art lmao I gotta get better at like, not doing that

I know I’m trying to read the expressions off a fairly preset character model since he doesn’t do much besides squint, pout, and walk away and a lot of this is conjecture but I took it as a self-frustration? A type of concern, for sure. Ienzo’s line (using the Eng translation here cause I don’t know enough of the term nuances to pick apart the japanese/version differences like I did before) really seems that Aeleus and Dilan looked everywhere for him, which is kind of adorable in itself. I hope they went through every one of his old Somebody haunts even if they all woke up in the labs/offices going by the DDD cutscene of Ienzo & Aeleus waking up with Lea. Someone check the bedroom, someone check Ienzo’s bedroom. Scour the library corners. Carefully sneak out of the castle go to check Radiant Garden’s libraries and buildings. Try to find a way to ask the FF Crew if they’ve seen Even running around yes yes ok yes they were all presumed dead like 10 years ago and nobody ever found the bodies please stop screaming and calling them ghosts they have a Mission here. 

(Dilan out there peeking under a table and when he looks up Aeleus is standing there like ???? “YOU DONT KNOW, BUDDY. He could have come back Not Right and gone into hiding like a scared raccoon.”) 

BUT YEAH, THAT? That’s a Caring move for sure, he could’ve easily just been shown to keep his head high and face as stern as ever with a short curt shake ‘no’. I also still believe his turn away and pout move when Ienzo is on the phone with Sora over ‘Roxas’ is another sign of a canon caring nature– it’s not the type of care generally considered, but a guilt kind that toes into that samurai character theme he’s set with? He (possibly, we’re back in hypothesis town) feels bad about what his Nobody self did, because Aeleus would never just backhand a 15 year old hard enough he nearly KO’s just to get his crisis move activated. There’s Rough Training, and then there’s just Nobody level crude (there are several Very Good posts out there about how the backhand thing was taken in the wrong way entirely by some anti-Lex fans, or those who think very highly of Roxas and don’t want to see him hurt. They’re good reads over a good boy if you have the want and while I may not be 100% completely on board with the wording or writer’s ideas they’re still very good and will give you something to think about to come to your own conclusions) so he still feels bad/upset at himself for not being able to like… stop himself? In the same idea that Isa is upset at his Saix side, for what he did to Lea. That kind of thing. 

also part of me really just thinks Aeleus has this face that just constantly looks like he’s fighting back 23423 emotions and it ends up making him just look like a bulldog; permanent :( face

I think it’s the eyebrows

ANYWAY, GETTING OFF TOPIC I THINK 

He has so few speaking segments really outside of DDD & his little bit in CoM which I already went over in the first link that anything I say really is just me grasping at thin straws to try to form a full character so I feel bad using a whole lot of headcanons and things of the sort but I’d really put him up there as one of the (ex)Orgs who has the biggest caring/helpful themed heart. Obviously characters like Lea, Roxas, and Xion win hands down for biggest helpful/caring heart (though I can easily argue those three elsewhere); they had the most and arguably best writing for that sort of thing throughout every game they were in, while the others have selfish or endlessly curious ones. Which isn’t a bad thing! None of that is a bad thing. I’d personally put Isa in the category of selfish/curious over Helpful/caring, for example, and I love that dumb jealous boy. Ienzo & Even’s hearts are full of a pursuit of knowledge and curiosities more than an honest open attempt to help or save/protect someone. But like, I can be 100% wrong here, we just don’t know a lot about some of these people. As far as we know, though, Aeleus’s “drive” is just… Guardian. 

He’s an apprentice of Ansem, one of his ‘best students’, so maybe curiosity could be there? But we’re unsure what ‘best student’ means, it could just be in magic, which could be pointed towards the Guard/Protect. It could mean the science/heart research lean! Which would put him hard into the Curiosity side. It’s very, very hard to like… put this in words. All we’ve seen him do is protect others, apologize for not being able to protect, (beat someone in the face in a way that teaches them how to learn to protect themselves because he’s concerned, possibly, but for sure mentions that you can only really trust yourself in the Organization which is WORRY-CODED) and possibly be visibly ‘upset’ to the extent of his character model and samurai themed personality type over failing to find/protect others. He’s so “I Greatly Care For My Companions and Others” coded (to me!). 

HE IS

A GOOD BOY

[preciousthingsareprecious]

Stay Here, With Me Pt. 1

Hey guys! I wanted to write a sic fic with Damian, Bruce, and Dick, but the fic ended up being very long, so I split it in half. Here’s part one, with part two soon to come in a few days. I hope you guys enjoy! 

Rating: Gen

Words: 4439

Characters: Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne

Summary:  Damian gets soaked on patrol, and as a result he ends up sick. Rest and medicine should help, but Damian finds himself getting worse and worse. Thankfully he's got Bruce (and later Dick) to help sort things out.

Part 2 | AO3 Link

The catwalk under Damian’s feet groaned. He could almost hear the rusty bolts squeaking against the metal sheeting they held into place. It was as if the whole thing was about to sway and then burst apart like Damian’s Lego structures did when Titus ran through them, completely unaware of the hours of work that had gone into them.

He shifted his feet and turned his attention back to the control pad he was working on. The catwalk would would hold. It had held for the number of years since it had been constructed, and had held under countless feet trampling across it to do repairs on one side of the waterworks or the other. What he needed to worry about now was stopping the virus implanted in the facilities systems.

Damian had no idea what it was supposed to do, but from the way the man his father was fighting below had been monologuing it couldn’t be good. His fingers danced along the keypad as he attempted to log in. One good wash of the whole system should clear the bug from the computers and put things back to normal, he just had to break the code and get in.

He spared a single glance down at Batman. His father was busy dealing with a handful of thugs and their ringleader. Mr. Monologuer wasn’t even Gotham enough to warrant a mask or fancy name, he was simply a thug who’d thought he had a good idea and had gotten caught by the Batman. Damian wasn’t worried, but he’d be happier below helping his father all the same. It wasn’t good to underestimate anyone, goofy name or not.

He cracked the code and allowed himself a small smile at the victory. It took him a few seconds to reboot the system. All around him came the sound of hums and whirs slowing as systems ran through shutdown procedures, the lights above even flickered for a moment.

