Keni
pixel skylines
$LAYYYTER
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Not today Justin
trying on a metaphor
Sade Olutola
KIROKAZE
styofa doing anything
Love Begins
noise dept.
NASA
Misplaced Lens Cap
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Mike Driver
art blog(derogatory)
Janaina Medeiros
will byers stan first human second
seen from Maldives
seen from United States
seen from Poland
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from Italy
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Syria
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
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seen from United States
seen from Italy
@eucalyptusnomore
Intro!!!
My name is Archemides (call me Arch!) and I draw dragons 🐉 (mainly WoF things like my OCs)
I try to post every few days/at least once a week, but sometimes things happen (mainly artblock) which slows me down.
My askbox is open 24/7 so ask me whatever (including requests!) and I'll try to respond! Sometimes requests will be closed tho so ye 🐉
Any and all interaction is appreciated as long as its positive!
My OCs -
Simon's 'rescue' mini fic
Simon was dead.
He was dead and he was in fucking hell.
The last thing he remembered was the sub exploding. Or maybe imploding. It wasn't like he could see what happened, so he had to assume it was exploding.
Every orifice was clogged with thick, oozing blood. His ears, his mouth, his nose. His eyes were squeezed shut, and he knew if he opened them he'd probably only see red. Every wheezing, aching breath tasted of iron, and he swore he was sucking in more blood than air. He practically choked on it, but never seemed to be drowning.
That's how he knew he was dead. He was somewhere deep at the bottom of the blood ocean, his corpse mutating into something unrecognizable. He was more relieved than anything to be dead and in hell than alive and cognizant of whatever religious bullshit he'd been dealing with before. At least he hadn't succumbed to that…that hive mind shit.
He was floating, too. Which was a pretty damn good indicator of being dead. People didn't float. He was sure fucked up blood mutations didn't float either.
His clogged senses were something of a blessing. He couldn't hear the taunting of voices or the gurgles of unknown creatures lurking. Just his muffled heartbeat.
His heartbeat?
Simon was pretty certain that he shouldn't have that. Since he was dead and all.
He hastily reached up to wipe at the blood and muck obscuring his eyes and nearly slipped off of whatever he'd been clinging to. One of his arms - right, there had been that whole fucked up thing where he's pretty sure it got ripped off. Definitely don't think too hard about that, Simon.
He managed to tug himself a bit further onto the makeshift raft he was on, attempting again to clean his face and eyes of blood. It was caked on so thick it made no difference. No light peeked through, but if he had to guess that had more to do with this fucked up moon than the blood itself. He could feel thick rivulets of the stuff running down his face, quickly squeezing his eyes shut to avoid blinding himself further.
So he was….alive. For the most part. Now that the fact of it was settling in, Simon realized how much his body fucking ached.
His head, his face, every bare surface of skin. He ached and burned all over, the pain only dulled by it having been so constant. His arm - the one he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about at all - ached in a way that he was pretty certain meant it was no longer functioning. Or there. Which, yeah, that ….that made sense.
The thought had him gagging, but he swallowed back what he could, shaking his head a little.
“Fuckin’ - don' fuckin’ puke…..Don' puke. Puking ‘s gonna make this a thousan’ times worse” he muttered, the blood so thick in his ears that his voice sounded muffled even to himself. Speaking felt like trying to get his mouth around a bite full of jelly, his tongue clumsy with the sheer amount of blood on it.
God, he hoped he hadn’t swallowed too much already. Simon didn't exactly wanna end up becoming a religious-freak-monster if he could help it. Though, if he kept floating around like this for long enough he was sure he would.
He was beginning to resign himself to floating in blood for eternity when something big splashed into the blood next to him.
The waves it caused washed over him, sending him tumbling and choking into the blood, his grip on his makeshift life raft failing and slipping. He fought against the torrent of disturbed blood, barely managing to get his head above this surface, every limb fighting to keep him afloat. He sucked in a choked, gasping breath, desperately writhing in an attempt to not immediately begin sinking again.
Somehow, between the bloody waves and the lack of enough limbs to fight the force of the current, Simon managed to keep himself afloat for long enough to realise what was happening.
He was being rescued.
They had come back for him. They had come back for him and were trying to save him.
Fuck trying to save humanity, he wanted out. He wanted to live.
