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something-pithy · 9 months

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Notes and an Update: The Alignment Issue

pictured above: just a regular Tuesday night at Ancunín Palace

“So with Astarion, his evil ending is actually him...much of what he does is out of fear. And as a player, you can say to him, ‘You're right to be afraid.’ And that sends him to a really horrible place, and that I think is really powerful.” -- Adam Smith, Lead Writer of BG3

I’ve been talking about my notes about alignment in D&D and BG3 and my interpretation of them in the context of an echo, a stain since before I even started with these “Notes and an Update” posts. But every week, something else has come up that I wanted to post more than my alignment notes.

I think this might be a chronology thing. These notes seem old to me because they predate the vast majority of the story. I don’t remember the specific date I decided to write out my thoughts about the nature of “good” and “evil” as DnD 5e describes them / how they manifest in BG3, specifically in Astarion, but I know that I was scribbling notes – or whatever the keyboard version of scribbling notes is – about it since a palmful of stars / an echo a stain was just “the desired constellation.”

This is because DnD has Things to Say about vampires and their morality, who Astarion is as a character in this series is deeply informed by what he’s willing to do to get what he wants.

My decision to finally post these notes now is informed by a couple of main things:

The IGN interview posted this past Friday, December 15th titled “Baldur’s Gate 3 Developers Explain Its Controversial Endings, Beloved Characters, and Making the Best RPG of 2023,” wherein Adam Smith makes the statement I quote at the top of this post and

The description AO3 user fanciful included in their bookmark of the story*:

“There's several things in here I haven't seen in other Astarion/Tav fics, so do read this if you're looking for something unique.”

*(yeah, I’m not gonna pretend I’m so cool and unaffected that I don’t peek at who’s bookmarked the story to see what they might have said about it lol).

When I found fanciful’s blurb, I almost immediately went to bother my phenomenal beta, Komo, (whom I’ve mentioned before and will again, and who is probably a better beta than I deserve but very much the beta this story could not exist as it does without). The gist of my question to her was OMG WHAT DOES THIS MEAN, to which her response, in part, was that she was curious as well, but that she had her own thoughts:

“I think your take on a vampire lord/ascendant's "evilness" is unique. Like, it's not how ascendant fans who explain away his bad behavior, but also not [how] a traditional spawn fan would write him either, recognizing [there’s] nuance to the evilness.”

Which was like, SUCH a great compliment specifically because I’ve thought a lot (I mean a fuckin’ LOT) about how evil works, and how it works in this story. So here are my (abridged and ever-evolving) notes about all this, which are a very important part of the basis of my approach to Astarion’s characterization in aeas.

So first of all, the Adam Smith quote above indicates that Ascendant!Astarion’s alignment is not due to some mystical, transformative, vampire or diabolical force. It’s not the result of Mephistopheles taking his soul as part of the bargain. Any evil behavior / attitudes Ascendant!Astarion demonstrates are purely a result of his own choices, made of sound mind, body, and soul.

The DnD 5e Monster Manual labels vampire lords specifically as lawful evil.

Now I’m going to say here that I think the “good” and “evil” alignment binary is flawed. Yeah, there’s neutral, but that still operates as kind of a middle ground for this axis. I think something more accurate would be something referring to the good of the majority vs. self-interest, but I’m not here to get into all that.

For expediency, I’m going to roll with the definition of evil that seems to fit what DnD 5e is going for. And according to past DnD sourcebooks (this isn’t in 5e, but 5e offers much less detail about alignment than previous editions), evil “implies hurting, oppressing, and killing others.”

So for the purposes of these notes, my interpretation of “evil” in general and specifically in terms of an echo, a stain is that a character with an “evil” alignment is willing to hurt, oppress, or kill others without compunction in order to achieve their goals.

In my mind this doesn’t mean that they necessarily want to do those things, or enjoy them (though there’s evidence that Astarion does both at different points in-game), just that if that’s what it takes, then that’s what it takes. And they’ll do what it takes.

Now, it’s my inclination to view RPG sourcebooks as somewhat flexible depending on what best serves to the story, but also, in-game, there’s plenty of evidence to indicate Astarion was created and written as a character whose baseline can be read, at best, as chaotic neutral, but more likely as neutral evil if we’re going by the above definition.

So what?

OK well, in an interview with some folks at Collider, Neil Newbon said that the “Ascendant Ending” was the one he’d kind of pictured for Astarion.

“Actually I saw Astarion always going that route [Ascension], whereas other characters might want to [...] help him not only survive, and thrive in a positive way.”*

From a character arc standpoint, I agree with Neil: there’s no doubt in my mind that without a good-aligned Tav, Astarion would be on Ascension like white on rice as a default. I think it’s the baseline trajectory of who he is at the start of the game.

I also believe that it is *possible*, not a guarantee, but *possible,* that being in an environment where he’s surrounded by people who do genuinely care about him and his well-being, and yeah, with the support of a good-aligned Tav with whom he experiences deep mutual caring and connection (whether platonic or romantic), who treats him with respect, love, compassion, and care, who sees the best in him and encourages it in him / demands it of him until he can see it himself, he would not choose to go Murdertown, aka the Ascension route.

I also don’t think a high-approval, good-aligned Tav in his life, whether as a lover as a friend, precludes the possibility of Astarion choosing the Ascension route (clearly). BUT ALSO.

I don’t believe in binaries.

Does Astarion choosing ascension mean that suddenly all the ways in which he may have changed his perspective during the course of his adventures with a good-aligned Tav are nullified?

I don’t think so.

I’m willing to entertain DnD’s canonical assertion that a vampire lord’s emotions are altered by their transformation; however, I also think it’s feasible enough that Astarion’s tendencies toward obsession, paranoia, and possessiveness already existed within him prior to ascension, if to much less pronounced degrees. I think it’s entirely plausible that ascension amplified these qualities in him. but also Astarion’s decision to ascend is indicative of him embracing a worldview that is, as Smith says, deeply rooted in fear.

This fear impacts another important element of Astarion’s character in aeas, which is the way he perceives himself. Astarion as he exists in aeas is an Astarion who as a spawn, believed he was worth nothing. Astarion as he exists in aeas also has put Tav on a very high pedestal. This is not to say he doesn’t know or love Tav for who she is – I think this Astarion knows this Tav very well. But his perceptions about her are also skewed by his perceptions about himself, and a whole bunch of other things -- including fear.

SO when Tav leaves him, a couple of things happen in terms of his character, two of which are:

one of his absolute worst fears is realized (that Tav will leave him, specifically because he is innately a piece of shit and she finally figured it out), and there’s nothing he can do about it.

the realization of this fear prompts the understanding that he is not, in fact, all-powerful, therefore his power and control must be increased at any and all costs.

the monumental scope of his power and, frankly, terrifying disposition ensure that, without Tav in his life, there is literally no one offering a different perspective as a counterweight to this fear-based thinking.

Do I think Tav’s reemergence in Baldur’s Gate and Astarion’s life will change things for him?

Ehhhhh, that’s a complicated question with a variety of complicated answers that all boil down to, “Well, that depends.” loooool

I don’t know if I’ve said everything I could say here, but I’m running out of steam and if I’m getting tired of writing, you must be getting tired of reading, so I’ll leave it here:

tl;dr: aeas has been and will continue to be informed from start to finish by the ideas that

Ascended Astarion is absolutely and 100% Astarion

whether or not alignment is mutable, people/characters can and do still change based on their experiences and environment.

Make of that what you will. LOOOOOL

#ascendant astarion #bg3 #character analysis #astarion x tav #astarion fic #bg3 fic #slow burn #banter #bard!tav #manipulative astarion #tav's insight proficiency tho #headcanon #meta #character study #analysis #never forget HE EVIL

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hero-deserves-to-be-happy · 5 months

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12 years after the good ending of OMORI, Hero reflects on the unexpected turns his life has taken. He wasn't the same person he used to be and knew he would never be that person again. After such a devastating loss, he had truly believed he could never be happy again, but things were different now...

OR Hero finds healing and loves again (the abridged version).

Past Hero/Mari and Current Hero/Zoey (OC) Slice of Life, Romance, and Hurt/Comfort.

Rated G. Spoilers for OMORI and some discussion of canonical character death, grief and mourning.

Word Count: 4,950. Full Text Below the Cut. Link to the Work on AO3.

A/N: Both of us creators are passionate Hero/Mari shippers, but we are also huge believers that Hero deserves to be happy and that Mari would want him to be happy. He might not ever be ready to move on and might not ever want a romantic relationship like that again, but if he did, this story is just a little glimpse into what we hope it would be like. It's a delicate situation, and we hope this little story has done justice to his grief and the kinds of struggles he would experience in moving on while also realizing it doesn't mean he has to forget.

This story includes specific references to the other stories in the "When Sun Shines Again" series (particularly "Am I Ready For Love Or Maybe Just A Best Friend?"), but this should stand alone and work as a sort of abridged version and epilogue to everything else so reading the other stories is unnecessary. The cover is Mod Sprinkles' art with the title graphics free to use from Canva. Thanks for reading! ☂️

“I missed this, you know…”

With a flick of the spatula, Hero flipped the egg he was currently frying, but he smiled—turning to Zoey with warm, affectionate eyes. “Yeah, me too. It’s been too long. Sorry…” He sighed wearily as he stirred the sauce for his chilaquiles. “We used to have brunch all the time…”

His voice trailed as he thought of the pediatric PM&R residency that had been running him ragged for the past five years leaving barely any time for anything else. Gone were the days of making brunch every Sunday for his friends like he had back in college. Most days he couldn’t even find the time to make himself a sandwich.

Zoey chuckled as she tucked a piece of short red hair behind her ear. “I meant I missed you, Hero—not brunch.” As she leaned over the counter, her light, teasing laugh wrinkled her freckled nose. “I would have been perfectly happy picking something up from that bagel place down the street and just sitting here doing nothing. You didn’t have to cook for me on your only morning off this week.”

“I know, but I wanted to,” he insisted with a gentle smile as he met her green eyes. “I feel like I never see you anymore.”

“It’s okay. You’re a medical resident,” she replied in that matter-of-fact way of hers. “I don’t expect to see you.”

Hero sighed heavily. He supposed she had a point. Residency was…a lot. Truthfully, he felt like he didn’t see anybody anymore. Something guiltily coiled in his stomach as he thought about his missed calls from Kel or Sally’s dance recital he had had to skip out on. He had rescheduled on his parents about half-a-dozen times when they had wanted him to go through some boxes of his stuff they had found in their garage, and he had missed Sunny’s daughter’s first birthday when he just couldn’t get out of work.

Despite his best efforts to be present for his loved ones, he had to develop a code system to classify emergencies. These days it was nearly impossible to get ahold of him unless someone texted him “Tea Time” indicating they needed immediate assistance that just couldn’t wait.

It was Zoey’s idea, but she had never used it.

If Hero was being honest, that made him feel particularly guilty. He couldn’t stand the fact that he felt spread so thin he didn’t have much left over to give her. She didn’t seem to mind though—usually shrugged it off with insistences that she was busy with her own career too, her dream job: building bridges as a civil engineer. Perhaps that was part of what worked for them. She was so independent—never needed what he couldn’t give her, but that didn’t mean he wanted that for her. He couldn’t help but feel she deserved so much better, so much more than what he had to offer…and not just in terms of his time and attention.

“You have to work again this afternoon, right?” asked Zoey pulling him out of his thoughts. When he nodded, she added, “Just don’t wear yourself out, okay?”

“I’ll try my best.”

As he turned to crack another egg, he caught sight of Zoey’s hard hat on the counter. “Do you have to work today too?”

She shrugged. “Technically no, but I said I’d swing by the building site.”

“In this weather?” Hero’s brow furrowed as he glanced out the window watching the violent pattering of the rain against the glass. “It’s really coming down out there.”

“It’s fine. I have an umbrella.” She waved her hand dismissively motioning to the corner where she had placed the familiar red umbrella she had let him borrow the night they officially met twelve years ago. It was hard to believe it had been that long. “Besides you know I don’t mind the rain,” she added with a smile. “And this helmet’s water resistant.”

“Nice hat,” Hero gently teased—the slightest twitch of a smile curling in the corners of his mouth as she playfully nestled the thick plastic rim into her short red hair.

“You really do love this hard hat, don’t you? You want to try it on or something?”

Hero laughed but shook his head. “I’m not sure it would look nearly as good on me.”

Zoey’s lips curved into a teasing smile. “Oh but everything looks good on you, Mr. Prince,” she quipped, and Hero couldn’t stifle his laugh at her use of the rather cheeky nickname she had given him back in their undergrad. He was honestly surprised it had stuck around this long—though these days she only used it when she was playfully teasing him. “Even those bright green scrubs. I’m going to miss them when you’re not a resident anymore, you know?”

Hero chuckled but sighed as he adjusted his shirt under his apron—medical resident green as Aubrey probably would have said. He had honestly forgotten he was wearing scrubs right now as he had been planning to change into different ones right before he left for the hospital, but they had been the only thing clean in his closet. He really needed to do laundry though he didn’t mind scrubs and definitely hadn’t minded the color. Still he conceded, “I think the lab coat will be better. Just a few more weeks of these. It’s honestly kind of hard to believe it’s almost over.”

