#THEIR FACES ARE TOO HUMAN LOOKING

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

july 18, 2021 7:00 a.m. cathal and eimear's house

[spacebubblehomebase]

I LOVE YOUR AU SO MUCH GIVES ME HAPPY TINGLES AND I'VE BEEN HYPERFIXATING ON IT FOREVEER YOU ARE ONE AMAZING AU WRITER!! (me when author creates another amazing masterpiece) (you)!

THANK YOU! TvT I know I mostly post art, but writing is also one of my passions!!! So it's nice to know you're enjoying the story so far. 🥹🙏 Even though we just got past the introduction stage. But if you already like what we have for now, let me just say none of y'all are READY for when we reach the turning point of my AU! "The Dreamers" is the goal at the moment. That's all I'm gonna say. 😉✨ So as we wait, have this lil' doodle I made up just cause I remembered I can!

Till then! =D

-Bubbly💙

[fellomen]

people finding it difficult to read mohg's facial expressions because of his fangs, and him learning to exaggerate them so they register better as a result

but also. mohg using a human guise and still doing this unconsciously. you're listening to one of ansbach's nostalgic stories and turn to mohg who's just

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny slowly lowered himself down onto Luther's newest death machine thanks to his bat themed grappling hook. Making special care not to let his heart beat or his lungs take in breath lest Superman hear him and intervene, he used his intangibility to sink into the machine itself to steal its parts.

Yeah, so a full white outfit wasn't the best choice for stealth, but it was better than dressing like a traffic light. Plus the black gloves and boots made him feel nostalgic. It had been only seven months since the accident that took his life, so much has happened since then.

Biting his lip as he smiled as he began gathering up parts and wires with his intangibility and placing them into his bag. Lastly he grabbed the power source, which-surprise, surprise, is kryptonite.

After he grabbed what he wanted he quickly stuck a note on the maintenance panel of the machine for when someone opened it and discovered it now had a large hollow space, then simply sank down through the floor and flew to freedom.

Danny sighed once he was clear. Or, at least he thought he was.

"Young man." Crud. Danny turned around to see big blue floating behind him in all his red underwear glory. Great. "I believe you have something that doesn't belong to you." The Kryptonian said, looking pointedly at the large chunk of kryptonite Danny held under his arm.

Instead of an excuse, Danny got an idea. "Uh, hello? Recognize the mask?" He said, gesturing to his face.

Superman narrowed his eyes, staring at his face for a few very long seconds and just as Danny was about to cut his losses and book it out of there, a look of recognition graced the heros face. Sweet. "Thats Nightwings mask."

"Yeah. Just smaller."

Superman nodded, then asked, "Why aren't you wearing a bat symbol? I wouldn't have thought you were a thief if I knew you were working with Batman." Danny had to fight to keep his face neutral.

"I haven't decided what symbol I want on my suit yet." And that was true. Danny wasn't sure he wanted any symbol at all. The mark of the bat would mean that he belonged in the batclan, and Danny was a lone ghost. A wandering spirit if you will. He didn't belong anywhere.

Some small part of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Jazz said that might be one of the reasons he's been behaving so poorly lately, but he brushed it off. Superman just nodded sagely. Danny doubted he actually knew how Danny felt and was just nodding along to appear sympathetic. Adults lie, and they lie often. Danny kinda hated them for it.

"Well, I'm kinda on a deadline, so I should get going. Crime to fight, goth furry to annoy, you know how it is." Danny said, waving the arm that wasn't carrying the kryptonite around in the air before using it to readjust the bags strap on his shoulder.

"Alright," superdude smiled warmly, "Tell Batman I said hi." Danny grinned back at him as he jogged away, "Will do!"

That went better than expected. Thank you, Nightwing~! The boy thought to himself as he ran off into a secluded area and turned invisible and flying away.

Just imagining Supermans face if- no- when Batman finally breaks and tells the Justice League about the little menace thats been stealing all his and his sidekicks stuff for the last few weeks nearly sends Danny into hysterics.

Danny still has Robins sword mounted above the fireplace in his favorite safe house in Costa del Sol. Red Hoods "favorite" motorcycle was in its garage and Red Robins wrist computer and chest harness thing were mounded in a glass case next to the first thing he stole from them:

Batmans utility belt.

Sure, its a pain to remove all the tracking stuff from them, but man is he proud of those accomplishments.

Still. Its better to leave Metropolis after he got caught by Superman. Its only a mater of time before someone finds out about the old switcheroo he pulled at the last museum robbery and that combined with the bodies of those creepy rich guys he had killed (human trafficer buyers) well, surely Batman has noticed he had been gone for a while and would pick up on the matching M.O. in Metropolis.

