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ririya-translates · 10 months

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Mitsuki Shirota's Short Story

On the official Japanese Jack Jeanne website, there's a page of full of concept art and short stories for each major character (as well as stories for every character + Kisa). They were written by Shin Towada (primary writer of the game and Ishida's sister) and the art is by Ronin (also did concept art for Nier, Pokemon, Fire Emblem).

I thought it would be cute to post translations on each character's birthday. Since they were written as promo material, spoilers are quite minimal (mostly around the first performance). I tried to keep the original notebook aesthetic and dialogue colour-coding to post on Twitter, but I'm posting a regular text version here for better accessibility.

As if he were observing the ever-fluctuating world through a pane of glass, he always kept his distance. "It's already been a year since we were on stage at the Newcomer's Performance, huh?" He heard those words while in class at the beginning of lunch period. It wasn't that big a deal. The topic should have ended with that one disruptive statement, but it captured the attention of the Univeil Drama School second-year students. Voices of shared nostalgia all piled on top of each other.

"A lot has changed since then, huh? For us and for the ones in other classes too." "I didn't think Sugachi would become the Al Jeanne of Onyx. He's so reserved." "And in Rhodonite, Minorikawa is likely their Jack Ace yeah? It's probably tough being a Jack Ace over there." People always brought up the same names to represent the second-year class.

"Shirota became a tresor like we all expected too." The moment that name was said, the Quartz second years turned their eyes to him. They're so annoying.

Sitting in a chair, chin in his hands, Mitsuki Shirota looked over his sheet music. He remembered something even more clamorous than the noisy stares of a crowd. Shirota was a second-year Quartz student, same as them. The term 'tresor' was reserved only for Jeannes with strong vocal talent. Combined with his unmistakably Jeanne-like facial features, he drew notice from people around him. But their unrestrained gaze was not something he enjoyed.

Shirota raised his head and looked directly at them to catch their stares. His calm expression suddenly turned sharp. Crumbling under the impact, the students hurriedly averted their eyes. "W-well, our grade sure has a lot of talented people, huh?" Avoiding the topic of this interaction, they resumed their conversation. But Shirota knew this discussion would be pointless. He took his sheet music in hand and stood up.

"But y'know… it's because 'that guy' is here." The end of these conversations was always the same. "The moment I saw that guy on stage at last year's Newcomer's Performance, I lost all hope." The cheery atmosphere immediately turned and a heavy air permeated the classroom. "As long as that guy is here, us in the 77th class are…" Shirota and the other second-years were part of the 77th class year in the history of Univeil Drama School. And in that 77th class, everyone had been cursed by the existence of just one person. This doesn't just apply to our class though, does it? It affected the third-years in the 76th class and the first-years in the 78th class too.

Leaving the classroom, he closed the door as if to shut out everything. It's pointless

He fled the group's vortex and went to the terrace next to the Univeil school building. This place, covered in vibrant plants mixed with the smell of flowers, enveloped him in a peaceful atmosphere Siiigh Shirota released a big breath from deep in his lungs, sat on the bench, and opened his sheet music. The Newcomer's Performance vocal section. It was a performance for the newly enrolled first-years to be in lead roles, but Shirota and the other older students would be on stage as well. The duty to support the first-years seemed burdensome to him. Staring at his music sheet, he began to play the song in his head to see the shape of it. Huh?

Suddenly the song was scrambled by noisy footsteps in the distance. Going this way and that, the sound started moving towards Shirota. "Oh, it's Shirota! Working hard today!" Echoing even louder than the footsteps, that clear voice penetrated the ears he was trying to cover. The one who came to greet him with the sunny face to match his personality was the brand new Jack of Quartz, Suzu Orimaki. He had barely just enrolled and was in Shirota's class. "Shut up." "O-oh! My bad!" After being smacked with this unreasonable anger, Suzu sincerely apologized. He didn't avert his eyes the way the students in Shirota's grade did. Shirota's eyes relaxed. "What are you looking around for? The other ones in your grade?" "Whoa, how did you know bro?!" "You're being too loud." "Oh, my bad!" Seeing Suzu quickly cover his mouth, Shirota let out a breath. "I knew because you were wandering all over the place. You're probably looking for Yonaga." Suzu nodded and opened his mouth, "I promised to run lines with those guys on the terrace." He took care to lower his tone of voice a bit, although strangely his voice still reverberated. "…You're with the other first-years a lot huh?" In competition for the good roles with others in their grade, there was often a lot of friction early in the school year. A friction that continued all the way up until graduation in some cases. Images of students in his year flashed in the back of Shirota's mind. "Yeah, they're great guys," Suzu answered with a smile that showed no trace of conflict. "Hmm," Shirota responded vaguely. "Well, sorry for bugging you! I'll be going now!" Suzu gave a short nod and ran off.

As his footsteps faded into the distance, the quiet returned. "…He sure is an energetic one eh?" As if waiting for the right moment, another presence appeared. "Fumi." "Yo." How long had he been there? Without disturbing the quiet, Sarafumi Takashina, the Al Jeanne of Quartz, showed himself. As Shirota was a Jeanne himself, this was the person directly above him. "Kuro would get so excited seeing you talking to the younger students." "Please stop…" The person Fumi called 'Kuro' was the leader of Quartz, Kokuto Neji. He fit in with the rest of those prodigy guys, but to Shirota he was just a bothersome senior. Seeing Shirota make an upset face from deep in his heart, Fumi chuckled. He stood next to Shirota and looked in the direction where Suzu ran off. "Orimaki seems like the type to be friendly with everybody huh?" "No matter what I say, he doesn't back down." "Wherever he goes, the place becomes brighter." "Even just his presence is loud." As soon as Shirota said this, in the distance he could hear, "There you guys are!" It seemed like Suzu had rejoined his classmates. Even with him not present, he was such a loud man. It would probably get even noisier as they started running lines. Or so he thought. Miraculously, Suzu's voice faded and he could no longer hear it. Maybe they changed locations. "Orimaki isn't the only one you've talked to right?" "Hmm, well…" Shirota had an unapproachable energy. While many of his juniors kept their distance to avoid upsetting him, there was one other first-year who approached him like Suzu did. There was this first year with a gentle face whose name kept coming up over and over, from the time he enrolled until being nominated as a Jeanne. This student was always hanging out with Suzu and Yonaga, even the other first-years too sometimes. Maybe those guys changed locations because Orimaki told them I'm here. When he had unpleasant thoughts towards others, all he had to do was reject them. But, if he wasn't like this, how should he be instead? Thinking about it made him a bit tired.

"…Well, Mitsu, it's good to take baby steps," Fumi said in a slow relaxed voice. He spoke as if seeing a future not visible to Shirota himself.

As if surrendering himself to the idea, he quietly replied, "Yeah, we'll see."

#jack jeanne #jackjeanne #translation #hbd mitsuki #towada is an amazing writer #i hope i can do her stories justice

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whatbigotspost · 9 months

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On being real mean and then less mean

Long post incoming........I've been chipping away at writing this for like a month now and (unlike my usual self) I've stalled out a few times unsure of what all I want to say. But I think I've got it squared up the way I would like to. Unfortunately, I need a long context laying preamble. Sorry this will feel like an online recipe experience 😅

As the 5 of you who usually read my blocks of text will know well, I grew up in a very toxic, abusive, high-control environment. If you wanted to intentionally produce kids who would have anxiety, shame, self-loathing, aggression, be overly-competitive, angry, and equipped with little-to-no social skills, you should be parented like I was. In my nuclear family, we couldn't have had worse life lessons or role modeling when it comes to building healthy relationships, strong friendships, and harmonious existence with others. Violence was often normalized. Manipulation was encouraged. Specific conditions and rules were put on receiving love and/or affection. We weren't seen as independent humans who had their own lives and thoughts and ambitions--we were seen as extensions of my father, brought into the world to be his unquestioning cheerleaders and adoring team, to do our best to become his clones, to live out his unrealized dreams, and to combat his grievances w/ the world.

In short, it sucked.

Above all, I was taught in a very deep and real way to hate myself, not that this was explicitly acknowledged mind you, but it was the implication of everything. This self loathing was an extension of my father's own insecurities and full inability to grow the fuck up and build a life for himself that was emotionally mature, resilience, and self-caring. This mentality, if truly internalized, creates ugliness from the inside that radiates outward. I can see that so clearly now, but back then, I didn't understand it at all.

I was implicitly taught a thought process like, "the best way to 'own' someone is to shit talk them into crying" or "you can make yourself look stronger and distract from your own shortcomings by staying 1 step ahead of everyone through making THEM feel like shit about their shortcomings."

But you weren't just mean to someone to stay ahead of them, you were also mean as a way to ingratiate others to you. "Telling it like it is" even if what you said was unnecessarily cruel, was a virtue. Like, "what? I'm just saying what we're all thinking!" kind of stuff. I was taught that "teasing" is a way you show someone you love them, where "teasing" means saying all kinds of awful things that are quite hurtful. I was taught that being funny was one of the most important qualities and it didn't matter if those laughs came at the expense of others' feelings and if, over time, your comments began to destroy those around you.

It's "just teasing." It's "just joking." It was a lot of "oh come, on grow a thicker skin" over "maybe saying cruel shit for fun is bad?" It was "God, I can dish it and I can take it, why can't you?" over "maybe I want friends who support one another instead of digging at our insecurities."

Some recent nostalgia I've been wallowing in this summer reminded me of my grossest self who lived by these rules.

Those worst moments, where I was a bully and an asshole, all occurred for me at school, when I was probably around 11/12 and older. School was a very interesting place for me. When I try to paint an efficient picture of what my childhood home was like for others, I often say, my family existed in a weird liminal someplace between mainstream, mid western white suburban society and a survivalist/separatist/cult/fringe culture (like Tara Westover describes in Educated or as seen in Captain Fantastic if you're familiar w/ either of those.) We were a cult of 4 and there were many things We Did Not Do, all my dad's rules. (My grandparent's house was a safe harbor unlike my home, but that's a tangent for another time.) That said, accessing education was something my father DID trust the local government to do (as long as he could emphasize over and over how we can't trust everything they say, we could trust their lessons of math, music, English, etc.) He strategically chose a place to live where I could get the best "free" education possible in Central Indiana. My social life existed fully in a traditional school setting, where it took me all of 2 seconds to clock that other kids' lives weren't like mine, and that was compelling to me. I became a lifelong student of interpersonal relationship dynamics far before I realized I had become a lifelong student of relationships. I remember when I was in elementary school journaling about and thinking about and talking about all the friend groups and dynamics, etc. Writing stories about friend groups. Creating Barbie universes and dramas with 2 neighborhood friends. Trying to spend more and more time w/ peers instead of family.

