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#so yeah hence the tag)))

dualdeliverence · 25 days

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A day late, but here we are! A bunch of adult kids in our own post-canon stuff. Did I do their adult designs before finalizing their canon ones? Uh, yes. Will I do it again? Probably.

I've been out of the fandom for a while (just returned this past year), but my hope has always been that these guys get to live and heal and be happy after it all. Growing up is hard, and as someone growing up around the same age as these guys, I get it.

It takes time, but you'll get there. Just keep going, and hold the people who care about you close.

#my art #homestuck #4/13 #happy 4/13 #june egbert #rose lalonde #jade harley #dave strider #not earth-c #we've got our own thing going on #hence what's going on with jade #we'll probably get to talking about New Home at some point #anyway yeah #implied davekat but obviously not tagging so since it's not here #john egbert #j egbert

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rassicas · 9 months

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I don't think this nuance carries through in my posts all too well with how much i criticize splatoon's english localization. But I believe the fault is less so on the localizers themselves and more so on the higher ups and whoever is managing the localization team. For one thing there needs to be better communication between the Splatoon team on the JP side and the localization team to convey whats going on with the worldbuilding. I'm not all that involved with the Kirby series, but I am aware that there have been some localization choices that seriously contradict with the JP version in a way that affected the lore. I don't know how well the localization of Kirby and the Forgotten Land turned out, but one of the developers mentioned that there was collaboration with the localization team to ensure they got the lore right.

And with some of the choices made in Splatoon 2 especially, (like pearl making all the octopus jokes about marina and references to the destructive power of pearl's voice being cut, both of which ended up being really important for octo expansion) this level of communication about Splatoon's world and story was definitely not happening for the writing Splatoon and Splatoon 2. Splatoon 3 it's hard to say, but there's were certainly some questionable choices in the Squid research lab posts leading up to Splatoon 3, and also whatever happened with Mr. Grizz's characterization...We'll see how Side Order turns out.

also according to this article (from 2022), nearly half of NOA's localization team are contractors rather than full time employees, and there were no full time hires over the past 3 years. It sucks for the contractors who don't get those privileges of fulltime employees, and it sucks for fulltime employees who have to reorganize workloads to compensate for those whose contract expired. I'd imagine this also leads to less time for some of the localizers to really get to know the source material of what they're translating.

One other weird thing about this is that the majority of weird localization changes are from NOA, while NOE localizations tend to be more accurate to the source material. There's probably a variety of factors at play, like what philosophy NOA takes in localization practices + the other factors mentioned above. anyways just getting thoughts out there. what the hell is happening at nintendo treehouse

#idk what to tag this as. we are rambling here.#splatoon translations #yeah i guess it can go in that tag.#ive had a lot of time and thoughts in my brain lately about Funny Squid Game so hence my long posts as of late #long post

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stupid-and-cute-are-enough · 8 months

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for the past 4 days, i've descended into madness over the anon getting turned into an animatronic. behold. 2.6k words @get-rammed i've gone insane

as always, i spew BTS lore in the tags

“Alright, that’s everything,” his Handler announces, finishing the paint on his last claw. They give his hand a satisfied pat. Monty watches as they turn away and begin packing up their things, making idle chatter as they do, offhandedly mentioning that they hope it isn’t too late by the time they actually get to head home. They told him earlier that they’ve got a meeting with the higher-ups once they’re done tonight, and it’s been weighing on him all day.

“I don’t think you should go to that meeting,” he says because he can’t take it any longer.

They pause. “What do you mean?”

“I just… I don’t think you should go.” Monty clenches his fists in his lap. It doesn’t feel right. If it was any other lame meeting announced in a staff email, sure, but this isn’t one of those. They were approached in person. No documents, nothing written; just pulled them aside this morning and told them something about enhancing the Handler experience. All of the other Handlers have gone home already, too, and there’s nothing that they could want just his for that meant anything good.

They huff fondly. “I don’t really have a choice, Monty.”

They keep getting ready, a sinking feeling forming in Monty. He tries again to explain that it’s a bad idea again but is gently shut down. His Handler hugs his head on their way out, an act he’d usually eat up and crave more of, but tonight, he feels like rejecting it. It just feels so wrong.

“Sweets, please, don’t go.” He grabs onto their sleeve. “I got a bad feeling about this.”

Their face softens. “I hear you, Monty, but I have to. I’ll probably get fired if I don’t.” They laugh a little. “I’m sure everything will be fine. Worst-case scenario, they dump a mountain of work on me. Everything’ll be okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, big guy.”