Time to bounce.

[silusvesuius]

testing out drawing maormer 🪸🐚🪸 and a nelvas 🧣📜🩷 i'll ramble about maormer a bit in the tags

[turtleblogatlast]

Something I think is cute is that - y’know how Raph’s eyes are more on the yellow side?

Well, you know who also has slightly yellowed eyes? Donnie.

While Raph’s are more yellow, I think it’s cute that this is something that they share and I don’t see it pointed out too often?

It’s also something they both share with Draxum and Splinter’s current form (though again, these two have much more yellow sclera than the boys do.)

But yeah, I like that there’s this little detail that ties Raph and Donnie together, even if it’s small.

[king-magppi]

❤️I hear Canada is very lovely this time of year🇨🇦

[fisheito]

rereading the nuca pink doujin and seeing yakumo tear himself apart re: his snake form vs his human form all this agony and self-doubt and silent suffering and fear of rejection like "if i looked less human would u hate me" , "if u saw me in my true form wouldn't that be horrible. terrifying. disgusting" , "if i admitted i want to swallow you whole would you think worse of me"

and i imagine him asking something like this to the crowd of clan members , who are , undeniably,, a group of Kinky Fuckers

they all smile with the serenity and carefully masked excitement of a horny olivine. masterful beautiful reassuring expressions (errr..... masked to different degrees depending on the clan member)

[seefasters]

my take on the steeplechase trio (and montrose’s mask variants)

[ch1zzie]

It's waldy

Futur water too but not done

[broken-risk-assessment-module]

The Adaptation That Shall Not Be Named aside, I had an idea for an interesting way you could represent ART in a visual medium: it's cameras.

We know that, in any visual medium, what The Camera (be that literal in film or figurative in animation) chooses to show and focus on is important. Its the primary way the piece of media communicates to its audience, and the framing of a scene tells us a lot about how we're supposed to interpret it. What is on screen and how it's on screen convey authorial intent.

Take all that, and turn "authorial intent" into character expression (in this case, for ART). A conversation between Murderbot and ART that would traditionally be shot-reverse-shot becomes shot-ARTPOVshot, so both shots would be of Murderbot, but one would be from The Camera and one would be from ART. Even though the subject is the same, the difference between them could show us something about ART in the same way a reverse shot shows us something about any other character.

To me its like those shots from a monster's POV in horror movies, where one second you're with your protagonists, the next you're watching them from a far off angle between some blades of grass, shaky cam, ragged breathing. It's a classic, even a cliche, but it does the job of conveying the sense of unsafety, of Something Out There Watching Them, of monstrosity, of something feral and dangerous. All without needing to see the monster. What if that type of shot was all we ever got of a character?

(Also, in all honesty, some of my favourite meta about this series is how it's in conversation with the horror genre. ART and SecUnits being the type of characters that would be The Monster in another story, or from another perspective, is compelling to me, so i'm drawing on that a bit here. The idea of characterising but not visualising ART by taking pages out of horror monster cinematography? I just think it's neat.)

Anyway, you could also do all the sci-fi Augmented Vision stuff with it too. ART POV shots where we watch it pull up a feed tab over the camera feed and replay a section of audio, or check Murderbot's diagnostics, or look at Some Code Or Perhaps A Graph. ART POV shots that are broken into multiple feeds showing different things. ART POV shots that give you the sense of it being textually present without it being physically present.

You could use some of this for Murderbot itself, if you leant into how its drones are an extension of its awareness. You could even use it in a similar way to how Murderbot uses its narration, narrating less when it's upset as well as leaving out major details. What if, when Murderbot is tired of people looking at it or in a more vulnerable headspace, we get more drone POV shots without Murderbot in frame. It's still there, but present in a different way, behind The Camera rather than in front of it.

I think there's potential in using POV shots from ART's cameras to characterise it without visualising it in a traditional way. I think there's potential in using horror movie monster language on ART and Murderbot. I think there's potential in having the cinematography focus on what they're seeing in a way that emphasises the amount of Surveillance both of them are constantly doing.

I think there's potential in a show using The Camera as cleverly as the books use Narration.

[medicsbigburlychest]

the face of “i’m cooked.”

[marlynnofmany]

Seeing Faces

It’s rare when we get a shipment to deliver that’s not packaged somehow — either in Earth-standard boxes, another world’s version of shipping crates, or a livestock pen of some kind. Even that bunch of alien trees had been thoroughly wrapped at the bottom. But this collection of machinery parts didn’t have so much as a layer of cling-wrap on it. I guess the owners figured these things were sturdy enough not to need it.

