i come more from the perspective of being a fan of kenny but since their match at wrestle kingdom i've gotten interested in their feud and ospreay himself. do you have any insight to share about their feud from his perspective or his character in general? if not, stopping by to say your blog is great and i love your art style.
hi hello and welcome to my little blog! thank you for your kind words
i'm gonna get something out of the way first: i'm currently in the middle of writing up a big analysis about these two, so. you know. what i'll be sharing here now is a heavily compressed version of that, really only touching upon some of the central themes i find interesting, from ospreay's point of view (since you said that's what you would like to know more about)
i think it's important to keep in mind is that there isn't as much of a clear-cut dichotomy between kenny and ospreay as you might think. they both deserve a lot of credit for making this whole thing into a... very heartfelt, and nuanced story. they flip "roles" depending on context, the element of danger that permeates the narrative comes from the fact that they both obstinately think they're in the right, and i think making this out to be a heel-face story is more reductive than anything
what ospreay is, from his own perspective, is wronged. humiliated, stripped, castrated, what have you. not long before the last forbidden door, he went on to defeat sanada for the vacant united states title at dominion. with few exceptions, this belt has always been a symbol of being the top foreign talent in new japan, ever since its inception, when kenny won the inaugural tournament for it
so, in a way, ospreay isn't just fighting for himself. he's not just fighting for a belt. he's fighting out of an urge to be seen as being capable. sure, there's an ego incentive behind it all, but really, what he wants is to prove a point
it's also interesting that, kenny technically left new japan by handing his position off to not just ospreay, but jay white as well. and the consensus around the time seemed to be that jay was always more suitable for the job than ospreay. but then earlier this year jay left the company, and this sort of shared responsibility got piled onto ospreay's back. so, as far as the void left behind by kenny, it's ospreay or it's no one
and, at the end of the day, they both want the same thing. kenny will only ever acknowledge ospreay as a rightful successor if ospreay forces the wheel out of his hands. if it happens any other way, neither men will be satisfied. it's a very aggressive take on a passing of the torch narrative that i personally love (something about the endless rat race to the top, "evil is a relay sport when the one who's burned turns to pass the torch"...)
i think where this manifests in the most succinct way is their light-shadow dynamic. ospreay himself describes it as such in omega vs assassin, an interview that i love referencing:
this is a fresh and interesting take on the concept. i think the dynamic implies a sort of natural codependency, something that is present in teammates a lot, but not necessarily in rivals. the shadow wouldn't exist without a light (ospreay wouldn't be where he is without kenny's absence shaping him), and the light would never be as sharp without the contrast of a shadow (kenny wouldn't have had the motive to return to new japan without the threat of ospreay surpassing him)
i also think their relationship is about masculinity (the puroresu concept of fighting spirit ties into this a lot), and rather evocative of specifically a tempestuous father-son relationship. it's about ospreay wanting to do better than kenny so bad he inevitably becomes someone in his image. i always think of this natasha trethewey quote in relation to this:
and, you know, something about kenny being absent for the most impactful period of ospreay's career in new japan, and then reentering his life with a set of herculean expectations. the motifs that ospreay has brought up in recent promos (eating kenny's heart, beheading him) also tie into masculinity in a way. something about the archetypal patterns of the hero...
i do have to sleep very badly so i hope this makes sense. sorry to cut you off here... feel free to ask more specific questions if any of this is unclear! and also feel free to disagree, i would love to hear your thoughts
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Commission for the great @lindstrom2020 !! A crossover of Good Omens and X-Men (I chose post-Dark Phoenix). Bonding duos! I hope you like it! Commission info is here!
~
Erik was just trying to order some pizza, and Charles had already struck up a conversation with a man at the table next to them. The man kept glancing pointedly at Charles’ book, but Charles ignored him, though the slight, bastardly curl at the corner of his mouth told Erik that he knew exactly what was bothering the man.
“Charles, what do you want on your pizza?” Erik finally snapped, making the server jump.