They were rescuing him and he'd be damned if he missed this opportunity. He managed to flail his way to the object that had splashed down, his fingers scrambling against the smooth surface for a moment before catching on what felt like some sort of opening. It hissed and fell open, Simon scrambling to climb inside. It was tiny and cramped, and he somehow felt like it wasn't meant to fit a whole person.
Maybe it wasn't a rescue, then, but a retrieval.
He tried not to think too hard about what they’d be retrieving.
Blood nearly filled the small space, Simon only just able to keep his head, mouth and nose above the surface of the thick liquid, his shuddering, painful breaths filling the small space. If not for the blood in his ears, the echoing of it might have driven him crazy.
The opening he'd crawled through suddenly closed, the little light he'd been using to navigate suddenly cut off as it sealed shut.
Rescue or not, Simon had made his choice.
Not even a second later, he was being lifted.
Blood sloshed inside the small space, Simon gasping and coughing as he was forced to hold his breath, attempting to stabilize himself with his remaining arm as he was jostled.
His head hit one of the walls, sending exploding pain throughout his entire skull. One more concussion couldn't hurt, surely.
He gritted his teeth against the pain, spitting blood and viscera from his mouth, trying his damndest to just breathe and hold on.
He was being rescued, whether they liked it or not. He was alive. And they wouldn't be pulling a damn corpse out of this thing.
And that was the last thought he had before his head slammed into the wall again and he was out like a light.
–-----
When he came to, his skull was thrumming with pain, wave after wave of blinding ache making his stomach rolled with nausea.
His sense were still fucked - his ears and nose clogged with blood, his mouth tasting of the thick, foul substance. His eyes were caked in it, but when he peeked them open a little, he could see light. A lot of light.
More than he’d had in the sub, even.
It almost was like-
Something blocked the light out a bit, a presence just in front of him. He jolted back, scrambling backward until his back was pressed against some sort of wall.
There was sound, muffled and garbled. Simon shook his head in an attempt to clear the blood from his ears, wiping at his eyes.
It was still mostly just light, his eyes filled with blood and unable to focus.
Bright, white light made him squint, the red film over his eyes doing little to subdue it. Like it had some sort of supernatural source.
Whatever had blocked the light out before did so once more, a figure taking shape, their head haloed perfectly by the light.
His ears were still clogged, but he managed to pick out the garbled words.
“....Hail Mary….fjej…Grace…”
The words made his blood run cold. Of fucking course this was some religious fucking bullshit again.
Simon scrambled for something-anything to defend himself with.
At best, it wouldn't even be real. A hallucination in his final moments. At worse, it was another fucking religious freak trying to get him to do God-knows-what.
His hands managed to close around something sharp and metallic on the floor next to him, fingers slipping a bit in the thin film of blood that coated it.
He managed to get his feet under him and launched himself at his assailant, ignoring the muffled protests against him.
He thrust the sharp object forward, shockingly connecting with something soft and squishy.
So it was real, and was likely a religious freak to boot.
He and his assailant tumbled to the ground, a muffled cry of pain escaping their lips, Simon’s hand slipping on the sharp object when he tried to pull it out. It clattered to the ground beneath them, Simon reeling back to punch instead.
There was a muffled cry of pain when he managed to land one, and he swore he picked up what sounded like a plea to not hurt them.
He stopped fighting for just a moment, the garbled plea making his breath catch. Religious freak or not, he shouldn't be- he wasn't-
Something huge and heavy slammed into his side, sending him tumbling to the floor again.
It jostled his aching head, his ribs cracking painfully upon landing.
More muffled sounds, more garbled pleas, and something like music.
Fuck, maybe he was dead.
Simon didn't move for fear of whatever had slammed into him hitting him again, his breaths coming out wheezing and aching, his head throbbing. He shouldn't have done that - it wasn't a hallucination, he was supposed to be better than that. He wasn't violent. He didn't mean to. He wasn't the butcher.
He sucked in a sharp, painful breath when something touched him. A hand- it felt like.
It gently squeezed his arm, a garbled voice calling out to him again, hardly clearer than before.
“...okay!...just….’s alright!...cky- ….understand?”
Simon sucked in another painful lungful, shaking his head a bit, barely opening his eyes to see the figure.
Still blurry and fuzzy. Still haloed by light.
Simon sucked in another painful lungful, shaking his head a bit, barely opening his eyes to see the figure.
