#also i say ‘transitioned’ but the only transitioning there is for a drone in this society is

[florshedworf]

well i didn’t mean for it to come to this but it came to me in a dream: trans uzi

[adispit]

The Aftermath

Alpha rival king x alpha m!reader

A mini part 2 of The Crown!

Warnings: dubcon, handjob, possessive Leo

note: yeah this isn’t really a smut centered piece more centered on the story also I didn’t beta read this so if there’s errors yeah 😭

Something was wrong. Your nape ached with a searing intensity, and your fangs felt inexplicably dull. The air around you reeked of something unmistakable—alpha. Jolting awake, your entire body ached with a deep, lingering pain. Wait a minute, this wasn’t your bed. Where were you?! These luxurious sheets were also something you couldn’t afford…even as a royal.

Your entire body reeked of alpha pheromones—clearly not your own. They carried a hint of musky leather and a scent reminiscent of stormy nights. What was even more concerning was the fact that your body responded in this scent—you liked it..! As an alpha! Panic and confusion surged through your mind as blurry afterimages of the previous night flashed through your thoughts in a matter of seconds. You felt your face flush red with humiliation and shame. Right. You had gotten…bitched. Bitched by Leo.

Sunlight streamed through the windows of your bedroom like any other ordinary day. Except it wasn’t. The clear and fresh humiliation seared and burned into your mind, your only remaining pride as an alpha remaining— completely shattered and destroyed. How could you have submitted! To the very man who invaded and conquered your country?! The man who ruthlessly slaughtered your countrymen…the very man who also mercilessly fucked you…on the throne. Embarrassment once again took ahold of you as your sore nape throbbed at the thought of the events of the previous night.

"You done wallowing in pity?" A cold, harsh voice sliced through your thoughts, snapping you back to reality. A slim and lean man stood at the foot of the bed you lay in, holding a clipboard. He emitted no scent and seemed to be a beta. “Who are you?!” you demanded, glaring at him with guarded suspicion.

“Calm down. I’m a private doctor who’s friends with Leo, he called for me to come examine you.” He rolled his eyes in irritation. “He doesn’t even pay me to deal with the bullshit I have to deal with…Anyways, you clearly went through a number. This guy initiated such a forceful bitching on the spot when you were clearly emotionally and mentally stimulated. Now the consequences of that is, due to the traumatic experience which was caused by the sudden change of your secondary gender, your body is in a pseudo-state of an omega. You aren’t really one right now, you still retain your alpha features….” Hearing the doctor ramble on, you blankly stared off into space.

An omega. You were now an omega. Why— “Hey! Are you listening?” He snapped his fingers. “Listen to what I say!” His frustration was evident in his growl. You blinked your eyes apologetically, trying to focus on his words. “As I was saying, you do still have your features as an alpha, those fangs can still mark someone and your cock still has a knot. Well, a rather pitiful one as of now though, I did have to examine you.” He shook his head in what seemed like gratuitous pity.

“However, your body is in a state of transition into an omega right now. You will leak slick and have random pseudo-heats until you have stabilised as an omega. Without the presence of Leo, the alpha who marked you, your body would not survive those heats and it would be fatal. This is also because of the heat you went through after he bit you.” He droned on monotonously. Like a knife through butter, your heart felt as though it was ripped open at the news.

This man was fucking sick. Everyone was fucking sick! Grinding your teeth in fury, you glared at the doctor in a fit of rage. “Okay, don’t shoot the messenger…just trying to do my job. Just have plenty of rest and with your alpha by your side. I’ll prescribe an ointment for that bite. And speak of the devil! I’ll go now.” He helplessly pinched the crease between his eyebrows before striding off. “How’s my wife doing?” A rich, magnetic voice echoed in the chamber as you were met with piercing blue eyes that seemed to engulf you in their entirety.

“Fuck off.” You spat at him with as much venom your hoarse voice could muster. A pitiful attempt that seemed to only make the teasing grin on his face grow bigger. If he hadn’t bitched and fucked you, you would have assumed this man would have been sent by the heavens to save you. “So feisty… love that about you, (Name),” he grinned, his eyes locked on you, seemingly ready to devour you at any moment.

“You’ve heard the man, as your husband and your alpha, I shall assist you through your heats and provide you with all the loving care you could ever need.” With a malice-filled smile, he manhandled you into a hug that seemed to steal your very breath away from you. “Ugh! Don’t- fucking touch me!” You struggled weakly, flailing your arms as he gripped onto you tighter at your resistance. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through your lower abdomen, causing you to collapse weakly into his arms.

Lightly caressing your cheek, he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek as he muttered for you to rest, clearly displeased. The rasp of his voice filled your ears as you couldn’t help but press your legs together unconsciously. Your heart pounded in your ears as blood rushed to your cheeks and also your… “Are you hard right now?” A hint of amusement in his voice cut through the heavy silence. “N-no! I’m…” Leaving no room for argument, he lifted up your flimsy gown to the sight of your pathetically erect cock, leaking beads of precum.

Huffing playfully, he palmed at your throbbing dick, earning a soft whine from you. Your eyes were half-lidded and glazed over with lust. Your mouth hung agape, forming words that didn’t exist with a voice you didn’t have in your efforts to comprehend the pleasure you were begrudgingly feeling. You didn’t want this. You didn���t want rough and calloused fingers so delicately brushing over your sensitive tip, making your insides twist and turn at the familiar delicious burn of pleasure.

Your head started to droop, but a sharp squeeze to your cock brought you back in an instant. “Are you enjoying yourself, (Name)?” Leo smiled, full of mirth but also of ill intentions. Slowly, he began to pump your member again, his cruel smile twisting upwards as he heard you let out a strangled moan. Glancing at yourself, you had no choice but admit you were a mess really. Your skin covered with a fine sheen of sweat as you panted laboriously and your hips involuntarily rocking into the warm hold of Leo’s fist.

Grunting disdainfully at the lack of response from you, Leo sighed into the crook of your neck, hot breath brushing against the very bite mark that seemed to burn. “You say you don’t want this though,” his hand crawled achingly slowly up to the desperately sensitive tip. “Maybe I should just leave you be. Just. Let. You. Be.” With each word he punctuated it with a gentle rub of the precum-soaked tip, you nearly found yourself sent over the edge from that alone. You were too close to stop now.

“Please…” A weak plea left your throat. You couldn’t help himself. You knew it was a mistake, but one your useless body was so desperate to make. This ache had to go away. “Please Leo…”Leo grinned victoriously. “Well, since you asked so nicely…” You smelt the air suddenly surge with pheromones. Ah. That soothing smell. Whilst seemingly suffocating in his pheromones, Leo increased the speed of his pumping, making you come undone with a silent scream as the exhaustion overtook you. Slumping down, you felt your taut body sink into his arms before once again passing out. “Fuck.” Leo looked down at the wet stain in his pants and the tent that wouldn’t go away.

