#<- not really a theory but could turn into one

[wingedhallows]

hi ! you asked me to send you my request here (i hope this is working though, i'm still trying to figure out how the app works...) so that you don't forget about it, so here it is again :

just noticed you wanted us to send you asks so here i am :) unfortunately, i don't have any great inspiration to share with you at the moment… anything with vi or ellie williams (my girlsss) is always nice to see. but other than that, completing basketball!vi x ballerina!reader would be super cool, if it's something you'd be happy to do, of course ! (yup, i'm still obsessed with that one…)

bye 🫶 have a great day !

𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓

♒︎ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 loser!ellie x reader / 1.2 k words ♒︎ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 none ♒︎ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 HI !! I'm totally working on 'labyrinth love' right now, maybe i'll drop the last part tonight! this is a little something that's been sitting in my drafts & i think you'll like it (hopefully) so, here u go!!

♡︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡︎

You’re all crammed into Dina’s apartment—some shitty couch, a couple floor cushions, an overturned laundry basket being used as a table.

Music low, drinks half-finished, someone’s passed out in the corner with a blanket that definitely smells like weed and regret.

And Ellie? Ellie’s on the floor, back against your knees, launching into the most insane rant you’ve ever heard.

“…I’m just saying,” she says, hand flailing with a cheeto between her fingers, “If birds wanted to be evil, they totally could. Like, they’ve got flight and hollow bones and talons. You ever seen a goose, man? Those things are demonic.”

The room is silent for half a beat.

“Anyway,” she adds, like she’s just delivered a TED Talk, “that’s why I never trust anything with wings and an attitude.”

Jesse blinks slowly. “Dude, what the fuck?”

But you?

You’re grinning. Fingers carding through Ellie’s hair absently, like you love hearing her unhinged theories about avian world domination. You lean down a little and whisper near her ear, “so… if I wore wings, would you be scared of me?”

Ellie’s neck goes red in an instant. “What—no—wait—maybe? I mean, not in a bad way! Like, in a cool, terrifying, kinda hot way—”

“Jesus Christ,” Jesse mutters. “She’s in love.”

“She’s doomed,” Dina adds, sipping from her beer.

But Ellie’s barely listening—because she’s twisted halfway around to look up at you, and you’re still smiling at her, still stroking her hair, still looking at her like she’s the smartest, funniest person alive.

And she’s melting.

“You’re, like…” she breathes, squinting. “Really pretty.”

You blink, caught off guard for half a second.

“…Thanks, babe.”

“No, like. Really. It’s a problem. You’re smiling at me and I forget how words work. And my brain just goes: pretty. smile. girlfriend. And then there’s just static up here.”

She taps her forehead with two fingers, completely serious.

And you just laugh—soft and sweet—and lean down to press a kiss to her temple.

The room erupts.

“OH MY GOD,” Jesse groans, falling back on the couch like he’s been shot. “How the hell did Ellie pull her?”

“I feel like I’m watching a golden retriever date a goddess,” Dina mutters. “It’s disturbing.”

Ellie turns scarlet, burying her face in your thigh. “Don’t listen to them,” she mumbles. “They’re just jealous.”

You smile down at her, hand curling under her chin to tilt her up again.

“I think you’re perfect.”

Ellie malfunctions. Fully. Stares at you with big, round eyes like you just offered to marry her on the spot.

She mouths perfect? like she’s never heard the word before.

And all you do is nod.

Because you mean it.

Ellie’s still staring up at you, stunned, her face half-buried in your thigh. Everyone else has moved on to another round of some dumb card game Jesse’s pitching, but she’s still stock-still.

You called her perfect.

Her. Ellie “accidentally-walked-into-the-wrong-classroom-and-sat-there-for-40-minutes” Williams. Ellie who once used a sock to hold her blunt ‘cause she lost her lighter and burned her thumb last time. Perfect.

“You good, babe?” you murmur, hand gently brushing her cheek.

She blinks. “Yeah. Yeah, no, I’m chill. Totally chill. Just, y’know, experiencing a full emotional reboot. It’s fine.”

You giggle and press another kiss to the top of her head, and she whines softly into your leg like she can’t handle the affection.

Eventually, someone mentions it’s past one, and the room starts to empty out. You tug Ellie up by her hoodie strings, and she stands like she’s been resurrected, slinging her bag over her shoulder and mumbling something about “walking you back.”

Outside, it’s cool and quiet. The kind of early campus stillness where every window glows soft yellow and the street lamps flicker like they’re just as tired as the students.

You lace your fingers through hers, and she tenses for half a second before relaxing—then squeezing back.

She glances sideways at you. “So. Uh. I meant to ask. That thing you said back there—was that, like, real? Or were you just saying it ‘cause I said your smile makes my brain explode?”

You stop walking and tug her back a little, fingers still locked. “You mean the perfect thing?”

Her whole face goes red again. “That’s the one.”

You shrug, playful. “Guess you’ll have to get used to hearing it.”

She stares. “You’re gonna kill me. You’re actually gonna kill me. Death by girlfriend compliment. Local lesbian found deceased on sorority row sidewalk.”

You grin. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m in love,” she says immediately, too fast, too much. And then realizes, slapping a hand over her mouth.

“Oh my god, ignore that, that was—that slipped out, I didn’t mean to—well I did, but I didn’t mean to say it, not like that, I was gonna wait ‘til, like, Valentine’s Day or a meteor shower or something cool—”

You stop her with a kiss. Gentle. Quick. Just enough to make her forget what planet she’s on.

When you pull back, she’s blinking, dazed. “…was that a good kiss or a ‘shut up, loser’ kiss?”

You smile. “Both.”

She huffs. “Rude.”

But you’re smiling at her with that look again—the one that says she’s yours, chaos and all—and she leans in close, bumping her forehead to yours.

“I meant it,” she mumbles. “Even if it was an accidental I-love-you. I do.”

You tilt your head, whisper back, “Me too.”

Ellie practically floats the rest of the way to your dorm. You part with another kiss, and she’s halfway down the hall before she turns around, walking backward and beaming.

“You still think I’m perfect?”

You laugh. “I think you’re mine.”

And that’s all it takes. Ellie bolts out of sight before you see the way she pumps her fist in the air, quietly muttering, “holy shit, holy shit, I have the best girlfriend on earth.”

She’s standing in the middle of her room. Hoodie still half-on, phone gripped like it’s both her lifeline and her greatest threat.

Her cat’s staring up at her from the bed, judgmental as hell.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she mutters, flopping onto the mattress. “You didn’t see her. She said I’m hers. I had no choice but to fall apart.”

The cat blinks.

Ellie’s phone buzzes.

[You]: made it back okay? [You]: you looked like you were floating

She groans, punches her pillow a little, and then types back:

[Ellie]: i was not floating [Ellie]: i am very grounded. like a normal person. a grounded, non-floating person who is extremely chill and not thinking about your lips at all.