Zoey chuckled then dryly teased, “What are you going to do with all that extra time?”

Hero tilted his head. “I have a few ideas…”

“Is one of them getting a good night’s sleep? Because I think you should bump that up to the top of the list.”

“Yeah…” he chuckled before giving the sauce another stir and flipping his eggs. That wasn’t exactly what he had in mind. Instead he felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he thought about his Mamá Alma’s engagement ring he had recently picked up from his safety deposit box at the bank. When his grandmother had given it to him years ago, he had honestly thought he would never use it, but despite his protests that he could never love again and her beautiful jewelry would waste away in a vault forever, she had just patted his cheek calling him ‘concinerito’ just like she used to do when he was a little boy and said, ‘El corazón hace espacio’—‘the heart makes room.’

For a very long time he hadn’t really believed that or at least, hadn’t really understood it, but, as unbelievable as it was, things were different now.

Zoey had been his best friend for over a decade, and he had loved her for years without realizing it or, rather, without being ready to accept it. Even though everyone they knew would have insisted it was a long time coming by the time he had finally asked her out for a cup of coffee three years ago, it still didn’t seem real. When Mari had died, Hero had genuinely believed he never would and never even could feel that way about anyone ever again, and truthfully, he had been planning to never really move on. But…there was just something about Zoey. To this day, he still couldn’t even begin to describe or explain the way he felt about her—the way she made him feel things he didn’t know he could feel anymore. The way her smile healed something in him. The way he could look into her eyes and see a future, a life he had never imagined was possible for him anymore. The way she made him believe he could be happy again—made him believe he could love again.

There was no one else in the world like her. She was brilliant, driven, and really spunky—a little rough around the edges but so empathetic, so much softer than she wanted people to know and an amazing friend. Back in college when he never would have imagined he would eventually date her, they used to stay up until all hours of the night making sandwiches and drinking tea whenever their fraternity and sorority hosted parties and they’d just talk for hours about anything, everything. She was so passionate, especially about bridges and her dreams of wanting to build them someday. Hero could have listened to her talk about it forever even though he didn’t know the first thing about engineering. Perhaps even more than that, she was easy to talk to too—had this way of seeing through him. It was vulnerable but safe. He found himself telling her things that he could never tell anyone else—things about himself, his life, his family, and his past: mistakes, regrets, fears, even his grief.

He’d never forget the first time he told her about Mari. It was the first time that he had ever told anyone who hadn’t known her about it, and he didn’t know what to expect, didn’t know what she would say. In his wildest dreams, he would have never imagined she would cry for him, hold him, tell him that she wished he had gotten to have his “forever” with her. He was so moved just thinking about it, and to this day, he could barely believe that someone could care that much, could love him that much after everything. It was more than he felt he deserved. And she deserved everything—deserved so much more than he had to give her.

He would give her anything, everything that he had to give—would do anything to make her happy, but he couldn’t help but worry it wasn’t enough. Even though he loved her in a way he had never believed he could love someone again, the truth was his heart was a lot more broken and bruised than it used to be. He was a lot more broken and bruised than he used to be. He just wasn’t the same person that he was before, but he desperately wished he could be that person for her, the kind of person she deserved—someone whole.

“Hey, you okay?” she asked with a slight tilt of her head and a kind smile. Hero nodded.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just feeling a little sentimental, I guess.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to miss all the insane hours and marathon shifts?” she teased, and Hero chuckled, somewhat grateful she didn’t quite know what he was getting sentimental about.

“No. I’m definitely looking forward to having a normal schedule for a change and consistent days off.” Or so he hoped anyway…but he didn’t add that part. Instead he turned off the stove’s burner and poured his salsa over the plates of tortillas, then topped with fried eggs before he handed one of the dishes to Zoey.

“This is delicious,” she said between forkfuls as he took a seat across from her at the table. “Though I expected nothing less from you.”

Hero’s mouth curved into a bright but almost bashful smile as he scratched the back of his neck. “I’m sure it’s not that great. I’m kind of out of practice…”

Shaking her head, she rolled her eyes at him somewhat affectionately. “I can’t imagine what ‘in practice’ would taste like,” she quipped before she took another bite with a satisfied hum. “Do you ever think you could’ve been a chef in another life?”

Hero chuckled lightly, but he shrugged as the slightest smile twitched in the corners of his mouth. “I wanted to be—back when I was a kid…” He paused, sighed. He knew she already knew that—already knew everything about him, but she didn’t seem to mind him repeating himself. He could feel her hand reach across the table to gently cover his until their fingers intertwined, until he looked up at her and met her bright green eyes—inquisitive but kind…and knowing as if she could see right through him and understood the bittersweet weight behind those words. As she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, he squeezed her hand and added, “But I don’t want that anymore...”

“Think you’d be even more stressed as a chef?”

“Probably.” His lips twitched before he took a bite of his chilaquiles. “And you’d see even less of me.”

Hero couldn’t help but smile at the way she stifled a laugh as she caught his dry joke. Zoey tilted her head at him. “What do you want now?” she asked, as if she didn’t already know the answer.

His cheeks grew warm as he thought of that ring again, but he dryly quipped, “A good night’s sleep.”

She laughed aloud this time—her smile reaching her green eyes until she bantered, “Well don’t set the bar too high. Gotta keep those wildest dreams in perspective, you know? Make them attainable.” Despite the dryness of her delivery, she couldn’t quite hold back her smile. As Hero laughed, her expression softened. “You really do deserve some rest, Mr. Prince. Just because you can function on three hours of sleep, doesn’t mean you should. It shouldn’t be a dream—it’s pretty fixable.”

“You’re starting to sound like Kel…”

Zoey shrugged. “I’ve always said Scotty’s got a lot on the ball,” she said using the nickname she had given Kel over a decade ago on account of his penchant for fixing things. “It’s good advice, and I’m not just saying that because he agrees with me.” The tines of her fork scraped against her plate as she finished the last bite. She stared at her empty plate with a thoughtful hum. “Maybe I should head out—give you some time to take a nap before you have to work this afternoon.”

“You don’t have to stay, but I don’t think I’m going to sleep if you go so…don’t leave because of that.”

Zoey smiled but sighed. “Wishful thinking on my part, I guess.

A loud crash of thunder clanged outside the window, and she frowned. “I had better get going though—head over to the site before the weather gets any worse.”

With a brisk nod, Hero rose from his seat to help Zoey clear her dishes. “I’ve got it,” he insisted, but she somewhat playfully wrestled her plate away from him with a pointed frown.

“You cooked. I can clean up.”

As she quirked an eyebrow at him and crossed her arms, Hero sighed. He knew this look. It meant there was no point in arguing with her—not that he was much of an arguer to begin with. Still, he gently insisted, “At least let me help. It’ll be faster with both of us.”

Zoey teasingly rolled her eyes, but she shrugged. “If you insist…”

Hero nodded, grabbing his used pans and utensils and joining her at the sink. It was a little like déjà vu to be honest given how often they had done dishes together back in college—though Hero would be the first to admit it was much faster and much easier with a consistently functioning dishwasher.

As if she could somehow read his mind, she quipped, “Well this is familiar…” as she rinsed off their plates in foamy, soapy water. Chuckling, he gently nudged her with his shoulder as reached for a sponge to start scrubbing the remnants of fried eggs off his pan, and she let out a breathy laugh. “Can’t say I missed dishes too much—though they were always more fun with you.”

“Pretty sure that was you actually…” His mouth twitched into a kind smile. “You always thought of great things for us to talk about to help us pass the time.”

He could feel Zoey shift beside him, and she sighed as she intently scrubbed at the stained rim of the saucepan. “You know, there actually was something I wanted to talk to you about today…”

Hero hummed glancing at her over his shoulder as he loaded the silverware into dishwasher. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I wanted to ask you something…But you have to promise me you’re going to be honest.”

“Of course,” chuckled Hero, but Zoey didn’t laugh.

“I mean it. Don’t just say it’s fine because you think that’s what I want to hear.” She paused, and Hero could feel his face flush. “I don’t want to cross a line.”

His brow furrowing, Hero stopped loading the dishes and turned to look at her—meeting her eyes. “Zoey…” His voice hitched, and he could feel his hands trembling even as he tried to calm his breathing. “Is everything okay?”

She nodded with a slight, reassuring smile. “Yeah. Everything’s okay. I just…” Her voice trailed. She wouldn’t look up from the saucepan she was cleaning. “Do you think I could visit Mari’s grave sometime…?”

Hero froze. Of all the things she could have said, he would have never expected that. She had visited there with him several times in the past, but it was always as support for him when he was going there anyway. She had never asked to make a special trip before. It surprised him, but it didn’t necessarily feel like a bad thing. “Uh…yeah. Sure,” he stumbled running a hand through his hair. “I um…Gosh, I don’t know when I’m going to have another day off but when I finally finish up this residency and get a more consistent schedule I’m sure we can…”

“Hero,” she cut him off. “I meant, could I go alone? Would that be weird for you if I went to visit her sometime by myself?”

Something twisted in Hero’s chest. He didn’t know how to feel—didn’t really know what to say to that. It seemed so unexpected, but he didn’t think he had a problem with it. After all, Zoey knew a lot about Mari—not just from him but from Sunny and Kel too, even Aubrey and Basil. He supposed it could make sense that she might want to visit her…but the truth was, he really couldn’t understand why.

Unless…

He swallowed hard—biting down on his lip. He couldn’t even think it.

“Hero?” He felt her hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off. “Just forget it okay? It was a silly idea. There were just some things that I wanted to say to her, that’s all, but if it’s weird for you, I don’t want to cross that line.”

“No. No, it’s okay. It’s not weird for me, if that’s what you want to do. It’s just…” His voice trailed. He didn’t have the words for what he wanted to say, the question he wanted to ask. In a way, he was almost scared of it—scared of the answer. The truth.

He had tried to avoid it all this time. While he had told her a lot about Mari, he had tried so hard to keep it focused on him and his grief—on how he felt when she died, how he had blamed himself, how it had wreaked havoc on his relationships with the people he had cared about most, how it nearly destroyed him and how he had never thought he could ever be happy again. But she popped up in his stories sometimes and he had told Zoey the most basic things about her that she was kind, smart, and talented, she played piano and was cheerful and warm, the kind of person you could always count on to be on your side or to brighten your day oftentimes just by smiling because when she smiled you would’ve sworn the sun shined brighter.

Zoey knew that he loved Mari, that a part of him would probably always love her. It didn’t seem to bother her at all, but it had been so hard for him to make peace with that in himself. Even now, there were times when he second-guessed himself, felt guilty that his heart was so broken and bruised—that he couldn’t give her everything that he felt she deserved. He desperately wrestled with the fear he wasn’t enough, with the feeling that it wasn’t fair to her that despite how much he loved her and would have done anything for her it would be impossible for him to ever say that she had been the one and only love of his life. He was terrified that she would feel slighted—that she’d compare herself to Mari and feel trapped in her shadow, feel like she was only a second choice or a last resort.

His heart ached when he thought about it—thought about how he could never be the kind of person that Zoey truly deserved: the person he had once been, in that other life before Mari’s death, but that person had died with her and no amount of healing could ever bring him back. There was so little he had to give anymore though he would give Zoey the world if he could. It was so hard to believe his painfully pieced together heart was worth much of anything—even though he loved her with every inch, every crack, every crevice, ever bruise and broken edge of it. He loved her more than he had ever imagined he would or even could love someone again. It wasn’t better or worse or more or less, just so different from the way he had loved Mari. He just wasn’t sure that was enough.

And now…he didn’t know if she was sure either. What else could she possibly want to say to Mari without him there than that she was just playing second fiddle, just taking her leftovers, just standing in as a last resort.

“Zoey, I…” Hero’s eyes burned as the words got caught in the back of his throat, but he eventually choked out a rambling, probably incoherent, “You know I never wanted you to feel like you had to compare yourself to Mari. I…If I’ve ever done anything to make you feel like…like you—like you’re…like you’re only a—”

“Stop.” She cut him off firm but kind. Hero bit his lip, but he wouldn’t look at her. He couldn’t. “Look at me,” she said, but when he couldn’t bring himself to, her thumb traced gentle circles across his cheek. “Henry.”

He inhaled sharply, and something fluttered in his chest at the sound of his real name. She rarely ever used it—only when she wanted to remind him to stop being a “hero” and take care of himself or, he supposed, in times like these when she really wanted to get his attention. It had a weight and a gravity which was only intensified the minute he finally looked into her eyes and she said, “You have never made me feel like a second choice.”

He finally let go of the breath he was holding. In relief, his eyes fluttered closed, but he bit his lip. “I’m sorry…”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” she insisted. “You know how I feel. We’ve talked about this.”

They had. Multiple times. But that didn’t ever take away the nagging feeling in the back of his mind that “You shouldn’t have to…”

Swallowing hard, he took a shaky breath and turned away from her. His shoulders twitched as he stared down at his hands with a bittersweet smile. “I just…I want more for you.”

“More than the perfect man? I’d really like to see that…” she quipped dryly. “And I’m flattered, but I don’t think that’s possible, Mr. Prince.”

