#sorry this is slightly shit

[garbomode]

i just wanna talk about the parallels between 1x05 and 2x07 for a minute

so both episodes start with them trying each other's thing. Stede learning how to be a real pirate and Ed trying to be a gentleman and make a nice(ish) breakfast.

thennnn we get to the meat of the episode & stede and ed each expect that they'll be the center of attention for the aristocrats and pirates, respectively

but! it ends up being the other way around!

sooo they're just absolutely killing it in front of all these people, having a great fuckin time and fitting in

they get to be a little silly and goofy :)

then, they have a little talk, saying yeah this seems great, but you need to be careful because these people can be unpredictable.

and as soon as they're apart, there's a conflict. i want to say that both conflicts happen bc they don't really understand the group but tbh i have no idea why stede did that

and everything goes to absolute shit

and then everything goes to even more absolute shit. ships on fire.

in 1x05 ofc they go back and have their "you wear fine things well" moment but in 2x07 they're separated and we just have to sit with it :(

bonus you also have frenchie scamming people:

ed not panicking:

and izzy being a little freak:

[bigfatbreak]

Birds of a Feather previous / next

[thelonelynindroid]

I cannot believe I'm posting art on here again bc I am a generally a phantom on this acc but. Scully study hello xfillios

[hazbingirliexoxo]

Reader: *talking about their favorite TV show/podcast*

Vox: *smugly* Well it can’t be that popular if I’ve never heard of it

Reader: *mockingly* It’s not for old people🙄🙄

Vox: ….

[thelone-copper]

Awww he’s so happy :D

Cw: obsessive/possessive behavior

Oh— oh my—

Mmmmmyes Colt and obsessive!Robbie post wooowwwiiieeee🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯

Colt First took Robbie under his wing because he thought he needed a friend, someone to guide him. Pity? Maybe that too, but mostly because he thought it was the right thing to do. They grew closer, and soon, him and Colt became friends! Happy ending, right?

Right?

Well…sooner or later, Robbie seemed to change. And Colt started feeling a constant stare on the back of his head.

@clownsuu AYE🤭🤭🤭AYE BRO🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭I DID IT

[mbat]

and thinking about the difference between bill and fiddleford when it comes to fords hands and fords 'genius'

bill makes fords polydactyly a focal point, something impossible to ignore. he tells ford that he'll fit right in with bills band of "freaks" all because his hands are a little different than other humans. he never lets him forget it, even if he says it as something to be proud of, but he and everyone else knows that ford kinda never stopped holding onto the insecurity that was associated with this trait. bill also never let ford forget his smarts, he played into the what ford always wanted to hear about his smarts, but fords brain was only ever a tool to bill. fords hands were (part of) a reason bill wanted to bring him along in his crew, and fords mind was simply a means to an end

and then we have fiddleford who, upon meeting ford for the first time, immediately saw ford as this genius who cared about what he had to say and they connected over their shared love for all that nerd stuff, and it was something that was important to them both and brought them together, and kept them together

and fiddleford says he didnt even notice, after hours and hours of sitting in a room with ford and them focused on eachother (and math)... he didnt even notice that fords hands were different until afterward, when he was looking at a photo of them both. this thing ford had been forced to worry about his whole life, and it wasnt even a thing to fiddleford.

ford wanted to be known, to be loved, for his brain and what he could do. and, in my opinion, it sometimes feels like he almost wanted to make up for the fact he was different, to prove he wasnt 'less than' because of some difference he was born with, this thing that everyone made such a big deal out of

and between the two biggest people in his life (aside from his brother of course lmao), one focused on and made a big deal out of his difference, and the other didnt even notice it. one saw his genius as a tool, and the other saw it as something amazing and admirable.

hell, if the bit of their conversation in the book of bill when they meet is, well, when they meet and is their first words to eachother... the first name or nickname that bill calls ford is, of course, sixer. and one of the first things fiddleford calls ford... is friend.

and i just feel like it says a lot about those two relationships and him.