Immediate regret.

She throws the phone face down on the bed.

The cat meows. “I panicked, okay?”

Buzz.

[You]: you’re so dumb. i’m smiling so hard it hurts [You]: love you, loser. goodnight.

Ellie clutches her phone to her chest and lets out a long, dreamy “fuck.”

Then she whispers it again, grinning “She loves me.”

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Ain't That a Kick in the Head?

HAPPY (belated) DBDANNIVERSARY! I started this little thing a few months ago when I realised A) just HOW tiny that office sofa at the centre of soooo many Payneland smut fics is, and B) that Edwin was lounging on it with the back cushions at the ends. I dusted it off and wanted to get it finished for the anniversary but for various life reasons, my writing brain was not braining! Fingers crossed, I have a little more free time for projects now! Payneland, 2.3k, T, fun getting-together fluff, also on Ao3 (only visible to logged-in users)!

“Edwin?”

“Charles.”

Charles hummed, spinning his vintage football on his finger. Wasn't vintage when he got it, mind. But twenty-odd years being bandied about the same pokey office had made an antique of the old girl. “Been thinking ‘bout what Crystal said. About the sofa…”

Edwin gave him a look of mild betrayal over his book. “Oh, Charles. Not you as well.”

“Well, got a point, hasn't she? I mean —” Charles gestured broadly down to his knees — which were propped up against Edwin's knees. When they sat like this, cross legged and facing one another, they sort of met in the middle. “Barely room for one of us, mate! Not the best place for a living person to kip when she misses the last tube, is it?”

“Then we shall acquire a trundle bed. Or one of those —” he waved his hand — “newfangled inflatable mattresses. I hardly see the need to cast the entire office into disarray.”

“Not exactly a big redecorate, is it?” Charles teased, nudging Edwin's knee with his own. “One little sofa. Well, big sofa, hopefully. Bigger than this one. Maybe a bit softer, bit less, y’know... ancient.”

Edwin made an offended sound through his nose. “Charles! This sofa has been a stalwart of the agency since its inception!”

“Only 'cause the landlady let us have it with the flat,” said Charles.

“It has a history! Stories to tell.”

“You know Madam Seine was like, a madam madam, yeah?” said Charles, waggling his eyebrows for emphasis. “Ran a brothel out of this place when she was alive. Reckon some of those stories are pret-ty raunchy, mate.”

Edwin pursed his lips and fidgeted. “Well. Be that as it may. You cannot simply — simply oust something for being a bit worse for wear and... and a bit old fashioned.” He sniffed haughtily. “It is bad form. Dreadfully disloyal.”

Charles softened. He bit his lip. “That right?”

“Yes.” Edwin primly turned the page in his book. “I shall hear no more of it.”

Charles sighed, rolling his shoulders back against his cushion. They never sat with the back cushions on properly, these days. In the first five years or so yeah, maybe. But not for ages. Nowadays they took the back cushions and propped them at the sides, against the curved armrests, so's they could face each other from opposite ends of the sofa.

Charles wasn't sure exactly when they started doing it, or when it stopped being a one-off and started being the norm. But it just made more sense really, didn't it? They didn't have a telly to point the couch at, weren't ever watching something else when they sat side by side, so what was the point in looking at anything but one another? It was better to be facing each other when they were chatting, telling stories long into the night. Better for hatching plans and theories. Better for playing games, for cards and catch and crosswords and cat's cradle. Even if they were both doing their own thing, like now, Edwin with his books and Charles with his ball games, there was something dead nice about doing it with the other in the background.

But it was a tight fit. One of them alone didn't have room to stretch his legs out on this thing — the two of them? This was the least amount of contact they could have, both their legs crossed and their kneecaps nuzzling. Sometimes they wound up tangled at the shin, or the knee or even the bloody thigh, both too long in the leg and too lax in the boundaries to give a toss.

Lately though, well, what with Edwin telling him what he had on the steps to Hell, Charles had been thinking...

“Reckoned you might like a bit more personal space, too, is all,” Charles mumbled, picking at a flake on the worn leather.

Edwin frowned at him, bewildered. “This amount has been perfectly adequate for the last two decades.”

“Yeah, but it's a bit different now, innit?”

“How so?”

Charles opened his mouth, then closed it. What was he supposed to say? Because you're in love with me now? Because I've not been able to stop thinking about your bloody knees touching mine for the last two hours and if that's me, just in like a mates way, you must be going bonkers? All sounded a bit bloody dickish, didn't it? “Just is.”

Edwin stiffened. “Oh.” He closed his book. He looked... upset. “I see.”

“What?”

“I did not wish to make you uncomfortable.”

Charles balked. “You didn't — Christ, I didn't mean it like that!”

“Well then enlighten me, Charles, because I fail to see how else you could have meant it.”

“I meant — it's not me, it's you!”

Edwin's eyebrows pinched together in helpless bafflement. “What a... uniquely distressing platitude.”

“I mean…” Charles sighed, rubbing his forehead. God, he was mucking this all up. “I'm just saying if it's a bit... I don't wanna make you uncomfortable, yeah? Or — or make you feel like I'm... I dunno. Rubbing it in.”

Edwin's eyebrows over the course of the awkward explanation crawled progressively higher, like they were backing up very slowly to his hairline. “‘Rubbing it in’?” He parroted, disbelieving.

Charles groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “Shut up. Fuck. Trying not to be a dickhead, here.”

He heard a sound, a soft huff of air, and peeked through his fingers. Edwin was smiling — no, Edwin was laughing. Small and restrained, but a definite laugh. He closed his book.

“Charles,” he said — the word all warm on his tongue. “While I appreciate your thoughtfulness, I am perfectly capable of managing my more... inconvenient feelings for you when we are spending time together.”

Charles snorted, scrubbing his eye with the heel of his hand. “Are you, now?”

“Yes. Though it is certainly a struggle; reigning in my amorous inclinations when faced with the irresistible temptation of…” he glanced down, smirking. “Your knees.”

Charles mock gasped. “Oi! My knees are fit.” He leaned in closer, making their kneecaps nudge. “Eh? Eh?”

Edwin raised his eyebrows and, deliberately, picked up his own knees and planted his feet flat on the sofa. “If your master plan is to persuade me to part with a perfectly serviceable sofa via knee seduction, I am afraid you'll not find me so easily swayed. Regardless of the relative 'fitness' of the knees in question.”

“Got my number, haven't you,” Charles grinned. He cracked his neck and sat up a bit straighter, propping his elbow on his thigh. “Alright then. New deal: thumb war.”

Edwin groaned. “Oh, honestly…”

“Winner gets final say on the couch. Deal?”

“Charles, we have not had a thumb war since the great poster debacle of ninety eight. We both agreed the fallout was too great.” He looked off past Charles’ shoulder, soberly, looking a dead ringer for a poor shellshocked world war one lad in a black and white army hospital photo. “And that is to say nothing of the collateral damage…”

“Just a one-off yeah? Friendly competition. Peace treaty goes right back into effect afterwards.”

