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the-sage-libriomancer · 11 months

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i try not to overthink the worldbuilding in Scoob and Shag because it's a thin premise that can't withstand much scrutiny (especially stuff relating to Toone), but i did have some thoughts that don't blow up the story's logic, so.

-first of all, the concept of "cartoon characters = actors" is inherently fascinating. especially since a lot of the actors seem to be government workers as well, implying the government used their own staff along with professional actors (like Yoge). what was the criteria? did they just have to look human? did Toone write show premises around whatever "characters" they had available? maybe that would explain some illogical plots and clunky lines in saturday morning cartoons - the actors didn't have much acting experience, and for all we know the writers were entry-level accountants.

-ballyhoo is also fascinating. it's basically a living metaphor for how an audience can influence their media: a toon's ballyhoo is directly empowered by how much love the human population gives them, just like how enough love of a fictional character makes them popular enough to keep appearing in media. it increases their strength (bc they have influence over the world) and extends their lifespan (bc they don't "die" until people stop caring about them), and all the ballyhoos are named after tv/movie terms like Picture in Picture or Jump Cut, implying that using tv/movie screens as a medium influences what sort of abilities they can get.

-the fact that too much ballyhoo causes you to instinctively, uncontrollably break the fourth wall is super fun and super fascinating and (as Bugs demonstrates) super horrifying. too much energy from meta sources causes the confines of your narrative to break down, leaving you in a weird spot in-between your world and a world you can't see.

-i can't stop thinking about The Inspector's backstory. it's just so tragic. born an android, given a literal soulmate shortly after creation, constantly looked down upon for not having a ballyhoo, losing his soulmate to old age, then losing his home to a war caused by the very thing you were devalued for not having. Bugs said that a toon's ballyhoo can extend their lifespan (likely bc a character who's beloved by fans doesn't really die), so the fact that Penny got old and died means she wasn't popular enough with the humans, which makes sense - Inspector Gadget is the iconic one after all. he's the one who everyone loved and remembered, and it was completely useless to him because he didn't have ballyhoo. no wonder he never smiles.

-i just realized that the Inspector was forced to leave Penny's grave behind when he escaped Toone. he can never visit her again :(

-speaking of screen partners, i love thinking about how the dynamics in cartoon series translate into real life and vice versa. it's a chicken and egg question: did certain characters land roles together because they were friends, or did they become friends because they worked together as actors? were Spongebob and Patrick actually buddies? did Felix the Cat work with Mick back in the beginning days of sending broadcasts? what's Scooby's professional opinion on Scrappy-Doo?

-(i wonder if you could justify the short period in Scooby-Doo history where Shaggy and Scooby were the only members of the gang regularly appearing in shows as "the government needed a way to keep the dangerous terrorists busy so they literally Could Not let those two stop appearing in things" asjhshbjahsjahsja)

-i I love that all the commanders are cartoon characters who were so popular/beloved that they seeped into (usamerican) popular culture: Mickey Mouse, Homer Simpson, Bugs Bunny, etc. They were the most powerful because their cartoons became the powerhouses of their respective eras - you can't get more loved than them.

-i wonder if the Simpsons were basically an ageless family back on Toone because they're still popular even after 40+ years, halting their aging. actually, i bet a lot of toons stopped aging after ballyhoo became commonplace. if your lifespan was defined by how loved you were by a fickle human audience, how do you think that affected relationships? it must've been hard if you had a tangible, literally life-affecting gauge of how popular you are according to alien beings you've never met.

-i was thinking about why Kermit is included as an mc when he's a muppet and the other toons are strictly western animation characters. the doylist explanation is that the author hadn't decided to limit the media used (similar to how Mario and Goku appear in early episodes), but i have a watsonian theory. i think Kermit is from the old Muppet Babies saturday morning cartoon, all grown up. he might've been a child actor who stayed with the government even after aging out, possibly explaining why there aren't any other muppets: they left the business and probably didn't escape Toone as a result.

-relatedly: my headcanon is that traditional (i.e. not toon-led) animation IS possible in this universe, and any animated project not usamerican is created that way. so anime is to the toons as a cg character is to humans, and the Goku pic is the equivalent of...i dunno, a photo of Avatarized Jake Sully lol.

