secret santa gift for @qwertyqwerty88 thanks for giving me the chance to draw this!
secret santa hosted by @epicthemusicalstuff thank you for hosting this and allowing me to draw for someone :D !
A Michael_Beloved animatic about his final moments, because he is an underappreciated character, and has so much potential.
A ramble about him under cut.
TWs:
- bugs
- bones
- talk of death and decay
- I think there is a slight flash but I'm unsure? So flashing warning just in case
michael is an underated npc / character and people should utilise his dynamic more often. i will explain:
he's stuck, he has nothing to do, nothing he can do. because he's an npc, his life will never begin because he's not living. people overlook him and don't pay him mind, his own parents don't pay attention to him. it's not that they don't love him, they do, they just don't have the time nor ability to look after him, atleast not properly.
people treat him more like a glorified pet because he is still an npc, no one should, realistically, love him like a son, at most he is a pet. but he's one of, if not the only, npc on the dsmp that is canonically considered a son, not a pet. shroud is technically a pet, yoghurt is i think considered fundy's son? but if you check on the wiki, michael is the only one of actual listing and not just an addition of another. michael is his own person, and yet is still an npc. he can't do anything, and yet is his own someone. he is someone, not someone's addition. he's not tubbo's son, or ranboo's son, he is michael.
and yet he's still stuck in his room. still stuck having to go along with other people's wills. because he is code. he can't do anything but follow his code.
and so with the charactarization of michael, making him his own person, it allows him the ability to think, yet not do. "i think therefore i am" and yet he can't think. not actually. he still has to follow his code. if you hit him, he must attack back, its in the code. so you can characterize and personalise michael all you want, give him hopes, and dreams, give him depth, but in the end, he is an npc. he can't leave his room, he can't make friends, he can't go explore. he is stuck in his room. just like how rapunzel is stuck in the tower.
in this essay i will explain why michael's song is "when will my life begin"-
[shots fired i bleed out as someone drags my body away]
Ok but in actuality, the rotting aspect of Michael is so great for potential in fics;
michael can be used in fics and i'm heartbroken people don't. see, michael is a zombie piglin, he is quite literally rotting. he is a sick, dying child of neglect and no one uses this to their advantage. do no fic writers see the potential devestating catastrophe of michael? how angsty it could be if he's used right?
I like Michael, can you tell 🥺
And you don't even need him to be a piglin in fics either, he could be a dying plant, or an injured yet beloved pet. He has potential please people listen to me 😭🙏
You can make him disability rep, please I love disabled characters in fics (if done right) and there's so much potential here.
I was messaging my friends while making this too, and I was shattering their very souls with my angst, and the thing is, you can shatter your friend's souls with angst too! Please use Michael, even if he's just a side character in your fic, if you got Tubbo, or Ranboo, please include Michael in some form, like a melted candle, or a torn doodle.
Anyways continuing on with angst!
They say the eyes are the route to the soul, and I like to think piglins only die when their souls are damaged. Only when their light fades.
Michael's usually twinkling eyes, now dull and a sullen blue, holding nothing but pure sorrow, and childish hope now shattered. His parents aren't coming. No one is coming. He's going to die alone. He's going to die, without embracing his parents one last time.
His body so decayed and rotten his ribs are fully out, spiders finding a new home where his once beating heart of love was, and yet he allows them to stay, allowing the bugs to feast on his carcass, because it's something. It's another being simply touching him. And so he lets the bugs eat his dying self, because at least it's something, a distressing comfort to accompany his final moments.
He's not alone. Not yet. It's fine. He's not alone. He won't die alone.. he thinks with his last thoughts, salty tears prickling his eye as he tries to comfort himself, just as his parents would if they were here.
I hope you cry, I hope you sob, I hope those silvery drops of sorrow prick your eyes and roll down your cheeks. If you are angry at me, perhaps you should scream into the bottomless pit of my soul, maybe a shard of guilt might scream back one day. Today's not the day though.
