i love immortal pixlriffs, but there's so much imagery behind him being just a mortal man.
he's an archeologist delving into the deep dark. anyone else would be afraid, but he's there for research, for discovery, with a torch and a sword he knows will do nothing against the keeper of the skulk. but he's inside the city and he needs to know more.
he's documenting and rewriting history amongst a group of people who are absolutely insane. every day he speaks to a god like he's an equal, and history reverberates around the man like the strings of a lyre--joel has his hands tangled in the world and is pulling and molding and it is breathtaking to witness.
scott explains his eye and pix feels the itching, the yearning to study it, to know it, where it came from, what it really does, but he approaches him like a friend, because he is a mortal and scott is a little more than that.
fWhip's caves are sprawling and endless and filled to the brim with choices he can see written across the stone walls. he knows the wood will degrade before the deepslate. he knows the signs will burn out and the rails will break apart and it will be ruins, it will all be ruins, everything, in the end, is ruins.
he rolls his sleeves up and explores. there is stratos, held aloft by what can only be magic. there's animalia and its ruler who is something different than human and he can feel it in his bones. the evermoore is filled with fog and mist and it takes every warning to keep from running in, from breathing in the fog and seeing what it really does. everything around him is a story, and he is just a man. he is just a man who needs to know.
the world is built around him in waves and he is surfing. the walls are old and crumbling and he is young and strong. the pages are yellowed and musty and he is hungry, he is starving, he is itching with the remnants of a thousand ghosts all around him and the twelve empires standing taller than he could hope to reach.
he's just a man in a world beyond his reach, and all he could ever want is to touch it and know what it all means.
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it's okay. derek with his wrists tied behind his back and a vibrator up his ass and on his dick, whimpering and sobbing. okay? :)
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Time’s Arrow is the best episode of Bojack Horseman.
No questions, no qualifications, nothing else to add. Time’s Arrow is the best episode of the best American TV show, and even with all of Bojack’s other high points, it’s not even remotely close. Nothing hits as hard, nothing cuts as deep, nothing so horribly and perfectly captures the raw, beating heart of Bojack Horseman as the life and times of his mother Beatrice. The sins she passed down to him, the mistakes made from generation to generation, the ways she tried and failed to break the cycle her father trapped her in, all the pitiable and unforgivable things she’s done, just one more victim of that broken system known as The American Dream and one more slave to its lies, crashing and cascading like waves on the shore of her rapidly fracturing mind, past and future splitting apart in perfect mirrors of each other, time’s arrow twisting and tangling and tying itself in knots as it spirals onward and onward and onward until it finally-
Can you taste the ice cream, mom?
It’s a small thing, really. A small thing that, in the grand scheme of things, doesn’t seem to matter that much. But in trust, Beatrice not being allowed to have ice cream is everything. It’s the smallest, pettiest, most revealing evidence of the misogyny and abuse her father poisoned her with. Denying his little girl something as simple as a frozen treat because “That’s not a dessert for a lady.” So controlling, so set in his ways, so utterly blind to the toxicity of his good-old-fashioned American values, that he crushed his daughter’s spirit into a tar-black pit bereft of even the smallest indulgences she could call her own. The same poison she passed down to Bojack, the same poison Bojack fought to hard to avoid passing down to anyone else, all the sins of the Sugarman name and everything it represents wrapped up in goddamn ice cream.
onward until it finally-
And here at the end of all things, Bojack finally has the chance he always wanted to throw it all back in her face. To lay into her for all the horrible things she’s done, for all the chains that dragged them both underwater. To continue the rage and pain that’s imprisoned this family for generations.
until it finally-
But he stares at this old lady. This sad old lady, ravaged by dementia, no longer the monster he once knew. An old lady who, much like him, caused so much pain because she suffered so much pain. An old lady who can never be forgiven for the things she’s done but deserves nothing but forgiveness for the things that were done to her. An old lady who tore her way through life, trying in some impossible way to be better than the sins that birthed her even though it was never enough.
An old woman who was never even permitted the simple joy of ice cream
it finally-
And without even fully knowing the significance of what he’s doing... Bojack sets her free.
Can you taste the ice cream, mom?
finally
Yes.
finally stops.
It’s... delicious.
It’s not enough. It could never be enough. It’s a single moment of compassion after a lifetime of misery and hatred. It can’t fix any of the things that have been so thoroughly broken.
But it’s a sign that it can be fixed.
The cycle can end.
Bojack can be better than the cesspit he was born into.
Because in that one moment, showing his mother just a smidge of the compassion she never showed to him... he does something that neither she, nor her father, nor anyone else thought possible.
He stopped time’s arrow dead in its tracks.
And maybe when it starts marching forward again this time... it will travel a different path than the one it started upon.
We can only hope.
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