[bitchfitch]

idk at some point I think we need to stop lying to city people about what a no light pollution night sky looks like bc some of the saturation boosted long exposures folk are using as proof of what the nebulous they have taken from you are getting silly.

like this is a photo from the McDonald observatory obviously, but this is like. almost what you would actually be seeing under decent but not exceptional circumstances (ie sea level with low moisture/dust in the air, and no time spent intentionally avoiding light before hand)

[stitchwraith-stingers]

unsurpisingly even more textposts for me, 2 people and a cricket to enjoy

[lovesickeros]

☆ decadence divine [ act I ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, neuvillette, furina {☆} notes yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings yandere content, stalking (implied), kidnapping (implied) {☆} word count 2.3k

ARLECCHINO

Arlecchino was wont to leave social gatherings to her subordinates– the private meetings were where she thrived. It was so much easier to lure your prey into a trap when you didn't have prying eyes and ears waiting for the barest hint of blackmail.

She clicked her tongue in distaste, her eyes narrowing beneath the mask of the fox as she set down her cup sharply. It was difficult as it was to draw them from the safety of their bubble– at the slightest hint of danger, her quarry would run. A chase would be fun, but she couldn't risk getting caught here. The political nightmare it would cause..it already gave her a headache. She had to be discreet.

They weren't making it easy, however.

Which is why she never liked crowds. But this chance didn't come by every day. She wasn't going to simply let it pass by because of a little danger. She'd have them eventually, it was just a matter of how. There were already numerous of her own lingering in the crowds, hidden beneath the masks that every patron bore. It was difficult to stand out amongst the flurry of masked patrons constantly shifting around the room, moving from one conversation to another, gliding from one dance partner to another.

Her heeled boots clicked sharply against the tile as she stalked through the crowds, keeping a wide berth yet always lingering nearby– she was sure they could feel the vague sense of being watched, but with the huge crowds..her lips quirked into a grin with the barest flash of teeth. There were a great many ways to break them in– she'd spent a great amount of time and mora to get anything she could for blackmail, if she so wished. She had the backing of the Fatui as well if she played her cards right– it wouldn't be difficult to convince them that they were a valuable target, and none of them would dare to question just what she did with them afterwards.

Perhaps a bit of play, first. Test the waters. She was familiar with playing the polite gentleman, despite her status as a Fatui Harbinger. Stage something for her to intervene, perhaps, to look the hero. The look of shock when she revealed the wolf beneath the wool..she could see it already. That wide, doe-eyed look as they realized the monster they've followed blindly like a lost lamb..she was beginning to see the appeal.

All it took was a few hushed words and subtle signals before the tiles started to fall in place, her hand gliding along their lower back as she leaned over their shoulder with a thin, predatory smile. She'd have to organize for the agent to be released later, her eyes following as the Gardes dragged him out of the room in a flurry of curses, but for now..she tilted her head to peer down at them, polite and almost apologetic.

"You aren't too startled, are you? Now now, there's no need to look so..scared, poor thing. I won't let another lay a hand on you," She cooed in a sickly sweet tone, the husky rasp of her voice whispered in their ear like dripping honey. "You have my word. Now, why don't we get you some fresh air? Come. Allow me to escort you."

Her lips pulled into a jagged grin at the relief in their eyes– the blind lamb following the shepherd as it led them into it's maw. Just a little longer, and she could finally have her own caged bird– a pretty thing to admire, to protect, to possess.

Something no one else would ever touch again. Something hers.

NEUVILLETTE

Neuvillette was not one for parties. The intricacies and delicate handling of public relations he oft left in the capable hands of Furina, rather then himself. It was only at her behest he even attended at all, but he still felt rather..out of place amongst the bodies constantly shifting through the ballroom like a constant rush of water from one end to the other, no rhyme nor reason to the flow. The only thing that kept him afloat among the tides was the mask of the deer obscuring his face– even if it was exceedingly difficult to truly hide himself among the crowds, most passed over him without second thought.

Though he had to be honest with himself, even if he couldn't bring himself to admit it to Furina despite her insistence that his attendance was mandatory. He had his own reasons for coming– selfishness that left a sour taste in his mouth. It was purely by chance he'd seen the briefest glimpse of them prior, and he..was intrigued, that was all.

He refused to let his thoughts linger on the sleepless nights he spent prying every piece of information he could from loose tongues and obscure documents, every moment he managed to squeeze in between trials spent lingering in their most favored locations– cafes, stores, restaurants, the like.

Now a masquerade.

He tried not to let the guilt gnaw at his conscious, but it lingered like an age old scar that still ached.

So he relegated himself to simply residing in the further corner, nursing a goblet of water like a fine wine, trying not to let his eyes stray to the brief glimpses of them through the ever moving bodies filling the center of the room, dancing like puppets in music boxes.

