#the comparisons are generally fascinating

[lets-try-some-writing]

I just read this ask about skin care and i had a bit of a similar ask

What would bot think about eyes colors ? They only know yellow, red and blue ones, so when they see brown, black, green, heterochromia or grey ones (i do have grey eyes, it is a sign of a lack of melanin in your body (im the defenition of being white asf i can't go outside without sunscreen)), how would they react to that?

They would find it facinating.

Cybertronians come into being with many various optical lens colors. The coloration has very little to do with function or frame type when a bot is born naturally. Some say it connects to the color of the spark. Others swear up and down that optic color ties each mech to a Prime. The various religious cults across Cybertron used to herald specific colors as being more pure than the others. Science, however, dictates that optical lens coloration is completely randomized for mecha born of the Well of Allsparks. There is no divine reasoning behind it. The cold forged are a different story, that with most low caste bots being given red optical lenses in order to help them work better in low light areas. The Prime is also another similar case since every single Prime to have carried the Matrix has been recorded having blue optics. Most high caste bots chalked the low caste and the Prime's optical lens colorations always coming out the same as being Primus's divine ordainment of functionalism.

Both Optimus and Megatron shut such views down after they came into power in their respective factions.

With all that stated, I believe the bots would think eye colors are interesting, and maybe even a little worrying considering their own history. Seeing as humans can't pop out of the ground randomly, the bots look at their eye colors as a denotation of birth function, at least for the most part. Those with blue, grey, or green eyes tend to come from the colder regions of Earth, generally being of paler skin. As such, the bots tend to look at them as the flight frames of Earth due to the relative rarity of the colors and their nature as recessive genes. Flight frames on Cybertron were not particularly common after all. Brown eyed humans are seen as the grounders of Earth, being most common but often quite resourceful and hardy. The bots do recognize that in light of modernization, it is now difficult to decipher the 'frame type' of most humans, but they still take note on instinct.

The eyes of humans are fascinating, especially those with unusual colors. The ones with odd eyes are the triple changers, beastformers, and predacons of humanity. Rare in the extreme, but gifted in something unique. Humanity is an interesting race, and while the bots are well aware that humans don't technically have frame types like they do, the comparisons come anyway.

[lyinginbedmon]

These two gangs are clearly set together to be contrasts, with one side having on the surface a chaotic, even perverse, aesthetic whilst the other gives the pretense of being more dignified and civil. One populated exclusively by men, the other (at best guess) dominantly by women.

But what's fascinating is going a step deeper.

Let's start with the left gang, which is led by chem-baron Chross. Their aesthetic is meant to evoke bouncers, barstaff, and general wait-staff at classy establishments. With their strong metal chins, pince nez glasses, and canes they're also clearly trying to give an air of being likewise dignified, perhaps even noble, themselves.

But this clashes with a couple small details about their appearance. Firstly, they're almost entirely uniform, with only minor details like neckerchief or moustache style actually differentiating them. This may in fact be a contributing factor to why they are quite literally numbered with tattoos on their foreheads. Lastly, as we learn when they engage Jinx later in the episode, those metal chins aren't just chins, they actually seem to replace their mouths as well. Meaning that as part of their uniform membership in Chross' gang, these guys have sacrificed their self-expression, their identity, and even their voice.

They are the model of self-repression for the sake of inclusion in an in-crowd. Chross himself, quite pointedly, almost lacks a chin entirely. He gets to speak, you get to listen.

Then there's the right gang, led by chem-baroness Margot.

Obviously, these figures (I'm avoiding saying women here given their aesthetic basis and just how little we get to see of them by comparison) are dressed up in leather-play kink fashion.

Their head coverings might be dominatrix articles or just as easily submissive (I am not remotely versed enough to know which for certain). Margot's gang canonically operates brothels and pleasure bars, so it's conceivable that for them this is quite literally a uniform. One can almost imagine this confrontation being sparked between establishments directly opposite one another on the same street.

Margot's gang is expressive, opinionated, diverse, and colourful. Held together by mutual interests and circumstance more than a collective group identity as one might suggest of Chross' gang.

