#red bucket follies

[jgroffdaily]

More photos from the Red Bucket Follies presentation from rbarri2002 and leslimayer.

[rynnthefangirl]

In regard to JL&J vs. A&V, I wonder if the fandom animosity has anything to do with Viserys II being the absolute worst.

He forces his daughter to marry his rapist son and then steals his niece’s throne, using Rhaenyra as evidence to why women shouldn’t rule.

In contrast we have dashing Prince Jace who dies fighting for his mother’s claim and goes down in history as one of the greatest kings Westeros never had. George’s own words btw.

No one can say Westeros was better off with Daemyra’s son on the throne instead of Jace and most of us can agree that Rhaenyra’s definitely cursing Viserys II from the grave.

The ideal ending was King Jacaerys I Targaryen, the tragedy is that we end up with King Viserys II Targaryen.

Boy oh boy, you activated my Viserys II and Aegon III defense protocol.

First, to be clear I 100% agree King Jacaerys I would have been amazing, and (along with Queen Baela) one of the best monarchs Westeros would have ever seen. Westeros was robbed, and FUCK the Greens for that.

But Viserys II the absolute worst? Not even close.

First, the Daena issue. Viserys gets a lot of shit for this, but let’s look at the reality. He has just spent 14 years trying to protect the realm from the follies of his nephews, Daeron the Warmonger and Baelor the Religious Zealot. Now he has two options. Option 1. Let Daena take the throne. Daena was said to idolize her brother Daeron (the violent war monger who got 50,000 men killed to stroke his ego), and likely sympathized with the anti-Dornish (read: racist) faction at court forming since Daeron’s failed conquest. Viserys’ own great grandchild is half Dornish, and the peace with Dorne was hard won — does Westeros need a Queen who may threaten to break that peace? How many more will die if Daena decides to avenge her brother? Daena also has been locked in isolation for 10 years— while obviously she should not be punished for that (and I cannot stress this enough, FUCK Baelor), you do have to wonder what kind of effect that may have on her psychology. Now I love Daena, I truly truly do, but there were a lot of red flags as to what kind of Queen she would be. Had Elaena been next in line (and her competence that we later see been known to Viserys), I think it could have been a different story.

Option 2. Take the throne himself. Viserys II is arguably the most competent statesman House Targaryen ever produced. He has buckets of experience running the realm, and truly put the good and prosperity of westeros above all else: above his ego, above his vanity, above his ambition. I don’t believe for one second that Viserys is some devoted male primogeniture advocate that believes women shouldn’t rule: but I think he (correctly) saw that he was more suited to the throne than Daena was. The major downside of Viserys is that his son and heir is awful. BUT Aegon’s flaws would have appeared to be excess lust and gluttony, something he was already indulging in as a prince, and theoretically would not have been so bad for the Realm as a whole if he had just sat back and let the council do the ruling for him, as Viserys likely expected he would. Like Robert Baratheon. And after Aegon, the next in line is Daeron, who at the point of Viserys’ ascension had already been shown to be smart, kind, capable, honorable, wise— all the makings of a great king. Viserys probably figured the realm could tolerate a decade or so of Aegon fucking around while the small council and Hand ruled, to be followed up by an ideal heir, Daeron. This is also all assuming that Viserys was not planning to disinherit Aegon and make Daeron his immediate heir; he may have simply died (or been poisoned) before he had the chance. By contrast, Daena has no true born children yet, so there is no telling how good or bad her heir might be. Would Viserys flip the coin on if her son would be Maegor come again, or go the way he knew had a competent heir one generation down?

I hate to see another Targaryen woman screwed out of her birth right, but please understand how vastly different this was to what Aegon II and the Greens did. This was not just “oh women shouldn’t rule, male primogeniture is great, fuck my mother Rhaenyra” or “oh I’m a greedy asshole who wants the throne and will screw over my own family to get it”. Viserys is simply a practical man who deals with reality the way that it is, not the way that he wishes it to be.

I also think it is worth considering another thing— from what we know about Viserys II, he deeply loved and was utterly loyal to his brother Aegon. I think it’s fair to say his love would extend to his brothers children. He served Daeron and Baelor faithfully… and they both died young, struck down after their personal follies were amplified to a horrifying extent by the absolute power they wielded. Perhaps Viserys worried that power would drive Daena to a similar fate as her brothers, and felt that he was protecting Aegon’s beloved daughter from herself. Now is that incredibly patronizing? Yes. But it may not have been entirely incorrect, and would be coming from a place of love and good intentions.

At the end of the day, Jace is amazing, but he never had to face the same difficult choices that Viserys II and Aegon III did. He was in a war where the goal was simple : win, and protect your family. But what do you do when forced to choose between your mother’s legacy (not her life, her legacy) and peace for your people? When the choice is ego and pride over safety and stability? When to preserve the future, you must let go of the past? Jace died at 15, before he ever had to face such decisions. At age 13, Viserys stood his ground against the Kingsguard, holding out against a secret seige for 18 days and using his courage and wit to undo all of Unwin Peake’s schemes. No part of me doubts that 15 year old Viserys would have jumped on his dragon and rushed to save a little sibling from the the Battle of the Gullet, dying for his family. Jace and Viserys simply cannot he compared. Jace is forever 15, forever flawless and forever brave and forever our perfect would be king. He will never make a mistake. Viserys had to grow up and realize that not everything is as black and white as sending Sandoq the Shadow to protect your lady wife. It’s kind of like what Maekar said to Duncan after Baelor Breakspear died: anytime anything went wrong, people would say “Baelor would not have let this happen, but the Hedge Knight killed him”. Would Baelor have been a phenomenal king? Absolutely. But it’s hardly fair to assume he could and would have fixed any issue that ever went wrong in Valarr’s (or as it would be, Aerys’) reign.

Now— the Naerys issue. I am not going to defend this one as I defended him ascending the throne over Daena. I love Viserys as a character, and rarely do I love characters because I think they are wholly good. Viserys doomed his own goddamn daughter to life of misery and endless marital rape. That cannot be denied. In truth, Viserys II is much the same as Jaehaerys I. Both great men, great kings… and absolutely godawful fathers.