Charles looked at him and gave him a sunny smile. “The usual,” he replied.
Erik rolled his eyes, thought back to the pizza they’d had a month ago, and gave the server that order. The boy nodded and scurried away.
“Surely you shouldn’t eat with a book open,” huffed the man Charles had been talking to, finally coming to the reason for his glares and snide comments.
“Oh, I won’t be,” Charles replied cheerfully. “It’s just that this one takes too long ordering.”
“Bullshit,” Erik snorted, making the man jump and look at him in alarm. “You’re the one with rotating favorites.”
“And you’re the one who can never decide what cheese to order,” Charles teased gently. “Mr. Fell, my husband, Erik. Erik, this charming man is Mr. Fell. He runs a bookshop!”
Ah. That would be why Charles had been drawn into conversation. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Fell,” he said, remembering his manners but only because Charles would be annoyed if he didn’t. Mr. Fell looked like if someone had taken Charles and slid him all the way to the “professor” end of Charles’ aesthetic scale: short, round, white hair, impish blue eyes, and clothes that were more fit for a hundred years ago. He certainly looked like someone with a job involving books, although Erik would’ve thought more librarian than bookshop.
“The pleasure is mine, I’m sure,” Mr. Fell replied.
Mr. Fell’s food arrived; some sort of fancy one with green bits and tiny sliced tomatoes. All three of them said polite things to end the conversation, and Mr. Fell began eating while Erik asked Charles wearily, “Where to after this?”
“I’m not sure,” Charles answered thoughtfully, tracing the title on the cover of his book with his fingertip. “Maybe wander Soho? It’s been decades and I’d like to see how it’s changed.”
Erik’s mouth twisted. He knew it was a terrible idea to be confined to “tourist” areas when Charles had visited London twice a year during most of his school career, but he didn’t like these neighborhoods with tiny streets, tiny sidewalks, and people who didn’t like moving out of Charles’ way. He’d already threatened a man who kicked Charles’ chair and yelled at Charles for running over his foot.
“It will be fine, Erik,” Charles told him, smiling again, but softer.
Erik grunted, but allowed himself to be swayed.
The food was actually very good, and they finished their meal in relative silence. Well. Audibly silent.
Why was that man so angry at you?
He noticed how my book is a first edition and I had it out at a restaurant. He seems the fussy type. I wonder what his bookshop looks like.
Judging by his appearance, I’d say absolutely spotless and annoyingly alphabetical.
Looks can be deceiving, my love. The mental sense of Charles laughing, of gentle fingers running over his mind and leaving warmth in their wake. Maybe it’s charmingly cluttered.
Your idea of charming is “absolute chaos”.
You still love me, though.
Erik sent Charles a bit of his own warmth and the sense of laughter.
They finished eating quickly and left with a final polite goodbye to Mr. Fell, who was blandly polite back—until he noticed Charles’ chair, and he went from polite to surprised. Thankfully, he said nothing, and they left without awkwardness.
“How did he not notice?” Erik grumbled, holding the door for Charles.
Charles shrugged. “He was upset about the book. At least he didn’t say anything.”
“True.” Erik ran the backs of his fingers gently down Charles’ cheek, and Charles smiled up at him.
Soho wasn’t as crowded as Erik feared, although there were a few moments where Erik had to glare at people to make them move. Charles looked around in excitement, pointing out places he remembered from his school years, and complaining about how they couldn’t go in his favorite antiques shop because the aisles were so narrow.
“Some day,” Erik promised him, and Charles just gave him a sad half-smile and said nothing.
They reached a corner, and Charles exclaimed in delight. “A.Z. Fell! Oh, this place is a delight! Hardly ever open, but I’ve memorized the hours—it should be open right now!”
“How the fuck did you memorize that?” Erik asked, baffled as he stared at the sign. Charles laughed.
“It was an interesting puzzle. I had to, this shop is a landmark and also so wonderful. Help me up the steps?”
Erik nodded, opening the unlocked door and floating Charles’ chair up the steps with a single slight wave of his hand. Then he followed Charles in.