What's interesting however is that despite the identity-repression involved in submissive kink play, Margot's gang actually has a wealth of visual diversity. The majority of the uniforms are the same, but there's a diversity in bright hair colours, the styling of it, their makeup, small details on their uniform (studs vs spikes, etc), possibly skin tone (it's a little hard to tell given the lighting), and especially body type amongst their ranks. The lead member blowing a kiss is heavy-set whereas the disgusted peer to her left is lithe.

This contrasts strongly with the uniformity of Chross' gang, who are practically carbon cut-outs. Despite being likewise in uniform, Margot's gang has worked in self-expression wherever possible and notably retain their voices, as represented by their mouths being wholly unobscured.

There's likely also something to be said about LGBT+ representation here. It's a standing grievance raised about Pride about kink, often in leather or latex (if you're feeling particularly dedicated on a summer afternoon), being present in public. Chross even explicitly describes Margot's affairs as being a "boulevard of filth". Margot is open and affectionate, while Chross plays the businessman only concerned for his establishments and ventures.

So it's easy to imagine that Chross' gang picked this particular fight over prudish ideals and maintaining a civilised upper-class facade, whilst Margot's gang rose to the challenge.

Margot even explicitly states that Chross' gang started the turf war by attacking one of her establishments.

Can we talk about these distinct gang aesthetics though?

[superbeans89]

The Simpsons predicted Trump/Biden 2024

[mobblespsycho100]

kabru as a pwnpd headcanon is genuinely so iconic that man rlly is odysseus' hubristic tendencies made manifest tbh . . .

[aroaceleovaldez]

Dude I don’t know where you’re getting this information that 13-14 guys can’t be tall at all. Literally every guy in my freshman high school grade (13-15 year olds) were all 5’6-6’0 at the beginning of the school year and they were all actively growing taller as the year went by. Letting people think Nico is average height or tall is not hurting nobody and you are still entitled to your opinion that Nico can be short. I believe all of Nico’s of various heights can coexist peacefully.

I did say "average" height and was only referring to the fact that Nico's canon height is never explicitly stated. Anyways allow me to rephrase:

my grievances only lie with the wiki for being baselessly wrong. tall nico headcanoners i have no beef with you understand i am simply being silly goofy on my blog mwah mwah

[bybdolan]

ttpd is sooo fascinating on an artistic level because on the one hand we have this somewhat stagnant production style that does not really elevate the songs or themes and rehashes the soundscapes of past album releases, and on the other hand the lyricism in part feels derivative of artists who might not exist without Taylor paving their way through her confessional songwriting. there is a sense of Being Stuck on this record that would lend itself well to thorough analysis, but instead every other negative ttpd review feels like a takedown of Taylor Swift The Person.

[pirateswhore]

I don't think i can properly explain this but I feel a clear distinction between how older fans interpret and headcanon captain swan and how younger/gen z fans do it and I can usually tell roughly how old someone is from their views of the ship dynamic

[cabeswaterdrowned]

remembering on my circa 2017 booklr I used to tell people to read Gemma Doyle by describing it as trc but with an all girls boarding school / all girl group in a historical setting… I was trying to do the lord’s work she deserved tumblr fame

[amelikos]

Spinel's kind of fascination with Friede..

I wonder if he is done playing with him for now (he said Friede was still worth playing with, which sure was a line of dialogue to have him say), or if he was "happy" when Friede got out of his trap in HZ044 and surpassed him in that one moment because it meant they were equals.

[seefasters]

its wild that i apparently have 44 jonmartin fics bookmarked because i cannot recall a single one

[onlythebravest]

it's fascinating how romanticized the image of michael schumacher is, at least when you're new to f1 and don't really know anything other than that he's one of the (if not the) greatest of all times, a record holder and just a legend. but the way ppl talk about him nowadays it's as if they're hiding awat his, let's say it more dirty side. as a driver and teammate that is, not as a person. how ruthless he was, the mindgames he played, how he pushed the limits and stepped over them. drove on the edge like that. short with interviewers/media at times. maybe not always, but it happened. he made f1 change the rulebook. does this remind you of another f1 driver about him as a driver, i only ever heard about his records and all the things he accomplished during his career. which i guess is the only thing that is remembered. and that the more time passes, the controversies are forgotten. to everyone except the ones who were there when it happened or the ones who sit down and actually read about someone

[anthurak]

As someone who was very curious as to how Mammon was going to be presented in Helluva Boss, you can probably imagine I was looking through the new episode very closely.

