#grief is so crazy. anyway.

[tangledinink]

"it just seems inhumane to lose this much."

[lupins-hehim-pussy]

I wanna know ur Fontaine msq criticisms 👁️👁️👂I’m all ears

I'm not sure if you wanted me to talk about this secretly or publicly but! Here I go!

The TLDR: Fontaine MSQ aestheticised prison, poverty, child abuse, the justice system/court and didn't properly address any of it.

More:

Focalors/Furina has way too much of a sympathetic angle for a dictator who's lets people drown with her inaction.

Neuvillette feels Bad for sentencing some people to death/prison, but that's it. He's one of the most powerful people in Fontaine. If he felt like there are systemic injustices, I.E sending an abused Child to prison, he should be the first person to DO something about it, not just cry and be sad so the audience can be like aw, that's complex character writing isn't it? No it's not! And guilt doesn't absolve you!!!!!!! (These are stuff we deal with in OTCOJ read my fic now /j)

Meropide has children in it, both Sentenced there (Wriothesley) and BORN THERE (Lanoire), and this is just a quirk of the place. Not only that, Meropide accepts prisoners of all genders and crimes. There are abusers and abuse victims in one place. Do you know how bad that is? How much potential for crimes to happen in a place like that— oh wait, Meropide isn't under Fontaine's jurisdiction. If you are assaulted as an inmate it literally means nothing to the court.

Wriothesley had no qualifications when he took over. Depending on how long he lived on the streets, how old he was when he killed his parents, how old he was when he was first taken in by the orphanage, etc, the man might never have more than 4–5 years of formal education. Sigewinne probably had to teach him how to write reports. And do Meropide's spreadsheets. Edit because I forgot to elaborate on this one: This isn't a point brought up anywhere, which is bad, because when poverty and incarceration robs you of a proper education (and the rights to vote in many places too, too, by the way), it reduces your prospects for jobs, reduces many people's ability to get a home etc etc. Wriothesley was just, narratively, Given his position.

Meropide is an industrialized prison, and they portray this as a good thing. Prisoners are paid in coupons for their labour, and this is also portrayed as a good thing.

The One-Meal-A-Day reform was something Paimon gushed about being so great of a perk, that people might want to go to jail for food (could be interesting and reflective of systemic poverty if MHY had brains, but they don't, so I was just Pissed because essentially all Paimon wanted to say was "Prison isn't so bad, but still don't go to prison guys! Prison labour is really hard!"). By the way, in most real-world prisons they are obligated to feed you three meals a day. Because that's how much food a human needs. MHY went with one meal just so they can say "if you want to eat more, you have to work." And then the welfare meal is a goddamn gacha. So imagine you're a starving child who's too weak to work in the fucking robot assembly line, and you wander up for your first meal in 24 hours, only to luck in with a shit one. I'd kill myself.

They wrote Wriothesley, who's a victim of the system, into a guy who's say shit like "I'm the Duke I can do whatever I want" for a cool moment where he choke-slams an inmate (I know he was a bad guy. But also, in copaganda when cops are violent/disregarding protocols, they are always only portrayed to do that against bad guys, so what does our critical thinking tells us about this one?) They wrote Wriothesley, who was an inmate of a prison so bad, so notorious that it is the literal boogeyman of Fontaine, that has a legal (???) fighting pit, with an administrator who abuses his position to be unreasonable, to willingly stay in the place and become an Administrator who would choke-slam an inmate while saying a cool line about how he has the power to do whatever he wants. They wrote him, the guy who had to be fed on the streets by melusines, to think one-meal-a-day was a good enough reform (while he spends god-knows how much on his boat). This wasn't a victim-turns-into-abuser narrative either, they want all this to be seen as positive character growth.

And then, the final kicker is, they gloss over his entire abuse. You can only read about these shit in his profile, which most people don't because they don't Have Him or doesn't care to unlock it/read it online, and they jammed his entire backstory into a flaccid info-dump at the end of his character story quest. This man isn't Allowed to feel abused and neglected and show any reaction to it within the narrative of Fontaine itself, because if they actually Gave Weight to what happened to him, they'd have to confront THE FUCKING JUSTICE SYSTEM they had NO PLANS on criticising. I don't think they ever explicitly said the fucking Crime-Theatre nonsense was Bad either.

I could go on, but this is already so long. But yeah, I hope this gave you an idea.