They were probably right. The metal chunks were heavy. I tried to guess what they were made for as Blip and Blop muscled the biggest ones onto a hover sled, clearing the way for Paint and me to gather up the smaller pieces. Captain Sunlight bid the customer farewell and shut the cargo bay door.

“I think these look like vertebrae,” I said to Paint. “Greasy vertebra. Ew. I’m going to need a new shirt.” The offworld engine oil of whatever didn’t seem acidic at least, so that was nice. I sighed about the black smears.

“Strange vertebrae,” Paint said, juggling her own armload of odd shapes that didn’t seem to be rubbing off on her orange scales. Not that I was jealous or anything. “There would need to be a dual spinal cord.” She tapped a claw on one of the holes.

“Hm, yeah. There are probably animals like that,” I said. “Or robots, as the case may be.”

Ahead of us, Captain Sunlight opened the door to the appropriate storage hold, then headed off on captainly business. It was impressive how different a vibe she gave off compared to Paint, for all their physical similarities. Both were little lizardy people, but one strode with her lemon-yellow head held high, every inch the authority figure, while the other was Paint. She somehow bounced when she walked, even when weighted down by unwieldy metal things.

“I’ll bet these stack really well,” Paint said. “They look like they interlock. We could probably build a spinal column without them falling over.”

“We probably could,” I agreed. “But I don’t want to be the one responsible for bending one of the flanges because we wanted to test it out.”

“Hm. Yep yep yep. But I maintain that we could.”

“We could.”

The two of us entered the storage hold to find Blip and Blop racing to see who could unload the sled faster. It’s not that the Frillian twins were overly competitive, but they were twins. They’d apparently hatched at the same time, and had been in a low-key competition to see who was better at life ever since. But they smiled while they did it.

“Done!” Blip declared, setting down a lump of metal big enough for Paint to hide behind. She raised her hands in triumph, fins fluttering.

“Doesn’t count,” Blop said as he put down his own piece. “You didn’t line them up right. Mine are tidier.”

They squabbled about this while Paint and I unloaded our metal chunks nearby. I had to kneel to keep from dropping the things. It would be just my luck if they did warp on impact, or bounce off each other and whack me in the shin.

The Frillians took their debate out the door before I finished. They’d already moved on to who could steer the hoversled with the minimum of touching.

“Ha,” Paint said. “They do stack.”

I turned to see only one of the things set on top of another, with Paint ready to catch it if it slid. She took it down before I could say anything.

I just nodded and arranged my own into a reasonable huddle, then wiped my hands on my shirt. It was only when I moved toward the door, with a look back at the big pieces, that I got a good look at the one that Blop had set on its side.

This was the logical place to put it, not sticking out past the rest, but the thing that caught my attention was the shape when seen from this angle. Those two holes could have been eyes, and the flanges were shaped like stubby arms. There were even a couple slots in the middle like nostrils.

I burst out laughing.

“What?” Paint demanded.

“It looks like Zhee!” I said, pointing. “Big bug eyes and everything!”

“What does?” Paint asked. She came to stand next to me, following my arm, but just looked confused. “Where are the eyes?”

“These!” I said, stepping closer and pointing at the holes. “And those are the arms. Isn’t it perfect?”

Paint cocked her head as if slightly tilted vision could unlock the answers. “Arms?”

I repeated myself, but she still looked lost, so I found a notepad and pencil in a storage cupboard —reliable even when the batteries all run out — and sketched what I saw.

“Ohh, I get what you mean now,” Paint said when I showed her. “Those parts are lifted like pincher arms, and those are roughly the same proportion as Mesmer eyes.”

“Yeah, it’s uncanny,” I said.

Paint took the notepad to study it closer. “How did you even notice that?”

“It was pretty easy,” I told her. “It just jumped out at me when I looked from the right direction. Like seeing faces in clouds, you know?”

Paint’s blank expression said that she didn’t know.

“Do you not do that? Find patterns of familiar shapes in random things?”

“No?” she replied. “Is that a thing I’m supposed to be doing?”

“You don’t have to! It’s just something that everybody does on Earth, ever since we’re kids. It’s probably from a long history of watching for camouflaged predators in the bushes. You’ve got camouflage on your planet, right? You must.”

“Yeah, sure,” Paint said easily. “But I guess not that much. I’ve never seen a face in a cloud; that sounds terrifying.”

“Not really; it’s more like feeling smart for spotting something. Well,” I amended. “It could be a little unsettling if you see a skull or something. But that’s rare. There are whole systems of divination about this sort of thing.”

Paint looked like she was about to ask a million questions, but right then the sound of familiar clicking footsteps tapped down the hall.

