Asat Pramad is a girl dad. He’s not the demon lord from beyond, he’s the father lord from beyond.
I’m not kidding, I’m not even joking. Asat is doing a really bad job when it comes to defying elation because just like the fools he has been using a mask (Ryusuke) to live aspects of himself he fet he couldnt
PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE PLEASE check out Arcadian chronicles volume 4 the motherfucker invaded our tabloid to give an interview and itd the funniest most endearing thing ever since aha THEMSELF.
I have no theories or conclusions, but something is very clear. Asat was every bit genuine when he was pretending to be Ryusuke. I will bet my life fed to the tumourous carcass that is shuhu that he wore a mask exactly for the purpose of managing to be a less shitty dad compared to his first attempt
I chose the more mature dialogue choice for Trailblazer and March started getting worried that the Trailblazer's growing maturity was a sign that she would get "left behind" and that we wouldn't click like we used to anymore. 🥲🔫
“my— my mama works good. good job.” kyros breathes into the tiny microphone Mr. Raf handed to him.
big, thoughtful eyes blink at the camera awaiting the next prompt while his teacher tries to clarify. “no, yes. sure. but what is she doing a good job on?”
kyros opens his mouth, then closes it, unsure. after sorting through a few thoughts, he presses his lips to the mic again and says, “good job on… uh, work.”
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
“mama fights.” lucian chews his words, speakers popping at his loud voice. “mama go hurt things.”
“hurt?”
“yes. and do good job.” lucian nods, also staring at the camera. as if to challenge anyone who thinks otherwise.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
“hi, i’m lucian and kyros’s mom, and i am a Hunter for The Hunter’s Association.” you say, a little bashful at the answers they provided. “I—I hunt, not hurt. Well, I also hurt, but—but wanderers! Not people. Or— well— Rafayel, stop recording!”
“what do you think your dad does at work?”
“beez-nez.” kyros struggles to wrap his tongue around the word but relays enough to understand.
“like… stocks?”
“ya, he wear socks.”
“like what kind of business, kyros?”
poor kyros looks like his brain blast will injure him. but in a snap of memory he has heard his father sneer at people on the phone, he exclaims. “ah! none!”
“huh?”
“none-your-beez-nez!” he claps happily for remembering. “i do good job!”
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
“phone— and, and trinkies— and! like, drinks.” lucian lists, twisting his shirt around his hands and swinging side to side.
“does he own a bar?”
he lifts the front of his shirt randomly over his face. “bar? what dat?” Rafayel panics to pull it back down.
when lucian’s face emerges, he says, “papa has a gun.”
“what—“
Mr. Raf has never met the guy, but now he worries what these kids have to witness at home. their father, skye, will be coming to pick them up later, and so he braces for the worst.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
“I’m lucian and kyros’s papa.” sylus states, deadpan into the camera in his three piece tailored armani, but radiating with pride at the statement. “and I sell fruits.”
Rafayel falters with the camera and shoots the little ones a look over his shoulder, tired. they blink up at him with identical, thoughtless red orbs that matches their strange father’s and wave.
Thomas lied. Ooh, kindergarten is an easy, fun, break-from-your-routine, might-inspire-you-to-paint kinda gig— not.
He makes that known, later that day. Loud and clear.
“Thomas, what the hell do you think I do for work?”
i block ppl all the time so my blocklist ranges from "actual fucking asshole fascist" n "post that mildly annoyed me because im petty" and if i went thru my blocklist rn i probably would have no idea why i blocked each of them but whatever
My HSR hot take is that Penacony's metaphors are harder to understand than Amphoreus'.
Amphoreus as a planet deeply tied to Erudition and Remembrance:
> nouspore grows into tree.
>Tree needs a a seed to grow.
> Tree is deeply tied to the process of learning and knowledge
> Who is the seed of Amphoreus? Cyrene duh.
> The flower is a symbol of innocence and beauty.
> The flower is made of glass, emphasizing it's ties with remembrance and the value of memory.
> The Demiurge and Cyrene often use the flower to symbolize the Demiurge's innocent state.
> The shattering of that flower is the breaking of that perfect innocence, but along comes with it the ability to "capture" and "reflect" new "lights" and memories. The shattered glass flower is symbolic of Cyrene's growth from her stasis.
Meanwhile Penacony... I swear I at least understood it while I was playing the Main Quest but specific wordings in the Finality mission threw off.
> "Why does life slumber?"
> "Because one day, we will wake up from our dreams!"
> What??? What does this answer mean???
> Unless like sleep is representative of death, and death is a symbol of pain and suffering
> then this might make sense to what happened in the main quest??
> Tbh the only takeaway I got from Penacony was that people should be allowed to make their own decisions to pursue their dreams, even if that path is filled with pain and suffering.
> I'm sure that's the point of Penacony but I genuinely cannot remember how to connect it's metaphors together. (Except for the Charmony Dove)
Well the whole thing about Penacony was that it was it was a world inside a dream. A glamourous luxurious world. Where anyone can be anything or anyone.
So when Sunday asks, "Why does life slumber?", hes not so much looking for an answer, but moreover already experienced and accepted the nuance that is living a real life.
So, He has decided for everyone, that since life is so bad, its not worth it to live in real life, its better to live in a happy dream.
The traiblazer telling him the answer of what makes the dreamland so wonderful, so exciting, so happy is not cause it is permanent, but rather cause its not.
So comes the line, "Because one day, we will wake up from our dreams."
Cause thats true. Even the sweetest dream is only cause we will wake up in the morning, and be ready to face our real life.
And even if sunday provided everyone an enternal paradise. Eventually, people will grow bored of it. Cause when you are always happy. Are you ever truly happy?
Similar metaphors are with the smile society in planarcadia. Where we talk about what happiness is? And how fulwish erasing pain doesnt actually make happiness.
Cause happiness isnt the absence of pain, but rather true happiness is experienced despite the pain. The hardships and the struggles only make the happiness more sweet.
Life cannot be sunshines and rainbows, we need the black clouds of sorrow to allow us to cherish the happiness.
Thank you for your thoughts, but still... It's such a confusing sentence to follow...
I don't know what the original Chinese said, but from an English writing perspective it's not a sentence that really seems to give clarity or make its point clear.
But I agree that Planarcadia is very similar to Penacony in that it's in a way related to facades and illusions created by desires. But at least Planarcadia makes more sense to me imo. After all, a huge part of the Elation Path's aesthetic is related to theater.
And if a theater is a spectacle, then what is the modern world in not an entire spectacle?
But compared to Penacony where desires are more like a drug as a form of escape, desire in Planarcadia is inherently tied to its existence in the form of Wishpower.
I've been really enjoying Planarcadia recently. It feels like an evolution of Penacony's philosophies in some way.
My HSR hot take is that Penacony's metaphors are harder to understand than Amphoreus'.
Amphoreus as a planet deeply tied to Erudition and Remembrance:
> nouspore grows into tree.
>Tree needs a a seed to grow.
> Tree is deeply tied to the process of learning and knowledge
> Who is the seed of Amphoreus? Cyrene duh.
> The flower is a symbol of innocence and beauty.
> The flower is made of glass, emphasizing it's ties with remembrance and the value of memory.
> The Demiurge and Cyrene often use the flower to symbolize the Demiurge's innocent state.
> The shattering of that flower is the breaking of that perfect innocence, but along comes with it the ability to "capture" and "reflect" new "lights" and memories. The shattered glass flower is symbolic of Cyrene's growth from her stasis.
Meanwhile Penacony... I swear I at least understood it while I was playing the Main Quest but specific wordings in the Finality mission threw off.
> "Why does life slumber?"
> "Because one day, we will wake up from our dreams!"
> What??? What does this answer mean???
> Unless like sleep is representative of death, and death is a symbol of pain and suffering
> then this might make sense to what happened in the main quest??
> Tbh the only takeaway I got from Penacony was that people should be allowed to make their own decisions to pursue their dreams, even if that path is filled with pain and suffering.
> I'm sure that's the point of Penacony but I genuinely cannot remember how to connect it's metaphors together. (Except for the Charmony Dove)
Well the whole thing about Penacony was that it was it was a world inside a dream. A glamourous luxurious world. Where anyone can be anything or anyone.
So when Sunday asks, "Why does life slumber?", hes not so much looking for an answer, but moreover already experienced and accepted the nuance that is living a real life.
So, He has decided for everyone, that since life is so bad, its not worth it to live in real life, its better to live in a happy dream.
The traiblazer telling him the answer of what makes the dreamland so wonderful, so exciting, so happy is not cause it is permanent, but rather cause its not.
So comes the line, "Because one day, we will wake up from our dreams."
Cause thats true. Even the sweetest dream is only cause we will wake up in the morning, and be ready to face our real life.
And even if sunday provided everyone an enternal paradise. Eventually, people will grow bored of it. Cause when you are always happy. Are you ever truly happy?
Similar metaphors are with the smile society in planarcadia. Where we talk about what happiness is? And how fulwish erasing pain doesnt actually make happiness.
Cause happiness isnt the absence of pain, but rather true happiness is experienced despite the pain. The hardships and the struggles only make the happiness more sweet.
Life cannot be sunshines and rainbows, we need the black clouds of sorrow to allow us to cherish the happiness.
“a’mama?” lucian murmurs, peeking his head into the dark bedroom. you see the glow of his eyes, moonlight bouncing off his pretty red jewels just right to make them shine.
you don’t respond, in fear of scaring him. he doesn’t need to see his mother this way— sniffling and hiding like a wounded animal. what a terrifying sight for such a little cub.