A few years ago, under the cover of night, he had ventured out to the same forest clearing where he had once found solace. It was a place he had comforted you in before, though back then, you were both younger. As he arrived, ready to unleash his annoyance on the intruder, he was taken aback to find you huddled, trembling with unshed tears. Your defiant gaze intrigued him, and despite his initial intention to chase you away, he was struck by your vulnerability.

“Hey, you can’t be in… here…” he began, but trailed off when he saw your pitiful form. Struggling with unfamiliar emotions, he attempted to offer comfort, a rare gesture for someone of his royal stature. “You… okay?” he asked awkwardly, furrowing his brows.

“I’m o-okay!” you quickly responded, rubbing your eyes and standing up with a sheepish grin. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you with my crying…” Your innocent reaction only made him more determined to be gentle, despite his internal conflict. His pheromones, released unconsciously, elicited a low snarl from you, signaling your hostility. The mingling scents of earthy soil and rain from you in the air only highlighted the moment.

“Sorry…” he said, rubbing his head in apology. You merely nodded and hurried away into the distance. Though he had expected never to see you again, fate had other plans. Now that you were back in his life, he was resolved never to let you go again.

note: so yeah that’s it uh Leo had an interest in you and ran w it and he met u to ur very misfortune. Reader isn’t having a really great time overall 😭 but I hope this explains things! Tried my hand at something more story related

Reblogs are appreciated ❤️

[love-and-war-on-cybertron]

Teach a bot to Kiss: Metroplex

Shout out to my friend TBean for sending me a Hal900 fic that clearly inspired me. I also made a little reference to a First aid x Metroplex fic that I read awhile ago. If anyone knows of it, Please link me ToT

Metroplex loves when you read aloud to him. It could be a lonely experience as a living city, often forgotten by its residents. It had been no surprise when the news of first contact reached Metroplex, and he requested to meet one of these humans. Being brought into a city, only to be told the city is who wanted to meet you had been an eye opener to just how big Cybertronians could be.

Introducing yourself to a nearly empty room had felt odd and Scamper, an extension of Metroplex, had been offered as a way to adjust. The autonomous troops had made the transition easy once you understood they were simultaneously separate and connected to the Titan. The giant of few words surprised his fellow Autobots with how chatty he was with you. Requests from both of you for visits were frequent, leading to your placement as Ambassador to him and the bots that resided within. Now you lived inside him, and reminded yourself not to word it like that cause it sounded wrong on so many levels.

Friendship blossomed into a crush on what was essentially a faceless living city. Sure, other bots told you he could transform and indeed had a face, but it was very unlikely you would ever see it. The Titan typically remaining dormant. How could you explain to other humans how long conversations about history and reading aloud led to such feelings. Perhaps Cybertronians would better understand. Or not. You keep this crush to yourself, content in being an ambassador. Between you and the Titan, Ambassador was just a fancy way to say friend.

The command center-like space was empty save for you and some observation drones. His brain took up the middle of the room, surrounded by different panels and screens. Some for communication, some for... you weren't going to try and guess. It was a place you were commonly found, performing "ambassador duties". Sitting on one of these empty panels and speaking or like today, reading to him. Metroplex would sometimes interrupt, asking you to explain a concept or word that did not translate well.

"My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand. To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss." You pause to take a breath and Metroplex interrupts.

"What is a kiss?" The voice has no origin, but you can feel it around you. that had taken more time than the rest to get used to. Voices from nowhere.

Explaining things very rarely gave you reason to pause, but this time you hold the open book to your mouth, thinking, feeling cheeks warm as you stall.

"A kiss is a form of affection. Pressing lips together. Like a hug of the mouths." Hugging had been something you explained somewhat recently after he witnessed you and another human hug in greeting. The fact these being, so similar in the value of relationships and connections, had such different ways of expressing it. His auto-troop, Scramble, stood in as a body to demonstrate a hug, and was promptly put to use hugging other autobots. The troops often hugged you when bumping into each other around the Titan's internal routes. You were never sure if it was their own actions or his. Not that you minded. They were always careful with you.

Metroplex often asked for demonstrations, so it was no surprise when the voice, almost timidly, asks for a demonstration of a kiss. Six-gun was nearby, seemingly on standby. Waiting for your answer. Calling out to the bot, he steps closer and kneels to your level. Six-Gun had a permanent battle mask, so you think for a moment.

"Well… Something acceptable between friends is a cheek kiss. In some cultures it is even a common greeting." A small peck to the side of his battle mask. Taking a few steps, you kiss the other side. It felt like kissing a friend.

The visor of Six-Gun lights up, "Well hello to you too!" The extension of Metroplex bumps his battle mask into you gently. A mimicry of your own greeting kiss. You give a smile, and a pat to his face before he moves off again. A quick simple lesson.

"You know Metroplex, I don't feel like I gave you a kiss." You comment as you sit back down, grabbing the book. It was a thought that slipped out.

"Please elaborate."

"It didn't feel like I gave you a kiss. It felt like I kissed Six-gun," Tapping your fingers on the book, rereading the line that made him ask. "I'm not sure where I could even give you a kiss unless you transform." You tried to picture how big he would be. First aid had once told you he was able to stand on the glass over the Titans optics. You would be ant sized!

"The main panel beside you." He speaks after a moment of thought.

You glance over and see a panel that differs from the others. It had never stood out to you before, full of the same buttons and lights everywhere, save for the large one in the center.

"it is a direct interface." He explains, sensing your questioning, "Typically used by my Autonomous troops and drones. Sometimes city speakers."

You slip down from your perch and onto the one indicated. Metroplex speaks again, the lights blinking in time with his words, "I am unsure how to better explain it, but similar to how I see and feel your movements inside of me, but with direct touch with the center."

"I see." Stepping carefully around the smaller lights and buttons, you make way to that center light and kneel in front of it. It pulsates steadily. Placing your hand on it causes the light to ripple. A warmth spreads upwards, the hairs on your arm sticking up.

"I feel you." His voice sounds closer, yet there is still no specific source. "Can you feel me?"

A pulse of light, a pulse of sensation up your arm. Barely there, like a spider crawling up. He was reaching back.

"I think so. Yes, yes I can feel you Metroplex." A sense of giddiness takes over you. You had interreacted with him through various proxies, but this was direct. As face to face as you thought you could be. "I feel you Metroplex."

The pulsing quickens. "I feel you."

The smile can't be helped. Neither can the giggling. "Hello friend."

"Hello friend."

You deduce that it is a sort of feedback loop, or connection. You can feel the edges of his mind. The pleasant curiosity he feels getting to observe you a new way, the glimmer of comfort he feels with you near. Would it be stronger if you were Cybertronian?

