#the characters are great and i like the writing style

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

one thing that I love about your eleutherophobia fics (among many many things) is that, despite being free of a Yeerk haunting his mind, Tom has now unwittingly replaced that with a reader listening to every thought and memory that he cares to share with us through the first person point of view. He’d be mortified if he ever broke the fourth wall ;)

thanks for your lovely writing and blog! definitely part of what’s keeping me going in these very weird times

Thank you! And yeah, I think a lot about the unique narration style in Animorphs, because I'm trying to imitate it. There's always an awareness that the characters are telling a story — the books open with the narrator going "I can't tell you my last name", and Marco especially will use imperatives like "don't tell anyone I said that." Clearly you is the reader, and each of the kids is meant to be aware that the reader is there.

There are some fascinating hints (handwaving Jake's line in #53) about who each narrator considers their audience. The Chronicles all state outright that each is an account of oneself (X) consciously crafted for one particular audience: Elfangor's talking to Tobias, Aldrea and Dak to Seerow Jr., Visser One to the Council (and Eva), and Toomin to Rachel. Ax says that he's narrating for his fellow andalites, so that they can better understand Earth (#8). Jake implies he's narrating for his great-grandkids: "I'll need to buy a footlocker" (#31). Tobias at one point implies he's talking to his imagined therapist (#23), but I also think you could argue that he's talking to the Ellimist (#13) or his dad (#33).

The others are a little trickier. Cassie seems to have Jake's same educational bent, but I'd argue she's trying to teach about the biology rather than the ethics of the war. Marco is probably talking to a kid his own age who thinks they're reading a sci fi novel. He's defensive ("call me Mr. Ruthless" as he feels empathy for baby seals), he's misdirecting ("now you know how I got a blowhole" instead of clarifying his role in the war), and he's desperate to impress ("I'm slightly not tall"). But he also references the reader "vegging out" and "watching TV." Rachel? I'd argue Rachel is talking to her own adult self. She doesn't care what others think of her, but she cares a lot about living with herself. She's trying to define who she is and who she wants to be, more than anyone else on the team.

[ihearthes]

Abbey Road Studios:

A Harry Styles Meet Cute

Author: @ihearthes

Pairing: Harry x Original Unnamed Female Character

Rating: Fluffy Meet Cute

Word Count: 3439

“You’re shitting me?” I gaped at my manager. “THE Abbey Road Studios? How did you…? When am I…? What the actual fuck?” 

Her grin across the desk was wider than a grand piano. “When I talked to the publishers about the audiobook, I assured them that being in the quintessential studio where the Beatles recorded The End would lead to a more inspired audiobook recording of your book The End.” 

Leaping out of my chair, I rushed around her desk and hugged her tighter than a guitar string nearing its breaking point. Her laughter was rich, the hearty kind that could be served with both a spoon and a fork. Maybe even a knife thrown in for good measure. 

“I’ll make you proud,” I vowed before releasing her and returning to the other side of the sparse wooden desk with its ornate carvings on each of the four legs.

“You already have,” she grinned. “After all, you have the most popular music podcast in the world.” Her statement was a major overstatement. Although my 2 year old podcast Time Machine Tunes was growing, it was barely in the top 100 music podcasts. Maggie was convinced the book would drive more listeners my way. “This book is going to be the icing on the cake of your popularity. You’re going places, kid.” 

While I could have managed without the ‘kid’ tacked onto every sentence the 72-year-old American dynamo spoke about me, I was keenly aware that I still had a long way to go in establishing my career as a historical music writer. Without Maggie fighting on my behalf, I would still be shopping my manuscript to publishers. Meticulously researched despite the subjects not honouring me with an interview, my book was garnering buzz from the musical world before the final manuscript was even sent to the publisher. 

“If you’ve heard the author’s podcast, you’ll understand her fascination with the greatest band of all time. You’ve heard the stories of how they ended, but this book delves more deeply into the stories surrounding their breakup,” read the promotional blurb written by Cameron Crowe. 

Maggie never would tell me how she managed to convince the great Cameron Crowe to write a blurb for my book, but I suspect it had something to do with the past she never mentions, likely involving a stint as a groupie in the late sixties. 