With the entire place slowing down, Damian could hear sounds of a fight still going on below him. He stepped back away from the control panel towards the edge of the catwalk. His plan was to pull his grapple out and use it to jump down to help his father in the fight.

The structure groaned then metal screeched as rust gave way and bolts popped out of their sockets and the catwalk under Damian’s feet began to jerk and shudder violently. Segments began to drop away, one after another, shaking the one Damian was standing on and sending him tumbling forward with a yelp.

His stomach hit the protective rail and, in another moment, the failing catwalk shook again. This time, the grating below his feet gave way, dropping and spinning below him to splash into a tank of water. Damian scrabbled for the rail, gripping it tight with both hands before looping one arm around it, his other hand going to his hip for his grapple gun.

The rail snapped and dropped along with a shower of other bits and pieces. One of them, part of the railing, smacked Damian’s hand with the grapple, and sent the gun spinning down, below him. He sucked in a quick, too shallow, breath of air and tucked his body in preparation for impact with the water below.

He hit the water a second after the grapple did. The force of the impact broke Damian’s tuck and he splayed in the deep container, sinking for a moment before he could get his bearings. The water around him shifted and roared with life as more metal rained into it, breaking and dragging through the once still water, creating currents that shoved and spun him in dizzying waves.

He had to get up, had to right himself. His lungs were already beginning to strain against the pathetic gulp of air he’d taken in. He’d manage if he could only get himself righted. He flipped over in the water, from his back to stomach, ready to pull himself up. Something heavy hit his back, pushing him further down and forcing the trapped air in his lungs to escape.

Shock had Damian gasp in a mouthful of water, only to spit it out the next moment. His lungs burned, jerking against his windpipe as if to say “We are empty and writhing” His vision was spotty, and all he wanted to do was breathe.

Like a child trying to stay underwater longer than his brother, Damian threw a hand over his mouth, pinching his nose with two fingers. He shifted again, and kicked against the side of the container closest to him, pushing himself up towards the top. His free hand pushed at the water, his legs kicking at anything to give him that burst he needed.

His chest caught again, and Damian swallowed, as if that would stop the burning need for air. The spots were worse now as black inched in from all sides. It wasn’t dizzy spots from a fall but instead those of encroaching unconsciousness and the ache for oxygen.

An arm reached in and caught him around the middle and pulled him up, sputtering and coughing into clear air. The hand, and another helped sit him down on a platform. Damian let himself sit there, a puddle forming around him, while he caught his breath, and refilled his lungs. Batman knelt by him, resting one hand on Damian’s shoulder. He watched him carefully, his jaw tight with worry.

It had taken time, but Damian had learned the difference between his father’s worried and angry jaws. Anger usually came with other body language of the sort, balled fists or a vein in Father’s neck that jutted just at the point where chin turned into neck and met the rest of the suit. Worry was almost pursed lips, one side drawn in further than the other like an inverted dimple.

He coughed, the water still coating the inside of his mouth and tickling the back of his throat. It tasted funny, tangy and odd. Damian passed the flavor off as being because it had only been partially treated in the plant so far. He ran the back of his hand across his nose, trying to stop the seeping watery snot, overflow from his body trying to keep him from drowning when he’d tried to breathe water.

“I’m fine.” he rasped, and coughed again, “Swallowed some water, but I’m fine.”

“Hm.” Father said, “We are done here.” he announced.

Damian peered around him to get a better look at the floor below them. Everyone, including the ringleader, had been knocked out and zip tied. They really were done.

“Should we--” Damian broke off to cough again, water tickling the back of his throat, “take some time to check things out?” he finished.

His father hummed, “I’ve already contacted the police, if there’s anything else wrong they’ll find it. We are going home.”

He fiddled with the cape around his shoulders, detaching it, and pulling it from his back. Then Father swung it around and wrapped Damian in it. The cape was like a weighted blanket, heavy and comforting on his shoulders, even if it did little to help soak up the wet.

“It’s cold outside.” Father explained, helping Damian stand.

Damian nodded, tugging the edges of the cape closer to himself so that he was wrapped snugly in it. The edge dragged behind him as he followed Father out of the building and on the too long trek back to the car. He still hadn’t managed to clear up the tickle in his throat and once outside the cold air caught at it and stirred up more coughing. Cold air whipped at his wet hair, tangling it as it tried to freeze the water dripping off it. Damian’s cheeks burned, and he tugged the cape closer, trying to bury his face in it and still see where he was going.

He’d left a bottle of water in the car, and chugged it down after he climbed in, attempting to dislodge the tickle with the application of more water. He even made one almost disastrous attempt at gurgling, the act teasing out another string of coughs instead of clearing up the problem, and ending up with more water dribbling down his face.

Father had not appreciated that moment.

Damian skipped showering before bed in favor of drying himself off and slipping on comfortable pajamas. The shower could wait until morning, all he wanted right now was his bed, soft and dry and blessedly warm. Father’s cape had helped keep him from freezing, but he’d still returned home with teeth chattering, and shivers down to his bones. He hated the cold.

He curled up in his bed, tugging his knees close to his body, and the comforter up to his chin and sighed as the chill of the sheets gave way to toasty warmth. Damian’s door cracked open, and the patter of paws preceded Titus’s joining him by only a few seconds.

His dog puffed warm air into his face, prompting a giggle from Damian. He pulled his hands out from under the blankets to bury them in Titus’s soft fur, and give him a kiss on his head.

“Good boy. Stay and keep me warm tonight.” Damian murmured to him.

Father hummed from the doorway. Damian rolled over to look at his father, as Titus settled down on his side of the bed. When green eyes met blue, Father moved into the room, a small smile on his face.

“Already in bed?” he asked, tone teasing, “You should fall in water more often on patrol if it means we skip the bedtime argument.”

Damian rolled his eyes up at his father and yawned, “It has nothing to do with my accident, I am simply practicing good sleeping habits. As you should.”

“Brat.” Father said, reaching out to adjust the blankets Titus’s entrance had messed up, before running his hand through Damian’s hair. He swatted lightly at the hand with a small smile.

Father surprised him then, leaning down to wrap him in a hug, “I’m glad you’re alright.” he said.

