q!dapduo parallels in how they handle grief so INTERESTING I LOVE IT (I hate it. I wish they were still alive).
We got q!Slime who while yes he did threaten the lives of others, ultimately and interestingly he never blamed anyone else except himself (and his wife). Slime destroys because he is upset at himself.
Then we got q!Quackity who even if he doesn’t physically lash out or go on a rampage like q!Slime did, he pins the blame on everyone else and to this day is plotting to kill the dude for revenge - Quackity destroys because he’s upset at the world (and even more himself too, but he has not comes to terms with that yet)
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Sooo... I'm stuck with unfinished revivebook.
I don't know how to finish it, the first half Is totem of undieing. I wanted the other ne something with XD, I need to write "book" here, and for some reason I have hand printed on the back, but i have no idea how to finish it
I need some ideas how to fill the pages
The cover was pain xd
Also my English is pretty horrible today, I'm writing C1 tests tomorrow and I have no idea why it is soo bad now
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/ dsmp , latest quackity lore stream SPOILERS , just a rant
the thing is c!tntduo's relationship was always built to be inconclusive, a mess with no head or tail.
from the start, with them hating each other yet wilbur still letting him see the button and with that, the most vulnerable part of him, while quackity set differences aside to try and help him calm down and convince him to not hurt himself.
to the very end, both still hating each other, yet still needing to say their goodbyes because they knew it mattered even though they pretended it didn't.
and then, never getting to do it. a book, a visit, and no answer.
they could never be solid, not as enemies or friends, nothing about them was in order ever and that was probably their strongest link.
they were the closest strangers, so far away but as apart as you can be from a part of you. no hello's, no goodbye's.
and it stayed that way until the end
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It’s 4:35 AM when Wilbur finally finishes double-checking all his bags. He’s got his clothes, his equipment, and his guitar all packed away in their proper places. He’s got a sandwich wrapped up to eat on the train, and he’s got a brand new photo of him and Tallulah in his breast pocket, right next to his heart. He pats it fondly as he glances over his bags one last time, running over his mental checklist to make sure he’s not forgetting anything.
It’s 4:36 AM when Wilbur checks his comm to actually see the time and realizes that he’s running a bit late; the train leaves at 5:00 AM sharp, and he meant to leave six minutes ago so he would have plenty of time to get to the station. He knows he’s cut a pretty good deal with the Federation to let him leave Quesadilla Island to go on tour, but he doesn’t think that their graciousness extends to patience. He can’t miss that train. He starts to pick up his bags.
It’s 4:37 AM when Wilbur’s got all his stuff together and he’s heading for the door. He’s thinking about where the brightest pathways are so he can avoid the night mobs when his eyes land on the photograph hanging by the door. It’s Tallulah, from a couple days before. They’d gone on a little adventure, and she’d written him a sign.
You’re my favorite superhero, papi
It stops Wilbur dead in his tracks. Goddamn. Not even a step out the door, and he already misses her so deeply. She’s fast asleep upstairs at the moment. They said their goodbyes last night since Wilbur knew he’d have to leave so early to catch his train, and he didn’t like the idea of saying goodbye to his daughter when she was half-asleep and he was pressed for time. In a few hours, she’ll wake up, and Phil will be there to take her in, and that will be that.
She’ll be okay. She’s in good hands. She’ll be held, and cared for, and loved—
It’s 4:38 AM when Wilbur drops all his bags at the door and shoots up the ladder, taking the rungs two at a time. He slows down when he gets to the trapdoor, pushing it open with delicate fingers and peeking inside. There, he sees her: his beautiful little flower petal, curled up in her blankets and sleeping soundly, probably, hopefully, dreaming of lovely things.
Wilbur smiles. He climbs up the last of the rungs and tiptoes across the little room, careful of the squeaky boards and the clunk of his boots. When he gets to her bed, he kneels down beside it and runs his hand gently, gently through her wild curls, pushing them back so he can get one last look at her face, soft with sleep.
It’s 4:39 AM when Wilbur brushes his lips to her forehead. “Mi niña,” he whispers in his lopsided-but-no-less-affectionate Spanish. “Mi niña buena. I love you always. I’m going to miss you so much.” He gives her a kiss, softer than the brush of a butterfly’s wings. “Goodbye, my darling. I’ll see you soon.” With no small amount of heartache, he pulls himself away.
It’s 4:40 AM when Wilbur finally gets out the door, bracing himself against the chill of early morning as he hurriedly throws bags over his shoulders and shuts the door behind him as quietly as possible. He regards his house—his home, their home—for a lingering moment before turning away and starting across the yard at a swift pace. His eyes are trained purposefully on the path ahead, because he knows that if he dares to glance back, it’s all over. And so, he goes.
It’s 5:03 AM when a train pulls out of the all-but-abandoned train station of Quesadilla Island. Its single passenger sits at a window, and he watches the distance grow further and further, until the island is nothing more than a bit of morning fog on the horizon.
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