—

They announced a new animatronic the very next day.

The announcement made Monty raise a brow because even with his debut as a Glamrock, as rushed as it was, Fazzbear Entertainment still took their time to milk it for all its worth. Surely, with a brand-new animatronic, they’d pull out all of the theatrics. But, no, management had just called everyone backstage (Monty was grabbed by Chica’s Handler because his still wasn’t here, and it worried him. They always tell him if they’re going to be late) and spilled the news.

It’s another gator, which, geez, thanks, corporate. It’s dressed in actual clothes, unlike the rest of them. It’s a little smaller than Monty, with a sleeker design. Monty eyes the new thing up and down. There’s something… wrong with it. Monty feels it. So does the rest of the band. It stands across from them, eyes too wide, taking in too much yet too little information at the same time. Its hands are clutched together, held tightly to its chest. It’s a shambling mess, really. Barely finished and definitely not ready for crowds. The thing really needs a Handler, which only reminds Monty of the empty space by his side.

It’s different from them. It doesn’t fill its body like it’s supposed to. A feeling of uneasiness washes over the room. Even the other Handlers look a little disturbed.

After the incredibly lackluster introduction, dampened by the uneasiness of everyone in the room, management gives up on pleasantries and snaps at everyone to prepare for opening time. They leave without further explanation, not even telling everyone what the newcomer is supposed to be doing. Everyone takes the chance to leave as fast as possible, abandoning the barely functional animatronic where it stands.

Something in Monty tells him to linger, as disturbed as he is. The sinking feeling he had last night returns tenfold.

It looks too familiar. Cautiously, Monty approaches the thing, eyeing the uniform it wears. He dares not to peek at the nametag displayed proudly on its chest. The animatronic tilts its head up at him slightly, or at least it tries. Monty can hear the inner mechanics going, but it remains frozen. He stands uncomfortably in front of it, unsure of what to do. Everything about it feels wrong. Everything about this feels wrong.

He peeks at the nametag, and his world comes crashing down. Surely not. They couldn’t have shoved a whole person, a full consciousness, inside of an animatronic, could they? That technology doesn’t exist, right? Right?

Monty reaches out a shaking hand, staring into the bot’s blank, red eyes. It can’t be. Fazzbear has done some fucked up, shady stuff, but they wouldn’t do this, would they? This has to be too far. It has to. His hand touches their forearm, feeling the all-too-familiar fabric of the Handler uniforms under his finger pads. He meets their eyes, registering the terror behind their blank stare.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Hey, it’s... I, uh-”

“M-” Their voice fries out, and their jaw moves unnaturally. But it’s enough for Monty. That’s their voice. That’s their voice. Monty feels something vile fester inside of him. If he could get sick, he would. That’s them. That’s them in there. They’re in there. That’s his Handler, who he saw just last night, in there.

Their stare is so blank. Their hands are clutched together so tightly. That’s them.

“Oh, sweets…”

His hands slide down their arms to take their hands, snagging his thumb on the cuff of their uniform as he goes. Something there catches his eyes, though, something a human eye would miss, but something he’s been trained to notice. A tiny speckle of blood stained into the fabric. Their blood.

Monty sucks in a breath, his grip on their hands tightening. They were hurt when this was done to them. They bled.

“Let’s go to my green room,” he says. He keeps his voice gentle, but there’s also no room to argue. He doesn’t think they could, anyway. They don’t respond to him or make any kind of movement, so Monty moves for them. Slowly, painfully, he guides them up to his green room, keeping a gentle set of hands on them the entire way. They stumble and would’ve fallen without Monty to catch them. Their tail drags limply behind them. They probably don’t know how to use it for balance yet. The word yet makes Monty’s heart hurt.

He ensures the door stays open as they shuffle into his room, hovering over them until they’ve been cautiously guided to sit on the couch. They don’t need to struggle to stand anymore. Monty doesn’t think he could handle seeing it.

“Everything’s gonna be okay,” he says. It’s a lie. It’s an awful, horrible lie, but what else is he supposed to say?

They try to speak again, but their voice fries into something that sounds like a quiet cry. Their body begins to tremble, their hands clenching around each other even harder. All tell-tale signs that they’re crying, but they don’t have tears anymore. Instead, their eyes just stare into the wall, unresponsive.

“I’m so sorry, sweets,” he says as they weep. He sits beside them on the couch, cautiously wrapping his body around theirs. He doesn’t know if the different sensations will upset them even further, but he also doesn’t know what else to do.

“H-” A billow of steam rolls out of their jaw, rattling their whole system. The sudden movement startles Monty, making him pull away.

“Hey, sweets, you-” Monty glances into their eyes, wide, sightless, terrified, with a slack jaw pouring steam, “you need to calm down. I know it seems like I’m askin’ the impossible of ya, but you’ll overheat yourself, and I dunno how to fix that.”

Their body shudders, unresponsive to their mind. Monty doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to help. He remembers what they did when he first came online and when he was given his new body. They surrounded him with familiar, comforting things, but his Handler doesn’t live here like he does. At least they didn’t. Their greatest comforts are probably far out of Monty’s reach. He searches around his green room, trying to find anything he knows helps them relax.

He spots a fidget they used to love playing with during his noon charging sessions. It should be simple enough; it just needs a pushing and pulling motion. Nothing complicated. But his Handler’s hands don’t react, even as he pries them apart and presses the fidget into their palm. Their fingers remain tense, not even twitching.

“Okay, something easier. I got it. I’ve got you.”

Monty reaches and grabs one of the oversized plushies lying beside the two of them on the couch. It’s big enough for him to comfortably interact with, so it should be good enough for them, too, right? He places the weighted plush in their lap, tucking its arms in so his Handler doesn’t have to do it themself. It looks like they try to wrap their arms around the plush, but the thing just ends up getting knocked to the floor. The failure to get their arms to work only serves to upset his Handler more as their hands begin trembling, the metal of the digits clinking together.

Monty looks up at them, scared for them. Scared with them. If they can’t function, they’re going to be decommissioned– not fired, not still alive, decommissioned and dead. Gone forever. Their head has turned slightly, staring intensely at something, so Monty follows their line of sight. His gaze lands on their jacket that they accidentally left last night, draped across a chair. Now a little shaky himself, Monty gets up and retrieves it for them.

He realizes once he gets back that it doesn’t fit them anymore. It used to be so big on them, but it doesn’t fit now. Their favorite jacket, the one they wore every day, doesn’t fit anymore. He drapes it over their shoulders, bringing it around them tightly. Their shoulders are bigger under his hands. Wider. Their body is like his own now and so very, very different from what it used to be.

He retakes their hands, kneeling in front of them. He meets their eyes, which stare deep into whatever kind of soul he has.

“Look at me, Chere,” he says, squeezing their hands, trying to ground them. He’d tell them to breathe with him, but they can’t anymore, and he doesn’t know if that’ll help or upset them. “I’ve got you. I promise. I won’t ever, ever let anything else happen to you. I promise.”

Their hands squeeze his own, and Monty lets out his own version of a sigh of relief. The shaking in their limbs begins to die down, the steam eventually coming to an end. He smiles at them, keeping his hold on their hands solid. He praises them softly, rubbing their knuckles.

Their eyes meet his properly, and Monty can see the hurt and the fear in their eyes. They shift, jaw moving experimentally.

“I… can’t breathe,” they say.

Monty’s heart breaks for them. They try to shift, try to grab onto their jacket and pull it tighter around them, but their limbs won’t cooperate, and the metal of their fingers slips against the satin material.

“Here, you gotta… you gotta grip with the pads of your fingers. Like this,” Monty says, taking hold of their hands and guiding their fingers to do so. A shudder runs through their system, getting their hands to tighten and pull, if only slightly.

Monty steps back to take another look at the design of their new body. A gator, like him. Their hair is soft and synthetic, with a little product to keep it sleek, so at least that wasn’t taken from them. In a bitter-sweet kind of way, Monty can imagine helping them style their hair in the morning when the dust settles. But Monty still has trouble adjusting to his mohawk, so he can’t imagine what it’s like for them right now. How long it’ll take for that dust to settle. They’re smaller than him. Sleeker. A little more compact and able to fit into tighter spaces. Probably equipped with the same processing power Monty has, and he prays to whatever is out there, none of the guardrails. Overall, they’re… built to work. They were hurt, maybe even killed, their body broken, disposed of, and shoved into this body to work. To work! They never get to go home again; they never get to have a life outside of the Pizzaplex ever again, all so Fazzbear Entertainment could have another obedient little worker.

Monty shoves down his anger. They don’t need that right now. Instead, he turns his energy to muster up the best smile he can, affirming the correct motions with their hands.

“There you go, you’ve got it.” His smile wavers a little at their silence.

They stare at their hands, their new, robotic, alien hands. Hands that don’t listen when they tell them to move. A body that doesn’t listen. They grip around the fabric of their jacket, feeling, in a way, the mechanics whirr in their arms. But they don’t feel the silky fabric anywhere but their finger pads. They feel the warmth of Monty in front of them, holding onto them, but only in broad strokes. It’s not like skin. It’ll never be like skin. There’s no more blood, only coolant (they feel so cold), no nerves, no organs. No lungs. Those things are still there, in a way, in a robotic sense.

All of the essential bits keeping their body moving are still there. But it’s not their body. Flashes of blood and mutilation streak across their vision the longer they stare. They have claws now. And a snout. And a tail. They always thought it’d be kind of cool to have a tail, who doesn’t, but not like this. They don’t want this. They want to go home and lay in bed and fall asleep and hope that this is some god-awful dream. They want to fight with their ID at the stupid maintenance tunnel exit, and drive home tired, and wake up five hours later to come to work and do it all over again.

“... sweets?”

They look up to Monty, sight still a little unclear. He looks worried. He looks scared. They don’t think they’ve ever seen him scared. He tentatively takes their hands, prying the fabric away before they rip something.

They stay there, Monty kneeling, Handler sitting, staring at each other. Lost, scared, confused. Neither quite sure what to say.

“I wanna go home,” they eventually settle on. They can see the resolve in Monty crack.

“I know, sweets.” He rubs their knuckles again. They’re disturbed by how little they can feel of it. “I’m so sorry they did this to you.”

They want to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that he has nothing to be sorry for, but the words don’t come to them. So, instead, they sit in silence. Awful, dreadful silence.

Eventually, Monty stands, still holding their hands in his. “You’ve gotta be getting… tired,” he murmurs. “Here, I’ll show you how to get charged.”

His Handler know how. They’ve helped Monty settle in to get charged a million times. But it’s different now. They need to charge. Their battery isn’t running low, they don’t think anyway, but the emotional drain is enough for them to take the carefully offered out. Monty gets them set up, gently explaining things as he goes, like what it’s going to feel like at first and how entering standby will kind of feel like sleeping (at least, what he’s pretty sure sleeping feels like). When everything is said and done, and Monty is sure they’ll be out for a while, he turns to eye the big door that separates his room from the rest of the Pizzaplex.

His curtains are closed, and he’s going to make sure it stays that way. For a long time.

#fnaf #fnaf security breach #montgomery gator #monty fanart #self insert #fnaf monty gator #reader insert #security breach monty #my post #the best part abt this blog is you can see my descent into madness. try n see how many overlaps there r to my tags on the og post (its lots #i imagine the animatronics were programmed to know absolutely Nothing about the Controversies hence monty's denial #which i LOVED writing btw i love knowing that something awful is afoot and the character try to deny it heehee #the reason the pronouns used for anons bot form changes b4 monty hears their voice is bc he's already started accepting it and their voice #basically just seals the deal #ik that the steam in bots releases from back vents + nostrils but i like the imagery of it spewing out of their mouth more #maybe they dont know how to use the back vents yet or something lmao #ive spent SO LONG thinking of all the tiny things that need to change now that only specific parts of their body register touch/have good #traction on slippy surfaces. such as satin jackets #anon went from all of the liquid in their body working to keep them warm to all of the liquid in their body working to keep them cool #yeah monty aint doin ANY shows (willingly) until they can function #AUGH ITS BEEN SO LONG SINCE I'VE WRITTEN BODY HORROR IM RUSTY #this isnt even that heavy on the horror since most of it is montys pov but i had my fun for two whole paragraphs #I WAS GONNA ADD MORE BUT THE WC IS 2269 NICE #yeah i REALLY didnt wanna have to make up and bg characters so we have Management and Corporate thanks guys <3

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nyoxt · 16 days

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Some gangsters by text description for @skullchicken :D

#theyre technically from #shadowrun #so yeah hence the tag)))#digital art #sketch #art #artists on tumblr

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iunctura-arch · 3 months

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KO-FI DONATION DOODLES Donate to me, get a doodle

I didn't really want to make this kind of post, but here it is. I'm doing a doodle donation thing, where every donation gets a sketchy doodle. Doesn't matter what you donate, it'll all be the same type of doodle so I can get them out faster.

The reason behind this is kind of personal, but recently the owner of the house we live in died and everything's been shoved onto us. Originally, we rented but now we have to pay practically everything to continue living here (if the owner's family allows after everything is said and done).

