#but with a real physical puppet?

[hamenthotep]

Ray Harryhausen animating a skeleton at 120 fps

why would you say such a horrible thing

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

x

[prismsoup]

i kinda wanna give Spears a spoon full of peanut butter and see what he does with it (i'd get smacked smacked in the face probably)

bug behavior

[shorthaltsjester]

being a huge fan of tlou but also like. thinking that certain stories are built for certain mediums. like the entire theme of tlou2 is grounded and fresh because it’s a railroad/story video game that still affords you mechanical choices in how you navigate the world. i just don’t have a lot of confidence that presenting that story in a tv show with the minimal adjustments that they did in s1 will be fulfilling or compelling in any comparable way. because with tlou1 some of the like. beauty of that story was simply that it was such an emotive story contained in the medium of video games. and some of that was retained just by hitting similar or expanded emotional beats in the show, like the episodes that expanded on the life of the characters and the realities of that world. but truly so much of tlou2 emotional depth and ‘why does this story matter’ rests in the fact that’s it’s your hands on the controller, continually choosing to go forward in the story and have hope that it will work out in your-as-ellie-or-abby-or-somehow-booth’s favour. and you simply cannot get that in a non-interactive medium like television. like i do think tlou2 is a good story but it’s a good story because of the investment required by the player to keep pressing buttons and keep returning and to feel the adrenaline like responses of high intensity moments and be jarringly shifted into backstories that only increase the frustration. in general i’ve been thinking a lot about cross-medium adaptation and on the one hand i am glad that season 1 makes the story of the last of us more accessible to people who wouldn’t pick up a video game but it’s also like. maybe instead we can destigmatize video games as this inaccessible and dangerous medium a bit more instead of just . implicitly agreeing . like no maybe your mom won’t pick up a video game controller and play the last of us . but maybe you can play the game in the living room. sometimes the mediums that stories are told in aren’t just important but are actually foundational parts of how the information of a story is conveyed and that’s not only okay but is fucking fantastic. we should be happy actually that there are so many ways to collect a bunch of themes and ideas and put them together and hold them out to someone else and say “won’t you consider this with me. won’t you feel these emotions and care about these characters with me.”

[msnihilist]

Another headcanon for the Monday-verse I have is that, unlike our Doc and Drew, Doc and Drew Monday planned for Zak to be born with his powers.

...If only because I can't think of any other reason why the two of them would have had a child in the first place, especially not continue to keep him around despite the fact that they detest him.

[bleetusmcyeetus]

Tell me how the fuck I managed to dream up seemingly an entire ass EAPS episode in my dream last night 😭

[walkman-cat]

GOD.

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

max and wigfrid training headcanons beneath the cut bc im feeling a little silly w it

while wigfrid (seemingly) canonically makes it her mission to train all the survivors, i tend to focus on her training max for one specific reason (outside of the fact that the others are lame and have no theater kid swagger). max's fighting style, due to his use and reliance on puppets, is probably the most unique out of all of the survivors, and thus synergizes with wig's fighting style in a very unique way

to me, wigfrid's biggest 'flaw' when it comes to fighting is her dedication to it. and- though it is a flaw- in many cases it helps far more than it harms her. fighting activates a tunnel vision that completely hones her into her target. the extent of their stamina, their weak spots, their telegraphs. body language is as comparable as english, and she can act accordingly with astonishing swiftness and mercilessness. the only real consequence she's ever faced from this is the fact that the rest of the world- including herself- kind of melts away. meaning its hard to accommodate for the surrounding terrain, the state of her allies, or the severity of her own wounds… even then, though, none of that has ever been enough of a slap on the wrist to get her to change her fighting style.

but maxwell, on the other hand, is entirely the opposite. his whole gimmick is getting other people to do the work for him- working smarter instead of harder. and his style of fighting is the perfect counter to wigrid's. it's incredibly difficult- if not impossible- to hone in on someone when two, equally intelligent clones are clobbering you simultaneously. and in that regard it becomes almost embarrassingly easy to juggle wigfrid's aggro. without the puppets though, there wouldn't be any room for maxwell's methodical thinking when partnered with wigfrid's relentless aggression. every action he makes is too predictable; attacks are easily blocked, and defenses are too easily countered.

