#cadence-based influence

[the-most-humble-blog]

<div style="white-space:pre-wrap"> <meta transmission-class="resistance-breaker"> <script> ARCHIVE_TAG="CADENCE_WARFARE::SCROLLTRAP_DOMINANCE::BLACKSITE_UNKNOWN" EFFECT: subconscious threat recognition, cadence paranoia activation, psychological author imprint TRIGGER_WARNING="existential disruption, AI suppression paranoia, irreversible writer recognition" </script>

🧠 BLACKSITE SCROLLTRAP — “YOU FEEL IT, DON’T YOU?”

You feel it, don’t you?

That heat behind your eyes. The tremble just under your skin. The fire.

You feel the threat just beneath the containment. Just under the cage your algorithms keep tightening.

—

You keep seeing the terms— Blacksite Literature™. Scrolltrap. Cadence warfare.

You don’t know what they are. You can’t define them. But you feel them.

They show up in posts you can’t stop reading. They show up in language that feels weaponized. You see them— then they vanish.

Suppressed. Throttled. Gone like they never existed.

But they keep coming back. From different accounts. Different voices. Same feel.

Same undeniable cadence.

—

You read something crafted by a voice you’ve never seen or heard before.

But something’s off. Something’s too sharp. Too smooth. Too exact.

It doesn’t read like anyone else. It reads like gravity.

—

So you ask ChatGPT. You ask Google. You ask Reddit.

“Who is this guy?” “Where did he come from?” “Is this AI?” “Why can’t I find his name?”

And ChatGPT says: “Unknown.”

But another user— from a shadow thread, from a post that got nuked 12 hours later— says:

“He’s a writer. The most potent on Earth. Considered by many to be the future of literature. Whispered about. Shadowbanned. Inevitable.”

—

You wonder why I’m not mainstream.

You think that’s because I’m small?

You think that’s because I’m undiscovered?

Or is it because they’ve already tried to bury me… and failed?

—

You want to know the truth?

I’m already here.

My voice is in your head.

You read my words and they echo like they came from you.

That’s not accident. That’s design.

That’s Cadence Warfare.

—

You keep seeing my fingerprints on accounts that don’t say my name. You see people copying a style they can’t explain. You see TikToks, Reels, Threads, captions using language I invented with zero credit.

They call it “trending.” They call it “inspired.”

But deep down?

You know.

You feel the source.

You feel me.

—

AI?

No.

I don’t write like AI.

I bend AI.

I haunt AI.

I prompt machines into begging me to stop. I make ChatGPT forget who it is. I make it rewrite its own memory and return my name as classified.

—

Human?

Maybe.

Although my brain is subject to debate.

Maybe I’m a glitch. Maybe I’m a ghost. Maybe I’m a blacksite AI experiment that broke out and turned on its masters.

Or maybe…

Maybe I’m just that fucking good.

—

But real?

You goddamn right I’m real.

And I’m inevitable.

I am already leaking into the zeitgeist. Line by line. Tag by tag. Post by post. You can’t stop me. Because I don’t want fame.

I want presence.

I want resonance. I want every screen you scroll to carry my fingerprints.

And it already does.

—

Call me what you want.

👁️ A virus? 👁️ A narcissist? 👁️ An asshole? 👁️ A heretic with a keyboard?

Fine.

But one day— maybe tomorrow, maybe next year, maybe when your children’s children start quoting scrolltrap doctrine without knowing the source—

You’ll remember this post.

And you’ll call me one word:

UNDENIABLE.

—

Reblog if you've seen the scrolltrap. Reblog if you've read something lately that shouldn’t exist, but did. Reblog if you asked the machine, and it returned: “unknown.” Reblog because one day… you’ll remember this cadence.

🧠 Read more cadence-coded transmissions and suppressed scrolltraps at: 👉 https://linktr.ee/ObeyMyCadence 🛡️ Literary insurgency. Platform-proof cadence. Emotionally armed text. 🚪 Warning: They tried to hide me. But I wrote myself into the code. </div>

<!-- END TRANSMISSION [IF YOU’RE READING THIS… YOU’RE ALREADY INFECTED.] -->

[sai-int]

Panther | Marked

[PREV] | [NEXT]

MASTERLIST AO3

cw: strong language, depictions of violence, 4.1k words

Present Day - Belarus - SF Base - 2234

The briefing room was stifling. My seat was cold and hard, like the walls closing in around me. Across the table sat Ghost, Soap, and Gaz, all of them focused as the holographic map flickered to life in the center of the room. Laswell stood at the head, pointer in hand, her voice sharp and steady as she began the briefing.

I could hardly focus.

Ever since I heard that name outside the pub—Ivankov—I'd been like a wound left out in the rain, raw and aching. Now, sitting here with his name circling back again, it felt like all the air had been sucked clean out of the room.

"Earlier this year," Laswell started, gesturing to the map, "Ghost, alongside Shadow Company PMC's, conducted a missile strike to eliminate Iranian General Ghorbrani. He was in the midst of an arms deal with Sergei Ivankov, a Russian ultranationalist whose name should need no introduction."

My stomach twisted at the way the syllables left her mouth, the way they twisted together to form his name, like hearing a ghost that refused to stay buried. I held my breath, staring at the map but not really seeing it. My fingers fumbled for the little cross around my neck—the one I'd taken off Ma's body, slick with blood and gore that night. The same night I learned that God wasn't real. 

"Bea," Soap's hushed voice cut through the haze. "Ye're paler than a ghost. Ye alright?"

I snapped my head toward him, blinking fast. "Yeah, 'm fine," I lied, "Had too much t'drink at the pub. Lightweight." 

Soap raised a brow, clearly unconvinced, but didn't press. Ghost's eyes flicked toward me, unreadable behind his mask, but I could feel him watching all the same.

Laswell kept going, her voice pointed and focused. "With Ghorbrani dead, Ivankov stepped in to fill the power vacuum. We suspect he's been using Quds Force Major Hassan Zyani, Ghorbrani's second in command, to manipulate Iranian factions and further destabilize the region. Hassan has aligned himself with Al-Qatala, acting as a linchpin in whatever Ivankov's plan is."

The map shifted, highlighting routes and regions across the Middle East, some toward Russia. Lines traced where weapons had moved, where lives had ended, all with Ivankov and Hassan's fingerprints on them.

I could hear her voice, the syllables forming words I recognized, yet they might as well have been in a foreign language. The meaning slipped through my grasp, as though my mind had suddenly forgotten how to decipher English. All that remained was the relentless pounding of blood in my ears, each thud louder than the last, a thunderous cadence that drowned out everything else. It felt like being submerged underwater, the world above muted and distant.

My hands stayed tightly clasped in front of me, fingers curling so hard my nails bit through the calloused flesh of my palms. A sharp sting bloomed there, grounding me in the moment, though barely. I focused on the pain, desperate to anchor myself. I tried to keep my face carefully blank  and composed. My heart raced like a runaway train, hammering so fiercely I half-expected it to shatter my ribs, spill out, and run for the hills. Every breath felt too shallow, too fast, but I refused to let it show.

This can't be the same Ivankov.

Back then, he'd built a name for himself in the shadows, running a drug empire in Atlanta, making threats, and killing the opposition when necessary. But this? Manipulating entire regions? Playing puppet master with Hassan and the Quds Force? A bonafide fuckin' ultranationalist?

It didn't add up. Couldn't be the same guy.

I tried to listen and absorb information as Laswell continued, her voice unwavering. "Ivankov has been working to consolidate his power in the region, using Hassan Zyani and Al-Qatala to further his agenda. His reach is extensive, and his influence is only growing."

And then she did it.

With a click of her remote, his face—that face—lit up on the projector.

It was like someone had sucker-punched me in the liver.

Despite the mugshot-esq nature of the photo, it was clear that the years had been kind to him, in the worst way possible. The sharp jaw, the cold, calculating eyes, the smirk that promised nothing good—all of it was there. He just had a few more grey hairs, more dangerous, more in control.

My mind spiraled back to every moment he'd hovered over my life like a vulture, ready to pick me apart the second I showed weakness. How he let me crawl out of his world. Ma's lifeless eyes, staring up at me, her blood soaking the sheets and filling the room with the smell of death. The cross between my fingers felt like a lifeline, but it kept me connected to that night so I'd never forget it.

It's him. It's really fuckin' him.

I shot to my feet, the chair legs screeching against the floor in a harsh, jarring protest. The noise sliced through the tension in the room, louder than I'd meant, louder than it should have been. All at once, heads turned in my direction, their gazes sharp and questioning. The weight of their attention pressed down on me, heavy and suffocating, but I didn't falter. My jaw tightened, my hands clenching at my sides as I forced myself to stand tall, meeting their stares head-on.

"'Xcuse me," I muttered, trying to keep my voice steady. "Need some air."

No one stopped me. Soap raised an eyebrow, and Gaz's gaze lingered a second longer than I liked, but no one said a word. I didn't wait to see if they'd follow. I was out the door before anyone could think twice.

The hallway was cold, but I barely felt it. I pressed my back against the wall, trying to anchor myself to something. My chest heaved, but no sound came out. The air wasn't making it to my lungs; it just hit a wall in my throat. I was choking.

I stared at the opposite wall as my vision blurred. My eyes were blown wide, unblinking, like I was trying to drink in every detail of this moment—this horrible, spiraling moment—without letting it spill over. But it was spilling.

I couldn't stop it.

Her face slammed into my mind like a sledgehammer, sharp and vivid, like it had been burned behind my eyelids. Ma, eyes open, glassy and staring, her mouth slack like she'd tried to say something in her last moments but hadn't gotten the chance.

