ok you know what's going on with revue starlight i need help with it because i gotta calibrate my expectations before i watch it, so. i have NEVER been able to tell- are they ACTUALLY fighting each other to the death? is it an allegorical, dream-sequency kinda thing? are these stage fights? please help you always post so much cool skrs stuff whenever new installations come out but without an answer to this question i CANNOT watch it because i Do Not Know what frame of mind to be in. thank you for your time. i hope you enjoy the upcoming movie.
Okay, well hrrngngng this is a difficult question because it sort of depends on which part of the franchise youāre talking about...Ā (spoilers ahead too)
The game is very slice-of-lifey with more than a few odd and dramatic events, most of which can only be explained because of the revue/underground stageās unique ālogic.ā The anime explains the rules of the revues and the giraffeās stage to an extent as well, but a lot is left to personal interpretation. (In my fics for example, I sometimes write them as shared dreams or a collective unconscious sort of thing, but their bodies and minds are really experiencing everything, and other times I have them actually physically visit the elevator in the school building that brings them down to that stage).
In terms of the 'fighting to the deathā, the anime was very tame, as they say āfight for radiance.ā When a Stage Girl beats another, she steals some of her radiance/ability to act/perform, which doesnāt actually endanger her life, per se. The anime only ever showed one drop of blood (until the end of Rondo, where it was literally a full-on bloodbath, clearly to effectively shock the audience who had only seen a single drop in the 12 episodes until then).Ā
However, The Show Must Go On manga and the live stage plays are much more intense and a bit violent (Maya literally stabs Claudine through in one of their fights, and in her fight with Nana in āUragiri no Creteā she cuts both her arms really severely).
But overall, no one dies (so far...) and the general consensus is that, yes, the revues areĀ allegorical, dream-sequence fights. The universe has its own rules with time travel and becomingĀ āparts/rolesā of different stories/worlds, so it doesnāt really have to make total sense (the talking giraffe, for instance).Ā
But the girls do discuss the revues in their day-to-day lives (even though theyāre warned they arenāt supposed to) so the events that happen in the fights are acknowledged in the everyday world as well. But for the most part, school life events and revues are separate, but related.
I know this doesnāt help that much hahaa Starlight is sort of a free-for-all franchise in terms of letting your imagination run wild. But it does have its own rules and regulations; they just arenāt concrete.
Hope this helps! More people definitely need to get into Starlight asap!!
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is the cosmology of Eonera weird (multiple suns/moons, the sun(s)/moon(s) are actually gods, it's got rings, it's flat, etc)? If so, weird how, and does it affect the world at all?
Itās got two moons and a slower year cycle. 13 months of 35 days each.
The first time Rukia stumbles into the place, sheās exhausted and cold, bloodied and bruised, wanting only a place to hide, a place to curl up to lick her woundsā
āWelcome to Priceless Tales, how can Iā¦ oh!ā a startled voice greets her ā and isnāt that odd? Sheād thought the city abandoned to the Hollows, soā¦ so why is a civilian still here? ā followed by the sound of bare feet on wood, andā
Rukia drags her gaze up, gathering her strength to chide the woman for remaining behind, and freezes.
Thereās somethingā¦ odd about the woman approaching her, somethingā¦ something on the edge of her senses, like a storm just over the horizon. She smells like rain, smells like green growing things, and Rukia takes a deep, ragged breath just to smell her, to smell something other than ash-char-decay for the first time in months.
āCome on, come on, youāre safe here. Letās get you seated and see to your wounds, okay?ā the woman asks with a bright smile, her sunset orange hair nearly glowing in the dim half-light of the store. She takes Rukiaās arm and tugs her deeper into theā¦ into the bookstore of all places, towards an old, squat chair with wooden feet and a heavily stuffed seat.
It looks decadent, it looks ancient, and Rukiaā¦ Rukia is covered in mud-blood-ash, she canātā she canātā
The woman laughs, bright-cheerful-kind, and presses her into the chair anyway. āDonāt worry! You wouldnāt be the first to bleed all over my store, and you probably wonāt be the last,ā she says cheerfully, kneeling in front of Rukia and looking up at her through her lashes. āEverything will be okay, youāll see.ā
Rukia huffs at the empty reassurance but doesnāt bother fighting. She doesnāt have the strength to do so, not now, maybe never again.