Damian felt heat rush his cheeks at the display of affection, and at the realization of just how badly his fall had scared his father. He returned the hug, messing up his covers again to wrap his arms around Father’s neck. Father gave him another light squeeze before he let go.

“Goodnight, Damian.” he said, moving towards the door.

“Goodnight, Father.” Damian replied, another yawn already rising to remind him of why he was in bed already.

The next day the tickle plaguing the back of Damian’s throat was still there. To make matters worse, his head felt stuffy, his ears ached, and his nose was so backed up he was surprised he hadn’t woken the house snoring the night before.

He wrinkled his nose and sniffed, allergies. The cursed things were a gift from living in Gotham. He had not dealt with the issue while with mother. Nothing he was allergic to bloomed in the desert.

Damian took an allergy pill, followed by the shower he’d skipped the night before. He lingered too long under the hot water, letting the heat and steam work on opening his sinuses again. It worked for a few minutes before he was stuffy and miserable again.

He managed to hold back the worst of his symptoms until patrol. There he could not sip hot tea or rest his head for a few minutes while he powered through a growing headache. It only took a few hours for Damian to finally admit to himself he was sick.

Not that he would admit that to Father. Dread welled up in him at the thought of stopping them because he wasn’t feeling good. Father tended to be less upset with him when Damian announced something before they left. He did not get grounded for simply being sick. Lying about not being sick was what got him grounded.

Damian sniffed and readied his grapple to follow Father from one building to another. He managed the shot and the swing. As he arched through the air his vision swam and his stomach did it’s best impersonation of Richard when he was feeling particularly acrobatic, twisting and turning as if it were on high bars. His feet hit the concrete of the rooftop and he stumbled, crashing to his knees to throw both hands over his mouth as saliva welled up in the tell tale way it did prior to throwing up.

He swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the way his knees ached from his knee pads not quite absorbing the shock of hitting concrete, and tried to focus on keeping himself from throwing up. He breathed in and out through his nose, wishing Gotham’s air was even colder than it’s almost freezing temperature.

He was hot. His face was sweaty, the liquid trying it’s best to slip past his domino and find his eyes to join the beads of sweat already building under it. He wanted to tear the mask from his face so he could breathe. Instead he curled forward, pressing ribs into stomach in an attempt to stop the welling need to throw up.

“Robin?” the word was spoken a moment before a hand brushed his hair back, a second cupping his cheek to tilt his face upwards.

Father wore his worried jaw again, and every heartbeat that passed between them made Damian think the angry one was soon to follow. Damian dropped his hands from his face, choosing to wrap his arms around his middle.

“I don’t feel good.” he whispered, worried anything louder would invite his stomach to release its contents.

“Can you stand?” Father’s voice was gentle.

Damian swallowed, “I believe so.”

Father helped him rise, hands on his shoulders for balance, almost pulling Damian to his feet. He swayed for a moment, before gathering his bearings. His arms wrapped back around his stomach, pressing as if he could hold everything in. His head felt too light, his throat tight and hot and sick. That stupid tickle was still there, itching away.

Damian focused on steadying himself enough so he could manage at least climbing down the building to get to the street. While he stood there, willing his body to cooperate, Father was calling the car around to their location.

He did manage the climb down on his own. A fire escape connected to the building’s side made it easier, and he was thankful for it. He wouldn’t want to be forced to lean on Father or make him carry him down. He was already interrupting patrol enough for one night.

Neither he nor Father spoke until they were in the car on the way back to the cave. Damian decided he didn’t want to leave Father to his own imaginings about why he hadn’t spoken up earlier. It was better to get the explanations and groundings out of the way now.

“I’m sorry.” Damian started, pulling his legs up in the chair to be closer to his center. For some reason the position helped ease some of the pain in his stomach. “I did not realize I was as sick as I am.”

“Oh?” Father asked, his tone mildly curious, but mostly disappointed.

Damian glanced over to find Father staring out at the road, cowl outlining his jaw. It was tight, not quite angry, but no longer as worried as he had been. He pulled his legs a little closer to him.

“I thought it was a case of bad allergies.” Damian said, “I did everything I could to mitigate them earlier by taking an antihistamine and indulging in hot tea and honey through the day. I was feeling better by patrol.”

The last bit he’d tagged on as a lie. He hadn’t felt any better by patrol, but he also hadn’t felt any worse. Patrol was not supposed to make allergies magically turn into upset stomachs and dizzy spells.

He let his head rest on his knees, “The sickness came on quickly. If I had realized it earlier I would have told you. Both you and Richard have made the dangers of attempting to patrol while ill clear. I would not endanger Batman by going out if I believed I was at risk of collapse.”

Damian slid his eyes over for another look at Father, little had changed about his appearance, aside from a slight relaxing of his hands on the wheel. Damian looked back away and actually buried his head in his knees. This was twice now he’d inconvenience patrol. Two times in one week was bad.

Even as patient as Father had become, Damian still knew he was stretching things with him. He had ruined, or at least interrupted, patrol two days in a row. For foolish, avoidable, things. He could have prevented himself falling in the water if he’d been faster with his grapple line. If he had prevented that, it was probable he would not be ill today. Even so, he should have marked the correlation between his waking up feeling bad and being soaked the previous evening.

Father returned Damian to the cave, staying only long enough to inform Pennyworth of Damian’s illness before he left again to finish patrolling. Damian gave Pennyworth a report of his symptoms, and their development, falling into a coughing fit (brought on by that inane tickle) halfway through.

He took the medicine handed to him and went straight to bed. Not moving helped his stomach feel a little better, so Damian tried his best not to shift or shuffle in bed as he tried to fall asleep. His body ached and he was still too hot, made worse now by the blankets. He kicked them off and felt his stomach kick back.

He groaned and curled in on himself, hoping the technique would work again to still his rebellious stomach. He tried squeezing his eyes shut and willing himself to fall asleep. When that didn’t work he attempted to watch videos of cats on his phone until the bright light sparked a headache.

At last he dozed, only to wake up freezing, his body feeling like he’d been shaken down to his bones. Damian pulled every blanket he had back over himself, wrapping them tightly as if he were cocooned in them. Still, he could not get warm. He looked around the room, his vision bleary and surroundings dim, searching for Titus to call up to lay with him.