I will offer some context about it though. Because Viserys did not marry 36 year old Aegon to 33 year old Naerys. He married 18 year old Aegon to 15 year old Naerys (and as to the age thing, this was a normal time for Westerosi women to marry, and Viserys in particular is going to have a messed up view on the matter considering that he was married at 12 and seemed to have developed a kind of fucked up Stockholm-esque love for 19 year old Larra). Now, the accounts make it seem like the extent of Aegon’s awfulness did not become truly apparent until he got a bit older, and the mistakes he made were written off by court and realm as the follies of youth. I think one of Viserys’ biggest mistakes and worst characteristics is that he allowed himself to get so caught up in his duty to his brother and realm, that he utterly neglected his own children. They weren’t living in a massive war as he and his brother did in their childhood, so what guidance did they truly need? I think he felt that Aegon had the lust and gluttony that many spoiled rich kids would have, and that time and stern discipline would set him straight. I don’t think he was paying enough attention to see that Aegon was a burgeoning sociopath. Viserys probably thought that sweet, dutiful Naerys would be a good influence on Aegon, and help shape him into a better person. I think it also was a politically motivated match, some classic oldest son-oldest daughter incest to show the realm that the loss of the dragons did not mean House Targaryen was abandoning its ancient customs.

Again, I truly am not trying to say Viserys was in the right here. He should have cared for his children enough to see how fucked up Aegon was and that he was putting his daughter in an incredibly dangerous situation. If Naerys hated her father and cursed his name and never forgave him, she would be so fucking right to do so. But Viserys in truth reminds me a bit of Maekar— I think he was (either through negligence or stubborn willfullness) ignorant (at that point) to his sons true depravity. Maekar thought Aerion (clear born psychopath, broke Tanselle’s fingers, tried to kill Duncan, threatened to castrate his little brother, threw a cat down a well, drank wildfire, Aerion) was a promising young man who just needed a shove in the right direction— until Aerion’s monstrosity got his Uncle Baelor killed. In the same way, I think Viserys saw Aegon as lazy and gluttonous and lustful… but someone who could still be put on the right path. Then by the time it became clear that that wasn’t the case, and he doomed his daughter to marriage to a rapist sociopath, it was too late. Divorce does not exist in Westeros.

The tragedy was not King Viserys II. The tragedy was King Daeron I, King Baelor I, and King Aegon IV. The worst thing Aegon III and Viserys II did was fathering these absolute fuckfaces. But their sons being the absolute worst does not make them the absolute worst. Even the best most noble and amazing person can be cursed with a psycho as a son. Aegon V, lord protector of smallfolk, had none other than Mad King Aerys himself as a grandson. Had Jace ascended the throne, I promise at some point that corruption and rot will rear its ugly head— whether in his sons, grandsons, great-grandsons, etc. Not because it’s endemic to House Targaryen, but because it’s endemic to humanity and having absolute power be inherited to every first born son no matter what is a terrible idea.

At the end of the day, I stan and love ALL of Rhaenrya’s children. Jace, Luke, Joff, Aegon, Viserys— every single one. I won’t deny Viserys is the worst of them, but he also lived the longest, and as such of course is going to have more fucked up shit to his name than literal children who died fighting a war. My original post was calling out Aegon and Viserys “fans” who shit on the Velaryon boys, and I stand by that. I’ll go to war for the Velaryon boys. But I’ll go to war for Daemyra’s boys too, the broken kids who had to pick up the pieces of their broken realm in the wake of the most catastrophic war westeros ever saw, who never asked or wanted any of it. They did their best.

Edit: I’m now realizing this may have come across as aggressive overkill considering that it is genuinely very fair to criticize Viserys. Apologies Anon😅 I’m just really passionate about him and Aegon III (they are my favorite Targs) and this gave me an excuse to talk about a lot of the thoughts I’ve been meaning to make posts about.

[scorbuslove]

Red Bucket Follies throwback with James Romney (Albus) and Brady Dalton Richards (Scorpius), Broadway Year 3!

Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS

[redliferiot]

ok here i am writing out my thoughts on double life pearl. pulling out my literary analysis brain for an unscripted minecraft series thats how it is

more below cut

so my interpretation of life series pearl (in both last and double life) is fundamentally tied to her relationship with scott so i'll also be speaking abt him alot in this little ramble

scott won last life. last life, fundamentally, was built on blocks of betrayal. while 3rd life had its healthy does of backstabbing, its got nothing on what the boogeyman mechanic introduced. all alliances suddenly got far shakier. no one could really trust anyone, but scott did not play by the rules. during his first time as boogey, he directly told his teammates (never stated to be against the rules but as far as i can tell hes the only person to have done this ever) and goes to kill someone who is specifically against him & his allies (rip impulse). during his second chance at life-series sanctioned amicide, he breaks the rules even further. he downright refuses to kill one of his allies- at this point in the series, anyone not red is his ally, so killing any of them would result in an ally lost. scott remained loyal in a game of backstabbing, and it earned him the victory.

if last life was a game of backstabbing, then double life was a game of loyalty. the soulmate mechanic not only reinforced ties of loyalty- literally paring up players into neat pairs- but it relied on that. if you shared a health bar, you'd have to be loyal to one another, or else you'd die. it's practically set up for scott to succeed, just like he succeeded during last life. if he plays all the same cards, he'll win. the game is designed with him in mind. he's even paired up with his most trusted ally from last life, pearl. he can't lose.

except, he absolutely can, because through the folly of circumstance, he and pearl end the first session wanting nothing to do with each other.

once again scott has broken the rules of the series. he's scorned his soulmate (who, in another life, was such a trusted ally he'd doom himself to red to spare her), and broken the chain. even in a game designed for him, he breaks the rules.

and this is where pearl gets involved

pearl, throughout both last life and double life, is paired with scott- once on their own terms (her terms, really- as she was blessed with extra lives, it was her decision to share her lives with scott that really solidified their alliance), and once by the hands of god. the universe wanted a perfect repeat performance of last life, a celebratory encore of the victory of someone who broke the rules and won despite it, and they did not get it. they did not get their perfect designed ending

instead, they got pearl.

pearl, like scott, does not play by the rules in last life. it's impossible for her to play by the rules, when her soulmate has scorned her so, but she takes it to new levels. She harms her soulmate, directly (ice bucket challenge, anyone?), and in the process also harms herself. she lives alone- scott, at least, has a chosen partner, and martyn spends considerable time trying to get cleo back, but pearl does no such thing. she builds herself an isolated tower and surrounds herself with her army of wolves

pearl's story in double life is, essentially, a story of lonliness (this is reflected in her motifs- lone wolf, wolves & the moon, etc). throughout the series, none of her alliances last long- hardly any make it longer than one episode. she truly is alone, her only constant fried throughout the series being tilly. tilly was there before she knew her soulmate was scott, and she was there after she was scorned. pearl relies on her dogs for protection- as minecraft dogs are very good at providing- but also, for what others refuse her: companionship.

like scott is a loyal victory in a game of traitors, pearl is a lonesome victor in a game of lovers. in the end, she stands alone- scorned and soulmate-less, the winner only because her opponent decided to loose. she, like scott, won a game designed against her. against the wishes of the univese, she stands alone