Orā¦ maybe thatās the blood-loss speaking.
Rukia sways. Struggles to stay awake.
Feels her body slump as darkness swims across her vision.
Knows nothing more.
***
When Rukia wakes, sheās in a burnt out building, sitting in a strangely untouched chair. Thereās blood ā her blood ā staining the old fabric, butā¦ sheās not wounded.
Sheās not wounded.
No matter that she remembers being wounded, remembers pain-agony-weakness, her clothing is whole and her skin unmarred. Itās as if she fell asleep and dreamt it allā the attack, her wounds, finding an intact store, the shopkeeperā¦
But she doesnāt remember walking into this building. Doesnāt remember sitting down anywhere but the chair in the strange storeā¦
And the blood. Still warm. Still tacky. Probably hers butā¦
Sheās not wounded.
Rukia releases a long, shuddering breath and carefully rises, testing her bodyās reactions to movement andā¦
She feels fine.
(What in the worldā¦?)
Rukia swallows. Glances around the burnt out building.
Hurries out before she can question it any further.
(She has a war to fight.)
***
She tries not to think about the bookshop, about the shopkeeper, as she goes about her business; war is dangerous enough without being distracted by mysteries, and sheās constantly being directed around the front lines as her power is needed.
(Sometimes she wishes Sode no Shirayuki wasnāt ice based butā¦)
(Sheās one of the few who can stop the raging fires started by the Hollows.)
(Itās tiring butā¦ itās needed.)
(She canāt refuse.)
She doesnāt get much downtime because of it, but even she gets it sometimes; like right now, as she wanders aimlessly through a mostly-intact city, uncertain where she wants to go, uncertain if she really wants to go anywhere, talk to anyoneā
A familiar-unfamiliar door catches her attention, garishly bright and cheerfully inviting, despite being tucked away in a little nook formed by two other buildings. She wavers, hesitating over whether to investigate or continue on, before deciding what the hell and marching towards the door.
Thereās a dark, narrow staircase behind the door, disappearing upwards with no signs of ending, and the first step creaks under Rukiaās foot as she steps on it. Still, she forges upwards, one hand on Sodeās hilt and the other on the wall, until a door suddenly looms out of the darkness in front of her.
She opens it.
Steps through.
āWelcome to Priceless Tales, how can I help you?ā a familiar voice happily greets her. āOh, youāre back! Hello there!ā
Rukia starts and looks over at the counter to her side, eyes widening at the sight of the woman from herā¦ dream? Memory? A quick glance around confirms the rest of it; sheās standing in an oddly vast bookshop, shelves vanishing into shadows just like the stairs did, with a small seating area not far from the entrance. Even the chairs are familiar, the same squat, over-stuffed style that she remembers from before, butā¦
The city where she remembers running across this woman and her store is over a thousand kilometers away.
This canāt be the same place.
(Can it?)
Not to mention the fact that she woke up in a burnt out ruin instead of a store.
(So how in the worldā¦?!)
The woman laughs brightly and comes out from around the counter, everything about her achingly familiar: her brilliant sunset orange hair, the scent of plants-rain-wind lingering around her, the sensation of a storm just over the horizonā¦
āIām glad to see you well, this time!ā the woman says with a warm-kind-sharp smile, even as she ushers Rukia towards the small seating area. āYou had me worried when you passed out like that.ā
āIā¦ yes. Thank you for taking care of me,ā Rukia manages as she gingerly settles into one of the chairs. Itās just as overstuffed and decadent as it looks, and she feels herself melting back into it without hesitation. Just the chance to sit and relax is a welcome relief, and the dim light of the store is soothing the longer she sits in it; it feels safe, feels protective, and after so long at war, Rukia will take whatever safety and rest that she can find, no matter how artificial it is.
āDonāt mention it,ā the woman tells her, and this time her smile has teeth.
Rukia laughs awkwardly and clasps her hands over her knee, telling herself that she shouldnāt find a civilian shopkeeper so fascinating, butā¦
Something about the woman calls out to her, calls out to Sode no Shirayuki, and she canāt help but wonderā¦
āAlright then,ā Rukia agrees after a moment, then glances at the shelves around them. āSoā¦ can you tell me about this store?ā
Itās the right question to ask; the woman practically lights up as she leans forward, excitement-pleasure-joy radiating from her as she says, āOf course, Iād love to tell you about it!ā
Rukia settles in to listen to whatever the woman wants to tell her.
