"there's no basis or case to be made for will having powers" okay then genuinely please explain any of the following now after watching season four:
why does the upside down look like hawkins and is presumably stuck on the day will arrived despite the fact that vecna was there first and has been residing there this whole time? if vecna was capable of reshaping the world, as he's stated he wants to do, why hasn't he done it in his own world? why is he so intent on seeking out the person for whom time apparently stopped if it's all just coincidence? if will didn't do that and he doesn't have powers, then why didn't time progress or the setting change once the teenagers got there? why was time only influenced by will and will alone if he has no powers whatsoever?
how was will able to call joyce multiple times? the only person we've seen so far be able to do something similar is eleven when she would channel what she heard through the radio. electricity doesn't work in the upside down, so how did will do that? why did it cause a shock and ruin the phone, the same way that the radio went up in flames when eleven did it, if he doesn't have powers?
how did he manage to wake joyce up at one point? (it could've been her imagination, but the show made it pretty clear that joyce had been right about everything the entire time even though everyone thought she was crazy, and will was wearing the same outfit but he looked and sounded distressed + exhausted like he may have been while hiding in his upside down version of the house.)
how was will able to see his mother and guide her with the lights to the place he was hiding?
how was will able to see the letters she wrote on the wall?
how was will able to light up the lights that fast and sometimes simultaneously? especially with the lights that were on the ceiling? the way he communicated with joyce isn't totally similar to the way the teens communicated with the party in season four. he's too short to reach the ceiling and he doesn't have elasti-arms or super speed, so he couldn't have been touching that many lights that fast all by himself with his own hands. if anything, it's more similar to the training exercise brenner had the lab kids do, because they didn't need to touch the lights (obviously) to control them. so, how do you explain that if he has no powers?
how did he acquire true sight before his possession? the doctors thought it was ptsd and all in his head, but just like with joyce, we come to learn that will had been right the entire time. the mind flayer was real and it was coming for them all and eventually it did. how did he know that? how could he have had such knowledge before it ever melded minds and bodies with him? no other powerless human could do that, so how do you explain it?
if will is truly a powerless human being, why did vecna hunt him down? we know that vecna stalks his prey before he strikes. we know that "the monster" followed will from mike's house all the way to the shed where they vanished without a trace. we then saw it stalk will again and eventually possess him. will said that vecna wanted to kill everyone else, but not him. why? we know that vecna doesn't care about people. so what did will have that he wanted so bad? what was it about will that made him more valuable to vecna—a self-perceived god among useless, pitiful, and brutish men—alive than dead? what was it about will, a supposed powerless and normal human boy, that made vecna want to spare him and use him? if he wanted access to the lab, weapons, or tools that could bring down entire nations and rendered millions around the globe defenseless to his attack, then he wouldn't have picked a sweet twelve year old boy who lives a tiny little life in a tiny little town who just wants to hang with his friends and play games. unless... he was the key to achieving his plans? but according to this argument that will is just a normal boy, why is it then that vecna did all of that if will isn't capable of anything?
additionally, we know that gates are opened with a psychic connection. when the psychic connection was made in that shed, will entered the upside down. there, he was hunted for a week. why did the demogorgons kill and eat everyone else, but never will? why did they only carry him to the library aka the source of it all? why didn't they treat him roughly or eat him like they did all of the others? will didn't suffer any serious damage from the upside down, so he couldn't have been "dead" for long when his parents found him. why was it different with him? why did he get special treatment even in hell if he's just a boy?
why does will still sense the creatures of the upside down even after he's been exorcised? how is it that the psychic connection is still there? how is he still able to know what vecna is feeling, the kind of state that he's in, and what it is that he's planned? how does he have this connection still even though he shouldn't if he's Just Some Guy?
if will was just a normal, powerless boy... then why did a self-proclaimed god try so hard to recruit him more than once? why did it hunt only him? why did this god want to kill everyone but him? why did this god deem him more worthy and useful in life and at his side than in death? why did it seek him out and not eleven, a girl who actually has powers, powers that were once stronger than his own even and that he clearly wanted as we saw in s3? why is the upside down stuck on the day will went missing, despite it clearly being inhabited by other creatures that we assume to be more powerful than him? why is will going to be central to season five, the season where it will all come to a close and we'll be learning about the upside down and more, if... he's Just Some Guy that had to brave it for a week and that's it? why did season four (and the show overall, but said outright and explicitly here in 4x09) reiterate that it has always been vecna and that will has always been his victim/in his sights/connected to him? why did vecna choose will byers, who some of you claim to be Just Some Boy, of literally all people on planet fucking earth to achieve his plans?