Could he feel how you felt about him?

"You are distressed." He states, as if reading your mind, "If it distresses you to kiss me, do not feel obligated."

The way Metroplex says it makes you laugh, "I don't feel obligated. I worry cause-" You run your palm across the glass, watching light follow the motion, "- I shouldn't kiss you. Not without telling you some things." He is silent, waiting for you to continue. "I like you MP."

"I enjoy your presence as well."

"More than friends Metro," You knew that Cybertronians had relationships and love in their own way, "I shouldn't kiss you when I feel this way. Not unless you want to."

"I do want to."

"I mean, feel the same way as me."

"I enjoy your presence greatly, y/n."

The light pulses quickly, and you look up at his brain. It's light, not a solid grasp but you feel it through the connection. A great affection, like a blossom. A reflection of your own heart.

"Oh. Oh!" It's followed by more giddiness as you lean closer. The pulsing quickens, like your own heart beat. Lips against the warm glass. Like the cheek kiss you gave Six-shot. A single chaste peck that leaves a slight smudge. You rub it away with your thumb, watching the light ripple from your touch. His own pulse is slower now.

"May I have another?"

Smiling, hands sliding over the glass, your kiss him again. Slower press of your lips. Followed by a burst of joy, your own and his. Tremors make you pull away, thinking your own excitement was the cause.

It was Metroplex.

His frame shaking, nothing violent, but very notable. Comms started going off, asking the Titan what was going on and if he was okay. You feel his embarrassment, replying to each one and sending out the all clear. You can't resist pressing another kiss to the panel.

[croxxbow13]

The Sweet One - Part One

Warnings: language, mentions of violence and mild adult thoughts.

Takes place during Alexandria era. Just some musings as you’re trying to adjust to this new, impossible way of life… and trying to make sense of Daryl’s intoxicating presence.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Honestly, I’m not sure what this is. I just opened my notes app and just started putting words down. Will do a part 2 if theres any interest.

Please be gentle with me, its my first time.

(Part Two)

(Part Three)

-

It’d been three weeks since our group had stumbled into the walls of Alexandria, dirty, dehydrated and half starved.

Everyone had done the best they could to settle in, though it still felt like most of us were still holding our breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Places like this didn’t exist anymore.

At least, not for long.

We all slept in the same house, hell the same room for the first few nights, not wanting to let our guard down. The floor a patchwork of arms and legs and blankets, while the beds lay empty in their vaulted ceiling bedrooms.

After the things we’d experienced on the road, how could we not? Cannibals, rapist, psychopaths that tried to take us down, slaughtering their whole communities in the process without so much as a flicker of remorse.

I remember one night on the road, everyone sitting around the fire, Daryl said that the world really hadn’t changed all that much. People had always been shit. Now they were just more open about it. There was no reason they could see to keep those terrible things inside.

No reason to fear hell when we’re already there.

And now, to look into these strange smiling faces offering promises of food, walls, shelter… hot showers?

I stuck close to Carol for a while, trying to keep a low profile, putting on a nice face, but all the while keeping my ears tuned to the low whispers, the quiet conversations in adjoining rooms, listening, waiting for someone to slip up. To show the other side of the coin, but they never did.

It didn’t take long working in the small confines of the kitchen and pantry to feel like the walls were closing in on me. The daily droning of bored housewives going on about their ridiculous reasons to be at odds with their husbands, or gossiping about this person or that person… cackling together like a bunch of restless hens.

It reminded me too much of the old world. And I’d rather use an ice pick as a q-tip.

But thankfully, after some convincing - and maybe a little bit of begging - Aaron finally agreed to let me help with scavenging. He said that he, Daryl, Glenn and a few of the Alexandrians were going to be checking out a warehouse tomorrow a few towns over. Something about an old cargo depot.

I couldn’t give a shit less, as long as it gets me outside these walls for a little while.

I never thought it would be hard to transition back into some semblance of normalcy… but I feel like we’re all just kind of playing house. The people in this community have just as many dirty secrets as the people out there. The only difference is theirs is hidden behind neatly manicured hedges and eggshell tinted semi-gloss paint.

-

I’m sitting on the steps of Carol’s house when she returns home from another’s day work.

I say Carol’s house, but I guess it’s also mine and also Daryl’s. Though I’m pretty sure his residence here was just a given whereas I actually asked Carol if she minded that I stayed here.

Rick and Michonne have their whole family dynamic thing going on with Carl and Judith, so I would just feel like a fifth wheel.

Abraham and Rosita had room… but after being on the road with them and realizing how obnoxiously loud they are during sex… and don’t even get me started with fucking Eugene. I swear to God, when he starts rambling off at the mouth with his overinflated self importance. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve imagined cutting off that ratty ass mullet and gagging him with it. My luck though that would just add more material to his mental spank bank that he would recall as he’s beatin’ one out watching his compadres going at it.

I hate that I think about these things, and I hate that I have a vivid imagination because I immediately feel the bile rise in my throat, taste the acidic disgust on the back of my tongue.

I must’ve made a face because Carol stops and looks at me before she makes it to the steps.

“Well I’m glad to see you too.” She says, fighting back a sarcastic laugh.

I shake my head, trying to be reassuring while I’m still fighting the churn of my stomach.

“I’m sorry, just been a long day.” I say, giving her a lopsided smile. She puts a steadying hand on my knee as she swings around and takes the space on the step beside me.

She unbuttons her muted green sweater, or should I say her chosen costume of the day, and pushes up the sleeves. Usually she waits until she’s made it into the front door before she goes through her “becoming Carol” ritual that Daryl and I tease her about most nights.

We give her shit, but I gotta give it to her. She’s smart.

Seeing her now, It’s crazy to think of the transformation she’s undergone since I first met her back at the quarry. Back then she was so… small. And quiet. And just scared all the time. And I get it. Being beaten day in and day out by the person who should be your biggest sense of security will do that to you. Hell, the end of the world was probably the best thing that ever happened to her.

Daryl, too. Granted, he doesn’t talk much about his life before. But from witnessing his toxic ass relationship with his brother, I can only imagine that home for him was never really much of a home. And I’ve seen the scars. At least some of them. He didn’t get those from learning to ride a bike.

Dad was probably a drinker with no outlet for his anger. And Merle was probably old enough and big enough to at least get away from him eventually. I don’t know how much younger Daryl is, or was than Merle. But if I had to guess there was probably a solid 10 years that Daryl would’ve had to fend for himself. And Merle said it…

He was always the sweet one, my baby brother…

It’d made me so angry how he had said it so condescendingly. Like it was something to be shameful about. Like it was a weakness that should be hidden away. Because “real” men don’t show emotion.