His mouth curved into a smile in spite of himself, but he could feel his face growing warm. “I’m far from perfect…” he sheepishly insisted, rubbing his hand across the nape of his neck. “And…” His smile faded. “I’m serious, Zoey.”

“So am I.” Her voice was matter-of-fact—honest, but an affectionate smile curved in the corners of her mouth. “There is no one else like you. You know I still field calls from my old sorority sisters asking how I managed to bag prince charming.”

As Zoey teasingly rolled her eyes with a shake of her head, an awkward, disbelieving chuckle escaped Hero’s mouth. He buried his blushing face in his hands as Zoey continued, “Of course, I never dignify that with a response, but…” She shrugged. “If I did, the answer is really, ‘I have no idea.’”

Hero laughed in spite of himself, feeling very guilty for it, but Zoey didn’t seem to mind—just chuckled lightly herself and smiled at him until her expression and her voice softened. “Jokes aside though I…I honestly didn’t think it was ever going to happen. Not that it couldn’t—just that…I didn’t think you were ever going to be ready.”

He nodded. The truth was he hadn’t either.

“No one would’ve blamed you if you weren’t. I definitely wouldn’t have…Moving on—being ready for that…that’s all you. That’s your choice.” She paused and met his eyes. “And you chose that—you chose me. And that means more to me than the idea of us being cosmically destined soulmates or the one and only love of your life. I don’t need that. I don’t even want it, and I don’t want someone who can give that to me. I only…want to be with you.” Shaking her head, she laughed at herself muttering, “That’s so corny…”

Hero reached out his hand to her—pushing that one wild strand of hair out her face and pressing his palm to her cheek. “Mi vida…”

As she glanced up at him, he could only hope that the look in his eyes conveyed the deeper meaning of those words—conveyed everything he wanted to say every time he called her that. He didn’t use it often—didn’t really use terms of endearment much anymore. It felt wrong to call her the same things he had called Mari. He never called her ‘honey’ or ‘sweetheart’ or his most precious name for Mari, ‘Mi corazón’: ‘my heart.’ But Zoey and only Zoey was ‘Mi vida’—‘My life.’ She liked it well enough—thought it was a pun because of her name. Zoey. Life. His life. A life he never dreamed he’d be able to have.

“I love you,” he said, and her bright green eyes smiled at him.

“I know you do. And you don’t have to try to prove it to me by pretending Mari never existed.” She broke away from his gaze and glanced over his shoulder at the cluster of old photographs of him and his friends hanging on his living room wall—memories of that other life and who he had used to be back when Mari was alive. It had been Zoey’s idea to hang them up, and she said now exactly what she had said then, “Moving on doesn’t mean having to forget, Hero.”

His heart ached at those words, and he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. He wasn’t sure how long he held her until she sighed, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t mean to upset you. I won’t go.”

“No, I think you should,” Hero insisted. “I mean…if that’s something you want or need to do.”

“It is. But not for the reasons you think…” She sighed. “Not because I’m comparing myself to her or anything like that. I guess I just…I wanted to reassure her that I’d take care of you. That’s all.” She pulled away from him with a soft, affectionate, smile. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s…really good.” His eyes grew misty, and his voice hitched. “Thank you.”

Her smile brightened, and it reached her eyes. He knew that she understood those words meant infinitely more than what he had said.

“Hero…” she began. “You know I love you, right?”

He nodded, but he couldn’t hold back the smile that tugged at his lips. “Yeah.”

“Can I ask you one more thing?” she asked with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

“Anything.”

She tilted her head, pursing her lips together. “And you promise you won’t take it the wrong way?”

He swallowed hard—his hands beginning to shake again, but he managed, “I promise.”

Zoey took a deep breath—long and heavy. She stared at the picture of Hero and his friends in Faraway Park back before Mari had passed away—back before they were jaded, broken, before they had to learn how to be happy again. “Do you think she’d be happy for us?”

Hero’s chest ached, but a bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He thought about the last time he had visited Mari. He had gone alone—stopped there after he had picked up his grandma’s engagement ring from the bank. He had wanted to know the same thing. It felt strange to look for that reassurance—to look for some kind of sign when he knew Mari couldn’t really answer him. But Mari had found a way. When he had told her about his plans—asked if she would be okay with that, there was strong gust of wind. It blew a twig off a nearby tree that hit him in the head. He had laughed. As if Mari was trying to tell him what a silly question that was—especially when he already knew the answer.

He hugged Zoey again—glancing off over her shoulder out the window where the sun was peeking through the clouds even despite the rain. As a certain warmth spread through his chest, he blinked the mist out of his eyes and whispered, “I know she would be.”

#hero omori #omori hero #when sun shines again ⛅#omori oc #omori oc: zoey #hero/oc #hero x oc #hero fic #hero fanart #omori fanart #our content #omori spoilers

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thewertsearch · 2 years

Text

FCG: HONESTLY THE LAST FEW WEEKS HAVE BEEN A BLUR TO ME, JUST NON STOP YELLING AT MYSELF, HAGGLING WITH PAST AND FUTURE KNUCKLEHEADS, KILLING MONSTERS AND SOLVING PUZZLES, CYCLING THROUGH ALL THE GATES AND PLANETS LIKE A HUNDRED TIMES, ZIGZAGGING DOWN TO THE BATTLEFIELD, OUT TO THE VEIL, OVER TO PROSPIT, BACK TO DERSE, AND ON AND ON AND ON LIKE THAT UNTIL WE THOUGHT WE WON.

Seems like a typical session is pretty hectic. Karkat even spent time on Derse, which I didn’t expect, but maybe he needed to help awaken some Dream Selves.

I’d love to get a proper look at the ‘standard’ Sburb campaign. Hivebent can’t last forever, so we’re inevitably getting an abridged version.

CGA: It Seems Like A Logical Way To Engineer A System Wherein One Simultaneously Functions As The Reader And Author Of The Transcripts CGA: Its Temporally Sound Construction

Karkat’s about to invent Project Trolling - but Kanaya, not to be outdone, is about to invent ConversationWithAVeryStupidGirl.Txt.

FCG: HELL YOU PROBABLY WOULD HAVE BEEN A BETTER MAID OF TIME THAN THE ONE WE WERE STUCK WITH. [...] CGA: I Think We Are Given Roles To Challenge Us CGA: That Dont Necessarily Suit Our Strengths

As far as I can tell, Titles aren’t universally suited to their bearers - but neither are they universally unsuited. Kanaya’s having trouble settling into her role as the team’s Sylph - but Terezi’s a born Seer of Mind, and was acting as such, long before the session began.

Kanaya calls the Titles challenging, but you can be challenged by a role you’re perfectly suited to. Rose’s inquisitive personality makes her a good fit for a Seer, but ‘seeing’ what went wrong with her session is still a huge, ongoing challenge for her.

FCG: SO WHAT PROMPTED YOU TO RESPOND ANYWAY. [...] CGA: Its Such A Silly Question FCG: RED OR BLACK?

lmao, Karkat’s been fielding questions like this since the session began. He knows what the fuck is up.

Plus, he’s from weeks in Kanaya’s future, so he probably knows exactly what she’s talking about.

FCG: I DON'T THINK ANYONE'S READING. FCG: DID YOU NOTICE ANYONE ELSE JOIN IN LATER? CGA: No CGA: It Appeared To Be Just The Two Of Us FCG: SEE FCG: NOBODY CARES ENOUGH TO BOTHER. CGA: I Dont Know Whether Thats Reassuring CGA: Or Just A Bit Disheartening FCG: WELL I DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT. FCG: THEIR DISINTEREST IS MORE A REFLECTION ON ME THAN YOU.

Karkat isn’t performing anger, here. He’s genuinely angry at his situation, but he’s not making it Kanaya’s problem - which I think says a lot about the strength of their friendship.

As a result, I think this is most authentic Karkat has ever been. He’s still grumpy in this conversation, because that’s just his nature, but he’s also thoughtful, introspective and empathetic. Alternia probably doesn’t value these traits, so he’s not really encouraged to display them, unless he’s giving quadrant advice - or unless the troll he’s talking to is as weird as he is.

Kanaya isn’t above a little trolling - she can certainly return fire - but she doesn’t antagonize people just for kicks. Karkat, recognizing a kindred spirit, affords her the same rare courtesy.

CGA: Shes Not Even Responding To My Messages Anymore CGA: Could Be Busy CGA: But Im Rapidly Approaching A Resolution To Discard The Preposterous Infatuation

You’re too good for Vriska, who I assume you’re still hung up on. Discard her!

CGA: How About CGA: If I Agree To Consult With You About It In Private CGA: We Can Drop It Here CGA: Before You Crack Me Like A Vault CGA: With Your Weird Romance Sleuthing Acumen FCG: ALRIGHT, DEAL.

What the hell, Kanaya! Stop bonding over romantic advice, and start teaching yourselves to hate trolling each other!

You’re an angry and violent race! Act like it, for Empire’s sake!

FCG: OVER THE COURSE OF THIS ADVENTURE, AT TIMES I ACTUALLY BEGAN TO SUSPECT I WAS MY OWN KISMESIS. FCG: HOW FUCKED UP IS THAT???

Mildly, but I understand why you’d reach that conclusion.

The quadrants prime you to treat all negative emotions as potential blackrom - and, thanks to time travel, you’re capable of interacting with yourself as if you’re a different troll, whom you happen to hate.

CGA: And What Of Scarlet Ambitions CGA: Fare Any Better In That Quadrant FCG: NO NO NO I'M NOT AIRING THAT SHIT OUT HERE. FCG: MAYBE PRIVATELY. FCG: IT'S PRIVATE.

I can only assume he’s talking about Terezi - but I really thought he was seeing a black romance with her. Maybe he’s undecided.

#2567 #homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5 #s47

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wellbelesbian · 11 months

Text

Shoulder To Shoulder, Hand To Hand

“Hey, can we talk?” Trixie asks me as we set off home, sliding into the seat in front of me and sitting backwards to face me, joined by Penny.

“Uh, sure.” I say, trying to push down the feeling that I’m somehow in trouble.

read chapter ten on ao3!

chapter ten already! it feels surreal that this fic has gotten so long, but i'm enjoying writing it so much! i think i'll miss it, once it's over... but onwards to NaNoWriMo, i guess!

anyway, i haven't done a wip wednesday today, but thanks for tagging me @j-nipper-95 @larkral and @forabeatofadrum! i'll just tag some hellos and post about my week under the cut to make up for not writing anything recently:

first up, look at this big boy i got! it is SO HEAVY.

i actually got to see Edith Hall (and Jennifer Saint, but Edith is my classics crush (along with Natalie Haynes) (she also taught my sixth form teacher!)) at a talk this weekend, and she spoke about her connection to working class history in the area and suggested the book. it's the perfect combination of my interests, i almost vibrated out of my seat and my friend noted down the title for me without me even having to ask 😂

it's completely free online on places like kindle, google books and kobo, (which is good since hardback covers are like £130, and paperbacks like this are still fairly pricey. i got this secondhand at an absolute bargain of £13) and there's a very abridged version in this article she wrote if you just want some anecdotes. but yeah, i'm very excited to get into this.

and here are some lovely miners banners (hello, durham area 👀) that ally the miners with Roman soldiers. basically, a lot of miners would find Roman artifacts while digging and felt a kinship with the common footsoldiers of the Roman army, who did a lot of similarly thankless labour like building roads and, oh you know, Hadrian's Wall.

second of all, my sister is due her baby any day now! i'm gonna be an auntie! she was due last sunday, and is getting induced on saturday if she still hasn't had him by then, so if i don't post on sunday, now you know why.

tags/hellos: @ileadacharmedlife @prettygoododds @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @imagineacoolusername @confused-bi-queer @ic3-que3n @forabeatofadrum @bazzybelle @theearlgreymage @aristocratic-otter @larkral @hushed-chorus @martsonmars @ivelovedhimthroughworse @blackberrysummerblog @fatalfangirl @ebbpettier @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @cutestkilla @youarenevertooold @alleycat0306 @artsyunderstudy @alexalexinii @shemakesmeforget @shrekgogurt and @j-nipper-95

#my fics #carry on through the ages #cotta 2023 #wip wednesday

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merryfortune · 22 hours

Text

Head ✖ Heart ✖ Hands

Written for the 5th Vrains Finale Anniversary + the Rarest of Rare Pairs Fic-a-Thon

Prompt: Any, Any/Any/Any, heart + brain + hands

Title: Head ✖ Heart ✖ Hands

Ship: Saviorshipping | Ryoken/Spectre/Yusaku

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS

Rating: T

Warning: None

Word Count: 4,580

Tags: Eventual Polyamory, Canon Retelling, Canonical Character Death, Missing Scene

“So what are the other victims like?” Takeru asked. “Do you know?”

It was an understandable question. Yusaku had wondered that himself after all.

“Aside from you, I’ve met two others.” Yusaku replied.

“I see. I bet one’s Kusanagi’s little brother, yeah?” Takeru guessed.