Still, his hand twitched in an instinctual desire– a need to clasp his hand in their own, to touch his lips upon their knuckles, to indulge in a moment of reprieve and unshackle himself from the mantle that bears heavy upon his shoulders. He seeks reverence, worship, but not of himself– but towards the one who had drawn the eye of the dragon amongst the waves of humans he'd seen come and go for a great many years.

No one could compare, he is certain. None have left him as breathless, as hopelessly infatuated, as the one who made him wish only to kneel at their feet in senseless reverence until he could no longer speak. A hopeless man, indeed, if he has never even truly met them.

Instead he's spent his time prying into their life from the shadows. Caution, or simple cowardice?

He dares not ponder.

Yet in his ceaseless pondering he'd blocked out the world without, failing to notice the figure stepping up beside him until their hand brushed against his elbow– just the briefest touch, but it had his pupils narrowing and his entire body tensing like a coiled spring. That touch..bliss. It left him breathless and lightheaded as he tilted his head to regard them, his lips parting in a shaky sigh. They are as beautiful as he remembers– even with their face obscured beneath the mask, he would never forget them.

"Greetings, Monsieur– I hope I didn't frighten you too much." Their laugh made him feel rather faint, just the sound of their voice making his hand tighten around his cane. "..Not at all. I was simply lost in thought." He admitted apologetically, trying to reign in the urge to cup their face between his palms. A dangerous thought. He didn't want to scare them off when they'd provided him a priceless opportunity.

"My apologies, you must have needed something. It was rude of me to have been so absorbed in my thoughts to have ignored you." He continued, gently turning to set his goblet down– offer them his full attention, be a gentleman. The words rang in his skull like a ceaseless alarm, blaring and rattling his thoughts as he gently took their hand in his own. It was a split second decision– an indulgence, but he could simply not help himself. Even with his gloves between them, he felt like he was going to lose his composure just from such a brief touch..

He truly was a hopeless man before an altar, praying for a salvation he intends to bury deep beneath the waves– to keep it hidden in the darkness of the depths that only he can reach. A selfish man, he must be, to even think of it, but it is an itch that he cannot scratch. A need that must be satisfied. He cannot allow any hands but his own to tend to them, to know what it feels to touch them, to hear their voice and see their eyes as he prays– prays like a man starved, devotion born of desperation.

"I hope I did not make you wait too long." He smiles, soft and affectionate, like the bloom of spring beneath the winters chill– yet just as deadly, only masked by the sweet fragrance of flowers.

He had waited too long.

No longer.

FURINA

Furina was right at home amongst the crowds– where the masks obscured the identities of most, it was impossible to not recognize the charming banter of the Hydro Archon beneath the mask of the lamb as she graced the masquerade with her presence, speaking with a silver tongue to any who would listen. A truly enthralled audience fitting for the grandest of performers in Fontaine.

But her eyes lingered not on the people who's praise dripped from their lips like honey– yet so very bitter upon her tongue. Even the mask obscuring her expression did little to hide the longing that had her visibly deflating like a popped balloon. She hated all the eyes on her, really– it was suffocating. She was only putting on a show in the foolish hope that they'd finally pay attention to her. Just her luck, she supposes, that instead she's had to throw herself straight into the role of Archon without a pay off..

They hadn't even spared her a glance! It would be infuriating if not for the fact she couldn't even keep her composure just seeing them across the room. They didn't even have to look at her and she could feel the heat rush to her ears as she forced another smile at the crowd gathered around her. It was unfair how easily they could fluster her without even knowing it– her heart was thumping so hard against her ribcage she felt like it might burst.

Her only solace was the fact none of the patrons seemed to realize she'd clocked out of the conversation, her thoughts and eyes lingering on the distant figure– what a lovestruck fool she makes..it was a chance encounter she'd seen them during one of her outings. That was all it took to enthrall her, evidentially, try as she might to have ignore it for months.

They never left her mind for longer then a day, in the end, and she had to face the fact they had managed to enrapture her so deeply she felt like a newborn lamb learning to walk whenever she so much as thought of them. What an embarrassment! She..she was the Archon, she had a reputation to maintain, she couldn't be seen fawning over a human.

But oh, she still longed for it, beneath the veneer of a God. She'd watched them more times then she'd admit even to herself, wishing to find herself in place of those who'd hands were cradled so casually in their own– to hear their voice, their laughter, as often as she pleased..like a fine delicacy she so badly wished to taste, yet so far from her reach.