Days later, the popular zebra crossing was laid out before me with a steady stream of fans lined up to record their personal rendition of the most famous band photograph ever taken. I took a deep breath. In one tote bag, I carried my favourite teas, biscuits, and a bag of fresh fruit. The other tote bag held a copy of my bound manuscript with notes written in the margins of how I want to sound when I read certain parts of the text aloud. Places to pause were marked in pink highlighter. Sentences to be spoken with more emphasis were underlined. The usual. 

This is how I prepare for my podcast, so I shouldn't have felt as strange as I did. At the bottom steps of the studio, I took a deep breath, closing my eyes and whispering to myself, “Just act normal.” 

My fingers pressed on the wooden door, and it surprisingly opened at my touch. Inside was a reception desk with a stony-faced twenty-something female sitting behind it, tapping lightly on the keyboard keys, and a security guard wearing a uniform that must have weighed double the young man wearing it. 

“No tours. The shop is next door, Miss,” the receptionist politely used her pen to point the way. 

Gulping air, I nodded, then spoke in a rush. “I’m here to record. I mean, I have an appointment. I mean I’ve – my manager, really – has reserved a studio for me.” 

So much for acting normal. 

“Which studio?” 

“The Front Room?” I ventured. 

She tapped her pen on the book in front of her before shrewdly surveying me from head to toe. “Oh yes. Hand over your ID please so we can verify your identity.” 

I fumbled my way through my pocketbook, seeking the one item that always seemed to fall to the bottom, no matter how large or small my bag might be. Just as I felt the leather of the small wallet touch my fingers, it slipped away again until I finally had to set the bag on her desk to more effectively dig through it. In triumph, I finally withdrew the offending item, raising it above my head. 

The security guard simply stared at me until I freed my licence from its card slot, handing it over with a flourish. With a brusque nod, he took it from me with two fingers, exiting the room to another office. 

“Should I – follow him?” I inquired, my voice a combination of shaky and firm. 

“No.” Her reply was curt. 

Minutes later, he emerged, handing me back my licence before directing me to another door. “That’s the Front Room. The team is waiting for you.” 

My insides quivered like a bowl of elderflower jelly as I took the steps necessary to walk to the identified door. 

“Ta!” I waved to the front office team before opening the studio door and stepping inside. Closing the door behind me, I slumped against it, eyes closed, and whispered, “You daft git.” Because of course I would see them again. Soon probably. And every day for the week while I would be recording. 

“Excuse me?” The voice caused me to stand up straight. 

“Oh, I didn’t mean you.” My eyes took in the slight man standing before me in blue jeans and a cosy oversized jumper. His curls were ringlets that reached his shoulders, and his beard was neat and trim. 

“Who did you mean?” 

Wincing, I frowned, my face cycling through about five different expressions before settling on a smile that, I hoped, lit up my whole face. “Me. I meant me. I’m —” Freezing, I held out my hand to this man, briefly forgetting my name. 

“I know who you are. I’m Sean, your engineer.” 

“Oh! It’s so nice to meet you. Thank you for helping me.” 

Sheepishly, he shuffled his feet. “Don’t thank me too profusely. This is my first time doing this on my own.” 

“Congratulations!” My voice squeaked out a little too loudly. “This is my first time recording in a real studio. My podcast is normally recorded in a tiny room at home that I’ve converted into a studio.” 

“I’ve heard your podcast,” Sean reveals. “My partner and I never miss an episode.” 

Grasping my hands together, I hold them over my heart. “Really? Thank you so much. It’s my baby.” 

“One of these days you’re going to need a producer, you know. You can’t keep doing it all on your own. Not if you want to get bigger. And you’ll need a recordist. And an engineer too.” 

“Oh.” My voice was tiny. His words felt like a scolding and a dismissal of my teensy podcast and my dream to grow it into something larger. 

“No, no. I didn’t mean anything by it.” He was quick to correct my assumptions. “You’ll continue to expand your audience, and more people will want to be part of your team. It’s the natural evolution of recording. Unless you’re not any good – which I’ve already said you are.” 

Choosing to take him at his encouraging word, I set my totes on the sofa in the control room. “Sean, I’m confident we’re going to get along just fine this week.” 

“I’m sorry that you’ve just got me. It’s usually a bigger team here for the Front Room, but…” His voice trailed off, and I focused on his face. 