“He has new books in!” Charles exclaimed, and immediately went to an overflowing table and picked up what looked like a first edition of something strange and obscure that Charles would definitely covet and read until it fell apart. Erik looked around, frowning. This place was a disaster, and there was no way Charles could maneuver through these dangerous stacks. Still, Erik could try. The sight of books on the floor made him twitch, but he grit his teeth and only moved things when Charles needed him to.
“Oh. You again.”
Erik and Charles looked over in surprise, to see Mr. Fell standing in a doorway further into the shop, looking both resigned and annoyed. His tone had been the same.
“Hello Mr. Fell,” Charles said cheerfully. “This is a lovely shop, I must say.”
Mr. Fell blinked, apparently surprised. “Ah, thank you,” he said. Then he frowned at the book Charles had just picked up to look over.
“I’m not looking to buy,” Charles told him quickly, startling Erik. He knew that hungry look in Charles’ eye; he wanted these books. “I just missed this place.”
Mr. Fell smiled and said nothing else, but he did hover possessively as Charles and Erik went around, picking up books to look at and talk about, softly. Charles always put books back exactly where he found them, and never lifted more than three off a stack; Erik copied him, baffled. Charles was the type to search through entire cases and pull out one book on each shelf to read or buy. It came with being rich. But, well… there wasn’t really room for a library on Genosha yet.
One day.
“Hey, angel!” said a loud voice, making Erik jump and spin; a person with half their head buzzed to perhaps two inches and the rest of their red hair long and curly, huge dark sunglasses, and a black dress with black heeled boots, had just walked through the door, and was staring back with a tight mouth and eyebrows drawn down. “Who’re you?” the person demanded bluntly.
“Customers,” Erik replied shortly, and turned away.
“Oh!” Charles gasped softly, and reached out to gently wiggle a copy of Once and Future King free of a shelf, holding it reverently in his hands. It looked very old and like it was going to fall apart any second. Charles held it very gently. “A real third printing,” he murmured in awe. “I’ve been looking for one of these for years.”
“Charles, it’s almost destroyed,” Erik sighed. “You can’t take it on a plane.”
“Of course not!” Charles said, appalled, as he looked up at Erik. “This is far too precious to bring back to Genosha, at least until there’s proper moisture control. But isn’t it beautiful?”
Erik looked at the book. It really probably should’ve been recycled a few decades ago. “Uh. Yes.”
“You just don’t appreciate old books.” Charles stroked the cover, sighed, and carefully put it back. “It’s safe here, that’s what matters.”
Erik glanced over at Mr. Fell and the newcomer, warily; Mr. Fell looked pleased, and the newcomer exasperated. “How long are we staying here?” he muttered to Charles. He didn’t like how those two were staring.
“I don’t know,” Charles murmured back, eyes wandering among the shelves. “Can’t you feel the history?”
“I can feel that the nails in these shelves are rusted to almost nothing,” Erik replied, eyeing a shelf warily. It should be cracking, or at least sagging badly; but it was straight and perfect and pristine. In fact… the whole shop was perfect. He looked around again, frowning. Yes… under the dust and books, every inch of this place looked in good repair. But there was rust everywhere, and that chair’s springs were almost gone and yet it still looked plump and comfortable, and honestly what the fuck was with the infuriating layout of these books? It was almost like Mr. Fell wanted customers to trip and break things.
“Erik.”
There was a warning note in Charles’ tone. Erik’s mouth tightened, but instead of bothering with moving books, he just lifted Charles’ chair and moved him over to the next clear space.
A gasp from behind them. “Oh!” Mr. Fell said, “You’re a mutant!”
Erik couldn’t help a smirk. “Yes,” he said bluntly.
“No wonder you got in, those steps haven’t changed in—a while,” the other person said. Mr. Fell hissed something and the other person scowled. Erik looked at Charles, who had his politest smile on, but Erik could tell immediately that he had heard something unflattering if not downright rude and it had soured his mood.