Beyond that, I loved school because I would receive praise and love at home for A's and praise and love from my teachers for being "so good" (aka offering 100% deference to adult authority as I been told to do, even if I could question them inside.) This all means when I was very young, I did SO WELL at figuring out school...how to make friends...how to get an A+...how to get teachers to love me...how to be The Good Kid...how to reduce my value to my grades and what I produced, which is a mentality I've still only begun to unweave from within me, some 30 years later.

Anyway, point is, despite the hand I was dealt, I somehow never had trouble making friends and with a lot of my closest friends, I wasn't all that mean to in the way I describe above, at least initially. But when I did apply that behavior, god damn was it ugly. I get that now, but back then, I felt cool as fuck.

The more it (temporarily worked for me) the more I used meanness. By the time I was like 17, I literally was known as mean and wore it as a badge of honor. Lacking emotional intelligence and an overtly loving home environment, I thought it was normal? cool? idk...to "not be able to handle mushy emotional stuff." I would (LITERALLY) run if friends were telling me they loved me. It became more and more common for me to apply, "witty mean girl" quips to even my closest friends. Stuff was said about me like, "oh, if she makes fun of you, it means she really loves you." I was always saying shit to gain laughs from others that really hurt some people and I would act like that was a THEM thing like "god, they're so sensitive, poor widdle baby."

NOT GOOD. Nothing to be proud of. Signs of someone who deep down hates themselves and hopes you don't notice because of a big, bad exterior. In this era, I was someone who attracted and accepted other toxic people and was abusive toward and accepted abuse from friends who had these same issues. How I met and fell in love w/ my partner who is not at all like this during that period of time back when sometimes confounds me. His boundaries and feelings are why I started really looking inward. His patience and willingness to understand what was going on for me was immense (as I was similarly patient for things related to his baggage.) FOR YEARS we had a dynamic where I'd "make fun of" "tease" "just joke" about him too harshly in front of others and he would ask me over and over to stop. I'd get better for a while, then I'd backslide and make him feel like shit in a group setting again--but hey! everyone laughed at my ~*~*just oh so hilarious comment*~*~ and so that makes it fine right?? Obviously, not, and the older I got the more I started to FINALLY see "mean" as mean and not "telling it like it is" or being a core part of my humor.

How I REALLY know that this toxic coping mechanism I used to my benefit was a thinly veiled defense mechanism style behavior to cloud my deep deep deep self loathing is because when I'd be talking w/ my partner about his very reasonable and normal request that I not say unnecessarily cruel things about him for fun in front of others, I would be afraid of things like, "But that's part of who I am? It's my humor."

I really thought so lowly of myself that I believed that if I wasn't witty-mean, people wouldn't love me. That I wouldn't still be funny. That I wouldn't be ME unless I was being MEAN. It was so backwards and upside down because my meanness did make me harder to be around, and people were right there loving me anyway, not because of it, but despite it.

It's so sad to realize this! Looking back and describing this girl now feels in both parts foreign to me and also like looking in a mirror. I've been in 20 years of some form or another of "recovery" from this kind of childhood now, and I'm about 15 years into true healing and re-parenting myself. Almost 14 years ago, I made the biggest shift toward killing this old mentality...I moved away from my home town and the people I spent my days around to that point. I had an opportunity for a hard reset in my social life and behaviors, leaving behind old reputations that didn't serve me. And I’m still me. I’m spicy and I’m real and I’m blunt and I’m funny but I’m not cruel or mean anymore. The old me sometimes still rears her ugly head, especially when I'm tired, stress, or dysregulated. But it's less "how I am" now than ever in my life.

As I've been thinking about this whole topic for quite a few weeks now, and I tried to articulate what I did that really changed me and allowed me to shed that mean girl shell of armor I was wearing that I had so thoroughly needed to outgrow. If these things resonate with you, I do have some pieces of advice.

Speak from your personal values 100% of the time. That means defining your personal values first, not just accepting what you think is valuable you've been told by others. Once I grew the maturity to understand I needed my own life values, it was very simple to grasp that I was not in line with them. My top 5 personal life values are: love, equity, humor, loyalty, and open communication. Mean jokes don't check many of those boxes.

Become your own best friend first. My behaviors were driven by self-hatred I did not choose. When I choose how I want to feel about myself, I choose self-compassion, and I actively cultivate this mentality and practice all. the. time so that I don't backslide.

Stop "telling it like it is." This is not helpful. No one needs something obvious and cruel pointed out. This is basic "THINK" acronym stuff. It's a classic because it works. Is what you're about to say.... "true, helpful, inspiring, necessary, kind." Telling it like it is is only TRUE, it's rarely -HINK.

Never "just joke" about something someone could possibly be vulnerable about. If someone has a physical wound, you don't jab your finger into it for fun. When someone has an emotional tenderness, you similarly don't jab a mean comment into it. When in doubt, just don't joke about it.

Have actual hard conversations and "call outs" in the right times/spaces. Sometimes behavior that one friend may call "mean" is actually a very necessary hard conversation to the other person. So it's helpful to just remember that those kind of real-deal communications are rarely done effectively or productively with an audience or by using humor. Real shit deserves a real shit tone.

Push yourself to say the nicest stuff and just be fucking sincere and genuine. Tell your friends you love them. Tell your friends when you are obsessed with what they are achieving/doing/saying. Tell your friends WHAT you love about them. Make an effort for your most important relationships to have far, far more "positive bids" than negative.

Use "teasing" or "self deprecating" humor selectively and strategically. Sometimes, my partner and I DO tease each other by having open communication and actually knowing one another's boundaries, I now understand what's fine and what's not. So I can proceed w/o hurting him. But I don't know most people to that level, so I'm not going to try to tease someone else in front of others w/o that knowledge anymore. Self deprecating humor has also been a go-to for me in the past and one of the people I could be meanest to was myself. I realized I should use it sparingly with people who I don't know well, too, because I don't necessarily need to give them a cheat sheet to what my baggage is. And lastly, in general, I think that we should ALL be very very careful to spare strangers our sarcasm, deadpan comments, or whatever. Many folks are neurodiverse or otherwise don't get your sarcasm and your implications can be lost in translation. You never know what topics, with strangers, might be a hornet's nest you stumble into.

PFEW! Ok, I think that's plenty for now! If you've got similar tips or thoughts, LMK! Of course, I still fuck up my practice of not being mean all the time, but the best thing about having done this work and shared it with those around me is that my friends are much more like to say something like, "OW! Was that your dad talking for a sec?" and help me than to just go on assuming I'm an asshole. 😆

#healthy relationships #abuse #interpersonal relationships #toxic relationships #child abuse #self compassion #healing #reparenting #resources #advice

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mariacallous · 2 months

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In February 1994, in the grand ballroom of the town hall in Hamburg, Germany, the president of Estonia gave a remarkable speech. Standing before an audience in evening dress, Lennart Meri praised the values of the democratic world that Estonia then aspired to join. “The freedom of every individual, the freedom of the economy and trade, as well as the freedom of the mind, of culture and science, are inseparably interconnected,” he told the burghers of Hamburg. “They form the prerequisite of a viable democracy.” His country, having regained its independence from the Soviet Union three years earlier, believed in these values: “The Estonian people never abandoned their faith in this freedom during the decades of totalitarian oppression.”

But Meri had also come to deliver a warning: Freedom in Estonia, and in Europe, could soon be under threat. Russian President Boris Yeltsin and the circles around him were returning to the language of imperialism, speaking of Russia as primus inter pares—the first among equals—in the former Soviet empire. In 1994, Moscow was already seething with the language of resentment, aggression, and imperial nostalgia; the Russian state was developing an illiberal vision of the world, and even then was preparing to enforce it. Meri called on the democratic world to push back: The West should “make it emphatically clear to the Russian leadership that another imperialist expansion will not stand a chance.”

At that, the deputy mayor of St. Petersburg, Vladimir Putin, got up and walked out of the hall.

Meri’s fears were at that time shared in all of the formerly captive nations of Central and Eastern Europe, and they were strong enough to persuade governments in Estonia, Poland, and elsewhere to campaign for admission to NATO. They succeeded because nobody in Washington, London, or Berlin believed that the new members mattered. The Soviet Union was gone, the deputy mayor of St. Petersburg was not an important person, and Estonia would never need to be defended. That was why neither Bill Clinton nor George W. Bush made much attempt to arm or reinforce the new NATO members. Only in 2014 did the Obama administration finally place a small number of American troops in the region, largely in an effort to reassure allies after the first Russian invasion of Ukraine.

Nobody else anywhere in the Western world felt any threat at all. For 30 years, Western oil and gas companies piled into Russia, partnering with Russian oligarchs who had openly stolen the assets they controlled. Western financial institutions did lucrative business in Russia too, setting up systems to allow those same Russian kleptocrats to export their stolen money and keep it parked, anonymously, in Western property and banks. We convinced ourselves that there was no harm in enriching dictators and their cronies. Trade, we imagined, would transform our trading partners. Wealth would bring liberalism. Capitalism would bring democracy—and democracy would bring peace.

After all, it had happened before. Following the cataclysm of 1939–45, Europeans had indeed collectively abandoned wars of imperial, territorial conquest. They stopped dreaming of eliminating one another. Instead, the continent that had been the source of the two worst wars the world had ever known created the European Union, an organization designed to find negotiated solutions to conflicts and promote cooperation, commerce, and trade. Because of Europe’s metamorphosis—and especially because of the extraordinary transformation of Germany from a Nazi dictatorship into the engine of the continent’s integration and prosperity—Europeans and Americans alike believed that they had created a set of rules that would preserve peace not only on their own continents, but eventually in the whole world.

This liberal world order relied on the mantra of “Never again.” Never again would there be genocide. Never again would large nations erase smaller nations from the map. Never again would we be taken in by dictators who used the language of mass murder. At least in Europe, we would know how to react when we heard it.

But while we were happily living under the illusion that “Never again” meant something real, the leaders of Russia, owners of the world’s largest nuclear arsenal, were reconstructing an army and a propaganda machine designed to facilitate mass murder, as well as a mafia state controlled by a tiny number of men and bearing no resemblance to Western capitalism. For a long time—too long—the custodians of the liberal world order refused to understand these changes. They looked away when Russia “pacified” Chechnya by murdering tens of thousands of people. When Russia bombed schools and hospitals in Syria, Western leaders decided that that wasn’t their problem. When Russia invaded Ukraine the first time, they found reasons not to worry. Surely Putin would be satisfied by the annexation of Crimea. When Russia invaded Ukraine the second time, occupying part of the Donbas, they were sure he would be sensible enough to stop.

Even when the Russians, having grown rich on the kleptocracy we facilitated, bought Western politicians, funded far-right extremist movements, and ran disinformation campaigns during American and European democratic elections, the leaders of America and Europe still refused to take them seriously. It was just some posts on Facebook; so what? We didn’t believe that we were at war with Russia. We believed, instead, that we were safe and free, protected by treaties, by border guarantees, and by the norms and rules of the liberal world order.