“But?” 

“It’s nothing.” He mindlessly picked some lint off of the immaculate sound board. “Some of the rest of the team thought it was sacrilegious for you to come into Abbey Road Studios to share your book about how THEY ended.” 

The emphasis on the pronoun made it clear who he meant. “Ah, I see. They refused to work with me even though they had no idea what the book actually says or how much research I did?”

His shoulders raised and lowered, and his eyes roamed the floor. “Like I said, I’m sorry.” 

The reluctance of the rest of the team set like a stone in my stomach, but I shook off the negativity. Oh well. Fuck them. 

“Their loss,” I grinned. 

He smiled back at me. ���Agreed. Let’s do this.” Sean gestured around the space, pointing out everything I needed to know, and I unpacked my totes in preparation for the day. “Nice selection of teas,” he commented. 

“My throat gets dry sometimes.” 

As if he needed my explanation. He had worked with loads of people who probably needed tea to lubricate their throats, so it couldn’t be unusual. Why I felt like I needed to justify every bit of my practice was beyond me. I was a professional after all. 

A professional who had no idea what she was doing in a fancy studio like this. 

Apparently I was feeling a twinge of imposter syndrome. 

“Shall I heat some water now?” Sean asked as I unpacked the manuscript with all of its sticky notes resembling the jagged cliffs of Dover. It was really sweet of him to offer, so I agreed. The control room wasn’t very big; other than the sofa, it housed a couple of plants and, of course, the prominent sound board. Sean flicked the switch on the electric kettle to the left of his console and turned back to where I was standing, my manuscript tucked to my chest as though it contained a pirate’s treasure. 

“Let’s get you into the booth,” he said, leading me through the only other door in the small studio. “We mostly do music here, as I’m sure you know. But I think I’ve got things set up well for an audiobook. I brought in this small desk and a chair. If you don’t like the chair, I can find another one. Oh, and I found this.” He directed my attention to a book stand. Sheepishly, he smiled. “I was worried a music stand would be too flimsy.” 

His simple preparations were touching, and my gratitude was boundless. 

My arse settled into the chair, and I sighed at how luxurious it felt on my bum. “Perfect!” I proclaimed, placing the first chapter of the manuscript on the book holder. 

“Great! Let’s try some different microphones and test your voice.” 

An hour plus a few minutes later, we had finalised the microphone choice as well as the calibration of the sound board controls with my voice. My cup of tea was to my right and my coloured pencils were to my left so I could easily grab them to indicate changes to my delivery. 

To record, Sean closed the door between the control room and the booth, but I could see him through the full sized soundproof glass inset on the door between us. During the first couple of hours, he would encouragingly nod to me at times. Or he would grimace, and I would know I had to read a section differently. Or louder. Or softer. Or with more expression. 

“Uh, this first chapter will probably take a long time to record,” Sean shuffled his feet as we finished our morning tea. “Don’t panic. Once we get into a groove, the rest of the book will go much faster. It’s just that we have to, you know…” 

“I understand,” I commented, nodding graciously. “It’s fine. As long as we get finished with the book by the end of the week…” 

“Oh, that won’t be hard.” He flapped his hand at me. “We might even have time on the last day to record a few of your upcoming podcasts.” 

“Really?” I was intrigued at the thought.

“But only if we don’t get too distracted.” 

Ha! What could possibly distract me from my work? 

I found out the answer to that question that very afternoon. 

Sean and I were finally recording chapter two, our bellies full of the lunch he’d convinced a studio runner to take away from a nearby Indian restaurant. The remnants, half-full boxes of rice and curry with naan bread, covered the top of the coffee table by the sofa. 

We had switched out the comfy chair for a wooden stool so that I could sit upright, practise my best posture and, most importantly, not fall asleep after the heavy meal. Sean played the roles of engineer, recordist, and director with joy and a skill that I came to both appreciate and disparage as the early afternoon flew by. 

 When I looked up from the script in front of me as we were in the middle of chapter three, I was surprised to find Sean turned towards the main studio door, his lips moving as though he were talking to someone. 

“Hey!” My voice expressed my gentle offence in his headphones. “I thought we were a team, but you’re not even listening!” 