Still blurry and fuzzy. Still haloed by light.
The figure kept talking, seemingly turning its head away for a moment before turning back to him.
Simon managed to sit up a bit, wiping at his face again in an attempt to clear the blood from his eyes.
He blinked away what he could, and though there was still a watery red film over everything, he could see just a little better. He squinted at the figure, features slowly taking shape.
Eyes, nose, glasses. A very normal, not at all freakish human face.
A man, maybe.
He raked his eyes over the figure for a long moment, before realizing the growing splotch of blood on their abdomen.
Simon sucked in a sharp breath with realization. He’d stabbed them.
“ ‘m sorry…’m sorry, I didn't mean- ‘m sorry, I thought-” he choked out, unsure what to say. Just that he was sorry, he was sorry, he was so sorry.
His head throbbed, Simon squeezing his eyes shut against the pain and just hoping in earnest that this was a hallucination, if only to keep him from being the cause of yet another death.
He mumbled another apology, breathing shakily through his nose, curling in on himself in an attempt to stop the nausea that roiled in his gut.
The person touched his arm again, so gently that Simon was positive that they were a ghost. They squeezed a little more firmly when he didn't respond, and through the ringing in his ears, Simon managed to make out their voice again.
“.....okay…n't have to move…..Um- just.… here. .I-…..ken care of…. we-…do about….blood….cky’s….-urt you…. not…hurt you…we’ll- figure…..don't move.”
The figure let go of his arm, and through the ringing in his ears, Simon could make out that strange music again and a robotic voice somewhere nearby, far different than the figure that had been speaking to him before.
Fuck, he really was still down there, wasn't he? He'd lost too much oxygen and the alarms were what he was hearing. That was it. The person was just another thing he was hearing and seeing. Just another hallucination.
Simon didn't know how long he sat there. His fuzzy mind drifted in and out of awareness, sounds on the edge of his senses that he tried very hard to ignore. He tried to focus on breathing, on conserving what little oxygen he could. His mind zeroed in on his own panting breaths, trying to slow his racing heart.
The bad part about trying not to focus on his senses meant there was plenty of time to focus on thoughts. Memories. Plenty of time to rewatch a gag reel of Simon's Greatest Mistakes on loop.
His throbbing head and body made it all sort of blend together, at least. Nothing terribly solid, just a crawling feeling of guilt and a yearning to have just one thing go right for him…
He didn't know how much time had passed, how much oxygen he even had left. He hadn't heard the beep, though he’d surmised before that whatever was keeping him alive down here had somehow been supplying him with it.
A touch on his arm made him jump, sucking in a sharp breath. Awareness came back sharp and painful, fumbling for his knife in his disoriented state- only to remember he didn't have it.
He backed away from the touch, only to hit a cool wall, the back of his head thumping against it and jostling his already thoroughly shaken brain.
Simon chanced a glance at what had touched him, the same figure from…from minutes or maybe even hours ago standing before him again.
Eyes. Nose. Glasses.
Simon’s eyes refocused a little, and he hastily wiped at them, blinking away the remnants of blood. The figure was a man. A very normal looking man.
His mouth was moving, but Simon could only hear that ringing and incredibly garbled speech.
“..-an ..-stand…me? …aybe…-n't…hear…?”
Simon tried to piece it together, but his brain was all mush from being jostled one too many times. He shook his head a little and hoped the answer sufficed.
This wasn't Eden. And it certainly wasn't the COI…. Far too…sterile. Clean.
The man frowned faintly, glancing off to the side. As if speaking to someone.
Simon followed his gaze to what looked like a weird, fucked up rock inside some kind of…glass ball-thing.
All of this being an elaborate hallucination was definitely not off the table.
And then the thing moved, and Simon’s chest seized with fear, hand automatically going to the knife that wasn't there again.
Not weird alien shit again. He couldn't do that again. He had to get the fuck out of here.
[ TBC after I decide if Ryland Grace knows any ASL. Simon definitely won’t but it'd be a start to them communicating ig
Also sorry for fucked up spacing, docs -> Tumblr fucks it up and I don't have time to fix it rn ]
Wherever here even was.
He glanced around for some sort of exit, but it was all bright lights and buttons - not a door in sight.
No door - no exit.
Just like that fucking sub.