With the third, more brutal invasion of Ukraine, the vacuity of those beliefs was revealed. The Russian president openly denied the existence of a legitimate Ukrainian state: “Russians and Ukrainians,” he said, “were one people—a single whole.” His army targeted civilians, hospitals, and schools. His policies aimed to create refugees so as to destabilize Western Europe. “Never again” was exposed as an empty slogan while a genocidal plan took shape in front of our eyes, right along the European Union’s eastern border. Other autocracies watched to see what we would do about it, for Russia is not the only nation in the world that covets its neighbors’ territory, that seeks to destroy entire populations, that has no qualms about the use of mass violence. North Korea can attack South Korea at any time, and has nuclear weapons that can hit Japan. China seeks to eliminate the Uyghurs as a distinct ethnic group, and has imperial designs on Taiwan.

We can’t turn the clock back to 1994, to see what would have happened had we heeded Lennart Meri’s warning. But we can face the future with honesty. We can name the challenges and prepare to meet them.

There is no natural liberal world order, and there are no rules without someone to enforce them. Unless democracies defend themselves together, the forces of autocracy will destroy them. I am using the word forces, in the plural, deliberately. Many American politicians would understandably prefer to focus on the long-term competition with China. But as long as Russia is ruled by Putin, then Russia is at war with us too. So are Belarus, North Korea, Venezuela, Iran, Nicaragua, Hungary, and potentially many others. We might not want to compete with them, or even care very much about them. But they care about us. They understand that the language of democracy, anti-corruption, and justice is dangerous to their form of autocratic power—and they know that that language originates in the democratic world, our world.

This fight is not theoretical. It requires armies, strategies, weapons, and long-term plans. It requires much closer allied cooperation, not only in Europe but in the Pacific, Africa, and Latin America. NATO can no longer operate as if it might someday be required to defend itself; it needs to start operating as it did during the Cold War, on the assumption that an invasion could happen at any time. Germany’s decision to raise defense spending by 100 billion euros is a good start; so is Denmark’s declaration that it too will boost defense spending. But deeper military and intelligence coordination might require new institutions—perhaps a voluntary European Legion, connected to the European Union, or a Baltic alliance that includes Sweden and Finland—and different thinking about where and how we invest in European and Pacific defense.

If we don’t have any means to deliver our messages to the autocratic world, then no one will hear them. Much as we assembled the Department of Homeland Security out of disparate agencies after 9/11, we now need to pull together the disparate parts of the U.S. government that think about communication, not to do propaganda but to reach more people around the world with better information and to stop autocracies from distorting that knowledge. Why haven’t we built a Russian-language television station to compete with Putin’s propaganda? Why can’t we produce more programming in Mandarin—or Uyghur? Our foreign-language broadcasters—Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty, Radio Free Asia, Radio Martí in Cuba—need not only money for programming but a major investment in research. We know very little about Russian audiences—what they read, what they might be eager to learn.

Funding for education and culture needs rethinking too. Shouldn’t there be a Russian-language university, in Vilnius or Warsaw, to house all the intellectuals and thinkers who have just left Moscow? Don’t we need to spend more on education in Arabic, Hindi, Persian? So much of what passes for cultural diplomacy runs on autopilot. Programs should be recast for a different era, one in which, though the world is more knowable than ever before, dictatorships seek to hide that knowledge from their citizens.

Trading with autocrats promotes autocracy, not democracy. Congress has made some progress in recent months in the fight against global kleptocracy, and the Biden administration was right to put the fight against corruption at the heart of its political strategy. But we can go much further, because there is no reason for any company, property, or trust ever to be held anonymously. Every U.S. state, and every democratic country, should immediately make all ownership transparent. Tax havens should be illegal. The only people who need to keep their houses, businesses, and income secret are crooks and tax cheats.

We need a dramatic and profound shift in our energy consumption, and not only because of climate change. The billions of dollars we have sent to Russia, Iran, Venezuela, and Saudi Arabia have promoted some of the worst and most corrupt dictators in the world. The transition from oil and gas to other energy sources needs to happen with far greater speed and decisiveness. Every dollar spent on Russian oil helps fund the artillery that fires on Ukrainian civilians.

Take democracy seriously. Teach it, debate it, improve it, defend it. Maybe there is no natural liberal world order, but there are liberal societies, open and free countries that offer a better chance for people to live useful lives than closed dictatorships do. They are hardly perfect; our own has deep flaws, profound divisions, terrible historical scars. But that’s all the more reason to defend and protect them. Few of them have existed across human history; many have existed for a time and then failed. They can be destroyed from the outside, but from the inside, too, by divisions and demagogues.

Perhaps, in the aftermath of this crisis, we can learn something from the Ukrainians. For decades now, we’ve been fighting a culture war between liberal values on the one hand and muscular forms of patriotism on the other. The Ukrainians are showing us a way to have both. As soon as the attacks began, they overcame their many political divisions, which are no less bitter than ours, and they picked up weapons to fight for their sovereignty and their democracy. They demonstrated that it is possible to be a patriot and a believer in an open society, that a democracy can be stronger and fiercer than its opponents. Precisely because there is no liberal world order, no norms and no rules, we must fight ferociously for the values and the hopes of liberalism if we want our open societies to continue to exist.

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crushedsweets · 5 months

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You already mentioned before that Toby is your fav, but why is he your fav?

Cuz he was my all time favorite when I was 9-10 so it’s a ton of nostalgia … I also really like his design he’s easily one of the most visually appealing creepypasta men.. color scheme, the fucksss hoodie, the even worse goggles, CONVERSE LOLLLLL. and I think he’s just a fun character to think about. Like such a massive fucking asshole but then I get to draw him hanging out with his friends like :) hayyy!!!!! And it’s fun. Generally pretty expansive character portrayal too which makes it easy to throw that man in a situation and watch him squirm . Also like characters who have strong sibling relationships. Also like characters who get so devoted to something so awful for them. Also like angry characters. Also like happy characters. Also like the hatchets. Also like his relationships with the other characters, both canon and fanon and in my personal AU. But 70% is just this nostalgic attachment I can’t seem to shake w him

Idk I don’t think very deeply about things I just enjoy whatever looks the most fun

#asks

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byeghostsily · 19 days

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MUN INTRO: hi folks! happy soft opening, jia (s/h, 21+) here. i'll be writing for daeun, and if she reminds you of d*phne from scooby doo... yeah. ims/discord available for plotting- please ask! ♡

MUSE INTRO: baek daeun, 22, also @danidanidaeuni on the interwebs. making a living out of yapping about gruesome murders (read: disappointing her parents). back in town for her mom's birthday dinner... or so she claims, with a camera and idea for a shiny new series in hand.

when did your muse first arrive in yuseong bay?

got here literally a couple days ago!!! is staying at her parents', but dear god is she regretting it. is already looking at alternative accommodation. has been doing her best to work off the jetlag, but its really mostly been andante for coffee and back to her place to sleep/work.

what does an average day look like for your muse?

wake up somewhere between 9-10, get caffeine in her. hunt down her latest victim for an interview, or whoever was unlucky enough to be scammed into bringing her around. with luck, she gets some footage. sometimes she's got an episode to record, so the yuseongers are rid of her for a couple hours. stay up til she falls asleep on her laptop. what a life, baby!

where can your muse usually be found?

andante, nursing a drink and going cross-eyed staring at her screen. her blue light glasses make her look like a dweeb, and yes, you can laugh. she has no qualms about asking to share a table <3 / lemon martes, wandering around like a lost ghost. she just likes looking at the displays, ok? / staring dubiously @ pierrot's clown mascot, the lighthouse, antique shop, the old mines, and hovering around the mouth of the woods. its like shes trying to stare them down.... see if something goes bump

how does your muse feel about hanhwa resort?

i don't think she even knows about the resort.. jk! its hard to miss a gigantic building smack dab where she used to go crabbing. there's probably a sense of nostalgia for what things used to be, but she understands that capitalism is a necessary and unstoppable evil. if her parents nag her about marriage one more time, she's booking a room there.

is there an aspiration for your muse to stay in or leave yuseong bay?

the expectation's always been that she'll leave--- while she doesn't have a return ticket booked, she's based in the us, and once she's got enough footage, she's gonezo.

extra, extra!

list your muse’s three favorite songs.

sza's saturn (yes, she's always the problem in every relationship) niki's split (asian diaspora reppppp) the japanese house's sunshine baby not a big fan of hearing men talk

describe your muse’s wardrobe.

she likes looking good, and her personal style leans more feminine. doesn't shy away from bright colours, but likes neutrals because she thinks she's taken more seriously like that </3 for brands, she's partial to hermes, chanel (tho she thinks they're losing their touch a little...) and miu miu!

what is a color, word, and emoji that you feel describes your muse?

purple, why?, 🧋

three strong likes and dislikes for your muse.

likes: windy weather, fruit (thinks korea is insane... wtf do u mean grapes are $10), reading comments dislikes: being rushed, not being organised, a meeting that could've been an email slash call that could've been a text

three positive and negative traits for your muse.

+ compassionate, sincere, enthusiastic - oblivious, naive, condescending

three talents and shortcomings for your muse.

has the ability to make you feel like you're the only two people in the room; a wonderful conversationalist, she's always focused on your conversation. good with names AND faces. you're the center of her universe! insane interpersonal intelligence. / no qualms dropping her (parents) money on things. need a loan? sure! some say its buying affection, but hey, she'd do anything for a friend :) / extremely open-minded. realises when she makes a mistake, and is quick to apologise and do her best to learn from it. someone who can put her pride down easily! condescends unintentionally, even though she has nothing but the best of intentions. it’s just what being so out-of-touch with the working class folk does to you, unfortunately. / she eats. so. goddamn. slowly. like its actually terrible. she takes an hour to finish one sandwich, because she chews so carefully, and then wants to say something but refuses to talk because her mouth is full. your muse is offered a meal in exchange for an interview? expect to spend at least 2h, MINIMUM with her. in that vein, also no respect for others' time / you've probably caught on by now, but she is always her first thought. she'll take her own sweet time doing things, and hates being put on others' timeline. everything is framed through her experience, which is an extremely privileged one.

what is a book/tv series/movie/video game character that you feel your character relates to? (you can include who you would say they’re alike, and who they would say they’re alike.)

she was heavily inspired by daphne blake from scooby doo, and even her name's a homage to that! daeun would like how she stays true to herself (and has great style!) while still kicking ass! she thinks daphne was ahead of her time, retaining her femininity while still pulling her weight and being useful to the scoobies in her own way.

a relevant goal or arc for your character to overcome.

accept she'll probably never make her parents proud, fully accept and move on from that. also pay her own bills, damn. something something true independence....

anyway. pls like to plot and i'll slide into ims :^)

#yshqs:intro

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snowfolly · 5 months

Text

A Simple Life

Astarion x original f!Tav | one shot, 2,931 words

Astarion and Tali are taking a break from the road to stargaze for a moment. He reflects on what was and what could have been with his little gray songbird at his side.