Edwin gave him a look, but he sighed and set aside his book. “Very well.” He scooted a bit closer, straightening his pullover with a brisk tug. “But I thrashed you in ninety eight and I have every intention of doing so again.”

“Them's fighting words, lad,” Charles laughed, face warm, pleasant, bubbly anticipation in his gut. Something about Edwin getting physical, getting competitive always made his stomach flip. Just nice, wasn't it? Seeing his uptight best mate cut loose. “You're bloody on. C'mon then. Put 'em up.”

Edwin positioned his elbow, flexing his long fingers — regarding Charles with a self-assured quirk of his lip. “Queensberry Rules. No funny business.”

They locked hands, fingers in palms, thumbs bared. Did the business, back and forth, voices chiming in perfect polite unison “One, two, three, four, I declare thumb war —” and then let each other fuckin’ have it.

“Bloody hell,” Charles huffed, straining. “You been doing thumb push ups or summit?”

“Well, they do say the pen is mightier than the sword,” Edwin hummed, all nonchalant — but Charles could see the strain under the cool expression, see the tic in his jaw as he gave everything he had.

Charles grit his teeth, snatching his thumb back. Usually his tactic was brute force, get in there quick and wrestle Edwin down, but the cheeky sod was quick, and stronger than Charles gave him credit for. Their thumbs dodged and weaved, a tangle of near misses; Charles had a feeling all Edwin needed was one bang-on strike and he'd have Charles on the ropes.

He risked a glance up — and found Edwin staring at his face. “Oh, you're wrestling me without looking now?” Charles snorted. “Show off. A-ha! Gotcha!” He got his thumb hooked firmly over Edwin's, pushing down, so close to victory he could taste it.

And then he got a taste of something else.

Edwin's lips were gone almost before Charles felt them — but bloody hell, he felt them, alright. Quick as a flash and twice as blinding; Charles could've fallen through the sofa, the floor, six bloody storeys like a stone through a pond. He blinked, thunderstruck, mouth flopping like a fish.

Edwin cleared his throat and, politely, pushed Charles’ unresisting thumb down.

“And three, two, one… there. I believe victory is mine. Oh dear, what a shame, no new sofa for us. Still, I am sure we shall soldier on somehow. Now, if you will excuse me.”

He was all prim about it, brisk, proper stiff upper lip — boarding school lad leapt right out. But Charles made a grab for his knee before Edwin could unfold himself from the sofa and scarper.

“Yeah, just a tick, mate,” said Charles, a bit strangled. “Um.”

Edwin fidgeted on the spot. Well, he unsteepled and resteepled his fingers a couple of times. “Yes, I... I do apologise. I am not quite sure what came over me. You were sitting very close, and... it is. Inexcusable. Perhaps you are right after all. Perhaps it is for the best that we —”

Charles kissed him.

He could taste Edwin's little hitching breath on his lips, along with the fizzling, ectoplasmic energy of him. Christ, how could anyone walk through him and find a cold spot; he was so warm, a cosy log fire Charles just wanted to curl up against. His knees, still pressed against Charles', smoldered like hot coals and Charles wanted to touch him more, touch him everywhere, see what it felt like when they overlapped at the shin or the thigh or even —

Charles pulled back with a gasp of surprise. “Fuck,” he blurted, steadying himself on Edwin's knees as the realisation clipped him round the ear. “I proper fancy you!”

It was Edwin's turn to flop like a fish. “I... do… are you quite sure?”

Charles laughed. Couldn't help himself. He clapped his hands either side of Edwin's neck, thumbs tucked behind his ears — had he always had such cute ears? Where had Charles been? — and just sort of looked at him a moment. His best mate had one of the best faces out there. Charles wanted to smooth out the little confused scrunch of his bushy eyebrows with his thumb. Count the colours in those clever eyes; lean in and catch those soft, pink lips.

"Kiss me again,” he mumbled, leaning in close. "And I'll show you how sure I am, yeah?”

And Edwin, well, turned out he didn't need telling twice.

~

Probably shouldn't be that simple, should it? Flipping the switch from Edwin’s best mate to barmy about him. But the fancying Edwin thing, that had been the tricky bit. The bit Charles hadn't been sure he could do, or do enough.

The loving him bit? He'd been doing that for ages.

~

“Well that was… an unexpected conclusion.”

Charles grinned, dopily, at the ceiling. There was a crack in it they should probably do something about sometime, but that didn’t matter ‘cause the view seemed pretty brills to him, sprawled as much as a tall lad could sprawl on their tiny little sofa — and Edwin sprawled right alongside. And slightly on top of. “Bit better than collateral damage, eh?”

He could feel Edwin’s smile against his neck. “Considerably better, I’d venture. I might even be open to re-negotiating our treaty if we now have… alternative avenues of conflict resolution.”

Charles chuckled. Their legs looked proper daft, draped over the end of the tiny couch, feet all tangled up in the air. They really needed a bigger one, now they had so much more stuff they could be getting up to on it. “Right, then. About that. Is it a good time to point out you did sort of just cheat, yet?”

Edwin sighed. He didn’t have a leg to stand on and he knew it — those bloody lips of his were weapons of mass distraction and he’d hit Charles with both barrels. “Very well. I concede defeat.”

“Proper decent of you, mate, cheers. Brills! New sofa, then?”

Edwin hummed, twirling Charles’ necklace once around his finger. “Very well,” he said — with the same dangerous nonchalance he usually had when he was about to whip out a piece of evidence that'd nail their suspect to the bloody wall. “Dispose of the sofa on which we shared our first kiss, if it pleases you to do so. I shan’t protest.”

“... Oh, you bastard,” Charles laughed, tangling his hand in Edwin’s messed up hair — so bloody help him, he was about to get it even messier. “Kiss me again, you evil genius.”

And oh, he kissed him again. And again, and again. And their socked feet bobbed high and stupid over the arm of their too-tiny little sofa the whole time.