And while I may have been off the mark with my theory that Mammon would follow the trend of Asmodeus and Beelzebub and NOT actually be antagonistic, I nonetheless think it is VERY interesting how Vivzie and the team handled and presented him.

Specifically, in just how PETTY Mammon is shown to be in this episode.

Like really think about what you might generally expect from a character like Mammon just from a basic background description: He is one of the seven rulers of Hell, lord of the seven rings and embodiment of GREED. Likely a fallen angel who helped to create hell as it exists today, is matched in power only by his five fellow Sins, and is functionally only truly outranked by Lucifer himself.

And yet, Mammon’s characterization in this episode presents him as this petty, selfish, manipulative asshole interested in little more than money and attention. He acts more like a shitty, full-of-himself asshole celebrity than a demon lord. Just look at how he manipulates Fizzerolli, not through lording power and authority over him but through emotional coercion like an abusive parent, ex-, or boss, which is precisely WHAT he is presented as. fi

What makes this even more interesting is that despite Mammon being characterized as Fizz’s petty, manipulative boss, we nonetheless see him display all the POWER and experience we’d expect from one of the seven rulers of Hell. Asmodeus mentions earlier in the episode that he’s known Mammon ‘since the START of Hell’, confirming they were both involved in its creation, and when the two square off at the end, it’s clear that Mammon is very much Ozzie’s EQUAL in power, and that everyone else present is pretty much an insect in comparison.

This is what I think makes the inclusion of that one creepy, obsessive fan of Fizzerolli’s in this episode so significant; he serves as a point of comparison to Mammon.

For all the power and authority that he might wield, Mammon is characterized as being no different/better than a creepy, manipulative, entitled and obsessive stalker.

I think this might be the true common ‘thru-line’ connecting all of the seven sins through Helluva Boss and possibly even Hazbin Hotel: That despite essentially being ‘God-Emperors’ of Hell and outclassed in power likely only by the most powerful angels of Heaven itself, the seven sins are characterized in a very grounded, down-to-earth and for lack of a better term, ‘human’ way.

All the times we’ve seen them, Ozzie, Bee and Mam haven’t presented themselves as these all-powerful beings lording themselves over their subjects like we might expect or even what we’ve seen of the Goetic nobility. They don’t present themselves as ‘royalty’ but rather more like celebrity performers, which is certainly in keeping with Vivzie’s comments about how Hell is meant to represent a circus.

It really gives this fascinating dichotomy to the Sins as characters, where they’re presented as these big wacky celebrities with big, over-the-top personas which in turn hide very grounded, down-to-earth people underneath. While at the same time still being these monstrously powerful and ancient beings whose dominion over Hell is entirely uncontested.

It also gives them a nice contrast with the Goetic Nobility and the Sinner Overlords. Like those two groups actually do act and present themselves like demonic ‘royalty’ who lord themselves over those considered ‘beneath’ them, while in reality they’re at best the ‘middle-managers’, and instead it’s these wacky characters who are the TRUE masters of Hell.

It may even continue into what we might see in Hazbin Hotel, what with Charlie being this bubbly, happy-go-lucky Disney-esque princess who also may very well have power outclassing literally EVERYONE else in the show apart from her parents.

Overall, I loved this episode and I think we may now have a good idea what we might expect from the other Sins, and possibly even Lucifer himself in Hazbin Hotel.

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCXDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (Pt. 5)

—

Tw: torture scene (GiW agent receiving), general angst, canon-typical violence (DC), nobody is having a good time

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Masterlist/subscription post)

—

It was pretty easy for Danny to forget that Dr. Crane was a rogue at times.

Most of the time he wasn’t comically evil, like what he’d expect of a Gotham rogue. He was helping Danny, even if only because he didn’t want to be taken in by the GiW as well. He was even downright nice most of the time, or at least neutral.

Sure, he had a strange obsession with fear and psychology, but that wasn’t really out of the ordinary for Danny. It didn’t feel like living with a rogue, just like…staying with a distant relative, or something.

He seemed like just an ordinary person.

Today, though, Danny was brought back to reality.

The GiW agent they’d tracked down together writhed on the ground, screaming in pain and terror. Scarecrow was sat a few feet away, setting up a syringe of the antidote he’d made.