[queenlucythevaliant]

Here's what I'll say regarding choice of worship music (and I'm not 100% sure where I'm going with this, so bear with me): I think it's very easy to get burned out on specific kinds of worship, no matter what they are. And that kind of burn-out is hard.

I grew up at a church that did 95% CCM for worship, and after a while it either (a) exhausted me emotionally or (b) bored me. By the time I hit high school, I really really struggled with corporate worship because it felt as though I wasn't responding as I was supposed to. Getting to sing mostly hymns at the church I attended at college was a huge breath of fresh air, and it helped me immensely in terms of re-orienting my heart towards Christ-centered worship (as opposed to me-centered worship.) For the first time in my life, I found myself listening to Christian music on my own time during the week.

I watched the recent Jesus Revolution movie with mom over the summer. Her family started attending Calvary Chapel (then-nascent hippy church in Orange County) midway through her childhood, and she got really excited talking about the difference between the hymns she remembered from early elementary school ("we sang the whole hymnal rather than selecting for the really good ones like they do at your church") and the much more dynamic music that came out of Maranatha and other early "contemporary" Christian groups. She actually played me a whole bunch of the songs she grew up with the next morning. They sounded horrifically cheesy to me, but she got real joy out of it and even ended up texting a few songs to my aunt.

And yet, my mom has remarked a whole bunch of times to me that she really can't stand current CCM; that she desperately misses singing the old hymns. I look at myself and my own experience and I can totally see myself coming back to some of the CCM songs I grew up with and encountering Christ through them all new again. As recently as last month, I had a really beautiful experience driving back from a concert crazy late at night with my sister and listening to some of the old Chris Tomlin and Hillsong stuff that I hadn't heard in a while. It brought me back to a sense of incredible comfort and safety nestled up against God like a baby chick. Do I want to worship with that sort of music every week right now? No, definitely not. But it has its place.

Obviously worship transcends something as incidental as music genre. It's an expression of why we were created: glorifying God and enjoying him forever --- and yet, because of the fall, it's really easy to get burned out on specific expressions of worship. I don't necessarily think that's a bad thing so much as just a symptom of the fall. I also think that people who are really burned out on a particular kind of worship can be really, really obnoxious about it. I know I was for a while, and I still definitely have my hangups with CCM.

But like- I don't think it's so much about judgement or superiority towards the kind of worship music that you're burnt out on as it is just the overwhelming sense that that kind of worship music felt exhausting and this kind of music actually feels like I'm able to worship again. I know when I started singing hymns at church, it just felt like I'd found the Rosetta Stone. I was suddenly so much less in my own head on Sunday mornings and oh my goodness singing to God was a joy again and I can't remember but I don't think it's ever been a joy like this before has it?? It was almost like my head was spinning with some great new revelation and when I was obnoxious about it it was mostly a manifestation of my being like Why didn't anyone ever tell me it could be like this? Why isn't everyone singing hymns? It's just so much better this way!

Mostly, it just feels like saying "don't be overly critical of how other Christians like to worship" kind of. Misses the trees for the forest, if that makes sense? Like, it's accurate to the big picture, it's absolutely a true and worthwhile thing to say. But at the same time it kind of rankles for me because it misses how it feels to be truly and deeply alienated by the kind of worship you're exposed to.

For better and for worse, worship is (I think) the spiritual discipline that engages the emotions most directly. The feeling of being in a group of people all worshipping together, and your heart just isn't responding right no matter how you try to re-focus and orient it? It's one of the loneliest feelings I know.

[incesthemes]

so the first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in hell.

and i want to postulate on this concept of the righteous man. both john and dean are considered by this prophecy to be "righteous men," and of course they are both candidates for michael's vessel. it's in their blood.

but at the same time, this is a destiny that must still be fulfilled. action is required to create a righteous man—aka, they have to be sent to hell in the first place. they have to become worthy of being michael's vessel through their participation in starting the apocalypse.

john dies in 201. he's at peace; he's accepted the terms of his deal, and he's accepted his fate. his soul and the colt for dean's life.

there are two conflicts presented across season 1:

the first is on the topic of revenge. ultimately, the conclusion is that revenge is pointless, it will lead to no positive outcome—the past has already happened, and once blood is spilled there's no getting out of it, no stopping. knowing what happened to her brother didn't make kathleen feel better about his death. max killing his family didn't make his pain go away.