Fuck him. I’ve literally watched Daryl rip out vocal cords with his bare fucking hands. And his arms… jesus christ, his arms.

Apparently I just sighed because now Carol has turned her attention towards me again. I clear my throat brushing non-existent dirt off the knees of my jeans.

“Want me to start on dinner?” I ask her, hoping the flush I feel creeping up my neck isn’t obvious.

She gives me a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“It’s ok, I ate a little something before I left work. Daryl might be hungry when he gets in though, if you’re wanting to make something. I think we’ve still got stuff for some spaghetti.”

And then as if conjured up from the depths, Daryl turns onto the street from the way of the front gate, the sounds of his boots thudding lightly against the pavement.

Daryl didn’t walk, it was more a saunter if anything. That one hand always gripping the strap of his crossbow that laid across his chest, the other swinging by his side, always a little wider than necessary.

I wonder sometimes if he’s aware of how much space he takes up at any given moment. Though I could never bring myself to ask him, because then he’d want to know what I meant. And I had no intention of letting him know how small he made rooms feel when I’m in one with him.

He’d probably take it the wrong way and go brood in the woods for a few days.

That sweet baby brother.

I’m self admittedly pretty terrible at recognizing when someone’s flirting with me.

But Daryl… Daryl. Fucking. Dixon. Takes the cake with that one.

At times I wonder if he’s actually had any kind of intimate interaction whatsoever. And, oh to have been a fly on the wall…

Doesn’t mean I can’t try though, right?

I mean, it can’t be completely one sided. I’ve caught him stealing glances when he thinks he’s out of my line of sight. I mean, christ, we live in the same house together.

And god so help me, for as long as I live I will never forget the look on his face when I came out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel because he’d come back from a run early. I had my face down, trying to towel dry the rest of my hair and he rounded the corner as I was stepping into the hallway and I basically face planted his chest. It took him about three syllables worth of his sentence, his hands gripping my arms to keep me from stumbling backwards, before he realized that that single layer of cotton that hit just a little too high on my thighs was the only thing saving us from an even more awkward situation.

His eyes went wide as he’d snatched his hands away like he’d been burned. And the color that immediately flushed his cheeks made me want to sink my teeth into the vein that pulsed too quickly in the side of his throat as he dropped his head and retreated out the front door.

Damn… Im starting to sound like one of them.

“Perfect timing! Your ears must’ve been burning!” Carol’s chipper tone pulls me once again from my thoughts, though this time it’s not as welcome. Daryl’s boots scuff against the sidewalk as he comes to a stop in front of us.

“What d’ya mean?” He says, his voice gruff as his gaze bounces between the two of us. I’m still fighting off visuals of lips and teeth and tongues, so I just raise my eyebrows and shake my head, doing my best to avoid meeting his eyes.

“We were talking about dinner, you hungry?” Thanks, Carol.

Daryl shakes his head and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Nah. Not really.”

“Alright, well I’m going to go shower, that way you can get yours whenever you get ready.” Carol stood and turned for the door, giving me a small pat on the shoulder as she crossed the porch and disappeared into the house.

I looked at him then, and thankfully his attention was somewhere down the street.

The sharp orange streaks of light from the setting sun highlighted the beads of sweat on his brow, and judging by the dirt that clung to his arms and clothes, they’d had an eventful day.

Good. He always seemed to be in a better mood those days.

He was chewing on his bottom lip, as he always did when he was working a thought over in his mind. And I figure its as good a time as any to snap him out of it. Before he turns and I’m just staring at him like a fucking weirdo.

“Aaron’s letting me come with you guys tomorrow. Said that it’d be a good time for me to come along and see how you guys work together.”

He nodded slowly before he turned his eyes to me. “Yeah, he told me.” He slid his crossbow over his head and leaned it against the step railings before sitting down on the landing next to me.

And true enough, it now felt half the size as when Carol was sitting there.

“It’ll be good for ya,” he said, pulling at a string that hung loose on his glove. “Get out there an outta here for a while.” As he said it, his eyes scanned the other houses in the neighborhood… still looking for the cracks. For the slip of the stage props.

Maybe we’re not so different.

My eyes follow his gaze. And when I speak, it’s lower… only meant for us.

“You’re still looking for it too.” I say. It’s not a question. He turns his head and looks at me now. The dirt smudge across his cheek brings out the blue in his eyes.

His response is more of a grunt than a word. He wants to know what I’m talking about. Even though he already knows what I’m talking about. He just wants to hear me say it.

“You’re looking for the strings. For the wizard behind the curtain. This place can’t be as perfect as it looks from the outside. There’s something… there’s gotta be.”

He slowly nods and I know that he’s starting to realize the same thing…

Maybe we’re not so different.

The sun has finally dipped below the horizon. I can only tell because that first faintly cool breeze that precedes the darkness is creeping between the houses now. And thanks to it, I’m now aware of the heat I feel radiating off of him. I didn’t realize that my arm was that close to his. Even through his jeans I can feel the warmth of his legs on the steps beside mine.

Why are my fucking ears hot?

And why do I have to fight the urge to lean over and lick the sweat off his neck.

Can you imagine the look on his face?

Stop. Stop.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I need to get up and go inside before I embarrass myself and just have to go knock on the door of the love nest and ask if I can big spoon Eugene.

Fuck that.

And then he bumps his shoulder against mine and suddenly I have no escape plan. I actually don’t plan on going anywhere. I actually would probably have to be pried off this step.

“Come on, we’ve got an early day tomorrow.” He says, and I can feel the words vibrate through my chest. He stands and grabs his crossbow, but he doesn’t sling it across his back like he usually does. He just holds it by his side, stretching out his other hand to offer me help up.

Sweet little baby brother

Naturally I go against my better judgment. Of course I do. I reach up and grab his hand and with little effort, he hauls me up and I’m now even more aware of how effortless he could just pick me up and snap me in half.

Or pin me against a wall.

Stop.

We’re toe to toe, though on different steps, which only adds to the way he’s towering over me. But I can feel his warmth. I can smell the sweet tanginess of his sweat that’s saturated his shirt. The earthy smell of the dirt.

He takes a step back, which part of me is thankful for. As I should be.

I know that if I ever genuinely made a pass at him. And it wasn’t reciprocated, things would probably never be the same between us. I wouldn’t be able to look at him. And he would probably never put himself in a position to be within arms reach of me again. Be it from fear or embarrassment or just the typical, awkward Daryl.

And I don’t want that.

But god damned, I want him.

Tomorrow is going to be a long day.

(Read part 2 here)

[oneirophasia]

I like thinking about how The Murderbot Diaries could be adapted. I enjoy the conceit that much or all of the footage/animation is technically in first-person - but, true to character, Murderbot frequently prefers to hijack drones and other environmental cameras as an emotional distancing mechanism, allowing changes in POV to communicate its emotions without forcing Murderbot to explicitly comment on them. :D Visual media obviously want less narration than literature (sometimes to its detriment), but fortunately Murderbot has the excuse of lacking a Watson or anyone else it's willing to talk to, especially for half the first book, so there's plenty of justification for a minimal level of snarky cyber-noir commentary. The tonal contrast between its internal monologue and everything it actually says is important!

Treating the "camera" as an explicit extension of Murderbot's perspective also slightly simplifies the problem that a lot of the action and dialogue happens in a way that's tricky to convey passively in only two senses. For one, people talk to each other regularly not just vocally, but over the feed. How can that distinction be made clear to the audience without constantly having to say so? Audio is the most obvious choice; maybe the dialogue has processing effects that give it a subtle electronic tint. Earlier scenes could establish the convention by showing augmented humans continuing to talk by closing their mouths and using subvocal jaw movements, accompanied by the processing change, setting up that association to use without the visual cue later. It'd be important that the effect be distinctive without making the dialogue incomprehensible, since music and sound effects would also still be part of the mix. But "the feed" isn't just one feed, either - not everyone uses the same public channel, and sometimes that's plot-relevant. I remember in Rogue Protocol there was a moment where Murderbot has a brief conversation with someone - I think it was Abene? - which starts vocally, then moves to the feed, then to a private channel. The same people are speaking, or else you could use that to imply the change, but it's important to the audience that other people in the group who aren't currently speaking can only hear some of it. How do you communicate that efficiently? "Sounds digital" is one thing, "sounds digital but in two or more distinct and consistent ways" is another level and outside my limited AV knowledge. (If Murderbot is narrating when other people are around we might also need tone for "asides no one heard but the audience", but that isn't anything new at least.)

That's relatively trivial compared to the broader problem that Murderbot, specifically, is constantly talking to and hacking computer systems. That's at least half of its job and plot participation, but it's also a core part of its characterisation as an insubordinate non-human that makes it a compelling protagonist, so "just write it out of the script" would clearly betray the spirit of an adaptation. I don't know if you've thought about how much effort directors went to until someone (possibly on Sherlock) figured out how to just present text messages on-screen in a dynamic and legible way? This is worse. Viewers don't necessarily need as much information as readers get, but I just finished Exit Strategy and was paying attention to what I was actually imagining visually while Murderbot:

Remotely contacts a gunship using false authentication so it won't notify its human crew

Casually disables security devices and erases itself from recordings

Distinguishes systems by which organisation they belong to, how much access it has to them, and whether they have an active human operator

Sorts personal memories to edit into a highlights reel

Briefly redirects a secure call at a critical moment

Fakes a glitch in decorative holography

Exploits the perimeters of security systems that don't directly communicate with each other to evade pursuit

Monitors transit traffic to deduce enemy movement and change plans accordingly

Hijacks all the drones in a large room and blocks attempts to regain control

Reclassifies enemy combatants mid-engagement

Secures a pilot bot in the middle of being destroyed by killware

Creates bait to lure said killware into a subsystem that can be physically disconnected

Good thing I was imagining a broadly POV camera framing anyway, because none of this is happening physically, and Murderbot isn't experiencing it through human-analogous senses. The challenge is to communicate all of that without impeding the story it's meant to support, without the advantage of being able to control pacing through text. The usual trope for creating visual interest in the visually-unexciting activity of "using a computer" is to portray it as happening physically anyway in a metaphorical cyberspace, but I don't think that actually works in this case, because remember: a lot of this happens during climactic action scenes, and blocking fight choreography can be disorienting enough as it is without also constantly flickering into virtual reality just long enough to flip an imaginary switch. It makes more sense to me to represent it as more of an augmented reality overlay, which... the problem there isn't really that that sounds like creating an entire imaginary UI, which isn't different in principle from set design making sure all the buttons are labelled consistently on the spaceship console, the problem is that usually the audience isn't watching through the console. You'd need to treat the HUD elements as normal and use them at least often enough that when they become important the audience will be ready to follow along without exposition, but cluttering the screen can be distracting enough when you're playing an game and is probably even worse in a non-interactive medium.

[junosmindpalace]

Suna isn’t the type of person to go out of his way to impress someone. To quit slacking off during practice when he senses Kita’s watchful gaze, sure, but to invest time grooming himself into other people’s likeness? No way. 

He’s secure in himself for the most part, laid back and nonchalant. It wasn’t as if he didn’t put any work into himself, it was just that he only gave effort in areas he cared about or where it was required of him, and that usually didn’t transcend outside the realms of school and volleyball.

Most of the time (when he isn’t slacking off), Suna is practicing getting down a more efficient spike and doing his best to keep up with his agonizing classes. That was the most he cared about in terms of himself…until you had started to talk up a classmate of yours.

Suna was used to getting attention as an athlete, a lot of times indifferent to it. Atsumu was the one who enjoyed that sort of attention more, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t a blow to his pride when he hears you gush about a guitarist friend of yours. You would seemingly drone on and on about how impressive he was. You swooned, you would say. Guitarists are so cool. Rintaro listened to all your starstricken rants with raised brows and an annoyed look on his face. He couldn’t help but scoff and look away when you once mentioned something about attending one of his gigs. 

You were enthusiastic about Suna’s volleyball games, but never had you talked about his plays with such reverence. What was so great about guitarists? You could get all the excitement from a concert at one of Suna’s games. There was no need for you to attend that guy’s show. The rush in the stands are pretty much the same you’d feel at a concert venue. 

“Athletes are obviously better. What does plucking some strings have on power and scoring points?”

Suna’s mouth curled downward into a small frown as he listened to Atsumu’s attempt at trying to pick him up during practice. Suna didn’t mean for it to start getting discussed, but Atsumu, dumbfounded by Suna’s irritable mood, got curious on what could possibly make his very nonchalant teammate so…chalant. And so he poked and prodded, making exaggerated comments about his ugly face due to the deep frown on his lips and how he could see the steam coming from his ears until Suna caved in. 

“Obviously something.” 

Rintaro, you should see him play! He’s incredible, it almost has me falling for him. You had joked, but alarm bells were going off in his head, a wave of nausea washing over him and wiping out the remainder of his ego and any sort of nonchalance he was able to feign. That was his final straw. 

It was Aran who was the first to find out about Suna’s new hobby when he visited his house one afternoon, staring in surprise at the new addition to his usually unchanging room sitting in the corner.

“When’d you get a guitar, man?”

“Last week.”

“I didn’t know you were interested in playing an instrument.”

Suna's gaze shifted to the ground as he only gave a shrug in response, because he really wasn’t. At least, not out of a passion for it. He liked listening to music, he didn’t mind listening to other people play, but he himself had never been interested in learning. Well, until he learned about your love for guitarists. 