-the fact that anime characters apparently didn't exist on Toone is probably for the best. can you imagine how powerful characters like Sasuke and Bakugo would be lmao.

-lastly, i was thinking about the old gods (or whatever they are). i'm pretty sure they're beings who exist behind the fourth wall. when Dee is pulled into the purple one's domain, she at first sees it as a wide open area in space, but then she starts processing it as more of a glass cube, with one huge window screen, large tubes, and wires running through the floating spheres - not unlike being held inside a tv. the purple god even says that staying too long will cause her mind to "shatter under the weight of reality" which...i think discovering you're actually a fictional character in a webcomic would do that to you. so the gods "interfering" is them going against the story's narrative to give the characters a boost. (this might tie into who Bugs is talking to when he/she addresses the camera - it's not technically us, it's the gods behind the wall.)

i have other thoughts but uh. this post is probably long enough.

#scoob and shag #analysis #i just finished rereading the webcomic and i'm obsessed with it again #there's so much going on and so much still untold #the metaness of it all is so much fun to read!#i love not knowing which characters will show up #and how their cartoons will be molded into new backstories #every single one always hits me like a truck #sage speaketh #i hope it updates again. i miss it #edited for your convenience #<- just cleaned up some wording + formatting

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merakiui · 2 years

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some thoughts about jade leech as a stalker.

(cw: yandere, nsfw, stalking, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, mentions of death/strangulation)

Jade does not love often. In fact, he has a rather small supply of love, which is reserved for his hobbies and family, so when he loves something other than those two things it can only mean trouble. When Floyd has something special and doesn’t share... Well, naturally Jade’s going to want it. He’s never been inherently greedy. Rather, he’s always let Floyd have everything: the larger half of a bluefin tuna, the shinier stone, the bigger seashells, the slice of cake with more frosting, his uniforms whenever Floyd’s were dirtied or damaged. And in return Floyd has, for the most part, shared his things with Jade. This has always been their normal.

But this time Floyd makes no mention of sharing when it comes to you. In the past, when they were particularly interested in someone, they would share them. Or, in other words, torment that person in equal succession. Azul has been their prime target for years now, and it doesn’t look like either of them will stop their relentless pursuit in seeing how fast they can get Azul to grouse or groan or sigh. You might think they live to see Azul’s misery, but truthfully they want to accompany Azul as he carves misery into the hearts of the poor, unfortunate souls who thought it wise to do business with deep-sea beasts. Teasing him is just a bonus.

When it comes to you, Floyd is his usual authentic self: blunt and honest to a fault, dangerously so. But that’s what makes his twin so fun. Floyd won’t sugarcoat the obvious. If he dislikes you, he’ll make it known. Jade, on the other hand, will speak syrupy sweet lies in an effort to maintain proper goodwill, even if he detests you. You’ve never really interested Jade, so he can’t say he hates you. But he can’t say he loves you either. To him, you are just a powerless human in a habitat that does not suit you. Really, even with all of the tricks and traps you pulled to beat Azul at his own game, you remained boring to him. He didn’t pay you much mind after everything had been resolved and you’d been free to return to Ramshackle. That should have been the end of his story with you.

But then, some time later, you start to make frequent appearances at the lounge. It doesn’t take Jade long to learn that you only show up when Floyd’s on shift, and it also doesn’t take him long to theorize that you might have fallen for his brother’s unique charms. It’s sweet, in a way, how Floyd lights up when he sees you, how you smile a little more brightly when he speaks to you, how your laughter is so very buoyant when Floyd lifts you into the air and spins you happily. Jade’s content to watch from the sidelines, pleased to know that his brother has found a friend in you. That might make it easier to trick you into a contract.

He’s so set in this way of thinking, only viewing you as a pawn or a stepping stone towards some bigger end goal. But when Floyd brings you back to the dorm and you become more than a constant in Jade’s life, he starts to wonder what makes you so special. What is it about you that has his brother so enamored? What makes you irresistible? What parts of you are appealing? Jade thinks it might be how quick it is you submit when Floyd’s got you pinned into the mattress, face first, rough hands spreading your thighs apart, so he can sink into you more easily. Floyd likes that; he likes the weak things that crumble under him. He likes to push things to breaking. He likes to mark and bite and bloody and bruise and shred.