“Yeah. I met Jin briefly. Kusanagi took me to the facility where he lives and gets help. He’s a little shy but I can tell he’s a gentle soul underneath it all. We didn’t talk much but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. I didn’t say anything but I think he knew instinctively who I was - or Kusanagi told him advance but not me. Who knows.” Yusaku said. “I remember a nurse walked by and dropped a pen, he was straight up to pick it up for her and she remarked that was something he did all the time, that he loves to be helpful.”

“Ah. Neat.” Takeru replied.

“But um… I have met one other victim.” Yusaku replied.

It was here that he started to get cold feet as he saw flashes of Spectre’s face on the back of his eyelids when he blinked. His face was twisted and gruesome in his vile happiness. Yusaku’s stomach knotted and he licked his lips. His pause made Takeru glance his way and Yusaku finally piped up.

“I don’t know his real name for sure but I duelled him.” Yusaku said. “He goes by Spectre. I imagine that he goes by it offline but I have no idea. I’ve never met him face to face like this, only in the VRAINS.”

“Spectre?” Takeru shuddered. “What a creepy name. What’s he like?”

“Insane.” Yusaku blurted out without thinking.

Takeru laughed.

“He, uh, he’s a bit different to you and I, or even Jin. He’s not someone I thought could exist but he very much does. I think he lives here in Den City but I’m not sure.” Yusaku replied. “He plays a deck called Sunavalon, it’s a protect the castle style strategy which collapses if you can neutralise his centrepiece monsters, of which he has four. They’re all evolutions of each other, the same tree growing bigger and bigger.”

“And stronger and stronger?” Takeru rolled his eyes.

“Not really.” Yusaku replied. “Most his Monsters have zero attack, including his aces. His main beater can get up to four thousand but starts on the board with eight hundred.” He recalled.

“I see. So why’d you duel him?” Takeru asked. “You don’t look like you duel for fun. I sure as hell don’t.”

“Oh, I forgot. I got caught up in his… everything else. He’s the second-in-command of the Knights of Hanoi.” Yusaku replied. “I also believe he’s legally dead?”

“What?!” Takeru exclaimed. “Start with that first, not the intricacies of his deck.”

“Sorry! It's important!” Yusaku sputtered back. He sighed and twisted around in his office chair. He did some typing on his keyboard and got an obituary up. He had it in his favourites for a reason so it wasn’t too hard to find. He stared at it as he folded his arms. “He’s an orphan and, um, has some out of the ordinary beliefs about family. That’s why I got caught up in his deck, it’s his way of, like, playing dolls but with family members.”

“He sounds like a freak.” Takeru said and he got off Yusaku’s bed and came closer.

Yusaku chuckled darkly, “Oh, you have no idea. I’m giving you the abridged version. Anyways come look at this.”

Yusaku indicated his computer’s screen and Takeru began reading off it. He muttered each word under his breath as he read the obituary of a little boy whose body had never been found.

“After the Incident, he didn’t have anywhere else to go. His one safe space was taken from him, he didn’t feel at home at the Orphanage and so, he walked himself straight back to where he was originally taken from: the place where the Incident was held. There, the Knights of Hanoi’s leader found him and took him in.”

“What the fuck?” Takeru exclaimed. “And you think this is him?”

“Location, story, and even appearance lines up.” Yusaku shrugged. “If I’m wrong, I’m wrong. That's why I'm not saying anything definitive. Anyways, the last thing you need to know about Spectre is… He enjoyed the Incident.”

Takeru paused, or more accurately: short-circuited. “Pardon? Come again?”

“Yeah…” Yusaku shrugged. “He said he enjoyed the Incident and based on how he duels, I don’t think he was lying. He also duelled Aoi and I asked about him from here but she clammed up on anything useful but carried on about other things. Called him all sorts of names under the sun, he humiliated her from the sounds of things. Lied, manipulated but conversely, with me, he was very honest.”

He stopped himself there, from calling Spectre a kindred spirit and hence the honesty in their duel together and he was glad because Takeru’s face twisted. He turned scared and underneath that, he turned angry.

“What the fuck. I hope I never meet him.” Takeru snarled.

Yusaku didn’t have anything to say to that. He was quiet but oddly cut. He didn’t know why but he felt protective of Spectre. He shouldn't have been. He understood that visceral gut disgust well but he was still one of them and that had to count for something. Even if he was nothing like Jin or Takeru or himself, he was still another victim of the Incident and that was enough to stir Yusaku’s defensive nature.

But Takeru was free to feel however he wanted about Spectre based on the information about him that Yusaku had provided. It wasn’t enough for a full picture. Yusaku would know.

In between now and having stopped the destruction of the Tower of Hanoi, Yusaku might have gone digging in rabbit holes. How could he not? They were a tiny cohort of six yet they didn't know each other. Besides, Spectre had given him enough to try and do some looking after all. Assuming he was telling the truth and based on what Yusaku had found, he was willing to give Spectre the benefit of the doubt that he was despite the unsavoury nature he displayed.

With enough searching, Yusaku had found a ten year old obituary for an orphaned six year old boy in the area who had gone missing for a stint before he was ultimately declared deceased. But it was the photo which drove the nail into the coffin for Yusaku. The resemblance between the Spectre he met in the Link VRAINS and the grainy photo of this boy was striking. No wonder Spectre felt no need to hide his identity under a mask or an avatar like his comrades, he didn’t need to when his identity was already cremated for him.

So with this article found, Yusaku decided it would be handy to keep in a shortcut and even made a copy of it for himself should the website go down. Clearly that was a good decision now that he could bring Spectre up with someone but that someone didn’t seem to get it.

Though what that “it” was, Yusaku wasn’t sure yet. Kindred spirits. For that guy? The thought of it nauseated Yusaku. Spectre was a freak. He was a creep. It wasn’t just some slip of the tongue that Yusaku had called him insane at the first prompt. But he couldn’t deny: when he pored over his memories of that fight, there was some kind of connection between them. Warped and distorted as it was.

Yusaku’s internal monologue on the subject that was the anomaly of Spectre ended when Ai and Flame returned from the Link VRAINS. They popped up and out of the computer with no news of the other Ignis and their whereabouts. Whatever was stirring on the horizon, with the kidnapping of Jin, was going to have to arrive at its own time as information was thin.

Brick by brick, thread by thread, they did learn more and more about what machinations were on-going and at odds with one another. Though what stuck out in Yusaku’s mind was Earth.

Earth was a good fellow, Yusaku thought. He had his heart in the right place, not all of the Ignis had that, after all.

As such, it hurt to think about what had happened to him. He didn’t deserve any of that. He also confused Yusaku in that he was uncertain how he ended up inside of Bohman. Maybe it was a result of the Neuron Network, maybe there was an unknown weakness in the SOL Tech’s security. It didn’t really matter because the outcome was the same. It's not like Yusaku could go back in time and save him from that.

Earth had been dissected - and desecrated - by humankind. A fate which would have sealed any possible affection for humans though having Spectre as an Origin likely wouldn’t have helped either. His will only bent one way over the other due to his protective nature becoming inflamed by injustice unto Aqua.

Still, the Earth-Spectre connection played on his mind. He had seen it as soon as he saw it. The way Earth turned a fallen log into his glorified podium confirmed it in an instant in Yusaku’s mind. Then seeing Earth’s duel, it was akin to a portal into a more beautiful world where duelling could be fun. For that, Yusaku had to pay his dues to Earth but it did make him ponder what if…

Would Earth’s sense of justice turned the other way like a weather vane had he met Spectre? Or would that have happened to Spectre. Would he have jumped ship if it meant that his Ignis could have lived a little longer, a little more peacefully. It was hard to say.

Especially since the snarl in Spectre’s voice stuck in his head. During his duel with Lightning, he mentioned Earth exactly once. His allegiances were clear, firmly in the grasp of the Knights of Hanoi, yet there was still that vulnerability, that gap in his armour so easily overlooked. It seemed that Ai hadn’t heard - or elected to hear - what Spectre had to say about Earth.

Yusaku couldn’t fault him for that, of course. For a while, Yusaku had disdain for Spectre. Hatred. Even jealousy. Part of it stemmed from the poor impression that Spectre left of him, of course, but another part of it was…

Ten whole years.

Yusaku had searched for Ryoken for ten whole years. Spectre just happened to be at the right place at the right time - though describing it as such for Yusaku disgusted him. That place, those white rooms of torture, were very much not the right place and not the right time for him. So, he felt as though he were a shackle for Ryoken. A reason he couldn’t move forward, into the light, into a more normal life.

Eventually, however, it dawned on Yusaku that what right did he have to tear Spectre out of the picture?

All because he wanted to monopolise Ryoken, that was selfish of him. He had built up such a fairy tale over the years, of what Ryoken’s circumstances looked like to him and that discoloured his perception of what was already in front of him as possibility. He saw now that that belittled his other connections. All of them, even the ones that he had tried to keep at arm’s length at first, like with Kusanagi.

It had even been rude of him to push Kusanagi away. Kusanagi was his first, real ally. In the flesh and online. To think of how he treated Shoichi, Yusaku wasn’t proud of that and so, he saw a parallel in discounting Spectre’s loyalty to Ryoken. He must have some good qualities if Ryoken was going to keep him around.

That’s why he started digging in Spectre’s past in the first place. He wanted to see at least a little bit of what Ryoken saw in him. Maybe that would bring him closer to Ryoken, too, if he could figure out some way towards peace that placated every side. The Knights, the Ignis, his own.

First chance he got, Yusaku vowed that he would try to make more moves towards mediation. Towards getting to know the real Spectre. Not just the one that he had met in the duel in the shadow of the Tower of Hanoi but in other ways. Like the possibility of if the Ignis could come back.

Ai had twice after all. Maybe he could pull off the hat trick and bring them all back but it didn’t seem like he had much left in his engine.

Ai’s depression was getting worrisome. Understandable, though. He had lost his family, his fellow Ignis. Yusaku couldn’t begin to fathom what that despair must be like as the Incident had burned away his memories in his mind so if he had anything like that, he didn’t remember. The best he could do was be sympathetic and let Ai mourn in the way that he saw fit which was, just like his Origin in this manner, isolation. So, Yusaku gave him space even though there was a whisper at the back of his mind telling him that was a bad idea.

In the meantime, Yusaku scraped by on what he could. He supported Takeru through his grief, too, regarding Flame, even Aoi with Aqua. Though in the back of his mind, he thought of Spectre, too. Jin and Windy’s Origin were more nebulous due to them possibly being better off without their Ignis but Yusaku wasn’t certain he wanted to subscribe to that. The idea of Lightning and Windy being fully beyond redemption wounded him but until their Origins were in a better state of mind, Yusaku figured he better not touch those ideas. It was too soon. Now was a time of licking wounds.

That was a lot to put on his own plate, though, but Yusaku was a glutton for punishment in rain or shine. Especially when he finally got that opportunity to touch base with the Knights of Hanoi again in the flesh.

It was the middle of the afternoon - all azure skies and fluffy white clouds - when his favourite customer came to visit them at Cafe Nagi.

Ryoken came down the bend. Alone. Like usual. But Yusaku watched with eyes which burned with inquisitiveness. The lunch rush had been about twenty minutes ago and he knew Ryoken’s order like the back of his hand - surprising him yet, not at all. It miffed him just enough to change something up, he would have tomato sauce on his fries this time, too, not plain. He had to at least feel like he had an edge of unpredictability.

Once his food was cooked, it was all business underneath the greasy smell of it.

“Where’s Spectre?” Yusaku asked. “Is he okay?”

Ryoken was taken aback by Yusaku’s question as he reached up to accept his bag of fast food.

“He only eats rabbit food.” Ryoken said. “But, he’s doing fine. Why do you ask?” His brow furrowed as his acceptance of his food turned into a rude and standoffish snatch.

“Just curious.” Yusaku shrugged. He didn’t seem offended by Ryoken’s gesture, though.

“You are never “just” curious, Playmaker. You and I both know that. What’s the angle?” Ryoken asked.

Yusaku pouted. “I really am just curious.” he insisted. “He’s another victim of the Incident, he suffered quite the loss to Lightning and, well, with Earth. I can’t help but wonder.”

Ryoken sighed and pointed to his head. His tattoo glinted in the sunshine. It always had an unusual sheen to it, like it was less ink and more silicon. “He doesn’t think like us normal people.” Ryoken said. “So don’t worry about him. He’s resilient, he bounces back and with a smile.”

“Yeah…” Yusaku chewed on his reply. His stomach turned.

Ryoken’s demeanour softened. “I appreciate that you are concerned.”

Yusaku’s eyes widened.

“Aside from myself and the Lieutenants, it is fair to say no one else in this world cares about him.” Ryoken professed. “So, thank you. I’m not surprised though, I figured you would eventually realise that you and him are a lot alike.”

“What, no?” Yusaku argued. “I’m nothing at all like him.”

“I know you are capable of better lies, Yusaku.” Ryoken chided him, even wagging a finger at him. “Well, I’m sure with your other talents, you can track down information on him from before his “happy times” - unless you already have and have hit the inevitable brick wall.”

“Well judged.” Yusaku praised him.

Ryoken gathered up his food under his arm and made it obvious in his body language, he wanted to go. His hot dog and fries were getting cold. Yusaku felt a lump in his throat.