Cw: references to Astarion’s past abuse, some cursing

Tags: tooth-rotting fluff, hurt/comfort, soft Astarion, post-game, headcanons, self-indulgent af, Astarion’s Pov

Notes: Headcanons galore about noble elves in Evereska and Astarion’s past- if that’s not your thing then this may not be the story for you friend! • No beta on this one-shot & I am certainly not a professional writer • Also just as a little side note- My Tav, Taliesin, is genderfluid and uses any pronouns. They have used a ring of opposite gender for around 60 years (which they use about half the time), so I write/draw them as either gender :>

Read on ao3

“Imagine though, if we had stayed back in Evereska we could have had a simple life, well, at least compared to the ones we’ve lived. Perhaps my bitch of a mother would have sold me off to your family to wed you — for a handsome dowry of course,” Tali mused, staring up at the night sky and the thumbnail of a moon that bled the faintest silver light upon the land, “can you even imagine? We would have been absolutely miserable.”

Astarion laughed, his arms behind his head as he laid upon the long autumn grass, the scent of comforting vetiver and leaf rot was strong but not unpleasant so close to the earth. He stared at the constellation Correlian just over the horizon, thirteen bright stars standing out amongst a million others, giving him some kind of vague nostalgia, although he couldn’t pinpoint why exactly. Likely something left over from his past, from the time before; broken memories that would sometimes seep through in the form of indefinite feelings.

“Oh certainly, we would have hated each other. I would have resented you, you’d have resented me, we’d keep to different rooms on opposite sides of our sprawling mansion. We’d drink too much, despise our jobs in the family business, take other lovers and hate each other for that as well. It simply would have been a grand old time!” he jested sarcastically, one hand on his chest and the other waving about for humorous emphasis before glancing over at Taliesin.

Tali was such a slight creature, dressed in an oversized ruby hued poet shirt and high black breeches, her long, cool gray hair was back in her typical loose braids, balled up unceremoniously at the nape of her neck and held in place with a red silk tie. She sat cross legged and leaning up against the trunk of a tree nearly barren of leaves, her violin propped up beside her.

“We would have bickered nonstop, both of us bored to death as we played our roles,” Tali made a dramatic gagging sound and sat forward, hugging her knees and resting her head on them as she glanced down at Astarion with an impish grin, “but here we are.”

“Indeed, here we are, love,” Astarion replied quietly, turning to lay on his side, better facing his partner.

“Just two elves that have been really shitty at being elves,” Tali conceded with a smile, and Astarion nodded with a slight eye roll. She certainly wasn’t wrong about that. Neither of them worshipped the Seldarine. Tali was as decadent as he, self absorbed and mean spirited at times as well.

They were both city dwellers and cared not for the woods, but while she had played her music in taverns and inns for over a century in Baldur’s Gate he had been prowling them as a vampire spawn for much longer. The only time they had frolicked in forests was out of necessity, to get from point a to point b.

Lying on the grass with her and staring up at the heavens, contemplating the vastness and meaning of it all was as elfy as either of them got, he supposed.

“So…what exactly would have been your fate if you had stayed home? Seeing as to how I wasn’t there to come sweep you off your stamping mad little feet?” Astarion asked, nodding his head rhythmically with each of the last four words out of his mouth and Tali shrugged, her face not showing a hint of perturbance, which was good. Her past, much like his own, could be a point of contention.

“I was arranged to wed a noble merchant’s son when we both came of age, poor boy was sweet as mead but dense as cow dung. You might have known him, he was a bit older than me and a smidge younger than you. Not a brain in his head. Spent all day elfing-about in the woods, absolutely loved all that shit. Thank the gods I had the wherewithal to run away.”

“A dire fate that would have been,” Astarion said with a half smile, his gaze distant, deep in thought.

Evereska was such an obscure, foggy memory for him. He had very little recollection of it but he could vaguely remember the sprawling estates in the upscale part of the city, and one of them, not so far from his own family home was Tali’s — a house of noble merchants.

“Do you remember what would have become of you if you had stayed in Evereska?” Tali asked him with a hint of hesitation, but it was a question he had anticipated after he had asked her the same so frankly.

Astarion stared off into the field, garnet eyes faraway, his head propped up on his hand as the gears in his mind turned, but they weren’t turning nearly as efficiently as he would have liked. They never did when it came to the past, to the time before.

“Well, I’m not sure what my parents had planned for me, if anything. I… I really just don’t remember. I know that I left when I was very young, and I don’t know if I left on my own accord or if I was sent off. I just recall that it wasn’t a positive farewell,” he said solemnly, glancing back at Tali who was absentmindedly playing with the grass under her right hand.

“Do you… ever plan to go back to see them? Your family?” Tali asked without looking toward Astarion, and he was glad for it. His face fell and his heart sank at her words. His family.

A few stray crickets brave enough to bear the autumn chill were the only sound heard between the two as Astarion stayed silent for some time while he processed Tali’s question. He knew that she was curious about his past, but she never pried or prodded and it was only fair to answer her truly now.

“I have thought about it, of course I have,” he swallowed, looking up at her with round, pleading eyes and then back up to the sliver of moon hanging above, “I don’t think I could face them. I don’t know that I could…”

Astarion stalled a moment, irritated at his hitching voice before taking a deep breath out of habit. Oxygen was useless to his undead lungs but necessary for all the talking, “they’ve thought me dead for over two hundred years now. I don’t even know them anymore, Tali. I’m positive I left on very poor terms, I was buried in the city after all and that never would have happened if…”

“You don’t know that,” Tali interrupted, grimacing as she locked eyes with him, “there could have been many reasons for that. I remember when you died… well, vaguely as I had no idea who you were then, but I do remember your family mourning.”

Astarion’s languid heart skipped a beat, he felt like he had been punched in the gut at this revelation. Tali had never told him that. Astarion had known that Tali knew of his family but never knew that they had mourned for him. He had never asked about something like that though, of course he hadn’t.

“They mourned?” he asked in a small voice as he rolled over on his back once again, feeling defeated, feeling empty, at a loss. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to hear any more of this. That part of his life was over anyway, dead in the ground like his kin thought of him, right?

“Of course they did. Your mother…” Tali looked at Astarion with a sadness that she rarely displayed, a look that hurt him further, and she must have picked up on his discomfort because she changed direction.

“Gods… I. Look , I was only a child but I remember everyone making a big deal of losing an elf so young,” Tali sighed, hesitating a moment more before continuing, “so I don’t think you left on awful terms, Astarion. If you ever wanted to go back…”

She was right… possibly. What if the negative recollection that he did have of his family was incorrect? It wouldn’t be surprising, as his memories of the time before were so shattered. But why would she even suggest going back to a place that she had run from for so long?

“You’ve been avoiding Evereska for how long now? A century?”

“One hundred and twenty two years thereabouts,” Tali said nonchalantly, taking a particularly hard blade of grass and poking Astarion with it in the side of his neck without warning.

“Gods, Tali, you little shit,” he growled, slapping at the grass with an irritated grin, “then why do you care if we ever go back? Your mother will have your head…”

“I don’t care about returning for myself you idiot, I care about what it means for you. For you to see your family, not mine,” she exhaled, ripping the long blade of grass in two with furrowed brows as Astarion glared at her momentarily before his eyes softened. He grabbed at her arm with his clawed hand, beckoning her wordlessly to his side.

Of course this was about him.

Tali was as selfish of a creature as Astarion was, unless it came to matters involving him, and then she was patient, she was generous and she was kind in ways that he knew that she sometimes felt vulnerable for. He could certainly relate to that, as he often felt the same way with her.

He couldn’t, however, quite understand why she loved him though. He would never be able to fathom why she chose to love him after he had threatened to kill her when they had first met, after every shitty thing he had done to try and manipulate her, after all the baggage he’d brought to the table, but he would not ever question her affection. He would accept her love gratefully, and give all of his in return.

Tali obeyed his beckoning hand and rolled over to his side without another word, lying against him with her head resting on the crook of his arm as he clutched the seemingly infinite amount of fabric of her oversized sleeve. They laid together in silence, watching the moon creep slowly above the grasping bones of bare branches for an indeterminate amount of time, and his mind lulled back to his atrocious past, as it was wont to do during stretches of silence.

And gods, he had endured so much silence in two hundred years, so many endless nights of hushed horrors. He found quietness in busy taverns hunting for prey, he heard nothing when his victims moaned in ecstasy under him, and when they were taken away screaming from the boudoir he would lay in silence, a million miles away. Worlds away.

Like the year he spent clawing and screaming into the dark… there was nothing but silence for so very long.

Astarion bit his lip, bringing his mind out of despair, reining his thoughts back to his gray songbird who chirruped love songs to him before every sunrise, his strange little pet, who could play every instrument put before her and made so much pleasant noise. Tali gave him so much joy, shared his wretched sense of humor, made him laugh every night with endless raucous stories and bawdy jokes. She filled his life with so much sound.

His little songbird now lay shivering against him though, and it pained him that he could provide her no warmth. He held onto her tightly as she clung to him, burrowing her head into the crook of his neck as he touched his lips to her silken hair, nearly loose from its red tie.

“I do appreciate you thinking of me like that, you know. I really do, love” he whispered to her and she nodded slightly, exhaling her warm breath against the cold flesh of his neck, sending chills over his skin.

“Of course. I love you. That’s what people do when they love each other, Astarion,” she said in way that could be construed as flippant if it wasn’t said so sweetly.

“Truly though, if you ever want to go back, we’ll go. Just say the word. I’ll be fine, my mother hasn’t sent anyone looking for me for twenty years or so. I’ll use my ring or something to lay low,” she yawned, “just say the word.”

He smiled into her gray hair, dark as charcoal in the low light, inhaling her scent, clean and floral, and he felt almost overwhelmed with it all. Not in a negative way at all though. Two hundred years of horror, neglect and misery had all led up to this moment of comfort, of truly being happy. He guessed that what he felt was overwhelming gratitude, for his freedom, for another chance at life, for her.

“Maybe if we ever find the cure for my condition…”

“When we find the cure,” Tali murmured, correcting him, and Astarion exhaled, knowing deep in his heart that the cure might not ever come, no matter how many years they searched — but he’d humor her anyway.

“Fine. After we absolutely, definitely, one hundred percent find the end to my curse then I'll think about going back. Perhaps. Maybe I’ll write them first, though. Wouldn’t want to give them a fright, thinking I was some sort of phantom,” he ventured facetiously as she curled up against him closer.