He shook his head, removing his headphones and punching the button for his microphone. 

“Take five. There are a couple of fans of yours out here who want to meet you. I think you might recognize one of them.” 

Ugh. Fine. 

Standing from the stool, I stretched my arms over my head, my vintage Beatles t-shirt rising and revealing my belly button. Through the large window between the booth and control room, I watched as Sean stood, his head bobbing up and down and a grin on his face. 

When I could stall no more, I opened the door, leaning against the door jamb as I examined the two men standing by the studio door.

“Hi,” said one. 

My jaw dropped as the other man’s face came into focus. Holy shit. How was he here? Had Sean joked about him being a fan? He must have been because there was no way… 

“Jeff Azoff,” I breathed, attempting to speak coherently. “You’re Jeff Fucking Azoff.”

“Yes” was his smooth answer. “And I’m sure you know who this is…” He gestured to the man with him, and I shifted my gaze briefly to him. While extremely handsome, his face didn’t ring any bells, but I decided I’d better be polite and go along with the implication that I should know him by sight. 

“Nice to meet you,” I muttered, quickly turning back to THE Jeff Azoff. “How did you…? I mean, holy shit. The number of times your father’s name has appeared in my research is staggering. Did you grow up surrounded by all of those musicians? REO Speedwagon? Dan Fogelberg? The fucking Eagles?” 

“Yes,” he nodded. 

Man of few words. 

“What was it like? Oh wow. What I would give to pick your brain. Did I hear Sean correctly? You’re a fan? You listen to my pod?” 

Once more, he bobbed his head in answer to my multiple questions. And then he tried to hoist me off on his friend again. 

“Harry has worked with some other great artists,” Jeff began, nodding towards his companion. 

Dismissively, I waved my hand in the direction of the handsome man who simply grinned, an extraordinary dimple appearing. 

“YOU know my podcast?” I demanded of Mr. Azoff.

“Yes.” 

Holy shit. Confident I would need to pry any future responses out of him, I placed my hands on my hips. 

“You’ve heard my series about the Eagles then?” 

“Indeed.” 

“And? What did you think? Are you going to tell me everything I got wrong?” 

“No, but I really think you might want to talk to Harry about…” 

I interrupted. Whoever this Harry was, I was much more curious about this man’s take on my podcast. “Has your father heard my podcast?” My voice may have squeaked a little when I asked the question. 

A nod was the only reply I got before he turned back to the bloke with him. 

“Is this weird for you?” 

“No.” The handsome man appeared to be amused as his lips twitched to the side, and his eye crinkles magically appeared. “Unique, but not weird.” 

Narrowing my focus on the handsome one, I squinted. “You’re a musician recording here?” 

“As a matter of fact, I am,” he grinned. “I’m Harry.” When my face still showed no signs of recognition, he added in a smooth voice with a northern accent, “You might have heard of me. My music has won a few awards. Harry Styles.” 

The blood drained from my face. I had been freaking out over Jeff Azoff when the muse to Stevie Nicks was standing in front of me? It was Harry who grasped my elbow when I started to fall over from a lack of oxygen, gently guiding me to the sofa. 

“Maybe some water?” he asked Sean who rushed into the booth to grab my water bottle, handing it to Harry quickly. 

“Sip it slowly,” the Grammy winner said, and I ignored his instructions, nearly choking as I sucked water into my lungs. “Hey, hey. Easy there.” Glancing at Azoff, Harry laughed, “This feels more normal.” 

“You –” I choked, coughing between words. “You – know – Stevie – Fucking – Nicks.” 

Curiosity furrowed his brow. “That’s why you nearly passed out? Because I know Stevie?” 

“You not only know her.” My voice was filled with incredulity and awe. “You’re her muse. You’ve performed with her – and with Fleetwood Mac. And you were the one who inducted her. Holy fuck. You must have done something right in life.” Stopping, I swallowed. “Holy fuck. I must have done something right in my life.” 

He had settled on the sofa next to me, his face a mass of confusion. His head was tilted, and his lips were pursed as he scratched at his head. 

But I didn’t have time to wait for him to catch up. “You can introduce me! Fleetwood Mac is my next podcast series, and if this book does well, I might write a full book about them. I’ve been engaged in a deep dive of reading about their time as a band. I’ve read everything I can find – official or not. In fact, there is a stack of books on my nightstand about Stevie and Mick and the rest. You have to introduce me. It would mean the world to me.” 

My pleading must have broken through his confusion, and he cleared his throat. “You want me to vouch for you to Stevie? I don't really know anything about you.” 

“But you listen to my podcast, right?” My head swivelled between Harry and Jeff. “Oh! You could read my book. See what my style is. I swear I would do right by Stevie. I’m so disappointed that I didn’t get to meet Christine before she… Anyway, I’ll do anything for an introduction. What do you need from me?” 

“Anything?” Harry humoured me. 

“Yes.” Swallowing, I nodded eagerly. 

“You’re saying I could read your book? The one that’s not yet published? The one you’re recording now?” 

My head bobbed like a cormorant. 

“The one that’s about The End? That book?” 

I hadn’t stopped my silly affirming as my head continued to move in the same up and down pattern. 

“And maybe Jeff could read it too? And my friend Paul?” 

My head froze, mid-bob. “Paul? Sir Paul? Sir Paul Fucking McCartney?” 

Harry laughed, a delightful tinkling sound, his head rearing back with his joy. “Does everyone in your world have the same middle name?” 

“Huh?” 

“Fucking. Jeff Fucking Azoff. Harry Fucking Styles. Stevie Fucking Nicks. Sir Paul Fucking McCartney.” 

Slapping my hand over my eyes and forehead, I groaned. “Please don’t tease me or joke with me. I’ve been trying to get Sir Paul to talk to me and read the manuscript since I started writing it. Not a single response to my queries.” 

“Hmmm…” Harry murmured, tilting his head to one side. “So if you would do anything to meet Stevie, what would you be willing to do to meet Paul?” 

“Name your price.” I was hoping he wouldn’t ask for much. All I had was the flat I shared with a friend from uni and a wardrobe of vintage clothing I’d carefully culled from a variety of charity shops.

“I get to be there when you meet them.” My head whipped up so that our eyes connected. “Plus five dinner dates with me.” 

My eyes narrowed, “In addition to any meals we share with Stevie or Paul?” 

Nervously, he licked his lips and glanced at Azoff who shrugged, seemingly disinterested. 

“Yes.” 

Author's Note: This really is just an introduction to these characters as part of a series on Meet Cutes. Who hasn't dreamed of meeting Harry Styles somewhere? Live vicariously through these women who randomly run into Harry Styles as part of their normal lives. How might one chance meeting change their lives forever?

[ave-on-main]

Hello, I hope I'm not bothering you! I also hope that you're doing well! I want to start off by saying that I adore your fics, particularly the ones that you write about Brudick. They're really great, and I often reread them on occasion. The many different ideas you have for them, along with your grasp of their characters, are so fun to read and feel so accurate honestly! I love seeing your comments as well even if its on your own fics or others with your analyses about them, and it genuinely brings me joy to see. Thank you for writing stories about them! 🖤💙

I also have a question that kind of popped into my head in regards to them that made me wonder if this is a thing that mostly or only Dick has the privilege of. It's often been pointed out how Dick usually can be physically affectionate with Bruce in comparison to anyone else, like he can touch him freely without Bruce getting upset for the most part or being on guard, and I was wondering if that's the case within canon. I feel like it is, but I'm not entirely sure, though I do know for sure that Dick is someone extremely special to Bruce regardless of whether it's platonic or romantic.

Hi! I hope you're doing ok too! Thank you so much for the ask and the kind words. I always appreciate people commenting on my writing. 💕 And these two are undoubtedly very dear to me!

How physically affectionate Dick and Bruce are in canon changes a lot, tbh, which means people's opinions on it really depend on what panels someone has been exposed to. Often there can be a wall between Bruce and Dick, but they grow most affectionate when they are grieving (and that doesn't need to be a person). Bruce has given out hugs to other Bats, but canon does give the impression that Dick can initiate physical contact more easily and often than others. I think specifically for ship purposes, tearing this wall down further is a lot of fun.

How I see their physical affections comes down to their fighting style. They are very much in tune with each other, and Dick would be used to a kind of physical connection given he is a trapeze artist.

Fighting for them means contact. Sometimes painful, othertimes not.

We have a lot more hands-on a shoulder or other body part panels than hugs. Maybe because the panel from Tec #38 is so iconic, but more likely because they are guys. There are a few instances of Bruce hugging others, but Dick remains a source of comfort for him too, which is different from the role others play in Bruce's life.

The hand on heart is a newer thing, but I'm not complaining about it.

A lot of it is interpretation, of course, but I think it says something that when Dick played the role of the Joker in Batman 2011 #1, the way he was exposed to be Dick to the readers (before the true reveal) was by him touching Bruce a ton, lol.

And, of course, Dick was carried to safety a lot when he was younger. Sometimes he even did the carrying himself.

Dick can, very easily, be in Bruce's bubble because he isn't an intruder. They share 4 to 6 years of living together depending on canon and crime fight together for even longer on top of their shared trauma. That doesn't automatically translate to physical contact = good, but it helps.

[indieyuugure]

Hi Indie !

First of all, I truly love your version of TMNT. Your dialogues are so good and the designs are great. In terms of writing it kind of reminds me of the Webtoon comic: Batman, Wayne Family Adventures in the way that it’s a brilliant take on a famous franchise.

Also, I kind of had a question and a request.

I noticed a change of style with the color scheme you have now compare to your previous sketches. Like before, Mickey’s stickers were colored and blood was red when those elements are now in black and white. My question is why the change ? Not that it’s a bad choice or it doesn’t fit in you aesthetic, I was just genuinely wondering😁.

As for my request, well I’m French and I really enjoy doing translation either from French to English or from English to French. Therefore I was wondering if you were okay with me doing a French version of your comics ? If you’re not, I totally understand so no worry😁

I can’t wait for the next chapter !!! I wish all the best !

Aw thank you so much! I’m so glad you love the art and the writing! I’ve never read that webcomic, but I’ve heard about it before! I’ll take it as a compliment! ^v^

That is an excellent question! Basically I wanted to reduce the colors on the pages to just the colors of one of the characters items.

I’ve actually been cutting down on color usage since TMS (April’s hair and Casey’s under shirt were colored red and mauve respectively in ROTP but not in TMS) since I felt that it made for some very odd color things, like it felt like too much color be stylistic, but too little to be fully colored? Idk I just didn’t like it, so in TMS every character was allotted two colors: one eye color and one outfit color. That made it a lot simpler and drastically decreased the feeling I had about the colors.

That reason is also why I cut Mikey’s sticker colors. I did think about it, but I decided against it because it felt odd to give Mikey three colors and everyone else one. He’s not the MC, so like, it just seemed like an odd design choice to continue with.

The removal of using red for blood is a bit more complicated. I actually considered making it red in Indie TMNT, but I ended up not because of a few reasons.

1: Red is Raph’s color, it should be used as such (every character only got one color anyway, reusing the color makes it feel less special that it’s there)

2: flushing, whether because of love or illness or embarrassment or whatever, was also being shaded with red because it’s caused by blood, and I just didn’t really like the way it looked? I dunno probably a personal thing? I won’t say why cause I don’t wanna put the thought in your heads, but specifically with Donnie’s face being red from his fever in TMS, I just didn’t like it.

3: I found that the color red makes wounds more graphic. Not sure why? I found with TMS I was having to censor Leo’s wounds more than I anticipated. They were originally so much more disgusting when the red was added that I had to add a lot more black to be comfortable with the drawing. I’m satisfied with my results, I think I struck a good balance, but it did kind get me thinking since I plan to make Indie TMNT just as gory.

Its original purpose for being added was because wounds were key plot points in both ROTP and TMS and I wanted you to pay attention to them and remember them. Now, that’s not to say they’re not important in Indie Tmnt, but I found with the increased violence I was adding (because murder is okay in this comic) it felt unnecessary. Almost every fight scene has splatters of blood that aren’t really that plot related, so it’s not the same as TMS which follows 2012’s no blood or injuries in fights rule until it’s shattered. So in addition to all the other reasons listed, I felt it was fine to get rid of the usage of red for blood and other injuries in this comic.

TLDR: I want each character’s color to be special and they only get one cause I’m lazy and I think it looks cooler. Red blood makes people squeamish but black blood doesn’t 🤷‍♀️ also less important in this comic

As for your request: YES!! I’m totally okay with it, you absolutely may! I would love that! However you decide to do it, just be sure you credit me as the original author of the comic and send me a link when your done so I can post it on the comic masterpost for anyone who wants the translation to read!

Good questions! :]

[queen-schadenfreude]

now that I've finished datv.. i have some first pass thoughts

spolers below

first of all why is this game trying so hard to rehabilitate in-universe controversial aspects? I mean like. Slavery in Tevinter. It's swept under the rug with a few lukewarm platitudes and codices about how it's being addressed off-screen. Previous games have established how horrific it is, but the tevinter we see in veilguard doesn't reflect that at all. it feels dismissive of a lot of major setting and character development. Same with the antivan crows! they were described as a brutal, cruel organization but now they're the underdog protectors? Sure, there was family drama and a few mentions of how cut-throat things HAD been before, but we don't get to *see* any of that. illario was weak as an example of this bc he was the only thing to be shown as bad. There's no tangible impact.

it seems like a feeble attempt to make sure the players understand that the writers do not condone the unsavory aspects of the setting and characters, while making everything a Teachable Moment. honestly half of the game felt like a psa on extremely basic ethics, like surface-level shit children already know.

on top of that, idk why the game is trying so hard to therapize the player via companions' emotional journeys. The extremely basic and direct "your feelings matter and it's okay to feel your feelings! " scenarios were so repetitive and cringe. Sesame street level bullshit. am i crazy for expecting a more mature and nuanced approach to emotional struggle??? I swear previous games were better at this

also fuck all of southern thedas, it's cooked. hope yall didn't care!

Anyway.

ive only played through Neve's romance and i chose her bc she talks and acts like an adult and not a flustered teenager like harding, or a quirky mpdg like bellara. I liked it, it was fine. no strong feelings about it tho.

I didnt consider Taash as a romance option bc they act like a petulant child most of the time and that's just not fun for me.. and I don't love that Taash seems more like a prop for Gender Ideology 101 rather than being a fully complex character who is working through a gender identity crisis. I am not trans and cannot fully speak to this but as someone who knows more than the absolute basics of gender ideology, their story felt patronizing.

the boys are... fine, I guess. I wrecked treviso so I think i got locked out of some Lucanis stuff but his possession just isn't as compelling as previous characters who have been possessed. Davrin is fine, inoffensive. Emmerich is funny I do like him, Manfred is delightful.

I played as an elf bc I hoped it'd be extra relevant to the story, what with the Big Bad(s) being evanuris. it didn't matter at all. the crossroads doesn't even look different for an elf character like it did in Trespasser.

I expected everything to drive torward making Solas out to being a Good Guy Actually, and it kind of did. but super aggravating for have phantom varric to say that after being actually murdered by him like damn!! you are just gonna let that guy walk all over you bc yall were friends for a short while a decade ago. Where was that sympathy for Anders??

varric being a figment of rook's imagination the whole time was a fun reveal, tho.

siiigghhh. but listen. there were things I liked about the game, too. the gameplay is fun. the environments are GORGEOUS. the characters look good, i think the art style is fine actually. the character creator is great (except those qunari fiveheads RIP)

a lot of the banter and jokes did genuinely make me laugh, and i did like exploring maps and interacting with the new companions generally.

I havent given a lot of thought to it but I think a lot of the plot-related issues i have could've been solved by just setting the game like, 100 years in the future. All of the questionable and unsavory aspects of the cultures the game tries SO hard to diminish and write off would've had time to be organically rectified in-universe. I guess.

well. whatever.

[michameinmicha]

That feeling when you just finished a book and you want to stay in that world just a little longer...

[ohno-the-sun]

Little oc I’ve been thinking about for awhile

Name’s Roulette (maybe goes by Rue for short)

Featuring doodles by @garbagechocolate and @benji-draws

Lore under the cut (tw gore)

Roulette originally came from a different Pizzaplex location where she ran the prize wheel. Children would spend tokens to spin the wheel and she would give out whatever prize they won.

These prizes were typically tokens or toys, but whether it be by errant programming or an overly sensitive cheating prevention system, her games often ended with the wheel's options slowly being replaced by worse and worse prizes. In fact they didn't seem like prizes at all, more like things she'd take from you to add to her own collection.