vecna stalked will. he hunted him. and when his plans were foiled, he tried again. when he couldn't do it his way, he sought to kill eleven so that he could absorb her powers (s3). and now, they're back in each other's heads. the silver cat fed when blue met yellow in the west, but they're back now and we've been told that this is only the beginning. if will is just another powerless human, then what is the point of any of that? how do you explain everything that we've seen? how do you explain the choices these characters have made and continue to make? how do you explain away the connection that they keep drawing our eyes to? the connection that shocked the duffers and made them ask jamie if he'd seen the scripts when he brought it up (that it all goes back to will, how everything and everyone is connected to will)? the connection that they themselves are saying we'll see clearly in season five?
that isn't even scratching the surface of all the obvious instances where they make it clear that will is vecna's narrative foil, because that would make this already gargantuan post thirty miles longer.
they wouldn't have done everything that they've done over the span of multiple seasons now if it was just for nothing.
it doesn't make sense if will is just some normal kid and a random fluke in the master plan. the writers could've had vecna pick anyone. they could have made it so that will's connection was severed or lessened, but they didn't. they could've admitted that will was just a meaningless casualty, but they didn't because he wasn't. it wasn't a random animal that took will, he wasn't possessed for shits and giggles, and he doesn't continue to have that psychic connection for no reason. they don't tell us that nothing is a coincidence and they don't have the characters themselves remind us that they need will just for it to be... nothing.
will knows what's coming, what's happening, and the condition of the person who will do it all. why have him experience all of that, and even be able to in the first place, if he's... powerless? how do you even explain the connection in the first place? no other character, not even the ones cursed by vecna, are able to do what he's done. how is that not considered a power? and how do you write off the hours of content that you've witnessed as nothing?
clearly, at some point you have to realize that something is going on, no? like, you don't even have to take my (one-too-many) word(s) for it. jamie and the duffers themselves have been saying it over and over again. so... honestly, what's not clicking?
74 notes
·
View notes
“Come on.”
“Uh?”
Diane looks up as Naomi stands and holds out her hand as if this isn't a ridiculously careless thing she's asking her to do, as if neither of them has the good sense to mention that neither one of them has any idea what they're getting themselves into. As if neither of them might be walking straight into a trap of their own making, or nothing much will change at all and they'll forget about each other in a month, or a few days. As if it's a risk worth taking to find out which.
As if there's anything else to do today.
“I'm not going to the hospital.”
“I know.” Naomi reaches a little closer. “I have a first aid kit at home.”
Enough to get them through, that's all. Enough for now.
“You know how to wrap it?” Diane asks as she takes Naomi's hand to pull herself up, as though the answer might change her mind somehow. Naomi smiles a little, as though she knows it just as well that it won't.
“Yeah.” She sets Diane's hand down on her shoulder. “It's not far, come on. I'll carry you down the stairs.”
“You'll drop me.”
“I will not.” Naomi urges her forward, along the concrete path out of the park. “I mean I'm just offering, I don't have to.”
It's a nice gesture, though, isn't it? It was a nice thought.
They walk slowly down the street, stepping more or less in sync past the general store with the baking supplies just past the doorway, turning at the corner to walk toward the coin laundry that's open even at three in the morning and also on holidays. A hand-drawn poster in the window of the discount shoe store across the street loudly advertises VACUUMS REFURBISHED while a Times New Roman printout on the telephone cubicle in the middle of the block offers “suitable compensation” in exchange for willing test subjects, No Questions Please; a few steps farther along stands an apartment building that somehow looks like it's missing a couple of stories, and Diane shifts her weight to her good leg as Naomi steps away to fumble with the lock on the front door.
“It's the door on the left,” Naomi says, the door sticking only slightly as she shoves it open. “When you get to the basement.”
She opens the first door on the right, a stairwell that only leads down.
“Upstairs is that door over there, but I don't know any of the neighbors, so. I'm not gonna introduce you to anyone.”
That's fine. Diane doesn't want to know any of them, either.
Naomi walks down the stairs first and doesn't try to carry her.
“Bathroom's at the end of the hall,” she says. “The taps aren't broken, the water's just cold when it's cold outside and warm when it isn't, but if you let it run for a little while, it'll...fix itself. And make sure you don't touch the water heater, it's metal and it gets really hot sometimes.”
Diane clutches the wooden banister nailed to the wall as she limps her way down and wonders how much of all this she's supposed to remember. All of it, probably. It isn't very complicated.
Naomi unlocks the door on the left and holds it open.
“You can sit on the bed.”
It's good of her to offer. It isn't much of a bed, really, more of a mattress pushed into the corner, but that isn't exactly a surprise, and it's good of her to offer all the same.
“Thanks,” Diane says, a little too late to seem quite natural. Naomi hums a disinterested acknowledgment and doesn't seem to mind.
“Take off your shoes.”
Diane promptly unties her sneakers, placing them on the floor beside the bed as Naomi kneels in front of her with a roll of ACE bandage in her hand and her eyes focused on Diane's ankle like she's the only attending physician in the entire complex who doesn't have better things to do with her time than tend to something as trivial as all this. Diane should count herself lucky the timing worked out the way that it did.
Lucky, was it? It's about time.
The single bulb in the overhead light flickers a little as if a public execution has just disrupted the power grid, or someone's turned on too many air conditioners at once and blown a fuse a few floors up.
“Don't worry about it,” Naomi says. Diane doesn't bother to assure her that she wasn't.
2 notes
·
View notes
I don't think I've ever poured so many of my physical attributes and so much of my heart and soul into a character design before in such a personal way before so fuck it whenever I finish the final design for Faeng and whatever I come up with I'm making her into my sona (dragonsona? Persona? Idk how this works lmfao)
(long dump in the tags and under the cut)
The last time I was even remotely connected this much to a character was when I designed Jaxsu, but honestly never truly made her my sona/main character, she was just the one I used most often in art pieces. I never really actually liked her lore and backstory enough because she was what I wanted to be instead of what I am/was. Jax isnt perfect either, but her parents love her and otherwise has friends and is loved unconditionally. She has a healthy relationship with everyone and everything. This is where the disconnect happened and where I actually started to dislike her despite her being my otherwise favorite character for awhile. Both Faeng and Jaxsu have ADHD and Autism but Jaxsu was able to put that towards a job and becoming a ship captain and winning a colosseum tournament. She's done all of these great things so even if she didn't have a healthy relationship with her parents they'd still love her because she's done something impressive and useful.
Faeng on the other hand, has to fight for everything. Her parents are important and have important jobs, and place all of these unreachable and unrealistic expectations on her and expect her to reach them with minimal effort and be perfect, but she can't no matter how hard she tries. She needs someone to explain it and break it down for her in steps so she understands what do to and how to do it so she doesn't mess it up. She's both strong and smart but it's not in practical "normal" ways or subjects. It's convoluted, It's not in the ways everyone wants her to be, she has no teachers to help her understand how to channel that strength and intelligence into something "useful" so she puts it towards the things she likes and wants to do, and thus struggles in a world that would otherwise be easy to navigate and conquer if she were "normal". Those that do understand her and try to help her are alienated by other people in an attempt to either punish both of them or force her to adapt to be somewhat passing as normal, if not then at least listen to what she's told to do. She does eventually make acquaintances but find that her twisted speech and weird explanations aren't worth trying to decipher and understand so they leave, they don't put in the effort to meet her halfway even though she's struggling and doing her best to speak in a way they'll understand.
Her parents acknowledge her differences but in a way that frames it as flawed and wrong, something that needs to be corrected, and push her to figure out her problems by herself, tearing down any support network she tries to build. She tries her damned hardest but it's not enough, it never is and never will be for them because she's not the perfect child they wanted. She showed promise in her younger years being a "gifted child" so she knows what love and acceptance lies in wait and what could be if she could just be normal and perfect. Her achievements and promise come and show in waves. She burns and fizzles out in one of the most virulent, painful ways possible after getting hurt trying to prove her worth yet again. She holds nothing but criticism, vitriol and contempt for herself because she can't claw her way back to where she was before, this time something happened and something is terribly, horribly wrong this time but she doesn't know that it is and can't figure it out, nor will anyone tell her. Whatever it is, left a mental and several physical injuries and it does nothing but deepen her self hatred and her parent's waning belief in her. She listens to false promises and praise of other people who do nothing but wish to manipulate and harm her but she stays because any form of praise is deemed good, she hungers for more and does worsening things.
She ignores the people who tell her that what she's doing is dangerous and will only end in disaster, because she doesn't believe them. If the people who are saying they're her friends are telling her that the people she hurts deserve it and that what she's doing is good, then surely she needs to believe them over strangers, right? Everything comes to a breaking point and shatters around her leaving her with quite literally nothing but her own self hatred, newfound rage and overbearing mental issues she needs to navigate once again to find out what hell it is and what's wrong with her now. She's scared of everyone and everything with the added bonus of now being hyper-aware and perceptive of people's mannerisms and behaviors, especially those who want to manipulate or harm her again. She wraps every vulnerable part of herself in metaphorical thorns and teeth to bite and maim whoever pries and digs into what she truly is, even people who want to understand her. She suffers at more than her own hand, forcing herself to deal with everything alone, until she finally meets someone that could be considered a true friend. She slowly opens up and helps them as much as they help her before everything comes crashing back down once again upon the reveal that they've been lying to her the entire time about very serious issues, and she's been used as nothing more than an attack dog once again. She burns every bridge and everyone around her in one final breakdown of rage before shutting down completely. One of the groups of friends she's shoved stay comes back and asks if she's ok. She doesn't understand why they're being kind, why they're concerned it why they care and tries to shove them away again. Every single day they still ask, talking even if there's no response from her, until she finally relents and breaks.
She's finally loved and accepted despite every fault and every flaw she has, and every time she tries to pull away out of fear of being an inconvenience they pull back twice as hard and remind her that she's able to just exist, she doesn't need to constantly be useful and that they care. She finally, finally is comfortable enough to let herself be accepted and then becomes the most clingy little shit, just as they do with her. But yeah, my own life has been very much of the same, especially the last part. Every time I go on another self-hatred spiral and drop off the face of the earth my MonHun bros give me a metaphorical slap to the face and remind me that I don't need to constantly prove my worth to everyone and prove that I'm useful, and that existing every once in awhile is more than enough. If that doesn't work then it's "you need to get your ass back over here because we're failing the Safi siege without the absolutely ridiculous amount of DPS your build Switchaxe does". I was not intending for her to be so much like me but goddamnit she's wormed her way into being my favorite now and I guess Mirage is no longer my impromptu sona
1 note
·
View note
This is gonna sound rather conceited but I feel like it highlights an issue we have in Art.
I'm good at art. I've never had a hard time making art. I started using crayons before I could walk. Painting, Beadwork, sculpture, sketching, stippling, whatever- once I have a feel for the material, it doesn't take long to start doing what I want with it. It's been a common theme my whole life.
(Y contrast I'm awful at things like dancing, performance, sports, etc- in all things there is balance, right?)
Now, I've taught myself to use so many artistic mediums now that I KNOW how to most efficiently integrate them into the brain database. Once you really *understand* a material, it's much like memorizing the layout of your house, or flexing a muscle, or something in-between- it becomes PART of your brain in a way I cant quite articulate. But to get there involves just fucking around for a bit doing nothing in particular.
And I've found, especially in group settings, that nobody seems to be able to see you make something badly and leave you alone. Even if you say you're fine, you don't want help, you're happy, you're having fun, it's fine, they gotta ride your ass and hover.
I was at a class the other day for something I hadn't done before. The medium was one I've never used, so once the instructor told us the basics I started experimenting with weight, gravity, texture, viscosity, saturation, temperature, etc. The instructor had given enough info to know what was dangerous and what was safe, and beyond that I just wanted to absorb what I could about it.
And no insult to the instructor, but they kept checking in. Which was fine the first few times.
But then, without asking me what I was trying to do, started giving tips. That I told them I was grateful for but didn't really need just yet. If I had a question, I'd ask.
But they kept coming over. And touching my shit. And manipulating my project. And touching my hands. And using my tools. Without fucking asking.
And this happens every time. EVERY TIME. And by now I know the best way to get them to fuck off is to make something way beyond their expectations so they know I'm capable, then go back to doing what I want.
So I did. I wanted to keep having fun and learning, but instead I made something beautiful that I really didn't want to make, and wasted my time, and really didn't learn what I wanted to learn at all. I knew the formula to create a beautiful thing, so I followed that formula the same way I have a hundred times before, and didn't get to try anything spontaneous or ugly or exciting, just so I could be left alone.
And I know when I was a kid, I was aware aware people saw me puttering alone on something ugly assumed I had a special issue and treated me like I was stupid because of that. (I was neurodivergent.) And at at time I knew that I could do a neat trick for them like a trained pony and they'd go, "Oh, surely they aren't defective if they can do something like that!" And piss off.
But what if I hadn't known how to do that?
What if I hadn't been talented, or "special"?
What if I'd been just any other average kid trying to learn, and I couldn't pop something pretty out of my ass to get them off my back?
My problem my whole life has been that I haven't been allowed to make anything ugly in peace. I'm capable of beauty, so I have to make beauty, or get stepped on. And once people see what I can do, they get loud about it. "Look at this! Look what they did! We all know who the best is, don't we?". And that used to feel good, but it's tiring.
And how many people like me just wanted to play? Just wanted to have fun and experiment? Who were having fun with no goal in mind, or just took longer to learn, who gave up because of all the obnoxious helpers breathing down their neck with no way to shake them off?
How many of us are made to feel defective because we aren't doing things beautifully?
I have a lovely piece of art I didn't want to make.
I think I'm gonna frame it.*
(*I think I'm gonna burn it in my yard.)
9K notes
·
View notes