After a few more moments, he injected the man with the antidote, watching him like a hawk the entire time.

Suddenly, the man surged forward, lunging at Scarecrow with a feral scream.

Unluckily for him, though, he was still weak from the fear toxin in his system, and from the beatings he’d received prior. Scarecrow easily wrestled him to the ground, settling himself on the broad part of the agent’s back with a vice grip on one of his arms.

“Let’s try again,” he said sharply, all of the warmth Danny had grown used to gone from his voice. “Where is the GiW base of operations?”

The agent took several shuddering breaths before spitting at Scarecrow, defiance and hatred written all over his face.

For just a moment, the room was utterly silent.

“Fine, have it your way.”

Scarecrow began to twist the man’s arm further. It wasn’t long before the agent began to squirm, then writhe, beneath him. Danny’s stomach churned.

“You know,” Scarecrow began, almost conversationally, “there are plenty of jobs that one can get without the use of their legs, especially with the level of education you have. Anything that doesn’t involve hard labor, really.”

The man’s face was beginning to turn red in his struggle not to scream. He took in gasping breaths, the way that his mouth moved almost reminding Danny of a goldfish.

(He felt awful for the comparison, but it was true.)

“However,” Scarecrow continued, “I find you’d be rather hard-pressed to find a job without the use of your arms. Especially in a place like Gotham, where you can always be replaced by someone eager to do your job for even less money. Of course, you could most likely coast off of savings and severance pay for a while, but…”

He leaned closer to the man’s head, his voice lowering.

“Would you be able to live like that? To live with yourself, if you no longer have a purpose?”

He allowed the agent a few seconds of rest before increasing the pressure on his arm. The agent gasped, letting out a strangled hiss. His arm bones were making fascinating noises in response to the strain. Danny felt sick.

“You seem like a rather driven young man. I’m sure your family would hate to see you unmotivated, directionless. Would they resent you, do you think?”

“Fuck you, you—”

The man was cut off by his own scream as Scarecrow finally allowed his arm to break, audibly splintering into thousands of useless shards of bone.

He had the exact pressure memorized. Clearly, he had done this before.

This was wrong. This was wrong.

Shouldn’t Danny step in, do something?

“That won’t heal cleanly. Even with the best medical care in the world, you’ll end up with permanent damage.”

The man below him wheezed and sobbed, choking on air as Scarecrow let go of his arm carelessly, letting it flop back onto the ground.

“Just the sort of thing something like you deserves,” Scarecrow hissed, his voice cold.

“You tortured a child, and you enjoyed it. You laughed with your friends about it. In your notes, one of your friends complained about the screaming,” Scarecrow brought his leg around, grinding his boot into the man’s broken arm. He howled in agony, writhing uncontrollably.

“Was it inconvenient to him, do you think? Too loud? If you were joking about it, clearly you thought so, too. I could fix that as well.”

He drew out another needle, this one once again filled with fear toxin.

“Scarecrow, wait,” Danny choked out.

Scarecrow turned to look at him.

Even his posture was different than usual. He looked… stiff, more like an animal than a man. When he tilted his head at Danny in a silent question, it looked like something in his neck had snapped, his head lolling to the side.

Danny wondered if he was consciously moving like that, or if it was habit at this point.

“You—we don’t have to do this. We can get information some other way, right? You don’t have to…”

Danny looked down at the GiW agent below Scarecrow. He didn’t even have it in him to glare up at Danny like he had before. Instead he laid limply on the ground, tremors rolling through his body uncontrollably.

“We’ve exhausted every other option and you know it,” Scarecrow said, his voice low, “this is the only way we can move forward.”

“Still, I—I don’t,” Danny swallowed, his throat tight, “this isn’t—this isn’t right. Isn’t there some other way to do this? Like—a truth serum, or something?”

“Truth serums are notoriously unreliable. They’re almost as bad as lie detectors. We’re much more likely to get a reliable result from this.”

Danny just stared at the GiW agent and his splintered, ruined arm. He began to weakly wriggle in Scarecrow’s grasp, which was graciously ignored.

He vaguely remembered himself doing the same thing when he was on the operating table; even if he knew there was no chance of escape, he still thrashed and screamed, desperate to get away. The jagged I-shaped incision on his torso felt uncomfortably warm.