After the mysterious disappearance of several human body parts and various lawsuits, she was decommissioned and sent to Sun and Moon's Pizzaplex for storage.

One day she wakes up to see a terrifying looking moon animatronic ripping into her innards. Horrified she barely manages to get away, hiding until Sun finds her.

Sun feeling bad about his counterpart destroying this poor animatronic, tells her he'll help fix her up. Little does he know that this animatronic is not as innocent as she seems.

Fascinated by his kindness and ease of access to fleshy human bodies, she ends up with an intense and unhealthy obsession with Sun.

Unfortunately, she also ends up with a deep hatred for Moon and wants nothing more than for him to disappear.

She has a plan in mind now, she will make this Pizzaplex her's, creating unlimited access to as many body parts as she desires. Sun will be her sweet pet and Moon will be dead in an alley somewhere.

Highly manipulative with a concerning lack of empathy, Sun and Moon are going to have a hard time with this one.

However, what she doesn't realize is just how close Sun and Moon are.

[pocketscribbs]

my favorite thing is when Sonic artists get creative and consider the characters’ abilities/personalities when drawing them in action

my personal favorite example is Tangle the Lemur and her fabulous tail

she ziplines down grind rails, she’s probably fast enough to spin dash regularly but she instead uses her tails to create her own “spiral dash”(this is what i’m calling it)

just one of the many reasons why I think Tangle is such a fun character, her excitable and thrill-seeking attitude mixed with her powerful, stretchy tail makes for some creative and entertaining visuals

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Saint-Seducing Gold

book two in the Forge & Fracture Saga

YA historical fantasy about a girl with a connection to an Orisha & power over metal

trying to find a way to reforge the broken pact between fae and humans to stop the increasing violence across London

she’s forced to leave her family & Shakespeare’s players to join the royal court and navigate the tenuous political situations while keeping herself & her loved ones safe

bi MC, navigating a relationship with both a boy & girl

[wykart]

I've been reading the Rivers of London series and I can feel Ben Aaronovitch trying to restrain himself yet there's still at least two Doctor Who references per book.

[lyril]

i feel like not enough people use writing fanfiction as a way to like... study and learn? outside of it being more practice and things. like sure, this is for entertainment first and foremost, but for me keeping the writing tone and characterization as accurate as i can to then transform it more into a writing style to create something good just ends up in me like, intensely studying the source material. i don't ever go off of memory i fucking break that shit down, study dialogue patterns and write down literally everything the characters i'm writing for say, observe the structure and themes and tone of whatever i'm looking at, watch and analyze things until i'm sick of them and come out a better writer because of that hands-on observation and because i simply fucking hate when other people go off of memory while writing characters i like ❤️

[unproduciblesmackdown]

also marble hornets fun fact #92 like it's fun that for once the neurotypical agenda accidentally got a win: when in that s1 "interview" episode apparently there was no particular plan to have tim be a recurring character before a strong audience response of speculation that there must be something more going on with this guy because his fidgeting with a notebook all throughout the video was indication of Liar's Anxiety or whatever; in reality tim sutton was not making any acting choice (to serve then-nonexistent writing) but was spontaneously being someone often fidgeting with paper. then call that unfolding developments

[paperconsumption]

from the feedback i got in creative writing class today i’ve realized that enstars has improved the way i write dialogue like an insane amount

[hana-loves-bumblebees]

Is there a Yuri!!! On ice x The Great Gatsby au somewhere out there? Because I believe it would work really well in any angle you could look at it

[cool-as-steel]

reread adventures of john blake after maybe six years... it is always unfortunate when something does not live up to how cool you thought it was when you were younger.

[telephonestalker]

If paranatural ever were to become a show, I would split chapter five into three parts. First of all, I'd split it up because of how long it is. The first part is Chapter 5, Part 1: A Dangerous Game of Hitball. This follows all the way to "It's one of them!" where it cuts off. Next episode is Chapter 5, Part 2: The Hunt & Stalk a Teacher which goes to the big reveal of who's been possessed the whole time. Finally, we have Chapter 5, Part 3: The Final Showdown which is the big arc, everyone's fighting & we end the first season there.