The thought had his head spinning - maybe he really was in hell. Or heaven? No, he'd never possibly be able to get into heaven.
*
Maybe some aliens had scooped him out of the blood and were fucking with him for shits and giggles. Didn't really explain the supposed human man he stabbed, though. Because he was….he was pretty certain that had happened.
He could think about the logistics of it later. Right now he had to get the hell out of here.
Simon scrambled to his feet, boots sliding dangerously on the smooth floor beneath him, spreading blood and viscera in his wake. Standing helped - even if his vision did swim dangerously when he did so, the room warbling this way and that.
He could vaguely hear the man and the alien-rock-creature calling out to him, but he was determined to make his escape.
He spotted a doorway with another section beyond it - that was his chance. It wasn't an exit, but maybe he could barricade it or-or something.
Simon took off running, using what remained of his little energy to boost himself forward, years of pushing himself to the brink allowing for one last burst of desperate adrenaline-
His boots slipped on the too-smooth floor, sliding across it and sending him straight to the floor, a loud CRACK! resounding as his face made contact with the floor and everything went black.
°°°
( forgive me if Grace POV isn't great yet and also Rocky's speech patterns aren't right, I haven't fully downloaded them into my brain year if you know what I mean)
“ I'm willing to bet this concussion he's got has something to do with why he can't understand me, he was speaking English and all,” Ryland rambled, pacing back and forth across the dormitory - or what space was left of it.
♫Do not care. Hurt Grace.♪
“ I wonder if I could do something similar with the computer to help translate - could easily rig up some kind of speech to text, but that won't matter if he can't read it…”
♪Other human hurt Grace. Rocky do not care about communicating, statement.♩
Ryland sighed, running a hand down his face at the words.
He had gotten stabbed and it had hurt so bad, but….
♩♫Grace listening, question?♩
He was probably just scared! That made sense. If Ryland had woken up on a strange space ship-
Well, he had, hadn't he? And if his memory was correct, he too had been fighting - just that it was against Armando rather than another human.
So, yeah, probably just scared.
Plus, he'd apologized! Ryland could barely hear him, given that he was panicking a little, but he'd still apologized!
He couldn't imagine this supposed human had had an easy go of it. For one, he'd shown up in their probe covered in blood and viscera. And he'd been missing an arm. And if Armando was to be believed, he had pretty severe injuries - not ones that Ryland would think were gotten just from being submerged in a blood ocean, anyway.
Ryland suddenly stumbled as something knocked into his legs, only barely managing to catch himself on the wall.
“Hey-”
Rocky had rolled over and knocked into his legs, gesturing as if he'd been trying to get Ryland's attention.
♬Grace not listening! Other human dangerous! Scary! Put other human back on moon!♩
The very idea of it made him nauseous,
“ What!? I'm not going to-”
♩ Fine. Rocky do it. To keep Grace safe. ♬
“Wait-!”
Rocky was tumbling away before Ryland could stop him, presumably to prepare a probe to shoot the unknown man back down to the moon they were orbiting.
“ Rocky, wait-wait wait wait wait!” Ryland hurried to stand in front of him - even if he know Rocky could bowl him over quite easily if he wanted to, “ we can't send him back down there - he just! He was probably just scared, okay?”
Rocky kept trying to roll past Ryland, fidgeting restlessly even as he spoke.
♪ Other Human hurt Grace! Must go back. Danger danger danger danger ♩
He repeated the word endlessly, Ryland let out a groan of frustration, continuously moving over the gaps to keep Rocky in place, “ No, no, we're not- quit moving! We're not sending him back, Rock!”
[TBC]
( I will never write in first person POV, so third person Grace POV be upon ye. I think he'd call himself Ryland in his mind so that's what that's about )
“Listen-” Ryland put his hands on the xenonite ball to stop Rocky's movement, if only for a moment, “It’s amazing that there's even another human this far out, I have to at least find out how he got here and why he was in some sort of..blood ocean. He might even know where to get food.”
He pulled his hands away, trusting that Rocky was listening and wasn't going to immediately try and roll past him again, “ That's why we stopped here in the first place, right? We just…happened to find a potential new companion, too”
Rocky seemed to consider the point for a moment.
♩ Rocky trust Grace. Rocky will make sure Other Human won’t hurt Grace again.♬
The sentiment made Ryland smile, huffing a laugh, “Thanks, bud. I'm glad you have my back.”