the second is on the topic of family. it's a more subtle theme, i guess, suggesting that family will invite destruction to everyone around them. the tagline "the good of the many outweighs the good of the one" is proven to be erroneous and ruinous: by choosing the family, by choosing to protect loved ones, great harm will inevitably come to the outsiders. we see this foreshadowed in 111; we see this exemplified when dean shoots and kills an innocent man in 121.

so choosing revenge and choosing family are both bad choices. but the conflict of season 1 is revenge vs family—sam as the protagonist has to choose one or the other. he's not given a third option.

john, however, finds that third option. he abandons his quest for revenge by relinquishing the colt to azazel, and he abandons his family by sacrificing himself. the act of sacrifice is seen as a selfish one (see: crossroad blues), one committed by a man who cares more about his own feelings than that of the person he saved. this is the recurring narrative throughout seasons 2 and 3—it's not something that john did for his son, it's something he did for himself. and in fact, his act of sacrifice puts sam and dean in more danger by leaving them without a weapon to combat azazel and without any of john's knowledge about the demon or sam's fate.

he doesn't choose revenge. he apparently doesn't choose family. he found the third option: he removed himself from the story.

so he managed to choose both "correct" options: he avoided ruin by abandoning his revenge, and he avoided ruin by abandoning his family. and he went to hell.

he became a righteous man, set to break the first seal to the apocalypse.

dean ends up following these exact steps at the end of season 2—the difference is that doing so is dean's fate and not necessarily john's. the other difference is dean is not at peace with his decision to die. john went to hell but he had accepted it. he was ready and willing to go, and he took what was given to him. even in all hell breaks loose, he's happy and serene in death, in hell. it's his commitment to his actions that separate dean and john.

but dean, through sam's influence, second-guesses himself, and his own shame and hypocrisy stir within him doubt and uncertainty. he doesn't want to die; he doesn't want to go to hell. when he gets there, he screams out for sam, wanting to be saved.

dean breaks. john doesn't.

obviously dean going to hell and breaking the seal was part of his destiny—that much is obvious. but i think it's important that it's dean's actions and decisions that lead him down that path, that he's not a passive receptor for his fate. it doesn't happen to him; he chooses it. sam has to act and decide in order to fulfill his destiny, so dean should be beholden to that same thing. which is why i like this interpretation that it's this selfish sacrifice that creates a righteous man—by dean's own hands he creates his destiny and starts the apocalypse.

john was able to escape this because he's not faced with the same conflict dean is. he's able to find peace and take himself out of the story, choosing both "correct" options and being okay with those decisions. dean makes those same "correct" decisions as john (in dean's case, the conflict he is given is not revenge vs family but duty vs family, and he abandons his duty and his family all the same), but he lacks the conviction that john has. he can't remove himself from the story, he's filled with doubt and unresolved tension, he can't let go fully. there is no peace in dean's story, and the righteous man broke.

and as he breaks, so shall it break.

[definitelynotshouting]

(scared) What... what happens if Grian explains right off the bat when he's found out? (shaking)

in reference to the tags of this ask

So like. A really huge part of what Scar's plan entails in canon-- and yes, it's Scar doing this partially on purpose-- is the inherent kindness of the hermits. You bring a starving, dying man back into the fold, and you can absolutely bet that the VAST majority of hermits will at LEAST let him stay until he's healthier again. This is a deliberate move on Scar's part!!! The urgency of the situation (plus the familiarity) creates more of an incentive to let Grian in and then let him linger, which gives him a chance to grow his roots again and make up with the hermits. Scar wants him home again, permanently, and in this game its basically ALL about buying time.

So what happens when you take away that sense of "he's gonna die if we dont keep him here" urgency?? Well...

Well, in an au where Grian fessed up instantly abt the starving and making games when confronted, there's a lot more room to think about it. In some ways, hunger!Grian's canonical reaction to shut down and just let them furiously throw them out was a lot kinder and ultimately worked to his advantage-- nobody got any answers, so they started looking. People are more willing to talk to him if only to understand why. There's a clear element of "i was just doing this to survive and i feel fucking horrible about it" that is,,, pretty undeniable when you've got the person in question self-harming pretty severely about it. And yes, there's pity. Not always a bad thing, and in this case thats the element Scar is deliberately tugging on to make Grian's stay a bit more palatable until he can reintegrate himself

But when you have time to think about it, without that immediate evidence, without that sense of raw urgency sorta blanketing everything so people dont question as much-- what you get is a more measured, and ultimately more negative outlook. The hermits OF COURSE take the time to help Grian figure out how to feed without using people's emotions. They're kind like that. They do care. But theres now more time to think about this, more time to decide yeah, thats valid, sure, but he still used us and hurt a lot of us and also we didnt consent.