Astarion couldn’t feel the chill in the same way Tali could, and though she was no weakling he couldn’t help but worry over her being too cold. He shifted slightly, ready to announce that it was time to go when she spoke up in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Do you think it would have been so bad, really?”

“What?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, momentarily confused.

“If we had stayed home, if we had been arranged to marry. I was joking but really, it could have been possible you know. We’re not too far off in age.”

Astarion blinked, his mind going over an entire century of what very well could have been in just a moment. Gods how mad they both would have been at the prospect. But would they have really hated each other after they had gotten to knows one another? They hadn’t liked each other very much when they had first met nearly a year earlier, but now. Now he couldn’t picture his life without the little shit.

“I don’t think so. It wouldn’t have been so awful,” he answered quietly, holding her tighter, helpless to comfort her as she shivered slightly, “but we would have never stayed there.”

“Oh we wouldn’t have stayed at all. Never in a million years. But I don’t think we would’ve hated each other. I don’t think I could ever hate you,” she said groggily, and he smiled to himself as she continued, “do you think you could have hated me?”

“No, I don’t think I’d ever be able to hate you either, songbird,” he said without hesitation before pulling away from her slightly, causing her to protest with a groan.

“But it’s time to move on, pet. The next inn’s a few miles up the way, It’s getting early and you’re freezing to death. That won’t do.”

“Are you sure that you don’t hate me?” Tali whined, curling up into a miserable ball and clutching her hands at her chest as Astarion rose to his knees, beckoning her up.

“Get up. I know you’re hungry too. If the innkeep’s up and about we’ll get you a potato, butter, salt, the works. A glass of hot mead, mulled wine…” Astarion smirked as she opened her eyes wide, he knew that mentioning food, potatoes in particular, would do the trick.

“Well. Fine,” Tali finally relented, her hands reaching up to him with lethargic waggling fingers as he stood to pull her all the way to her feet.

They collected their belongings waiting at the base of the tree and Astarion dug a cloak out from her pack for her, placing it on her shoulders before they made their way back to the road in silence. Tali grabbed his hand as they ventured forth once again.

“We’d have been hand in hand getting the hells out of Evereska too, I think,” she said after some time, and he was amused that the subject was still on her mind, especially after putting the idea of hot buttered potatoes and mead in there. Astarion looked down at her, her rose hued eyes bleary but as spirited as always.

“Darling, they’d have been lucky if we didn’t burn the entire damned place to the ground before we left,” he said with a dismissive wave of his free hand and Tali laughed out loud.

“Oh, so lucky.”

The simple life would have never been for them, not in any way, shape or form. But perhaps if fate had brought them together so long ago they would have had an amazing century with one another, running all over Faerûn, getting into gods only knew what mischief. If only things had been different. If only he hadn’t died in Baldur’s Gate, hadn’t suffered for two hundred godsdamned years…

Tali squeezed his hand tightly, bringing him back from his dark thoughts once again.

Everything leading up to that moment is what they were given. Nothing could change the horrors of the past, but hand in hand they could now do their best to make up for all that lost time.

With Tali by his side everything would be alright.

#bg3 fanfiction #bg3 #headcanons #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #astarion x original female character #astarion x f!tav #astarion fanfic #astarion romance #astarion #God how many times can I write his name in one place #astaaaaariooooooon #snowyfic

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zu-is-here · 9 months

Note

Hey zuu

Oh hii Gayfish! (*'▽'*)

UPD:

Oh no reason to worry about it! (ówò) Your family comes first so there's nothing wrong in delaying <3

My bad I'm empty-handed either but happy birthday to the twins! (〃ω〃) Your latest reblogs with them are such a nostalgia ☆

How are you doing today? *^* Heheh yours is sooo cute too! Pink rulesss (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)♪

Take your time╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

Bruh!! It was such a mistake to use mascara cause I cried all my tears out in the end ;w; Did you like it?

OH yay!! (*ﾟ∀ﾟ*)

[spoilers for Barbie]

Ah I can feel you! (ówò)

Perhaps I didn't take it so politically cause Ken's attempts were more ridiculous than depressing to me, although there's a deep message here.

I guess this is not so much about patriarchy or matriarchy, but about the right to be whoever you want without being obligated to anyone?

That's what made me cry in the final, when Barbie asked her creator to be a human and not an idea and felt what it's like to be one ;w;

Oh!! (°▽°) I suppose it's really individual cause I didn't cry at all when I watched Everything Everywhere All at once, and while everyone was talking about how Great this movie is (it is! *^*), I was like "?? Well that was 60% crazy, 30% fun and 10% sophistic :'D"

Looks like it's controversial indeed ("ó3ó) What do you think would be a better ending? *^*

Pff true, she acted so good xp I also enjoyed Alan, he looks so confused the whole movie XD

Speaking of the other movie— did you watch Oppenheimer? *^*

Sadly no cause we can't watch it in cinema now :') But if they'll make it legal, I'll definitely go the second time all pink! \(//∇//)\

Oh these men ε-(´∀｀; ) Alternative? :0

Awww true! (〃ω〃) That's some real things <3

> Also no I haven't seen the other movie, but my friend has, and she really enjoyed it! So has jan!

This is not as exciting as Barbie is heh, but I'm a big fan of Christopher Nolan's films, and he nailed it again <3 (The adult scenes were superfluous though, but a man can have at least one in his career right? x)

[text ahead cause of the images limit xp]

> Alternative? You know like goth, punk things like that

Ah I see! (ﾟ∀ﾟ) Looks like it's not common for them in our modern world x)

> Other then the movie zu, how have you been? What you been up to?

Working on the next part of Trapped! (☆ω☆) Hopefully I can finish it before opening commissions, that's when the real work starts xp

Do you have other news to share? *^*

> Good luck with commisons zu!!

Nothing new, just been listening to phantom still, I wonder if there were any songs left out of the movie that you might not have heard

Thank youuu Gayfish! <3

So addictive (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)♪ Oh I wonder too *^*

> Recently I've been super into Notes and Notes twisted every way. As well as Why have you brought us here? Have you heard any of these before?

Woah— I don't remember listening to the first one! (°▽°) And I like how leitmotif repeats in the second one ☆ The voices are ssso good... *^*

> Oh! Did you just go off and listen to them now?? I love them to!! The way the voices mesh in the argument, and how christens name being repeated 3 times is a common motive.

Yesss! ♪ The musical must be better in terms of listening to them, cause in the movie, watching them steals almost all the attention :'D

> And the tunes of "His eyes will find me there, those eyes that burn"

Is the same as "hunt down this murderer, he must be found" in the finally

OH right!! (*⁰▿⁰*)

> It's also sad, how much the songs are starting to reflect christens trauma. She's so frightened, and his fear is growing ever strong, its twisting her perception of it all. All up until the point kf no return, and then the phantom singing all I ask of you.

The moment she realises that he knew about her and her lover the whole time. And she hears his true motive has truly been her the whole time, and she stands up and rips off his mask

Trueee, that was so intense in the movie as well ;w; Thought that's where the viewer knows that Erik saw them and knew about them, but the music shows it another way *^*

> I still haven't seen the movie, but the musical is spectacular visually as well.

I wonder if you'd enjoy the 25th anniversary recordings, it's very well shot.

The only thing that turned me off from the movie si that the phantom was cast for his appearance, not his voice, when it really should have been the other way around for a character who's a musical genius.

Awww I would! *0*

I've heard that many actors tried to get this role (Antonio Banderas as well?) and they took vocal lessons for this cause singing songs on their own was a prerequisite ☆

> Did you know that the longest running Broadway phantom played the role for 7 years? Almost every night for 7 years! The way they hop from one song to the next, his poor voice.

He got the biggest round of Applause at the end of the show

FOR real?? \(//∇//)\ That's crazy yet respectable!!

> One thing that was pointed out to me, which kinda kills alittle bit of the tension, js when Eric is over hearing All I ask of you, he's hiding behind the horses bottom, in the statue XD idk if makes me.laugh.

In the book he's ontop of a very high up statue, and it's a wonder he even heard them.

You know I've actually been to that oprea house

PFF well he's hiding after all xd You've been there?? (*ﾟ∀ﾟ*)

> Also I'm sorry if you are getting tired kf talking, idk if you are busy with trapped and would rather take a break?

Oh I really enjoy talking to you about them! *w* We can both take a break though, no rush anyway <3

> Well if you do wanna watch it, you can rent it on you tube. It's my favourite versionnnn.

Of course if you get the chance to actually watch it ! Do!

I'm going to be keeping an eye on it, waiting for it to return, Andrew said that it should come back, so if it ever comes back to London, I will tell you just in case it co-alines with a time you could visit!

I know I want to see it againnn.

Awww that would be amazing, thanks! \(//∇//)\

> Ok! We can take a break heh, sorryy

But I'll see if I can find a picture of the oprea house and send it over!

It's alright! (ówò) I'll be looking forward to it *^*

@help-im-a-gay-fish OH wow!! \(//∇//)\ This is a great photo, "catching a moment" <3

He did a really good work at trying to make it as real as possible though *w*

> Me ans Jan found a night tour of the opera housessss I think we might goooo

*GASP* That's awwwsome! (〃ω〃)☆

#updated #ask #zu is happy

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melrosing · 3 months

Note

What did you think of One Day? I like romcoms but I hate bad ones so don’t know if to watch it.

I liked it!! i think the two leads were strong and that it worked so much better as a limited series than that abysmal film adaptation lmao. it was well-paced and genuinely moving imo, and I think broadly manages to avoid cliché?? and where there are clichés, they're kind of affectionately included. so yeah, maybe it's partly my nostalgia for the book but I would recommend if you like romances. i think the way it's been adapted it's been stylistically inspired by Normal People more than anything, but it's still a romcom so

i only have one criticism (and it's mild cos whatever) but I think the tricky thing w One Day has always been trying to get the audience to suspend their disbelief on a public schoolboy like Dexter falling for working class Emma, and Nicholls (the writer of the original novel) gets around this with a lot of show-don't-tell. but this adaptation teeters slightly on 'tell' in the first episode, by including some scenes prior to that which the book begins with, trying to really sell what sparked this lifelong relationship. and just in those scenes alone, I didn't find it entirelyyyy successful. the banter was a little weak. you'd have expected to see them talking to each other like noone's ever spoken to them before and the dialogue is fizzing etc but it wasn't.

and so just speaking from experience at a uni similar to this one with a LOT of public (non-UK users read 'extremely expensive private') school kids who are honestly the most insular fuckers I've ever known - like never mind working class kids, middle class kids were too far below them to even bother speaking to lmao - it almost becomes less convincing if you try and explain what exactly about Emma drew Dexter out of those circles into a lifelong relationship. like sometimes maybe you have to leave that ambiguous to start with and just show over the course of the story. which ultimately it does, but bc of that shaky start it lets itself down slightly.

anyway i would recommend it's a good show imo

#ask #one day

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cannibalismyuri · 1 year

Text

the chances missed and the confessions said too late

the lights above the letters are glowing fast, hurried, urgent. its hard to be worried when nobody knows what's going on. eyes scrambling across the wall, trying to remember what words are, when the fear is crawling up his throat. its his family in there. its his mike. it was joyce's idea for the letters. after they were done painting them, she looked on with some sick nostalgia. missing fear when it was lighter. missing pain when it was sweeter. missing love when it was less readily available.

it's like with each cheap christmas light bulb that glows up, he can hear mike's voice spelling out each letter. feel the urgency and pure adrenaline powered determination behind his words.

I-T-S, pause, M-I-K-E

C-A-N-T T-A-L-K M-U-C-H

E-L W-I-L-L C-L-O-S-E G-A-T-E

I-T-S T-O-O L-A-T-E F-O-R M-E N-O-W

and something big rises up in will's throat. it tastes like bile, but it's probably hatred. god, he hates everything in that place. his fingers are itching with the desire to reach out. then he remembers he can't. and god...el and hopper need to come back alive, or he might just go insane. crazy together, but there's no together anymore. not really.

something big shifts inside will. and suddenly he's back there. stuck between the sides of the viewmaster. half here, but half there too. but he feels in control now. he did it on purpose, even though he doesn't know how. he can vaguely register joyce shaking him by the shoulders, screaming, desperate. she can't be left alone.

but mike is right there. he can be saved. will knows it. he needs to be saved. he's swarmed by demodogs. blood pouring out of a wound in his abdomen. he doesn't give up though. still batting helplessly at the demodogs. not accepting death when it was inside his house and eating a meal on the table, let alone at his doorstep.

that's who he was. even in death. stubborn, determined, loving, strong in so many ways. he loves him. god, he loves him. and he stood- paralyzed -as he died right before his eyes. vaguely registering more screaming from joyce and jonathan as well.

will feels numb. like somebody had poured a glass of cold water on top of him, but he felt nothing. and it feels too vivid, too real, like a nightmare. and maybe it is one. maybe all this is just an episode. being in a trance because of vecna and getting his soul ripped out of his body would feel better than this.

it feels vague and hazy at the same time. real, but simultaneously not. it feels white-hot. anger pooling in his stomach, electrifying his body to the tips of his fingers. and it seems like this is always the way its going to be. the universe will take everything he loves from him until there's no happiness left in the world.

in a split-second, there's a loud noise from another side of the forest, and the demodogs flood towards it. mike is left gasping, convulsing, trying to hold on to life with slippery fingers.

the reality of the situation kicks in, and will springs towards mike. he can't bear to see the light leave his eyes, but he also can't bear missing it. can mike see him? mike can see him. mike needs to be able to see him. will tries to speak but words seem to fail him.

mike tries to speak, strangled and half-choking, and all he gets out is, "will?" before he gets hit with a bout of coughing. blood comes along with his coughs. will is transfixed. its like watching a car accident happen, too terrible to look away.

and will manages to nod, his throat getting stuck on a sob, tears welling up in his eyes, refusing to fall out, refusing to let it be real, refusing to let boys cry. and mike tries to get his hands up to will's face. will helps him, his own hands slick with mike's blood while his hands cup his face.

mike manages to say a few words; his voice guttural and shivery, "i...i love you. i've always loved you. will, it's always been you, whether you knew or not. and im sorry i never said it. im sorry."

and will wants to scream and shout and cry until he has no tears left. he wants to say, you have nothing to be sorry about. its my fault, always has been.

will's face is wet with the blood on mike's hands and isn't that just perfect? mike choosing to mark will even while he slips away. the blood will never wash off. just another reminder that will could probably never love someone else like he loved mike.

and mike goes slack. his eyes seem lifeless. his hands limp. will can't feel anything anymore. just pain. anger. hate. grief. nothing. nothing anymore. and vaguely will registers that he isn't between the slides in the viewmaster anymore. hes back home. is it really home if mike isn't there?

joyce and jonathan bombard him with questions. will cant hear. will cant see. he can barely feel anything anymore. he looks at the binder mike had given him a few days ago. it was all of his drawings he'd ever given mike. mike kept them. he kept them.

will breaks down. choking on a strangled sob that forces its way out of his mouth. tears fall out of his eyes. he's kept them in far too long. he slinks to the ground, screaming, sobbing, feral almost. jonathan tries to calm him down. he hugs him. its all will can do to hug him back for dear life.

crazy together. yeah. there's no together anymore.

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that1emowitch · 9 months

Text

Fire #6 (Jason Todd & Child!OC)

Summary:

JAYROY JAYROY JAYROY (also Cass and Steph meet Nile, plot finally advances a bit more)

Rating: Teen & Up Audiences (there might be some swears and graphic descriptions of violence)

Word Count: 3359

A/N:

this was fun to write

Chapter 6: Harper

“JASON!” Nightwing screamed as he watched the green haze completely fill his brother’s eyes, as his body went limp and he fell to the floor. He sprinted forward and caught him, shaking him, trying to get him to wake up, but Jason didn’t move. He was barely breathing. “No no no—”

The deafening silence that followed sent a chill down Nightwing's spine. He cradled Jason's lifeless body in his arms, his heart pounding in his chest with a mix of fear and desperation.

"Come on, Jay, don't do this," he pleaded, his voice choking with emotion. He knew the torment of the Lazarus Pit was overwhelming his brother, but he couldn't bear the thought of losing him again.

Oracle's voice crackled through his comm, offering support and guidance. "Dick, we need to get him back to the Batcave immediately. Penny-Wise is on standby, and we'll have all the medical equipment ready."

Nightwing nodded, his eyes never leaving Jason's unconscious form. Batman carefully lifted him from his arms, feeling the weight of their shared history press upon him. He couldn't let go of the guilt he felt for not being there for Jason when he needed him most.

With a heavy heart, Batman gently carried his wayward son to the Batmobile. He carefully settled Jason in the backseat, feeling a pang of nostalgia as he remembered the days when Jason was a reckless teenager trying to steal the wheels of this very car. Where did all the time go?

Pushing aside his own feelings of failure, Batman focused on the road ahead. He couldn't let his emotions consume him, not when Gotham still needed her Dark Knight. His sense of duty and responsibility to the people of the city demanded that he remain strong and capable of protecting them.

Nightwing took his seat beside Jason, letting his head rest on his lap. Tears filled his eyes as he gently cradled his little brother. I can’t believe I didn’t realise he needed help before… Dick knew he hadn’t been the best brother back when Bruce first took Jason in— scratch that, he’d been the worst brother ever.

He’d been so mad that B gave his title, the name his mother gave him, to some random kid he picked off the streets. Robin had been everything to him, the only motivation for him to keep smiling and living, and Batman had taken that away from him. He’d been so angry. At Bruce. At Jason. Everyone. Only problem, it wasn’t Jason’s fault.

He made Jason feel like shit for being Robin. On purpose. His mind wandered to the day his relationship with him had completely shattered.

"I’m Robin, and being Robin gives me magic!" Jason's innocent words echoed in Dick's head, but he’d refused to let sentiment cloud his judgement. "Magic isn't real, kid," Dick retorted, his voice tinged with impatience. "And you're not actually Robin. I am."

The young boy, never one to back down, shot back with a snarky remark, leaving Dick feeling even more incensed. "Firstly, have you ever met Zatanna?" Jason challenged, his eyes narrowing defiantly. "Also, you were Robin. It's me now."

The words hit Dick like a punch to the gut. A wave of anger surged within him, threatening to consume him. How dare this boy claim to be the true Robin? He couldn't accept that his legacy was being usurped by someone so young and inexperienced. The pain of Jason's arrival in Gotham and his subsequent role as Robin that still haunted Dick, Bruce not even telling him he’d found his replacement, Dick having to find out there’s a new Robin while on mission, and now, confronted with this new and brash version of his former mantle, it was all too much to bear.

"You're an imposter, not the real deal," Dick snapped, his tone dripping with contempt. He couldn't hide the bitterness that seeped into his words. The weight of his years as Robin, the battles fought and sacrifices made, felt as if they were being diminished by Jason's presence. “Fuck off!”

He almost took back his words when he saw the younger boy flinch back, his face contorted with hurt. “I don’t care what you think, Dickhead,” Jason answered quietly before walking away.

He thought about that encounter for days, and he wanted to apologise, but that was the last time he saw him. He’d run off to Ethiopia just a few weeks later. When Dick was off-world with the Titans. He’d come back home, wanting to make up with Jason, just to find out he wasn’t here anymore. He was dead.

His grip on his unconscious brother tightened. I— I thought— when Jason came back, maybe I’ve got a second chance… I’ve gotta be the best big brother to him, to the others… But he’d failed miserably. He would have never known Jason wasn’t okay if Tim hadn’t told him. Jason doesn’t even trust me enough to tell me he’s got a kid.

“Jaybird…” He muttered, caressing his cheek. He was getting cold, his pulse was weaker than it should be. I’m not going to lose you again. “I won’t abandon you again,” he whispered, even though he knew he couldn’t hear him. “I promise.”

“Orphan,” Red Robin’s voice crackled through Cass’s comm. “You free?”

She glanced down at the crime lord she was tracking, her focus unwavering. “No.”

“Oh– Uh, well, once you’re done, do you wanna hang out?”

"Busy," she replied tersely, determined to stay on task. She had to gather as much intel as possible before confronting this criminal.

“I’m calling Spoiler too,” Her brother tried to persuade her. “We need to—”

"Red! No. Sorry." Her response was quiet but resolute. She couldn't afford distractions right now. I have to find out who this idiot’s working with first.

She heard Red sigh through the comms. “There’s a baby.”

She skidded to a stop, her heart skipping a beat. Did I hear that right? “Baby?”

“Yeah,” Tim laughed. “She’s our niece. You have to meet her.”

“...”

“So, you coming?” He asked once again, his tone amused.

“...yes. Five minutes.”

Nile was fast asleep when Cass arrived. Tim, on the other hand, looked extremely sleep-deprived. He’d filled her in on the entire situation on her way here, so she knew Jason had impulsively adopted an adorable little girl, but she hadn’t expected her to be so adorable. She somehow resisted the urge to squish her, not wanting to wake her up.

Tim sat on the counter, just a few feet from the broken glass where Dick had broken into the apartment. He was researching more about Nile while Oracle tried to track down Jason. He held a steaming hot cup of black coffee in his hand. He must’ve raided Jason’s kitchen.