“I’d like to see him more often, if possible.” Yusaku said. “I want to test your judgement of character in person.”

“You can make it sound less stilted, you know.” Ryoken said. “We can be friends. We can be…”

More.

His voice trailed off.

They both knew how deep Yusaku’s feelings ran for Ryoken - and he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. Spectre, too, of course. Yusaku still had to scrub his hands anytime Spectre’s voice rattled off his line about Ryoken being his “one true master” but whether or not it was disgust, jealousy, or arousal remained to be seen. Hence Ryoken’s courteous silence. His way of demonstrating that his head was caught between two blades of swords, that of Decode Talker and that of Sunvine Thrasher.

See? More alike than they would admit.

“Well,” Ryoken said, licking his lips and already tasting salt, “he already likes you quite a bit. I’m sure if he knew you were asking about him, he would be flattered. If not, I’ll drag him by the ear to satisfy you.”

“Thank you.” Yusaku replied.

Though, he had a suspicion that he was not going to know when. He was fine with that, however. He would wait for whenever the ghost was ready to haunt him. He wasn’t superstitious like Takeru but there were probably rules about that.

Yusaku nodded his head and farewelled Ryoken. Ryoken waved him off.

And that was that. At least for a little while.

That little wasn’t entirely inaccurate. Yusaku saw glimpses of Spectre here and there as disastrous things continued to happen around him. Ai put Spectre through the wringer but alongside his comrades, not his assignment to accompany Ghost Girl and Blood Shepherd. His abandonment of his post stuck out in Yusaku’s mind as oddly honourable for someone as lily-livered as Spectre.

It was a hell of a lot more courageous than what Yusaku would pull in the aftermath of his duel with Ai, anyway.

Three. Whole. Months. That’s how long he ran away to be all by himself in his own maddening grief. He couldn’t go on without the partner that he had in Ai. He couldn’t let go. He was running on fumes and he came out worse for wear but it was worth it in the end. Every minute, hour, and day that he dedicated to hunting down proof that the internet was forever, it was absolutely worth it in the end and as a result…

A new gale blew.

One which was felt by everyone connected to him, near or far. Whether it was Brave Max or Soulburner, Aoi and Kusanagi, or even Revolver and Spectre, it seemed. His life had touched others. Even though he never wound up feeling like a hero, like someone was worth the time of day inside or outside the Link VRAINS despite how he protected it time and time again.

Still, he was starting to look into that zephyr and see what others saw in him. He was accepted back into his old life with open arms but it wasn’t just his old life. It was a new start. Some of it was bad as he had to restart his grade at high school and he had to find new accommodation but everything else was a new opportunity to start anew. To grasp his connections and never let go this time.

Shortly after this miraculous return, it didn’t take long before his path crossed with the people he had wanted to see most in the flesh. It was all too familiar of a scene. He was flipping frankfurters on a grill, thinking about algebra homework and listening to Kusanagi sing along to the radio after his breath when he looked up and saw a certain pair of people.

Yusaku’s heart genuinely seized when he saw two figures walk out of the sunset, from down the hill, and into the shade so they came into view. Ryoken… and Spectre. Just like he asked. He ripped his apron off and Kusanagi let him have the early mark. It had been slow this afternoon and it was a random Wednesday in the middle of the month, it was highly unlikely that there was going to be a dinner rush.

Yusaku linked up with them both and Ryoken laughed at his puppyish demeanour. Spectre rolled his eyes but all three of them found a place down along the fencing over the cliffside where they could see the ocean. The sun was slowly being eaten up by it, it was hard to see but easier than facing each other.

After all, they really ought to be at odds with one another rather than co-existing factions teamed-up towards mutual goals. Yusaku was still Playmaker, underneath his skin and in his head, and they were still the leader and second-in-command of the Knights of Hanoi respectively. That made them enemies but Yusaku had olive branches on his mind.

“You are an elusive man, Spectre.” Yusaku commented to break the ice.

“Am I now?” Spectre airily replied. “The same could be said about you.”

Ryoken snickered. True on both counts, as far as he was concerned but he knew they would both bow to him if refereed but until that was necessary, he tried to keep his opinions to himself. He rested himself against the fence, laced his hands over it and he made some effort to hide the insignia on his right hand.

“So. Here we are.” Yusaku continued.

“Three assholes in a public place.” Ryoken piped up.

Spectre glared at Ryoken for that one but chose to ignore it, “I’m a very busy person, Yusaku, I imagine there’s something you want to discuss.” He turned around to face away from the sunset and into the park. Figures.

“I guess there is something.” Yusaku supposed. “As I’m sure you are both aware, I’m back and as is Ai.”

“Yes, we are well aware.” Ryoken said.

“That means I have a long list of five other Ignis I would like to search for and bring back. Is that okay?” Yusaku said.

“I imagine you would go ahead with this plan of yours regardless of if you had our blessing or not.” Ryoken sighed harshly.

“True.” Yusaku replied.

He checked on Spectre out of the corner of his eye. He looked… afraid. Afraid to be hopeful, that is. His expression was caught off-guard, in between worlds, duties, emotions. Vulnerable, actually. That probably encapsulated everything and how he was getting so caught on his words, he couldn’t speak. Instead, he merely parted his lips and met Yusaku’s eyes in the periphery.

“I would like to start with Earth. Or maybe Aqua. I think it’s a travesty that they never got to meet their Origins face-to-face.” Yusaku said and gently added, “I think Earth is a lot like you, you know.”

“I see.” Spectre said.

“Don’t be guarded. You can say thank you, I don’t mind.” Ryoken corrected him. “We, the Knights of Hanoi, are turning over a new leaf, you, of all people, should know that best.”

“Ah. Okay.” Spectre said, a little surprised, “thank you, Yusaku. Thank you, too, Ryoken-sama.”

Ryoken reached out and he touched Spectre’s shoulder. He gave it a rub, the feeling of his hand sinking into the fabric of Spectre’s blazer grounded him. He smiled a small smile.

Yusaku, meanwhile, began to think aloud, “You saw Earth’s duel against Onizuka, correct? Then you saw his playstyle, how it centres on protecting his G-Golem Crystal Heart, an avatar of the one most precious to him. It reminds me of yours but even his other habits. He saw personhood in a fallen log, for example.”

“Mm,” Spectre agreed heavily, “when he passed away, it felt as though I had a hole in my heart. I don’t think bringing him back would necessarily mend it but it couldn’t hurt.”

“Agreed.” Yusaku said. “Having Ai back doesn’t fix everything for me but having him back has made me more courageous. When I lost him, I lost everything again. I isolated, I ran away, I became like a child again but with him back, it inspired me to reach out. Including you.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I would say you were trying to seduce me right now.” Spectre teased.

Ryoken grunted and made a half-hearted gesture with his hand.

Spectre turned his head and gave him a funny look.

“Yusaku has good memory. He’s not about to forget that it’s obvious to him how we both feel about each other.” Ryoken pointed out. “And don’t you feel the same way?”

Spectre sputtered, getting nowhere fast but it’s not like this was being sprung on him out of the blue. He had proudly proclaimed, after all, to have watched Revolver and Playmaker’s final duel which resulted in the neutralisation of the Tower of Hanoi over a hundred times.

“You were the first member of the Incident’s child cohort that I met. You made quite the impact on me and I learned from it. You made me think about things I didn’t think were possible.” Yusaku said. “Ryoken is my three reasons why, my reason for going and to search for the truth. He means a lot to me and he means a lot to you. We have that in common at the very least.”

“Heh.” Spectre laughed through gritted teeth. “I must admit. Though I thought you were a weirdo at first-”

Yusaku guffawed. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.

“But you are a charming weirdo.” Spectre finished his sentence. He sounded like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

Yusaku huffed and Ryoken made an amused noise. Ryoken, for one, could get used to it. Even if his responsibility just doubled. There were bound to be teething issues, they were still getting to know one another in this kind of way.

So, Yusaku settled and let his hackles lower. He bit his tongue as he contended with the realisation that that was just Spectre’s humour and way of riling him up for entertainment. He was probably going to have to get used to that if he was going to make this work.

Admittedly, he didn’t know what “it” was. Look at them, they weren’t exactly touchy-feely or overly grandiose with explaining and sharing elaborate emotions. He liked how Ryoken put it. They really were three assholes in a public place but it was more than just that. It was connection. It was… to love people. Thus, it settled in his mind, in Ryoken’s hands, and even in Spectre's heart.

#saviorshipping #yugioh vrains #vrains #yugioh #fujiki yusaku #kogami ryoken #spectre (vrains)#writing tag #Head ✖ Heart ✖ Hands #rarest of rare pairs ficathon

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thenightling · 11 months

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What is The Witcher: Sirens of the Deep? First: What is The Witcher? Very abridged version: A Witcher is a male witch trained from childhood to be a monster hunter. In this particular franchise the witcher we meet is Geralt of Rivia, also known as The White Wolf because he has had distinctive white hair since childhood and yellow wolf-like eyes. Also he wears a silver medallion of a wolf's head sigil, that vibrates in the presence of monsters. Geralt ultimately adopts an orphaned princess named Ciri. And Geralt, along with his sorceress lover, (Yennefer) and his friend, the flamboyant bard, (Jaskier: pronounced Yas-key-er) raise the young princess, who eventually becomes a monster hunter, herself, suggesting that "The Witcher" of the title was actually her, all along, and not Geralt. The Witcher: Sirens of the deep is one of Geralt's adventures that has been told in short story form and was also told through song in season 3 of The Witcher (the song "A Little Sacrifice"). In late 2024 Netflix plans to release an animated retelling of the story, which apparently is set during the time of season 1 of The Witcher live-action Netflix series (I'm basing that on Jaskier's clothes and haircut since Geralt doesn't really change from season to season as he doesn't age as humans do but Jaskier's look changes from season to season). This means it is set before Geralt adopts Ciri. In this new animated version of the story it appears that Geralt is called upon because of political unrest between a coastal human kingdom on The Continent (the fantasy setting of The Witcher stories, which resembles medieval Europe) and a kingdom of sirens (mer-people who have hypnotic voices that lure humans to their deaths). The Prince of the kingdom has fallen in love with a siren and now either she or the prince has to give up their home to be with the other. She either becomes human, or he becomes a siren. In an inversion of The Little Mermaid, the prince ultimately chooses to become a siren and gives up walking on land forever to be with her. There is a subplot with Jaskier and a rival female bard, who may or may not become a romantic interest for him. (Remember, there are deviations from the books so don't expect this to exactly match the original short story).

The Witcher: Sirens of the Deep teaser trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y7ZgJCl62sA

Despite the familiar fairytale-like story, The Witcher, is NOT intended for children, even in the animated movies. There is violence and swearing and sometimes nudity. Do not expect a kid-friendly fairytale. I actually hope we get to hear Jaskier singing "A Little Sacrifice" confirming an idea I had that he was the one who taught Ciri the song. Ciri is who sings it in season 3 of The Witcher (live action series). https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B9mqmyP77c4 Imagine if that had been Ciri's lullaby sung to her by Jaskier. Doug Cockle will voice Geralt of Rivia instead of Henry Cavill (The Witcher seasons 1 through 3), or Liam Hemsworth (The Witcher, season 4). Doug Cockle has previously voiced Geralt of Rivia for The Witcher video games. It has been confirmed that Joey Batey will be voicing Jaskier in The Witcher: Sirens of the Deep which suggests he will sing since Joey Batey has an excellent voice and he usually sings at least two songs for every season of The Witcher, and even had a song in The Witcher prequel series, The Witcher: Blood Origin.

#The Witcher #Sirens of the Deep

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jacquelinemerritt · 1 year

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Dragon Ball Z: Abridged Episode 51 Review

Originally posted August 5th, 2016

The actual “Perfect Guy” is the one who does the most good.

It is this episode wherein Cell finally transforms into Perfect Cell, his ultimate form and a true force for our heroes to reckon with, and as such, the title of the episode “The ‘Perfect’ Guy” would seem to be referring to his transformation.

It’s not.

Cell is every bit as much of a despicable villain in this episode as he has been for the entire season, and his transformation changes nothing about his personality, as the “perfect” version of Cell introduces himself no differently than his imperfect self: with a rousing musical number. No, the titular “perfect guy” in this episode is Krillin, and the entire episode is devoted to exploring how genuinely good of a person he is, even compared to our other heroes.

This exploration wouldn’t work without the many points at which they’ve setup Krillin’s character for this moment of strength across the season, either. Tien and Bulma laugh off Krillin’s decision to risk everything to protect Android 18 as a desperate ploy to get laid, but it’s already been established that Krillin isn’t attracted to 18 for superficial reasons; he loves her confidence and personality, and even when prodded by Master Roshi to objectify her, he refuses. There’s even a sad irony to his efforts here given his relationship with Maron at the beginning of season 3, as his efforts to do the right thing end up similarly disastrous for him here as they did then.

The focus of the episode doesn’t rest on Krillin alone, though. 18 herself is given time to shine on her own as she affirms her commitment to Android 16 and uses her last moment to tell her “compadre” to watch out for Krillin, as she knows that he’ll need protection from a fully powered Cell.

Within the episode’s story of Krillin and 18, there is but only one real flaw, and that is the decision to have both times Krillin stands in between Cell and 18 be added to the “Krillin Owned” count, which goes directly against the empathy the story is trying to build for Krillin (in addition to being cold and unfunny). The empathy that the continuation of that gag costs us is not worth the value of keeping the gag “consistent.”

Perhaps most interesting about “The ‘Perfect’ Guy” is how stark the contrast between Krillin’s story is with the story of any of the other characters. Piccolo, Tien, and Bulma all sit on the lookout placing bets on which one of their allies are going to screw up first, with both Piccolo and Bulma betting on Krillin. Even Tien refuses to defend Krillin when he finds out that he decided to save Android 18, deriding his decision as one made to simply get some “cyber-sex.”

They distance themselves from their own friend in this moment, and while they are right to be concerned about the fate of the world, the purpose of Krillin’s story seems to be to remind us of the high importance of a single person as well.

Rating: 5/5

If you enjoyed this review, consider supporting me on Patreon.

Stray Observations

Vegeta’s story, on the other hand, seems to be contrasting the extreme selfishness of Vegeta with the selflessness of Krillin, as Vegeta risks the entire world just so that he can have a challenging fight, where Krillin risks the world to save someone who means something to him.

This episode also opens with a rewrite of “Giant Woman” from Steven Universe, one of my favorite shows, and Goku’s plea of fatherly understanding and pride seems comparable to both the value Krillin places on another person, and Vegeta’s first time experience of being proud of someone other than himself.

I’m thinking about moving away from including my favorite quotes down here unless they’re really exceptional. Mostly because jotting down clever lines while I’m watching breaks the experience in ways I’m not too fond of.

#dragon ball z abridged #dragon ball z #team four star #tfs #dbz #dbza #dbza ep51

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cjbolan · 2 years

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Facepalming so hard now, at all the parents hating Emily Windsnap for the title character disobeying her mom. Same crowd who complained about Turning Red, for the same reason. Those stories would be incredibly boring if the characters were perfect kids who never disobeyed anyone. Also your kids can enjoy these stories without copying them, if you just…you know…TEACH THEM to not copy everything they read/see in a make-believe story. And kids are impressionable, so you’re gonna have to teach them over and over again. Many parents these days are either too busy or too lazy to do that.

Too many parents want children’s stories to be like Disney’s Pinocchio. They want children’s stories to directly tell children what to do, not teach children right from wrong making children have to think. Parents just don’t want their children to think.

My experience working with kids, and watching ABC’s Parent Test , has shown me just how overprotective parents have become.

( Granted there are slightly more legit concerns about kids copying Emily sneaking out into the ocean at night. Especially in the abridged version for ages 4-7. )

#Emily Windsnap #rant #middle grade series #middle grade books #middle grade fiction #childrens book #the parent test #abc #Disney #Pixar #turning red #disney turning red #pixar turning red

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shadowsong26fic · 1 year

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Papa and J-----, 28 August ‘34

Author: shadowsong26

Rating: PG/PG-13

Fandom: Les Misérables

Characters: Technically all on-page characters are OCs; Valjean, Cosette, Marius, and Javert are discussed as historical personalities. Backstory Cosette/Marius and heavily implied Valjean/Javert.

Warnings: Nothing specific, I don’t think?

Summary: Euphrasie Pontmercy--known in the art world as La Jardinière--isn’t exactly a household name. Still, the sheer length of her active career (her work was first displayed and sold in 1839, and she left one last work unfinished at her death in 1910) makes her interesting to people who actually study that century in art. But as far as the historical record is concerned, Jardinière seems to have sprung semi-fully-formed from the streets of Paris somewhere in the mid-to-late 1820s. Other than the fact that she was educated in a convent, essentially nothing is known about her parents or her childhood.

Until now.

Or:

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a PhD student with no thesis topic must be in want of an undiscovered painting to go absolutely feral over.

Disclaimer: All characters are the property of their respective creators.

Notes: So, this story came out of a midnight/one am rambling conversation with my roommate @tigerkat24. And then we realized it was interesting enough to be worth, like, polishing up and turning into an Actual Thing (translation: tigerkat dared me to actually write it and I was like ‘you know I really could’), so here we are. As the title implies, this is an AU timeline--short version, Javert didn’t die; he went to talk to Valjean some time later, and then just sort of…never left; Valjean also successfully failed to pine away in 1833. All other relevant AU details should be included within the text of the fic, which is set in a vague Present Day. My knowledge is primarily of the musical, though I have drawn in a few details from what I remember of reading (an abridged version of) the novel years ago; tigerkat just read it and has also provided some additional notes/helpful bits and pieces to draw in.

It all started on a blind date.

Which, I mean, when I tell people that’s how I met the love of my life, they assume I mean Phil. Don’t get me wrong, Phil is great, and I love having him in my life and have no intention of changing that any time soon. But he’s not what I’m talking about.

Phil was a friend of a friend of my roommate; I was working on finalizing my thesis topic for my PhD (art history, with a planned focus on the intersection of technological changes and shifts in the art world in the middle third of the nineteenth century). He worked in a bank, not at the university, which was probably for the best. Academia is a small world, and it can get super incestuous when ninety-five percent of the people you meet are, if not actually in your fairly small field, in something related.

So, Phil wasn’t an academic (although he had worked as a freelance translator while getting his CPA), and math (especially money math) has never exactly been my strong suit, but we found plenty of other things to talk about. A shared fondness for murder mysteries, the more ridiculous the better; a couple of fandoms in common; a similar sense of humor. And he was over the moon proud of his older sister, who was apparently making a major name for herself in the world of classical piano, so. You know. He clearly appreciated super-nerdy niche careers, even if he didn’t have one himself.

Besides, it was nice to get a break from going through all of the preliminary research I’d gathered, trying to find a thread to follow and spin into my actual thesis.

It was even nicer when the Agatha Christie movie we saw was better than we expected, and then we spent almost two hours at my favorite Middle Eastern place (best falafel in town) just talking, until they kicked us out at closing time.

Phil was sweet, and kind, and funny, and I’ve always been a sucker for boys with big blue eyes.

Naturally, we ended up back at his place.

He lived at home with his parents--which, no judgement; I’d probably still be living with mine if I hadn’t had to move halfway across the country for my PhD program--but they were out of town for the week, and I like to give my roommate a little more notice before asking for privacy.

His couch was also a hell of a lot nicer than mine.

We’d been getting into a nice rhythm, and then Phil had come up for air--and to strip his shirt the rest of the way off--when it caught my eye.

I’m still not sure what exactly drew my attention. The piece isn’t large; including the frame, it’s only a little bit bigger than a standard letter-sized piece of paper. A simple portrait of two men at a window; one seated, the other standing.

“Oh, hey, what’s that?” I asked.

“Huh?” Phil said, blinking a couple of times, then turning his head to see what I was looking at. “Uh…the painting? It’s…a painting? I don’t know, it’s been there for as long as I can remember.”

“Right,” I said, sitting half-propped-up on my elbows, still looking more at the painting than the (admittedly very pleasant) view of shirtless Phil. “…sorry. Uh. Art nerd brain activating.”

“…right,” he said, and sighed a little, but sat all the way up himself, climbing off me and pulling one of the couch cushions over onto his lap.

“Thanks. Sorry again. Can I take a closer look?”

“Go ahead,” he said.

I smiled at him and headed over to the other side of the room, leaving my own shirt behind.

Could be anywhere from the late 1820s to the 1840s, I guess, I thought. Men’s fashion didn’t provide as many clues as women’s fashion in that period. At least not to me--while I had done some research into fashion and textiles, if only because I was interested in the development of dyes and other pigments, my focus had always been more on painting.

My phone was on the coffee table, right where I’d dumped it when it started getting in the way; I picked it up. “Can I…?” I asked.

“Sure,” Phil said, running a hand through his hair.

“Great.” I took a quick picture of the painting on the wall--I knew a couple people who might have a better time dating it by the clothing than I would.

Right. So, I have at least a vague time period. What else?

The subjects weren’t young men; I’d guess both were somewhere between fifty and seventy or so. The seated man seemed like the older of the two, but that was hard to gauge even with a photograph. He had broad shoulders, a full beard; was wearing a fairly plain dark suit. First impression: quiet, steady, calm, strong. A vague melancholy, but not overwhelming. Just a general vibe.

The other man was positioned just to the side of and slightly behind the chair, standing absolutely perfectly straight--but not stiff; more like the kind of ingrained upright perfection you see in career military men. Impressive muttonchops, rather than a full beard. Everything about him said stern, severe; except for one hand, resting almost gently on the back of the chair.

It was definitely posed--most portraits before the Impressionists were anyway--but there was almost a sort of casual intimacy to it, anyway. What kind, I couldn’t say. But whoever these men were, they were close. One way or another.

“Do you know who the artist was?” I asked.

“Uh, my great-great-something grandmother, I think?” Phil said. He got up off the couch and wandered over to stand next to me. “Like I said, it’s been hanging there as long as I can remember, and I think it’s been in the family forever.”

“Right.”

With that in mind, it could have been an amateur piece; plenty of upper-class and bourgeois women and girls studied painting as just part of how to become an Accomplished Young Lady. But there was something familiar nagging at the corner of my mind. Something about the hand on the back of the chair, or the eyes, or…

If I could get a closer look, really get into the fine detail of brush strokes and other aspects of the composition, maybe it’d fall into place. But the style was definitely familiar, and not in the sense of ‘this was the work of a talented schoolgirl; I’ve seen half a dozen like it before.’

More specific than that.

“What was her name, do you know?”

“Family stories always call her Mémé Cosette,” he said. “But that was a nickname, I think. Her real name was…very French, but, well, that side of my family’s French so that’s, uh, not really surprising.” He frowned. “I know I know it, hang on.”

Well, worth a shot. “Maybe it’ll come to you in a minute,” I said. “Is this the original frame?”

“Far as I know,” he said. “Sorry, like I said, it’s been there forever. Just sort of…part of the living room.”

So, maybe. “Can I take it down? I’ll be careful, I promise.”

“Sure,” he said. “…Emilie? It started with an E, I’m absolutely sure.”

“Right,” I said, absently, focused on taking the wooden frame off the wall.

A simple thing, and definitely actual wood, not plastic; probably not brand new. So, it could have been original, or not too much later than the portrait. Or it could have been a decent frame from ten years ago. Once again, hard to say for sure without further study.

I flipped it over. There was a handwritten inscription on the back.

Papa et J---- 28 août ’34.

And the handwriting was--

Oh my God.

“Eugenie? No, that’s not--Euphrasie? Yeah, I think that’s it.”

I had always thought that, when people said their heart skipped a beat, it was a poetic exaggeration. But, hand to God, in that moment, mine did.

“Ari?” Phil asked. “You okay?”

“Euphrasie,” I said. “Euphrasie Pontmercy?”

“That…sounds right,” he said. “…wait, you know her? Uh, of her?”

I turned the painting back over, and--yeah, yes, absolutely, that was it. That was what I was seeing--the distinctive way she did detail work in her early period, particularly in the shading around the eyes and hands in her rare portraits. The things that show the most humanity, as one of my high school drawing teachers had put it. I’d still need a closer look, outside the frame, to be absolutely sure, but.

“I--yeah,” I said. “Yeah, I…I know her.”

And the inscription on the back--Papa et J----, 28 août ’34. Papa and J----, August 28, ‘34. 1834, obviously. And--Papa.

Holy fucking shit.

“Wait,” Phil said. “Was…was Mémé Cosette actually famous? Like, people study her?”

“She was pretty well known for a while, but mostly it’s the length of her career that makes her interesting,” I said. “Not like she was a major player in any of the art movements she was on the fringes of, but she adapted some of their techniques to her own style as time went on, and…yes. Yes, people study her.” I took a breath. “Is there…do you think there’s any chance your parents would let me borrow this? To do more detailed study and analysis, I mean. Maybe. Maybe write a paper?” Or a thesis?

“Probably,” he said. “I mean, you can always ask, and I don’t see any reason why they’d say no?”

“Great,” I said. “Uh. Just let me…” I took a couple more pictures with my phone--the portrait, the frame, the inscription--and then carefully, and hopefully without being too obviously reluctant, hung it back in its place on the wall. “…I’m sorry, Phil, I have to…”

“Yeah, of course,” he said. “Rain check?”

I blinked and--we’d had a good time, before I sort of ruined it, and he was very beautiful, standing there with his shirt off and those big blue eyes. “Definitely,” I said, leaning in to give him a very quick peck on the lips on my way to collect my shirt. “I’ll call you. For more than just the painting. Promise.”

He smiled, and. Oh, yeah. Definitely calling him back.

Later. In a few days.

First, though. That painting.

#shadowsong writes other fandoms #shadowsong writes self-indulgent bs

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madamlaydebug · 1 year

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STUDENTS OF THEOSOPHY: DO YOU HAVE THE AUTHENTIC EDITIONS OF "THE SECRET DOCTRINE" AND H.P. BLAVATSKY'S OTHER BOOKS?

The original 1888 version of “The Secret Doctrine” had been out of print and unavailable since 1893, when Annie Besant published the so-called “Third and Revised Edition” of “The Secret Doctrine,” which was found to contain tens of thousands of alterations from HPB’s own text, ranging from minor and unnecessary alterations of words and grammar to major distortions in the form of deletion of entire sentences and paragraphs.

In 1925, at great personal expense on the part of some associates of the United Lodge of Theosophists, the original and unaltered “Secret Doctrine” was republished and has remained in print and in demand ever since.

Other Theosophical groups later followed suit, so that now both Theosophy Company (the publishers for the ULT) and Theosophical University Press (the publishers for The Theosophical Society – Pasadena) publish the original editions of HPB’s major works in photographic facsimile form.

The Theosophical Society – Adyar (which owns the Theosophical Publishing House) hasn’t published or sold the authentic and original editions of HPB’s books for over 100 years and seems to have a distinct aversion to doing so. If they do not have such an aversion, then why don’t they publish them instead of publishing only a very incomplete selection of her books – most of which have been highly edited and abridged – and also at least one book which they claim to have been written by HPB but which was largely written by an anonymous Adyar Theosophist in the 20th century and which presents a distinctly different view of Theosophy than HPB’s genuine writings, namely the “Practical Occultism” book? Sadly they have a long history of publishing deliberately distorted and altered texts.

It is not advisable to buy abridged, abbreviated, or edited versions of books by H.P. Blavatsky. If HPB had intended for her books to be shorter then she would have made them shorter…but she didn’t. The reader of abridged and altered books has no way of knowing exactly what details and content they’re missing out on. It has often been found that the people who presumptuously assume the role of “editor” of HPB’s works tend to edit out anything with which they do not personally agree or which they don’t personally like very much, thus leading to a distorted and incomplete end result.

Although the “Third and Revised Edition” and its later incarnation as the “Adyar Edition” are now thankfully out of print, the Adyar Society makes available Boris de Zirkoff’s “Collected Writings” edition of “The Secret Doctrine,” which itself contains numerous alterations, additions, deletions, and presumptuous “improvements” and annotations, some of which are even more audacious than the work of Annie Besant and G.R.S. Mead in their 1893 doctoring of this monumental book.

There is nothing which is actually inconsequential or outdated in the writings of HPB, as those who have studied them in the form that she originally wrote them will unhesitatingly affirm. All of it is still very relevant today and some of it even more so than when originally written.

When it comes to purchasing a copy of “The Secret Doctrine,” the only entirely unaltered and verbatim editions of the original text published today are those published by Theosophy Company and Theosophical University Press. These are available at more or less the same price as one another, the only real difference between the two being that the Theosophy Company edition contains both volumes bound together in one big hardback book while the Theosophical University Press edition is published as two separate books but which are sold together, either in hardback or paperback form.

“The Secret Doctrine” consists of two volumes, titled “Cosmogenesis” and “Anthropogenesis.” The so-called “Third Volume” or “Volume 3” of “The Secret Doctrine” is not an authentic part of this work and is not what it claims to be. It too was a Besant publication, being published by her in 1897, and consisting of some of HPB’s unfinished articles, writings, and other documents – edited and altered by Besant again – which she herself had never wished to publish, due to their incomplete or private nature.

* You can read more in the article "A Beginner's Guide To Studying The Secret Doctrine" at http://blavatskytheosophy.com/a-beginners-guide-to-studying-the-secret-doctrine/

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sakuraswordly · 7 months

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Aerith: "Fate and destiny are no guarantee. Still, I hope some day you'll come and find me."

Bouns event from Tsofph Season 8(Story of Daily Life)

At the talent show stage somewhere

*Sonic sang Embracing the Quasar Stars(By 金丸淳一さん)*

Ant & Dec: Woah.......

Amy: Wow......

Velvet: Clap! Clap!

Lilo: Wow....Maikaʻi loa! Maikaʻi loa!

Stitch: Bravo! Palawo!

Everyone: *Applause Clap! Clap!*

At Behind stage

Danny: Wow...Sonic!....You did have a beautiful voice! So what's the song about?

Sonic: Don't know, but I think it was come from Punch and Peter.

Danny: Hmm?

Sonic: "No matter how far away we are, as long as you believe in now, let's walk together and we will conquer the great sea of stars."

Danny: Hmm???????

Punch: Sonic! That's an amazing performance! So where did you learn that song anyway?

Sonic: *Soft laugh* from you, Punch.

Punch and Danny: Huh????????

Sonic: (One day you will meet Peter one day as I saw in your memories. Now all I can do is protect you from now.)

Knowledge 23

This was also the first illustrated version of the story. The novel was first published in 1911 by Hodder & Stoughton in the UK, and Charles Scribner's Sons in the US. The original book contains a frontispiece and 11 half-tone plates by the artist F. D. Bedford (whose illustrations are still under copyright in the EU). The novel was first abridged by May Byron in 1915, with Barrie's permission, and published under the title Peter Pan and Wendy, the first time this form was used. This version was later illustrated by Mabel Lucie Attwell in 1921. Since its original production, the story has been adapted as a pantomime, a stage musical, a television special, a live themed ice-skating show in the mid-1970s, and several films, including a 1924 silent film, a 1953 Disney animated film, and a 2003 live action film. The play is now rarely performed in its original form on stage in the UK, whereas pantomime adaptations are frequently staged around Christmas. In the U.S., the original version has also been supplanted in popularity by the 1954 musical version, which became popular on television. In 1929, Barrie gave the copyright of the Peter Pan works to Great Ormond Street Hospital, a children's hospital in London.

In Britain, Wendy appeared as a boy's name in the 1881 census of England, and was occasionally used as a nickname for the Welsh Gwendolyn. However, its popularity as a girl's name is attributed to the character Wendy Darling from the 1904 play Peter Pan and its 1911 novelization Peter and Wendy by J. M. Barrie.

Wendy Moira Angela Darling is a fictional character and one of the main protagonists of the 1904 play and 1911 novel Peter and Wendy by J. M. Barrie, as well as in most adaptations in other media. Her exact age is not specified in the original play or novel by Barrie, though it is implied that she is about Peter's age as she is "just Peter's size".As a girl on the verge of adulthood, she stands in contrast to Peter Pan, a boy who refuses to grow up, the major theme of the Peter Pan stories. Wendy hesitates at first to fly off to Neverland, but she comes to enjoy her adventures. Ultimately, she chooses to go back to her parents and accepts that she has to grow up.

On stage

In the first productions of the play at the Duke of York's theatre in London, from 1904 to 1909, she was portrayed by Hilda Trevelyan and at the first US production at the Empire Theatre in New York in 1905, by Mildred Morris.

#sakuraswordly #tsubasa of phantasia comic #tsubasa of phantasia knowledge #Tsofph Peter Pan #Punch Whalen #Relationship between Peter and Punch #wendy darling #disney peter pan history #Tsofph spoliers #Tsofph Season 10(Chapter3 The End World)

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shelvingcart · 1 year

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S01 E02 - Episode 2: The Princess Bride by William Goldman - Show Notes

On July 5th, 2023 we discussed The Princess Bride. Here are our shownotes. After the line break we discuss:

William Goldman background information

Good Reads reviews for the book

The narrative frame of the book

Plot Summary

Book recommendations

ALSO, there are tons of spoilers.

Teddy's Notes on William Goldman:

Who the Fuck is William Goldman?

Born to a Jewish family (heyo!) in Chicago in 1931, and graduated from Oberlin College in 1952. He took a creative writing course there, but he says his grades were horrible. Despite the fact that he was an editor of the college’s literary magazine, he says that other editors read his anonymous submissions and said, “we can’t possibly publish this shit.”

He was drafted for the Korean War and, due to his typing skills, was assigned as a clerk in the Pentagon.

Thanks GI Bill! Goldman got his master of arts from Columbia, studying the comedy of manners in America.

Goldman’s older brother, James Goldman, was a playwright and screenwriter. William Goldman lived with him and a friend, John Kander, who also went to Oberlin. You might know John Kander as the composer for Cabaret, and Chicago. Eventually all three of them, William, James, and John, would win Academy Awards for their work.

Last week we talked about how PROLIFIC Suzanne Collins was. Now it’s time to talk about William Goldman:

He wrote 17 novels, one children’s book, 5 short stories, and 8 works of non-fiction (if you don’t count the books that assemble his screenplays).

He is a credited producer on 24 films, including the Princess Bride, of course, but also Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and the Stepford Wives, among others.

The Dish from Tisch: William Goldman was the script doctor for Good Will Hunting... which won Matt Damon and Ben Affleck the Oscar for best screenplay.

The Princess Bride was originally published in 1973, but we should honor it with its full title:

“The Princess Bride: S. Morgenstern’s Classic Tale of True Love and High Adventure, The ‘Good Parts’ Version, Abridged by William Goldman.” More on this later.

The book’s actual beginnings were in stories that William Goldman told to his daughters (he thankfully does not have a son).

The book was adapted into a movie, and William Goldman did write the screenplay (which makes sense given his background). The film was directed by Rob Reiner, and starred Robin Wright and Cary Elwes.

There was going to be a musical, but Goldman had a falling out over royalties with his partner, Adam Guettell, over royalties (Goldman wanted 75%, despite not touching the score). An orchestral suite from the score was performed at the Hollywood Bowl in 2006, but then the project went under.

Selected silly GoodReads reviews:

Ganesh - 2007 - 5 star review

“Funnier and more sexist than the movie.”

Andrea in 2007 added this to her “Want to read”

“Can't wait to read the book! I loved the movie, and not just because we got to see Cary Elwes without his shirt on…”

Patricia in 2007 gave it 4 stars and said

“The story is beautiful and the writing is humorous. My only problem is that it follows the traditional "damsel in distress" plot that has gotten so old. Princess Buttercup is a very weak female character, but I don't know yet whether the author is using her to make a statement about the roles of women in fairytales.”

Teddy's Notes on the Narrative Frame:

And THEN there’s the mock introduction to book itself. I am NOT ashamed to admit that I took a break and googled if S. Morgenstern was real or not. He is not.

Despite pulling directly from Goldman’s real life, including details like the book’s publisher (Harcourt), Goldman’s film career (like working on The Stepford Wives), and the name of his wife (Helen), the actual introduction to the book is a fictional frame story that sets up the “original” Princess Bride as a rare novel by Florinian author S. Morganstern. Florin is a fictional country, which is your tip-off, pretty much. Narrator/Adapter William Goldman is different than author William Goldman, despite the fact that real-Goldman DID adapt the Princess Bride, presumably “The Good Parts,” into a movie. Um, this is actually a cataloger’s worst nightmare.

Goldman was a fucking prankster and I am feeling tricked!!!

So there’s the lack of a big reunion scene between Buttercup and Westley, and Goldman claims in one of his little asides that he wrote one himself, but his editor wouldn’t let him put it in. Instead, readers can write to Harcourt publishers and request a copy of the fake-Goldman’s added reunion scene.

Many readers wrote in to the publisher and did receive a letter, but instead of an extra scene, the letter detailed the (obviously fictitious) legal problems that Goldman and his publishers encountered with the Morgenstern estate and its lawyer, Kermit Shog.

This letter was revised and updated periodically; the 1987 revision mentioned the movie, while the 25th Anniversary Edition published the letter with an addendum about Kermit's lawyer granddaughter Carly.

The 30th Anniversary Edition has a footnote that the three pages of the reunion scene were now available online. This is my edition! However, the website itself contained nothing but the text of the original three letters.

This website has since been taken down and superseded by the Houghton Mifflin Harcourt product page for the book, which provides the 2003 version of the Reunion Scene letter as a digital download.[14]”

The 25th anniversary edition’s epilogue mentions a sequel, Buttercup’s Baby, which the epilogue says was “having trouble getting published because of Legal difficulties with S. Morgenstern’s estate.” Later editions (MINE!) include a fake sample chapter, about rescuing Buttercup’s baby but that also includes flashbacks to Inigo’s past and training as a swordsman.

The chapter contains footnotes in which fake-Goldman is OUTRAGED to learn that the rights for the abridgement of Buttercup’s Baby were given to Stephen King.

Goldman was actually trying to write this sequel, as he admitted in a 2007 interview, but he died in 2018 without doing so.

Sarah's plot summary:

Our (actual) story opens on Buttercup, who is in the top 20th most beautiful women alive, and is a milkmaid in the country of Florin. On her farm she has parents who argue and a farm hand named Westley who answers all her requests with “As you wish”. She realizes she’s in love with him when she gets jealous, because she is a woman and jealousy is a main trait of women.

Westley leaves to go to America to make money so he can marry Buttercup. Later, Buttercup’s parents tell her Westley has been killed by the Dread Pirate Roberts.

Prince Humperdinck, the prince of Florin needs a wife and he cannot marry a bald woman (because women are only valued for their looks), so his creepy bff the Count Rugen helps him by bringing him to Buttercup where they agree to a loveless marriage.