Essentially, what im getting at here is that in a hunger au variant where Grian fesses up immediately, the hermits do help him figure out a way to feed without relying on others... and then when thats all sorted out, a vote is called, and Grian is politely but firmly requested to leave. So he loses them anyway, and without the benefit of a mystery to help bring him back.

Thats not to say the vote wasnt awfully divided, there were plenty of people who were at the very least okay with him staying. But with more time and less distance to think things out, a lot of the folks who fall into the "wary but willing to hear him out" category in canon (i have a whole chart fiejfjdj) ended up moving to the "we dont want him here" side of things because they found themselves understandably uncomfortable with the situation and the harm caused by it to others. To their friends.

Basically, its enough of a majority vote to get Grian kicked anyway and without an opening to return. And in this au, i dont think he would return. The au as i have it outlined is that Grian ends up spending years alone on a singleplayer world, falling into his grief and into the rote cycle of surviving but not thriving, until Iskall (one of the people who wanted him to stay) meets him in a market hub and eagerly gets back in touch with him.

Its very much one of those aus that really SQUEEZES your heart, bc its about the loneliness, and the emptiness of losing your entire community, and knowing it is your fault. Its about what happens when you fully isolate because of guilt and forget what its like to be happy because you wont LET yourself be happy. And its about relearning what its like to be a person instead of personified misery. The recovery in that au is SO much harder, so much of a more difficult road (which is saying smth considering canon's is already super difficult), and takes a lot more time and effort on Grian's part. Its a good au, one im really sinking my teeth into and chattering about in dms, but my gods is it significantly worse in many ways to canon hunger au

[appsa]

[can-i-get-a-yippee]

You know it’s a good thing Buck didn’t die for real last season bc if Eddie acts like this when his wife died a traumatic way, imagine how insane he would be if both his wife AND best friend/co-parent died in traumatic ways

[guruguruguruguru]

the longer i sit with it the more it really gets me how nobody ever really mentions obito and rin before obito's reveal in shippuden. kakashi vaguely mentions his old friends and i think other characters allude to the tragedy of kakashi's past but rin and obito themselves are lost to time. something about that is so fucking haunting and so gutting. you would think it would be a pretty big deal that two kids from the same class died within a year of each other, but the nine tails attack probably wiped so much clean that nobody could really carry the grief... still, when we see their class in flashbacks, we recognise almost everyone else, so... there's something really sad and hopeless about their absence...

there's a lot a LOT to say about it from a lot of different angles and i don't really feel like going into meta posting territory i just have big feelings about it you know? and to me i guess obito encapsulates a lot of the anger. for the people who get left behind and forgotten. and that can mean a lot of things

[trans-xianxian]

for someone who Hated going home for the holidays, first christmas post mom death is proving uncharacteristically upsetting

[tomatoluvr69]

At least there’s delta blues. At least there’s the delta blues. No matter what happens there’s delta blues

[drdemonprince]

Things are gonna change

and not for better

I don't know what it means for me

but it's hopeless, hopeless

[bluffmotel]

MAYBE MEMORY IS ALL THE HOME YOU GET ,

vince & tyler smoke together, unfinished .

familiarity takes root in everything tyler does now, no matter how far it is from what's been. it's like his eyes search for it everywhere he goes, wrapping thorny tendrils around his hands when he finally does find that staticy ache only to tug until it all bleeds over. spills and pours and all that's left is a drop in his cottoned mouth, savored for as long as he can carry it without swallowing ... and with the life he's lived, with the folks who brought him up, it ain't hard -- second nature, almost, to cling onto what keeps you afloat, despite how ready it is to give. and here he is, housing that faded nostalgia in the pit of his belly ; awkwardly sprawled out on the couch with numb limbs and a mind full of fog. eyes lidded, surely dazed as he stares at the blank television screen. head resting on the armrest with his hair askew, pulled at odd angles from all the times he's changed positions, cause even now tyler can't help the need to fuss. doesn't think he can ever turn that off, that sorta vigilance. being on the run does that to ya, though he's airy enough to admit he's always been more of the hardwired type. gaze shutters for another slow blink, fanning the already used and burnt twigs within for a gust of warm flames that die too fast to keep, all while he swipes the tip of his tongue across cracking lips. vaguely thinks : this is why glue's better, without any passion behind it.