She entered the house silently and stood by the open window, waiting for Tim to notice her. It took him a solid 5 seconds. “Hi,” He finally realised she was there.

“Slow,” she stated matter-of-factly, booping his nose. Someone could have killed him in those 5 seconds. Ignoring that for now, she turned her attention to the figure sleeping on the sofa. “Nile?”

“Yeah,” Tim smiled lovingly. “Adorable, isn’t she?”

“HI GUYS!” A chirpy voice sounded as a glittery purple figure entered.

“Shhh!” Tim warned, pointing to the sleeping Nile.

Steph gasped and covered her mouth. “oMg I’m so sorry…” She dropped her voice to a loud whisper. “Awww she’s so CUTE!!! Are you sure she’s Jason’s?”

Tim stifled a laugh. “She’s adopted, Steph. Just like most of us here.”

Cass smiled and took a seat beside the baby, deciding to watch over her silently. Steph walked over to Tim and snatched the coffee from his hands. “No more of that, Timbo. You’ll die of coffee overdose.”

“That’s not even a real thing!” He whisper-shouted, glaring at her.

“Sure is,” she countered, glaring back with more intensity.

Tim narrowed his eyes at her angrily but eventually broke eye contact. No one can win against Steph in a staring contest.

Huffing, he changed the topic. “You girls need to see this. It’s footage I recovered from Hood’s helmet. Of the guys who were holding Nile hostage.”

He turned the computer so everyone could see it. A video started playing, showing a warehouse on fire. Tim skipped forward a bit then paused at a shot that clearly showed the criminals. “Look at their uniforms. Do you recognise them?”

Cass quickly scanned their uniforms. Made to look like the League of Shadows attire, but not completely. No visible logos or symbols. Seems to be fireproof. “Not League,” she offered.

“Yeah, definitely not,” Steph agreed. “They’re way too rash, and they seem untrained. Like goons for hire. The League would never let these idiots work for them.”

Tim sat back, thinking. “Who else would—”

“GUYS!” Oracle’s voice crackling through their comms interrupted him. “Bat and Wing found Hood. He— he’s not in the best state of mind. They’re taking him to the Batcave.”

“What?” Tim’s voice filled with worry for his predecessor. “Is he okay?”

He could hear Babs sigh wearily. “No, not really… There’s more. I just intercepted an encrypted payment from an anonymous buyer to Carmine Falcone along with Nile’s photo. Given how easily all of you broke in, Jason’s apartment clearly isn’t safe enough for her…”

“Falcone? Someone’s willing to pay a lot of money just to get her,” Steph pondered, glancing at the sleeping girl. “But why?”

“Not the priority right now,” Oracle ordered them. “Take her to the Batcave first. She’s safest there. And… I think it’s best if she’s there when Jason wakes up.”

Cass nodded silently and lifted the girl into her arms, gently cradling her. “You’re safe,” She promised her, vowing to protect this innocent soul at all costs. The three young heroes quickly wore their masks and started packing up their equipment. Steph had the idea to bring along as many of Nile’s clothes and toys as they could so that the girl felt safe when she woke up. They were about to leave when suddenly Tim noticed a phone vibrating on a far end of the counter.

Jason’s phone. He left it here. He’d almost forgotten about it. Must’ve been on silent mode this whole time. He checked the phone to see 13 missed calls and a hundred texts from a contact labelled “Arsenal”

“Uh, guys?” He questioned, unsure whether to call back. “Arsenal— Roy Harper has been blowing up Jason’s phone for the last 10 minutes… Should we tell him what happened?”

“Of course we should,” Steph voted. “Isn’t he, like, madly in love with Jason or something? He deserves to know.”

Tim turned to Cass, waiting for her opinion. After a moment of hesitation, she nodded.

“Okay, then. Let’s get going. We’ll call him on the way.”

Tim was filled with dread as he clicked the ‘call’ button. I’m not good at talking to people I barely know, and now I’m supposed to explain to Roy Harper how his boyfriend had a mental breakdown because of me and is on the verge of death?

He wished Roy wouldn’t pick up.

Of course, his wishes weren’t granted.

“JASON?” Harper’s worried voice filtered through the speaker. “Why the hell have you been ignoring me? Wh—”

“Harper,” Tim interrupted. “This is Tim Drake.”

“Drake?” The confusion in his voice was clear. “Where’s Jason?”

Tim cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh– see, um–”

“WHERE THE HELL IS JASON?” The older man was clearly angry and impatient.

“In the Batcave’s med bay, half-dead.” Steph saved Tim with her blunt description. “He kinda had a complete mental breakdown. Pit Terrors again, I think.”

“What?” Roy’s voice broke. “Shit. I’m coming over. Tell Alfie I’ll be there in an hour.”

“Aren’t you in Star City? It’s like three hours away—” Roy hung up on them abruptly. Tim blinked, surprised. “Uh, okay…”

“WAIT, we forgot to tell him about Nile!”

“Where’re you going?” Roy heard his 7-year-old daughter ask him as he haphazardly packed a bag.

“Lian, sweetie, Daddy’s going to visit Uncle Jay-Jay, okay?” He pressed a kiss on her forehead.

“Uncle? I thought Jay-Jay was your boyfriend?” She quipped.

Roy's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "What? No, Lian, he's not my... Oh, never mind."

I kinda wish Jason was my boyfriend— that way, I could always be with him. I wouldn’t have to find out that he almost died from his little brother.

“Look,” He immediately changed the topic. “You’re staying with Dinah for a while. Be a good girl for her, okay?”

“When am I not good?” She asked, smiling and feigning innocence.

Dinah couldn't hold back her laughter from the doorway. "Don't worry, Lian, you're the sweetest little girl I've ever met."

Lian shot a triumphant look at her dad, as if to say 'see, I told you.' Roy sighed and rubbed his temples. This kid was a handful, and she definitely knew it.

He sighed and rubbed his temples. “No touching your bow or your arrows unless Dinah specifically says it’s okay, no going near anything that makes flames, no picking fights with your classmates. Oh yeah, and absolutely no candy after bedtime. You know how long you stay up if you eat candy at night.”

She frowned. “No, I don’t!”

Roy rolled his eyes. "Trust me, Lian, I've seen it. It's like watching a little Energizer bunny who’s taken five shots of pure caffeine."

Dinah chuckled and ruffled the girl’s hair lovingly. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t do anything like that, Roy. Don’t freak.”

“Ugh.” Roy zipped up his bag, finally done packing. “I’m leaving, okay? I’ll be back as soon as I can. Please don’t give Dinah too much trouble.” He gave Lian a warm hug and a little kiss on her cheek before heading out the door. With a little salute as a gesture of gratitude towards his adoptive mother, he disappeared from sight, making his way to his car.

The silence of the car seemed starkly different from the chaotic scenes at his house. It offered a rare moment of solitude, a chance to let his thoughts churn. Jason's face flashed in his mind, imagining him tormented by the Pit's grip. Why didn't he ever share this with me? Their last conversation was only a week ago, and back then, he appeared so... fine...

I don’t wanna think anymore… It hurts too much… He adjusted the volume knob on the radio, hoping the blaring music would drown out the cacophony of thoughts. Yet, they persisted, like stubborn ghosts haunting his mind. Love shouldn't hurt like this...

"Ugh!" The exasperated cry ripped out of him, a guttural release of frustration. He gripped the steering wheel tighter. This was ridiculous. Why did his heart have to be so damned loyal? Jason had moved on from whatever they used to share. It’s been more than a year.

"I'm such an idiot," he muttered bitterly to the empty car. "He doesn't feel that way about me anymore."

The words felt like acid on his tongue, a painful admission he'd been trying to avoid.

“Forget it, Roy,” He tried to coach himself. “He’s still your best friend. And he needs you right now.”

I can’t forget it, though.

“It can wait.”

Roy stormed into the Batcave, his concern overriding any sense of propriety in the moment. Worry had driven him almost mad during the agonising hour he'd spent waiting, trapped in the solitude of his thoughts. "Where's Jason!?" he demanded, his voice echoing off the cave walls, the tension radiating off him like an electric charge.

Alfred Pennyworth, ever the composed butler, stepped forward to intercept the agitated visitor. "Sir, please do try to calm yourself," Alfred said with measured patience, his British accent offering a soothing undertone to his words. "Master Jason is in the med bay. If you would allow me, I'll be more than happy to guide you there."

Roy heaved a sigh, collecting himself and realising he had no right to unleash his anxiety on Alfred. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice softening with genuine remorse. "I didn't mean to—"

Alfred waved off the apology with an understanding smile. "No need for apologies, Mr. Harper. Please, come with me."

As they walked to the med bay, Roy's heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of dread and hope swirling within him. And then, there he was—Jason, lying on the bed, swathed in bandages that seemed to cover his very soul. Tubes and monitors were the fragile threads keeping him tethered to life.

Tears welled up in Roy's eyes, blurring his vision as he took in the sight before him. The overwhelming wave of emotion threatened to drown him, but he fought to stay upright. Every beep of the heart rate monitor felt like a countdown, every shallow breath Jason took, a painful reminder of their shared past and his fragile present.

"He had several untended wounds that he must have ignored for days," Alfred's voice carried a weight of sorrow and regret as he provided Roy with the grim details. The butler's normally composed demeanour seemed to falter, revealing the depth of his concern for the young man lying unconscious before them. "We only discovered his Pit Terrors yesterday. It… It was nearly too late."

Roy's breath caught in his throat at the revelation, his mind reeling from the implications of what he was hearing. The image of Jason, suffering in silence, weighed heavily on his heart. He struggled to process the whirlwind of emotions that surged through him—worry, anger at himself for not realising sooner, and a profound sadness for the pain Jason must have endured.

Alfred's comforting hand found its way to Roy's shoulder, a gesture of support that managed to convey the elder man's understanding of the younger's turmoil. Roy's own emotions threatened to overwhelm him, and he felt his eyes welling up again. It was a battle just to find his voice amidst the storm inside him. "Thank you, Alfred," he managed to choke out, his words carrying a blend of gratitude and vulnerability.

With a gentle squeeze, Alfred offered a reassuring smile. "Feel free to take your time, Mr. Harper. I'm sure Master Jason would be pleased to wake up and find you here."

As Roy stood by Jason's bedside, watching the rise and fall of his best friend's chest, he wished more than anything that he could share his strength, his will to fight, and his unwavering support. His grip on Jason's hand was tight, fingers intertwining as if to physically convey the depth of his connection.

With each stroke of his thumb over Jason's palm, Roy hoped for a sign, a flicker of response that would break through the stillness that enveloped the room. Hours passed, marked only by the monotonous beeping of the heart monitor, each sound echoing like a countdown in his mind. Time seemed to stretch into an eternal moment of waiting, his heart heavy with longing.