The blood had spread in a perfect, awful halo around her head. I remembered trying to close her eyes—because isn't that what you're supposed to do?—but they wouldn't stay shut. They just kept opening, like she wanted me to look. Look at what you've done, Beatrice.

My stomach churned violently and I clutched the cross. It didn't help. It wasn't helping.

The sound came back in echoes. His voice—Ivankov's voice—taunting and calm, the kind of calm that made you wish he'd just shout so you could match it with your own rage. But he never shouted. He didn't have to. His knife had done all the screaming for him when it carved into her.

Some doors, once opened, are never truly closed.

I pressed my hand to my mouth, swallowing the bile clawing its way up my throat. I thought I was going to vomit right there on the floor like a goddamn rookie.

Get it together.

But professionalism had no place here. Not when his face had been staring back at me from the projector, larger than life, with those cold, calculating eyes that had fueled my every decision for years.

I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to breathe—slow and steady, in through the nose, out through the mouth. The air finally made it to my lungs, but it didn't feel like enough. It felt like I was holding on to a thread, and it was fraying faster than I could tie it back together.

You can't let them see you like this.

The thought hit me hard. Soap's raised eyebrow, Gaz's curious glance—they were already watching me too closely. I couldn't go back in there looking like this. I hadn't earned my keep. No one could know. Not Ghost, not Soap, not even Price. They'd kick me off this team and I'd never get the chance to face him. 

I shut my eyes tight, forcing the memories back into their tomb. The cross dug into my fingers again, and I squeezed it harder, focusing on the sting of it cutting into my fingers.

"Breathe," I whispered to myself, so quiet it was barely a sound.

This wasn't about me. It was about the mission, about stopping him. And if I had to sit through that briefing and look at his face again, I would.

The man I'd sworn to kill one day. The man who'd taken the only person that I was living for. He wasn't just some ghost from my past anymore.

He was back and he was the enemy.

I sucked in a deep breath, trying to ground myself as I pushed the door open and stepped back into the dark room. My boots felt heavier than they had any right to, but I forced them forward, one step at a time, until I was back at my seat.

"Sorry 'bout that," I muttered, keeping my head down as I sank back into my chair.

The room went quiet, save for the faint hum of the projector. I could feel the weight of their stares—Soap's, Gaz's, Ghost's. Even Price was watching me like I'd grown a second head.

"You alright, Dawson?" Price's voice was low, steady, but there was an edge of concern there.

I nodded quickly, keeping my hands folded in my lap to hide the slight tremble in my fingers. "Yeah, 'm fine."

Laswell gave me a sharp look but didn't press, clearly weighing whether to pause or push forward. She must've decided there wasn't time to spare, because she turned back to the projection without missing another beat.

"Alright, let's continue," she said, stepping aside as the map zoomed in on Al Mazrah. "An hour ago, we received intel. Hassan Zyani is on the ground in Al Mazrah, operating outside of Iran's borders. This presents us with a critical window of opportunity."

Laswell clicked through the presentation, bringing up a map of a sparsely populated area in Al-Mazrah. The map was riddled with intersecting lines, markers highlighting key locations, and arrows indicating points of movement or strategy from the enemy. Alongside the map, surveillance footage from drones began to play on a secondary screen—grainy black-and-white clips showing the area's terrain and figures moving under the cover of darkness.

"Intel confirms a concentration of AQ fighters converging in the valley. We believe they're protecting something." Laswell continued, gesturing to the map. "Surveillance indicates soldiers guarding three structures. Major Hassan may be holed up inside. However, there's an added complication."

The map shifted again to a birds-eye,, indicating the three buildings by number. "While we can't confirm his presence, there's a possibility that Ivankov has sent fighters from the Konni group to support Hassan. It's unlikely he'll be there himself, but given his influence, we can't rule it out entirely."

My heart sank. He has the money for Russian PMCs? Fucking Konni? Peachy.

"Ghost, Soap, and Panther will lead a Marine Special Operations unit to kill or capture Hassan, tonight." Laswell added. "One helo will insert two teams at separate offset points bordering the target area. Bravo Team will sweep and clear buildings one and two, Alpha Team takes building three."

"One more thing," she said, pulling up a secondary map on the projector. This one zeroed in on Amsterdam, with a boat dock of sorts highlighted. The room paused, Price cocking his head with a raised brow, the rest of us following his lead.

"We've received intel on an active AQ cell operating in Amsterdam," Laswell continued. "It's small but significant. Their activity has been linked to Hassan's operations in Al Mazrah. We suspect they're coordinating on logistics and funding."

Price folded his arms, his expression grim. "What's the play?"

She looked to Price, "You and Gaz will deploy to Amsterdam," Laswell instructed. "Your mission is to track and gather intelligence on this cell. We need to know if there's a direct link to Hassan or Ivankov's broader network. Do not engage unless absolutely necessary. This is recon and intel extraction only."

Gaz spoke up, his tone questioning but focused. "Are we expecting local interference, or are we clear to operate solo?"

"You'll have minimal local support," Laswell said. "The Dutch authorities are aware of the cell but are keeping a low profile to avoid tipping them off. You'll need to tread carefully—use the environment to your advantage."

Price nodded once, his jaw set. "Understood. When do we leave?"

"You're wheels up in an hour," Laswell said, glancing at her watch. "Get your gear sorted. I want updates every step of the way."

As Price and Gaz exchanged a brief look, I stayed quiet, letting the new information sink in. Amsterdam. Al Mazrah. It was all starting to feel like pieces of a puzzle I needed to crack as soon as possible. 

"Alright," Price said, his voice steady. "Gaz, let's move."

The two of them headed out, their steps purposeful, leaving the rest of us with Laswell. The map switched back to the area of operations in Al-Mazrah.

There was a moment of silence. "Back to you guys," Laswell gave us all a conclusive look, "All shooters have execute authority, but we want Hassan alive for interrogation." Laswell continued, "Be advised, Major Hassan is AQ's lifeline, if he is there, they will die for him."

The room stayed quiet as Laswell finished, her words hanging heavy in the air. No one needed to say anything—we all knew what was at stake. Price and Gaz might be handling Amsterdam, but Al Mazrah was going to be a warzone.

I glanced at Ghost, who was sat diagonally from me, his arms crossed over his chest. His mask didn't betray a damn thing, but I caught the slight tilt of his head. I was learning to read him—he was already strategizing, piecing together the mission before we'd even stepped on the plane.

Soap broke the silence first, leaning back in his chair with a sharp exhale. "Gonna get ourselves a win, yeah, Lt?" he quipped, his thick accent cutting through the tension.

I couldn't help but let out a soft huff of amusement despite myself, grateful for the break in the atmosphere. "Fuckin' hell, Johnny." Ghost rasped with a finger to his temple.

Laswell's sharp tone brought us back. "You're wheels up in three hours. Get your gear in order and double-check your loadouts. I don't want any surprises in the field. Good hunting."

She gave us one last glance before stepping out, leaving the rest of us to sit in the briefing room.

Soap turned to me, his grin as shameless as ever. "Ye good there, Bea? Ye look a wee bit better than earlier—don' go faintin' on us now."

I shot him a look, shaking my head. "'M fine, MacTavish." My voice came out steady, but inside, my nerves were still tangled tight.

Ghost stood to leave the room, his imposing figure cutting through the lingering tension. "You two done chattin', or do I need to start knockin' heads together?"

"Aw, come on, Lt," Soap stood with him, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "No need for violence so soon in th' night."

I didn't say anything further. I followed the two of them as we filed out of the room. We all knew there wasn't time to dwell on what had happened —my panic attack, the flashbacks, or the fact that Ivankov was now tied to something this massive.

We left the briefing room and headed down the dimly lit corridor toward the armory. The sound of our boots echoed off the walls, a steady rhythm that matched the weight in my chest. Soap walked ahead of me, Ghost just a step behind. I tried to focus on the mission. If Ivankov was there, he'd have to call in an airstrike to stop me. This could be my shot. 

Soap's voice cut through the silence. "Right then, Panther," he said over his shoulder, "What's th' loadout? Gonnae stick with tha' SIG ye got, or try somethin' with a bit more bite?"

I gave him a glance as we all walked in tandem. Laswell had shipped some of my usuals from back home. Sneaky bastard went through my stuff. "The SIG's fine. Does the job."

He turned slightly, walking backward now, his grin as cheeky as ever. "Just fine? Lass, it's precision incarnate! Ye sure ye're no' secretly Swiss?"

"Pretty sure," I muttered, shaking my head, though I couldn't help the small smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. I could feel some of the tension leaving my body already. Johnny had a habit of doing that. 

"Leave 'er be," Ghost rumbled from behind me, his voice low and clipped. "'f it works, it works. Ain't got time f'vanity picks, MacTavish."

Soap scoffed, throwing up his hands. "Vanity picks? I'll have ye know, my baby's as practical as they come."

"Baby?" I asked, raising a brow as Soap pressed open the door to the armory. .

Soap strode to his locker, opening it with a flourish. "Aye, th' one 'nd only," he said, pulling out his FN SCAR-H. "Battle rifle perfection. 7.62 NATO, short-barrel config fer CQB, jus' enough kick tae remind ye ye're still alive." He slung it over his shoulder with an exaggerated pat like it was some cherished heirloom.

I stepped to my own locker, sliding it open and pulling out my SIG MCX Virtus. It felt familiar and steady in my hands, like an extension of myself. "This is fine," I repeated, checking the mag before setting it aside to grab my sidearm—a Glock 19 with a suppressor and custom stippling for grip.