“Zhee!” Paint called, whirling with the notebook in her hand. “Zhee, look what Robin saw!”

Zhee came into view looking just as eyecatching and purple as usual, halting at the doorway while Paint eagerly explained the conversation we’d just had. Quickly and enthusiastically. With lots of waving the sketch around, and pointing back at the machine part.

I felt like apologizing as he stared with an unreadable alien expression. His antennae weren’t even moving; I couldn’t tell what he thought of it all.

Finally Paint finished talking. “She says it’s probably because her species watches for predators in the bushes. Isn’t that amazing?”

Zhee made a point of looking slowly from the sketch to the metal thing, then to me. I braced myself for judgement.

Instead, Zhee raised his pincher arms into the same pose and declared, “I am the danger that lurks in the bushes.” Then he slunk out of sight, many legs scuttling in a quickstep way that he knew darn well I found creepy.

Paint blinked at the empty doorway, still holding the notebook.

“Aw, man,” I said. “He’s picking things up from Trrili.”

Paint immediately closed the notebook. “We definitely shouldn’t show her.”

“Agreed!” I said.

After a moment of thought, Paint tore the page out and handed it to me, then took the notebook back to the cupboard. I pocketed it with a final glance at the metal vertebra that looked remarkably like a cartoonish Mesmer squaring up for battle.

Someone had left a roll of no-residue marking tape on a box nearby. I grabbed a strip and stuck it onto the metal, with the ends curved up.

Now the thing had a goofy grin that possibly no one would recognize. But if there were any humans on the receiving end of this delivery, they ought to get a good laugh out of it.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

[kastalani123]

Consider:

Leo Valdez was not born. Instead, two pairs of hands form him from bronze and steel and gold. His hair is copper wires so thin they bounce like natural curls, and his eyes glimmer with silver flakes. The joints of his body are plated so delicately, so perfectly, the segments are near indiscernible, smoothly gliding over each other. Faint traces of fingerprints and flecks of impurity are deliberately left behind for their uniqueness, a form of impossible signature of his creators.

Most importantly, gilded bars curl around each other in his chest, protecting the red-red-red flame that pushes his eyes open everyday, that beats in tune with his thoughts, that heats his body to expand and grow.

A metal child is not so different from a human one, and yet is so far from it at the same time. He is curious, about the world, about himself, and he picks apart toys and TV remotes and his arms, spilling their secrets before his constantly shifting eyes. He does not cry from fatigue or thirst or hunger, but a bump, a dent, a scratch never fail to draw tears. He splashes in the rain and snow, carefully bundled in waterproof coats and jackets, and runs from baths like he's possessed, fire flickering in fear.

The first time he meets someone like him, an endeavour he had long thought hopeless, it is a malfunctioning dragon others call for the death of; he is too unpredictable, too dangerous, too broken. Leo looks him in ever-shifting eyes glimmering with silver and sees himself if the cage in his chest ever bends, cracks, shatters, if the gears beneath his skin ever jam and stick and wear down irreversibly.

It is not golden flowers and godly aid that preserve him; just as he'd done for his twin-in-all-but-appearance, he creates a new body, with new fingerprints and impurities mapping his design. His hair is more bronze than copper, now, and his eyes more gold than brass. The plates of his joints scrape against each other faintly, and the gears of his bones grind together uncomfortably — he only had so much time, so much material to use, he could not polish every element of himself in the way he wished, but it holds together.

Most importantly, he reinforces the cage in his chest, coats it in layers upon layers of metal, to ensure his flame will not go out in the explosion, that Festus will be able to salvage it and lay it gently in the chest cavity carefully carved in his new body, bringing it to life.

He returns to Camp, movements more clunky and mechanical than should be, and his siblings finally pin down his segmented limbs, his shifting eyes, his clicking fidgeting. They are ecstatic, just as fascinated with him as they had been with Festus, and he lets them. He lets them take him apart, piece by piece, clean out the sand of Ogygia from his organs, polish and oil his gears until they glide against each other, press new fingerprints, new signatures of belonging, against his skin.

Most importantly, they craft him a secure, intricate cage, with golden flames licking up the bars, with delicate chains shielding it from the elements, and his flame settles inside it, flickering happily, finally truly, truly comfortable in the cage of his body.

Leo Valdez may not have been born, but he was crafted with the most loving hands imaginable, and is that not so much better, for a son of the Craftsman?

[averlym]

litany of the martyrs (click for better resolution!)

[system-architect]

saw ppl debating if asura are furries (my favorite silly gw2 argument) and i DO consider asura furries actually but in a really specific way. this is my vision: