#Misfortunate Sol

[artdecosupernova-writing]

OC Kiss Week Day 6: Reach

WIP: Misfortunate Sol Pairing: Cal x Sol Timeline: an alternate universe version of events. this in no way spoils the real plot. CW: Fire, death, blood, gun violence. it's not that bad but it's better to err on the side of caution Rating: T Words: 2,150

***

Detective Calvin Logan entered the precinct at an unusually early time in the midst of utter chaos. He was so bereft of his first cup of coffee, however, that he didn't even notice the state of the place until he attempted to rectify his delayed caffeine situation.

He grumbled under his breath as he poured already-aging coffee into the first mug he got his hands on—a stout metal cup the police captain had brought in from his time in the war.

Cal looked up and squinted at the cops running around, papers flying, telephone operators being yelled at. He almost didn't catch himself in time before he overflowed the cup and coffee splashed onto the floor at his feet.

"What's goin' on?" he asked Officer Melvin Funkwhistle on his way past at nearly the speed of a barreling train. For a brief instant Cal mused to himself that perhaps the officer was running away from his unfortunate name, and he found he had trouble tamping down the distracted grin that formed on his face in response.

"There's something happening at the Majesty Hotel," Funkwhistle said over his shoulder. "Captain's sending out cars to handle it."

Cal frowned alongside his first sip of coffee and couldn't even enjoy it. "The Majesty? What's happening at the Majesty?"

Funkwhistle was already gone, but Captain O'Reilly stepped into his line of vision as a decent substitute. He tugged at his Sam Browne belt and addressed Cal with seriousness bordering unpleasant at such an early time of day.

"We got a call about an hour ago regarding a possible hostage situation," O'Reilly said, his thick mustache twitching. "We believe the guests and staff are being kept prisoner by an unknown assailant. There's been a fire allegedly set—"

Where the news of a strange person holding the hotel hostage previously did not jar Cal fully out of his bleariness, the news of a possible fire rattled him enough to send a drop of coffee into the wrong pipe.

He hacked around the offending liquid and pounded a fist into his chest. "A fire—Captain?!" He stared with wild eyes at his boss, disposing of his coffee and the cup into the trash can beside him. "I gotta...you gotta let me—"

"No," O'Reilly barked immediately, all but diving into the trash to retrieve the cup. "We have enough cars headed that way now. You'll get a chance when the situation is dealt with—"

All Cal could think about was Solomon Maxwell Iron. If the guests and the staff were being held hostage, that meant Sol, too. The strangeness of having had a heated argument with him the previous night about something trivial—about how Cal couldn't seem to leave the poor man alone regarding the deaths that followed him everywhere—and now he was likely in grievous danger...

"You got this call an hour ago?!" Cal roared suddenly. He felt the color leaving his face as surely as he felt disbelief boiling into rage in the pit of his chest. "And you're just now controlling the situation?!"

"The legitimacy—"

Cal did not think the captain was incompetent. He always respected him, held him in high regard in the day-to-day, which is why this display of suspicion surprised him.

All he could recall of the following sequence of events was grunting something about his acceptance toward being fired later, then tearing down the somewhat busy street in a screaming squad car, his arms burning from the urgency of cranking the siren and avoiding a collision all at once.

His heart leapt into his throat as soon as he careened around the final corner leading to the Majesty Hotel, and it had little to do with nearly flattening the officer directing traffic at that particular intersection.

A plume of thick, black smoke curled up from somewhere on the building, pouring into the sky not unlike Cal's unhelpful coffee into the frazzled captain's war cup.

"C'mon," Cal muttered partially to Sol, who definitively was not anywhere around, and partially to the living obstacles standing between him and the hotel. "C'mon, kid, please make a damn fool outta me."

By some miracle he managed to put the car in park somewhere he wouldn't remember later before sprinting into the gaggle of police gathered across the road from the hotel.

"Get me in there," he demanded, utterly disinterested in having a chance to catch his breath. "If that fire spreads—"

Sergeant Pickering swung around to aim a bullhorn in Cal's face. "The fire brigade is on the way," he said into the device, slowly and with force as if scolding a child for the tenth time in as many minutes, "do not even breathe at that hotel until I have given the all-clear, Logan."

"The fire brigade's on the way, meanwhile a possible mass murderer has a buffet of choice at their fingertips while we stand around waiting," Cal snapped.

"Which is precisely why we are not to rush in without a plan," Pickering retorted, waving some of his subordinate officers away. "This calamity is dangerous and sensitive. We can't risk anything going wrong, here."

Cal dropped steely eyes onto Pickering from his outside assessment of the hotel. He'd never felt this riled up, this feral with fear and determination before in his life. "Where's the assailant?"

"We've determined they're possibly based on the top floor, where the fire is located—"

"Are the elevators operational?"

"No, and furthermore—"

"If I fail, shoot me," Cal said before breaking into another sprint away from the assaulting bullhorn.

Instead of going through the front doors, he veered off to the left, keeping an eye out for the side entrance Sol had thrown him through in his attempts to get the investigations off his back. All of his effort to stop Cal from doing his job.

As he slipped through the unassuming door, the first thing he noticed was that the smell of smoke wasn't very strong in that portion of the hotel yet. The emptiness of the hallways proved eerie, sending a sprout of goosebumps over his arms.

He jogged through the kitchen and eventually the lobby, vigilant for any sign of life, his gun drawn and ready. He ascended the stairs, pausing beside a body laid out face-down on the landing floor.

He peered down at the body and his frown deepened. He didn't recognize him, but he wore a luxurious smoking jacket stained with a massive patch of blood on the back, and his hair was unruly, sticking up and out at odd angles. A guest, it seemed.

Cal's shoulders tensed and he felt a prickle at the back of his neck. Carefully, he turned toward the doors leading to the second floor.

A person wearing a Hallowe'en mask, a piece of leather with holes cut out for the eyes, nose, and mouth, stood at the door with an arm hooked tightly around Sol's neck, the muzzle of a pistol pressed against the side of his head. The masked person was taller than Sol, taller than Cal, and they breathed through their mouth as if the nose hole wasn't sufficient.

Sol coughed hard and regarded Cal with surprise, fingers gripping onto his captor's arm hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. "D-Detective?" he said meekly.

Cal ignored him. Had to. If he thought too hard about the dark, angry bruises around Sol's eyes, the officers outside would have to shoot his corpse.

He shifted his attention to the masked person, hoping the sheen of sweat forming on his forehead would go unnoticed. "...Is this what you wanted? To set fire to innocent civilians?"

"Innocent in what capacity?" they said. "Sapping society of a living? Marring the economy and deepening the Depression? You consider that innocent?"

The question confused Cal for a moment before he realized what was happening. "What part do the hotel staff have to play in that? They're just trying to make a living like anyone else."

"These people are a cancer," the masked person spat, jerking the gun in the direction of the guest's body on the floor. "And the ones working for them are even worse for providing their services. Why don't you understand?" Something dawned over what little could be seen of their face. "...I wish you'd understand."

"Don't," Cal growled in warning as the masked person cocked the hammer back on their pistol and pressed the muzzle once again into Sol's skull.

Cal lifted his gun and fired. The shot downed the person instantly, catching them between the eyes. Sol stumbled, nearly taking a header down the stairs before Cal lunged at him and pressed him backward, away from the bodies.

"Police are waiting outside," Cal said hoarsely. "Where are the hostages?"

"Top...top floor," Sol stammered. He looked at Cal as if seeing him for the first time. "There's a fire up there."

"Get outside," Cal ordered, taking Sol's hand in a firm grip and carefully turning him toward the front doors. "Stay with the cops. Stay safe."

"I won't leave you." Sol's eyes, not as swollen as they could've been, welled. He swallowed thickly. "I...don't want to leave you."

Cal's chest filled with something he couldn't decipher. A feeling of dread, something strong and intense, rotten and sour and warm and wonderful. His brow furrowed and he found his brain wouldn't form recognizable thoughts at first. All he could see when he looked at Sol was the anger and desperation in his face the last time they spoke. Despite their previous lighthearted interactions, Cal suspected Sol truly hated him in that moment, and he couldn't fathom ever seeing the expression of terror and worry on his face that he saw right now.

"I'm sorry," Cal whispered, squeezing Sol's hand. "For everything."

Sol stepped forward and drew Cal into a gentle, tentative, yet irrecoverable kiss. Then another one. But it was all quick, too quick, and Cal used the hand holding his weapon to swipe at his mouth when he stepped away.

"Get out of here before I have to let the cops shoot me," Cal said gruffly. "Will you go if I promise to make it out of here in one piece?"

Sol, fat tears streaming down his contused face and wrenching Cal's heart into a painful twist, nodded. "Go. Be careful."

Cal sniffed and swept through the doors leading onto the second floor, running through the hotel until he reached the blazing inferno on the second to last floor. To his surprise and relief, the guests were already there, hurrying down the stairs and obeying every direction Cal gave them. The group going down ran into the fire brigade going up.

"About damn time," Cal muttered on their way past.

"Wanna deal with the dead people or you want us to do that, too?" the fire captain retorted.

Cal let loose a surprised laugh painted with mild hysteria, ushering the guests and staff the rest of the way down the stairs.

The cops piled in to pull the civilians out of harm's way, ambulance attendants wrapping blankets around them and hurrying them to safety.

Cal pivoted to look back at the hotel, which, from that angle, looked unremarkable and untouched. Only when he backed up could he see the smoke rising from the top.

In doing so, he nearly bowled over Sol, who took his wrist and ran with him across the street, through the park, and under a bridge. The place was empty due to the crowd that had formed at the hotel, and Sol shivered violently under his blanket as he peered up at Cal with big, injured eyes.

"I figured they'd be angry at you," Sol said. "And I'm entitled to be angry at you, too, not just for what you did today, but after this..." He shook his head, gaze lingering on Cal's face. "It all feels so silly now."

"It's not silly." Cal realized he'd been holding the gun up to that point and he hastily opened his trench coat to holster it under his arm. "I needled you for quite a while. I wouldn't blame you for hating my guts by now."

"If something happened to you in that hotel, I wouldn't have been able to withstand the pain." Sol tipped his head, his expression unreadable. "...How could I hate someone who made me want to kiss them goodbye?"

Cal stared down at him, surprised once again. "Would you want to...kiss me hello?"

Sol looked as if he wanted to laugh and burst into tears simultaneously. He reached up to grasp Cal's face and brought him down, locking their lips together in a genuine, tender kiss that jellified Cal's knees and stole his breath from his lungs. Cal reciprocated, holding him close and gingerly as if Sol were fragile, and Cal decided he was very glad he didn't have to be shot by his colleagues after all.

[guildofscribes]

Humans are Weird: Indomitable Spirit Addition.

Okay, so I've been following these sort of posts on the internet for a while now, but now I have a Tumblr and the ability to add my two cents! Humans are stubborn. They're obnoxious and juvenile and too curious for their own good. And they break. So. Much. Stuff! "I just wanted to see how it worked, I'll put it back together, promise!" Humans are incorrigible. There is no changing them into something slightly more sane, on the galactic scale.

Humans don't ever know when to quit. Ahn-skletch (well, that's as close as galactic standard characters could get to the approximation of his name) had been assigned to an away party, to go take samples and verify the habitability bracket on some Nowhere moon close enough to the human's Sol system that they picked up one of those capricious creatures for "diversity within the crew". Convenient. Humans were only ever trouble, but oh well. Maybe it would be funny to watch them. Ahn-skletch had the misfortune to be partnered with the gee-awl-uh-gyst human they'd picked up... the kind that studied rocks. Close enough to Ahn-skletch's field of ecology that they got paired up because those two fields of study were the same thing, right? Beings of the Vlistant species were not known for strict logic alongside their high intelligence rating, and the waves of mild irritation that swept over when that erroneous point had been made were truly immense. Rocks and eco systems.

Perhaps the human had been annoyed as well, but they did not show it. The human stepped over and introduced itself as "Gene, nice to meet ya'."

The human Gene did not stick out its hand, as Ahn-skletch had heard humans greet each other with touching of hands or wrapping appendages around each other, but the aborted movement was there. Which was a relief, for the reason that Vlistants did not generally greatly enjoy unnecessary contact. Humans called the phenomenon "electric shock", but that seemed to be the closest description to the sensation they received upon physical contact with other living creatures, having a slightly greater dormant charge to their organic systems. Contact = discomfort. Why bother? But that did nothing for him on the surface of the moon, where the air was breathable, though not for extended periods. That could be treated for specific species easily enough for colonizing. The ground seemed rich enough, though soft and somewhat crumbly, which likely meant the soil would be easy to work and cultivate the native edible flora. Little pools dotted the landscape with regularity, the liquid inside tested positive for consumption for 73.25% of the galaxy's sentient inhabitants, and recent signs of fauna signaled it to be a thriving system. Very encouraging signs. Until the human Gene insisted on getting a closer look at a large cliff face nearby, one with a convenient shelf to look out over the land below. Ahn-skletch followed. Humans shouldn't be left alone, after all. Too many stories circulated the galaxy for that. While the human Gene touched, tapped, made little scrapings into bottles... did they just lick the cliff wall? Well, humans were weird, after all. Ahn-skletch stepped along toward the edge of the shelf, carefully examining the organic life that stretched out and up towards the atmosphere, taking note of the smaller life forms crawling along the ground and in the flora, glancing back to human Gene now and then, taking peace from the calm and quiet. The oddest sensation came up through Ahn-skletch's pods, and then the ground seemed to rise up before their eyes!

Survival reflexes honed by many training courses were all that allowed Ahn-skeltch to close their hands around a large root exposed in the ground as they began to fell with the collapsed shelf. A singular root, sticking out of the same crumbly soil that had just fallen out from underfoot. Almost immediately, as soon as Ahn-skletch looked from the root upward to gauge how far they had fallen, Human Gene's face appeared over the edge, along with an arm that just barely reached far enough to possibly reach. "Sleechh! Grab my hand!" Human Gene, "The electric transfer will shock your system! You must find something to lower down to me!" What terrible fortune to be paired with a human! So delicate a body system, the energy transfer would surely cause the muscles to spasm and drop Ahn-skletch! What terrible odds! "There's nothing in my pack! We didn't get the climbing cord! Grab my hand! I won't drop you! Hurry!" Human Gene scooted further forward on his belly. "The ground might crumble more, and you don't want to go down with that plant, do you?" By all the low gods of the Vlistants... "There is no way! You cannot abide the electric transfer long enough to pull me up!" Desperation for survival won out. Ahn-skletch let the root go with one per and reached up, grabbed that pale human hand, expected to feel the spasm and release and the short fallback to the root... ...but it never came. That human hand clamped like a vice around it, and with a great shout, human Gene pulled upward. Ahn-skletch could not look away from the human's face as they moved up, slowly inching up the face of the outcrop that seemed to be threatening to crumble again with every particle that bounced downward over an eternity that stretched forever. Then the moment came where Ahn-skletch had to let go of the root.

It took much effort to let go, to move that grip to human Gene's arm, which brought another loud, strained noise. But human Gene's grip did not waver, and only ever kept pulling upward. Human Gene groaned, little drops appeared on their skin in the effort to keep pulling upward. Further, further, a little more... Human Gene still did not let go. Particles came loose and tumbled by Ahn-skletch, down into the great distance to the ground far, far below. The energy currant cycling through their bodies became uncomfortable for even Ahn-skletch, who was better developed to handle it. Still, human Gene did not falter, pulled a little further, and a little more...

...Then the top! And they scrambled backward to more sturdy ground. Human Gene had to pry their fingers away from Ahn-skletch's appendage, they had so tightly clenched to keep their grip as their body had spasmed with the extra electric energy.

Human Gene just flexed and rolled the joints and panted, "I guess we'll pack a rope next time, yeah?" in a most underwhelming tone. Ahn-skletch could only stare in shock. But they agreed. Always pack a rope. And privately, Ahn-skletch noted to go with a human whenever possible. Humans would not give up. To their own detriment, they would not give up. Human Gene ("For goodness' sake, call me Gene! I don't call you 'Vlistant Sleechh, do I?") suffered muscular strain and subluxation of four joints through the ordeal to pull up Ahn-scletch. Even when it brought them harm to do so, Humans did not quit. Over many cycle, Ahn-skletch would collect many more stories of humans doing similar things to save crew-mates. So many stories ended telling of much damage to the humans for their determination to keep going. Humans are strange. They are illogical, silly, crass, and troublesome. They cannot control their curiosity or their strangeness. They will adopt tiny, dangerous creatures as "pets", and will spend many hours training harmful behaviors out of their wild creatures. Humans do not know when to quit. Perhaps that is why they have spread so fast through the galaxy. They are delicate, but they are not afraid to be wounded. Either they will heal, or they will not, but the risk is worth it. It is their spirit that makes them so. Humans are not the strongest in the universe, nor will they ever be, but they are indomitable.

[wickedsick]

UUUnite Analysis: Fuuko Izumo

(combining my love of undead Unluck, fighting games, and making shit up by pretending an undead Unluck fighting game already exists)

Normally, the main character of a fighting game has a pretty simple moveset. Easy to pick up, low skill floor, a consistent choice. The Ryus and Sol Badguys of the world.

Fuuko is not like that.