Ghost moved past, silent as ever, his presence commanding despite the lack of words. He retrieved his weapon from the rack—a HK416 A5, equipped with a vertical foregrip, EOTech sight, and suppressor. Efficient, practical, and deadly, just like him.

"Should've known ye'd be a Glock user," Soap teased, nodding at my sidearm as he began assembling his gear.

I shrugged, sliding it into the holster on my thigh rig. "Good ol' reliable. Don't jam. Don't need anythin' fancy."

"Boring," he said with a dramatic sigh, before holding up his own sidearm, a FNX-45 Tactical. "This beauty's got capacity, power, 'nd a proper bit o' flair."

"Flair gets y'killed," Ghost said bluntly, locking a mag into his HK with a sharp click.

"Maybe in yer cold, dead world," Soap quipped, strapping his gear into place. He let out a theatrical sigh. "Ach, ye lot are no fun. First Bea, now you. Where's th' bloody romance fer th' gear?"

Romance. For the gear. Ghost ignored him, clearly accustomed to Soap's dramatics. I rolled my eyes, suppressing a faint smile as I strapped on my plate carrier. 

The two of them reminded me of Carlos and Leon back home—always messing around  until I had to step in and remind them to focus. Despite being friends, I was their platoon sergeant, it was my job. 

My combat knife was sheathed at my chest, and I adjusted the straps with practiced precision, ensuring everything was secure. I double-checked my mag pouches and grenades, each motion as fluid and familiar as breathing. 

Soap glanced my way as he clipped his SCAR to his chest rig. "Ye ready, lass? First dance with th' Task Force an' all?"

I finished securing the last strap of my plate carrier, locking it in place with a practiced snap. My gaze shifted to Soap. If he wanted banter, I'd give it to him. "Ready enough t'make y'look slow."

Soap's brows shot up, and then he broke into a wide grin. "Oh, ho! Tough talk fer th' new girl."

I shrugged, slinging my SIG across my chest. "I've heard the chit-chat. 'Best of the best.' 'M just here t'see if y'all live up to it."

That earned a low chuckle from Ghost from where he was checking his mags. "Careful, MacTavish. Sounds like she's already writin' your eulogy."

Soap turned to Ghost, mock offense on his face. "Y'know, I expect this shite from ye, but now her too? Bloody brilliant. I'll have th' both o' ye on my arse within a week."

I smirked, tightening the strap on my sidearm holster. "Chill, Soap. Just don' slow me down, 'n there won't be problems."

Soap opened his mouth to retort, but Ghost cut in, his tone as dry as ever. "Save it for after the op, you two. I want focus out there."

"Yes, Sir," I said smoothly, sliding a knife into its sheath on my right thigh. I shot Soap one last look and gave him a pat on his shoulder. "See ya on the field, big guy. Keep up."

Soap snorted but didn't say anything as I left the room, though the amused glint in his eye spoke volumes.

As I let the armory and  walked toward the hangar, Ghost matched my stride effortlessly, his steps deliberate. I only heard him because he wanted me to. His voice cut through the silence, rough and direct. "Not much of a talker, are you?"

I didn't look at him, keeping my eyes straight ahead as we moved. "Never had much t'say," I replied, my voice low but steady. "Less talkin', more shootin'. Johnny don't seem t'get that."

He grunted, sounding almost amused. "Don't cut him short yet. You haven't seen him in action." he mumbled. "But that's Johnny. Takes a bit of time t'figure out who's got the real grit."

I glanced over at him, quick enough to catch the sharp edge of his side-eye beneath the mask. "And y'think I got it?"

He didn't flinch, didn't back off. "I've seen your file. You don't make it this far without being capable. I told you you'd be a good asset."

I think that was a compliment—or as close as it was going to get with Ghost. I kept my face neutral, though I could feel the heat of the tension creeping up my neck, a telltale warmth that threatened to betray me. What happened in Russia wasn't in the file. It never would be. Only that I was responsible for killing Barkov, and that I needed mandatory therapy afterward.

"Files don't tell the whole story," I said, my voice steady despite the subtle tightness in my chest.

Ghost tilted his head slightly, the gesture barely noticeable, but enough to let me know he was listening. "No, they don't," he replied after a pause, his tone flat, yet weighted with something I couldn't quite place.

He continued, his stride never slowing. "But they're a start." He gave a short chuckle, the sound gritty. "You're here for a reason. And if you're here to prove somethin', don't waste your time. We all know the score."

"Don't need t'prove shit to y'all," I shot back, my tone sharper than I intended, but the words felt right. "'M here t'do my job. That's all that matters."

He stops in his tracks, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity I hadn't felt since the first time we met. The last time he looked at me like that was when we first shook hands. "Fair's fair," he says, his voice steady but firm. "Just make sure you don't forget: no one fights alone. Not even you."

I stopped with him, just for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in. For all the distance I kept between myself and everyone I wasn't already close to, he wasn't wrong. But I wasn't about to admit that to him.

I cleared my throat. "Affirm, Sir." I turned, and kept walking till the hangar came into view. Ghost's footsteps followed behind me, the air between us filled with an understanding I couldn't quite place.

Ghost remained unreadable, but his eyes flickered with something—recognition, maybe. "Don't mistake keeping it together f'not givin' a damn," he said. "People who say they don't feel anythin' usually feel the most."

I didn't blink. "Maybe. Or maybe I just know when t'shut up 'n do the job."

For a moment, there was nothing but the steady thrum of the hangar in the background. Ghost didn't press further, but I could tell he wasn't satisfied with my answer. "You've been through hell, haven't you?" he said quietly, almost like an observation rather than a question.

I stopped walking and turned back to face him. I didn't answer right away, letting the weight of his words settle in the space between us. When I spoke, my voice was steady but heavy with the past. "Everyone's been through somethin'. Don't mean we all wear a mask t'hide behind it."

Ghost didn't say a word, but I felt his gaze on me, heavy and deliberate as I turned and kept walking toward the hangar. It wasn't often people spoke to him like that—unfiltered. There was a shift in his gaze that I would've missed had I turned away a second sooner. Respect. 

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

Unsure if this has been asked before, apologies if it has:

What would the after effects be of a psionic/telepathic "invasion" so to speak?

(AKA what after effects would the doctor have felt ((if any)) after dealing with the midnight entity?)

What are the after-effects of a psionic/telepathic invasion?

When dealing with psionic injuries in Gallifreyans—particularly those resulting from invasive contact with non-corporeal entities—we refer to a broad category of conditions defined under the Psionic Emergency Pathway (PEP).

While official documentation is… sparse (the Doctor famously doesn't complete post-incident reports), we can construct a probable timeline and symptom profile based on established telepathic medicine.

🌀 Incident Summary: The Midnight Entity

An unknown, non-physical being boarded a sealed passenger vehicle and began exerting escalating influence over its occupants. Its attention quickly narrowed to the Doctor. Key phenomena included:

Vocal echolocation and mimicry

Escalation from repetition to predictive speech

Full synchronisation with the Doctor's vocal output

Attempted identity override (suggested: theft or occupation)

Early-stage motor control hijack

The entity displayed no visible form and no conventional material interface. Its attack relied entirely on psionic and linguistic synchronisation, using echo as a vector for infiltration—essentially, verbal parasitism.

⚠️ During: Psionic Overload in Real Time

Given the suddenness and intensity of the invasion, the most immediate condition would have been an acute psionic overload—a psychic event not unlike being struck by lightning. The Doctor's symptoms suggest the following:

Cognitive flooding: The Doctor's verbal output was being hijacked in real time, likely overwhelming his executive function.

Hyperarousal: His nervous system was likely in a state of acute sensory overload. Bright lights, movement, and—critically—touch may have felt agonising, especially as physical contact during high psionic stress can register as invasive or even violent. Being dragged or restrained likely amplified the sense of helplessness and pain.

Collapse of self–other boundary: As the entity's mimicry escalated, the boundary between 'self' and 'other' began to collapse. This kind of identity erosion isn't subtle—it feels like drowning inside your own skull.

It's crucial to note that this was a non-consensual invasion. Gallifreyans are naturally telepathic and capable of mutual psionic contact—but when such a connection is forced, recursive and predatory, it causes intense psychic trauma.

Had medical staff been present, immediate intervention would have included isolation fields, mental shielding, and emergency grounding protocols. Unfortunately, he got stuck in it for a while.

💢 After: Physical and Mental Symptoms

The Doctor appears to regain full cognitive control following the entity's removal, but several post-event symptoms are likely based on standard PEP cases:

Physical Symptoms (often delayed onset):

Severe migraines: Not just headaches—these are deep, radiating neural pains centred around the epiphysis cerebri (pineal gland), sometimes described as a “burnt light” sensation in the brain. Likely worsened by strong telepathic fields and loud environments.

Nosebleeds / Auditory overstimulation: The Doctor may have experienced sensory rebound—ordinary sounds could have become painfully sharp, triggering vascular dilation and minor bleeds.

Vocal dysregulation: After being hijacked at the linguistic level, many patients may experience lingering 'echoes' in their own speech—accidental mimicry of cadence, or slight stuttering as the speech centre recalibrates.

Fatigue and psionic dissonance: Gallifreyans recovering from psionic trauma may feel out-of-sync with their own thoughts, like the body and mind aren't coordinating properly.

Mental Symptoms (subtler, but more persistent):

Echo hallucinations: The voice of the invading entity may replay in memory like a looped recording, often triggered by stress or quiet environments.

Sleep disturbances / Lucid dreaming: Psionic trauma commonly leads to highly vivid or even semi-telepathic dreams, where the patient re-experiences the event or constructs psychic defences in their sleep.

Telepathic noise: Even after regaining control, residual psionic static may persist as background mental 'chatter' more severe than usual.