“Shall we just go?” Erik asked Charles softly.
“No, it’s fine,” Charles replied, and turned back to the books.
“What’s your mutation, anyway?” the other person asked, sidling towards Erik. Mr. Fell wrung his hands and scowled, but Erik didn’t really care, so he answered.
“Magnetic field manipulation.”
“Huh.” The person cocked their head and shoved their hands in previously-unnoticed pockets in their skirt. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for a telekinetic.”
“It’s not telekinesis,” Erik replied, exasperated already. Honestly, you’d think people would realize by now. “Magnetism isn’t just moving things. I could snap every bone in your—”
“Erik!” Charles barked. “Enough!”
But while Mr. Fell looked alarmed, the other person was beginning to grin. “Oh, I like you,” they declared, and stuck out their hand to shake. “Crowley.”
Erik frowned, but shook the offered hand. “Lehnsherr,” he replied.
“Oh dear,” Mr. Fell muttered.
“Indeed,” Charles said wearily.
Erik had no idea how it happened, but somehow he ended up discussing the differences between different mutations with Crowley, while Mr. Fell swooped in to make sure Charles didn’t knock over his precious books. Erik was dimly aware of them making small talk, but he was caught up in explaining the less-obvious applications of complete control over magnetism, versus the limitations of plain telekinesis. Crowley was very intrigued, and told Erik that they, themselves were not a mutant, but they had had cause to work with a few, and they had once been nanny to a boy with the power to make illusions and hallucinations. It had been fun raising the little hellspawn, they said fondly, but it had been hard to figure out what, exactly, the limits of his power  were. Nowadays he was about twenty and probably still giving his parents nightmares, though of less insubstantial means.
“Good for him,” Erik said firmly. He had the suspicion from the way Crowley talked that the parents had been rather distant. Well, if they were upset over their son’s choices, they should’ve tried to be better parents and learn about him as he grew.
Crowley’s grin was delighted.
“Buy?” Mr. Fell’s incredulous voice said, catching Erik and Crowley’s attention. They turned, surprised.
“Yes,” Charles replied calmly with a smile. “I have some very well-preserved books, but no one is reading them and I hate letting them get dusty. I can have my associate back in New York bring them over next week. And you take such good care of your collection, I’m sure they’ll be safe with you.”
Mr. Fell’s surprise became something like glee. “I would be delighted to help,” he said. “If you would like, I can bring out my list of inventory, and we’ll see if I already have duplicates.”
“That would be wonderful, thank you!”
And so they went to the back, chatting about the merits and pitfalls of collecting only old books. Erik distinctly heard a wistful tone as Charles spoke of missing his own library back home, and felt a stab of sadness. He knew Charles liked Genosha, he often said so, and they were growing all the time; but he also knew that Charles missed his old home, and teaching.
One day.
“Well, that’s a first,” Crowley said, shaking Erik out of his thoughts. He looked at Crowley, and saw a tiny, pleased smile on their face. “Your husband must’ve offered something good for Az—Fell to show him the inventory.”
“How did you know he’s my husband?” Erik asked, surprised.
Crowley raised one eyebrow and their smile grew. “It’s obvious, innit? And your necklaces match.”
That was hardly an obvious sign of marriage, but… it was true. Erik had made two tiny chess piece pendants, a knight and a king, and painted them both white. He wore the knight, and Charles wore the king. Charles had also scrounged up his parents’ wedding bands, and those were on their necklaces, too. Weddings in Genosha were more “moving in together and saying you’re married” than official registries and ceremonies. At the moment, at least.
“What’s your relationship with Mr. Fell?” Erik asked, feeling a little homesick. “You seem to know each other well.”
Crowley shrugged, smile softening. “We’re still figuring it out. Feels like we’ve been together over a thousand years, but our… families are all assholes. So it’s only been about nine years since we started something for real.”
Erik nodded, a little confused but not willing to admit it. Ah, well. “Does he actually sell any books? Charles was very excited to see that literally nothing’s changed.”
Crowley laughed. “Oh, he doesn’t sell anything. He’s run people off with broken tea pots when they’ve been insistent. Browsing is fine, as long as you don’t damage anything, but buying? Out of the question.”
Erik snorted, thinking of Charles and his coveted collection of teacups that no one was allowed to use. “Bet on how many cups of tea they’ll have before I can drag Charles back to the hotel.”
“Fifty quid. But if Fell breaks out the wine, neither of you are leaving for the night.”
~
Aziraphale was so delighted that this “customer” was actually prepared to give him books that he allowed himself to be drawn into conversation about favorite authors, judging by the amount of queer erotica on his shelves. And then he was even more delighted when Charles revealed himself to be remarkably well-read, and to have similar taste in fiction, and to prefer his tea without sugar or milk.
“So how long have you been married?” he asked curiously, when Charles made a fondly exasperated comment on his husband not understanding the importance of old literature.
Charles smiled. “Oh, about five years,” he said cheerfully. “It wasn’t really official until then. We’ve been off and on since the sixties, though.”
“The sixties!” Aziraphale exclaimed, then realized how rude he must have sounded. “I—I am very sorry, it’s just that...”
Charles smiled wider, rueful now. “It’s the face, isn’t it? I have a theory it’s the strength of our mutations; certainly my sister never aged because of hers, and a few of my students were the same.” His smile faltered, his eyes becoming shadowed—and then he brightened again. “I apologize. But yes, I’ve been speaking to my friend, who is a biological chemist, and we’re discussing how to best research the effects of mutations on aging.”
“That would be a quite interesting study,” Aziraphale commented, hoping to draw Charles away from whatever sad thoughts had taken him. “I would love to read it. Ah… may I ask, what is your mutation?”
“Telepathy,” Charles replied.
Aziraphale gasped in unfeigned delight. “Oh! I’ve always wanted to meet a telepath! Please, how does that work? Oh, bother, I’m sorry, I’m not myself today, I don’t mean to be rude.”
Charles laughed. “It’s alright. It’s been a while since I’ve met someone who’s wanted to know. I’m a geneticist with a psychology degree, so I’m not exactly sure how it works, but I know what it does.”
It was a merry time, talking about mutations and science and books and the strange power-surge in mutations around the globe around nine years ago that everyone mysteriously forgot after the ruckus at Tadfield (if Charles noticed Aziraphale’s nervous sweating, he was certainly kind enough to ignore it). They finished two pots of tea, and it was only when Charles turned to ask Erik his opinion on something that Aziraphale noticed that Erik and Crowley were in the doorway, leaning on opposite sides in the exact same position. It was quite funny, especially since they were both wearing sunglasses and had rather soft expressions on their faces.
“Come sit, both of you,” Aziraphale offered.
Erik shook his head. “We have dinner reservations,” he said.
“It’s a fresh pot of tea, though,” Charles objected.
“You’re going to hurt yourself with all that caffeine,” Erik retorted.
“Did you forget we’ve got a table at the Ritz tonight, angel?” Crowley drawled, with a bit of a smirk. Aziraphale glared at them. They did not have a table, but knowing Crowley, one probably just conveniently opened up. “It’s been a while since you’ve stayed open this long, too.”
Aziraphale pursed his lips and frowned. His automatic response was to refuse to go anywhere when he had a good conversationalist trapped here, but he had the feeling Charles would not appreciate being held up. So he sighed regretfully and told Crowley, “Not until we finish our tea.”
Charles smiled, Crowley stuck their tongue out at Aziraphale, and Erik scowled.
It was dinnertime by the time the tea was gone, and Aziraphale and Crowley saw Charles and Erik out, with much more pleasant goodbyes than at the pizzeria.
“What nice young men,” Aziraphale commented when the door was closed.
“I dunno, the tall one’s a bit of an ass,” Crowley replied, smirking.
“Ah yes, like you?” Aziraphale retorted snidely.
“Actually, yes. And according to him, his husband is a bastard under all the sweet.” Crowley outright grinned at Aziraphale’s confusion. “You’re a tamer of assholes, angel.”