Jade likes to fix. He likes to mend, and then break, and then mend all over again. He likes the process, the psychological science behind a simple gesture, much like how he takes great pleasure in playing god over the plants in his terrariums. They say a budding serial killer starts small—with animals like rabbits or squirrels or cats. Jade starts with plants. He’ll put them in stressful environments—in soils with nutrients that don’t quite work—and he’ll watch them wilt, mottle, mold, and decay. He’ll watch them struggle to adapt, he’ll watch them yearn for water or sunlight, and only when he’s certain they’ve had enough he’ll give them proper, healthy care. It’s fun, the way he has so much control over something as dynamic as a plant. But plants cannot protest, cannot fight back, cannot act in the same way humans do.

But it’s quite satisfying to pluck dried petals from a withered flower, almost like a morbid game of effeuiller la marguerite, and not hear a single scream.

So Jade is fully expecting Floyd to tire of you, to break you enough until boredom sinks its fangs into him and he moves on with his life. And what Floyd breaks Jade fixes, so he’s very ready to glue your heart together when Floyd shatters it. He’s ready to offer a handkerchief and his ear should you need to vent. He’s already prepared his speech: “I must apologize on behalf of Floyd. You know very well how he gets. If I can be of assistance in any way, please let me know.”

Unfortunately, you remain intact. Months pass, Floyd continues to love you, and your relationship unfolds like a lotus in early morning. Jade continues to observe. Floyd has never been one for privacy, so he’s seen every kiss, every bite, every inch of exposed skin. Hell, he’s sat at his desk and tallied Mostro Lounge’s monthly expenses while Floyd fucked you dumb on the other side of the room. He’s even made eye contact with you when you happened to gaze his way while his twin was buried balls-deep in that tight hole of yours. He wonders what goes on in that head of yours. Perhaps there’s nothing substantial within. Floyd’s scrambled your brains enough, so you could just be useless now. Though that wouldn’t be very fun, would it? He knows there’s more to you than you let on, especially when you play top and take every inch of Floyd, riding him so skillfully, and all Floyd can do is dig his fingers into your hips to guide you along to the rough, erratic pace the both of you have set.

Jade watches fondly from the shadows. Floyd likes to have access to your neck and shoulders; he likes to take you from behind while leaning down to bite into soft flesh. But Jade thinks it would be much nicer to gaze upon your face, to kiss salt from your eyes, to pepper your jawline with tiny pecks, all while peering into eyes that house a beautiful soul. He thinks it would be nice to hold you down, have your legs wrapped around his waist or thrown up onto his shoulders, while he bottoms out. If it were Jade, he’d take you in every position, but he’d find the most pleasure in eye contact. There’s something intimate about it, much like how there’s intimacy in the hands that wrap around a throat. You have to be close to someone when you’re restricting their airflow; you have to squeeze until veins pop, until your hands are sore, until your fingernails have burrowed so deeply into skin that the crescent moons color crimson. It takes minutes to strangle someone, and every minute is spent staring into the wide, terrified eyes of a desperate soul on the verge of death.

Jade likes the way you smell, the way you speak, the way you laugh, the way you are, in every meaning of the word, so very filled with life. Even down to the way you breathe and gasp and moan and cry, you are life itself. Jade wants to bottle that for himself—pluck you from Floyd’s flower pot and place you in a terrarium with the most potent elements just to see how long you’d fare. He wants to save you from those same conditions, sandwich your face between gloved hands when he’s kneeled to your lowered height, and whisper about how it’s okay, about how you’re safe, about how he’d never truly hurt you. Jade knows that loving someone is a very special thing, but the way he loves you is not quite pleasant. The love he has for his hobbies and family is natural. Normal. Simplistic and familial.

The love he has for you is murderous and frightening. Some days he looks at you like you’re prey he’s not yet devoured. Like you’re to be his first victim.