…Modern airbeds were probably pretty decent these days anyway, right? ~~~

This one felt a bit weird to write honestly, it feels very much like the sort of lighthearted, sweet Payneland one-shots I was writing in my early days of the fandom, which just isn't my specialty anymore! But it was a fun little trip down memory lane 🥰 So, what's next for Mr. Bees in DBDA fandom year 2? Well, obviously I have some fics to finish -- Lonely Bones got backburner'd but I WILL get my head down and get the last chapter out eventually (and thank you so much if you've left a comment there I haven't replied to, I'm at the stage now where I find myself saving comments for when I actually have something new to add to the story 😅). Ditto with Somewhere Beyond the Sea, although there's a fair bit more of that to go yet! Chapter two is almost there but needs One more quite big scene because I moved the chapter break. Apologies for the long hiatuses on both of these, but as usual, I've bitten off more than I can chew and I find myself really only able to focus on a max of two big projects at a time! Two things you may see first: -the Ghostcat Howl's Moving Castle AU, which I have been working on for months with dear_monday and two_ravens (and idliketobeatree who is doing the most INCREDIBLE art!!) and is now in the edit stage: it's long, it's FUN, it's magical and romantic and playful, and we have had such an UNBELIEVABLY fun time writing it and can't wait to share it! Even if poly ships aren't normally your thing, if you have any enjoyment whatsoever for Catwin/Catland/Payneland I hope you'll take a crack at it, because it's gonna be a blast! -my Big Bang fic! Which, actually, will not be posted on this account, because it WILL contain explicit scenes! It's long, it's Payneland, it's tender and sensual and also the most tragic and bittersweet thing I have ever written, and if you want to read that when it comes out and you don't already know my secret-not-secret smut side handle, feel free to DM me for it! (but only if you're 18+, please and thank you!) I also may, for the sake of ease of finding because stuff does get lost on tumblr, think about making a work on here to post some of my DBDA art from the last year and into the future, because turns out I've made a LOT of it! I have other fics, long and short, that I really wanna get to at some point, but we're very much out of the initially hyper-productivity stage and into the slow, simmering-the-idea-on-the-stovetop phase of my fandom experience. I look calm and quiet but my little legs are working under the surface! I may post less frequently now but I certainly hope to be posting for a long time to come 💛 Well, that's all I can think to say for now so once again, thank you, everyone's who's read along, everyone's who's talked to me either here or on tumblr or in the groupchats, everyone's who's also created such wonderful stuff and made this fandom such a thriving creative hub, I love and appreciate all of you and I hope we'll all be sat on this porch for a long, long time together 💛💛💛 Until next time!

[olderthannetfic]

Saw a monetized fanart vs fanfic discussion out in the wild again and it reminded me of this theory I had. It wasn't that fandom artists were given a pass to monetize in a way that fandom writers weren't, it's that professional (and pro-to-be) artists co-opted fandom communities a few years back.

I used to aim for a studio-based illustration career, so I kept up to date on community discussions, watched every free "lesson" I could, made plans to build up a portfolio, etc. The amount of times I heard pro artists (employed at Disney, Sony, AAA studios, etc.) say that nowadays it's a good idea to include fanart in your portfolio was shocking at first, but genuinely everybody that was anybody was saying it. And of course it was another way to game the social media algorithm. I've listened to artists talk seriously about posting fanart to "bait" an audience into following them, intersperse it with original work, then post fanart again to keep people's attention. It was an entire thing.

And then of course you got the success stories. "I posted fanart of Miles Morales that got 100k likes on insta, and then I got a job offer to work on the next Spiderverse movie." In fact, people knew that art directors/hiring managers/whoever sends out the emails regularly browse their IP tags online for fanart AND in-person conventions to look for the next possible hire. Yes, even if they also periodically send cease and desists. I heard a funny story of a guy that got a takedown notice AND a job offer from the same company on the same day.

Obviously not every fan artist is doing this for the exact same reasons, and tbh there's a lot of artists coming up now that arrived at an art scene that to them has always been like this, so they just kind of do the same motions their art idols are doing without thinking to deeply about the why. I think the actual big shift happened when we all got blended together in the same social media sites, and the pro artists (that used to be VEHEMENTLY anti-fanart btw, I forgot to mention that) noticed the kind of reach and networking power appealing to an active and passionate community brought them. I could go on, but that's my main thought. Thanks for the soapbox lol.

--

My knowledge of fan art history is spotty compared to what I know about fic or vids because I've usually avoided the big art hangouts like DeviantArt due to not liking the culture.

What I do know is that there have been a number of these shifts, and there are a bunch of different factors contributing to this cultural divide. I've been told, for example, that a lot of Marvel and DC artists from decades ago paid the bills by selling other art of the characters that wasn't part of their official jobs (prints of portraits of a character they also drew for comics, etc.). It was a consequence of their shitty pay from the actual comics companies, and so the companies generally turned a blind eye.

There was also a pretty permeable membrane between pro sff artists of ye olde con culture and amateur ones, just like writers and others at those cons weren't really separate. The biggest pro name and the newest nobody were distinct, but it's more of a sliding scale between those than separate categories.

The chance to go viral in a way that Hollywood types can see on twitter/instagram/tiktok/etc. has definitely had a massive cultural impact though, and I doubt it's often a positive one.

[thefreakpanda]

Someone reblogged a post that said :

‘throwing a fit everytime feyre's validly upset or mean to someone in the slightest but praising nest@ for being downright cruel at almost every turn (sometimes for no reason at all) is truly mind boggling to me’

Certain someone has been unfollowed.

Nesta being ‘cruel’ literally never happens. Mean, sure. But some of you need to open a dictionary and find what cruel actually means. Nesta’s mean moments and comments have been provoked 99% of the time. No one respects her or her boundaries.

Feyre, on the other hand, is arrogant and selfish and a lot of readers fail to see it. She gets mad at people, more specifically Nesta, because she doesn’t get what she wants.

Feyre has been neglected by her mother, yes absolutely. But when we look at her relationship with her father and the way she acts today, I have a theory that her childhood wasn’t just neglectful. It was actually permissive !

She was allowed to ask questions about business. She never had the pressure to marry. She could play outside as much as she wanted. If her sisters had tutors, then so did she.

Because if think about it, there is no reason why an 11 year old couldn’t read, when she was still wealthy at the time. Feyre probably didn’t want to attend those lessons and was allowed not to.

And all of that is translated in her behavior today. No one tells Feyre no, even her father gets brushed off when he does. She always gets her way and does whatever she wants. And since she is now mated to someone who acts like the world revolves around her, it’s not going to change.

When you really look at it, the only person who’s ever told her no without repercussions is Elain. Because Elain was just as spoiled and she says no, it means no.

Then we have Nesta. And when Nesta says no, it’s no… for now. Deep down, Feyre knows it. That’s why she pushes her sister and fights with her so much.

Everyone has to live according to Feyre’s needs and desires. Rhys even orders them to.

Nesta just has to bend to the rules.

It’s ‘you’re my sister’ when it comes to getting Nesta to move into Feyre’s house or coming to Solstice. But it’s never ‘she’s my sister’ to the friends who keep insulting and even threatening Nesta in front of Feyre. And what does that say about Feyre as a sister?

It’s all the noticing Mor and Cassian’s weird relationship. Witnessing first hand them exchanging underwear in front of Nesta and ignoring it and then forcing Nesta to live with a man she clearly said she wanted nothing to do with. Something Feyre would never force Elain to do.

And while I’m on it. How about Lucien too? Feyre is so self-centered, she doesn’t even notice that Lucien before UTM and after are two different people. That he is traumatized. But in ACOMAF she was all ‘boo-hoo’ you gave up on me.

