constantly needing to express my undying love and affection to my friends
I can’t tell if I wanna kiss someone, punch someone, or hug someone rn
TL;DR - Cream the Rabbit is a fuckin’ legend and deserves to have respect put on her name. She goes through some heavy shit.
Spoilers below. It’s a long post so be warned.
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No, you don't understand, the fact that "Terminals play music to lure machines" is even a theory, in universe, implies that Machines being capable of appreciating music is not just canon, it is a fact known and accepted by the humans who made them in the first place.
Please, listen to me, they put appreciation of art into their blood powered tools of war and it's the only reason why their self expression yet finds appreciation even after humanity's end.
Just, just be with me for this. V1s creator might have been into drum and base. Ultrakill OST might just be as canon as the graphic settings (see: Sentry codex entry).
V1 has a fucking "tunes to listen to at work" playlist, and a dedicated song for throwing hands with V2 on it. But it also has a Gabriel theme, and it's creator couldn't possibly have met him. And the songs are so fitting for the stages in general... omg
V1 has a fucking composer AI. It's creator made their super weapon, the "Supreme Machine" a fucking musician. V1 makes music it commits mass murder to. It made a music for Gabriel and V2. 2 songs with themes and motifs for each of its rivals.
Wait wait, fuck. Fuck, wait.
V1
Composed the god damn Requiem motif. It took a look at Lust and went "ahh, yes, a gut wrenching violin solo for this place". And then it put that motif into Order. Which means...
Which means V1 understands the tragedy of the Lust layer and King Minos. Which mean the mindles-ness of its carnage across Hell isn't total. It understands how sad it is enough to make art about it.
I need a moment.
what if they were extremely dramatic but only at home
Hi
I'm trying to prove something.
probably time for this story i guess but when i was a kid there was a summer that my brother was really into making smoothies and milkshakes. part of this was that we didn't have AC and couldn't afford to run fans all day so it was kind of important to get good at making Cool Down Concoctions.
we also had a patch of mint, and he had two impressionable little sisters who had the attitude of "fuck it, might as well."
at one point, for fun, this 16 year old boy with a dream in his eye and scientific fervor in heart just wanted to see how far one could push the idea of "vanilla mint smoothie". how much vanilla extract and how much mint can go into a blender before it truly is inedible.
the answer is 3 cups of vanilla extract, 1/2 cup milk alternative, and about 50 sprigs (not leaves, whole spring) of mint. add ice and the courage of a child. idk, it was summer and we were bored.
the word i would use to describe the feeling of drinking it would maybe be "violent" or perhaps, like. "triangular." my nose felt pristine. inhaling following the first sip was like trying to sculpt a new face. i was ensconced in a mesh of horror. it was something beyond taste. for years after, i assumed those commercials that said "this is how it feels to chew five gum" were referencing the exact experience of this singular viscous smoothie.
what's worse is that we knew our mother would hate that we wasted so much vanilla extract. so we had to make it worth it. we had to actually finish the drink. it wasn't "wasting" it if we actually drank it, right? we huddled around outside in the blistering sun, gagging and passing around a single green potion, shivering with disgust. each sip was transcendent, but in a sort of non-euclidean way. i think this is where i lost my binary gender. it eroded certain parts of me in an acidic gut ecology collapse.
here's the thing about love and trust: the next day my brother made a different shake, and i drank it without complaint. it's been like 15 years. he's now a genuinely skilled cook. sometimes one of the three of us will fuck up in the kitchen or find something horrible or make a terrible smoothie mistake and then we pass it to each other, single potion bottle, and we say try it it's delicious. it always smells disgusting. and then, cerimonious, we drink it together. because that's what family does.
I know it’s not hard to point out reactionaries hypocrisy when it comes to like safe spaces or hug boxes or whatever but genuinely how much of an echo chamber do you have to exist in for you to think this is a reasonable thing to say
Temples are built for gods. Knowing this a farmer builds a small temple to see what kind of god turns up.
Everyone has a right to sleeping with your mother. im sorry that it makes you uncomfortable.Pfp by reagumy
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