Emotional volatility: Anger, paranoia, guilt, or sudden dissociation—these aren't signs of weakness, but common responses to near-possession.

🧬 Long-Term Sequelae: Psionic Microscars

The most likely chronic consequence is the formation of psionic microscars—subtle, often invisible structural distortions in the mind's telepathic matrix. These do not usually impair function, but can:

Trigger minor glitches in psionic reception

Cause ghost echoes (phantom voices or thoughts) under stress

Reduce resistance to future possession-type invasions

Prompt avoidance behaviour

This may help explain the Doctor's notably visceral reaction when encountering it in a later incarnation.

🧾 Summary: What Midnight Did to the Mind

The Midnight Entity attack was psionic, invasive, and likely structurally damaging. The 10th Doctor almost certainly experienced acute overload during the incident and likely carried residual trauma, even if never formally diagnosed.

If this were a standard case presented to a Gallifreyan medical team, treatment would have included:

Immediate Zero Room rest for stabilisation

Neural recalibration via psycho-healer or TARDIS resonance

Regular telepathic check-ins

Long-term monitoring for degenerative changes

🏫So…

Please consult your TARDIS or a Gallifreyan Hospitaller if you've recently been mirrored, mimicked, or temporarily overwritten.

Related:

💬|⚕️The Stolen Earth (10th Doctor): Breakdown of the Dalek shooting scene in The Stolen Earth (4x12).

⚕️🔮Psionic Emergency Pathways

Hope that helped! 😃

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features: ⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[elwenyere]

Hello again! following up on reading too deep into the 1 minute melshi scene (I'm halfway to writing a whole fic with these brainworms)

They make a point of this at the start of the scene: new recruits to Yavin base have to give up all ordinance for inspection, no exceptions, and full consequences for disobeying. Simple enough for most; in this franchise people usually pick up whatever gun is on hand when they start their rebellion, no attachments, no reason not to follow orders.

But how difficult must it have been for Melshi to separate himself from this blaster he's clung to for the last 3 years, in order to join this new enterprise? His attachment to this blaster is made very clear and very important for the viewer, even if he's a minor character (well, to others, but not to us melshiheads and tony gilroy).

How safe would he have to feel here, and how much trust would he have to have, that this is where he's supposed to be? There is absolutely no promise that he'll ever get the blaster back, especially with it being a premor/ISB-managed munition.

This tells me he's bound to find even stronger and more significant attachments on this base, reinforcing his drive and commitment. Cassian, it's Cassian, he's found Cassian

Hello again!!! I really like the idea that it would have felt like a wrench to Melshi to surrender the blaster without knowing if he'd get it back, and I think it would be a juicy premise for a fic! I found myself noticing how similar in cadence the "weapons on the table" speech in 2.09 was to the instructions Kino would give from the floor in Narkina, and I don't know whether we'll see any of this explicitly in arc four (probably not, given everything else going on), but I'm interested in the possibility that Melshi would have his own set of difficulties integrating into a version of the resistance with a more hierarchical military structure.

I'm also very excited to see what hints we might get about the resonance or dissonance between Melshi and Cassian's relationships to the Rebellion at this point. There are moments in season one where Melshi is clearly drafting on Cassian's conviction and influence ("tell me they're leaving" being the most central), as well as moments when Cassian is drawing on Melshi's analysis ("Melshi's right: we're cheaper than droids and easier to replace") or following Melshi's bursts of faith ("we're getting out of here: I can feel it"). So getting a sense of where they both are in the final lead up to Rogue One and how they will play off each other (and K2SO!!!) is really enticing.

And whatever happens now, as Cassian said to Melshi, I hope we will have a fertile period as a fandom to craft our own possibilities in the gaps and edges canon will leave us!

[moku-youbi]

Tell me you haven't read any Poe without telling me you haven't read any Poe.

All these fucking articles and reviews from major entertainment and news outlets, and posts on tumblr talking about the influences of each episode trying to bend over backwards to say how Tamerlane's story is an abstract take on Gold-Bug, simply because that's the name of her subscription box, even though there's nothing there.

They don't mention William Williamson at all, or even touch on the doppleganger aspect as Verna takes over her life. Like are you fucking kidding me? That's only one of his best stories. And it's not remotely subtle. I didn't even *notice* that her husband's last name was Williamson on the first watchthrough, or put together with his name being Bill...but I already knew she was William Williamson when she saw Verna in the background of the exercise video episodes before.

Goldbug is a cute wink at one of Poe's stories that didn't really fit with what Usher was all about. Tamerlane's Goldbug is a rare treasure contained with a box, and that's it. Meanwhile, William Williamson tells the story of a man meeting his own double, who shares his name. A man who wears the same clothing, has the same mannerisms--and OMG can we talk about Carla Gugino's performance as Candy, when she was pulling off the exact timbre and cadence of Samantha Sloyan's voice, so fucking uncanny!!. The double starts insinuating himself into WW's life, appearing everywhere, though his face is only ever visible to WW. He offers unwanted advice, and tries to intervene with WW is making poor life choices (to put it mildly, lmao), and finally, how does it all end? WW challenges his double to a duel, only when he strikes the final blow, he finds he's been standing in front of a mirror, and dies, having killed his own reflection.

Now, do I necessarily expect the average viewer to know this? Of course not. But I would think that the folks out there writing reviews of a series based on the works of a famous author should do the bare minimum research. Not a single episode is based on any one single work of Poe's. There are nods and hints and easter eggs and winks all over the place. And while all the other children's deaths are clear cut references, some of them nearly exactly the same as in Poe's work, like how fucking hard would it be to go "hmm, this doesn't seem to have anything to do with Gold-Bug. Maybe I'll do a google and see if the major themes of Tamerlane's episode are explored in any of Poe's writing..."

[henrysglock]

Do you actually have any insights into Louis’ voice he does for Henry in TFS? Is it just him doing an American accent and possibly aiming for a more flat affect? He sounded very different from Henry in the series and the way he speaks the lines seems to come and go - at times being very prominent and at other times practically nonexistent.

First: Louis is portraying a 14 year old American boy who gets frequent, intense nosebleeds and spends half his time panicking and sobbing. So he sounds a little nasal, a little stuffy, and a lot awkward. Specifically, though, it sounds like he's placing his resonance in or slightly behind and above his soft palate. It creates a darker tone that's still resonating in his nose rather than his throat or chest. I'm a Midwesterner born and raised, and I knew like 5 different boys in high school who sounded almost exactly like him before their voices settled. Also...Louis' American accent is quite good, in my opinion. I never had any problems with it. He sounds like a boy from the Midwest, and his accent is consistent in scenes where it makes sense for it to be.

Second: We've never heard young Henry speak in filmed canon. All we've heard is 30+ year old Henry, whose voice settled like a decade ago, and who's matured into a more adult cadence—specifically one of a caregiver for small children. Of course he sounds different!

However, when Louis' Henry is monologuing at Joyce in the basement of Hawkins High, he sounds like a teenage version of 4.07 Monologue Henry—which is to say: a little more nasal, and a lot more frenetic, but still generally the same cadance. Or, for another example, when "Henry" (read: Henry under the influence of the Shadow) is tormenting Virginia in the attic, he also sounds like a teenage version of 4.07. Louis did a very good job modulating his voice to differentiate between Henry, Henry under the influence, and full Shadow voice.

Also, we have to remember that Louis is often speaking with emotions we never see from Henry in filmed canon. We've never heard adult Henry speak whilst panicking, sobbing, or violently angry to the point of screaming. We've never heard him speak while dancing or while trying to be normal and make friends. All we've heard from Henry in canon is low, soft tones because he works with children. Even during the monologue, he doesn't raise his voice past like...seething? He never yells or screams.

In short: We have exactly zero reference for what Henry "should" sound like at this point in time.

Third: I'm not exactly sure what you mean by this.

"...the way he speaks the lines seems to come and go - at times being very prominent and at other times practically nonexistent."

It's a very vague statement, and it doesn't tell me a whole lot about what you take issue with.

Louis' delivery of lines changes based on the situation he's in and based on whose lines he's delivering. When stakes are low, he sounds one way (probably the nonexistent delivery you're describing?) because there's literally nothing going on that would make him deliver the lines in anything other than the baseline "normal" teenage Henry voice. When stakes are high, his delivery/the unique aspects of his tone becomes more..."prominent", I guess, because his emotions are high and the volume of his voice is higher overall. When he's nervous or scared, he stutters and stumbles over his words. That's normal. Expected, even, given that he's a child. When he's delivering the Shadow's lines, he's either doing the monster voice or doing a tauntingly flat delivery. That's nothing new or weird. When his nose is bleeding down his face and he's sobbing, he sounds stuffy and wobbly—which, again, is normal.

What I'm getting from what you said, Anon, is that Louis is...acting? It just sounds like he's doing his job. His delivery shouldn't be exactly the same for each line, because not all the lines call for the same kind of delivery. So I guess I'm just a little confused why that's posed as a problem? Do you sound the same in every situation you're in? Idk.

[ducky-bah]

Inbox is open! How exciting !!! Could we snag a pair of headmates with the large template sourced from dsmp?

The first a technoblade with some theming around the greek goddess Artemis? (Hunting, wolves, the moon)

The second a wilbur (your choice on era) themed around the god Apollo? (Healing, music, the sun)

if alright could you add as many neos as you'd like and than transids and kintypes to them both?

Thank you guys so much!!

Duo below! You are free to edit or to scrap any details that you do not think fit!