Jade starts small. He takes tiny trinkets—a keychain, a pencil, an accessory. He stores these in a shoe box under his bed. When Floyd brings you over and clothes are cast aside, he swipes your undergarments for himself. He won’t wash them until he absolutely must. He’ll have the soft fabric wrapped around his dick later that same evening when Floyd’s fallen asleep and he’s up late contemplating love and lust and life and death, and he’ll cum to the thought of you. Sweet, adorable, oblivious you.

He’s what one would call a persistence predator—a hunter who gradually wears his prey down over time. He takes from you, watches you, listens to you fret about missing things to Floyd, who promises to find the bastard who’s messing with you and squeeze them until they’re blue and purple. Jade smiles at that. Floyd wouldn’t really do that to him. Sure, they’ve hit each other when they’ve fought and roughhoused on occasion, but the punches were never truly meant. Sure, they might have been thrown playfully or angrily, but they were all temporary bouts of strength. Floyd wouldn’t truly hurt him, so to hear these determined promises and to see how you relax around him... It’s really cute. Jade wonders how much more he can take from you.

And he wonders how much more you can take before you’re splintering.

Really, you got lucky that Floyd picked you first. He’s far more merciful. Far more sweeter. Far more loving. At least Floyd is honest with his (at times) rough nature. At least he makes it known that he wants to bite you until you’re bleeding. But Floyd can’t stand whining. He hates it when people cry about things he can’t bother to care about, and lately you’ve been whining about this stalker you think you have for weeks now. Floyd’s told you you’re just being a scared shrimpy—that there is no stalker, that you’re probably just misplacing or losing these items, that none of them really matter because they’re replaceable.

Jade gets lucky when Floyd finally washes his hands of you, officially fed up with your whining. And what Floyd damages Jade fixes. So when you’re in tears, distraught over the break-up and your missing items and your stalker and the fact that the door to Ramshackle was left unlocked again and that you feel like someone’s living in your shadow, Jade arrives to rescue you from your fear. You don’t even hesitate to cling to him and cry, spilling your worries in waterfalls. Perhaps it’s because he’s a familiar face. He is a reflection of Floyd, after all.

“Oh dear,” he’ll whisper, stroking your back, allowing you to bury your face in his chest and sob. “There, there.”

You can’t see his expression, but there is a smile spreading on his lips. And his eyes are alight with cruel glee.

“Would it make you feel better if someone accompanied you to your classes?” Your feeble nod is all he needs. “In that case, shall I spend a few days at Ramshackle with you? I’m certain whoever’s pursuing you won’t get very far if I’m around.”

And he’s right. Your stalker never takes anything again. They never leave the front door unlocked. They never trail behind you, taking shelter in your shadow. That’s because he’s your stalker, though you never managed to figure that out, and this time he doesn’t have to dwell in shadows or on the sidelines. This time he can stand before you as a friend, a soon-to-be lover, and perhaps a lifelong mate.

Jade does not love often, but when he does it is as beautifully painful as tearing the wings from butterflies.

#meraki mumbles #yandere twst #n/sfw #i think my favorite thing about writing yandere jade is how brutal and remorseless he can be #it's probably because he grew up in the harsh environment of the sea #which would naturally harden anyone and make them more predatory than a prey #it's probably also why he (and floyd and azul) see nothing wrong with murder #yes it's morally wrong and very much illegal #but in the ocean it's eat or be eaten and really do you think jade is going to let some other predator snap his darling up? :)#challenge: write one yan jade thought without it spiraling into a thought about his murderous rizz #challenge failed </3 he is a walking danger you cannot tell me he wouldn't think of the most horrifying things when it comes to darling #more jade thoughts!!! consider an artist (painter/sculpter/etc) jade who is absolutely obsessed with you (the nude model from his art class)#because you're the one who has finally inspired him and broken his months-long artist's block #and also because he'd like to paint you in the most vicious red #or jade who has broken into your home and is living there in secret without you knowing #sometimes he sleeps under your bed just to hear your steady breaths #he never rearranges anything in your house but he does do the dishes or clean up messes you've made #you can never remember if or when you cleaned these things but you never think much of it #jade stands at your bedside when you sleep at night and he watches you #you'll happen to wake and you'll spot him but by the time you've scrambled to wake up and turn the lights on he'll already be gone #so you're left to wonder if he was ever there in the first place or if you were still dreaming #he is the terror that you will never see until it's too late

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