(Such clear joy is a rare commodity.)
(For that alone, sheāll listen to anything the woman had to say.)
(This is why she fights, to protect people like this.)
(Sometimesā¦ sometimes she just needs a reminder.)
***
The sun is setting by the time Rukia leaves, and she stares blankly at the sky for a long, long moment, unnerved by having lost so much time without being aware of it. The bookshop hadnāt had any windows that she could see, butā¦ but surelyā¦ surely she hadnāt spent that much time in there?
(Had she?)
She pulls out her pocket watch and flips the battered cover open, tipping the face towards the fading light, andā
Swallows.
Stares.
Slides her gaze from the watch telling her itās only four in the afternoon to the brilliant orange sky, the same shade as the womanās hair, telling her itās nearly eight in the evening.
Slowly, warily, already certain of what sheās going to find, Rukia turns around to the door she just walked out ofā
Thereās no door.
Thereās no sign that a door ever existed there, either. The two buildings abut cleanly, with no little nook for a door and a stairwell leading up. Itās like waking in a burnt-out building all over again, except this timeā¦
This time Rukia went in there freely and willingly.
(That she walked out at all isā¦ isā¦)
(No, no donāt think about it.)
(The woman was kind-pleasant-nice.)
(A few missing hours is a small price to pay for getting to relax.)
(Sheāll justā¦ have to be more careful from now on.)
Rukia glances one last time at the spot where the door was, then turns back around and stalks off.
She has work to do, and an encounter with the fair folk is no excuse to avoid it.
(Sheāll justā¦ not mention this to anyone.)
(Itās no oneās business but hers, anyway.)
(Sheāll be fine.)
(She will.)
***
Months go by, months in which the war worsens and Rukia finds herself thrown from mission to mission, front to front, until sheās running on pride-spite-fury and nothing else. Her friends are being worn down, are losing hope, losing strength, andā¦ and she canātā¦ she canāt blame them.
Not when half the enemies theyāve been fighting are their own comrades resurrected and turned against them. Not when the other half are broken-twisted-empty civilians, their souls bound in barbed chains and driven mad by the agony.
(Sheāll never forgive Aizen for this, for any of this.)
(If she had any hope of beating himā)
(But she doesnāt, she canāt, not when her own superiors canāt do a thing against him.)
Rukia takes a shaky breath and braces herself, hefting Sode no Shirayuki with trembling arms and staring down the monstrous Espada just down the street.
(She wasnāt supposed to be fighting an Espada; there wasnāt supposed to be one hereā¦!)
(Had their intelligence failed, orā¦ or is thereā¦ is there a traitor amongst them even now?)
The Espada grins at her, all sharp teeth and vicious greed, and spins an achingly familiar trident, itās form flickering intoā¦ intoā
Rukia seethes at the desecration, at the deceit, and launches herself at the monster wearing Shiba Kaienās form, attacking once, twice, again-again-again until her trembling hands go numb and the monsterās mocking words start to dig deep-deep-deep into her mind.
Itās too powerful for her.
(Sheās too worn down, her strength a sliver of what it should be.)
(She never had a chance.)
It laughs and bats her aside, a rush of water leaping from the trident and driving her back, driving her against ā through! ā a wall.
She tumbles down a flight of dimly lit stairs. Crashes through another door. Sprawls damp-wounded-worn across the wooden floor and stares blankly up at the darkness that devours the ceiling.
There are bookshelves looming over her.
(Howā¦ expectedā¦)
āWelcome toā oh, hmm. Youāre Himeās Favored,ā a manās voice says, followed by the sound of bare feet on wood as he moves towards her.
Rukia wearily glances over, blinking at the sight of a tall, slender man with the same brilliant, sunset orange hair as the woman from before. And maybe itās because she was just facing a creature pretending to be Shiba Kaien, butā¦ he looks familiar, looks so much like her beloved mentor that sheā¦ she canāt bear it.
She closes her eyes and tips her head away.