His dog seemed to have found somewhere else to wander off to, perhaps down in the cave with Pennyworth. Or curled up in a different room. The point was, he was not around to help.

The tickle at the back of his throat was still there, teasing out coughs now. Damian coughed, and coughed, and coughed until it felt like his lungs were trying to claw their way up his throat. All the movement sent his stomach rolling again, and Damian tumbled out of the bed in a panic to get to his bathroom.

He flung himself down on the tile and leaned over the toilet. It took a moment, as if his stomach was suddenly hit with indecision on if it wanted to go through with this whole ‘throwing up’ business. Then coughs racked his chest again, their force enough to make him heave. He couldn’t stop. He’d catch his breath only for his stomach to lurch again and again.

Finally, when he had nothing left to give, Damian sat back and leaned against the bathtub. He was freezing still, shaking but unwilling to move beyond where he sat. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, pressing his face down, so his forehead was squished against his knees.

He felt gross, sweaty and cold, his skin itched begging to be scrubbed clean. His stomach was hollow and sharp. His throat was thick and scratchy from coughing and throwing up. He could still taste the sour tang of bile when he swallowed, and feel the slight burn of stomach acid dredged up in his body’s attempt to expel anything and everything bad.

Damian let out a shaky breath, his chest rattling against his legs. He felt bad. Sick and gross and all alone. He wanted Father. Or Grayson. Or someone. He sucked in air and leaned his head back, blinking at the darkened doorway to his room, wishing Father would appear.

He didn’t want to go find him. He should be back from patrol by now, but Damian had bothered him enough already. He had inconvenienced him time and again, and by the end of the night father had not even been speaking to him. Damian pressed his lips together and held back a whine.

His eyes watered and he told himself it was just the stress of being sick, not the twisted familiar worry that he’d messed things up again. That he might have pushed Father too far. That he’d been lying to himself this whole time and maybe Father was little different than Mother, and his performance over the past few days had been enough to ruin things for him.

First, he had needed to be rescued. Then he’d ruined patrol by being sick. Now he was even worse off, and contemplating ruining Father’s rest. Even if he was just sick and his mind was lying to him, he’d still been too much trouble. He had to deal with this.

Damian pulled himself up and turned the shower on. He tugged his clothes off and jumped in as fast as he could, letting the hot water warm his chilled skin. Standing left him dizzy, so he sat down, curling under the spray of steaming water, and letting it beat the back of his neck and spine.

He stayed in long after the water had gone cold, the chill pulling sudden heat from his skin. He managed, at last, to drag himself up and back out. He dried quickly and dressed in fresh pajamas that didn’t smell of sick. He still felt terrible, even the shower hadn’t seemed to alleviate his symptoms this time.

He was exhausted, but he didn’t want to get back in his bed. He still wanted his father. He didn’t want to be alone. He hated the feeling, but-- He moved to his door instead of his bed, reaching for the handle. It turned under his palm and pulled back, opening to reveal Bruce.

“Damian?” he frowned, “You should be resting.”

Damian’s chest caught, “I--I am not feeling too great.”

Bruce stepped closer to him, the back of his hand brushing Damian’s forehead, “You’re burning up. Why is your hair wet?”

Damian looked down, “I threw up.” he explained, “I had hoped the shower would help me feel better.”

“And?” Father asked.

Damian shook his head, squeezing his eyes closed against hot welling tears. He sniffed, sucking them back.

“Symptoms?”

Damian detailed them out as best as he could, listing them mechanically. This was a problem and Father was here to help sort it out. He would know what to do, he just needed the right information.

Father knelt before him, and brushed his thumbs under Damian’s chin, against his neck, searching for something. Damian had the vague memory of Richard doing the same when he’d caught a case of strep throat, perhaps Father was checking for that?

“Alfred said he sent you up here with some medicine, did that help at all?”

Damian shook his head again.

Father’s frown deepened. “Where were you going?”

This had been something Damian was dreading being asked. With Father standing here all the doubt and worry Damian had been fighting came rushing back. He wanted to back out and hide in his bed, and force himself better.

“I was thirsty.” he lied. He didn’t want to trouble his father any more, and this seemed the easiest way to do that.

Father nodded, and stood. “Alright, think you can make it down to the kitchen okay?”

Damian swallowed, “Yes.”

He pushed past Father and hurried down the hall, hoping he would not be followed. He found that he did want something to drink now that he’d admitted to it. He made a cup of his favorite blend of tea for feeling sick, chamomile, lemongrass, and spearmint.

The cup was carefully held between his palms when he returned to his room and discovered Father still there. He was just tugging Damian’s comforter back into place, with a pile of discarded sheets on the floor beside him. He looked up and smiled seeing Damian.

“Father?”

“I always liked having fresh clean sheets after I got sick.” Father said, “I figured you’d like them too.”

Damian nodded, “Thank you.” he said, throat thick.

Father held his tea for him while he crawled back in bed, the fresh smell of fabric softener sharp and delightful even to his stuffed nose. Father then tugged his blankets up and over him, even as Damian rested against his headboard sipping on the warm tea. The mint actually felt like it was helping his stomach a little, and the warmth was helping ease him back into feeling sleepy.

“Feeling any better?” Father asked, sitting down on the edge of Damian’s bed.

“A little.” Damian said, into his mug.

Father hummed, and lifted his phone, the screen brightening. Damian swallowed, Father was already bored with his presence. He wasn’t sure how to react.

“I left our copy of The Jungle Book in my room, but I’ve got an eBook version. Give me a second and I’ll find the chapter we were on.”

Damian couldn’t stop a smile from tugging at his lips. He liked reading with Father. Sometimes they read quietly together, working their way through the same book in silence. Others they read aloud to each other. Damian loved the way Father’s voice was always warm and rumbly when he read, like he was telling a story he was fond of, or speaking with an old friend.

He nodded, and sipped at his tea again. Father found the chapter and started reading, his voice soft in the night. It didn’t take long for Damian’s eyes to get heavy and hard to open. The mug in his hand started to slip. He felt it pulled from them, his head tucked into his chest.

Father helped him ease off the headboard and snuggle down into the sheets proper. The blankets were tucked close around him, and Father’s lips were whisper soft against his head, “Rest up, son.”

[theonceoverthinker]

OUAT 3X07 - Dark Hollow

After the BEST WEEKEND EVER, I’m back! Just giving you a heads up -- to say on the timeline, I’m gonna pump these guys out a bit faster than usual, so my reviews may end up a lot shorter.

Anyway, I hope your week wasn’t too...HOLLOW in my absence!

The puns return!!!

Anywho, smart stuff under the cut!

Press Release

Mr. Gold and Regina send Ariel back to Storybrooke with an item that will allow Belle to locate a hidden artifact that could help take down Pan. But unbeknownst to them, two men have broken into the town with the intent to stop them - at all costs. Meanwhile, Emma, Neal and Hook attempt to find Dark Hollow, where Peter Pan’s shadow dwells, in order to capture it, and Mary Margaret is upset with David for keeping his poisoning a secret from her.

Main Thoughts - Characters/Stories/Themes and Their Effectiveness

Storybrooke

Conflicts where Belle gets to be in the role of hero always have the potential to be great, and while some *cough “The Outsider”* fail, this one does a fair amount better! Belle’s last conversation with Rumple and the little help she can provides makes her moping understandable (Albeit a little annoying) and Ariel’s encouragement and need for this to be successful acts as a great contrast.

I do wish that more went into Belle’s story here. As is, it’s Belle mopes, she hears a keyword or sees something, and she just solves the problem. There’s no either moment of realization on Belle’s part or a conversation that is communicated to Belle that states that she’s already a hero. Well, sort of scratch that because of her conversation with Archie at Granny’s, but it’s never reinforced by anyone. Because of that, while not badly put together, the problem that Belle had at the start of the episode isn’t really solved. It’s just dismissed. For an example of this done right, look at “Bear and the Bow.” There, Merida doesn’t believe that she can save her family on her own, needs to be pushed into solving the problem on her own, and when she does, there’s that moment of realization that she had that potential. This is a flabbier version of that story.

Neverland

“The fact that they both have feelings for you is dangerous, too.” Oh, the love triangle episode. Look, I’ll level with you. The best part of this segment is the end where Emma nips this in the bud and tells them both to fuck off until the mission is done.

And I get that the framing is supposed to be like that. Killian and Neal are so invested in their romances with Emma that they endanger everything, but it’s in no way anything less than an utter pain in the ass to watch. And it leaves such a bad mark on both men, having them prioritize a romance over Henry -- Neal’s son and the motivation of Killian’s redemption! What I would’ve done is stated that Dark Hollow would enhance feelings of bitterness towards one’s companions, making the pettiness here work better. That way, the almost cartoon-y and sabotage-y lengths that the guys went to would’ve been much better. As it stands, it’s annoying to watch and because the segment is from Emma’s POV, it doesn’t even serve to deliver a theme like some other stories of its ilk do for other characters.

Part of me feels like this episode was supposed to be a callout to shippers to tell them to focus on the main story over the ships, but for that to be truly effective and not make Neal and Killian come off so badly, there’d need to be either a lot more self awareness from the two guys (Which would end the story prematurely) or some agent that would artificially push those issues to a place of greater importance than Henry’s safety.

On the flip side, I love Pan’s gambit. It’s amazing seeing Pan and Felix plant the seeds of Pan’s next scheme in a way that makes it look like Henry’s solving the mystery. It’s such a treat seeing this and actually having the knowledge of knowing precisely what Pan is doing beforehand. We see how sharp Pan is as he checks the boxes of exploiting Henry’s goodwill (Wanting to be a hero, the connection between Henry and his father, the love of fairytales) and all the while making him feel clever. It’s not frustrating, but because of the POV, it makes an aspect of this kind of story that’s been so ingrained into our skulls at this point feel fresh! His use of Wendy to paint himself as a hero is fantastic, doing a great job to tilt Henry’s thought process.

Insights - Stream of Consciousness

-”They saved us.” I really love how much everyone cheers over the heroes saving them. Look, the heroes have their faults, but there’s a reason why the town at large stays loyal to them.

-I also ADORE scenes of Storybrooke at large working together. All of the major players are so great!

-I love the overall BIGNESS of the cloaking spell. It something that follows our characters throughout the rest of the series and it’s appropriately epic and not just in the sense that its an obstacle for our “villains.”

-I can’t look at that “Leaving Storybrooke” sign. I just can’t. It makes me so sad!

-”She’ll know exactly what to do.” Rum Rum, just because you can perceive vague shit doesn’t mean everyone else can!

-”Guess you’ll just have to trust me.” Reggie, you are lucky that Ariel is a trusting person because this is shady af!

-”Someone is leaving Neverland.” This line is utterly fantastic, especially with how subtly it’s said. You get a real sense of how embedded Pan truly is with Neverland as a whole.

-*Seethes in anger as fucking C*leman shows up* Fuck you, C*leman.

-”No giant stepping on my Miata!” If Anton were here, he’d take offense to that. ...Also, where IS he? Does he not show up for the rest of the series? If so, I honestly regret not honoring him in my last overview.

-I love how Archie was just anticipating slipping into therapist mode, hungry for that session like I am for that cheeseburger!

-”Now you’ve got a dress code? I seem to recall some Ruby outfits that are seared into my brain.” Grumpy! Bad!

-What is it with red-haired characters in this series ROCKING the color green? Ariel and Zelena just make it look so good!

-”He’s really into being cryptic, isn’t he?” Honey, you have NO idea!

-”It’s good to see you inherited his tunnel vision.” Snowy, you have NO idea.

-”I’m not holding your family prisoner.” I love that subtle bit of gaslighting. No, he’s not holding Henry’s family prisoner, but he is holding HENRY prisoner.

-”It’s a corkscrew, but it’s not what Rumple needs.” I don’t know about that, Belle. He could stab a Lost Boy or two. *shrugs*

-Wow! Some subtle acting from Emiliee! Look at her hands as she holds Pandora’s Box! The subtle shaking is amazing, saying so much about how powerful the box truly is!

-Pan is such a sneaky little bitch. I love how as soon as one plan is discovered, it only takes him another moment to create another plan that accounts for the failings of the last one.

-*Emma almost decapitates Killian with her sword* I’m pretty sure Colin said that that was a blooper that actually made it onto the show! XD

-Hey pre-Underworld Underworld filter! Good to see you!

-I can also understand why David wouldn’t want to tell Snow: For Emma’s sake. She just gets her parents back and then she’d have to lose at least one of them. David was trying to spare her from losing both of them too.

-”You want to tell me how that coconut works?” You should probably tell Jen too because WOW, she hated that prop!

-I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that 99% of Emma’s relief in that scene was Jen’s relief in finally closing that fucking coconut!

-”Providing motivation.” “For what?” “For doing what needs to be done.” Wow. Looks like Rumple’s cryptic-ness is rather genetic.

Arcs - How Are These Storylines Progressing?

The Mission to Find Henry - We now have a way back AND a way to defeat Pan! Things feel like they’re chugging along again, and it works pretty naturally with how the last two episodes went.

Killian’s Redemption - “Why would I have done that [Not tell the group about Neal]?” I like how even as he’s in this love triangle with Neal, Killian doesn’t regret saving him for even a second. That really speaks to Killian’s growth!

Regina’s Redemption - Regina keeping her part of their bargain is a BIG deal in terms of her redemption!

Rumple’s Redemption - Rumple actually says that he will do his best to honor Belle and Ariel’s request to help Wendy and that also is a BIG step! Also, Rumple pointing out that Regina’s jealous of having someone shows a fair amount of self-awareness!

Favorite Dynamic

Henry and Pan. I’ve gone on about them above, but Pan’s understanding of Henry’s personality and subsequent manipulation of that for his own gain is fascinating to watch! Despite only knowing Henry for less than a week, Pan’s got him pegged! He knows the qualities that Henry wants to see in someone he’ll trust and his own aspirations for himself. And though manipulated, Henry is so careful about Pan, showing a lot of intelligence. His “weakness” here is hs kind heart and it’s the perfect aspect on Henry to exploit once it’s clear that method of lying won’t work.

Writer

Kalinda Vazquez and Andrew Chambliss are up again, and I found their storytelling here to be a bit lackluster. The Storybrooke segment was enjoyable, but flabby in terms of delivery and the exact opposite could be said for the Neverland main story. It’s not terrible, but just a little half baked.

Rating

7/10. I wish things had been a bit tighter here. As it stands, this wasn’t OUAT’s best. BUT that’s not to say that there weren’t things I liked. Everything with Pan, Henry, and the Darling siblings was magnificent and Ariel (As usual) is simply a delight)! Also, Emma’s speech at the end where she put the issue of shipping to rest to focus on the mission was just fantastic and an utterly badass moment! I just wished they played more of (Or in the case of Emma’s speech, a better) a role in the main stories.

Flip My Ship - The Home of All Things “Shippy Goodness”

Grumpy Beauty - Once again, we get to see bits of these two working together early on and it’s just the best!

Captain Swan - Okay, I love how Emma’s big point in Killian’s favor was how he told her about Neal. That’s such an earnest, sweet, and Emma-like thing to adore. Also, “so when I win your heart, Emma -- and I will win it -- it won’t be because of any trickery. It will be because you want me.” I love that resolve of Killian’s to not only be with Emma, but to be with her honestly. It speaks to sentiments she values and shows his commitment to his own redemption. ALSO, “I’ve yet to see you fail.” Killian honestly does believe in her!

Swan Fire - I really enjoyed Neal’s apology at the end of the episode and I love how you can see how his returned resolve to focus on Henry had its effect on Emma and was so sincere! <3

Rumbelle - Just look at the way Belle basically blubbers as she first sees Rumple’s face through the sand dollar. It’s so beautiful. Honestly, this whole episode is a love letter to Rumbelle and just how much they mean to each other and trust in each other. “Tell Belle I love her. And that she’s right. I WILL see her again.”

Snowing - I love Snow and David’s argument. It’s so raw and it so clearly comes from this place of love.

Swan Queen - There’s really something to be said for Emma succeeding thanks to her understanding of Regina whereas both Neal and Killian sort of failed her! <3

-----

Again, thank you for your patience with these more rushed out reviews. I really want to stay on schedule and thankfully, there wasn’t a hello of a lot to say here.

Also, thank you to @watchingfairytales! It was lovely meeting half of you guys at the con!

Season 3 Total (66/220) Writer’s Scores: Adam and Eddy (19/60) Kalinda Vazquez (17/40) Andrew Chambliss (17/50) Jane Espenson (10/30) David Goodman (10/40) Robert Hull (10/40) Christine Boylan (10/20) Daniel Thomsen (10/30)

Operation Rewatch Archives

[whatwillyoudodifferently]

Cold Sweats Were Made To Be Broken - How Emily Carroll Creates Effective Horror By Bending The Rules

I believe that, with enough time and resources, someone with a good eye for horror would be able to create a good horror story with just about any medium. With prose, you have the advantage of vivid description and getting to intimately know the character’s inner thoughts and fears, like in the works of Stephen King. With film, you get the advantage of visuals and audio along with the dread that comes with being a helpless audience member, such as the in the works of John Carpenter. And while the poor video game is often given a bad rep among other, older art forms, video games actually are one of the most ideal ways to experience horror stories, since the audience must become an active participant in the story to move it forward, not even allowed the escape of being a passive viewer.

It’s actually for very similar reasons that I find comics to be one of the ideal mediums for the horror genre. You get some of the benefits of prose, some of the visuals of movies, and even a bit of the forced participation of video games, in the fact that readers must choose to advance to each next page- a happy medium, if you will. There’s also one of my favorite features of sequential art as a whole- the fact that the artist has a tight amount of control over the pacing of the story. You can enhance the drop a world-shaking reveal on the reader by devoting a splash page to it, or pull out a scene with agonizing slowness with multiple, decompressed panels- storytelling devices that become lethal weapons in the hands of a good horror writer.

Keeping this in mind, it’s no surprise that horror comics have always been a huge part of comic history. In modern times, American comics are almost always associated with superhero stories, but there’s actually a rich history of horror comics- the rise of gruesome true crime stories and horror anthologies like Tales from the Crypt are why we have the infamous Comics Code, after all. Today we have titles like 30 Days of Night and The Walking Dead (though their more cinematic adaptations are typically more well-known). The huge world of European comics have given birth to a huge number of horror titles, like Italy’s Dylan Dog or Britain’s semi-tongue-in-cheek Scream! And of course, Japan has been the birthplace of great horror comics from the days of Mizuki Shigeru to the advent of modern horror with figures like Junji Ito and Masaaki Nakayama.

But of course, those figures and titles only exist in the world of print comics. In the age of the Internet, it would be remiss to ignore the staggeringly massive world of webcomics in any discussion of comics, let alone horror comics. This is due to any one of the many, many, many webcomics that exist online, but for this essay, I want to focus on an artist who doesn’t just happen to focus on horror comics while publishing them on the internet, but uses and utilizes both the medium of sequential art and the Internet to bring out the best in her comics.

Originally an animation student, Emily Carroll had only just begun to venture into the field of comics when she went hurdling to the attention of the webcomic community in 2010. His Face All Red was only her third comic, and its runaway success (helped by the recommendation of another name in horror comics, Neil Gaiman) was something she admits to be caught off-guard by. But she clearly has seemed to have taken it in stride, considering that her website now hosts almost 20 webcomics, many of them some sort of horror story. She’s also done print comics, including the original anthology Through the Woods and the upcoming graphic novel adaption of Laurie Halse Anderson’s powerful YA story Speak. As grandiose as it may be to say this, I believe Carroll’s style and approach to storytelling was made for the medium of comics, and I believe she deserves a spot up there along with Gaiman and Ito when it comes to naming masters of the horror comic.

But how does she do horror comics so well? It’s not just good writing, or good art, though she’s certainly talented on both those fronts. After spending an amount of time looking through her comics, I think I’ve come up with a solid answer, an answer that can be used to teach anyone interested in comics and in storytelling in general.

Emily Carroll is a master of breaking rules.

When I say rules, I don’t mean that there’s actual rules some God Of Comics has written down somewhere. Rather, the “rule-breaking” Carroll does refers to how she subverts expectations and goes against the conventions of storytelling that have become familiar over time. In doing this, Carroll’s comics have an air of unpredictability to them, and the reader must not only advance through the comic at their own pace, they must do it with the knowledge that the comic will surprise them in some way. In short, when a story breaks “the rules,” it creates the illusion of the audience’s safety being lost.

But how does Carroll break the rules? This is a bit of a nebulous thing to analyze- I mean, I don’t even think “breaking rules” is something Carroll consciously sets out to do. But over time, I’ve noticed recurring themes and storytelling methods in Carroll’s comics, and I think it’s worth analyzing them to gain a better understanding of sequential art and how sequential art can continue to evolve. 

Breaking “The Rules” of Each Comic

One thing I like about Carroll’s webcomics is that, since they’re all self-contained short stories, they each have their own unique visual “language.” This can apply to comic’s palette (like how The Hole The Fox Did Make is all grayscale), the format of panels (like how When The Darkness Presses is told through several 4-panel pages), or even the format of the writing (like how The Prince & The Sea is told as a poem). This gives all of Carroll’s comics a sense of cohesion, similar how to repetition is used in visual design to create a sense of rhythm and reason.

But, of course, what’s even more important than the “rules” Carroll establishes for each individual comic, is when Carroll chooses to break these rules.

The Hole The Fox Did Make is all grayscale- so when the colorless 4-panel strips are replaced with a mass of panels mostly rendered in an angry red, it comes as a shock. When The Darkness Presses is told through several 4 panel pages- so the reader knows that the long vertical segments that accompany each scene about the door are meant to be considered different than other scenes. And once the reader sees what is behind the door…

Suddenly changing the established visual language of a comic is easy shorthand to let the reader know that the scene is important in some way, but in a horror comic, it can also be a subtle way to catch the reader off-guard. Rebecca’s ghost story in All Along The Wall is told in a simple style and over-saturated colors to distinguish it from the “real” scenes, but the contrast in the story’s bright, colorful palette to the sketchy grayscale of the rest of the comic almost makes it feel more menacing in contrast. The fact that it’s explicitly a ghost story rendered in these almost cheerful hues make it even more uneasy- and ends up saying a lot about the kind of person Rebecca is. In short, it’s good, creative storytelling that also serves to scare.

These breaks in the established format work best when combined with one another. The Prince & The Sea takes part mostly on land- specifically, in single-panel illustrations that show only the meeting place of the prince and the mermaid- with a colorful palette that’s equal parts earthy and warm. When the story shifts under the sea, the palette shifts to eerie, cool colors that reflect both the dark atmosphere and the horrifying turn of the plot. But in addition to this, the story finally breaks the single-illustration format, going vertical to simulate the feeling of diving, and adding in “floaty” panels surrounded by black, giving a true feeling of being underwater. Carroll uses not only tone and format shifts but shifts in space- which, incidentally, brings us to one of the most notable and important features of Carroll’s work.

Breaking “The Rules” of Comics As A Whole 

In 2000, the comic book artist Scott McCloud published the book Reinventing Comics: How Imagination and Technology Are Revolutionizing an Art Form, in which he made several predictions about the necessary changes that would need to occur in the field of comics in order for the medium to survive, with a major focus on the Internet and webcomics. One interesting idea McCloud proposed was the concept of “the infinite canvas,” the idea that a comic could have limitless storytelling potential thanks to the almost limitless size and space offered by a webpage.

In the year of 2000, the art of the webcomic was in its infancy, consisting mainly of typical comic strips like you’d see in newspapers, leading to a lot of skeptical response to these ideas-- but as it turns out, McCloud was basically completely correct. We’ve seen this from the long vertical formats typical of many Korean webtoons like The Sensual M and Chinese manhua like Tamen de Gushi to the textlogs, flash games, and fully animated segments of the ambitious multimedia-mishmash Homestuck.

Of these examples, however, I think Carroll’s techniques are closest to what McCloud had in mind when he proposed the infinite canvas. His Face All Red famously had the wonderful, wordless sequence of the protagonist descending deep into a hole, depicted by the downward scroll of the reader. When The Darkness Presses switched deftly between standard “real world” pages, long vertical dream sequences, and the dramatic horizontal reveal of what lay behind the door.

To this day, I think Carroll’s most impressive use of the infinite canvas is still Margot’s Room. Initially presented as a month-long event during October 2011, Margot’s Room starts with a grim poem over a grim image, with every important word in the poem relating to a part of the picture, which the reader would click to go to a new part of the story. Each week, a new line of the poem would be revealed alongside a new link, with the last part being released, of course, on Halloween. This creative use of hyperlinks is interesting enough, but the final, shocking scene is almost breathtaking- the events are violent, chaotic, and wild, heightened only by the wide spread of panels over a massive, empty blackness, linked only by words and furious splashes of blood. It’s something that couldn’t really exist in print comics (unless on a much smaller scale) and seeing how effective it is here, it almost make one wonder why it’s not more widespread among webcomic artists.

Without the limits of the printed page, Carroll has a better opportunity to break the typical conventions of sequential art. But she actually goes beyond that, using the medium of the Internet in even more creative ways than McCloud imagined. Besides her use of hyperlinks in Margot’s Room, links are also used to tell the non-linear “story” of Grave of The Lizard Queen, or show two sides to a tragic tale in The Three Snake Leaves. Carroll even employs animation in her work, to an extent. An animated GIF in Out Of Skin conveys the horror of seeing something terrible just out of the corner of your eye, and a certain “trick” panel in All Along The Wall may make you jump out of your skin if you don’t know what exactly it’s going to do. And that’s how it’s brilliant- comic panels aren’t supposed to change, after all. Carroll knows that, and knows just how to use the reader’s unconscious knowledge of the rule of well of course comic panels are always static against them. You don’t think twice about it... until the rule is broken.

Breaking “The Rules” of Storytelling

One of my favorite examples of Carroll’s unique take on the infinite canvas is in When The Darkness Presses. Despite being a short comic released all in one go, it’s presented as a recently completed longform webcomic, complete with animated ad banners. I don’t want to spoil what becomes of these ads later, but it’s very interesting to point out that one of them is for “Alo-Glo,” the skin product that features heavily in Some Other Animal’s Meat. This is especially interesting once you realize that Some Other Animal’s Meat is technically a sequel to When The Darkness Presses.

I say “technically,” because it’s actually entirely possible to read both comics and not know this, the way I first did. They’re two different self-contained stories that just happen to involve two characters at two points at their life.

There’s no real meaning to it- and in a way, this is perhaps Carroll’s favorite rule to break: the all-encompassing question of what does it all mean?

Ever since His Face All Red, Carroll has faced this question, or at least variants of it. How did the man’s brother come back? What was that thing in the hole? In a 2014 interview with Hazlitt, Carroll admits to feeling self-doubt when readers began clamoring for concrete answers:

“People were saying, ‘What’s the meaning of this? What’s the meaning of this?’ and … I felt very much like, I need to justify this somehow, otherwise they will see that I am a faker that has faked my way into some kind of Internet buzz, so there has to be a one-to-one meaning for everything.”

Thankfully, Carroll has been able to move past this initial doubt- I believe, very much for the better. Leaving unanswered questions is almost a trademark of Carroll’s now- from the tree in Out of Skin to the “mystery man” in The Groom to the door in When The Darkness Presses. The thing that plagues the main character of Some Other Animal’s Meat. The voice that calls Regan to the river in The Hole The Fox Did Make. The list goes on.

And it’s not just monsters. From early on in my love of Carroll’s works, I began to notice connecting threads through many of her comics. What did it mean that His Face All Red draws attention to “a tree with leaves that looked like ladies’ hands” (similar to the tree in Out Of Skin) and “a stream that sounded like dogs growling” (a sentence almost identical to how the stream in Margot’s Room is described)? What did it mean that The Hole The Fox Did Make and The Groom featured Regan, or that All Along The Wall is technically a prequel to a comic from Through The Woods? What did it mean that events of When The Darkness Presses are brought up by the main characters years later in Some Other Animal’s Meat?

The answer, of course, is that there is no answer- other than the answers and ideas that begin to form in our heads when we’re presented with an unsolved mystery. Ever since early humans looked up at the stars and put together shapes in the gaps, the nature instinct of human beings drives us to pick patterns out of randomness. Our brains try to find meanings or answers where there is none, whether we want to or not, or even if we are aware of our minds doing so or not. And of course, this almost whimsical trait of ours is also one of our most massive burdens- the horror of imagination. The infinite possibility of the conclusions each person reaches on their own will always be far, far more frightening than any single answer a writer can give.

In a way, Carroll’s most mundane “broken rule” may be her most powerful tool. In the age of endless theories and fiction analysis, in the light of humanity’s eternal, inescapable desire for the solutions for every puzzle, Carroll’s works are unanswerable. And because of this, I think the unexplained monsters of Carroll’s works are some of the scariest in fiction.

Funnily enough, despite basing this essay around the concept of breaking rules, I stated early on that I don’t think Carroll herself sees her approaches to sequential art like that. While researching for this essay, I came across an interview by The Comics Journal with Carroll from 2011, not too far after the runaway success of His Face All Red. It’s a great interview, but what probably stuck with me most is Carroll’s description of how she approaches comics:

“It stems more from just what I think will be most fun, really. And since—when I started doing comics—I’d never done comics for print, I wasn’t in the mindset of doing pages anyway, which maybe led to me not really adhering to that standard when I started in on my own attempts. I like the idea of scrolling just because it’s fun to play around with revealing images that way, but you can play around with the same thing using page turns too really.”

I wanted this essay to be a tribute to one of my favorite artists, but I also initially intended it to be a way to encourage artists to shake up typical comic conventions and try to create unique art. Upon reading this quote, however, I realized that I had one more thing to learn from Carroll, one thing I want artists to know as well. Carroll has carved out her own, unique approach to sequential art, and in the process has happened to buck several storytelling conventions. You too can learn from this and know that you have the freedom to break these same rules- but perhaps the most important thing to take away from this is that Carroll does this because she has fun doing this. Carroll’s comics work not just because they break the rules, but also because she enjoys creating them.

Your own unique style should be what is most enjoyable for you. Creating new and unique artwork is all well and good, but what will make or break your art are the feelings you have while creating it.

And if you have fun in breaking rules, then more power to you.

All of Emily Carroll’s online works can be found on her personal site (general NSFW warning for nudity and disturbing content). You can buy Carroll’s anthology Through The Woods here.