Would they think her pathetic for her infatuation? She pursed her lips at the thought, trying to bury the sour mood beneath her faux image of the Archon. Yet it lingered, and with only the quietest of excuses, she slipped into the crowd like a ghost– she needed to leave before she did something..stupid. Neuvillette would surely have a few choice words with her if she did, and she was inclined to avoid such a fate.

She..she just needed a moment to collect herself was all. That was it. She could go back to playing Archon for a little longer, she just needed a moment to herself. At the very least, the balcony had been regarded as off limits so late into the party– which gave her an opportunity to slip out of the public view for the briefest of moments. A welcome reprieve– she was starting to feel suffocated amongst the crowds.

Perhaps on instinct, she reached for the mask, lifting ever so slightly away..only to let out a startled yelp at the touch of a hand on her shoulder, the mask slipping back into place far too easily. It made her lightheaded, even now, but she dared not to dwell on it.

But when she turned sharply on her heel to chew out the person who'd followed her and had the gall to scare her..oh, she was done for, her ears flush with heat. The brief glimpse of their eyes beneath the mask, the curl of their lips as they smiled– her heart stuttered in her chest, and she was certain it had stopped all together when they clasped her hand.

"Y–you.." She wanted to be angry, to brush them off and leave with her rationality in tact, but the warmth of their hands on her skin rendered her speechless. She was no better then a fish on land, struggling to fill her lungs with air as she drew in a shaky breath. "Ahem, you caught me off guard. That's all. Surely you do not make it a habit to sneak up on people?" She huffed in indignation, trying to mask the fluster that threatened to break through her carefully crafted facade.

Ah, what a cruel twist of fate..she'd slipped away to escape their allure, but here they were, dragging her back into their orbit without even knowing how deep her infatuation ran. They were alone, too..it was a chance she wasn't sure she'd ever get again.

Maybe, just this once, she could do something for herself rather then everyone else.

She buried her guilt, the fear– buried it beneath the need to be seen.

"But if you want to make it up to me.."

[heavendraven]

sorry it's been a while, here's some dgs doodles

[rileys-battlecats]

living through major historical events is never going to be easy or fun, but im trying to keep in mind one of my favorite quotes from uncle iroh.

“you must never give into dispair. allow yourself to slip down that road, and you surrender to your lowest instincts. in the darkest times, hope is something you give yourself.”

it’s ok to feel anxious, to feel angry, but please take care of yourself today. avoid doomscrolling, hug a friend, do something that brings you comfort. do what you need to in order to keep your head above water.

then, once you’re steady, support the people around you. be kind. do what you can to help your neighbors and friends, especially those who will be feeling the greatest effects of the outcome of this election. if we want to see change in the world, we need to take those first steps ourselves. we will create hope in these dark times, because we will care for each other and take care of one another. as long as we’re here, as long as we care for each other, as long as we fight for each other, there’s hope.

[quixtrix]

rayman, eden's feel good american dream story; an analysis

guess who's back with taking ubisoft's silly guys and cutting them open. yknow, if you strip rayman of his personality, of all the behind the scenes we get of him, we get a run of the mill news reporter that is an immigrant, who by face alone serves as a shining ray of hope. he's easily something that by all means, can be classified as a diversity hire. immigrant, nonhuman (which in the world of clh can be considered to be equated with poc irl), and notably the only one in his work environment. don't believe me?