Lucien helped her during her first trial and got whipped for it. Still, he risked his life coming to her cell and she had the audacity to complain he was late. To put the blame for the bargain SHE accepted on him. And then he was used as bait for the second trial.

He tried to talking ti Tamlin and he brought Feyre to one of the villages where she noticed first hand that people didn’t want her help.

But if it doesn’t fit her rhetoric, then she points the finger at others. And that makes her validly upset?

She drags Lucien around like a pet and he also gets bullied by the NC while she says nothing and enjoys the show.

I suppose that’s the thing with 1st person pov, readers gets fooled by one person’s opinion and don’t look at the bigger picture.

Nesta was downright cruel? Based on which part of the book? Apart from the ones where Feyre or Cassian make assumptions about her that she proved wrong over and over again.

Cruel to who ?

Rhysand ? He’s the one who has repeatedly threatened her and the worst she said about him was that he was an arrogant and preening asshole.

Morrigan ? She’s the one who threatened Nesta for merely asking where Cassian was. Who brushed her off when she tried to visit his tent. Who told her she would have chosen to dump her in the human lands. All while Nesta just stood/sat there not responding.

Amren? You want to talk about cruelty, point the finger at the Night Court’s second. For how she speaks not only to Nesta, but to everyone else.

Cassian? She was never mean enough. And canonically, Nesta had only ever reduced him to his birth in a bonus chapter from book 2. You want to know what happens canonically? Cassian pushes her boudaries, insults her at times and she ignores him, gives him a look or even leaves the room. And then he assumes what she is thinking which, after reading her point of view you’d know, he is always very wrong about. What happens canonically is Cassian getting mad at Nesta because he feels entitled to her because of a stupid mating bond.

As for Elain and Feyre, THEY made Nesta’s trauma about themselves. They decided to act in a way that wasn’t helpful to Nesta but to them.

They had to ask themselves whether or not to help Nesta at the end of ACOWAR (Feyre was no, btw). They chose to be mad at her for not coming around the house more often, not coming to dinner (Elain didn’t attend any dinners until after the war) but not seeing that Nesta only agreed/ wanted to see them and not the IC (valid reasons listed above).

Feyre thought that Nesta saying she was at taverns for the music was an excuse. Elain didn’t think to mention Nesta’s passion for dancing until a year and a half after she’d begun destroying herself. Feyre said she’d forgotten about this (because once again, it does nothing for her so why would she remember).

Just like she forgot about her sister’s fear of baths. Just like she forgot Nesta was the one who tried to rescue her but still commented that her sister would only cross the wall for Elain.

Feyre crying upon hearing the bill was heartbreaking, sure. No one wants to hear about someone you love destroying themselves. But she is at fault for a lot of things and this post is already long enough.

Nesta gets mad at people who are disrespectful to her. Feyre gets mad at people for not doing what she wants. That’s the difference, sweetheart !

[siriuslyobsessedwithfiction]

A study in Henry and Francis

Henry is especially gifted. His great memory, mastering many languages and the ability to translate ancient works of literature just because he feels like it shows great intelligence that could take him much farther in life, but he is simply not interested. If you ask me, he was on autism spectrum but that's another conversation. While I don't think Francis' intelligence was quite on the same level as Henry's, I think he did have more potential but like the rest of the Greek class, didn't care as much about the ancient languages as Henry did.

However, Francis has the cunningness that Henry simply does not possess. Some consider Henry an evil mastermind for orchestrating a murder while others make fun of his methods, but if we really judge from apart the narrative, Henry is acting like a child who cannot fully comprehend what killing someone means. He considers different, elaborate, over the top, needless theories for killing and escaping. I mean, running away in Argentina, really? Henry is exceptionally well-read and it seems that the only thing he took from that are the acts, not the meaning. He still does not have his own understanding of the meaning of life. No wonder he cracks on Bunny's funeral. He also thinks that he can solve every problem, get away with anything, because he has considered how things would work out in theory based on what he has read, but he doesn't have much experience in real life, so he falters at difficulties, such as Julian abandoning him, Charles turning on him, his own conflicting feelings, the snow covering up Bunny's body, etc. I also don't think Henry was a good, or even an ill-intentioned manipulator. He has a simplistic, childish view on friendships as well. He considers the Greek class his friends: he pays for stuff, solves problems when they panic, so he expects the same kind of help in return without any unnecessary questions. Same with Richard. Henry helped him, offered him friendship and inclusion, then expected him to help him since he was included now.

Meanwhile, Francis is more savvy. The whole Greek class is detached from the real world and has an askew view on morality, yes, but Francis, unlike Henry, knows exactly how to use people. His dramatics often make us forget that he is perfectly able to figure out how to make things happen when he wants to. He knows how to poke Richard, knows what to ask of him. And with Charles? He got him alone and tried to have an intercourse with him, he also saw his drinking problem and tempted him with alcohol in exchange of sexual acts or had sex with him when he was drunk. That is using people in one of the most vile ways.

Hopefully, someday I shall articulate this in a better manner.

[jadeazora]

Since I did one for League members/Trial Captains/Gym Leaders and the villains, here are the rivals!

I feel like Silver has potentially considered it in regards to Giovanni. His father's organization has hurt people and killed Pokemon, and who knows what harm his father has personally caused (Giovanni did threaten the employees of the Silph President in LGPE that they'd taken hostage), and what must be done in order to stop him. That said, I don't think he could really ever go thru with it. He doesn't want to stoop to that level. Anyone else, it would just be beating the crap outta them.

N wouldn't harm anyone physically, but was willing to inflict emotional harm in BW in regards to getting Trainers like the player to release their Pokemon. (Tho he dropped that when he learned that Ghetsis had been using him and that he had been misled.)

Bede and Hugh have canonically thrown hands, Hugh with actual adults. Klara and Carmine have at least threatened to.

Due to the Higurashi vibes Kieran was giving off in the first part of the DLC, I was kinda worried he might try to kill us. (That said, I had bought into the Toxic Chain corruption theory with him. He was seriously creeping me out later on in the Teal Mask.)

Trevor's where he is because of how he blasted Lysandre straight in the face with a Solarbeam in the manga, mid-freaking out:

As an aside to Lysandre tho, there's unverified rumors/leaks saying Urbain/Taunie are related to him, so I'm curious to see where they would fit in this if that turns out to be true. 😅

[legalandnotease]

Its always struck me as a weird coincidence that so many people who Tony Stark didn't like or had a beef with were snapped. It seems almost diproportionate, how many of his enemies or rivals conveniently got dusted whilst those closest to him survived.

The notable examples: Hank Pym, along with his wife and daughter. Pym famously hated all Stark. What's also interesting about Pym is than given his knowledge of Quantam physics, he could have cracked time travel had he not been dusted mere days after creating the Quantam Tunnel and discovering time travel existed.

other notable examples: T. Ross (no great loss to the world), T'Challa and Shuri, Bucky Barnes, Wanda Maximoff, Sam Wilson, and Clint Barton's family. (Tony made no secret of how jealous he was of Clint in Age of Ultron.) Not forgetting Nick Fury who Tony never really got on with.