His voice, a desperate whisper in the quiet room, held a mixture of pain and vulnerability. "Please, Jason… I can't lose you like this." His words hung heavy in the air, carrying with them all the unsaid feelings he had held close for so long.

"Man, there's so much I haven't told you. I need you to wake up... I need to tell you how much I love you."

A choked sob caught in his throat as the weight of his emotions became too much to bear. Tear-filled eyes remained fixed on Jason's still form, as if willing his friend to hear, to respond. "I love you so much, Jay... Please..."

The truth hung in the air, his admission raw and unfiltered. He wasn't sure if Jason could hear him, but he needed to say it, to let the words out into the universe. In the midst of his despair, Roy's grip on Jason's hand tightened even further, a physical manifestation of his anguish, of his plea for life to return to his beloved.

Suddenly, Roy felt his hand being squeezed back. His head snapped up as he rushed even closer to the bed. “Jason?”

A/N

JAYROY JAYROY JAYROY

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butterflies-and-bumble-bees · 1 month

Note

SO.

what's your favorite analogue horror series??

hmmm that's a toughie

I think I'm gonna have to go with Mystery Flesh Pit National Park with a second place to Monument Mythos and third to White Stag Education

I just really love Americana. I also have a very strong nostalgic connection to the National Parks System from visiting at least one of them every year (I've been to some of them two or three times cause we only really ever went to the ones w/in a days drive up until I was older cause my mom didn't want to make me sit in the car for two days straight {my dad would've loved to drive cross country once a year as a vacation}) so Mystery Flesh Pit National Park and White Stag Ed. hold a special place in my heart.

Similarly, I have fond memories of visiting several of the American Monuments mentioned in the monument's mythos series.

So yeah - I'm a sucker for nostalgia bait

#tea talks

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the-jellydex · 11 months

Text

The Vancouver Aquarium

Recently, I had the privilege and honour of visiting the Vancouver Aquarium!! It was very nice, and I'd like to give my honest review :)

Jellyfish Exhibit Rating:

Diversity - 7/10 - Only limited to Rhizostomeae and Semaeostomeae jellyfish (no combs or hydrozoans), but they get extra points for showing the rare "Stalked Jellyfish"

Presentation - 7/10 - Most exhibits had more jellyfish per square meter than normal so it was very pretty. One seemed kind of sad though.

Learning - 10/10 - Accurate information paired with engaging visuals, along with dedicated and knowledgeable staff. Here's a shout out to Noah I love him so much 🙏🙏

can we also appreciate how at every opportunity they get, the staff will thank the indigenous nations by name (there are multiple) that have owned and taken care of the land that the aquarium resides in? I respected that a lot haha.

So to start... I believe we entered at an auspicious day (even though it wasn't the weekend, when the jelly touchpool tanks are open)

That's right!! A local school was visiting the aquarium at the same time we were ^-^!! How exciting is that? I felt so much nostalgia haha... I wish I could've done something like this in elementary school ;w;

OK, so going into the aquarium I was already very excited, and seeing this made me gasp !! :>

(unfortunately, I spooked my mother, so um. Yeah)

Unfortunately they 1) Do not currently show the Phacellophora camtschatica in the aquarium and 2) call it the "Fried Egg Jelly" (actually, it's not too big of a deal but I prefer to call it the "Egg Yolk Jelly" since the Mediterranean Jelly resembles a fried egg.

Hey, did you know that the Association of Zoos and Aquariums recently released a jellyfish care guide? I ended up quoting it when I talked to one of the staff, hehe

Now, most of their exhibits are divided by world region- but the jellyfish (as with most exhibits it seems) are grouped into one... except for the Papua Jellyfish, which is the first tank placed in the Tropical Exhibits.

It's verrrry large (larger than any rhizostomid exhibit I've seen) and there are many, many jellyfish! Unfortunately the strong light and deep blue background made it pretty difficult to get good individual pictures (all of mine came out blurry :<), but they were so cute and small.

The jellies often bumped into the ground, and one was swirling around on the bottom, unable to get back into the flow (perhaps it was in-between the two circular currents?). Anyways something told me that this exhibit wasn't as well-looked after as the other ones :<

I did see a couple of really broken ones (sorry for the bad lighting, but here was a jellyfish that had most of its bell ripped up), and it just broke my heart. Most of the jellyfish were in fine condition, though, so I think it's just the normal ripped bells and appendages that you can find in any jellyfish exhibit.

Curiously enough, however, this exhibit shows information cards for three different jellies when in reality there is only one species (The "Spotted Jellyfish") in the tank. I'll explain my theory why later when I get to them.

JELLYFISH HALL!!! There are many glowing sea nettles hanging from the ceiling, along with two life-sized lion's mane jellyfish!! :). The lion's manes also glow in different colours.

Also, if you notice, there's a very large crowd gathered in front of the sea nettle exhibit- and that's because I was INCREDIBLY, INCREDIBLY lucky to stop by RIGHT when they were doing a live jellyfish feeding. I cannot even begin to articulate how fortunate I was to accidentally stumble upon this.

Anyway, here's the obligatory jelly card haha :)

Here is speaker Noah, a 3rd year in his Marine Conservation degree showing us how amazing jellyfish are. I appreciate him a lot he gave me a lot of good information, which I'll just list down here:

The liquid inside of the measuring cup is in fact Jellyfish Food!

Usually, they are fed Artemis sp. naupili (sea monkeys, as he said it, or brine shrimp), but there were some other goodies added into the mix as well- like squid and herring.

This was all mixed in with a bit of gelatin- as sea nettles prefer to eat their food in bigger chunks.

These sea nettles are not fed with moon jellyfish- though the AZA Jellyfish Handbook does recommend to do that since sea nettles are medusivoric, and require jellyfish in their diet to grow properly. Apparently, the gelatin acts as an adequate substitute ^-^!!

Also Noah knows about the Monterey Bay Aquarium let's give him a round of applause ^-^!!! He said i should go there but. Well. I already did :3.

I could've went into more detail about the Cnidocyte explanation, but I'm probably not the best person to be teaching total beginners and children about jellyfish because I'd be way too technical (I was literally the only person in the crowd who was cheering lmao).

Here's a screenshot of the feeding video I took! (I'll upload the full feeding video if there's popular demand for it haha)

Anyways, after that excitement... it was time to look at the rest of the jellies.

This was the sign in front of the moon jelly exhibit. I just thought it was interesting to see what the aquarium defined as "Jellyfish" (this definition can vary from aquarium to aquarium) Here, we can see that the Vancouver Aquarium considers Comb Jellies, Molluscs, and Salps as jellyfish. (this is more inclusive than my own personal definition- which excludes molluscs haha)

There was a bigger tank (that I did not take a full picture of... stupid Donut) that did include the Mediterranean and Australian Spotted jelly. They actually looked... a lot bigger in person than I thought, haha.

Now, I think the reason why these jellies were not roomed with the Papua jellies was because while they were originally a part of the exhibit, the two jellies actually outgrew the tank became too big to room with the small Papua jellies. These were housed in a tank that was about as big (if not bigger) than the Papua jelly tank- and there were not as many jellies per square meter in here.

Still weird that they kept the information cards about the jellies though... I guess it would've been too unsightly to remove?

Ok, I also forgot to take a full view picture of this exhibit but don't be fooled by the pretty jellyfish. This exhibit was kind of... lacking, imo. I can only really describe it with a diagram of sorts.

This is a circular tank, but I'm guessing there were two opposing currents on either side. All of the sea nettles had migrated to the right current, making that half look too crowded and the other side completely empty. It didn't help that when all of the jellyfish were on the very shaded bottom, the entire tank was dark :(.

// Can we just say that them mentioning one of the Japanese names of the jellyfish is AWESOME? I've only seen this on the japanese wikipedia haha- though there was no mention of "Ninjas," only in military warfare in the Sengoku Period by Sanada Nobushige. Well. I'll correct my statement if it ends up being wrong later.

Quick break to visit my hero, Mackenzie Neale :). I'm a big fan of your work!!

Alright, now to visit the Moon jelly exhibit (it was honestly one of the most densely packed tanks I had ever seen- very impressive :>)

I made an instagram reel going over the sexual dimorphism of moon jellies- maybe I'll post it on here if I feel like it haha :3

^^ They have more infographics like this but this is the only one I took a picture of... awe :<.

OK, so with all of the main jellyfish out of the way... now started the hardest part of my journey: Finding the elusive, rare Staurozan (Stalked) jellyfish. These are so rare, apparently they're difficult for even scientists to get their hands on. I absolutely had to see them for myself.

Unfortunately... I kept running around in circles trying to find it (I had asked a staff member earlier where the exhibit was... but I forgot lol. I ended up having to ask two more people. It's tucked away in an unmarked Polar exhibit btw :>!!

Here was the gift shop I ended up visiting, there was a Japanese Sea nettle with a heart on it- awww

Anyways, I promise, after like 20 minutes of searching... I finally found the polar exhibits!!

They had (one) hydrozoan jellyfish here... and it was a picture. An unnamed picture. For the record, it's called the "Battering Ram Jellyfish," according to Lisa-Ann Gershwin. It's a part of the Narcomedusae group, which have similarly positioned tentacles.

And now, in another fit of I did a dumb... I didn't take a picture of the two wall tanks... because the Vancouver Aquarium HAD to be confusing with them for some reason :/

this is the tank on the left! It has the Stalked Jellyfish card......... but the tank itself has NO Stalked Jellyfish...? I had NO idea why and it's driving me mad.

This tank was to the RIGHT of the tank with the card (ie. A TOTALLY SEPARATE TANK), BUT THESE ONES WERE THE ONES THAT HAD STAUROZOA?????... I have no words.

I actually ended up noticing them first because of their weird "firework-like" structure was different from the other corals, but I didn't know if they were actually staurozoa until I saw the card. Anyways, very confusing, but definitely the most magical and rewarding experience you could have in the aquarium. I'll leave out the directions to find this place so if anyone decides to visit the aquarium, they can just look for the staurozoa themselves :>

... and finally, that ends our jelly tour of the Vancouver Aquarium. Before you head home, though, why not pick up a cute little eco-friendly jelly plush on your way out?

She's a beauty, that's for sure!

#.aquarium reviews #.professor jellyfish speaks #jellyfish #pro tip: order tickets ahead of time. We paid $30 CAD more than we could've because we bought on the day of #by the way! this is the first time I've seen a Mediterranean Jelly in person. I'm in awe... they're so beautiful #also if you have a student id. BRING IT. There's student discounts :)#phacellophora camtschatica #aurelia aurita #cotylorhiza tuberculata #chrysaora fuscecens #mastigias papua #phyllorhiza punctata #chrysaora pacifica #lucernaria sp.#you have NO idea how happy I am to be tagging lucernaria this is the highlight of my entire trip istg

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