I don't get a lot a month as a streamer. On top of my own bills, I now have to make sure we're stocked on essentials and necessities as well as make sure we don't end up having to scrounge, scrimp and save to afford what we may need/have to get over time. And help with the bills. And make sure we don't find ourselves in a worse situation (aka even more in poverty than we already are).

So yeah. Things have changed, hence why I'm doing this.

You can donate on ko-fi and then message me here either via IM or ask. I'll doodle canon characters and original characters. Even if you just want to donate to help out, that's fine too. I just want to make sure y'all get something in exchange.

If you can't help, could you reblog this to get the word out? I'd appreciate it.

doodle examples under the cut. the coloured one was done before the rest, but colour won't be an option due to how much time it'll take. sorry.

#lilia speaks; ooc #cw begging for help #cw money #cw idiocy #i don't know how to tag this for people who don't want to see it so.#but yeah situation's changed hence the post.#i hate doing this sobs

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daddy-ul · 4 months

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I had asked James to write a bit about what 72 Seasons meant to him. But even before we received that, Lars shared that James did say one thing he thought was particularly interesting, which was “prisoner of childhood.” So Lars was the guy who distilled a lot of what James had to say into a phrase that became extremely powerful for us creatively. It was a brilliant synthesis of all the ideas behind 72 Seasons in three words.

-David Turner about the concept art and design of 72 Seasons

#metallica #72 seasons #james hetfield #lars ulrich #so what!#david turner #(d)jinn all'opera #yeah yeah i got around reading it just now #AND I'M SHARING THIS #bc i am so damn predictable. hence the tag...#jh and lu #an xl kind of friendship #GET YOURSELF A FRIEND WHO LISTENS TO EVERY WORD YOU SAY AND GIVES IT BACK DISTILLED #and let me tell u. jhet is not very verbose so to summarise his concepts... not bad #also this was from an email between james and #dt but ofc Lars also read it? maybe he heard james talking abt? and then of course he hit the nail abt what was the essence for his friend #dont look at me. i am not normal abt this and yall know it well #jinn out #soph. if you see this..... THEM. RIGHT???? /THEM/

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anghraine · 1 year

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A more coherent part of the adaptation+Darcy post I was threatening to release from drafts purgatory:

While I think all adaptations' versions of Darcy are pretty bad at representing Austen's character, though sometimes compelling in their own right, I think the various choices made are all ways of addressing the same problem with the character as written.

It's not a problem in the novel—indeed, I'd say it's a remarkable achievement there—but I think we don't always realize how extremely ambiguous the presentation of Darcy is through the first half of the novel. It's easy to read him as basically hostile because he was when he first appeared and because Elizabeth, our smart, likable POV character, gets stuck in that perception of him for half the book. So it's only on re-reading that most audiences realize Elizabeth drastically misread his real feelings and the original interpretation of his manner is thrown into question, at the very least.

But as I said in the other post, Austen plays fair: it is entirely possible to realize that Elizabeth is mistaken about some things (esp about how he feels towards her), it is possible to realize that particularly observant characters find his expressions and behavior difficult to interpret, it's possible to notice that we are rarely told how he's speaking or smiling, and scenes typically cut off before we can be told. And it's possible to notice the many issues with Wickham's account of him.

But it's also entirely possible to read everything he says and does as Elizabeth does, and the narrative gently encourages us to do so without often committing to actual description that would guide us in those ambiguous scenes. Austen might have, for instance, described his smiles in the Netherfield scenes as contemptuous, polite, or pleasant. But she just repeats that he's smiling while drawing very little attention to the fact and rarely committing to an indication of what his smiles or presentation of dialogue are like. So it's mostly up to us to decide, with the occasional (dubious in some respects) interpretation from Elizabeth.

And we're likely to reach different conclusions on re-reading—the earlier presentation of Darcy rewards re-reading a lot, because a lot of the time, we don't even realize how much we're not being told until the letter or even the Pemberley scenes, where Elizabeth identifies the smile we saw in his earlier scenes as the same one in the painting done during his beloved father's lifetime—making, say, the "contemptuous" reading very unlikely.

Now, getting away with that level of ambiguity and obscuring that the ambiguity is happening in the first place, as Austen manages to do in the novel, is both impressive and a hell of a lot harder in visual form. Not impossible! But if we see and hear him ourselves we're less likely to form judgments shaped by Austen's tricks of narration and Elizabeth's POV, and this typically involves commitment to a particular aspect of his presentation in the novel.

And if you think about it, the four major adaptations of Darcy are essentially committing to some part of his depiction.

Laurence Olivier's Darcy is smiling, witty, and charismatic—which are a part of his personality, but skewed so far out of proportion that he's virtually unrecognizable. And there's no attempt to obscure his place in the narrative as the actual love interest (I assume because duh, it's Laurence Olivier—but it was a pretty unrewarding role for him as written).

David Rintoul's Darcy is (in)famously "robotic"—the 1980 version of him leans into the withdrawn, inexpressive, difficult to read but clearly uncomfortable version of Darcy. The smiles in the earlier part tend to be tight, a matter of form, and/or unconvincing, by contrast to the later Darcy's comportment towards the Gardiners and Elizabeth, esp after the second proposal.

Colin Firth's Darcy is, well—okay, I'm biased because of my intense dislike for the 1995 production, but I do think it's also struggling with the same issue, but responds in the opposite way as the 1980. Where the 1980 tried to replicate the ambiguity in a way that retained Darcy's tendency towards a certain severity and dignity and mostly ended up at expressionless, the 1995 transforms it into visibly intense, sexualized brooding. This is coupled with Elizabeth's perception of Darcy's hostility being much more validated than in the novel; he snaps at her, most of his textual smiles are removed, even his letter is rearranged with an eye to half-dressed angst rather than the subtle charity of the omitted "God bless you", and generally his angst and passion!!! are played up rather than down ("I shall conquer this!!" / the melodramatic pond dive and shift in focus from Elizabeth's shame to Darcy being barely dressed / Darcy being grim in London, etc).

If the 1995 version of Darcy commits to Darcy's behavior being largely how Elizabeth sees it, the 2005 drastically reverses that. Matthew Macfadyen's Darcy is also struggling with passion, but tbh he seems like he's kind of struggling with everything. He's visibly consumed with anxiety, he's obviously shy where Darcy has to explain his discomfort or experience it as a POV character in the novel, he seems sweet despite occasional classism, and at times his arc seems more about learning to relax than anything else. That is, instead of representing Darcy as more or less accurately seen by Elizabeth, it leans into emphasizing the extent of her misunderstanding, with Darcy's behavior both more sympathetic than she sees it and clearly comprehensible if she weren't so biased against him (fwiw, The Lizzie Bennet Diaries also emphasizes Elizabeth's misjudgment to a considerable extent and deals with the ambiguity by keeping him literally offstage).

The point of all this is that there is a core issue of adaptation here—the difficulty of representing subtle novelistic ambiguity while making Darcy emotionally compelling at the same time. Adapted Darcys are often given extra scenes, altered dialogue, or (where described in the novel) altered mannerisms/emotions to try and achieve this. And all lean so hard into the aspect they choose to emphasize that they tend to sacrifice most of the rest of his personality to the interpretation they're committing to, and his feelings for Elizabeth tend to be incredibly obvious to the point that it sometimes strains belief that she wouldn't see them, even with all her investment in not seeing them.

I guess the thing is that I think just stopping with "this is an issue of the different media and can't be represented on film" is boring and underestimates the potential of film as a medium. There are plenty of performances that can only be fully appreciated on re-watching or re-listening to something with a fuller knowledge of what is revealed later. And to some degree, the adapters do have to choose how much they want to incorporate Elizabeth's perception of Darcy vs the bare narrative and what they're willing to give away about him to preserve what seems most important.

These are all active choices with actual significance, IMO. They imply priorities about the production and their production's take on Darcy that are intriguing in a way that gets lost by just giving them a free pass by way of the challenge of the medium.

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serenanymph · 10 months

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writing habits tag

Tagged by @space-writes!

RULES: Bold or color the things that you relate to and then tag some people to play.

I write: daily | most days | a few times a week | a few times a month | random

I tend to write scenes: in chronological order with no skipping | mostly in order but with some filler/skipping | whatever scene I feel like | who knows what’s gonna come out

When I take a break from writing, it usually lasts: a few days | a few weeks | a few months | it’s kind of random

Gently tagging @e-klair, @cream-and-tea, @scroll-of-aves and @squarebracket-trick for this!

#writeblr community #tag game #my posts #okay so my writing habits are like absolutely wild actually #back in march-may I had this insane streak where I wrote every day #I think I kept up the 1k streak for around two weeks or so and the writing streak for 70 days #even when I was sick and running a fever #and THEN #I got whammied by covid and burnout in one go #I still have not picked the streak back up #so yeah my writing times is either daily or a few times a month and I either write 1k per sitting or 1 sentence #hence the randomness #there is literally No In-Between

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