The man kneels at her side. Carefully tugs her into a more comfortable position. Smooths her dripping hair out of her face. āIāve let Hime know,ā he tells her soothingly. āYou just rest right here. Donāt worry about a thing, Iāll deal with it.ā
Rukia swallows. Bites back the tears that want to fall. Steadfastly ignores that one of the fair folk is going out to deal with her problem.
Heās gone a moment later, not even the sound of footsteps giving him away, and Rukia sighs and reaches up to scrub at her eyes with one trembling hand.
(What has she gotten herself into?)
Before she can start to despair, thereās a sharp intake of breath from nearby, followed by the patter of bare feet on wood yet again. Another person kneels at her side, delicate hand smoothing across her face, as they say, āItāll be alright. Just relax.ā
Rukiaās breath hitches at the familiar voice and she cracks her eyes open, staring up at the woman from her previous visits ā Hime, the man had called her? ā and drinking in the sight of the womanās care-concern-determination. It might be ā probably is ā faked, butā¦ she doesnāt have the strength to care anymore.
Even the pretense is better than nothing, at this point.
Light shimmers around her, the same brilliant orange as the womanās hair, and Rukia sighs in relief as her pain begins to fade.
āYouāre worse than last time,ā Hime murmurs, mouth curving down into a frown as she does.
Rukia huffs. āThe war is getting worse,ā she tells Hime without hesitation, then lets her eyes slide closed in exhaustion. āWeāreā¦ not going to win,ā she admits softly, giving voice to the fear thatās been growing in her soul the past few months. āWeāre stretched thin as it is, and Iāmā¦ Iām so tiredā¦ā She shouldnāt be admitting this to one of the fair folk, shouldnāt be giving Hime such an opening, butā¦
She canāt help it.
Not anymore.
Hime hums and leans forward, leans over Rukia until thereās only inches between them. āWhat would you give to see the war ended?ā she asks, quiet-intense-tempting.
āAnything,ā Rukia breathes, knowing exactly the trap sheās walking into and unable to find the strength to care.
āGive me your name.ā
āKuchiki Rukia.ā
Hime makes a happy noise and leans closer, her lips soft-warm-gentle as she presses a kiss to Rukiaās own. āKuchiki Rukia,ā she whispers against Rukiaās lips, the sound rippling down Rukiaās spine like a promise, like an oath. āConsider your request fulfilled.ā Hime straightens up, one hand brushing across Rukiaās forehead once again, and then she orders, āRest now. Rest and recover. Youāre safe.ā
Rukia struggles against the command for a moment, two, before the creeping relief-exhaustion-hope overtakes her at last.
She falls asleep.
She doesnāt dream.
(And when she wakes, Aizen is dead and the Hollows are back where they belong.)
(And when she wakes, she steps from the bookshop with a new wife on one side and a new brother on the other.)
(The Kuchiki Clan is in for the shock of their lives butā¦)
oh shit an ask meme lets do 2 and 3 bc i wanna hear about them TROPES
Is there a trope youāve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?
Is there a trope you wouldnāt touch with a ten foot pole?
TROPES...Ā tropes r a weird one for me cause tbh i acknowledge they exist and i, like many people, follow and read tvtropes... but i usually get as far asĀ āvelvet is the jock, the herboā and stop THERE... i never really go out of my way to figure tropes out because i just write Whatever The Fuck and hope for the best LMAOOOOO
tropes ive yet to try,,, hm. pulling from tvtropes thereās a Lot of ones i can think of but i think Punk Punk is DEF one LMAOOOO ive never done cyberpunk!!! or solarpunk!!! and itās KILLING ME iāve always WANTED TO but iāve never had the CHANCE so maybe cyberpunk 2077 will finally make me change my mind, if only out of sheer spite lmao. iām already kicking about an idea for a lil cyberpunk graffiti artist SO MAYBE ITāLL COME TRUE SOON... but who knows.
is there a trope you wouldnāt-- most of them. HJGSDFGHJFSDJH honestly so many BUT one i was JUST talking abt is... well i guessĀ itās a trope??? but itās the trend ofĀ āuwu pregnancy scaryā that i keep seeing in a LOT of horror franchises lately. let me make this clear: i never wanna get pregnant. ever. no thank u good sir. but you GOTTA stop using pregnant women for the fucked-up scare factor im SO TIRED.
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