“Well, according to Charles, Erik has a good heart under his bitterness and bastardy, so that’s you in a nutshell,” Aziraphale said, and smiled smugly as Crowley immediately began to bluster and splutter. “Oh, do be quiet, dear. You’ll scare the children.”
for the ship head canons, can we get 25, 29, and 30 for France/UK? đź‘€
25. Why do they fight?
I’m not sure if this question means, what topics do they fight over, or what causes them to fight. I’ll answer both!
First, they fight over pretty much anything? At least, they CAN fight over anything, but they don’t always. It’s sort of unpredictable whether or not they’re going to fight, which can be stressful both for them and everyone around them. They’re definitely working on learning to compromise together.
Second, what causes them to fight? Well, it’s because neither of them learned healthy ways of expressing their feelings, and both of them were raised in an environment in which they always had to be right, and whenever they were wrong it meant danger for them. It’s definitely traumagenic, and they don’t really mean it in the way others may interpret it. Fighting for them doesn’t mean they hate the other, it’s saying 1. I feel threatened and I’m afraid I’m going to be hurt, even though I know you wouldn’t do that to me, and 2. I care about your opinions enough to hear them through argument, but I’m too traumatized to let myself be in an “inferior” position of admitting they’re wrong. Again, they’re learning to get past this. They’d both def benefit from therapy, and couple’s therapy!
29. Why do they fall a little bit more in love?Â
Francis- He falls a bit more in love every time Arthur makes something for him. Arthur’s definitely a creator, and he enjoys making things for people that he loves, whether that be a meal, a drawing, or even a handpainted figurine! What Arthur especially likes to do is surprise Francis, since he has trouble approaching him with a gift face to face (again, insecurity and all that). So, he likes to leave things for Francis around the house or in his clothes. None too few times has Francis put on a coat to find a small sketch paper folded up in the pocket left by Arthur. He’s kept everything he’s ever found from Arthur.Â
Arthur- He’s actually more sappy than he’s willing to admit. He falls in love a bit more every time Francis goes out of his way for romance, even if he scoffs and laughs it off. Francis LOVES taking every little chance he can to show Arthur that he’s the most special man in his life. Homecooked meals with wine and candles for no special reason other than that he loves Arthur, or bringing home a bushel of roses because he saw them and thought of Arthur. Francis also likes public displays of affection, which Arthur secretly loves even if he gets embarassed. A flower presented in front of meeting buildings or helping Arthur step over puddles to avoid getting his shoes and trousers dirty. It’s the open effort that makes Arthur fall in love, definitely.
30. Why does it work (or not work) between them? Â Â
Now, I’m a sucker for happily ever afters, so I definitely imagine it working out for them in the end! However, these fellas have a lot of history between them, and we all know it hasn’t always worked out between them. So, I’ll talk about why it works, and why it didn’t work.
Starting with Why It Didn’t Work, so we can end on a happy ending!
It didn’t work because both of them were such powerhouses of nations. You can’t get along with someone well when you two are rivals for the same title (Most Powerful Nation). Even if they did yearn and plead, at the end of the day, every time they tried it ended in pain because there was always, always something to fight about. And these fights were no mere petty quarrels either. Their relationships in the past were definitely toxic from both sides, unfortunately. It’s also hard to be in love with someone that your boss wants you to kill. It’s that inevitable heartbreak that tears gaps between you both, no matter how hard you try.
Now, Why Does It Work?
They have so much history together, even if that history is ugly at times. They were enemies for so long that they know pretty much everything there is to know about one another. They know each other in and out, their inner workings. They can predict each other so well it’s almost eerie. They’ve always been best friends, even when at each other’s throats.
It’s hard to know someone that well and not love them, at least a little bit. Thankfully, these two both love what they know about each other, even if it’s ugly sometimes. They accept who they are, and they know where those ugly parts come from. They don’t need to change one another, they only encourage each other to grow and better themselves every day. Sometimes they still fight (the downside of knowing someone so well is that you know how to push their buttons), but at the end of the day they care about each other so goddamn much.