°°°
Simon groaned as awareness slowly came back, his head aching with constant, throbbing pressure. His ears rang and he grit his teeth against the piercing, never ending sound, the action only making the pressure in his head worse.
He was somewhere lit, at least, not nearly as dark as the sub. Even if the light hurt his eyes, he opened them a little, squinting against it.
“Eye….-ve-nt….texted…go-....-ing…cr-..ate”
Simon gasped at the seemingly disembodied voice, sitting up far too quickly, his chest seizing with fear. He squinted against the bright room, groaning at the pain it caused. But he had to know there was another person here - he couldn't be hearing shit again!
Something in his face restricted his movement, and when he reached up he discovered it was a mask. He ripped it off his face and tossed it to the side, panting a little with the exertion of even something as simple as that.
He tried to look around, but his eyes couldn't focus. He just knew it was bright. And there didn't seem to be another person around.
“ …-dy….-ment….detected- ….-ave…vere…concus-....-ultiple…-nifi-nt injur-...pl-...-ack…the…-dical…-latform.”
“YO-YOU'RE NOT REAL! GET- UGH- GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY HEAD!” He stumbled off of whatever he'd been lying on, nearly face-planting onto the floor in the process. Fuck, his head ached. His body ached too, though it was far duller than his head. It didn't matter either way, he had to get the fuck out of here.
He didn't know how he got here, or where here was, but if they had followed him to this place…well, it couldn't be good.
Through the static in his head he could hear the voice again, but he just groaned and tried not to listen.
At least he couldn't hear the voice well past the ringing, a small blessing. Even voices in his head could be silenced by a little blunt trauma, who knew.
Something moved in the corner of his vision, Simon whipping around unsteadily to face it - certain that it was another hallucination.
He squinted against the lights, his vision fuzzy. Something spindly and white, like a long, bony arm, was coming towards him - hand outstretched as if to grab him. He stumbled backwards, nearly falling through a doorway into a slightly dimmer corridor.
The voices called out to him again as he turned and hurried down the dark corridor, the lack of bright light helping his head just a bit. It didn't really help the overwhelming dizziness and the slowly encroaching nausea, but that was a problem for when he was safe.
Anywhere that Simon's clumsy feet went, the voices followed, his hands coming up to cover his ears in an attempt to be rid of them - even if he knew they were in his head.
He stumbled down another dimly lit corridor, flinching when lights seemed to come on as he passed. If he could just…could just get his head on straight and get his bearings-
“FUCK-” Simon let out a yelp as he tripped over god-knows-what in his path, sending him sprawled across the floor.
The impact made every bit of him ache all over again, the adrenaline only helping so much as he struggled to get back up.
The sight when he stood up sent a chill down his spine, his breath seizing for a moment.
Stars. Thousands of them.
Even through his blurry vision, the light they gave off- this couldn't be real. This could not be real.
He sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly aware that he wasn't getting enough air. That must have been it. Lack of oxygen.
“ this isn't real…hah….can't run from something that isn't real, Simon, you know that…” He panted, letting out an incredulous laugh. His breaths came shallower and shallower, each one not nearly enough. He was going to suffocate here, but at least he got to hallucinate the stars. It was a nice thought, to die delusional at the bottom of that damn ocean.
[TBC]
Choose your fighter looking ahhh
Okay but imagine being the team of Eridian scientists tasked with keeping Erid's Only Human alive for as long as possible while the whole planet's environment is literally trying to kill him. And then Rocky shows up and is like:
“Grace says he would like half of dome to be water.”
“Oh, is necessary for humans to have large amounts of water question?”
Small Eridian equivalent of a sigh. “No. Not needed for life. In fact Grace will die if he falls in water and does not get out.”
“Tell him we give him water in containers that won't kill him. Lots lots lots of water on Erid for Grace to drink.”
“No. Grace say he want water on ground. Also want it with excess sodium chloride compound so it will be unhealthy for drink.”
“WHY QUESTION???”
To celebrate Erid getting their sun back on track, Grace asks for some alcohol. There's a small amount left from the Hail Mary and Rocky offers to take it to the science Eridians to see if they can synthesise more.
“Grace want this liquid for celebration.”
“Of course.” They scan it. “You have wrong liquid. This contain compounds which are poisonous for humans.”