What was there left to say?

“The Bat does the same thing at times, you know,” Scarecrow said, “him and the rest of his brood. By using my toxin, I’m actually lessening the amount of permanent damage that I’m doing. Physically.”

“Still, that doesn’t make it right,” Danny said desperately. “Even if—even if everyone in the world did this, it wouldn’t make it right.”

Scarecrow hummed.

They were both silent for a moment.

His next words were gentle, absurdly so when compared to the scene in front of him.

“I would love an alternative. But…”

He shrugged, hand coming to rest on the break in the GiW agent’s arm. Even without applying any pressure, the man stopped squirming immediately.

“There aren’t any other options,” Danny repeated, his voice flat and his body numb.

“Yes,” Scarecrow said. “I’m sorry.”

There was a pause. No one moved a muscle. Eventually Scarecrow spoke again, his voice strangely empty.

“You can stand outside and keep watch, if you’d like. At such a short distance their radars won’t pick us up.”

Danny said nothing, leaving the room silently.

He sat outside for quite a while.

He was grateful that Scarecrow had, with his help, dragged the agent to one of his previous hideouts. It was soundproofed, after all.

He was glad that he didn’t have to hear the rest of what Scarecrow did to the man.

After what felt like an eternity, Dr. Crane left the building, joining him outside. He guided Danny back to his beat up old truck and they drove home in silence.

“Did you at least…do you know where they are, now?” Danny asked as they entered the apartment, his voice small.

“They didn’t share the details of all of their locations with any one person. I know where one of their locations are, but not their main base of operations.”

Danny felt disgusted. With himself, with Dr. Crane, with the GiW.

He was disgusted by the agent, too. Did he just hate the restless dead so much that he would prefer to be tortured than to give them the upper hand? Did he really think he was in the right?

Was there a chance that he was?

Danny felt very, very small, and very stupid. Stupid and weak and cowardly.

“Danny,” Dr. Crane spoke, his voice soft.

“I’m truly sorry that this is happening to you. I really, truly wish that you didn’t have to endure my company. I…”

He fell quiet. Danny wondered if he was just saying this to pacify him, or if he truly meant it. He wondered if it really mattered in the end.

After a few moments of silence, Dr. Crane sighed, looking truly pained.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Danny was quiet.

“I’m going to bed early,” he finally said, turning away and leaving without a second glance.

—

[iguanodont]

Lineup of metallic dragons, as they appear in my personal setting. From left to right:

Gold: Among the largest and most politically ambitious of dragons. They rarely use their immense might to seek dominion over humanoid races, instead investing their First hoard (typically sea-jewels and their own shed scales) in the success of kings and cities that answer only to them, thus expanding their own wealth through mercantile success. Their wisdom spans generations, making them valuable advisors and patient strategists.

Copper: A mid-sized dragon, and the most playful. Their fascination with humanoids lies almost exclusively in how they entertain themselves. These glittering tricksters make their lairs in the hearts of theaters, theme parks, circuses, and other locales of escapism, stretching and bending the laws of reality to the awe and delight of their audience.

Silver: The smallest and most ephemeral of dragons. Though solitary among their own as all dragons, they are fascinated by the social lives of humanoids. They may spend a majority of their lives playing pretend as ordinary folk, using their silver tongues and seemingly inexhaustible work ethic to worm their way to the top of a corporate ladder or the heart of a secret society, only to leave it headless when the game is won and they seek a fresh start elsewhere.

Bronze: Smallest after silver, and cheeriest of dragons, perhaps because they remain the closest of their kin to Mother Sea, from whence the first dragons are said to have crawled. Likewise their motivations seem the most simple: to create paradise at these sacred shores. They are lorded as guardians of beaches and shallow seas, yet their vision of perfection may prove so infectious that those who visit forget the world beyond the gentle surf and glittering sand, and those who are wrenched from it find Elsewhere hollow by comparison.

Brass: The tallest, and loneliest of dragons. These flightless behemoths roam the desert in their youth, taking in everything from the goings of the skittering beetle to the rise and fall of cities. But over centuries they grow so tall they can no longer interact intimately with the many subjects of their interest. Instead they totter aimlessly from place to place, magically broadcasting their vast repository of histories, biographies, and opinions on the weather to anyone who might be there to listen.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Do not give them Toys

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

When the human government wished to initiate trade with the Filthrax Conglomerate the Filthrax were understandably cautious. They had always been sensitive when it came to sharing technology with other species. To that end they had an extensive amount of restrictions on what could and couldn’t be traded; excluding much of their more advanced technology from ever reaching the market.