there's no sound except his own breathing, which has always been quiet -- snuffed, in houses with families of five. he can't hear it the way he can hear vince's, labored and wispy when he exhales the smoke. can spot the rise and fall of his chest, or at least tyler thinks he can anyway, although it gets harder to tell whether his eyes are open or not as time drags on ; the same way pink lips take a drag of billowing grey. if he ignores his blurring surroundings, and pretends the weight dipped to his left ain’t there, he can feed that featherlight feeling trapped inside. somethin' ageless, valuable in ways money can't buy. a memory of him crammed on a twin-size bed with squeezed plastic in his grasp, nostrils sizzling and wet like he's gonna bleed ; and there's laughter wheezing out from beside him. concealed in a body that's more skin than clothes, reds and pinks and hair that'll be slick if he cards his hands through it. he doesn't remember if he did or not, a flash of gold seering behind his eyelids and a wink of a softened smirk instead. yet he remembers what it pumped him full of, made him all heavy and slow, like he was carrying around still warm coals. sluggish but content, a high they'd spend free time chasing ... but it was always more about the company than anything. blood above all else. tyler wouldn't let himself be like this around just anyone.

( misses him, his baby brother ; both of 'em / time doesn't heal it but it makes the load easier, idle hands make it worse )

and the thing is? that sense of ... longin', that aimless need that circuits underneath pricking skin? he feels it now, the blueprint of it. ramping up the way it did back then until it hits this breaking point, since everything's got one nowadays. there isn't a single structure without a weak spot. and this, whatever it is, is tyler's. juvenile giggles wash around his ears, the holt's background noise as he's pulled back to the present event. leaning on the brown coated shell that's being extended to him for support, bleary blues following the slight shake of the other man's hand before settling. the full picture becoming crystal clear in view. he furrows a brow at the blunt ( joint? ), dwindled down to reddened fingertips, and wonders if it'll do him any favors. though the lazy beat of his heart spikes with excitement, already knowing how wet the tip of it will be from how long vince was smoking. sucks his dry bottom lip in to tongue at chapped flesh, imagining the good it'll do, while he reaches out to pluck it away. brushes marked fingers along the meaty outline of vince's half-made fist, lingering longer than he'd normally let himself just cause he can. because it strikes tyler hard, like the crack of a belt, when he feels how soft the other's hands are. the palms are scratched to hell, he remembers, but on the outside it's pillowed. he barely feels the knuckles when he drags his index across, though he can make out the faint hairs that line them. it makes him shudder and retreat, smokey haze rolling in before he even takes a hit. goes straight down his airway and he breaks into a cough, guttural noises that make him sound bigger than he is.

“you okay?” vince asks, all compassion. through watering eyes he sneaks a glance his way and is quickly taken by the sight ; pinkish whites staring straight back, neck craned at a comfortable angle. the holt blinks and belatedly realizes his bad leg's wound up in the man's lap.

“yeah,” tyler murmurs, shifting his body further up the couch, edging his foot away. the hand he's pushing into the cushions for stability slips out right from under him, and he lets out a curse that's a little late. “fuck.” tries again with better luck this go around, leaving just his lower calf in vince's space. ankle bumping the man's knee.

vince is good-natured ( with or without the pot ) and only laughs it off, the hearty sound mingling with the one already whirring around his head like machinery. sinks from his gnawing chest to his bottomless stomach, resting near the slowly gathering fire pit. he sucks in the final whiffs of smoke, cheeks hollowing to allow room until he removes the remains from his mouth ; exhaling it back into the room after letting it turn to ash in his throat. allows the roach to hang from between his fingers without much fanfare, head dipping back so he can fixate his gaze on the ceiling. there's nothing to see, obviously, but the odd angle feels nice on his cramping neck as of late -- soothes a restless part of him and makes his breathing even out. he's taken more naps on this couch than he can count on deft fingers, lulled into sleep the way he struggles to sleep back 'home.' tyler almost feels like he could take one now, body rooted to comfy leather and head light. though his heart's too heavy for it, floating aimlessly alongside blood and bone with no direction. if he tries to sleep like this he'll have bad dreams for sure. doesn't matter how high he is or how cozy this couch feels, the holt's had them enough to pinpoint the warning signs of one. bangs wisp across his pinching forehead, heavy lidded look threatening to fold in an attempt to stay awake. free hand reaching to scratch at his beard, coursing through fiber hairs and streaking red over baby moles. trying to tear away the creeping image of dale laid out, kicked and withering bedsheets replaced under him by unfamiliar floors. something swollen red by his hand.