Before the wedding, Buttercup is out riding when she gets (inconceivably) kidnapped by a trio of outlaws, Vizzini (the Scillian), Inigo Montoya (a Spanish Fencing master/wizard), and a Turkish Wrestler Fezzik. But (inconceivably), they are followed by a masked man in black. He follows them up the Cliffs of Insanity and battles Inigo and wins. Then he battles Fezzik and wins. And then he successfully defeats Vizzini which is inconceivable, but yet still happens via iocane powder.

Buttercup and the man in black continue running while they argue, the man in black slaps her, and she pushes him down a hill where he yells “As you wish” and we realize it’s actually Westley. Buttercup descends the very steep hill. They reunite! Turns out Westley didn’t die he BECAME the dread pirate roberts

But they are being hotly pursued by Prince Humperdink. So they rush into the Fireswamp, Buttercup falls into snow sand, they deal with ROUS-es and come out alive on the other end only to be met by the Prince. Buttercup swaps herself for Westley’s safety but Humperdinck and Rugen are lying to her about it. They are going to take Westley to the Zoo of Death and torture him.

Anyway, Buttercup has nightmares and realizes she can’t marry the prince, so she tells the Dink himself and he promises to send his 4 fastest ships to get Westley. But remember, westley is being tortured. Humperdinck is planning to kill Buttercup cause he wants to start a war with Guilder.

It’s the day of the wedding, and cut to our friends Inigo and Fezzik, who were separated after their defeats. Fezzik finds Inigo, sobers him up, and they quest to find the Man in Black aka Westley, because Fezzik has found the six fingered man (Count Rugen), who killed Inigo’s dad and who he has sworn revenge upon. They want the man in black help them plan because Vizzini is an asshole who told them they were stupid. So they hear Westley screaming from torture and find him after traveling through all the levels of the Zoo of Death. They bring him to Miracle Max and Valerie, and Max and Valerie help bring him back from being “mostly dead”.

Westley devises a plan to invade the castle during the wedding, and the commotion caused by this prompts Humperdinck to cut the wedding short. Buttercup decides to commit suicide when she reaches the honeymoon suite. Inigo pursues Rugen through the castle and kills him in a sword fight. Westley reaches Buttercup before she commits suicide and drops the most baller line of all time“There's a shortage of perfect breasts in this world. It would be a pity to damage yours.”

Still partially paralyzed, Westley bluffs his way out of a sword fight with Humperdinck, who shows himself as a coward. Instead of killing his rival, Westley decides to leave him alive. The party then rides off into the sunset on four of the prince's purebred white horses. The story ends with a series of mishaps and the prince's men closing in, but the author indicates that he believes that the group got away.

Book Recommendations:

If you love the Princess Bride we recommend reading Howl's Moving Castle by Diane Wynne Jones

#book #books #books & libraries #books and literature #booksbooksbooks #bookstagram #bookshelf #bookworm #booktok #the princess bride #princess bride #podcast #book podcast #show notes #season 1

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queen-feisty-pants · 2 years

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Since I didn’t follow Yona of the Dawn in so long, I recently reread it from the beginning to refresh my memory before catching up on spoilers. Here are some observations/comments/what-have-you:

Going into the reread already knowing Zeno’s backstory, his facial expressions and mannerisms hit different when he makes his first appearance.

I feel like the best way to describe the status of Hak and Yona’s relationship as of the writing of this post is ‘semi-canon.’ They most certainly understand that their feelings are mutual, but they still have ways to go before they can be considered truly canon, imo. This obviously isn’t to shit on them or their relationship - I ADORE Hak and Yona as individual characters and as a couple and have been shipping them for about 8 years now. - but they still have to sort out a lot of stuff first.

Soowon seems to be becoming aware of the flaws in his father’s philosophy. Recognizing these shortcomings as they become apparent is the first step in some long overdue self-reflection. (Yes, I do think there will be some positive development.) Soowon has done some irredeemable and even self-destructive shit, so, if the crimson illness subplot continues on its current trajectory and there is no magical escape, he will be on the fast-track for an intense death where the weight of his emotions and regrets will far exceed the physical pain. Even if the crimson illness matter gets a Disney-like resolution, the happiest ending Soowon can get is realizing that Yona is better suited for the throne and abdicating his title to serve under her. And that’s far too Disney-like/sweet for him, considering the need for making amends. (BTW, my intent isn’t to minimize or detract from the fact that Yuhon was beyond fucked up. Rather, my point is that seeing the logical flaws in his beliefs will most likely be a wake-up call for Soowon.)

Since breaking cycles of hate and trauma has become such a prominent theme in the story, the burning of Hiryuu Castle while Hiryuu’s mausoleum seemingly remains intact most likely symbolizes the need to rebuild. There will be the same foundation/underlying basis, but things will be built anew to promote healing and growth. With that having been said, I’m rooting for a happy ending that still handles this theme realistically. Give me all the optimism and love, but also honestly show the lingering pain and problems and the complexities of healing.

I guess that’s a very abridged version of my feelings about AkaYona. Despite some things that may appear to be somewhat critical, I obviously still love this story and think highly of it. I guess I just wanted to share my feelings and rant about some things that are nagging at me and/or have made an impact on me.

#akayona #akatsuki no yona #yona of the dawn #yona of the red dawn #yona the girl standing in the blush of dawn #akayona spoilers #akatsuki no yona spoilers #yona of the dawn spoilers

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bamfdaddio · 3 years

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Uncanny X-Men Abridged: 1982: Fairytales & Nightmares Edition

The X-Men, those fantastical mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. We’ve been untangling that history for a while, but sometimes, you really want a more in-depth look. Interested? Then read the (un)Abridged X-Men!

(X-Men 153 & 160) - by Chris Claremont and Dave Cockrum, Josef Rubinstein, Bob Wiacek, Brent Anderson

I love how every character gets hit with a good dose of magical fairy dust except for Wolverine and Nightcrawler, who get turned into the Tasmanian Devil and a horny smurf, respectively

1982 is a pretty arc-based year. Most of it is dedicated to space operas, the Brood and Shi’ar politics (yawn), but there are a few outliers. Most notable of these two exceptions are issue 153 - Kitty’s fairytale - and issue 160, the introduction of Limbo. I’ve chosen to highlight these two issues because they are fun, fascinating and, moreover, they are sort of dark mirrors of one another.

Both feature Illyana as a catalyst for the action; both of them feature someone spinning her a little fairytale..

Both feature alternate takes on X-Men: one high fairytale, the other grimdark.

Both are standalone issues that barely feature into the main Shi’ar-plot of 1982 -- seriously, you can take them out without disrupting any narratives -- while still introducing plot points that would become a part of the X-Men mythos. (The Lockheed dragon; the bamf and, most importantly, the introduction of Illyana as Magik.)

It’s funny how the Brood saga takes up almost 80% of the narrative space this year, whereas the whole Limbo/Belasco/Illyana-thing is almost a throwaway plot that is arguably more iconic for the X-Men currently than the Brood are.

Anyway, context. The mansion is in shambles after the attack on the Hellfire Club. Illyana hasn’t returned home after being kidnapped by Arcade -- perhaps to give Colossus a little relief of his homesickness. Illyana then tempts fate:

Take note of that stuffed Fozzi toy, wocka wocka!

Illyana prefers Kitty to tell the story, and I get it. Colossus is a sweetheart, but the dude’s not exactly light of heart. Piotr would probably tell something dreary and fatalistic about three old sisters in a decaying orchard, while Kitty is a lot more fun.

Claremont shows that he is familiar with the workings of the teenage mind, because when faced with the challenge to tell a story, she does the same thing I did when I was thirteen: she goes for a self insert. And she incidentally writes in the boy she has a crush on as her boyfriend.

Look, all I’m saying, we’ve all been there, right?

Anyway, Kitty’s fairytale. Kitty is a pirate, Peter is her shipmate and they stumble upon a quest when ruffians accost a blind prince -- Scott -- and a wizard on his own personal flying carpet -- Xavier. They help out and get roped into the prince’s quest to save his princess from an evil corrupting influence. Sound familiar?

In true Final Fantasy-fashion, all the other party members are introduced one by one. Kitty calls upon a dragon called Lockheed she befriended while Piotr saves a weather goddess trapped in a bottle by the cursed princess. Best highlights, however, are Kitty’s versions of Kurt and Wolverine.

Way of X, I love you, but take note. Kurt was never meant to be puritan.

One of the best parts of this issue is the reaction shots of the other X-Men who listen in to Kitty’s tale. Most of their alternative versions fit stock fairytale characters, although Bamf is more a Disney sidekick than anything else. Wolverine is straight up a Looney Tune though:

At some point, someone looked at this character design and first thought of Sabretooth, right?

The kicker of all of this Kitty wasn´t actually there for the Phoenix Saga: she only met Jean once, briefly, when Jean saved her and the other X-Men from Emma. Kitty never met Dark Phoenix, she only ever heard the details secondhand. Still, she gets it mostly right: prince Scott and princess Jean are star-crossed lovers until Jean is cursed by a corrupting force. As Dark Phoenix, she is hellbent on stopping wizard Xavier and the prince in their tracks, lest they lift the curse by confronting her with her one weakness.

THE HUMANITY

Xavier uses Jean’s humanity to fight off the dark Phoenix and, in this particular universe, they succeed. Scott and Jean get the happy ending they didn’t get in the actual timeline: Kitty even cures his cursed eyebeams. It’s kind of funny that this is the only happy ending the X-Men will ever get during Claremont’s reign.

Speaking of a lack of happy endings, the dark counterpart of Kitty’s fairytale also starts with someone telling Illyana some sweet little lies:

I’m assuming that the whole Stranger Danger-campaign only got big after the eighties? Illyana has all the self preservation skills of a lemming.

Kitty notices that Illyana has vanished and is curious, following her. She steps on a strange light disk and vanishes.

As a slightly piquant aside, I was pleasantly surprised when reading this one digitally. I own a copy of this comic in Dutch (straight from the eighties) and apparently, they censored the version for the low lands. In a comic with creepy assaultey Nightcrawler and many, many, many naked Storms and Wolverines, this page was a bridge too far:

Look, maybe they weren’t entirely wrong. Last time three guys were bouncing around me and I invited them for a shower, I wasn’t entirely innocent either.

I was “also not welcome in that gym again” but that’s besides the point.

Who knows, maybe they just wanted to cut out the clunky exposition of storylines recent. In any case, the X-Men decide to investigate and they are also whisked away: those disks of light are apparently teleportation circles.

Also, can someone please tell Chris Claremont that German sometimes does have i before e?

They’re pulled into a pocket dimension where time and space are treated as guidelines rather than hard and fast rules. While Belasco taunts Kitty (and pulls her skeleton from her body to keep her from escaping), the other X-Men get separated, wandering about this utterly foreign dimension and encountering future/alternative versions of themselves.

I still love how alien this first version of Limbo is. The comic is titled ‘Shoots & Ladders’ and it’s exactly like that, except in creepy, never-ending tunnels and topsy-turvy, shadowy caverns.

Both Wolverine and Colossus are confronted by their dead selves, killed by S’ym, Belasco’s brutish lackey. The alternative Nightcrawler, meanwhile, has been perverted into a freaky little toady who has no qualms about touching Kitty inappropriately. (He's essentially the creepy, disturbing version of a Bamf.) Storm, meanwhile, is aided by an older, jaded version of herself. She’s also the one in charge of teleportation disks, which she uses to aid the X-Men:

Kitty’s casually waving skeleton always sends me

Storm is furious with what Belasco has wrought onto Kitty, her Mother Bear Instincts activating. She wants to give chase, but that’s when older!Storm intervenes. She warns Storm that this is a crossroads. In her variant universe, the X-Men chased after Belasco and it went badly for them: Wolverine and Colossus died, Nightcrawler turned evil and Storm became trapped in Limbo.

There’s no word of what happened to their Kitty or Illyana, but I think that’s because Limbo does not play by any of our regular rules. See, if Belasco wanted Illyana, wouldn't he have one now? But he doesn’t. So maybe Limbo is the Schrödinger’s place, where the X-Men both did and didn’t chase Belasco. Because if they didn’t give chase, they wouldn’t have the older Storm to tell them they shouldn’t give chase, which they end up not doing. But if they don't, there wouldn't be a Storm to warn them from not going, so they would. But they wouldn't.

Got that?

Just when older!Storm prepares to send them home, Belasco returns with an army of demons.

See? I told you that paying attention to that Fozzi-toy would pay off! (Wocka wocka)

And it ends there, with Illyana rescued from her nightmare, but with the promise of more darkness in her future.

I love how Chris Claremont takes a soap opera trope -- aging up a child in the shortest amount of time possible to an age where there’s more to do with them narratively -- and makes it fit into his crazy X-Universe.

And that’s it. Two relatively pared down stories where the normal rules of reality take a backseat: one to lift Illyana’s spirits, one to break her beyond belief. In a year that’s defined by space opera, these two stories have always stuck out to me, simply because of the way they break the mold of the X-Universe. More importantly, they've given us Magik. And Bamf!

Next up: Brood, Brood, Brood, and Shi'ar.

#x-men #uncanny x-men #x-men abridged #abridged x-men #magik #colossus #storm #nightcrawler #wolverine #professor x #phoenix #cyclops #kitty pryde #sprite #limbo #belasco #s'ym #lockheed

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