“Yes yes yes. Grace say humans like feeling of being slightly poisoned.”
“WHY QUESTION?????”
Grace is like one of those extremely finicky tropical fish who instantly die if not kept in extremely specific conditions.
Only here the fish can talk and keeps asking you to make it vodka.
Imagine Grace defined his name as the elegance definition of grace and Rocky spends years thinking how fucking ironic this clumsy leaky space blobs name is.
Until Grace slips out a sentence along the lines of "could you give me a little grace here" and Rocky immediately points out he used a word wrong so Grace has to explain that yeah, grace means elegance but it can also mean mercy sometimes too.
And Rocky has to suddenly reconcile that the clumsy leaky blob that saved his life twice, that almost certainly doomed himself to come back for him, name is Mercy.
funny idea i just got for an Eridian character. meet Hardtack
like a sick victorian child
all all all
comic about grace passing away and reflecting on it with rocky and adrian (with inspo from carl sagan)
Like a child just wandering in a garden… yanking leaves…
hail mary, full of--
Immense gratitude
Thinking about Grace on Erid carving names into a rock one day. Yao and Ilyukhina and Dubois and Shapiro, the fallen members of the Hail Mary Mission.
Thinking about Rocky asking why, and Grace explaining it’s a memorial, a way to remember them. Thinking about Rocky asking to add the names of his own crew to the memorial too, if that’s ok.
Thinking about a memorial with two sets of names from two missions that came together to save the stars.
Thinking about Erid making a second one and sending to to Earth, because it’s a tragedy they share.
Thinking about the day the last two names get added to the memorial.
Exploring Eridian’s biology. Most of it are taken from the book, but I want to add to it :)
My headcanons:
-Rocky and Adrian had kids before Rocky went away. They are now in their (human equivalent) 20s.
-Adrian and Rocky used to be around the same age, now Adrian is MUCH older.
-Baby Eridians are called pebbles (like baby goats are called kids). Yes, this is all Grace doing.
-Eridan’s eggs are like geode.
-Eridian’s eggs (canonically) are laid together when mate and then merge. I however, also think that they would usually go for two at a time for protection (they can watch each other sleep as they get older).
-Rocky name his two new pebbles after Grace and the Hail Mary.
-I’m not a geologist and very much not knowledgeable about rock, but I believe that the green/blue we see Eridians have (movie ver) could be caused by the various level of metal element on their rock layer, like copper and bronze, interacting with the elements over time (Verdigris).
-Baby Eridians are smooth rock. As Eridians grow, they became sharper and more complex looking, caused both by natural aging and external elements.
-Most elder Eridians are green/blue since it’s a form of rusting, kind of like human with grey hair.
Alive
April Fools Ask Flawseer #5
Not currently accepting more in-character asks (ooc asks still fine).
Let's do another one of these, before the month is officially over.
Asked by @sunbitternb
BLAZE: "Oh, I couldn’t possibly choose! There are so many gemstones in so many colors out there and I want ALL of them! Fiery rubies! Cool sapphires! Rich onyxes! Jades, topazes, and agates!! Moonstones and peridots and jaspers and ambers!! Eeeeee!!!"
someone sent me an anon ask about rocky meeting eva and i tried to post it not once but twice and tumblr ate it both times so now im just regular posting it here
i think ryland would grow to understand stratt’s choice with time, and even thank her logic of it because it led to his meeting of rocky, but i dont think he’d ever really forgive her for what she did to him
(Ryland had to prep rocky before they touched down to meet Stratt so he wouldnt charge her at first sight)
thank you for the request :o)
Twice, Ryland Grace is faced with the same pivotal decision: to save himself, or to save an entire planet.
The first time:
He is surrounded by white (bravery) and is wearing yellow (cowardice)
The world is telling him to be brave, but he can’t, not yet, because he is a coward.
He has lost his identity and autonomy
The decision is already made (he must die)
He is all alone (he doesn’t have the bravery gene)
The second time:
He is surrounded by yellow (cowardice) and is wearing white (bravery)
He is in the middle of his namesake: a field of rye. The field is the yellow of cowardice; that is who he was, but he can’t be that, not anymore, because he is brave.
You know who you are. You’ll do great.
The decision is already made (Rocky must live)
Rocky’s ball is beside him (he has found someone to be brave for)