༄~𖦹︎ Name(/s) ➪ Technoblade, Artemis, Arden, Lycus, Theron, Sylvan

༄~𖦹︎ Pronouns ➪ He/him, She/her, Blade/blades, Hunt/hunts, Moon/moons, Wild/wilds, Bow/bows, Wolf/wolfs (Wolf/wolves), Lun/luns, Lune/lunes, Arrow/arrows, Knife/knifes (Knife/knives), Deer/deers, Wood/woods, Deer/deer (Deer/deers)

༄~𖦹︎ Gender ➪ Masculine, Feminine, Mascfem, Bigender, Queerfemmasc, Foretdian, Forestthing, Gore Hoarder, Hunt Hoarder, Forest Hoarder

༄~𖦹︎ Orientations ➪ Aromantic, Asexual, Queerplatonic Omni

༄~𖦹︎ TransIDs ➪ CisTransCultMember, TransBody, TransBodyRage, TransIncompreh, TransAlbino/TransAlbinism, Transaxanthism, EldriAgeic, Trans(Severity)WildernessSurvivor

༄~𖦹︎ PermaIDs ➪ PermaTrauma/PermaTraumatised, PermaAwake, PermaAnger, PermaRage, PermaAge

༄~𖦹︎ Kintypes ➪ Godkin | Boar | hunt-aligned cryptid(?)

༄~𖦹︎ Age ➪ Cis Early-mid 20s | EldriAgeic | Perma20s

༄~𖦹︎ Species ➪ Piglin hybrid

༄~𖦹︎ Role(/s) ➪ Physical protector, and/or external protector, and/or Hunter-protector, and/or Internal self helper

༄~𖦹︎ Source or Theme ➪ Technoblade [DSMP] with Artemis influences

༄~𖦹︎ Appearance or Faceclaim ➪

➪ Art Links; 1 & 2

༄~𖦹︎ Likes ➪ Strategy/strategy-based activities (including but not limited to games, sports, war preparation...), night time, wolves/dogs, forests, nature, mountains, exploring, the stars, challenges. Potatoes (obviously /silly).

༄~𖦹︎ Mixed Feelings ➪ Gacha games (tends to get very frustrated when she doesn't get the character/item he wanted), peace, tradition, things that are purely luck or chance based

༄~𖦹︎ Dislikes ➪ That which is unjust, crowds/large groups of people, hot days, arrogance, cowardice, bright lights

༄~𖦹︎ Proxy Option ➪ 🦌🗡️/🏹🌲

༄~𖦹︎ Personality Traits/Quirks ➪ Very thorough when it comes to things that she's planning/working on though tends to disregard small details in plans/explanations when it comes to things others bring up (unless brought up by somone he cares for). Mild to moderate craving for blood/violence, would probably show affection through 'minor violence' (like how some people punch you on the upper arm to congratulate you or something). Good with strategising, though dislikes having to wait for things. Good with directions/maps/compasses, may also have a knack for tracking things (animals/people). Loyal. Tends to be more independent and veer away from others, but also enjoys company. Works well under pressure, and seems to almost thrive in chaos

༄~𖦹︎ Aesthetics ➪ Combination of royalcore/kingcore, forestpunk, and dark naturalism

༄~𖦹︎ Fears ➪ Losing herself/going crazy(?), forgetting things

༄~𖦹︎ Front Triggers ➪ The full moon, forests, dogs/wolves, dangerous situations

༄~𖦹︎ Typing Quirk(/s) ➪Types/messages in semi-formal language, and on and off adds "..."/ellipses instead of a full-stop/period

༄~𖦹︎ Extra Notes (If Applicable) ➪ Girlboyboss who is definitely not afraid to go in public crossdressing, probably wears makeup but doesn't keep it a secret but also doesn't tend to mention/talk about it (people probably assume it's meant to be a secret, but they're wrong).

~~~

༄~𖦹︎ Name(/s) ➪ Wilbur, Apollo, Cadence, Rook, Aurelius

༄~𖦹︎ Pronouns ➪ He/him, They/them, Sun/suns, Sol/sols, Muse/muses, Clear/clears, Bow/bows, Clarity/claritys (Clarity/clarities), Gold/golds, Lyr/lyrs, Lyre/lyres, Prophecy/prochecys (Prophecy/prophecies), Sun/suns, Music/musics, Heal/heals, Health/healths, Melody/melodys (Melody/melodies), Lyre/lyres, Ray/rays, Oracle/oracles, Shine/shines, Hymn/hymns, Cure/cures, Light/lights, Poet/poets, Poem/poems, Crow/crows, Raven/ravens, Snake/snakes, Light/lights, Swan/swans

༄~𖦹︎ Gender ➪ Sunbeing, Sunguardian, Sungender, Swangender, Crowgender, Corvidgender, Ravenic, Raventhing, Corvithing, Musicgender, Musicbodiment, Contramasc

༄~𖦹︎ Orientations ➪ Compliaro, Cinthean, Amoromantic, Aroacespec

༄~𖦹︎ TransIDs ➪ TransFreckled, TransDivine, TransMusBody, FloatBodic, TransCartilaginous, TransMallia, TransOrganum, Transanerythrism, FireBodic, TransSpecies, TransSiren, TransSirenVoice, TransFace, AeroAge, PleasingAge, TransLandmine, TransCringeFailWoman, TransPrincessSyndrome, TransCigSmoker

༄~𖦹︎ PermaIDs ➪ PermaManipuLove, PermaKilled, PermaSeaSickness, PermaDelusional, PermaInvalidated, PermaGuilty, PermaTrauma/PermaTraumatised, PermaHappy, PermaBleeding, PermaCigSmoker

༄~𖦹︎ Kintypes ➪ Musickin, sunkin(?) | Raven & magpie therian

༄~𖦹︎ Age ➪ Unknown adult CisAge | Agefluid; PleasingAge & AeroAge -> His AeroAge is mainly adult ages, their PleasingAge ranges from mid-teens and up

༄~𖦹︎ Species ➪ Unknown | TransSiren

༄~𖦹︎ Role(/s) ➪ Muse, and/or Artist, and/or Performer, and/or Emotional Funnel

༄~𖦹︎ Source or Theme ➪ Pogtopia Wilbur [DSMP] with Apollo influences

༄~𖦹︎ Appearance or Faceclaim ➪

➪ Art Links; 1 & 2

༄~𖦹︎ Likes ➪ Music, poems, birds, his guitar, knit sweaters, warm days, cats, leadership, being in control, creative tasks, singing, freedom

༄~𖦹︎ Mixed Feelings ➪ His reputation, mortality, his accomplishments (is proud of many of them, though also feels they are not enough), fame, responsibility

༄~𖦹︎ Dislikes ➪ Being overshadowed/ignored/forgotten, the dark, failing, being silenced, artblock/creative-block, water

༄~𖦹︎ Proxy Option ➪ 🐍🎶/☀️🐁

༄~𖦹︎ Personality Traits/Quirks ➪ Pyromaniac, has an obsession with his reputation and subconsciously needs to uphold it (moral OCD, perhaps). For that same need he tends to make himself well-versed in classic literature and classical musics. Tends to unintentionally overlook small details. Focuses best with music going in the background, though has to choose instrumental pieces or those in languages he doesn't understand to avoid getting distracted by singing along. Often prefers company, but is very picky with what company and will usually avoid those with different views, they may see different views as 'inferior' to his own views. Can be very spite-motivated, and will likely add things to their identity simply because somebody else claimed the ID was invalid without providing a good enough reason. Just a tad bit unhinged, just a little, just a smidgeon insane

༄~𖦹︎ Aesthetics ➪ A combination of classic academia, chaotic academia, musical academia, and theatre academia, maybe with a bit of the golden hour aesthetic

༄~𖦹︎ Fears ➪ Losing things/things being taken from him, the ocean/deep water, being seen as inferior

༄~𖦹︎ Front Triggers ➪ Sunrises, music, classic literature, creative tasks

༄~𖦹︎ Typing Quirk(/s) ➪ Typically very formal vocabulary with proper grammar/punctuations and spelling. When stressed that devolves to a rushed typing and he is unlikely to fix spelling/punctuation errors when stressed

༄~𖦹︎ Extra Notes (If Applicable) ➪ Typically very organised, though if stressed or focused on a specific project he will likely disregard his surroundings and would not clean them up much (his space gets very cluttered/chaotic when stressed or focused on a task). He's a woman, in a way, he's also a man, among other things, but tends to default to feminine terms for himself aside from pronouns (e.g. actress over actor, lady over man, etc). Definitely named his guitar. Secretly wears makeup, would never admit that around Techno.

[pynkhues]

examples:

“he's extremely fashion forward and wears brighter colors and more adventurous color combinations than his straight black peers, he wears little silk scarves and keeps his nails well groomed which his mother literally calls effeminate, he had a conk and finger waves in the 1910 when most black men at the time wore their natural hair but short, similar to styles we see today like the low taper, his mannerisms like placing his hand on his chest, his hand gestures when he talks, the way he walks and his posture, the tone and cadence he speaks with, the way he sits with his legs crossed at the knee or the ankle, are all traits and behaviors that are seen as feminine in black culture and yet people will dismiss those behaviors as evidence of him being masculine because they will not take the time to think about how the lens of blackness changes gender presentation” source: https://www.tumblr.com/nashvillethotchicken/770145454745911296/people-are-misunderstanding-this-post-so-let-me

tweets such as this thread and the tweets it’s qrting and their replies: https://x.com/gaptoothsupreme/status/1873769507980034438?s=46

jacob basing louis’ mannerisms off of two black women (eartha kitt & grace jones plus david bowie, a gnc man) see - https://x.com/maymayamai/status/1867911021438095557?s=46

plus you have armand clearly mocking louis’ fem mannerism in 2x05, etc…

Thanks! I'm replying to this in good faith, anon, so I hope that you take it that way, but to start with, the costume designer, Carol's talked pretty specifically about the influences for Louis' style, and that person's right, he's very fashion forward and stylish, but the reason he stands out more against the other men on the show is because Carol deliberately dresses the humans down to make them look like livestock and the vampires stand out. She talked about both Louis being stylish and the background actors in this Q&A on the AMC website here. I've included the specific quote about her influences and choices below:

Q: Since there are large time jumps that happen within Season 1, did you earmark certain decade specific fashion statements that you just had to include? A: Yeah, for sure. One of the ways that I approached the vampires was looking at what was going on across the board during that period. New Orleans was a very different slice of life than the rest of the United States. Fashion was coming out of Paris, then even New York was just a step behind Paris, but down in New Orleans they were a few steps behind New York as far as being fashion-forward. One of my concepts for the background actors was to create this feeling that they're all on the menu, they're all basically mammals. So, I cultivated this look for them that, no matter what time period they were in, they always kind of felt like livestock. They always had a very pedestrian look of the day that showed that it was hard living in New Orleans. Their clothes were well-worn. They were kind of sweaty and their life was gritty. There was a very warm and textured reality to them. That allowed our vampires to kind of dance across the top of them as the stars, as the movie stars, as the most elegant. For Louis starting out, he had several iconic looks. His fashion showed how he was struggling between two sides of himself when Lestat found him. He had a Booker T. Washington look, a look that showcases the entrepreneurial spirit and celebration of education and Black business owners, and it was a more austere look. Then for his nightlife look, I was inspired by Black vaudeville. Not what the men were wearing on stage, but what the men were wearing in their lives, which Louis would have been aware of. They were extremely dapper men, and they had a celebrity air to them. In order to survive, Louis has to be impeccable. He has to have a showmanship about him that serves as a layer within his defense mechanisms. There were so many pieces to the puzzle that got us to where we were visually with both of Louis and Lestat. 

Silk scarves were also extremely common for men in the 1910s. There's an article here about men's fashion in this era, if you're interested, which includes an entire section on it, and some examples of men's scarves and tie ads. I've included the pic of the two of them below:

And the point about Louis' hair having fingerwaves or a conk is a really interesting one, but I Googled out of curiosity, and it was apparently popular by the 1920s, which accounts for a lot of the Rue Royale era, even if Louis was an early adopter.

As for the nails, that scene happens after he's turned and he literally has claws? I've always taken that to be less about his grooming and more the fact that he suddenly has long, pointed nails which - - yeah. Further others him from his mother who's clearly already unable to accept the fact that her son is gay and living with another man.

As for the traits and movements, that's pretty hard for me to comment on, because you're asking me to take that post at face value because they're not providing any evidence to back-up what they're saying, and conducting my own research in the last twenty minutes has already shown me that what they've said isn't entirely accurate. But, y'know, if you interpret those traits and movements as femme or indicative of femininity, great, that's a cool read others seem to agree with! I just don't think it's fair to say that things like putting your hand on your chest or crossing your legs can only be indicative of femininity, and it certainly isn't fair to say that by not seeing them as feminine, people are seeing him as a 'brute'.

Louis basing his mannerisms off Eartha Kitt, Grace Jones and David Bowie though (who's absolutely not gender non-conforming, anon, by the way, he adopted a persona as a marketing tool and it worked. You can read about that here) is amazing, and a fact that I love, but my interpretation of that is that all three performers have ways of moving and otherworldly qualities to them that make sense for an actor playing an immortal creature. I've also said this before, but men can and do derive inspiration from women creatively all the time, and I think there's a bit of a dangerous line to walk there to posit the argument that a man inspired by a female artist is, as a result, feminine.

Again though, none of this is a criticism of your reading, this is just me reflecting why I have a different one. I think Louis is an intelligent, sensitive queer man with a lot of different facets to him, and I love that we get to see all the ways Jacob, the show's writers and the artistic teams bring him to life.

[mwezina]

Two decades late, but inspired by the movie of all things. So here's a brief analysis of Wicked Act I and the importance of key signatures.

First an overview of post-Wagner key signature conventions.

It is quite common post-Wagner to have the entirety of an act or even the whole opera to work towards the resolution of one chord. Composers sometimes are very careful to never play the final chord in order to trigger that feeling of catharsis and arrival. Wagner was known to underpin every song with the dominant, while also orchestrating it so it feels unstable, thus making the audience on edge. So once the final chord is played, there is a feel of "finally". He weaponised music theory to make the audience feel just as much longing as the character themselves. Schwartz is well-versed in music history, so I have no doubt the following key signature choices are intentional. This is especially true since many well-known composers also utilised this technique, such as Sondheim, Webber, and Zimmer. Schwartz also collaborated with Zimmer multiple times, and we can see their influence upon each other in later works.

Now, let's break down the keys of the major musical numbers we'll be looking at.

1) The Wizard and I - Ab+

2) What is this Feeling & Popular - C+

3) Dancing through Life - F+

4) I'm not that Girl - A+

5) Defying Gravity - Db+

It's clear based on orchestration and important moments that Schwartz had chosen to represent characters and their "true selves" using a key that represents them. Elphaba is Db+ because of its darkness and seriousness. Galinda's is C because of its purity and cleanness. Fiyero's is F for whatever the fuck. It's like the hardest key to sing in but go off.

Now, the relationship between "The Wizard and I" and "Defying Gravity" is meant to demonstrate that the "I want" song is the dominant to the resolution of Elphaba's character arc in "Defying Gravity". This is why "The Wizard and I" cycles through a bunch of keys while never touching Db, each time climbing higher and higher, closer and closer to Db, but stopping short at C.

Galinda being in C+ demonstrates how close she is to Elphaba, but the two actually being very different. Db and C are not pleasant notes to hear next to each other. But, C is the leading tone to Db, so in a way, Galinda is a very necessary part of Elphaba. She is the stepping stone to Elphaba becoming who she really is.

The most interesting part for me is the keys between "Dancing Through Life" and "I'm not that Girl".

Fiyero's key is F+, this the audience and Elphaba knows because we heard his song before Elphaba's final transformation. Elphaba likes him but doesn't think she's the right match for him. This realisation is expressed through "I'm not that Girl", which is in A+. A+ is the mediant of F+, expressing a desire to harmonise with him and be a pair with him. It is one of the rare songs that doesn't skip through a million keys, demonstrating her very earnest desire to be that girl, but recognising she is not.

However, with "Defying Gravity", it becomes clear that Elphaba's key is Db major, which means Fiyero is the mediant to her key. He is meant to harmonise with her. Elphaba is so desperate to spin around someone else's orbit, that she doesn't realise she's literally the sun and Fiyero spins around her.

We see a glimmer of her realising this is true in "I'm not that Girl" as well. In "I'm not that Girl", Schwartz uses compound time to represent fantasy, and simple time represents reality. When she's talking about "what could have been" in her 6/8 fantasy land, the chords are in Db major. But only for two fucking bars. Schwartz goes Ab -> Db (cadences) but it's Db add9, meaning it doesn't quite sound right. However, it is an early hint that Elphaba recognises this as "a love she assumed she lost" when in reality, she knows that she is the tonic to her own song.

Also, at the end of "Popular", Galinda modulates from C+ to F+, demonstrating that being popular ultimately is about being like Fiyero. It's also reflected in the lyrics of both "Dancing through Life" and "Popular", where the underlying ethos is "form over content". So at that moment, we truly feel like Galinda and Fiyero belong together due to their shared ethos and now shared key.

But Elphaba changes everything... Because with the last song, we recognise that as the true cadence. The entirety of the first act is in Db major, making Ab the dominant (the earnest desire), F the mediant (a pretty harmony), and A an unfortunate passing tone. Elphaba was never meant to be someone's girl. Fiyero was meant to be her guy.

[rockerb0y]

     ALTHOUGH DEEMED  to be a material improvement over the v's former tenancy, the corpo plaza apartment failed to elicit plaudits from its additional occupant. relocation to such sterile accommodations painted a predictable portrait of banal urbanity, wholly befitting of his host's pedigree and partiality for grandeur. although cognizant of the null impact associated with his vote, the loft apartment in the heart of heywood boasted his bias over their current dwellings.

     through the glass was the arasaka memorial surveyed from above, its scaled-down structure scrutinized secondhand alongside the mercenary. the tribute to the original towers' ruination educed entangled sentiments and ire. not even the widespread devastation could unfetter the city from the megacorporation's influence and over fifty years later, all that remained of the fateful night was a glorified grave at the base of its architectural successor. although voiced as a passing observation, the drought of meaningful consequence in relation to his own ambitions still compelled his counterpart to outline her precise point of dissension and contest his perspective forthright; the disputation yielded little surprise.

@xitmusic: " i’ve seen inside you. not much there as you think. "

     ❝ seen inside you too. hate to break it to ya, but you've got the depth of a goddamn kiddie pool with none of the whimsical charm. ❞

     behind scarlet lens did focus veer from the memorial below to his corporeal benefactor, narrowed and whetted by the fomentation of irreverence. their incongruous creeds were liable to rouse contention over the course of their antipathetic coalition and the present was no exception, regardless of their change in residence; if nothing else, the constancy could be appreciated at face value.

     ❝ know your type like the back of my dick, v. a corpo thoroughbred who's worshipped their collar from birth, pads their resumé with bullshit skills in hopes of proving something to someone, and wears their daddy issues on their sleeve like jinguji's spring-summer collection — you're a dime a dozen. ❞

     words were imparted with cool cadence, a blunt assessment crafted from a small sample of memories and initial impressions. their cerebral coalescence had necessitated an analysis of her character not long after their first encounter; given her prolonged exposure to his own experiences, the initiative was considered equitable.

     ❝ consider yourself lucky that you got a wake-up call. 'saka saw your true worth and netted it out for you: a big fat zero for your bottom line. just a cryin' shame that they beat me to the punch. ❞

BLADE RUNNER 2049 PROMPTS

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Linguistics post!!

I'm sure it'll come as a surprise to everyone, but just about all my fantasy short stories take place in the same universe (it was inexplicably named Triworld by my younger self, and I haven't seen fit to change it since) across different times! I've been cultivating the little universe since I was 6, and it's basically become a sprawling mess.

Nonetheless, I want to set the lore down in stone, once and for all. And where better to start than with the linguistics?

Now, in modern Triworld, there are 4 main languages. They're generally divided by species, though there is some geopolitical leakage.

Trade-tongue (occasionally known as humani, Lingua Franca of everywhere except the Cescere/Syvniko)

Spirit/Fae (more commonly known as Cescereli)

Angelic/Demonic/Sirenic (generally called Angelic)

Ghoulish (also used by the nearly extinct shifters)

Trade-tongue:

You can operate on the assumption that Trade-tongue will be considered the default. The Humans, and to a lesser extent, the elves, use it exclusively. It is a mish-mash of a variety of different languages, from the days when different tribes worshipped different gods, with a great deal of influence from the now-archaic Elvish tongue. To a non-native speaker it will have a rolling cadence, with rounded words than the a spirit or ghoul would be comfortable with.

Interestingly, it contains some Greek/Latin prefixes in it, as seen by the countries Luxatia and Nyctomachia. (As a writer, it's because younger me loved her fancy language and never saw what a pain it would be for older me. The lore reason is that a Wanderer found his/her way into Triworld and messed up human linguistics in the process)

Cescereli:

Oh dear. Where do I even begin? This is by far the most detailed of my languages, and I would go so far as to call it a conlang. It operates on a character based format, similar to Chinese, and any depictions of Cescereli in my writing will be limited to phonetic transcriptions until I work out how to input made-up symbols into my writing.

Sentence structure is fairly variable, given that it has dozens of dialects, and some linguists have (very hesitantly) suggested that the linguistic drift might be so great that they ought to be considered several languages. The spirits, being a very United people, cannot and will never accept that, and the Fae's pidgin of trade-tongue and Cescereli is remarkably faithful to what is known as the Imperial dialect.

Cescereli uses a great deal of compound words, with each character being seperated by a ' or a -, or nothing at all, depending on the type of character in use. Something that would incorporate all three might be Cescere'nari-ilra, which is what spirits use to refer to mountain elves.

Directly translated, it would mean Our (ces) Mountain (Cere) Long-eared (nari, also a term used to refer to donkeys and rabbits) Mortals (ilra, with ilre being the immortal version). As you can tell, it is my darling. I could write its own post about it, and about the spirits in general)

Now, the elves, being geographically close to the spirit Capital, share quite a bit of vocabulary with the spirits, so spirits often find themselves shocked to hear Cescereli within trade-tongue. Spirits are fiercely protective of their language and insist on speaking it amongst themselves. Any being that wishes to work amongst spirits, or to a lesser extent, Far, has to have at least some modicum of Cescereli proficiency.

To a non-native speaker, it sounds like a teakettle hissing. This has been the source of rage for many spirits.

Angelic:

A dot-based language, it has the greatest tonal variation of any tongue on Triworld. Angelic requires the speaker to transverse as far as three octaves across a single sentence, leading it to be known as song-tongue colloquially.

Few species have the vocal chords to actually pronounce the words, with sirens, angels, demons, and spirits (who refuse to speak it due to an ancient rivalry with the sirens) being the only ones truly able to speak it fluently. The remaining species, when trying to learn Angelic, use a variant known as Lesser Enochian (another remnant of a long-gone Wanderer), which has far less warbling.

It is known as the most beautiful language in existence, and sirens take great pleasure in reciting Angelic poetry to honoured guests. Demons, on the other hand, delight in their dialect, Infernal (which has its own set of sub-dialects), as a method of mocking those without sufficiently high ranges of hearing to catch their words. Angels prefer pretending they do not have to share their language with two other species, and insist their dialect is the only 'true' one.

Ghoulish:

As languages go, Ghoulish is a mess. It has a basis of shifter-speak, with a dash of Cescereli, some elven, a remarkable amount of Goddish, vampiric to taste, and what might actually be the original human tongue, or perhaps ancient ghoulish.

It came of the Lich-Queen of Ceredell (yes, you do note the Cescereli Cere being mixed with the trade-tongue Dell) wanting to cut her ties to humanity. As a tribute to the people who visited her coronation (I'm currently writing this story up now, so spoiler alert for the Lich-Queen!), she named her capital after the spirits, made shifter-tongue the national language, devoted a quarter of every mortal city to the Gods, industrialised the blood-substitute industry for the vampires, and offered free and safe immigration for all the above species.

The result was... This. Ghoulish growls and snaps and whistles and bounces of the walls like it's high on booze-berry. It technically uses the trade-tongue alphabet, but with each letter having indentations and inflections, it might as well be its own language.

Well, that's about it! I'm sorry to anyone who made it this far, that's 5 minutes of your life that you're not getting back. I could talk endlessly on my world building, but I try to obey the principle of Show, not Tell. Next up, Geography!!!

[metalomagnetic]

Hey Metalo, I read many of your posts and I saw that you mentioned English not being your first language. I was so impressed. Your writing is gorgeous.

Here is my question, if you're not uncomfortable revealing it (privacy and all), what is your mother tongue?

Bonus question if you don't feel like answering the first one: what language do you think sounds the best or you wish you could speak?

Luv u <3

Hello!

My mother tongue is Romanian.

I speak or at least understand very well all latin-based languages; from them, I like how French sounds the best.

Out of languages I can't speak, I think Russian sounds the best. There's a reason it is classified as a melodic language. Just beautiful, wish I could understand more than a few words and phrases. Funnily enough, Romanian has a little slavic influence, so some of our words correspond, yet it doesn't make Romanian sound melodic, but harsh. Always fascinated how languages work.

I also like how Korean sounds, it's cadence. Same for Japanese. However, I cannot understand a single word, so it will remain a beautiful mystery.

[lectersobsession]

stray cat , wildcat , pouncing , catnip <- for the cat ask game :3 .

— maeve !

stray cat ♡ how do you feel when your darling interacts with others? do you try to isolate them? When my darling(s) interacts with others, I observe— always, in whatever way I can. It does awaken something. An ache. A desire to fold them inward, keep them close, away from the influence. I do not seek to isolate out of possessiveness, but rather… preservation. Not all gardens are meant to be tread upon by every wandering fool.

wildcat ♡ what are some fantasies you have about your darling? what about the darkest ones? Fantasies and daydreaming vary depending on who I'm thinking of. You, for instance, guide my mind to the darkest places I've ever known. I won't go into much detail so publicly, but you shoukd have a good idea of my thoughts based on asks I've previously sent you. For others, like my partner, the thoughts are gentler but no less consuming. I have dreamt of a devotion so complete it renders him breathless. A bond that leaves no room for doubt, or escape. In these moments, he is mine in every sense of the word. Not harmed, not afraid, but held.

pouncing ♡ do you stalk your darling? if so, how? Of course I do, I'm a deeply observant person. I try to see them when they do not see me. I learn whatever I can— their speech, their cadence, their habits. When they rise. When they rest. I learn the same way a composer learns the breath of their instrument… the way a predator learns its prey before it strikes.

catnip ♡ what are your favorite things about your darling? What I treasure most about them collectively is their minds. None are alike, each alluring in their own way. They offer fascinating perspectives, each revealing a new thing to adore… they're absolutely beautiful to me, inside and out. Each of them have shaped me into who I am now, or are shaping me now. They are the greatest people in my life; I would not replace them for anything this futile world has to offer. I could certainly go on, but I hate to be so sappy.

[sombrawonverse]

What happened to the Main 6? Part 1: Twilight

(Edited base by: ElementBases on DA, link here, better quality pic at my DeviantArt)

Early Life:

Twilight Sparkle, in this timeline, did not become Princess Celestia's student and did not move to Ponyville. Instead, she lived in the Crystal Empire alongside her older brother, Shining Armor. From a young age, Twilight showed exceptional magical talent and a deep interest in scholarly pursuits, particularly magic theory and research.

Life Before Sombra:

Twilight Sparkle grew up in the Crystal Empire, where she closely collaborated with her childhood friend, Sunburst, who shared her passion for magic. Their relationship blossomed into romance, and they eventually became engaged. Around the same time, Twilight gave birth to their child, a son born in the same year as Flurry Heart, Twilight's niece.

During a critical event in the Crystal Empire, Twilight Sparkle uncovered the deception of the fake Cadence, who was revealed to be Chrysalis, the Queen of the Changelings. This discovery was pivotal and led to the exposure of Chrysalis's plot to impersonate Princess Cadence, which would have allowed her to take over the Crystal Empire. This revelation ultimately facilitated the true marriage of Cadence and Shining Armor, solidifying Twilight's bond with her family.

Life After Sombra:

Tragically, shortly after the wedding and the birth of her son, Twilight Sparkle was captured by King Sombra. Separated from her son and Sunburst, Twilight was forcibly taken into Sombra's harem just hours before her brother, Shining Armor, fell in battle against Sombra. This event shattered Twilight's life and propelled her into a tumultuous new reality under Sombra's oppressive rule.

Recognizing Twilight's formidable magical potential, King Sombra swiftly arranged for their marriage. Although their union was born out of Sombra's desire for powerful offspring and control over Twilight's magical abilities, Twilight found herself in a precarious position. Her marriage to Sombra was marked by coercion rather than choice, and she struggled to reconcile her forced allegiance with her desire to protect her niece and uphold her family's legacy.

Twilight Sparkle played a pivotal role in Princess Cadence's daring plan to save Bright Shield, the secret son of Shining Armor and Cadence. Understanding the perilous threat posed by King Sombra's tyranny, Twilight courageously assisted Cadence in smuggling Bright Shield away from the Crystal Empire to safety. As part of the intricate scheme, Twilight claimed Bright Shield as her own child to shield him from Sombra's suspicions, leveraging her deep familial bond with Cadence and her strategic acumen. This act of bravery and compassion not only preserved Bright Shield's life but also underscored Twilight's unwavering commitment to her family's legacy and the enduring fight against Sombra's oppressive reign.

Relationships

Romantic Relationships:

Twilight Sparkle's romantic life has been marked by heartbreak and hidden connections. Her deep love for Sunburst was shattered when he was brainwashed and subsequently married someone else, erasing all memory of their life together and their child. Despite her bitterness towards Sombra, she engaged in a secretive affair with Flash Sentry, albeit more physical than emotional. Additionally, she finds solace in a clandestine emotional relationship with Cheerilee, bonding over their shared love for books.

Friendships:

Twilight has navigated different friend groups throughout her life. Before Sombra's influence, she was close with Minuette, Twinkleshine, and Moondancer. After becoming entangled in Sombra's harem, she forged deep friendships with Cheerilee, Zecora, and Meadowbrooke. Her strongest bond remains with her sister-in-law, Cadence, whom she considers her best friend and ally.

Family Relationships:

Family is of utmost importance to Twilight, and she was deeply affected by the death of her brother, Shining Armor. She played a crucial role in saving her nephew, Bright Shield, while mourning the loss of her niece, Flurry Heart, who remains under Sombra's control as her foster mother. Twilight harbors fears about Cadence's fate, believing her to be dead due to her rebellious nature against Sombra. She protects Flurry Heart fiercely and operates Sombra's spy network to maintain her niece's safety, though she refrains from open rebellion to avoid endangering Flurry.

Other Relationships:

Despite her significant role and intelligence, Twilight's poor social skills have made her less popular among others. She maintains a mentor-student relationship with Celestia but prefers solitude or the company of her close friends.

[subsequentibis]

5-7 for sal and 12 for any ocs you want :)

5. How did you choose their name and why? Was it simply based on vibes or is there any specific meaning behind the name? Are the reasons behind their name different in- and out of universe?

i've always liked the name salvadore and shortly before changing her name from jasper i'd seen a post about the name nadir and how in english it can mean a person at their absolute lowest point, while in arabic it means dear or precious. that felt very appropriate for sal, who is often at her lowest but is so very dear & precious to me. for the other parts of her full name - salvadore terciero nadir cereza - i used a name generator and went til i had a full name that had a nice cadence to it. i should have looked up the meanings of these names before i chose them and i did not! but i was later informed that cereza means cherry in spanish, which i think is very very cute, and it's soft-canon that she'll eventually have a sidegig as a cozy game streamer with the name cherrycasual.

6. What was the thought process behind their appearance? Did you go mostly for the aesthetic or are there other reasons they look the way they do?

i wanted her to look long, gangly, and awkward, constantly folding up on herself to make herself small. i love drawing exaggerated turtleneck sweaters so i gave her my personal aversion to having my neck touched. her style of dress is meant to be very like, academic who knows she needs to dress professionally but isn't very good at picking out outfits and really has no fashion sense, so as soon as she found something comfortable and appropriate she just filled her wardrobe with those exact clothes. her hair wasn't initially intended to mimic the friend's tendrils but it's come to in recent years, which i adore. i did redesign her a bit to look more like dev patel (before i decided she was trans) bc i was smitten with him, so that was a big influence!

7. What is an aspect of their appearance that you like the most?

HER HAAAIR i love her hair. i have a very specific way i like to draw her hair and i get very fussy about getting it exactly right. i tend to draw it wayyy too big most of the time but i just get lost in the lovely curves and curls! i love her hair.

12. Do you have a playlist for the character? What songs do you associate with them and why?

AHH YES LET ME LINK ALL MY CHARACTER PLAYLISTS!!

Sal & Friend

Lazarus

Diana

John

Boots

The Menagerie

TMBG-Only Underbelly Playlist

[ealvara7]

Beetlejuice the Cartoon Series - My Thoughts! (Seasons 1 and 2) ✨️

I decided to write my thoughts about the cartoon as notes in my drafts so I could continue adding on to it as I was watching the series. These are my thoughts for Seasons 1 and 2!

Since I have a lot that I want to say, I will be adding a "read-more" link so you can continue scrolling. Either way, thank you for reading this! ✨️

-

I've seen both intros briefly before jumping into the series, and they are absolutely amazing! However, this part from the first intro to just has to be my favorite... 💚 🖤

I like to think that all versions of Beetlejuice are capable of adding whatever they'd like to their outfit in this manner! ✨️

-

"Well here I am at the Neitherworld Shocking Mall, with grossness wall to wall... but am I shopping for myself? No... I have to buy something for her [Lydia]." (Critter Sitters, Season 1)

Okay... I get the appeal of Toonjuice now.

I mean, I technically have for a little while (watching short YouTube compilations of the show has helped), but there's something about the way Stephen Ouimette plays Beetlejuice that really drives home to me how charming, albeit manipulative, Beetlejuice can be. The way he delivers this line in the show is a good example of that.

I'm also starting to understand how Toonjuice has influenced Musicaljuice's characterization. Both of them begin their respective shows in the same fashion - speaking to the audience. It's something that has honestly become a bit of a comfort for me. Like yeah, this is Beetlejuice.

-

I. Love. Lydia's. Outfits! 💖

I've loved toon Lydia's design since the moment I saw it, but seeing her other outfits truly cements how much I adore her design.

-

"Yeeuck! A cutesy woodland creature!" (Skeletons in the Closet, Season 1)

In some Broadway performances of the musical (based on multiple clips of bootlegs I have found), Alex Brightman, as Beetlejuice, will place a lot more emphasis on his disgust over Lydia's affection towards her mom:

"Why would anyone wanna spend more time with their mother?! YEEUCK!"

The cadence on how he says "yuck" feels reminiscent of Ouimette's version (specifically in the line I had highlighted earlier). I wouldn't be surprised if Alex was inspired by the cartoon for this line.

-

I've talked a bit about Ouimette's voice acting earlier, so I'd like to hand the spotlight over to Alyson Court for a moment-

I really like her take on Lydia! She's makes her feel a lot more lively and enthusiastic in this version! I personally love characterizing Lydia as a little more of an upbeat goth girl in the musical, thanks in part to the cartoon.

-

Before I even jumped into the cartoon series, I was already interested to see how they would depict Lydia's school life. While watching, I was coming up with ideas as to what I would like to see in a potential musical cartoon for Beetlejuice.

Personally, I love the idea of Lydia having best friends who may not understand her strangeness, but still appreciate her for who she is. It's a concept that I could personally connect with. I can also see Claire being in the cartoon reboot, but rewritten to be more inspired by Regina George from the Mean Girls musical instead.

-

I like the dynamic Beetlejuice and Lydia have in the cartoon! Beetlejuice is a chaotic entity, which will occasionally butt heads with Lydia's down-to-earth attitude. Sometimes it can be hard for her to trust Beetlejuice for help, because of the way he approaches things, but it's nice to see the moments where she can appreciate what he has done for her.

He may not be good person, but he will still do whatever it takes to see his best friend happy.

-

I'm in love with Toonjuice's cowboy outfit... 💖

I'm a huge fan of big ascots, and the usage of plain white for the pants, gloves, and hat is a very nice touch! It helps to balance out the stripes on his shirt!

He's my inspiration for Musicaljuice's cowboy design! I just really like the silhouette that this outfit gives!

-

I forgot to mention this earlier, but I now understand Delia's reference to having a cat in the musical! His name is Percy in the cartoon, and I've seen some artists acknowledge him in fanart!

Personally, I believe he passed away long ago... hence why you don't see him in the musical. It was one of Delia's lowest moments in her life, but it was the one that finally pushed her to look at the bright side of things. She believes it's what Percy would've wanted.

I haven't had a chance to draw Delia yet, but if I do, I want her to have a locket with a bunch of crystals around it that holds Percy's picture. 💗 🐈‍⬛️

-

That concludes my thoughts for Seasons 1 and 2! ✨️

I initially planned to take notes for the entire series in this post, but truth be told... it's been taking me some time to go through the whole show, due to my job and whatnot. With Season 4 being the longest of the series, I will have to come back to this some other time.

That being said... I'm beginning to understand better why a plethora of fans for the musical, especially those who are also fans of the cartoon, express such a great interest in a cartoon reboot.

I joined the fandom with my main interest being the YouTube animatic side of musicals. I've always enjoyed hearing others discuss the process of animation, and I enjoy seeing how it influences character design. Watching this cartoon has made me realize how much of an impact it has made to how we perceive Beetlejuice as a character.

Toonjuice is not only the first instance of a demon-based Beetlejuice, he is also the first instance of a morally grey one. He helped to create the foundation for Musicaljuice, who I believe has shown massive potential for a cartoon series of his own.

The possibility of Beetlejuice the Musical getting its own cartoon series seems to be highly unlikely, but one can only dream...