Then the thought kind of struck me: the Stones can be influenced by will power. We know this. Well, it turns out Tony was one the last people to touch the Gauntlet and the Stones before Thanos snapped in Infinity War. Steve also touched it in the Battle of Wakanda (in fact I think he canonically was the last person to do so...) but Tony was like second to last or a few down from that.

So here's my theory: at some point, probably in space when wallowing in resentment or bitterness Stark began to fantasize about who he'd get rid of if he had The Stones. He later touched the Gauntlet when trying to fight off Thanos.

Maybe the Stones sensed his thoughts so that when Thanos snapped mere hours (days?) later, the Stones picked some of those people be dusted. Yes, I think Tony influenced who was snapped, albeit unwittingly.

That's why its important that Bruce/Smart Hulk was the person who reversed the Snap- because he didn't have the baggage that Tony did. Tony could have somehow, with his lingering resentments against certain individuals have influenced the stones so that those people weren't bought back.

[see-arcane]

Think a fun Hellsing AU could be one that has Dracula be swapped out with Carmilla (and presumably by extension the Vordenbergs in the place of the Helsings).

Assuming we actually bother to consider the characterization of the Countess in the novella, how do you think she'd handle getting the Alucard treatment (basically enslaved and turned into a weapon against other vampires)?

If we follow the theory that she really was beholden to her vampire crew and/or her ‘mother’ in the novella, I think she’d chafe against having her own bloodline-based occult collar from the Hellsingified Vordenburgs much more. Unless it involved a Laura-adjacent Integra replacement 👀

Also: ELDRITCH CAT FORMS INSTEAD OF ELDRITCH CANINE FORMS

[asaka-lucy-hl]

Today, I finished my first playthrough (the first 100 days), and here are my impressions so far:

⚠️ This post contains major spoilers. Please read only if you have completed the first 100 days.

First of all, I want to make it clear that I am genuinely enjoying this game. In an interview, Kodaka and Uchikoshi mentioned that one playthrough would take about 20 hours, but for me, it took over 30 hours. So, I feel like I played very carefully and thoroughly. I made sure to check the characters' reactions as the story progressed, and I worked hard to strengthen and explore with each character as much as possible. Even now, I haven't gotten even slightly "tired" of the training elements, and I'm still having a lot of fun.

However, if someone asked me, "Would you recommend this game to your friends?" my honest answer would be, "It's complicated."

Before playing, I had already read several interviews where it was mentioned that the ending of the first 100 days would be "rather unsatisfying," so I was somewhat prepared for a conclusion that left a lot of mysteries unresolved. Still, even expecting it, the length of this "being left hanging" state was tougher than I thought.

In particular, it was frustrating how long it took for Eito's obviously suspicious behavior to be properly addressed in the story. After playing the demo, I watched a lot of playthrough videos and read (and even wrote) various theories. So maybe I was one of the first to be convinced that Eito was suspicious compared to others, but even for someone who wasn't, I think by the middle of the game most people would start to suspect that Eito had some kind of hidden agenda.

In my case, I realized he was lying during the conversation with Hiruko on Day 15. (I didn't check properly, so I apologize if the date is wrong. It was when Eito comes to Takumi's room and tells him that he's worried about what Hiruko said! What he says Hiruko said is slightly different from what Hiruko actually said). From that point on, even though I didn’t know his exact goal, I was convinced he was deliberately putting Takumi and the others at a disadvantage. So I honestly expected that there would be a development by Day 60 at the latest, where Takumi or the others would start to suspect Eito as well. But in reality, that issue wasn't brought up until much, much later - which made me feel a growing disconnect between my feelings and the progression of the story.

On top of that, when the truth behind Eito's actions was finally revealed, I was disappointed by how poorly thought out his plan was. Even if he turned out to be a traitor, I thought that could still add to his charm, depending on his goal or motive for doing such a thing. But regardless of his beliefs, I really wanted him to be portrayed as a very smart person.

The biggest letdown for me was learning that, when Eito killed SIREI, he had simply "underestimated" the bomb planted inside his body. In my opinion, since he wasn’t in such a rush, he should have done a proper investigation first — checking whether there were backup units for SIREI, or if there were alarms in case of malfunction, and so on — before making his move. I thought that Eito might be a spy for a third party, so to find out that he acted alone was very surprising - and frankly made me wonder why he would rush into such a reckless plan without fully understanding the situation.

I hope the second playthrough will provide better answers to these questions, but still, the fact that I ended up with this kind of impression after about 30 hours of play makes me a little hesitant about recommending the game to others, even though I know there's clearly more story to come.

Of course, I do think it’s possible that this strong sense of dissatisfaction is something the developers intentionally wanted to create. That said, there were moments where the "waiting" felt less like deliberate tension building and more like the story was just being dragged out. For those reasons, I still find it hard to wholeheartedly recommend the game.

By the way, in my second playthrough, I chose the route where Takumi kills Eito in the first choice. However, I really miss him when I play the SRPG part! 😭💔 He was one of my favorite combat units in terms of strength and attack methods. I'm sure there are routes where he really forms a friendship with Takumi, so I'm looking forward to seeing that and getting to know him better. Well, that's why I think it was probably the right decision to choose this route first. I'll go along the route where he won't be for a while, gather information, and then try to choose the option that doesn't involve killing Eito.

Anyway, those are my honest thoughts after finishing the first 100 days. But to be honest, I expected to feel that way to some extent, because Kodaka said several times that people's impressions of the game would vary greatly for a while after its release.

I’m excited to see how my feelings about the game will change from here! (Just to be clear, while I do find it hard to recommend the game to others, I myself am definitely enjoying it.) I’ll post another update once I’ve made some more progress.

Thanks for reading! 💖

[eloquentornot]

I interpreted the twirl as somehow everyone flinching meant they all blinked and just barely avoided seeing it so it didn't have to kill them but she would have had to have been startling on purpose to risk that or maybe she was in denial and hoping it wasn't behind her at that point or maybe she closed her eyes so it could hide in front of her for the brief moment she had her back turned or maybe it was the whole thing of needing someone precisely 180 degrees away for anyone to be relatively behind her before it did something but yeah either way if she knew there was something that killed anyone who went directly behind anyone then it was really reckless to spin around like that at the very least...

She couldn't exactly back up against a wall when she was standing in the middle of a massive room with the threat of being shot if she moved too much.

She's deaf. If she seemed to have a muted reaction to a scream, maybe that's because she didn't hear it and was just reacting to the faces of the people in front of her?

I'm pretty sure the people almost completely behind her were outside her field of view long before they got yeeted, or did you mean that to be like it would only be possible for them to be flung when she wasn't choosing to spin around etc?