Also, losing their power definitely helped their relationship. They were no longer stepping on each other’s fingers to grab at power. They were dropped onto equal grounds suddenly, and they really didn’t have much except each other. It was around this time they began to see each other as equals, and from there a healthy and loving relationship could form. They’ve loved each other for centuries, but now they have the room to cultivate that without worry for the future.
Some thoughts about Jor-El & Lara (ft. Zeta & Tal) —
Lara Lor-Van was always a brilliant scientist, with a sharp mind and stubborn determination that helped her easily keep up with any of her male colleagues. She had no real interest in marrying or starting a family, but these things were not always in your own control on Krypton. When she reached the proper age, per tradition, she was bonded with a mate based on genetic matching as well as a few other factors.
Her new husband was Zeta-Rho, and their marriage was a cold one. Zeta was not a particularly kind man, leading Lara to spend hours and hours locked away in her lab. Despite her distaste for her husband, however, Lara tried to find time for her son, Tal-Rho. Though she’d never wanted to be a mother, she knew that this innocent boy wasn’t to blame for any of it, and ignoring him would only turn him into his father.
Over the years, Lara’s studies led her to a terrifying realization -- Krypton was dying, and they had only a matter of years left. Only drastic action could save the planet. But none of her colleagues would believe her... except for one, an up and coming scientist named Jor-El, from the esteemed House of El. They began working together, trying to find a solution that would save everyone. And as they worked, they fell in love.
When it was clear that what they had was far more than just a fling, Lara made the choice to leave Zeta and marry Jor. Leaving a genetic match to marry for love was highly irregular on Krypton, and it badly wounded Zeta’s pride. Furious, he refused to allow Lara any visitation or custody of Tal, and his treatment of the poor boy grew steadily worse and worse -- and there was nothing Lara could do about it.
Meanwhile, their efforts to save the planet were going nowhere. The only hope was if the ruling council and all Kryptonians took drastic and immediate action, and so few were willing to believe that there was any danger. Lara’s backup plan was a device known as the Eradicator, which could store and transplant Kryptonian consciousnesses. Her hope was that even if their people’s bodies could not survive, their minds could live on, either in artificial bodies or in the bodies of willing hosts. Jor and his brother Zor, meanwhile, began work on a series of advanced escape pods that could carry people to safety away from the planet.
The one bright point in all of this was the birth of Jor-El and Lara’s son, Kal. They adored him and wanted nothing but the best for him.
However, doom approached more quickly than anticipated, and only a tiny handful of pods were finished in time. It was decided that if anyone should be saved, it should be their children. So Kal-El and his cousin Kara Zor-El were placed into pods and sent to Earth -- the planet was chosen due to its yellow sun, which would grant the children extraordinary abilities and keep them safe. And of course, Kal arrived in Smallville where he was found by the Kents, while Kara was knocked off-course into the Phantom Zone.
The consciousnesses of Jor-El and Lara were both copied, and intended to be sent along with Kal. However, Zeta-Rho got wind of their plans and had other ideas for how Krypton could be preserved. He stole the data crystal containing Lara’s consciousness, as well as the Eradictor device itself, which contained a few hundred Kryptonians who had actually believed in the threat to Krypton. After creating a copy of his own mind, he sent everything to Earth as well, along with his now eleven year old son, Tal. His ultimate plan was to transplant the Kryptonian consciousnesses into humans, and subjugate Earth to create a new Krypton.
Jor-El and Lara, meanwhile, could do nothing but hold each other in their final moments, hoping that at least their son would survive.
Jor’s consciousness did make it to Earth along with his son, and later became the hologram that lives at the Fortress. It’s not a perfect copy of the man, and there is something artificial about him, because he was placed into a computer and not a living body. However, he does have the memories of life experience of Jor-El, and an approximation of the same emotions. He’s also fixed in age, always appearing as a man in his 30s.