“mama?” his whispers get a little louder. you shift in your blankets and quiet your sobs. “mama, is me, woosi.”
your lungs can only hold so much air after the trauma its endured. bad days at work don’t only involve irritation and disagreement, but harsh beatings from other worldly beings too. wanderers getting one too many hits in, sluggish responses to too quick offenses lead to more painful clock outs.
today was not a good day. days like this weren’t uncommon, but it still twists your heart knowing you could have done better. could have been stronger or faster or smarter. days like this just always sent you into a spiral of not doing enough. of not being enough.
and lucian did not need to see this.
but lucian says, “mama.” louder now. just by the edge or the bed. “hello?”
“lucian.” you finally respond, voice raspy and raw. “go to papa.”
he frowns and weighs a thought. “don’want papa. want you, mama.”
“mama, eated?” he asks, glad to know now that you are awake. “mama, i get—i get nana? for you?”
“i’m okay, my angel.” you grumble, hiccuping back the cries that are triggered from his clueless compassion. “i’m not hungry.”
“mama sick?” lucian’s voice tilts into something somber and sad. now he tries to grip the duvet and climb the mattress to you. your heart beats like thunder.
“no, lucian—“
he makes his way up the slope, practiced and proficient, and crawls all the way over to you.
biting your lip enough to draw blood, you hide your face in the pillow, only allowing one eye to sight him. “lucian, listen to mama. go to papa.”
“no,” he plants himself firmly on the pillow beside your head and pats your clammy forehead. “mama sicky, need medicine.”
you catch his small fingers in your hand and hold it on his lap. “not sick, honey. i’m okay.”
he’s quiet for a while. the thought too profound to know why, he doesn’t seem to believe you. so he guesses again. “mama, bad day?”
your sinuses burn. softly, you ask. “what?”
“bad days no good.” he says. his voice of sympathy sounding all too familiar. he slides himself under the covers and squeezes himself in the space between your chest and the pillows. “bad days make woosi cry. is mama cry?”
there are weights on the corners of your lips, and smoke behind your eyes. the moonlight, once again, strikes his features so elegantly you’d think heaven sent a real angel for such a feeble soul. fresh air to your fumes. a gentle whisper to your silent tantrum.
the next sharp inhale you cannot hide, and in its trembling exhale lucian’s question is answered.
“i’m sorry, mama’s just…” you can’t explain. a bad day is true, but somehow it is not enough to encompass it all. and in his humble persistence, it feels like he deserves to know nothing short of that.
his hand, smelling of blueberries and milk, comes up to caress your hair. and his cheek falls onto the pillow before your one peeking eye. “s’okay, mama.”
“mama’s just very tired.” you whisper, turning your face to him. “and being tired makes me sad.”
“sad okay.” he says, wise beyond his years. you don’t have the time to wonder how. “sad now-mal like happy. sad is—is opposite!
“sad im…im-pow-tant too.”
he sounds so proud of himself for remembering. your fingers curl around his again and you kiss his palm. “yes, you’re right.” you take a breath. “mama is sorry for crying.”
“papa say no sorry for cryin.” lucian whispers to you like a secret. “papa say cryin is good, and cryin okay. helping— helping, uh, sad go out body.”
you smile. “he said that?”
“a-huh,” he snuggles closer. “and huggies help too.”
finally, like a bloom in spring, you uncurl yourself from your ball and wind your arms around the little body that has come to save you. “okay. let’s test that.”
his bell-like giggles are almost enough to flip your mood entirely when he is tickled by your closeness. never mind the ache in your ribs or the twinge in your neck; this pain is outmatched by the weight of your loving boy in your arms.
“yay,” he murmurs quietly when your sobs turn to small giggles. “i helping.”
you sigh, deep and freeing. “you are, my angel. i needed this, thank you.”
he shuts his eyes, and takes in a breath. “and woosi needy mama.”
the world shifts. tilts back from its skewed axis into its rightful place. all thanks to a child, so strong to have lifted the weight of it, to remind you that you will always be enough.
I'm just thinking about those two little angels. Theyre soo little...and then I imagined
What if they inherited Sylus's tall genes
In that somehow these twins are taller than their father.
(An uncle of mine was over 182 cm or something . His son towered over him at 200.66 centimeters)
I'm sure its been talked to before but Sylus having to look up at someone is honestly an astonishing thought
OOO they could be taller than papa!!! (˶◕.◕˶) they'd never stop picking on him about it if they were. you'd even tease him about the neck strain you had to deal with all these years looking up at him if youre shorter. this is his karma.
but no matter how much they gloat, sylus will always see them as his little babie sons :<
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