ANYWAYS tldr pearl and scott both broke the rules of their series and won bc of it, sorry no grian mention even tho i have thoughts about his 3l victory and treasure him dearly he just straight up isnt relevant to this one. might write more of these long ish analysis posts cause i had alot of fun with this one

[jadelemonadee]

HAVE YOU SEEN THAT ONE VIDEO OF PEOPLE SINGING SCHUYLER SISTERS EXCEPT THAYNE SAYS SEABURY INSTEAD OF PEGGY???🤤🤤

YES YES YES THE 2023 RED BUCKET FOLLIES

In fact i have it saved on my phone 😇😇

[awesomelittleprincessjess]

Helen's Uni Diary: Year One

September - Initiation Antics

Alright, diary, here's the tea! Met Nikki during orientation, and we clicked, like, instantly. Our gossip sessions soon fixated on this chap from the opposite dorm. Looked lost, like a lamb waiting to be led. Lightbulb moment? Let's take him under our wing, stir things up a bit! With some sneaky hypnosis and a sprinkle of mischief, our little project began. No more Mr. Guy-From-Across-The-Hall. Welcome, Jasmine.

October - Pretty in Pink

Plan for October? A total wardrobe redo! Hit the high streets with a vision - Jasmine, but like, super femme! Rows and rows of delish dresses called out. Lured her into trying this pastel pink skater dress – think white polka dots, a silky ribbon, and a flirtatious hem. Paired with white ankle socks and cute Mary Janes. She looked like she stepped straight out of a chic mag!

November - Hair-Do Hullabaloo

Alright, that hair? Desperately needed some fab. Nikki's brilliant idea? A total hair makeover! We watched in glee as our fave stylist transformed that mop into an adorable, curly bob. Topped it with a sparkly hairband. Yass, Jasmine, giving us hair goals!

December - Giggles and Goss

Now, December was all about feeling young and merry. Christmas had Jasmine attached to our sides. Carol singing in that transformed voice and her obsession with that unicorn plushie from Secret Santa? Pure childlike joy.

January - Make-up Makeover

For January? We planned a subtler touch. Not just femme but younger, more innocent. Nikki and I played fairy godmothers, introducing Jasmine to a world of blush, mascara, and soft shiny lip gloss. A face that shouted teen spirit!

February - Valentine’s Vexation

A girly-girl Valentine was the vibe. Teased Jasmine with secret admirer notes. Oh, and the outfit? A youthful red dress, short but not too short, and with delicate lacework. She looked like a teen crushing hard for the first time.

March - Dress to Impress

Here's where the age games began. Imagined Jasmine, not just as a teen but younger. Got her a lavender dress for the uni’s spring event - floral lace, puffy sleeves, and enough tulle to make her twirl. She looked every inch the excited pre-teen.

April - Easter Elation

Easter was about innocence. Vision? Jasmine as a kiddo on an egg hunt. Watching her in that pastel yellow kiddie frock, hunting eggs? Pure gold! Her finding the smallest ones? May have rigged it a tad.

May - Ballet Bamboozle

May's plan? Delight in Jasmine’s childlike wonder. Enrolled her in a beginner's ballet class. Her in a tight leotard, fluffy tutu, struggling with basic moves? Adorable doesn't even cover it!

June - Sunny Daze and Plays

June’s mission? A beach baby day out. Pictured Jasmine building sandcastles, and she did! In a frilly swimsuit, her giggles, and that mermaid-themed bucket and spade? Childhood revisited.

July - Festival Follies

For July, the festival scene beckoned. But Jasmine wasn't just attending, she was living it as a free-spirited child. In a boho dress and a flower crown, she was the festival's little fairy.

August - Reflections and Resolutions

Come August, Nikki and I took a step back to admire our masterpiece. From lost lad to innocent child, it was quite the journey! But, diary, we've only just begun. There's more on the horizon, cheekier plots, and plans. Stay tuned!

[michaelgruberfan]

Broadway Cares 3rd Annual "Gypsy Of The Year" (Now called Red Bucket Follies). Miss Saigon's first year performing and they also won this year! Photo from Alan Ariano's Facebook (X) and video from Ray Santos's Facebook (X) Gruber in the photo is in the top right while in the video he is in the ensemble.

[experimentalmonster2015]

A full and complete adventure time ranking.

every rank below A is done by episode placement in season not how good it is. however, in rank A these are all episodes i consider "perfect". episodes in rank a are done by how good i think they are not by episode placement. i know its confusing. reblong or comment if you have any questions.

Rank A

S4 E25 I Remember You

S3 E17 Thank You

S3 E9 Fionna and Cake

S1 E18 Dungeon

S3 E10 What was Missing

S5 E5 All the Little People

S6 E7 Food Chain

Rank B

S1 E23 Rainy Day Daydream

S2 E16 Guardians of Sunshine

Rank C

S2 E13 The Pods

S2 E21 Belly of the Beast

S3 E20 Holly Jolly Secrets Part 2

S4 E16 Burning Low

S5 E16 Puhoy

S6 E2 Escape from the Citadel

Rank D

S2 E2 The Eyes

S3 E5 Too Young

S4 E13 Princess Cookie

S5 E33 Time Sandwich

S5 E43 Root Beer Guy

S6 E20 Jake The Brick

Rank E

S2 E9 The Other Tarts

S2 E24 Mortal Folly

S3 E3 Memory of a Memory

S4 E26 The Lich

S6 E36 Hoots

S7 E24 The Hall of Egress

Rank F

S4 E14 Card Wars

S5 E20 Shh!

S5 E45 Blade of Grass

S9 E4 Elements: Winter Light

S10 E1 The Wild Hunt

Rank G

S2 E19 Mystery Train

S2 E25 Mortal Recoil

S3 E13 From Bad to Worse

S4 E2 Five Short Graybles

S5 E48 Betty

S6 E3 James II

S6 E4 The Tower

S6 E24 Evergreen

S8 E27 Islands: The Light Cloud

S10 E4 Bonnibel Bubblegum

S10 E13 Come Along With Me

Rank H

S1 E10 Memories of Boom Boom Mountain

S2 E1 It came from the Nightosphere

S2 E15 The Real You

S2 E17 Death in Bloom

S3 E4 Hitman

S3 E14 Beautopia

S3 E21 Marceline’s Closet

S5 E11 Bad Little Boy

S5 E14 Simon & Marcy

S6 E16 Joshua & Margaret Investigations

S6 E19 Is That You?

S7 E6 Stakes: Marceline the Vampire Queen

S8 E8 Elemental

S9 E10 Abstract

Rank I

S1 E8 Buisness Time

S1 E9 My Two Favorite People

S1 E12 Evicted!