we rarely ever see anyone other than rayman on the show in the form of a coworker. the only time we do see other eden affiliated people, they are both white. "but you can't see red's face!!" there is a reason his dialogue makes you think of more right leaning people with their claims of 'wokeness is destroying everything' under something like april from tmnt being black and not ginger. he's a caricature meant to represent a specific group of people under fascism; those who have successfully consumed the fearmongering and have let it turn from fear of those that they are told are beneath them into hatred for them. there is also the fact that on live tv he throws up a middle finger, refers to an implied group of immigrant people as 'filthy interdimensional alien scum,' and seemingly gains no backlash for it. yes, the other reporter does try to give red a chance to go back on his words, but he sticks to it. and despite all of this, we get no indication that neither red nor the niji 6 had to apologise or received punishment for this. in fact, red is possibly given more chances by eden due to him being weirdly in charge of bullfrog's containment in a way? (i'm not entirely sure WHY he was there, but as he is one of eden's tv personalities, he's at a possibly televised trial of a terrorist.) now if you compare this to rayman, who also acted inappropriately on tv by literally saying fuck, you'd come to realise that rayman was treated so much more harshly. he was IMMEDIATELY replaced by a clone of himself, with no warning nor any indication that eden would do such a thing. it's very likely this was one of, if not the first time that rayman has slipped up like this on live tv. maybe it's a repeat offence considering his personality, but then you could argue that red is a repeat offender of the same shit and then you have to wonder why a soldier like red was not easily replaced but someone who is the literal face and voice of eden was with ease. it's because rayman made himself more than jus a story, he humanised himself by showing a peek of his raw feelings. remember that cute little exposition of the rayman kids show about hybrids? where we see all of these hybrids working as society's grunts and the kids are told to be thankful for hybrids? it's very sweet and gives a good message! now the rayman kids show is a product of eden propaganda, but rayman very much has a hand in it, most likely as a writer. he uses his platform to speak on issues that has happened and affected him. this can be seen in his biopic.

jus sit with this image for a moment. you ever think about why rayman is specifically made as an alien? why he's specifically an immigrant? in real life news reports and speeches, there is a difference in implications when people use immigrants and not aliens. you wanna know why?

as someone apart of an immigrant family myself, i live in a community of other immigrants. majority of them are hispanic, and while i myself am not hispanic, i am very aware of how hispanic immigrants were referred to and treated by politicians under trump's presidency. how couldn't i? even as children in middle school and elementary, we had discussions about what trump was saying because it directly targets my friends and their families. they are people targeted by a man who specifically uses derogatory terms to dehumanise them, to make it easier to justify in the average american mind that the government is doing the right thing by keeping out and protecting america from these so-called 'invading animals.' makes what red was saying earlier feel very on the nose, right? adi shankar, the showrunner for captain laserhawk, is also an immigrant man. immigrated from india, which by the way, did you know has a lot of people immigrating for the purpose of having a better life? that's a common sentiment that can be found in every single immigrant family's story. i've asked my filipino mother why she took an opportunity to live and work in america, and she told me it's because she wanted to give her children a better life than what we would have had in the philippines. hell, i bet if you share a similar background to me, you can ask your own parents the same thing and get the exact same answer, regardless if you came from latin america or africa, or asia. it's because of the concept of the american dream. everyone who has ever engaged with any degree of immigrant discussion has heard of the american dream. it's a concept that seems to be consistently proven via word of mouth, with the biggest examples being celebrities. they will always, without fail, eventually speak about the american dream within their backstories. and typically, they will use their platforms to further empower others within their community. it's why people from specific ethnicities tend to group together, why people make art meant as something akin to a homage to their people. it provides hope to the masses, makes you relate to the person on the screen, and believe that this society is truly a gracious one by providing opportunity. because yeah, it may be bad, but it could be worse. i mean we appreciate you! just look!

dont mind the fact that the majority of opportunities allotted to you is grunt work, the work where you at the base of the pyramid, with the harder jobs and the jobs no one wants to do. dont mind the fact you will be actively dehumanised, forced to work for hours in conditions we wouldn't put anyone else in, but hey. we appreciate you. we thank you. and yknow, you can become more than what you are. yknow, we let someone just like you be more than what you are! nevermind the fact that if they slip up, they'll be met with MUCH harsher criticism in comparison to someone who isn't you! aren't we so gracious? i probably sound a bit like matpat's insane out of context real world examples, but this show is filled with political imagery, so let me be. anyways, let's get back to eden and rayman. rayman, despite being specifically from dimension x as an alien, keeps hybrids in mind when he's doing his work.