“They’re just so….you know?”

“I don’t.”

You laughed, even though Suna had meant the words with all the sincerity in the world. And he never got a clear explanation, so now he’s taking it upon himself to figure out what makes a couple of chords so impressive. 

He’s ready to bash his head into the guitar only a couple of days in. The metal strings on his acoustic were harsh on his fingers and always slipped from their position on the fretboard. He gets down the chord shapes decently quick, which motivate him to immediately move onto barring and suddenly he’s back to square one. Transitioning between each chord was also a pain, and don’t get him started on reading sheet music. Injuring his fingers during a game set his progress back a week.

He tries focusing on learning to play your favorite music; solos, riffs and the like. But each tutorial requires another tutorial, and it becomes a vicious pattern of Suna going down a rabbit hole trying to learn one thing after another. 

He’s ready to give up on the whole thing and find some way to impress you with volleyball, but the plan to abandon his progress halts after your reaction to him casually bringing up how difficult it was to play. 

“Wow, Rin, you play? I had no idea! That’s awesome! I’m sure you’re incredible!” 

And suddenly Suna’s back to looking up various tutorials, practicing transitioning between different chords and properly starting out with the basics. He even borrows workbooks from the music rooms to practice outside of school. The patience required of him made his head spin, but it was no matter. He was an athlete with an oblivious crush- patience was his middle name.

He’s surprisingly dedicated, not staying too late after school for volleyball practice and instead opting to work out of his books in the afternoon. He’s gotten farther than he ever expected he would- he even picks up on the language naturally. He doesn’t even realize it until he’s ranting to you about some annoying technical details, not even in an attempt to make you fawn over him.

When he turns to look at you, he’s caught off guard by the impressed look on your face.

“Sounds frustrating. I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it soon.” You said slowly, tilting your head to the side. 

Suna admits that despite having a lot to learn and a lot of practice to be doing in order to improve his musicality, he’s actually found this new hobby of his decently fun. He was slowly starting to understand the appeal you talked so much about, the satisfaction of being able to play a set of chords correctly reminiscent of hitting a good spike.

But ultimately, it’s your almost shy smile and tinted cheeks as you look up at him in admiration that, despite the insane amount of frustration, make Suna glad he decided to pick up guitar. 

[archer-kacey]

I think Garten of Banban gets a lot of unnecessary shit.

Yes, the plot is everywhere, Chapters 2-3 are slower than the DMV, and I'm aware that it is a "Poppy Playtime Clone," but I think that broadly generalized reputation does it a disservice.

As the series has progressed, there is one thing I continue to enjoy about it generally. The childlike imagination behind it.

When I say childlike, I don't mean unintelligent. I mean the plot of the story progresses in a way a child might tell it- there's a lot of cool shit happening (monsters fighting, sheriffs capturing bad guys, racing on giant birds, fighting a t-rex cat, etc), but the transitions between each "cool thing" aren't always the most thought out.

Are the awkward transitional points in the story a valid source of criticism? Yes. But at this point, they're central to the way the story is getting told- in simpler terms, we better be used to the quirks by now if we've stuck around for this long.

Also, Garten is starting to improve on a lot of its weak points (voice acting, environments feeling too empty, introducing a damn CAMERA onto the drone, etc), and I feel like Chapter 7 helped showcase this.

And speaking of Chapter 7, the one thing that really stood out to me was this- there were a lot of characters (all Syringeon's experiments) that spoke entirely different languages.

To me, not only does this raise story questions (namely if Syringeon was trying to create a race superior to humans by emulating and improving on human traits, one being differing languages), but it also shows that the developers do care to some extent about what they're putting into their new installments. It would be easy to make Syringeon's creations all speak a nonsense language, or be otherwise monolingual. This specifically helps the town feel more lived in, and not like a bunch of NPC's walking around aimlessly. There are a couple other things too, like the bar serving only lollipops (and the fact that they're all...kind of racist to humans!) that makes this society of weird green creatures stick out in my mind.

Maybe I'm just Mascot-Horror-Pilled but dammit if I don't have opinions

[jeremys-blogs]

As much as I love Murder Drones, there are one or two things that I feel need to be criticised about the show. And for me personally, the biggest issue was that the writing, as tight as it is, has the consequence of losing out on moments that would really benefit both the story and the characters. The story moves at a real pace a lot of the time, with very few opportunities for the characters to just breathe and take a break from everything that's going on. Now, on the one hand, this is good, as I personally dislike shows that just go on an on, so all the respect in the world to MD for wanting to trim anything unnecessary. But again, sometimes you can take a breather here and there.

Luckily, we have a solution to that in the form of the fan-episode, Intermission. If you haven't seen this one yet, I highly recommend it, as it not only provides a nice period for the main trio to not have to deal with the constant threats of Cyn and the Solver storyline, but also serves as a nice bridge between episodes 4 and 5. V especially benefits a lot from this, as her moments with Uzi really help her transition from being antagonistic towards our favourite angsty girl to the self-sacrifice she gave in 5. Without that, her aforementioned change seemed incredibly abrupt, as heartfelt as it was.

Look, I'm not saying Intermission is somehow better than what Liam Vickers was giving us. But, it did provide something the main show itself was lacking, and for V in particular, those moments were something she was in real need of, so kudos to the fans for creating this remarkable in-between episode 😊

[curio-queries]

Haiii.

Found your blog recently and I love reading your production notes :)

I'm going to probably explain this really badly 😝 but here goes.

I was wondering about your thoughts on how they used sound clips that were not from the footage the viewer is seeing in ep. 3? I'm not sure what you would call this type of editing but a moment I found peculiar was when they were trying on the North Face clothes.

We see the 3 of them going through the items/trying different things on, then we see JK trying a jacket, then Jimin with a jacket on turning around.

The audio doesn't match. You hear JK talk about the clothes. Then Jimin asking how he looks to JK. (not to mention how the messed up subtitle saga continues 🙄)

The second time I noticed the same type of editing happen was at the end of the episode at the go-kart place. After JK did his circling of his go-kart in front of Jimin & Taehyung, we see Jimin do that frog thing lol then we have a wide shot including both scenery and them in the corner chatting, then a drone shot, and the audio is of Jimin & JK talking about the day's activities with added music as well.

This second case felt right to me. It gave a bit of reflection and wrapped up the episode. 

But in the first case, I’m a bit confused. What was the creative choice there?

Not having appropriate footage of them (i.e. 1 person was not decent/not covered up) when they were having that conversation trying on the clothes? Then why use the audio at all? There wasn’t consistency in the use of this type of editing choice so it stuck out to me.

Anyways, just looking for some insight from someone with knowledge such as you.