breath hitches against his will, teeth baring as his fingers crush the blunt in his fingers from knuckles straining. the hazy cover coating his form dispersing as he tenses, like he's in a shoot out rather than lounging around with vince. instincts over mind is how tyler's begun functioning for so long, he don't know nothin' else. can only lick his lips again and steel a quivering arm, dragging a hand over his face to further cement ragdog features. startles, all cornered animal like, when he feels a heavy hand rest on his leg. thick fingers slowly curling around his bare ankle ; it wasn't often that the holt took off his shoes when visiting, always prepared to flee at a moment's notice, but vince had wiggled a shoe off for him and ... well, tyler kicked off the rest. can't remember why. must've been the drugs getting to him if anything. but the contact's surprising, naked skin rubbing against naked skin, manages to distract him from the bad parts of rememberin' with the gentleness of it. vince's hand drifts higher, fingernails pushing back the pant leg of his jeans to poke at the meat of his calf ; and the sleepiness he was fighting with earlier dawns on him harder this time round. eyes falling shut and lips parting to breathe when his nose just ain't getting enough of the smoke filled air, the rise and fall of his chest at an all time low -- jolting leg going limp in vince's grip. he doesn't know how much time passes with the two of them being like this, only that he jolts awake when he feels his rib cage crunch together from a newfound weight. a startled noise jerking out his scratchy throat when blue eyes snap open, partially off the couch, only to be met with the other man half on top of him, tyler's wrist in his grasp. muscles tighten all over, blearily readying for some kinda spurned fight, but something's pried from his hands and he slowly glances over.

vince doesn't show off the scrawny remains of what he spent a good couple minutes rolling, an activity tyler keenly watched, he simply puts it out in the ashtray before sending him a smile he's seen time and time again. “it was about to fall, had to ... uh, stop it.”

if he could, he'd feel more responsible about the whole thing. should've put it out instead of letting it hang in his unreliable grip. though all tyler can think about is how he doesn't mind this position as much as he thought he did, once the confusion’s worn off. there's somethin' nice about it, the other man halfway over him ; the fact tyler can feel the contact in his bones, in the way his guts squish together from the cumbersome load. distantly reminds him of a shield, or a weighted blanket all the uppity class kids would gush about in arizona despite having no need for 'em, what with the weather and all. tightly wound defenses ooze out of his body the way bullets get removed from skin, precise and careful. thin brows angling up in consideration, brain pleasantly humming ; a car engine recently fixed. “mmh,” is the best he gives, having realized a couple of seconds too late that he'd just been staring all awe eyed at vince instead of speaking. it's a hum of approval, or at least a noise of 'yeah, i heard ya' which seems to always be a green light for the older man. who licks the top of his teeth beneath a warm, fuzzy beard and continues on. the talker between the two, even though tyler's hoarding more words than usual on his tongue now that there's a buzz in his system.

“i know you would clean it up,” vince murmurs, a fact that makes tyler's heart swell. “it's just that zoe hates it, so i try to keep it out of the house. and if it gets on the carpet, it'll stink. bad. nearly as bad as my toilet after i eat some awful chinese food.”

it's humor that only dale would find funny ( which he had, back then ) but somehow it rouses a tiny peep of amusement from tyler too. all huffing nose and twisting lips that he keeps licking at, skin slowly going all raw and strawberry red. but in spite of the tiny reaction, vince's eyes light up, greenish-blue outshining whatever murky pink's taken over. a chuckle coming from the other man before, like all else, it dies down into silence. leaving the younger to belatedly think about how they're still smoking inside vince's house anyway, that vince lets him whenever he's over ; it's mostly cigarettes, but the point still stands tall and proud. and that realization makes him soften more than it should, a softness somehow possible for someone like him, hw winds back down into velvet completely ; not in the mood to hide any of his staring once his head's back up. chin tucked into peeking out collarbones as he watches, eventually moving stone heavy arms in order to cross them lazily across his chest.