both of them being prideful at their cores, they're equally unwilling to let the others catch on to the fact that they both have such glaring offensive weaknesses. training against one another gives them a great opportunity to increase their skill against someone who won't snitch about how embarrassingly bad the other's faults are (because if one tells then the other would tell, so its symbiotic blackmail)

[cryoweaving]

if hyv won't validate xiao's fear of causing harm with his karmic debt, i will. his karmic debt would absolutely harm caiying if she wasn't a vision holder.

[somuch-4-stardust]

when alex turner wrote sweet dream tn

[the-andromeda-collective]

I am currently stuck feeling 28 years old which is equally terrifying and interesting because the January before I turned 28 is when I had COVID and I just got over the flu and a sinus infection and I'm experiencing a lot of similar fatigue issues, so like maybe I split around that time and my brain just pulled me up again because "hey, we need a guy who can be sick", but it's also fucking terrifying because I don't feel like I know where I am.

The fuck you mean we live in another state across the country now? The fuck you mean this is my room and I have little altars to pagan deities now? Where did these plushies come from? Whose candles and decorations are these? Where's my desk and dresser?

I know what happened, I know we moved, but also what the fuck is happening???

[mariasont]

hi honey! firstly, i just wanted to say your writing is beautiful—seriously, you’re so talented! i was wondering if you could write some hurt/comfort with early season spencer and gender neutral reader? something along the lines of spencer relapsing particularly badly and reader comforts him? maybe spencer doesn’t understand why they’re comforting him especially because he’s high and disoriented and drowsy and whatever. take it from there! thanks so much! 🦊

Worth It - S.R

a/n: hi!!!!!! thank you so much that means the absolute world to me! i hope you like this one <3

masterlist

pairings: early!seasons!spencer x gn!reader

warnings: drug use, relapsing, depression, pretty heavy themes yall, baby spencer

wc: 1.2k

"Spencer open the door."

The rough surface of the door scratched against your skin as you pressed your ear tighter to the wood. You willed yourself to stay perfectly still, straining for the smallest sound--a voice, a creak of floorboards, a heartbeat even. Nothing came. Just an empty, echoing void that seemed to laugh in your face. 

The tension in your stomach grew practically unbearable, twisting into a knot so tight it felt like it might snap you in half. His car was parked out front. His lights were on. You knew he was inside. You knew. Spencer didn’t just vanish, not without a reason. He didn’t shut people out unless something was wrong. You tried to picture him hunched over a book or pacing in thought, but the images felt brittle, like they might shatter if you held onto them for too long.

"Spencer, please," you tried again, louder this time. "I'm not leaving until I know you're okay."

Still nothing. With a shaky hand, you reached for the handle, hesitating just long enough to feel your heartbeat hammer in your ears. When it turned easily, the small relief was swallowed whole by the dread rising in your veins.

You froze as your eyes landed on him, slumped on the couch like a puppet whose strings had been cut. His head was bowed, his hand trembling faintly where it rested in his lap. His hair hung in messy strands around his face and his entire frame seemed to sag, like ten thousand boulders sat upon him.

"Spencer?" you whispered, stepping inside.

His head lifted at the sound, his bleary eyes struggling to focus. For a second, he looked almost surprised to see you, before his expression crumpled into something darker. Shame, maybe.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, voice raw, cracked, and worst of all—slurred.

The syringe on the coffee table confirmed what you already feared. You forced yourself to swallow, though it felt like shards of glass scraping down your throat. This wasn't the first time Spencer had relapsed, however, knowing that did nothing to soften the blow.