Thank you 🥰

Hello there! I'm so thrilled you sent this in! I love chatting about this stuff and you helped me notice something with this scene as well.

To your point, yes, there are usually a few reasons why editors will play audio from one scene as a voiceover for another.

It's an extremely useful tool for transitions, helping to build a bridge between two scenes.

In traditional TV and movies it's also most frequently used as a bandaid to cover when they want to change the lines an actor says after they've already been filmed.

It also can be purely stylistic. They did this in this episode at the end of the bit where vmin talk to jk on his bike for their mafia/hitman role play. The final dialogue as a voiceover helped continue the fun and fantastical moment.

For the moment you mentioned when they're changing clothes, I suspect it's edited this way purely as a utility for one reason: The guys aren't wearing their mics so there was no audio that matched up with the moment they decided to show. I'd easily wager there was a brand deal with the North Face to have the members wear some of these clothes as product placement. In that case, brands usually will have requirements about how much screentime specifically highlights their product and my even require approval of the final segment. The guys are obviously used to this so they made sure to record some good dialogue when they did have their mics on but the footage we got is more dynamic than them just complimenting straightforward to a camera. That would be my guess as to why this specific moment was edited like this.

Fun fact though: Tae never put his mic back on after getting out of the pool until after they put these clothes on. And JK only donned his while JM was taking that pic that was only the top of Tae's head. I'd wager they flipped the chronology of when Tae took his scooter ride cuz he and JK both have mics on when he gets back and I highly doubt Tae wouldn't have walked right by him if Jimin was still asleep on the ground when he got back.

Anyway, thanks again for the ask. I may be incorrect about why anything was done this specific way in these episodes but it's fun to chat about the possibilities.

For everyone that's new to my blog (and there are a bunch of you suddenly!), may I also point out two of my sideblogs that you may be interested in?

@bts-polls is a daily poll blog for bts, army and such.

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Okay, end of shameless plug!

Edited to add:

Are You Sure?! MasterList

[nannyan]

DSAF 2 Ramble No. 2!!!

And it is once again about Phone guy's speech because aaaavabhj

This time I wanted to ramble a bit about how sound and music are used in this scene to help build it even more! Obviously the tracks aren't game original but I think they're used really well!

(I might be reaching with some stuff but ahh who cares I just really love this scene so I want to talk about every aspect of it loll)

As the sound of screaming guests and Jimbo's unfortunate circumstances subside you are left in total quietness, as Phone Guy tells you to come with him. But when the scene transitions the Freddy's music doesn't start back up, as it usually would. It's just you and Phone Guy in total silence. And even as he starts speaking to Jack, there is still no sound. Gone are his perpetual "uh" and "um"s. It remains that way for the first lines of his monolog. And this sudden absence of any sound catches your attention and sort of sends the subconscious message of" Hey this is something important, pay attention.".

Only as Phone Guy says that you're a predator, does the music come back on. But it's not any of the usual you'd hear. It's a track you probably haven't heard before in the game and the only way I can describe it is: It creates tension. And this tension keeps building and building, with Phone Guy talking about the Christmas presents that will never be opened because of you. Jack, as he's been kind of doing this whole time during this scene, tries to defend himself, trying to lighten up the situation with his little quips.

But in response the music abruptly stops. There's sort of a release of tension but it also feels like the whole game, not just your boss, is telling you to cut the shit. Look at what you've actually done.

As Phone Guy starts telling you about those 10 parents, of those 5 kids you and Dave murdered, how he's had to lie to them, that he doesn't know what's happened to their children. How he's had to attend their funerals, an ominous piece starts playing in the back, emphasizing more just how serious this situation is. You are a murderer and there are people who now have to suffer because of you.

Finally, as you move towards the end of the conversation, a piano + this droning sound are added into the mix. And this is just the cherry on top.

To me this track creates this feeling of a horrifying realization - the type of situation where something feels wrong, and after mauling over it, your brain finally, slowly, starts realizing exactly what is causing that feeling.

That's what Phone Guy is kind of going through. He asks you if you feel any remorse for what you've done. Even the tiniest bit. He already has an answer in his head but despite everything he wants to hope that maybe, just maybe, there is something good in you.

And the track here isn't so much used for a horrifying realization but more so a horrifying confirmation of his suspicions, because no matter what Jack says, you both know the truth. And from here on out it highlights Phone Guy's growing distain and disgust towards you.

You are a monster.

[daydreaming-robot]

My thoughts for the Murder Drones Series Finale

MASSIVE SPOILER ALERT

I'm gonna start this here with being honest about the runtime. It's short, that's all. I was thinking that it would be almost 40 or 30 minutes because it's a series finale. But having it about 20 minutes isn't something new(from my experience)

The reunion with Uzi and Nori was short, but needed, with Uzi having a chat with her mom in the silent scenery of space. And the way to beat the Solver is to permanently separate the solver from it's host by taking out the core and destroying it. Only for N to accidentally hit her with the landing pod.

Nuzi is canon. I'll be honest, I'm not much of a Nuzi shipper, that's all. But seeing the two admit their love to each other and hug each other while descending into the planet while on fire is honestly beautiful. Also I love their logic; save the world first, do all the corny awkward robotic dating later

V IS BAAAAAAAAAACK MOTHERFUCKERS. Throughout the series, I started off disliking V. But as the series progressed I started to appreciate her character development. And I felt heartbroken upon seeing her supposed death on episode 6. So upon seeing V throw hands with J, I SCREAMED my lungs off seeing her again. And I like that she has a pet sentinel now

J admits that she was also tricked by the Solver was surprising, but still worked with it. Why tho. Her loyalty eventually became her downfall after losing to her former teammates

Uzi has her own singularity bomb(that's what I call the [NULL] thing)

If there's one thing I love the series for, it's the horror. I'll explain in a separate post lol

THE FIGHT SCENE OMG THE TEAM AT GLITCH IS COOKING IN THE KITCHEN. The nightcore music as Uzi and Cyn fought is something I laughed at cuz it reminded me of my childhood watching Creepypasta AMVs with nightcore music in the bg. It's not something bad but it gave me a nostalgic punch in face

"Nobody traumatizes these weirdly hot robots but me!" bi Uzi bi Uzi bi Uzi bi Uzi

The defeat of the host Cyn imo is very satisfying. Uzi destroying the outer shell of the core to reveal the singularity is a clean transition. But then a monochromatic singularity formed between the two as Cyn tries to get it back in her body in order to survive. And Uzi's quick thinking was to... eat it. It worked for a bit because Cyn LITERALLY MELTED IN FRONT OF UZI. But it caused her to pass out as her body cannot handle two cores in one body for a brief moment

Uzi now has a yellow and purple ombre eye color after she has fused with the Absolute Solver