At first glance, she seems like a pretty weak character. No real standout options- her normals are just weak punches and kicks, and her gun is a mediocre ranged option at best. And yet, she's able to hold her own against some of the strongest members of the cast. How is that?

Unluck.

It's because of Unluck.

Unluck is Fuuko's signature gimmick, and the reason her normals are allowed to suck so much. Unluck gives her the single highest damage potential in all of UUUnite, and it's honestly not even close.

Unluck is a resource that builds as Fuuko hits the opponent with melee attacks or throws. Her ranged attacks won't scale Unluck, since those are all weapon attacks.

Anyway, what does Unluck actually do?

Unluck triggers if Fuuko either goes five seconds without building Unluck, or manually activates it with her 214U, "It's coming...". Depending on how much Unluck has been built up, some misfortune befalls the opponent, ranging from tripping and having pans fall on their head all the way to being hit with a meteor- the aforementioned 'highest damage potential'. However, it's not a linear scale- three blocks of Unluck is way more powerful than two.

This doesn't mean playing Fuuko is just limited to rushing in with 236P and hoping for a meteor, though. Your other specials and supers are integral parts of your gameplan, too.

214S and 214H are both connected to the gun, being Reload and Firing Stance, respectively. They're pretty self-explanatory. Her most complex special is her 236K, which lets her throw down a banana peel that opponents with Unluck will slip on, giving her an opening for a pretty easy grab- her fastest-scaling Unluck option.

As for her supers, they both have to do with her Unluck. 632146U, or Chain Reaction, turns all current Unluck into a bunch of quick combo-extenders, letting her use it to chain together enough melee hits for a bigger Unluck hit. By contrast, 236236U, "I want to know more about you", gives a temporary multiplier to how much Unluck each individual hit gives.

While Fuuko's gameplay does have a few weaknesses, they can be patched up with your choice of assist character.

Fuuko's one of a number of fighters with unique assists- in her case, it's Andy. While Latla and Move both provide her tools to get up close, Andy lets her keep her distance.

When summoned, Andy will come in and give Fuuko a smooch, at which point Fuuko will cut off his head. At this point, Andy basically becomes an Unluck-filled grenade, and replaces your weapon normals until you throw him or the Unluck triggers.

Carefully timing when to throw Andy is important- get it right, and you can hit your opponent with a bunch of stun, but get it wrong and you can completely whiff your assist, or worse, end up hitting yourself if you wait too long.

All in all, while certainly not as easy to pick up as most other 2d fighter protagonists, Fuuko can certainly hold her own- as long as you pay attention to her unique mechanics.

[erehwontownies]

💰 Alto

Utterly ruthless businessman Nick & charming but unscrupulous politician Vita have plotted the misfortune of almost everyone they've met. The infamous couple's 'professional' practices have them unofficially owning nearly every business in Del Sol. Their daughter Holly somehow managed to develop the polar opposite moral code, focusing on her passion for art instead. How did she become such a goody two-shoes?

Makeover of TS4's Holly Alto in Del Sol Valley who was then used to create her parents from TS2. Includes hand-picked preferences, skills, careers, etc. On the gallery at m0ckest or tray files below.

⤷ simfileshare • patreon

[mc-survivalist-steven]

"Oh! You've made it!"

[The event was a success, and everyone ate very well :D]

(ooc: Thank you for joining the collab! It was fun to do and people made great poses, so it's not hard to mix and match them all together! There is still more of the event, so stay tuned!)

Credits under Keep reading!

Sol and Lune by @dozen-arrows-in-my-chest and Benny from @ask-glitched-misfortune

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Chimer and Rozy from @chimerical-waters and Riki @askrikimaru! Thank you! .

Neithan and Hank from @asknathantheenderdragon! Thank you! .

Azure by @ask-azure-the-enderman! Thank you!

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Hex by @hexavexen! Thank you!

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Misc by @the-enchanted-mistakes! Thank you!

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Orchid by @orchid-151! Thank you!

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Niko by @chimeraditto! Thank you!

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Randy by @ask-randymc! Thank you!

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James by @wondon23-the-drowned-kid! Thank you!

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Thank you or the submissions!! :D

[sarafangirlart]

Hardly restraining her tears, she said What way out is there left, for me, possessed by the pain of a strange and monstrous love, that no one ever knew before? If the gods wanted to spare me they should have spared me, but if they wanted to destroy me, they might at least have visited on me a natural, and normal, misfortune. Mares do not burn with love for mares, or heifers for heifers: the ram inflames the ewe: its hind follows the stag. So, birds mate, and among all animals, not one female is attacked by lust for a female. I wish I were not one! Yet that Crete might not fail to bear every monstrosity, Pasiphae, Sol's daughter, loved a bull, though still that was a female and a male. My love, truth be told, is more extreme than that. She at least chased after the hope of fulfilment, though the bull had her because of her deceit, and in the likeness of a cow, and the one who was deceived was a male adulterer. Though all of the world's cleverness were concentrated here, though Daedalus were to return on waxen wings, what use would it be? Surely even his cunning arts could not make a boy out of a girl? Surely even he could not transform you, lanthe?

Ovid’s metamorphosis’ iphis and ianthe

Isis/Hera:

[m0ckest]

Alto Low-CC

Utterly ruthless businessman Nick & charming but unscrupulous politician Vita have plotted the misfortune of almost everyone they’ve met. The infamous couple’s ‘professional’ practices have them unofficially owning nearly every business in Del Sol. Their daughter Holly somehow managed to develop the polar opposite moral code, focusing on her passion for art instead. How did she become such a goody two-shoes?

No-cc version available on the gallery @m0ckest🖤 See my other low-cc makeovers here

[deathlessathanasia]

Hardly restraining her tears, she said What way out is there left, for me, possessed by the pain of a strange and monstrous love, that no one ever knew before? If the gods wanted to spare me they should have spared me, but if they wanted to destroy me, they might at least have visited on me a natural, and normal, misfortune. Mares do not burn with love for mares, or heifers for heifers: the ram inflames the ewe: its hind follows the stag. So, birds mate, and among all animals, not one female is attacked by lust for a female. I wish I were not one! Yet that Crete might not fail to bear every monstrosity, Pasiphae, Sol's daughter, loved a bull, though still that was a female and a male. My love, truth be told, is more extreme than that. She at least chased after the hope of fulfilment, though the bull had her because of her deceit, and in the likeness of a cow, and the one who was deceived was a male adulterer. Though all of the world's cleverness were concentrated here, though Daedalus were to return on waxen wings, what use would it be? Surely even his cunning arts could not make a boy out of a girl? Surely even he could not transform you, lanthe?

Ovid's metamorphosis' iphis and ianthe

This always made me so sad and wishing I could hug that poor despairing lesbian (forgive the anachronism) and let her know there's nothing wrong with her. 😢

[esuemmanuel]

Abrí los ojos queriendo buscarte, como aquel niño que busca a su madre recién despierta a la vida, pero la desgracia de no tenerte me encuentra al darme en la cara el golpe del sol que conmigo se lamenta el haberte perdido para salvarme de la muerte eterna.

I opened my eyes wanting to look for you, like a child looking for his mother just awakened to life, but the misfortune of not having you finds me when I am hit in the face by the sun that with me regrets having lost you to save me from eternal death.

[captainkurosolaire]

X2 ~ Eulogy of a Deadman

Reference ~ No Future ~ ♪"Moje More"♪ Gathering of black-donned Crew gathered around a small row boat. Coffin and flowers scattered in array alongside a Tricorne placed toppled delicately, with a picture-frame of a departed. Awaiting pyre and send-off into the open seas. First to speak was a Sea Maiden, and Counselor, Slafhota, whose hands clung together to keep from shaking holding a steep-burden. Prayers left to shambles. “He came to me in need. Seeking help, believing he was the biggest-screw up this realm has ever seen. But the-fact is his feet braved, open to my waters. He demonstrated conviction most wouldn’t achieve. Especially a pirate-nonetheless… I failed him. The depths of my words didn’t reach in-time.” Empathy writhed upon her visage, her shoulder gently tapped and escorted.

Changing positions. The Wildwood, Zieton, took the stage. “Didn’t care about the heady-pirate at-first. Loud, often obnoxiously-so, crude and boisterously-confident. But you couldn’t change-or-shake the fact at his core. He was genuine, it was obvious, wanting to remove people from misfortune. He would’ve gone to any-lengths to achieve that. Acquiring the world’s burden to retrieve.” Despite his rather-cool demeanor compared to others. His voice-quaked rivers, “My faith soon became… Was the desire, towards seeing him succeed.” Pushed off from the center, a commotion-irritated Raen, Sol ‘Nan’ Akami forged his way.

A ruckus darted-forth, broken-pitch quivering in a bark. Held back by two-other burly men, “Y-You cheeky feline-rat! Damn you!! I won’t forgive this! For leaving me the only survivor! YOU COWARD! WHO'S GONNA BE RESTORATION TO MY DESTRUCTION? I-I CAN’T RULE THE SEAS WITHOUT YOU!” Despite being once a deadly-foe and former enemy, he was broken-heart, that toughness and his often-jokester personality was removed. This was a brother’s grief. Even if not spoken-soon enough or heard in return often, it couldn’t sway their place from another. Fetching his pistol from holster, wanted to shoot that smug-face of the Seeker. But was deterred-away and seized from it, carried off. Small-lalafell, Me-Me, walked in replacement. “Mr.Hat was cool. I liked playing with him and pulling lots of pranks! Although he seemed angry with me a lot, I never felt like I wasn’t welcome and that’s something which made me really happy.” Talking more simply before rushing off to never show-glimpses of her sorrow. She was often the touted-indomitable demon no one could conceive or fathom.

Giant-burly, Hellsguard stomped the ground, dragging feet. Intense-fire often consumed him, now tears streaming down which doused him internally. “...I was fine living my peace, retreated from all. Never again knowing what glory would taste-like. Gave up on my ambition never knowing what I could achieve that’d make me feel-complete. Believing I could defeat-any adversity too easily. Then a broken-armed pirate showed up, kicking my door open and stepped on my cooked feast! Telling me so effortlessly, “Old-man, we’re going on a journey!” That brat-of-a-kid… Took me from my holed-in-solitude and forced me out to experiences. I-thought extinguished! …As I began sailing with you-lot, I started understanding what it means again, live-to-see. He made a believer-in-me and I will carry his dream for me with remaining eternity. With honor… To become a King among the Living. I see it now, that meaning… It’s the only King without a crown required, or throne and validation needed. You become it by simply being, and all your fellows, are your subordinates worthy to seize, there are truly no-enemies when freed.” Placing a hand-on-his-heart and burning against flesh, making an impactful scar of Captain’s memory. Symbolically carrying, fire of the deceased but more importantly… The Will. Casta who wrote his stories up to now and escapades, charting his Tales as a diary. She stumbled and couldn’t deter from whimpering. Taking moments before, “Long-ago, he saved me as a little-girl. I was enslaved, by a violent-father, at-least for what he bought me as. Yet Captain relinquished me, Brought me into the home-environment of another family altogether. He changed my life-around instantly. Became inspired, and so I wrote. Swore, I’d repay him! A hero-unsung for all to read… I studied-medical and medicinal means to bring relief like he did to a young-broken unguided soul. I helped his kind out, the pirates, crooks, outcasts, the one’s often shunned away because of their appearance. Who are we, to discriminate against what someone’s cover is? Doesn’t seem to be valid. The pages-written behind the cover, typically resides the part that matters. Summers-later. We convened by happenstance, fate-string tugged our way.” She changed-attitude becoming cheerful and happy recounting. “I got to meet him again! To mend to the best of my abilities. But in-the-end I couldn’t relieve him of great-injuries. Hurt to see him linger, pain stricken. …More than you could know. After-what-happened, I didn’t see myself anymore being useful, I sank below. Yet, always greets people with a infectious-smile. Telling me, “Casta, it’s because ye b’ th’ most human, is what reminds all ov’ us monsters or otherwise, what to still-be.” And suddenly I-felt again uplifted and at peace. E-Everytime! Everytime, I almost wanted to give-up on myself or this life. He took my wrists gently, the handsome rogue jumped in after me either in shallow-infested or shark-filled waters! EVERYTIME. Until, I couldn’t do anything left, but finally, see what he saw. My own-irreplaceable-worth. There’s no one-like that level of heroic-deed— only fantasy. Wouldn’t ever think he was capable-of-that, he was always going to surprise you.” Again her emotions-changed like thunder, now fury took over. First-time she spoke-loudly, and up for her-self or another, she used to be the most silent-timid. Now she had become a lioness for preserved memory.

“It’s unfair Thal’s balls! Why are the one’s born in Twelve’s favor or God’s boon, get every recognition, praise, but first-ones to retreat from history?! Why are they the ones remembered for legendary acts but one’s who’ve been here every-day Sun to Moon with every single-breath they are making our life-flourish forth, civilizations ushering, by giving new generations education, hand-outs in their most timely-need, not given the same?” Her fist-sledgehammered down on the podium. “You were the best of them. My sailor hero!” She left with anguished remorse gritting teeth. The arranging-voices heard so far and the imprint placed. The departed-soul managed to imprint on them that made their nature’s be thwarted. Unlikely a Noble, Lord Shiro Elune, of pristine-white but with a black-flower on his suit, drew up with elegance bearing all-the-markings of regality. “We were sworn-beings always at odds. I massacred his Crew when we first-met, afterall. He couldn’t overcome our gaps and the league of power I had over him. He was flawed.  From ideologies, stances, ethics. The scoundrel was determined more than any I ever met. He opposed anything with boldness, a charismatic charm that made you want to cheer for him. A showman. Spotlight that he shared with, overtime... You would-recognize; against any dismay. Among history, perhaps, the greatest failure. But because of that, is why many could-identify themselves with him, whether they wished, or knew not…” He showed-a-former, scoff of superiority, “P-fft wasn’t anyway, I could be factored in with the everyday and mundane… You all reeked with insecurities, you’re all leeches, parasites, complain and whimper about what you were born-with or not, making excuses as handicaps. Yet when I visited you in the Brumes, or your piss-covered environments, your legs-unmoved, all-you-walk, as if-you're-not losers! Hand-outs are what most of you commoners want fed. You dream-too-big, too vastly that it taints and pollutes all you come in-contact with. You demand-validation from your peers; despite knowing it’s an echo-chamber and your sentimental words and beliefs, ushering so foolishly, brazenly, you’re certain of yourselves among that group of fellow-collected sheep's! Listen, you'll never-amount to anything or anyone truthfully! Imbeciles, you cannot-deter history! You cannot change Hierarchy or Order! No matter how free you are. You aren’t saints, protagonists of stories, or Warriors of Light nor of Night, exceptionally never will-be anything but fodder for the ones who rule iron-supreme.” At this point-everyone attending booed demanding him-off stage and was irritated at this pompous Keeper who distinguished himself-above so highly.

“...However.” A twist was coming as the mob-was-overwhelmingly on the verge of rioting at a most unholy-timing. Clear and loud with authority. “I will admit my former notion was this; once a time. Yet this heathen behind, single-handedly changed all-these thoughts of certainties and brought questions back to them!” The crowd stopped, dumbfounded. Hanging on every-word this Noble Lord demonstrated. “Yes. Indeed I’d consider him no-longer an enemy. Although, I won our encounters often. He had defeated me too without being seen. Changing-my-perception. I acted impulsively, dishonored duels, acted on arrogant-egotistical-means I harbored and sheltered as deceitful pride. I thought, everything I did was-justifiably, fact. Groomed to be-placed above an echelon, higher-than-all who sees. But I fell from grace, my fiance and child even forsake my name upon their lips. When I failed these-ways, I had no idea how to handle it… That accursed-man with a golden crest, oh, he knew… He always knew, fought against my sake or for it, inconceivably! Now I stand upon this wake. I say! Honor him greatly and openly. You’ve proven, Noble, friend.” The regal-man did the unthinkable act. Others wouldn’t believe it. Taking a kneel before the burial-site. Lowering his head-to-ground level. Relinquishing his former-rapier that shared connection between the-two souls and beneath the Tricorne hat-of-the-former wielder. 

Thought and believed, Forever Destined. Tears-bellowed out from the crowd, moved once again. Diamond-encrusted tear crystals fell from the eyelids of the Keeper.

Further attenders close to the departed gave their speeches. Until the last Crewmate was brought up, Judas Caesar the First Crewmate who had deep-personal history off-and-on, back and forth chemistry. Tear-stained-eyes, looking once again like a battered-prince, who lost his entire-Kingdom. "...I" He couldn't get any words to wind. Despite owning that affinity. You could-practically hear a heart-pitch whining from his throat. "I-loved him. Wish I got a chance to say it, more things, left to the endless space. ...There was-no one else, I felt that strongly about, a soul-mate of the seas, could really only say. Promised me we'd get to my destination of my former-origins so-early on, made my dream's inked on his own sleeve, he was a different-type of cat, no pun-intended. See... When we got on the right-pace, all-things-aligned, I never felt like I wasn't at home." He empathized every-memory so fondly and vividly. "I did a lot of damage to him, we've our past, never out of disdain, hatred-made. His commitments and expectations placed on himself were deeper than ravines, those scars-any saw him with. Was type of guy, who never met any diversity or challenge too big for him. Even marooned, castaway, left on land, forced to survive and thrive. He always recovered the meaning to breathe, and taught others how too as well. As you've seen today... All that's, possibly, left now." "Rest ever Free." "Captain Of These Seas." An-arrow was emitted from springing bow-string for the last-blaze, as the ship was left to go burning, on and on, in lovely-blues, to hopefully find peace, the discovery he desired to always seek.

[artdecosupernova-writing]

Fictober '23 Prompt No. 1 — "It's not too late, let's go."

Category: Original WIP: Misfortunate Sol Rating: T Timeline: either after the events of the book or an AU. ooh mysterious CW: none Word Count: 527 Additional Notes: just a cute lil piece between the boys

***

Sol Iron supposed his first step out of the hotel shouldn't have been as surprising as it proved itself to be once he glanced up and locked eyes with Cal Logan. What continued to surprise him after his initial shock, however, was the police vehicle parked parallel to the curb behind the detective, passenger door wide open.

"Detective Logan...?" Sol said as he halted on the sidewalk. The revolving doors continued without him for a moment, unmanned at first until a passerby briskly took over after brushing past.

Logan's cheeks burned pink and he rubbed a bashful hand against the back of his head. "I told ya, already, kid...it's Calvin. Cal. You can call me...it's Cal."

"What are you doing here...Cal?"

"Well..." Cal cleared his throat and shrugged. "I thought maybe...I mean, I've got some time to kill, and I was hoping that, maybe, if you wanted..."

Sol took a step toward him, waiting patiently for him to locate and round up his thoughts.

Cal appeared to be stricken by the curiosity of Sol's expression, and he momentarily floundered while staring into his steel-gray eyes. "Uh..." He took a breath and braced himself, every muscle he possessed tensing and his fists shoved into the pockets of his trench coat. "If it's okay with you...I think we should go see a film."

There was a pause consisting only of the bustle of people on the street and the background buzz of honking some blocks away. Sol blinked, finding himself at a loss for words.

"It's a new car," Cal said suddenly, turning to throw a hand onto the roof of the black Model T. "I could run the siren and we'd get there real quick-like."

"You want to see a film with me?"

"Yeah." Cal swiped his thumb across his nose and sniffed, his attention darting everywhere but Sol's face as if perceiving his large, shocked eyes once again would cause him to melt. "We're burnin' daylight, so...yes or no?"

"What would we see?"

"They're showing Metropolis down at the Gem."

Sol carefully smiled. "I'd read in the paper that they're running Wings again at the Luxe Playhouse."

Cal, ducking his head in an attempt to hide his fully red face, removed a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lips drawn tight as the suggestion sank in. "That's the one with the pilots and Clara Bow..."

"It's a romantic war film." Sol tipped his head. "...That wouldn't quite be your speed, though, would it? Metropolis would be fine with me if that's what you'd be more comfortable seeing."

With a hearty sniff, Cal nodded. "I guess...it'd be okay. With...you."

Sol glanced down at his watch and his smile widened. "Well, it's showing soon, but it's not too late. Let's go."

Cal stepped aside to let him enter the vehicle, and when they were both seated, Sol's face warmed with flush and some shyness.

"You okay?" Cal asked, turning the car onto the road.

"Yes." Sol folded his hands on his lap, beaming. "I'm perfect."

Cal expelled a gentle snort of amusement. "Yeah," he said after a pause. "You kinda are."

Sol's heart raced the car to the theater.

[solradguy]

i think part of the reason why people focus more on ky’s bad parenting than sol’s is because of the way their dynamic with sin is treated in game.

like sin’s daddy issues one of defining traits in overture. the entire game is about him coming to terms with his bio dad leaving him. and while he learns to respect ky as a person, he it still isn’t enough for him to acknowledge ky as his dad. their issues have is their own theme song. and it bangs. sin’s theme in strive

on the other hand, sin made it pretty clear in overture that he considers sol as more of a father than ky has ever been. (he’s right.) this is despite the fact that sin’s first scene in all of guilty gear concludes with sol beating his ass (overture tutorial). this continues again in xrd’s tutorial, sol finds sin annoying in a tutorial so he hits hits him w/the sidewinder. this isn’t even mentioning the questionable food and putting sin on a collar and leash as a kid. or the fact that he blew sin’s child support money (courtesy of ky) off on the

the difference is that ky and sin’s faildad and son relationship is taken seriously. it’s crucial to their arcs. but whenever sol mistreats sin it’s treated as a joke and sin’s misfortune is the punchline.

Ah yeah I forgot how the actual games play off Sol's abuse towards Sin as a joke...

[frances-and-the-moon]

“Your feet that were eager to inflict pain on others and all the feet that walked next to them. Your lips that laughed at others’ misfortune and all the lips that laughed with them. Those leering eyes and all the eyes that gazed at them with affection. Your hand that mocked and broke others and all the hands that held it. And your soul that rejoiced in every single moment.

That’s how far I’m planning to go.”

Myeong-oh dies and cannot walk anymore

Hye-jeong loses her voice and cannot laugh anymore

Jae-joon loses his eyesight and cannot look at those he loves (Yeon-jin, Ye-sol) anymore

Sa-ra is handcuffed and put in prison where she cannot paint anymore

Yeon-jin's soul is crushed as she is abandoned by everyone around her

The Glory was Dante's Inferno thorough and thorough

[sapphicmimikyu]

could i request names and titles for absol please? thanks

I do not do titles, as I just don't feel like I could make good ones. However, I can still do names!

— • NAMES FOR ABSOL ♡

[PT: Names for Absol. End PT]

Calamity, Angel, Angeline, Angelette, Sombrange, Misfortune, Gardiange, Aversol, Angisol, Guardianne, Prophelle, Aurasol, Mira, Peace, Paixsol, Paix

{Sombrange = From the French word for dark (Sombre) and the French word for angel (Ange) ... Guardiange = The words "guardian angel" in French (ange gardien) mixed together ... Aversol = The French word for to warn (avertir) and -sol ... Mira = Means "peaceful ocean" ... Paixsol = From the french word for peace (Paix) and -sol}

[sunshinebarbarian]

Chapter 12 - The Pale Elf

All Chapters <3

As they walked, they heard a man's voice. He seemed to be calling out for help, but they couldn't see him. They followed the sound of his voice.

"You there! Come here, I need help." - as soon as the man came into view, he immediately addressed them. He had a pleading look in his face.

"Did he know we were coming? How?" - Sol whispered to Shadowheart, not taking her eyes off him. She could sense she was wary too.

"Please? Please come and help me?" - the man wore fancy clothes, embroidered with gold thread. Sol assumed he was a nobleman that had been abducted, and had had the misfortune of surviving the alien ship just to land in a different kind of alien environment. Sol approached slowly.

"Hurry, I've got one of those brain things cornered." - he motioned to it with a dagger. - "There, in the grass. You can kill it, can't you? Like you killed the others?"

"Uhm.. how did you..?" - Sol was interrupted by some movement in the bushes. - "Yeah I guess. Stand back."

A frightened boar ran off squealing down the path. Sol was about to turn around to tell the elf off for wasting her time , but she felt the sharpness of a blade on her neck. She berated herself for letting her guard down and being so stupid. He pushed her backwards, down on the floor, his dagger never leaving her neck. His legs pinned hers.

"Shh. Not a sound. Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours." - Sol's eyes met his. She was already having a bad day. Being made a fool by this elf was not making it better. She wanted to wring him like a towel. - "And you" - he addressed Shadowheart. - "Keep your distance. No need for this to get messy."

"I need her alive." - Shadowheart retorted, her hand on her mace. - "Stow that blade or I'll show you just how messy things can get."

"Promises, promises." - The elf redirected his attention to Sol. - "But I have other business, I'm afraid." - His face was so close to hers, she could see every detail of it. His skin was deathly white, his eyes blood red. She was briefly confused by the lack of a warm breath, but she quickly got over it due to more pressing matters - his blade, on her throat.

"Now, I saw you on the ship, didn't I? Nod." - he demanded an answer. He made the mistake of giving her a little leeway with the knife so she could nod. She headbutted him, the base of her horns colliding with his pretty little nose. - "Argh! You wretched little.." - he did not get to finish his insult. Sol freed her legs and pushed him off her.

He scrambled to get to his feet at the same time as her. As they stood, Sol's vision darkened, her mind twisted. The worm's familiar touch showed her visions from unfamiliar eyes, prowling dark, busy streets.

"What was that? What's going on?" - despite having clearly suffered the same dizzying worm connection, the elf still kept his dagger ready.

"It's the mind flayer's worm." - Sol explained. - "It's connected us."

"The worm. Of course. That explains things.. somewhat." - he sheathed his dagger. - "And to think, I was ready to decorate the ground with your innards. Apologies." - he offered a smile that reminded Sol of a dog caught red handed doing something it shouldn't, lowering it's ears and thumping its tail.

"Apologies accepted. I might have done the same were the roles reversed." - Sol smiled at him, showing all her teeth. She intended it as an animal would - a threat.

"Ah, a kindred spirit." - he chuckled, but he looked slightly nervous. He recomposed himself. - "My name's Astarion. I was in Baldur's Gate when those beasts snatched me."

"I'm Sol. I was in Baldur's Gate too. That's Shadowheart." - Shadowheart glared at Astarion.

"Is that so? We clearly move in different circles." - Astarion really nailed the nobleman act. Sol wouldn't fall for that one again. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"So, do you know anything about these worms?" - he changed the subject.

Sol grimaced. - "Yes, unfortunately. They'll turn us into mind flayers."

Astarion's eyes widened. - "Turn us into... HAH" - he started laughing mid sentence, but there was no humour in his laugh. - "HAHAHA! Of course it'll turn me into a monster. What else did I expect?" - for a second, his mask fell. He seemed to be experiencing too many emotions to contain himself; but his walls came back up just as quickly as they went down, leaving Sol wondering if she had imagined the anguish on his face.

"Although... it hasn't happened yet..." - his tone grew hopeful. - "If we can find an expert, someone that can control these things - there might still be time."

"You should travel with me." - Sol offered. - "Our odds are better together."

"You know.. I was ready to go this alone. But maybe sticking with the herd isn't such a bad idea." - he considered it, then opened his arms and bowed slightly, as if conceding defeat - "Alright, I accept. Lead on."

[mantleoflight]

Sol and the Known & Unknown Regions of the Galaxy

Deep in the Unknown Regions is a large swath of space called the Blackout Region. The Blackout Region encompasses a number of Destiny species and star systems in the Unknown Regions such as Torobatl, the homeworld and center of the Cabal Empire; Riis, the destroyed homeworld of the Eliksni (later known as the Fallen); and Fundament, the ancestral gas-giant homeworld of the Hive and Hive Worm Gods.

The Blackout Region is known as such because once someone goes in, it becomes impossible to get out again without hyperspace technology. This is actually due to paracausal terraforming done by the Traveler on its way to the center of its circle. The Traveler needed a large enough space to lure and contain the forces chasing it within the Blackout Zone (Lobster Trap). Unfortunately, the center of this lobster trap ended up with the Traveler in Sol, staying on Earth in a final sacrifice to keep the dark forces away from the rest of the Galaxy.

Thus, this region accounts for the zealous conquering of the Cabal, the piracy of the Fallen, the aggressive terraforming of the Vex, and the fact that Hive are all-consuming pestilence determined to devour all other living things they encounter. It hopes to contain these hyper-aggressive enemies within its lobster trap, and hopes the people of Sol whom it has empowered with pieces of its own Light (the Ghosts) will forgive it for its part in their continual misfortunes.