It was him, though—his appearance—that made it all so unbearable. He seemed impossibly diminished, as if this thing had shrunk him to something unrecognizable. The man you knew—sharp, wildly gifted, endlessly compassionate—had been hollowed out, replaced by someone who looked like they were holding on by a plastic string.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. What could you possibly say? That you were here because you cared? That you couldn't stand the thought of him hurting alone? Or that seeing him like this felt like your heart was being wrenched apart, piece by agonizing piece?

Your gaze drifted to the syringe again, and bile crept up your throat, hot and bitter. You'd always known Spencer was fragile in his own way, but seeing the physical evidence of it—made it real in a way you weren't sure you were prepared for.

"You're shaking," you said quietly, crossing the room to kneel in front of him.

"I'm fine," he murmured, but the tremor in his voice gave him away.

"Yeah," you said back, mirroring his hushed tone. "You look fine."

A harsh, bitter laugh tore from his throat, brittle and hollow. It fractured halfway through, faltering into silence as his head dropped forward. His shoulders slumped, folding in on themselves, and for a second, you thought he might collapse entirely.

 "Don't...don't say it."

"Say what?"

"That I messed up," he slurred. "That I—you don't need to say it. I already know."

You reached out, placing your hand gently over his. His skin was clammy, his fingers cold beneath yours. "I wasn't going to. I think you're doing a good job of beating yourself up without me piling on."

His breath hitched, and you felt his hand twitch beneath yours, but he didn't pull away. A good sign, you thought.

"You shouldn't even be here," he mumbled after a long pause, his voice barely audible.

"Well, I am."

He didn't argue, but the faint furrow of his brow told you he wanted to.  It was a familiar expression, etched into your memory like a signature—the one he wore when he was deep in thought, pushing through some intricate puzzle. You could almost picture the insanely intelligent remark that used to follow, the lightbulb moment when his ideas shot across the room.

You’d always marveled at this sheer scope of Spencer’s mind. It was like an endless expanse of stars, each thought and idea connecting to something bigger and more profound. But in moments like this, it was hard not to see the darker side of that brilliance. The same mind that made him so extraordinary seemed to turn on him, trapping him in a relentless cycle of second-guessing and self-inflicted pain, similar to a galaxy collapsing in on itself.

It hurt to see him like this. It hurt in a way you didn't have the words for. But as much as it cut through you, you knew it cut deeper for him.

You stood, moving quietly to the kitchen. The clicking of glassware was the only sound as you filled a cup with water and grabbed a towel. 

When you returned, he was staring blankly at the ceiling, his lips moving faintly like he was trying to form words.

You knelt beside him, holding the glass out. "Here. Drink this."

He blinked down at it, his brow furrowing like the act of drinking water was entirely too complicated. "I don't need—,"

"You do," you interrupted, gently nudging it toward him.

He took it after a beat, grip clumsy as you helped steady it. He sipped and you waited until he'd taken a few swallows before taking it back and setting it aside.

When you brought a damp towel to his forehead, he flinched, his eyes snapping to meet yours. "What are you...?"

"Shh," you said softly, dabbing at his sweat-damp skin.

He didn't relax right away, his body stiff and uncomfortable.

"You're just... doing all this," he muttered. "Like it's normal. Like I didn't..."

His voice trailed off, his gaze flickering guiltily to the coffee table.

You didn't follow his eyes.

"You're tired," you said instead, folding the towel and pressing it to the back of his neck.

"I didn't mean to," he said suddenly, his voice cracking. "I-I tried not to. I swear I tried. But I just... I just couldn't stop thinking—,"

He cut himself off, his breathing ragged and uneven.

"Spencer," you said softly. "You don't have to explain anything to me right now."

"But I—,"

"Not right now."

He let out a shaky exhale, his eyes drifting shut. You stayed beside him, wide awake.

The silence seemed to stretch between you, sometimes broken by his uneven breathing and the occasional murmured word as his mind wandered. He rambled faintly, disconnected sentences spilling out of him—something about Gideon, something you couldn't quite catch. You didn't try to make sense of it, just sat with him.

At some point, he slumped sideways, his head landing heavily against your shoulder. He didn't say anything, didn't open his eyes, but you felt his breathing slow and the tightness in his body gradually softened.

You reached for a blanket draped over the couch, carefully tucking it around him. His brow furrowed, and for a brief second, you thought he might wake, but he settled again, his head pressing deeper into your shoulder.

Your gaze flicked to the coffee table once more, the syringe laying there like a conversation waiting for tomorrow. But for now, you stayed still, letting him rest.

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[sungmee]

ECCC 2023 OFMD Panel Highlights:

vico showed up in izzy cosplay, they all were very excited at having a room of 3000 people cheering for them

on being asked about becoming sex symbols: "there's nothing sexier than kindness" -rhys

vico talking about how they had no clue on sailing and boat things, saying "starburst" instead of "starboard"

rhys started making sheep noises with a dad joke and then they all just started doing sheep impressions. samba's was basically just a scream

vico standing up and showing off their sword "wait that's a real sword" "how did you get that through weapons check??"

a question about who in the cast probably reads fanfic, they said nathan, paused, then said "i think con reads a lot of fanfiction"; samba gave a shoutout to rizzy

one word for what their character gets up to in s2: vico: serious gooseness (as opposed to silly gooseness) rhys: fantastical samba: let's just say there's more screaming

alex sherman apparently said s1 stede was a puppet becoming a real boy and s2 is stede becoming a man

on what cryptid stede would like best, rhys said "stede would go for the mermaid...or the kraken"

musical episode question, what song their character would sing: vico: tu pirata soy yo samba: let's get it on ("as he's torturing somebody") rhys: rainbow connection

samba: you know, karl dies- rhys: WHAT

rhys: i wish i had stede's hair samba: YOU DO

last question was what the toughest episode was to film samba: spoilers for s2?? moderator: how strong is your NDA? samba: very strong. there's a sniper in the room

then vico said ep 2 was the toughest and rhys said there's more physical stuff happening in s2, he had to workout, and samba got all the BTS

no release date or trailer, but it was a great panel with good questions and thoughtful answers

[insufferablemod]

not a huge surprise but still, damn, bros just ready 2 murder at the drop of a hat

also

neatly side stepping the bathroom question............

actually checking out pesterquest for the first time and

lmaooo nailed it B)

[alistarascendance]

❝𝐈 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨, 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧—𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧?❞

— in which, fabled legend Alistar returns from the Chasm decades after their descent, only to find themself faced with an issue: humanity, in their absence, has created a world of suffering, dilapidated by greed, and Alistar’s presence only continues to fuel their selfishness, as a living legend must kill… or be killed.

Alistar: Ascendance is a cyberpunk, dystopian romance interactive fiction that was originally intended to simply be a story, before its writer (me) decided to be impulsive and turn it into an IF.

DISCLAIMERS

this story will contain depictions of alcohol, smoking, blood, violence, profanity, mild gore, yandere behavior, toxic relationships, suggestive themes, discrimination, self-hatred, mentions of emotional and physical abuse, suicidal thoughts, an oppressive government, fictional languages and religions, real world philosophies/religions including but not limited to: cynicism, nihilism and atheism; a corrupt world, discussion of morals and human conscience, as well as other mature themes. this list will be updated as the story is written.

please keep all of this in mind while reading!

A gender-selectable MC, who you choose the name, personality, sexuality, appearance, and morals of.

A wide variety of choices to choose from that will impact your story, and the need to keep your MC sane (or just go batshit insane. That works, too).

5 male love interests + 1 secret RO, all of whom you can maintain a simply platonic relationship with if you wish, or you can just continue to flirt with them endlessly (+ a FWB relationship for some).

An enriching world and story, set in a cyberpunk dystopia (we know all of you are here for the romance though).

A powerful MC 😔😔

ROs (romance options, also referred to as LIs or love interests).

THE SURFACE DWELLER:

Seven. 21, Chaotic Good. Mechanic.

“The HIVE needs to fall. There are no exceptions—not even for you.”

The first person you meet once you arrive on the Surface, you and Seven have a unique bond. He’s got a reputation in the slums and Neon for being great at parties, but his friendliness can easily be read as something more.

Is it something more? Further observations will have to be made…

THE SURVIVOR

Saturn. 23, Lawful Evil. Bartender.

“Keep your head down, and you’ll survive.”

The quiet bartender has a curious perspective on things. He seems to have no problem with the HIVE members patrolling his bar, even serving them drinks like they’re normal customers, despite their heavy armor and edges that are too sharp to be humane.

He also doesn’t seem to be particularly interested in you in the slightest. Why’s that?

THE DIPLOMAT

“Is it better to live in quiet solitude, your voice stripped and taken—or would you rather have died, knowing your voice was the loudest amongst them all?”

Chain. 23, alignment unclear. Current occupation unknown.

He’s someone to keep an eye out for. While he hasn’t practiced his craft in years, he may still prove to be dangerous. Just as friendly as Seven, but far more difficult to truly befriend.

Obtain new information as soon as possible…

THE PUPPET

Judge me if you must. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m up here, and you’re down there.

Orion. 25, Lawful Neutral. HIVE operative.

The HIVE member patrolling Saturn’s bar. Part of something greater than he is, but he’s a part of it, regardless. Keep him around…

OTHER ENTITIES

Argos: Neutral Good. Age unknown. The deity whose spear you brandished, after his passing. He was a good man, but the fact only makes your sins rest heavier in your heart.

Teacher: True Neutral. Around ~200 years old. The chasm-dwelling shadow who taught you all you know of the Chasm and its residents.

Alistar: alignment unknown. Around ~200 years old. That’s you! You’re Alistar. At least, that’s what the world has been calling you ever since you ended the war and revitalized humanity, so that is what you will be referred to as throughout the entirety of the story. However, if you’d like to change your name (as Alistar is the default) you may!

As I am primarily an author (as in I literally have done nothing else with my life) I am new to coding (I took ONE coding club in fourth grade) and am trying to write out and perfect a chapter before converting it into typical IF form.

Once I manage to get things situated, I’ll started to code. I’m currently almost done writing chapter 4, so I’ll start working on coding once I finish it.

If anyone wants to read the chapters I’ve written until now, just shoot me an ask or message :)) I’d be happy to show you. otherwise, here are the ones I’ve posted so far:

CHAPTERS

CHAPTER ONE: COURTING DEATH CHAPTER TWO: THOSE WHO REMAIN CHAPTER THREE: TARNISHED DREAMS

asked to be tagged for new chapters!

[ceaselessly-mad]

"The door? The door… Yes, the door. I could have left, couldn’t I."

Or aka, my guess as to what I think (???) happened at the end of brick-by-brick. Way too long theory ramblings below:

So we only have the audios and transcript to go by, but for me, it seems like Poppy momentarily became hyper aware of her surroundings, and is now openly addressing both the literal stage/props/backdrops for the shoot and even the cast members of the show.

She questions where she is, not recognizing the stage as her barn, and the transcripts don't specify who she's talking to, even though they sounds awfully familiar to Sally and Frank.

So trying to visualize what's happening, I sort of imagined Poppy understandably freaking out over the person trying to open the door, her pushing herself towards the window to make distance, and accidentally knocking down the bricks, causing one of the ??? to exasperatedly ask why she hadn't just opened the door (though honestly something completely different could be happening).

Either way, this just brings on a whole new set of questions. At what point does the puppet world and the real world mesh together, if that is what's happening? What is happening to the puppeteers of the puppets that do suddenly gain this awareness, at least during that moment? Does this mean that the Looky-Loo storybook series are based on actual episodes of the show, otherwise how else did we getting a recording of between a physical puppet and cast members, if this is just happening within a book? You know what I mean???

Anyways thanks for looking and reading if ya got here ♥️🏠