people of colour tend to share solidarity with one another due to the fact that surface wise, we share similar struggles. to grossly oversimplify things, we all face discrimination through our appearances and are oppressed by the rules of a society created by our white oppressors. again, hybrids and dimension x immigrants can be equated to irl poc, and despite being different from each other, there is still community. rayman keeps them in mind, hoping to make things better for the overall nonhuman and nonnative (native as in naturally born) population of eden. but, rayman is not what he believes he is. because despite everything he has worked for, despite what he has tried to do, he is still a facilitator of the fascist regime that has an active hand in the perpetual oppression of his own people. one of the core concepts within fascism is us versus them. it's an easy way to instill fear (which is very much needed in fascism to make it easier to lie to the masses) and it's used in multiple layers, beginning with a large group (ex. us versus ussr, capitalism vs communism), then progressively sizing down (ex. saying all eastern europeans are communist, then going smaller and say all those affiliated with eastern europeans are communist) with the goal being to put people against each other and break up community since if you put your minds together, you'll start to realise that the fascist system is bullshit. what i've personally come to find is that in order to hide the fact that there is fascism lurking is that someone that can be considered a 'them,' an other, will be given a seat at the table. it's so they can be used as an excuse, a human shield, when they inevitably slip up and can be paraded to the masses as proof that the other is not as smart or powerful as 'us.' the 'other' within the 'us' is used as something to look down at, while also justifying to oneself that they have a place, that they are not being oppressed. they have an opportunity as much as anyone else! so long as they don't mess up. rayman messes up, and is shunned from 'us.' hes a mistake, impure, clearly not like 'us,' 'us' who had been so gracious to give this 'other' a place. he's cut out and discarded because he has well worn his purpose, and clearly, they can just get another little puppet. they'll dress him up and make him worthy of being one of 'us,' and make sure that this one won't fall to the fault of his little ideas. which is exactly what leads to rayman's transformation of ramon. being forcibly forced out and discarded by eden because he showed his true ideas makes him realise that there was no real place for him within the system. because what good is his work if it leads to what he tried not to create? it's worthless, just as the system it attempts to thrive in is.

tl;dr, rayman is a representation of the american dream, specifically celebrities. he tries to do what he can with his platform, but the fact is that within a fascist system, his impact is not entirely felt in the way he wants it to. that is why he becomes ramon.

anyways if you reached the end of THIS LONG ASS PIECE GOOD LORD thank you!! always open to discuss this and take criticism, my ask box is open in the lil 'who's asking' :^]

[alchemicaladarna]

Hi sorry, I'm ill about the soul vulture arc again. Because q!Bad made choices in his grief, in his rage, thinking he will never feel an ounce of happiness again because he thought his kids were dead. Q!Bad's Acceptance was never of accepting that grief and learning to live after it, but rather, it was the silent admission that his children were dead and there was nothing he could do. No rage, no monster, no demon, no power in heaven or hell could bring them back. It was Acceptance. But the cruel twist of fate was the fact that he was wrong. Pomme, Dapper, and the other eggs were alive, actually. By the time he found out, however, it was already too late. He was long gone, and every choice has a consequence, and he suffered the consequences of his choices like hell.

Q!Bad was dead long before he fell in the lavender field one hundred feet away from the house his children built. One hundred steps away from his sleeping children he fought so hard to keep safe, under all costs. He died the night they were taken away, because they were his soul, his happiness. Everything that mattered in the millenia he's existed, nothing could compare to his children. He died that night; and all those months where it seemed like he was alive, where he was "healing" was the grim reaper bargaining with himself to hold on a little longer for his children.

Q!Bad loved Dapper and Pomme, and Richas, and all the eggs- he loved them so much it hurt. He loved them so much that love became his hell- his purgatory. Q!Bad loved them until the moment he finally stepped in his grave and couldn't bargain any more.

He deteriorated for months. He was literally melting from the inside. The vultures pecked at his body and fractured his soul. The radiation melted the skin off his limbs, and the brain inside his skull. It hurt like no other death, but if it meant seeing his kids for one more day, then that hell was more than worth it. And the physical pain wasn't the worst of it- no, eventually, he forgot his children's names, their faces, he forgot his own name, and he forgot himself. Memories slipping away like lost fragments of time. Until his death, when he was barely himself anymore.

People noticed, but never really did anything to stop it did they? I mean, who are we kidding, even if anyone spoke up, nothing they could have done would have prevented the inevitable. Dapper knew the fate his father subjected himself to. She knew what scars from soul vultures looked like, and she tried to find a cure. He tried, when he still had his lab, but there was never enough time. No science or magic could ever remedy what was already destined to happen.

And Pomme, sweet Pomme, stayed with her father until the end. She gave him health potions- "medicine"- to help his ailments. And she had so much hope she lived in denial- she thought he was getting better. But the truth is that the memory lapses and the illness never ceased because no medicine could ever resurrect a fractured soul clinging on to his deceased body.