S1 E26 Gut Grinder

S2 E4 Blood Under the Skin

S2 E10 To Cut a Woman’s Hair

S2 E22 The Limit

S4 E15 Sons of Mars

S4 E19 Lady & Peebles

S5 E24 Another Five More Short Graybles

S5 E28 Be More

S5 E46 Rattleballs

S6 E1 Wake Up

S7 E11 Stakes: Take Her Back

S7 E13 Stakes: The Dark Cloud

S8 E10 The Music Hole

Rank J

S1 E5 The Enchiridion!

S1 E11 Wizard

S2 E3 Loyalty to the King

S2 E11 The Chamber of Frozen Blades

S3 E16 Jake Vs Me Mow

S4 E20 You MADE me!

S5 E8 Mystery Dungeon

S5 E26 Wizards only, Fools

S5 E36 Dungeon Train

S5 E39 We Fixed a Truck

S5 E50 Lemonhope part one

S6 E13 Thanks for the Crabbapples, Giuseepe

S6 E40 Orgalorg

S7 E3 Cherry Cream Soda

S7 E5 Football

S7 E8 Stakes: Vamps About

S7 E9: Stakes: the empress eyes

S7 E20 Bad Jubies

S9 E1 Orb

S9 E3 Elements: Bespoken For

S9 E6 Elements: Slime Central

S9 E7 Elements: Happy Warrior

S10 E12 Gumbaldia

Rank K

S2 E14 The Silent King

S2 E18 Susan Strong

S2 E20 Go With Me

S2 E23 Video Makers

S3 E12 The Creeps

S4 E17 BMO Noire

S4 E18 King Worm

S5 E12 Vault of Bones

S6 E11 Little Brother

S6 E30 The Diary

S6 E31 Walnuts & Rain

S7 E1 Bonnie and Neddy

S7 E10 Stakes: May I Come In?

S7 E12 Stakes: Checkmate

S7 E19 Blank Eyed Girl

S7 E22 Scamps

S7 E23 Crossover

S7 E26 The Thin Yellow Line

S8 E1 Broke His Crown

S8 E2 Don’t Look

S8 E6 Bun Bun

S8 E11 Daddy-Daughter Card Wars

S8 E26 Helpers

S9 E2 Elements: Skyhooks

S9 E5 Elements: Cloudy

S10 E5 Seventeen

S10 E7 Marcy & Huntson

S10 E10 Jake the Starchild

S10 E11 Temple of Mars

Rank L

S1 E13 City of Thieves

S1 E16 Ocean of Fear

S2 E5 Storytelling

S3 E1 Conquest of Cuteness

S3 E15 No One Can Hear You

S3 E22 Paper Pete

S4 E1 Hot to the Touch

S5 E2 Jake the Dog

S5 E6 Jake the Dad

S5 E9 All Your Fault

S5 E17 BMO lost

S5 E27 Jake Suit

S5 E29 Sky Witch

S5 E47 The Red Throne

S5 E49 Bad Timing

S5 E51 Lemonhope part 2

S5 E52 Billy’s Bucket List

S6 E8 Furniture & Meat

S6 E15 Nemesis

S6 E23 The Pajama War

S6 E27 The Visitor

S6 E28 The Mountain

S6 E29 Dark Purple

S6 E33 Jermaine

S6 E5 Grables 1000+

S6 E39 Be Sweet

Rank M

S1 E24 What have you done?

S1 E25 His Hero

S2 E12 Her Parents

S4 E5 Return to the Nightosphere

S4 E8 Hug Wolf

S4 E9 Princess Monster Wife

S4 E10 Goliad

S4 E11 Beyond this Earthly Realm

S5 E1 Finn The Human

S5 E3 Five more short Graybles

S5 E7 Davey

S5 E25 Candy Streets

S5 E32 Earth & Water

S6 E5 Sad Face

S6 E6 Breezy

S6 E10 Something Big

S6 E14 Princess Day

S6 E26 Gold Stars

S7 E7 Stakes: Everything Stays

S7 E21 King’s Ransom

S8 E21 Islands: Whippie the Happy Dragon

S8 E25 Min & Marty

S9 E14 Three Buckets

S10 E8 The First Investigation

Rank N

S2 E7 Power Animal

S3 E26 Incendium

S4 E3 Web Weirdos

S4 E22 Ignition Point

S5 E34 The Vault

S6 E25 Astral Plane

Rank O

S1 E4 Tree Trunks

S1 E7 Ricardio the Heart Guy

S1 E19 The Duke

S1 E20 Freak City

S2 E8 Crystals Have Power

S3 E7 Still

S4 E6 Daddy’s Little Monster

S4 E7 In Your Footsteps

S5 E4 Up a Tree

S5 E15 A Glitch is a Glitch

S5 E31 Too Old

S5 E37 The Box Prince

S6 E12 Ocarina

S6 E18 Everything’s Jake

S6 E36 Hoots

S7 E14 The Moe you Know, The Moe you Know

S7 E17 Angel Face

S8 E15 Do no Harm

S8 E24 Islands: Hide and Seek

S9 E11 Ketchup

Rank P

S1 E6 The Jiggler

S1 E14 The Witch’s Garden

S1 E15 What is Life?

S1 E22 Henchman

S5 E23 One Last Job

S5 E30 Frost & Fire

S6 E21 Dentist

S6 E32 Friends Forever

S6 E34 Chips & Ice Cream

S7 E2 Varmints

S7 E18 President Porpoise is Missing!

S7 E25 Flute Spell

S8 E4 Lady Rainicorn of the Crystal Dimension

S8 E12 Preboot

S8 E13 Reboot

Rank Q

S1 E1 Slumber Party Panic

S1 E2 Trouble in Lumpy Space

S3 E2 Morituri te Salutamus

S3 E25 Dad’s Dungeon

S4 E24 Reign of Gunters

S5 E22 Party’s Over, Isla de Senorita

S5 E38 Red Starved

S5 E42 James

S8 E3 Beyond the Grotto

S8 E5 I am a Sword

S8 E18 Horse and Ball

S9 E13 Whispers

S10 E6 Ring of Fire

Rank R

S3 E18 The New Frontier

S3 E19 Holly Jolly Secrets part one

S5 E10 Little Dude

S5 E18 Princess Potluck

S6 E22 The Cooler

S6 E42 Hot Diggity Doom

S7 E16 Summer Showers

S8 E7 Normal Man

S8 E20 Islands: The Invitation

S10 E3 Son of Rap Bear

Rank S

S1 E17 When Wedding Bells Thaw

S3 E6 The Monster

S3 E8 Wizard Battle

S3 E11 Apple Thief

S3 E23 Another Way

S4 E23 The Hard Easy

S5 E13 The Great Bird Man

S5 E40 Play Date

S5 E44 Apple Wedding

S6 E9 The Prince Who Wanted Everything

S8 E9 Five Short Tables

S8 E22 Islands: Mysterious Island

S8 E23 Islands: Imaginary Resources

Rank T

S1 E21 Donny

S5 E19 James Baxter the Horse

S5 E41 The Pit

Rank U

S1 E3 Prisoners of Love

S3 E24 Ghost Princess

S4 E12 Gotcha!

S6 E38 You Forgot Your Floaties

S6 E41 On The Lam

S7 E4 Mama Said

S8 E19 Jelly Beans have Power

S10 E2 Always BMO Closing

S10 E9 Blenanas

Rank V

S2 E6 Slow Love

S2 E26 Heat Signature

S8 E17 High Strangeness

[carli-meows]

Apocageddon - Tinky Winky

litres like fizzy faygo, lemon shipped by the crate load

This is where I be, dripped out by the milli

And in my land, I reprimand; I demand, top demands

Like this was Laa-Laa-Land, I represent, man

Make you wanna shout and get some attention

I'm no attention whore, but now that you mentioned

I mentioned it once before, but I'm not really sorry

Sorry that I brought the reckoning, I keep it upon me

Apollyollyon is upon ye, all ye run, see

a place thats disgraced G, you can help but cry see

The skies run red with black spots and stars die

and blood fills my lungs, I'm out of luck, I can't sigh

So all the static three- me, Po and Dipsy

All we got is blessed, spared, somehow worthy

Earthquakes drummin, demons been summoned

Even angels are here and they both fear what's comin'

Apocalyptic Apocalypse

(Oh GOD) and Armageddon

Apollyonageddon (Oh GOD)

Apocageddon spreading

Apocalyptic Apocalypse

(Oh GOD) and Armageddon

Apollyonageddon (Oh GOD)

Apocageddon spreading

Oh my god, I mean gosh, it's folly

Got my knees buckling, oh god, oh golly

oh gosh this, and oh geez that

events like this cause constant panic attacks

Dipsy said relax, there's no sense in stoppin him

Laa said somethin similar, warned against poppin him

Noo-Noo, the Flowers and the Tin poles are all gone

and now we're with the hue one, the end, Apollyon

you're scared? man me too i won't lie

he assured our safety, said that we won't die

Still with the pulsating sky and earth quaking

How the fuck can I tell he ain't faking?

Faith! Surley that's enough, 30 years and more,

surley it's no bluff, as i curl upon the floor

He replaced his real name with this terrifying new one

Apollyon is arriving with the crash of the blue dawn!

Apocalyptic Apocalypse

(Oh GOD) and Armageddon

Apollyonageddon (Oh GOD)

Apocageddon spreading

Apocalyptic Apocalypse

(Oh GOD) and Armageddon

Apollyonageddon (Oh GOD)

Apocageddon spreading

It's Apocageddon and it's upon ye mortals

This will stain universe's versals inside portals

Even when you're getting lit up out at the club

You feel it approaching like the death of doves

I was told of it's arrival, I got my crying out early

Got my bucket list goin, got my riding out, hurry

So when it finally touches down upon this cursed earth

I get lit as fuck and sit back, no hurt

It's always been there, like a beauty marking

When it finally comes, best get to parking

Your friends, your foes, woes, it don't matter

'ollyon leaves no trace, nary a blood splatter

It's the worst of the worst, worst possible outcome

The unavoidable thunder, the loudest bass drum

Heart pouding panic, entraps all at once

No need to scream, the silence beats you to the punch

Apocalyptic Apocalypse

(Oh GOD) and Armageddon

Apollyonageddon (Oh GOD)

Apocageddon spreading

Apocalyptic Apocalypse

(Oh GOD) and Armageddon

Apollyonageddon (Oh GOD)

Apocageddon spreading

The one, thy only- Cursed upon thee

Apologies if you thought you could ever cease me

My eternal flame remains upon your nature's way

Apologies, if you'll excuse me Apocageddon's today

The sky flickers and flashes as I appear in evey shadow

Every reflection world wide, as I float and glide

Down upon ye sinful, I become mirthful

The product of what you sow, I'll even put on a little show

I turn the rich into the needy, and they join the masses

The undead crawls upon stolen land in golf course grasses

The concrete gets overtaken by poisonous moss

And the crumbling of time studders to a pause

Apocageddon is simply where you were heading

now you can clearly see me approaching everlong

Apologies if you ever thought you could cease me

The one, thy only- Apollyon

And you're, like, ABSOLUTELY sure we'll be fine during this apocalypse?

Yeah, Tee, I'm big worried about this... All of us are!

Apocageddon, and yes, you'll all be safe. For the most part.

AHHHH, I knew yer ass would say some shite like that, for the most part my ass, fuck outta here cunt.

WELL, WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO, I'M INEVITABLE!

[jgroffdaily]

A short clip from a BCEFA video at the Red Bucket Follies. The clip appears to be when Merrily won the award for being the top fundraiser this season, and Daniel Radcliffe and Leana Rae Concepcion ran on to the stage to hug Jonathan.

[jonathangroffappreciation]

Jonathan, Christian Borle, Adrienne Warren and Daniel J Watts at the Red Bucket Follies event which raised $5,631,888, the second-highest fall fundraising total in Broadway Cares history. Posted on the Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS Facebook page on 13 December 2019.

[rhythmstarfruitcitrus]

A few shots from the 2019 Red Bucket Follies - 12/10/19.

Moulin Rouge was the top fundraiser among the broadway musicals. Overall, over $5 million was raised for BCEFA by broadway, off-broadway, and touring companies!

📸: 1st Pic - Tam Mutu/Instagram, 2nd & 3rd - Sam Cahn/Instagram

[moulinrougefanfanfans]

This past Friday, October 25th, Moulin Rouge began fundraising for @bcefa’s Red Bucket Follies Campaign! After each performance for the next 6 weeks they will be accepting donations towards BCEFA. Nothing is too small to give so please consider donating if you are at the show. And as fun incentives, Moulin Rouge has cast-signed Posters ($300 donation) and Playbills ($80 donation) available as well as BCEFA’s yearly Carols for a Cure CD ($20). 

Every dollar placed in the iconic #redbuckets will help provide lifesaving medication, healthy meals, emergency financial assistance and more to the most vulnerable among us. A $10 donation covers an HIV test at a health clinic. A $50 donation provides 10 full grocery bags from a food pantry or 20 home delivered meals to the disabled and most vulnerable among us.

[constantcompanion]

The Radio City Chanukah Spectacular

"Ladies and gentlemen, goys and girls..."

[reinvent-and-believe]

saying your names

Prompt: hallucination Relationships:  Geralt & Visenna  Rating: T Content Warnings: unintentional but constant misgendering by a parent; depiction of gender dysphoria in a small child; reference to child self-injury (scratching); abandonment issues; minor book spoilers Summary: Visenna's child is claimed by a witcher through the Law of Surprise. When she bears a daughter instead of the promised son, she thinks she's cheated Destiny. But Destiny rarely accepts such defeat. (Or - the trans Geralt mommy issues fic)

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo​

-

i. The Brave Knight

There’s an old fairy tale from far-away Toussaint, one Visenna remembers her grandmother telling her when she was little more than a babe, of a cohort of the bravest knights who gathered at the behest of the first duke to slay monsters and defeat villains and protect the land from all manner of evil. They were five in total, but none rivalled the gallant Sir Geralt, who defended the innocent and the weak, who perfectly embodied the Virtues, who fearlessly and faithfully loved the beautiful maiden Liliana. It’s a story like no other, full of heroics and chivalry, grand quests and epic romance. Visenna remembers sighing as a little girl, of braiding flowers into her shining copper hair and pretending to be Lady Liliana, rescued by that most puissant and most chivalrous of knights.

She hopes that her own daughter will love the tales as much as she did, so she recounts them while Greta lies in bed, wide dark eyes barely blinking as she soaks in every detail. She’s two now and obsessed with stories, any silly rambling thing Visenna remembers from childhood or improvises about the forest creatures near the village, but none have captivated her quite like this tale.

The next day, Visenna hears her daughter whacking at the swaying cattails at the bank of the river with a stick. “I defeat you!” comes the tremulous cry. “I Sir Geralt! I brave knight!”

It’s a small thing, and silly, yet Visenna goes cold.

ii. The Babe

When she realizes she’s with child, Visenna knows it will be a boy, feels it as sure as she feels the wind on her face, the blood pounding in her veins. She’s happy for a time. She knows the horrors women face, has seen, has felt firsthand the cruelties the world inflicts on beautiful little girls. Better a boy, then. Better a boy with a chance at a good life, a boy she can teach and train, a boy who won’t beat or violate or torment.

A mere month before the babe is due, the man returns, and finds her with child, and tells her what he’s done. He blames Destiny and the Law of Surprise and Tradition as Visenna learns a new type of cruelty men can inflict.

And so she hardens herself, tells herself that she will not become attached to what’s growing within her, this life promised to pay a life debt. “Don’t be absurd,” her friends tell her, through nervous glances. “You always assume the worst. It may well be a girl. The witcher won’t have need of a girl.”

But Visenna knows it, feels it with every spark of chaos within her and every pulse she sends out. The babe will be a boy, and she will have to give him up to the witchers, to be trained and transmuted into something other, something more and something less than the child she’ll birth.

And so Visenna grows cold.

When the midwife puts the squalling red girl with dark hair and wide dark eyes in Visenna’s arms, she sobs for days, sobs until she has no tears left and her eyes are raw and swollen. She won’t let the tiny thing out of her sight, barely lets others hold the babe, even in her utter exhaustion. Destiny may have promised her child to the witchers, but Destiny made the folly of giving her a daughter instead of the promised son.

iii. Greta

Greta will not wear her clothes.

At first, it’s almost a game. Visenna dresses her in a frock while the three-year-old protests then glares in turn when she’s overridden. She moves stiffly in the garment, pulling at the sleeves and tugging at the skirt, but she complies. But the minute she’s out of her mother’s sight, the dress comes off, and Visenna finds her naked, regardless of the weather. And the process repeats.

The struggle over clothing is only the beginning. Generally obedient, respectful, intelligent, Greta is nonetheless not an easy child, prone to inconsolable fits of panic and distress, prone to disappearing if not constantly monitored. It’s as though Visenna has birthed two different children. There’s the sullen, timid girl who hates wearing clothing, who barely speaks, who flinches at the sound of her own name, who stiffens in panic sometimes when she’s called, who cries at the slightest provocation, who goes missing only to be found after a frantic hour of searching lying on the floor in the narrow space between her bed and the wall, staring blankly, hearing nothing, seeing nothing. Then there’s the other child, the one who cuts dark curls short with the pruning shears from the shed, who runs fearlessly through the woods, slaying invisible monsters all around, yelling and laughing and breathless.

When a young couple with a son not much older than Greta moves into a nearby cottage, Visenna hopes that companionship will stabilize her daughter’s volatile, inexplicable moods. Instead, it leads to an immediate altercation: on the first day Greta and the boy Marek play together, the boy’s father shows up on Visenna’s doorstep, furious, with a wide, bleeding gash in his hand. He’d found them wearing each other’s clothes, he tells her. Greta had refused to surrender Marek’s clothes, and when he moved to force her out of them, she’d bitten his hand. “Like a rabid beast,” he spits out as Visenna runs past him to the small shack where Greta makes herself as small as possible, shaking all over.

Visenna shoves a few coins at the man with a glare. “Buy your son another outfit,” she snaps, and when she kneels down to Greta’s level the terrified child’s arms wrap immediately around her neck. She takes her child home in the roughspun tunic and trousers.

(Maybe she should punish the child for biting, but Visenna knows the ways men can be cruel, had seen the terror in her child’s huge brown eyes. Even if he meant no harm in trying to retrieve his son’s clothes, she can’t help being glad the child bit him rather than permit his touch.)

Visenna has never listened to Greta’s thoughts before, rarely listens to anyone’s on purpose, hates the uneasy sense of violation the act stirs up in her. But as she carries the silent, shaking child home, the thoughts ring so loudly she can’t keep them out.

Not an idiot girl. Not an idiot girl. Not an idiot girl. Not an idiot girl.

Then:

Not a girl.

Not a girl.

Not a girl.

Not a girl.

iv. The Child

The morning after the incident with the neighbor, Visenna lays two outfits side by side on the bed: the tunic and trousers nicked from the neighbor boy, or the dress most frequently tolerated, a plain shift of soft linen, comfortable and loose.

"Which would you rather wear today?" Visenna asks, making the beds as usual. She hears the sharp intake of breath, sees out of the corner of her eye the hesitation, and then the child grabs the boy's clothes and cradles them in trembling arms.

Visenna visits a tailor and trades in little frocks for breeches and shirts. She watches her child’s face light up when she presents them, watches the child run reverent fingers over each garment, little hands doing their best to neatly fold each piece.

She stops calling the child Greta; stops calling the child anything but child. The child doesn’t seem to mind this namelessness; on the contrary, the child thrives. The too-thin frame rounds out with healthy, nearly chubby development as the child begins to eat more than a few bites at each meal; weak, skinny arms and legs grow strong with constant running and playing in the woods near the house. Banished is the pale, terrified little girl; only the rambunctious, talkative, joyful child remains.

"When I'm a knight," the child tells her one day, coming in from the yard wearing a bucket as a helmet, "I'm going to ride a big horse."

"Oh, a big horse," Visenna echoes, ladling the soup into a wooden bowl and blowing gently to cool it. "What will you name the horse?"

The child considers this. "Does it have to have a name?"

"All creatures need a name."

The child doesn't speak for a long while. Then that piping, gentle voice rings out. "What if the horse hates its name? It won’t be able to tell me."

Visenna sets the bowl down on the table. She doesn't ask any of the questions pounding through her head as she looks at her nameless child, lost in thought. She doesn’t think about Destiny, how a witcher may well show up at her door at any moment looking for their payment, doesn’t think about taking the child there herself. "Helmet off," she says instead, running a hand through dark curls when the child obeys. "Come, eat your soup."

v. The Butcher

She first hears whispers of the Butcher of Blaviken when she’s traveling through Poviss, brought north by an outbreak of smallpox needing healers. She hears of the vile, deranged, white-haired witcher who slaughtered nearly an entire village unprovoked, even women and children. She thinks little of it. The child she left with the witchers over half a century ago had brown hair, and the years would not have turned it so quickly, not on a witcher.

If he’s even still alive.

She puts the thought away, carefully, as she has for decades.

She thinks of it a little more in Kovir. “You’re one of them!” shrieks a woman in the tavern, pointing at a bulky man sitting in the corner. “One of them witchers like that Butcher! I seen your wolf necklace!”

All eyes train onto this disfigured witcher who is not Visenna’s child. (Does her child bear scars like this? Do his shoulders stoop in such defeat?) He scrubs a square hand over his face, looking almost pained, before he shoves away from the table in silence and leaves.

School of the Wolf, then, just like the witcher she’d surrendered her child to with naught but a letter left at the inn where he was staying. Your Child Surprise will be at the crossroads by the river at midday. A few brief, stilted sentences explaining that the child was different from other boys but Destiny had chosen him nonetheless. A terse plea that the witcher treat the child with kindness, to protect him if he could. A postscript, written in a shakier hand than the rest of the letter. My son’s name is Geralt.

Vesemir. The child’s father had called him old, grey-haired even then. Is Vesemir this Butcher, the ruthless, barbarous old witcher who leaves a trail of fresh corpses in his wake? Had she entrusted the helpless child to a merciless brute all these years ago?

It’s not until the notice board outside of Tridam that she understands. It’s a fairly standard notice concerning some vague, nondescript monster that’s caused disappearances, pleading for help from any witcher, excepting the butcher Geralt. Show your face in Tridam and we’ll finish you off like they should have done in Blaviken.

Her child, the Butcher of Blaviken.

She doesn’t know what happened in Blaviken, can’t find a clear telling. Killed a woman, some say, killed an army, killed all but three people, killed everyone down to the dogs and cows and sheep in his rage. Tales grow in the telling, she knows, but she can’t dispute it. Perhaps he is evil incarnate, perhaps by sending him to the witchers she doomed the continent to bloodshed, perhaps he is the monster in these furious whispers.

But she can’t help remembering the tiny, terrified body, rocking in the corner of a shack, those wide eyes staring up at her in panic. “Like a rabid beast,” the man had said, but Visenna found only a petrified child shaking in the corner.

vi. The White Wolf

The young man swaggers towards Visenna. Between the bright turquoise doublet, the enormous feather swooping dramatically through the air on his jauntily tilted hat, and the self-assurance of his stride, he looks like a veritable peacock.

It’s her own fault. She knows she’d been staring, but the sound of that name on his lips…

“Lovely evening, isn’t it?” His smile is bright and surprisingly genuine, reaching all the way up to his eager blue eyes. He’s younger up close than she’d imagined from across the tavern, barely more than a boy. “Though not half so lovely as you, I daresay. Might I interest you in a drink?”

She nods, silent. Watches him charm a passing barmaid who blushes and quickly returns with the desired ale. He slips into the chair across from Visenna, resting his elbows on the table and lacing his long fingers together beneath his chin, fixing her with a wide-eyed, adoring smile.

Before he can speak, she asks, “Your song. About the witcher.” She pauses, unsure what she means to ask. “Did you write it?”

Somehow the boy looks even more delighted. “Indeed I did! By the gods, it’s wonderful to chat with a fan. It’s one of my most recent compositions. How did you like it?”

“Hmm.” The boy’s song had been so jarringly different from any reference to the child she bore than she’s ever heard. In the bard’s honeyed voice, he sounded almost heroic. She hesitates. “Do you know him?”

“Only a little,” he admits, but there’s a slight flush on his childish face that he attempts to cover with bravado. “The song is the true telling of our grand adventure. I accompanied the White Wolf on his quest to defeat the Devil of Posada, the most terrifying monster to ever...well, terrorize the good people of the Valley of the Flowers.”

“And he’s...he’s not what people say?” Those huge brown eyes staring up at her, tiny body trembling. “Not a butcher?”

“Oh my good lady, not at all!” The bard’s expression of dismay is guileless, earnest. “He saved me, put himself between me and harm’s way when we were captured by the elves, offered his own life for mine.”

A life debt. Just as the child’s father had promised the Law of Surprise to the old witcher, the vow that had set the course of Geralt’s life before he was even born. And now this strange boy owes Geralt a life debt of his own.

“So that’s why,” she confirms cautiously. “Why you write songs for him. Make him the hero when men would be more than happy to remember him as a monster.”

The boy hesitates, his charismatic blustering slipping as he bites at his bottom lip. He reaches distractedly into his pocket, finding some trinket he rolls about in his palm to occupy his busy, nervous hand before he slowly answers. “Even if he hadn’t saved my life I would have written about him. Well, not if I hadn’t survived that particular encounter, of course. But if I’d gotten away myself, or if I hadn’t followed him into the wild in the first place, I would still have written about him.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I…I don’t think he’s known very much kindness.” The bard doesn’t look at her, quite, as he speaks, slower and softer than before. “You ought to see the way he responds to a simple compliment, you’d think his head might explode, he twitches and looks bewildered and grunts angrily. It’d be amusing if it weren’t so very sad.” He’s quiet for a moment, tracing the wood grain in the table with his eyes as he gathers his thoughts. “But he’s kind, even if the world isn’t. He gave his reward for the contract to the…well, to someone who needed it more. And before that, he…” He glances down at the dull gold coin between his fingers, rubbing absently at worn, beveled edges, his face flushing prettily. “He liked my singing.”

She watches the bard, lost in thought and fiddling with a lone coin, for a long while.

vii. Geralt

A slip of a thing running through the woods. Frightened. Alone.

A fight. Gruesome, brutal, fast.

The stench of decay.

“And me? What did I do? I bandaged a wounded man who’d fainted away and put him on my cart and didn’t leave him to expire. It’s an ordinary matter.”

“It’s not so ordinary. I’ve been left...in similar situations...like a dog.”

Blood. Not running, red and healthy and clean; slow. Thick. Dark. Foul.

Infection.

Youths dancing in lusty delight on a warm spring night. A woman with raven curls, naked and wistful in his arms, the warmth of a bonfire lighting her face a beautiful gold. Children screaming, playing in a dried moat. A queen, formidable and sneering, full of contempt.

Hideous wounds, threatening the leg. Amputation may be necessary, without immediate intervention.

Resin in the air.

Ashen hair matted over the clumped, drying cake of blood deforming half of a pale face.

Black potion with a green seal. And then darkness.

Visenna awakes with a start.

The druids’ campsite is still, the last embers of the fire the only light in the darkness of the forest. She pulls the woolen cloak around her thin shoulders, grabs her medical bag, and goes to find the witcher that was once her child.

She finds him a pale and bloody mess on the back of a cart, eyes open and unseeing. He’s racked with feverish chills as his body desperately attempts to fight the infection poisoning him.

She helps the merchant move Geralt carefully onto blankets on the ground. She tends to him, as she’s tended to thousands of others. She cleans his wounds, scraping destroyed, decaying flesh away from healthy tissue, pulling the gentle pulses of chaos from the earth to purify his blood, draining infection and necrosis and narcotic alike from him.

She’d cleaned blood and dirt and debris from scraped knees, once, the too-fast beating of a little, huge heart pounding so loudly she could feel it. The wounds of childhood.

His pulse is slow, the drumbeat of a dirge.

She’s warm all over, suddenly, then cold. Her vision swims before her eyes.

A little more. The pulsing wanes, wavers as she begins to join him in the dark void beyond consciousness.

No.

She breathes, her eyes closed, then returns to her work.

She feels him stirring before he makes a movement, senses him swimming to the surface, coming to. He’s quiet, still, blank. When his eyes open, he’s staring at the treetops above them. His face is impassive. Lifeless.

The way she would find him, sometimes, after he went missing as a child. Staring at nothing. Trying not to be.

She can hear it in his voice. He knows.

His leg will heal, now. She’s done all she can.

She moves on to the bedsores, massaging ointment carefully into the open wounds. His body is stiff and unyielding beneath her touch.

She gives him what she can. “It’s my profession,” she says. Her voice is steady, cool. It’s no excuse, no answer, but it’s what she has. “The only thing I’ve ever been good at.” This much at least is true. This much she can give him.

She’s always known she would meet him again. She never sought him out, never avoided him. “People linked by destiny will always find each other.” She hears it, as though it’s someone else’s voice.

“I want you to look at me.” It’s a snarl. Not a sound she’s heard from those lips before. “How do you like my eyes? Do you know, Visenna, what they do to a witcher to improve his eyes?”

She knows enough. She meets his gaze.

Those eyes, the greatest marker of his difference, his inhumanity. They’re golden, now, instead of brown. His pupils are wide, round, black, pained. They aren’t so different. So monstrous.

Just the eyes of a terrified child lashing out in desperation.

“Do you know it doesn’t always work?” he demands.

“Stop it, Geralt.”

And something breaks.

“You don’t get to use that name!” There’s a frantic rage dripping off every syllable, hatred and agony, like a festering wound ripped open and left to bleed. He glares at her with a wild fury. “Vesemir gave me that name.”

And he’s a child, he’s three years old and screaming like he’s being tortured when she calls his given name. He’s five and distraught over the thought of a horse who hates its name and can’t tell anyone. He’s four and he’s a trembling mess with blood beneath his fingernails, shaking and unable to stop ripping at his own flesh.

“You trusted Destiny rather than trying to find me yourself,” he begs.

A child with nothing in the world running through the forest and into the arms of a witcher.

There’s a tear running down her face. It’s the only thing she can feel. “Don’t ask me any more questions,” Visenna says softly.

“Why?”

She’d known since before he was born that she wasn’t to keep him. That Destiny had other plans.

When she thought she had a daughter, there was hope.

“The answers will only hurt us both.” Carefully, Visenna presses him back into the makeshift sickbed.

“Yen was right.” His voice is low, barely audible, a broken murmur. “It’s not enough to be destined for each other.”

A child runs through the woods and finds a witcher waiting.

Brown curls become ashen locks. Eyes swirling brown and gold and green.

“Something more is needed.” He’s not speaking to her anymore. He’s staring up, at the treetops and through them to the stars above, his eyes losing and regaining focus. “I...I want…”

“No.” Her voice is soft, and she sees him relax into the smooth cadence in spite of himself. “Go to sleep, Geralt.” She hesitates as his eyes grow heavy, begin to drift shut, and she can’t help leaning toward him to gently whisper, “And just between us, Vesemir didn’t give you that name.” She lets herself reach out, carefully brushing white hair off his sweating brow. “It doesn’t change anything, but I’d like you to know that.”

“Visenna…”

“Sleep. I was just a dream.” She hesitates, watching silently as he fights the exhaustion, like a child fighting to stay awake past his bedtime, begging for one more story. “Sleep, Sir Geralt.”

He does.

viii. Sir Geralt

She does not see him again.

She travels to Sodden and heals the injured, soldier and mage alike.

She hears tales, as she has for years.

Geralt’s kidnapped a young Cintran princess for unspeakable, nefarious purposes.

Geralt died on Thanedd, caught up by chance in the mages’ bloody revolt.

Geralt led the forces of Lyria and Rivia against Nilfgaard, earning himself a knighthood and a position in Queen Meve’s army.

(She doesn’t believe any of them, doesn’t let herself care either way, but she hopes the latter is true. Hopes he lives out the rest of his days a brave knight, as he always dreamed of becoming.)

Visenna works. Cleans and stitches and bandages wounds, wanders from battleground to battleground. There’s no shortage of work for a healer.

So many tales of Geralt the witcher, Geralt the traitor, Geralt the butcher, the knight, the outlaw, the hero, the father. Of his victories and defeats, his loves and enemies, his transcendence, his demise.

Visenna listens to them all. Collects the stories, the lies, the praises, the calumnies. She draws them carefully within her. Carries them with her as she continues on the path.

For all the rumors and speculation and ballads, of all things, for all the different Geralts, there’s one that’s hers and hers alone. A skinny, adventurous child with brown curls and a bucket-helmet falling into his eyes who swings a gnarled oak stick as a sword. He’s ever vigilant, ever ready to defend the weak against the unrelenting onslaught of monsters only he can see.