[lconoclasts]

Can't add the exact timestamp (it's at the end) but they just??? Jump off screen???? Do they not die???

My general consensus with this fight is that it's just extra content and... in-between canonicity. They don't show up in the credits (in a scene) regardless if you kill them or not, and the pupils are alive(?) or possibly some other ones are alive as they could just look similar/be reused sprites

long speculation under the cut

Fitzroy is lore for sure which contradicts some of the implications about trancending that we get but like. Royal is kind of a dumbass AND is being told all of this from mother/one concern. There's multiple implications of the "ancestors" (both isi and Him followers) coming from somewhere else/resetting the planet and leaving instructions/tech for their respective people to use. Fitzroy seems to fit in the between stage before the concern has studied the tech, but AFTER the Ancestors arrived/reset the planet. In The Tower and the Bastion there are images of famous earth landmarks (taj mahal, new York, pyramids I think) implying that some sort of Earth was destroyed/minerals drained (more connections to the themes about environmentalism) and that humanity was "reset". RIGHT BUT CANONICITY. Fitzroy is more lore... If u want him to be. The true past of humanity is still foggy ESPECIALLY with conflicting views from Him followers and the Isi. The concern claims to have longer records of history, and has aforementioned images, but they shape it to their beliefs and leave out certain parts intentionally as well as only educate people deemed more faithful (concern staff) and censor/mysticize parts for the common folk and ESPECIALLY city one residents. Cough cough 'merica haha but not really I doubt he was thinking about Americans specifically. This is more likely a commentary on religion specifically they larger ones and how they shape societies views and history! (Remember when we used B.C?) I'm not going to say this is an effective commentary or a scathing remark on Christianity (I believe that Christianity is used as a reference as it's the poster child to westerners for what "religion" is. He probably intended for this to be about religion as a whole but like. Come on. It's definitely Christianity with a few changes to make it a "generic religion" especially with the focus on punishment and ascension to a "good place". They also use sin/sinners a few times but that may be for familiarity especially since he had a whole npc for explaining terminology) that aside. Canonicity. Again. The history behind the Starworm followers vs the Isi is intentionally left a mystery! Fitzroy and Leticia are real as fuck (if u think they're canon) and provide some ideas for what actually happened in history but who knows! I should get back to my conversation I got distracted haha.

[fadeintoyou1993]

[hecksupremechips]

Girl like. The reason he said "this is how it should be" and faced death with a smile....is cuz he wanted to die. For 2 years he sat there thinking he was worthless and deserved to die. If he hadn’t be shot, his death would’ve been suicide, he was fully planning to die in a gutter somewhere undetected. When saying "this is how it should be" hes literally saying "don’t cry because I’m dying, my death is a good thing actually because I fucking suck and you are better off without me". I don’t think that’s badass even slightly, it’s actually really sad and really shitty. Shinjiro is so convinced that he deserves to die and hates the idea of anyone giving a shit about him because he literally can’t wrap his mind around the idea that he will be missed when he’s gone, that his death is a bad thing actually. And his last words were meant to be comforting because he fully did not intend for anyone to be there when he died, he intended to die alone, so he says them as a reminder that he’s not worth crying over

Personally, if it were me, if I was holding my dying best friend in my arms who was deeply depressed and suicidal and he said "this is how it should be" uh. I wouldn’t admire him for it??? Like am I losing my mind when I say the way this game handles Shinji is bad or is anyone else seeing this too 😰

[silverwhittlingknife]

Dick at Janet Drake's funeral

Dick (internally): The cruel fates, the Greeks called them. The three sisters weaving the loom of life, spinning its golden threads into the years - cutting it whenever the whim took them. Stupid! But I guess we all need something to help us make sense of it all. We need to find meaning in the pain…patterns in the chaos. Tim needs it now, as I once did. As Bruce did before me. So why do we make our faces into masks? Why do we hide the pain we all feel? Tim: Thanks for coming, Dick. I know how busy - (They shake hands.) Dick: It was the least I could do, Tim. Believe me - I know what you're going through. If you need any help, any time - Tim (looking down): I appreciate that. But... I'll cope. (In the background, we see Tim shaking somebody else's hand.) Dick to Bruce: He's a brave kid. He's in control. Bruce: Yes. Dick: You know what comes next, don't you? - Batman 455 (Christmas Eve, the day before Tim officially becomes Robin)