I LOVE the idea that it wasn't even specifically 180 degrees until Belinda pointed that out, adds to how the entity tricked the Doctor in the end because these aren't real rules like with the pantheon! (Side note I'm not 100% convinced the pantheon does follow the rules like the Doctor thinks they do, after all he thought Lux had to reveal his weakness and also didn't accept the riddle as an answer, but Lux didn't have to give a real answer after that...)

Also it is interesting that it only seemed to kill once the victim was hidden behind Aliss, seems like it was meant to be that it can still be hiding as long as there's an angle not covered so once two people are seeing all of Aliss, the one behind her can see the creature, and when its seen, it kills... but if it's that hidden, how much of a body does it have, or...? (Sort of reminds me of Listen, too, I think I remember theories that those things were related to the Midnight entity at one point maybe? Or maybe not, I also remember thinking that the Doctor had already encountered creatures perfect at hiding, the Silence, they hide from your memories, lol! But if they really were just being paranoid and it was a kid messing around in the bedroom, then with Orson at the end of the universe it was the Midnight entity or some other immortal thing... now that the entity has left Midnight, maybe that's where it eventually ends up? Or maybe the listeners are real, and the Midnight entity is the only one of them that decided to turn evil or something? It's been too long since I watched Listen I can't remember the details lol)

"You're contaminated" did remind me of "you are diseased" yeah...

I'm not entirely sure on Aliss being a bad guy, but it really does seem like she was the one who broke the mirrors, and more recently than the fights with the wound...

I love your theories!

If Aliss has been alone for 15 days, then she shouldn't still have an unhealed scratch on her arm from when she fell and scraped it in the chaos. Self harm? (And more mirroring?)

The captain was 14 when she left home and joined the forces. Ruby's biomom was 15 when she had her. I assume we're framing the 1st Doctor as a teen (grand)parent by association

Belinda and Mo are casually chatting in front of Aliss without their screens on. We get a shot of Aliss looking anxiously back and forth between them, struggling to read their lips in profile. When Belinda finally looks at Aliss to include her in the conversation ("Have you ever heard of-"), that's when the entity appears for the first time. As some sort of symbol of her resentment/sense of exclusion?

Aliss jumps up, says "Look at me! I'm all clean!" and does a 360 twirl. The soliders flinch and raise their guns, but nothing happens. Does this indicate she has some level of control over the flinging-people power? Or at least that she knows exactly how long someone can be behind her back before it kicks in?

It seems like there might be a pattern where people catch glimpses of the entity at the moments where Aliss's irritation or anger bleeds through? She's definitely putting on a performance of not knowing what happened/what's on her back, and she seems to be playing up the "I just want to go home" thing at least a little for sympathy. Is one of the themes here the performance she has to give of the good, sympathetic, grateful disabled person, and the consequences when she lets her real frustrations show?

Pointed shot of Rogue's ring as the Doctor enhances the "we don't know what it is!" clip. This leads into his realization - "Oh, my old, old head!" Where did the radiation come from, he asks? The planet's star is burnt out, but it used to be an Xtonic star. The Doctor is a star, and a star that's collapsed = a "burnt out" time lord? I'm also reminded of the Psychedelic Sun that turned the Meep evil (another Master mirror).

The soldiers try to form a circle around Aliss to see what's behind her. She pleads with them to stop, but doesn't, say, back up against a wall. When asked "or what?" her face hardens.

Just as the first soldier steps behind her, Aliss grimaces a little, then winces at the scream. She's not thrilled about this, but she's not shocked or horrified either

"Don't go behind Aliss!" "Please don't turn your back on me!" The power kicks in when you enter the point in Aliss's field of vision where she absolutely can't see what you're doing or read your lips. Maybe this isn't some instrinsic "rule" of the entity...but the entity reacting to her emotions about people "going behind her back"? (The thing everyone keeps literally and metaphorically doing?)

"Something came out of the well, and now it's behind me. And they said it was laughing." This is more Master/untempered schism mirroring btw

Belinda is the one who lays out the points on a clock theory. Could Aliss and/or the entity have started following those rules based on her theory? (her narrative? her investment of meaning?) Is that why the 360 turn earlier didn't do anything?

Doomed Soldier Guy declares that they should kill the entity. It's possible that Aliss is so intertwined with the entity that you can't kill one without killing the other. When she says "because if you kill me, it goes behind you," is that a "rule"? Or an improvised self defense?

"And I met something so vile. It had no face. No name. No self." The Doctor has no (consistent) face, no ("real") name, no (fixed) self. Natch the Master. This is still about the Doctor hating what he sees in the mirror

"Clearly bodies have been broken by some kinetic force, manipulated either by Fenly, or by something in collusion with, or in control of her." Doomed Soldier Guy may be an idiot, but he's also right lol

"Either we disprove this story, or we meet the enemy." It's all about the story that's being crafted around these events, and proven or disproven

The power activates again not at the moment we see the volunteer step behind her, but at the moment we see Doomed Solider Guy step directly in front of Aliss. His pose suggests that he was going to shoot through her to get to the entity

The resulting massacre is edited chaotically enough that it's not always clear how people are getting behind her back (whether they moved there or she turned slightly), or even if they were directly behind her. This probably mirrors the characters' experience - they assume The Rule is being followed, but in all the chaos, how could they be sure? Then the captain tells Aliss to turn 180 - finally giving her "permission" to weaponize it against the guy who actually threatened her

"But...it's not my fault." "I know," the Doctor says. Aliss nods a little too eagerly, and her expression looks more like she's assessing whether he believes her

"I'm sorry. You're contaminated." "You are diseased," is what the Master got when the time lords refused to take him to safety with them. "But...my daughter!" Missy's daughter, the My Daughter Died And I Forgot arc, etc

The Doctor says "she's not leaving this planet. Not with that thing," and Aliss actually rolls her eyes mid sob. I think another element here is the idea that Aliss isn't neatly separable from her shadow self, her negative emotions, her willingness to kill if it's the only way out of here - but it's easier for the Doctor, if he can draw a hard line between the sympathetic victim and the monster

"Don't turn your back on me. Please don't turn your back on me." Apart from everything else, if that's not the Master @ the Doctor...

When the Doctor tries to address "the thing behind Aliss Fenly...my old friend," we keep getting shots of Aliss's confusion and then exasperation. Again, there's no neatly divisible thing behind me - you're talking to me. I am your friend.

"It knows my name." And the Doctor smiles as he cries. If the entity is a mirror - of Aliss, and now of the Doctor - then he's talking to himself. He's seeing what he wants to see: that the monster is still his old friend, still knows him more intimately than anyone else.

And that, of course, is when the Doctor realizes that "the way out" is to use a mirror

He switches from talking to Aliss to the thing behind her again - "you stone cold murderer" - and Aliss gives a wry smile.

"What if the thing behind you...is you?" YES. IT IS.