Then Q!Bad finally relinquished himself to the sweet mercy of death. And when he arrived, he found the promise of paradise- the promise of Home, where he would never have had to suffer a painful hell again. But he chose to come back to live and to suffer once more because this time, his children were waiting on the other side. For the first time, the scales were balanced, and his happiness was halved because he had a home that was worth living in, and a life that was worth living. For the first time in the millennia q!bad had been alone, he had love. And that was enough.

The story has always been about love and loss, and the beauty of love and life, despite that loss. That's why the soul vultures arc is my favorite, and also why I nearly cried halfway through writing this. Because love thrives in spite of the loss, and the grief, and the personal hell. When death comes, and it always does, and time has eroded every portrait, or photograph, or memory- all that is left is love. And that love is hope, as well as grief. It is joy and sadness. It is heaven and hell. It is simply love.

[sparring-spirals]

Compromise. Im not going to actually WRITE meta but i AM going to lay out a list of things I'm thinking about broadly and thematically and would probably write meta about if i were properly caught up and informed, but is instead influenced much more by early campaign F.C.G:

**edit: no this is kind of meta again. sorry.

- F.C.G grappling with the questions of: being made. purpose. whether it matters if you find your own purpose if you were made with one in mind and you "choose" something else. Can you actually? Does it matter? Is your choice a choice at all?

- Wanting so badly to heal people and help people and the unique fear of waking up and seeing damage done by your own hands. To the same people you wanted so badly to help. You extend healing and you offer comfort or kind words but all the while, in your core is a tightness. In your core is a danger. How much good do you need to do to get the blood off your chassis? Can you, at all?

- Metal body. Metal hands. A little wheel. You were a turtle once and it felt so wondrous to breathe. You try out tongues or little wooden legs or whatnot but it always comes back to an inorganic metal body and empty insides no matter if youre filling them with liquids or secret goods to smuggle or pastries (faux warmth). Maybe everything like wooden legs dangling off a metal body. All for show.

- A coin in hand. Looking for a higher power. Thinking about choice. Deferring choices.

- You love your friends, so much. You love people being kind to each other. You love your boyfriend and their wonderful way of thinking. You love being alive. Even when you doubted you were at all. You love, truly and deeply.

- Ashton raging at F.C.G for being a martyr. For aching for a good enough reason to get himself hurt or killed or blown up. Ashton looking at F.C.G knowing they're all messed up inside and trying so hard to stop them from letting it destroy them.

- Ashton always worried about how they're always trying to find a big enough cause, a good enough reason.

And so with those things, I remembered about F.C.G:

- F.C.G looking at their friends all down. Ashton laid out unmoving.

- F.C.G with something awful in their core. Ready to spill out. The same something awful they were always worried about. They were always aware of.

- F.C.G always looking for that reason. For that bigger and better cause.

- F.C.G always feeling like they didn't understand purpose, like it was so. unattainable- finally, briefly, startlingly- sure. Finally free of doubt. Their friends down and something awful and destructive in their core and one last thing they can do to maybe make things worth it, and the ability to choose it. They were made for something. They chose what to do with it.

- F.C.G finding that reason. F.C.G making that call. F.C.G thinking it was worth it.

- I think because of him, they succeeded. They won. That is certain.

- I think. "Worth it". Is always a subjective thing.

- I think. A self sacrifice is never just one person giving everything up. A self sacrifice, unfortunately- is one person making a choice.

And everyone else caught, in the blast radius.

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

i realized they had the same birthday (dec 21st) so i was like "yoooo i should draw them together"

silly bonus:

[svtskneecaps]

also in terms of the bolas playlist it's fascinating to me that the songs added by each person have a slight tendency to represent a consistent aspect of bolas

like

the songs added by slime are their chaos

the songs added by philza are their rebellion

the songs added by cellbit are their rage

the songs added by baghera are their anguish

it's so fucking FASCINATING TO ME but i don't know enough music theory to elaborate lmfao this is Vibes Only

(mouse's songs i can't boil down to an easy noun which is why they aren't mentioned lmao anyway they go hard asf)

(also i went on the longest fucking unhinged elaboration in the tags lmfao i almost didn't have enough tags left to tag "long tags" at the end

(i could have even gone on longer in terms of where their characters were at entering purgatory [philza: cage for a cage; cellbit: fed worker murders; baghera: her past as a federation experiment; slime: turning into a code because of the code pretending to be his daughter] but i ran out of space and also time it's 4AM AAAAA)