The humans in comparison were technologically inferior to the Filthrax in nearly every aspect so they pictured the humans to heavily lobby for advanced technology to be made available. So it was with some surprise that when negotiations began the humans did not lobby for advanced technology, they instead seemed deeply invested in obtaining the Filthrax toys.

This was not something the negotiators had expected. Research into human culture had showed a deep rooted sense of aggression, towards outsiders and themselves when promoted, which made them believe that the first opening bid would be towards military grade technology.

Sensing the discord, the human diplomats explained that while they would like more advanced technology to be an option, they understood the hesitance and reluctance to trade such dangerous items. They said they would be fine earning the Filthrax’s trust over an extended period of time through trade. It seemed that several human enterprises had their eyes on Filthrax toys and they seemed like a safe enough items to begin trade. The Filthrax agreed and so trade lines were opened between the great powers.

What the aliens saw as a harmless deal was in fact the first foot in the door that could never be closed.

Several million orders for toys were placed almost overnight and the economic boon was felt overnight throughout the Filthrax Conglomerate. None of them understood the fascination humans had with their trinkets but if they were willing to pay then they would be more than happy to sell. It wasn’t until the Nexus Wars began that the Filthrax would come to understand their folly.

The “Nexus” was a series of star systems that held the majority of trade lanes between the core worlds and the far flung resource rich outer zones. Trade through these lanes was deemed to be the most stable for long distance transportation so whoever controlled these regions would make considerable wealth from their stewardship.

Current stewardship fell to the Omicron Empire who had held the systems for the last several hundred years and as such used the profits it generated to fund their empires expansion. The humans wished to control these routes to fund their own imperial ambitions but had never leveled the playing field with the Omicron military to make such a transgression possible.

Then, without warning, the human military launched a series of strikes against Omicron bases and fleets in the Nexus systems triggering the “Nexus War”. The Omicrons raised their fleets and armies and dispatched them to the systems with the full intention of repelling the humans and then carrying on their counter offensive into human space. What they met however was a suddenly technologically advanced human military spouting drastic advances in military equipment not seen.

Human soldiers now carried portable shielding units that blocked everything less than a direct hit from a hover tank, while their ships launched fusion bombs carrying a heavy enough payload to shatter Timbar class battleships in half.

With this new technology, the human military had taken control of half of the Nexus systems within five months of the wars start. Other powers dotting the stars took notice of the sudden prowess of the human military, as well as the calculations predicting that within another five months the Omicron Empire would be driven from the Nexus systems. Some cheered at seeing their old rivals in the Omicron’s brought low, others sent delegations to the human government pledging alliances and treaties, many more came to join the war effort now sensing blood amongst the stars; but to the Filthrax, they quickly came to realize the part they had played in this war.

While Filthrax toys were rather unremarkable, they were unique in the way that their power sources could last an entire lifetime. Through controlled energy distribution, the Filthrax had created a rudimentary power source that, while considered basic in their society, was light years ahead of any neighboring species.

The humans were well aware of this feature.

They knew before negotiations even began that the Filthrax would never part with their advanced weaponry or technology, but they would be willing to part with something they considered nothing more than a toy. Toys that were then torn apart to get to the power source, reverse engineered, and then used to power weapons and machines of human design.

Filthrax toys were now forming the basis for a new galactic power, and they had been fooled into giving them away for nothing more than currency.

The sudden realization sent shockwaves through the upper echelons of the Filthrax. If they admitted this they would be not only be publically humiliated on a galactic scale; but also be portrayed as cobelligerents in the war. Not only that, it would invalidate their own standing treaties with other species which specifically stated they would not trade anything that could be repurposed for war. They could see trade agreements torn asunder for a dozen species with even embargos placed upon their territories. Worse yet was if they did cease trading with the humans the human government could release the information and still black list them to the wider galaxy.

So they sat and watched the war from the sidelines, contemplating that their bobbles may have very well just doomed the universe.