"It broke all the mirrors," so they assume mirrors are the Secret Kryptonite. Aliss broke all the mirrors. Days after the massacre. She still had the open wound from the mirror shards. She didn't want to look at herself.

Aliss smiles just before the "mirror" closes behind her. And then the kinetic force gives her a nice gentle shove forward into the Doctor's arms, so they can all run away together.

And as people have already noticed: Aliss mouths "thank you" to the Doctor from the airlock, her eyes are dead, the lights on her helmet are out, and the wrong number of people are on the monitor.

imo, I don't think this indicates Aliss was "just" possesed, or dead all along - anymore than the Master is.

There's a kinetic force blast just after Aliss leaves. This is the point where maybe another entity has made itself known? Or maybe Aliss just took one small piece of the entity with her, and the rest of it was still there? Or...as long as there's still someone left to look in the mirror (so to speak), a new entity can still be born from their reflection (give form to their shadow self, their darkest impulses)?

Mo is the first to insist that "It's not me." Belinda can hear the whispers, so they assume it's her...but the Doctor could hear the whispers from Aliss's shadow. The whispers were probably it trying to birth a new shadow from his psyche - that's how it knew his name. Belinda only heard Mo's shadow whispering.

(I think Mo's reaction shots in this scene also imply that she secretly suspects it's her, and she's staying quiet/letting Belinda take the fall out of fear)

And everything from that point on is pointless. They assume the answer is self harm - shooting Belinda, the captain killing herself. Aliss self harmed, and it didn't help. You can't carve your shadow self out of you, can't kill yourself into not having a dark side.

...Not that that's gonna stop the Doctor from trying 😜🤙

[hollyrogerbay]

anyone else notice how Deltarune seems to be getting more advanced each chapter, diegetically?

chapter 2 introduces the Recruits system, and updates save points to show all 3 slots in-game. chapter 1 was not retroactively updated to include the feature - it's an in-universe change. (although i believe chapter 1 npcs are automatically recruited once the system is introduced.)

and is it just me, or does it almost sound like the soundtrack is getting more advanced, too?

chapter 1's soundtrack was almost all soundfonts, chiptune, more retro synths, etc. - and the same goes for chapter 2, mostly. (mostly except for Susie, notably. her and her maybe-synth, maybe-live distorted guitars.)

we don't have much to work with, so this may not be anything worth mentioning, but the three songs for chapter 3-5 we've gotten sound noticeably more "real," i'd say?

"Hometown Day" is definitely the least notable of the three in terms of this, but still sounds relatively "realistic"/live

"My Funky Town" was what gave me this thought in the first place. the more live-sounding guitar in the left ear, something about the drums i can't quite describe accurately, the electric piano being played/recorded live. of course, it's not entirely "live" sounding, notably the saxophone being straight from the Touhou soundfont. but still much more than anything in chapter 1 and most in chapter 2.

"Green Room" is an odd case in general, considering it's pretty much just a remix of "Hip Shop," unlike any other song i can recall. but, yet again, it does sound a lot less "digital," would you agree? more effects on pretty much everything, the spacey drums and electirc pianos, everything.

this may not go anywhere, but i figured it was worth noting. the idea of chapters becoming more and more advanced as each one is added could also definitely be theory-crafting material methinks

[tio-trile]

Some of the photos I took of the cast and showrunners at the Chaos Theory panel yesterday : )

[turtleblogatlast]

[ cw: violence mention / death mention / ]

Will never stop thinking about how Leo, all alone in an endless void and being beaten again and again and again by the only other living thing around, still finds comfort in that space. The situation he was in was completely hopeless, and in any other circumstances he would not have escaped, at least not fast enough to save him from permanent (or even fatal) damage, be it physical or mental.

And yet, despite the bleakness of his situation, despite the agony and helplessness, all he needs is one glance at a crumbled photograph, one glance to remember his family, and that’s enough of a reason for him to smile.

Maybe that’s why his powers center around manipulating space - because no matter how much space is between them, no matter how dire his own situation may be, just the thought of his family, alive and okay, is enough to give Leo hope.

[giraffeiisms]

Stubborn might as well have been her middle fucking name.

From the day she was born, Ellie had learned how to fight—to stand tall against anything and everything like some beat-up, rusted metal door that just refused to break down. She hadn’t given in when she was chained alone in a room under the constant watch of a trigger-happy Firefly. She hadn’t given in when it would’ve been easier to.

Marlene, though—Marlene was the one voice Ellie didn’t fight. The Firefly leader had claimed to know her mom. Claimed to be there when she was born. Claimed to actually give a shit. Ellie had been so desperate for someone, anyone, to give her roots that she drank it all up like a dying plant in a rainstorm.

And Marlene promised something else too: that her immunity, her blood, could actually save people.

The Fireflies talked about a cure like it was real—bringing people back who hadn’t turned too far. It had sounded fake at first. Especially after Sam. God, after Sam. Ellie had tried. Had believed. And when he still turned, it cracked something deep inside her.

Maybe she hadn’t done it right. Maybe she just needed help. Maybe hope was still real.

That thought—the thin, flickering hope of it—was the only reason Ellie hadn’t given up yet.

Killing had been a theory for her at first. Something she was trained for, prepared for, but didn’t have to do... not really.

Not until Riley.

Even thinking her name felt like pressing down on an old, festering wound. One that would never, ever close.

With a bitter scoff, Ellie leaned back against the battered couch, arms folded tightly over her chest in a miserable, defiant kind of pout.

"I’ll give you four days of rest," she declared, stubborn to a fault, a cocky smirk twisting the corner of her mouth. "Take it or leave it."

It was a bluff. A weak one, too. She couldn’t leave without his help, and they both knew it. But goddamn it, if she couldn’t fight her own body, she was at least gonna fight him a little���for her own pride if nothing else.

Her leg throbbed just from shifting on the cushions, but she forced herself not to flinch. Not to show it.

"And while we’re making shit up," she continued, a sarcastic lilt dripping from her tone, "how exactly are you gonna take me to Wyoming, huh? You don’t know Joel. You don’t know Tommy. Hell, you don’t even know what either of them looks like."

She threw him a wide, exaggerated shrug, letting her head fall back against the couch dramatically.

"Whose to say we don’t get shot the second we open our mouths? ‘Hey, have you seen a middle-aged grump with a murder stare? We’re friends!’ Yeah, that’ll go over real smooth."

The sass was thick, layered over exhaustion, fear, and a pinch of desperation so strong it almost strangled her.

Because beneath it all... she needed to believe that someone, anyone, could still help her get where she needed to go.

[silvershewolf247]

My brain: So I have like 2 hour long things and then a 3 hour thing in a row tommorow and also a paper to finish. And I might want to get my car washed thoroughly. And it's a shower day. And I might have to use a public bathroom, but where do I leave my backpack, because I don't want to bring it in with me.

My body: Go the fuck to sleep, not sleeping won't make any of this easier.

[hellaverse-critical-confessions]

(from this video)