I like how Khan had a feeling that's still Nori after she scrambled off, which make sense considered she was pronounced dead up until episode 7

Her saying that she's now a "Damaged OC" is hilarious and personally call out to all artists and writers because we gave our oc traumatic events character development that they're traumatized in the end lmao

I love how the teacher, throughout the entire series gave zero fucks about what's going on around him

I love in the ending scene is a parallel to the pilot episode with her giving off a presentation to her class. The difference being that N and V are now attending the class and her parents being at the door supporting her

I love how N is improving on his artwork, with V being supportive

Uzi flexing her newfound power to scare the shit outta her class mates is a classic parallel to her showing off her railgun in the pilot, never get old Uzi, never get old

The post credit scene, with Uzi glitching out and the Solver talking to her gives off the feeling that Uzi isn't safe yet. Especially with the look on Uzi's face throughout the scene, she looks exhausted, and she looks like she isn't all there at the same time

Anyway that's my thoughts on the Series Finale of Murder Drones. It was a rollercoaster all throughout

[b1asho]

Heya Blasho! Question, Do humans or any of the sophonts in Wreck Hounds have well-developed methods of transport? Terrestrial? Aerial? Aquatic?

Tldr: yeah but the quality of the vehicle depends on where you are!

Vehicles are more or less the same for humans looks-wise, except due to the absence of fossil fuels on the planet everything is either electric (from solar or battery), magnilev, or RUU (<-though RUU-powered stuff is only really the norm in the SEZ everyone else is kinda scared of it now). Magnilev is the stuff that floats (a Rossetian-perfected technology, uses magnets or something), its mostly used for commercial industries and by the super rich for their fancy cars. Another main difference is that vehicles like cars aren't really a thing that most people own, everyone either uses public transit, has a bike (motorized or otherwise) or some kind of scooter (or perhaps even an animal to ride). The only exceptions are for particular jobs where you'd get to be a driver of something bigger (like on a ship, delivery driver, or dredger) or if you're crazy rich/in politics and want your own private vehicle. Transportation in core regions is on par or better than our modern technology (including some forms of self driving) but the availability of modern transport gets shaky the further out you go. In the most rural areas, there may be one tractor per county and everyone else is just using animals/manual stuff. Air travel is only for industry/delivery, the military, or for political/important people (normal people will Never get on a plane, but through some jobs or some unique forms of public transport, you could still manage to get on something that flies/floats) Seeing a helicopter is a really scary bad sign because that thing is 100% from the military. There are no airports, just some landing stripes etc. Space travel is nonexistent and they've barely managed to keep any satellites up there. Boats are literally the exact same, except for the fact that the word 'boat' or 'ship' now includes the low-altitude hovercraft that goes over air rather than water.

In terms of how the other species use vehicles, it's about the same. No one really has their own large individual property vehicles, and instead they use publicly available or smaller stuff. Their public vehicles need special accommodations, though, due to their size and shape differences. A human, kixeli, or human-congruent muttreazik could ride the same bus pretty easily, but a rossetian or drecu wouldn't really be able to sit down (tail+body shape) and a kar wouldn't even be able to fit (plus adding like 800lbs on a vehicle is not ideal). Typical vehicles can also be pretty exclusionary to any muttreazik that dont fit their host's average body layout (being too big or just not being able to use things the same way).

In terms of flight, things get a bit weird because there are Arasit and muttreazik who are sharing airspace with delivery drones, corporate ships, and sometimes even other sophonts using flight tech. There are specifically marked zones and lanes in any city with enough of a flying population that tell them where they have permission to fly/glide in to avoid crashes. This zoning also helps make sure that buildings/distinct structures with landing and takeoff points exist for flyers to use.

Species-separate public transit systems in the DRSS and in the Seru Empire. In the Empire, the different transportation methods help reinforce the separation of species and emphasize the military's strength (civilians walk or use scooters, join the army and you'll be driving a Real Car!!!!) The effect isn't intentional in the DRSS but since Enclaves in big cities are usually the only place with species-specific transportation infrastructure, there is a similar separation/exlusionary effect.

There's more to say but I'll have to put it in a post where I actually draw some of this stuff XD

[davekat-sucks]

If hussie intended John to be Trans, we'd have seen it be made fun of in Act 1. Hussie was not subtle about that shit. He'd have made it known, then made fun of the audience on both sides and their reactions to that information, then had it all blow up in their faces because he was a troll. We'd have had Pesterlogs about it. We'd probably have had the trolls questioning it, then saying its stupid bullshit for wigglers, who would then promptly be culled and used for fucking paint. Because Trolls.

As a general rule I think trolls being trans is a stupid idea as is. Setting aside the functional hermaphroditism, I'm pretty sure most trolls would consider it unfairly barbaric, even for them. Like wouldn't dysphoria be treated as suicidal ideation on Alternia, given that being incapable of breeding is a death sentence? Transition would obviously involve lopping off the bits on both sexes that are used to fill pails with, so telling someone to get their sex changed would be tantamount to telling them "I hope you die" because that's what the filial drones are gonna do once they find out. Lanque only got away with it for so long because he's a slacker when it comes to jade duties and thus would be nowhere near any drones that might try to scan him.

So not only would learning about this kind of thing be an absolute culture shock in this hypothetical, they would seriously start to worry about the humans' mental health that they'd be willing to do something that puts them directly in the crossfire of reproductive regulators. So yeah, definitely Hussie would've made fun of it, but he also would've used the trolls to bully June waaay more than they were already doing for John back when he was GT instead of EB.

Considering we learn that the names given in the input commands were done by the trolls themselves (as shown when Sollux gave Dave the name "Insufferable Prick"), that means it was Karkat himself who tried to give a trans kid the name ZOOSMELL POOPLORD. The troll characters are just exactly that, Internet trolls. Both in personality types and literal species. The trolls do not care about labels, sex, or gender. They just do what they do best, troll and harass others for their own amusement. Since it was Terezi herself that also harassed John to have his handle changed, does that mean Terezi is transphobic? Wow, I can't believe June would fuck her transphobe. Then again, there are women who would fuck a racist. With how human biology and troll biology defer from one another, with highbloods having higher endurance and longer lifespan, they would be questioning humans, who are seen as fragile, at how could they even pull a transition if their medical advancements isn't as high as them. I mean, the trolls were already confused at the incest being taboo for humans since they either don't know that inbred DNA is a thing for humans or they just assume the humans should just EVOLVE like they always have when they were monkeys. Of course, with the troll incestuous slurry on Alternia, one could say every troll is an inbred themselves to one another. The violent nature and craving for sex is the result of it. Mutant traits like Karkat's blood color, Equius' super strength, or Eridan's violet hair streak, is just an extra step of inbred traits gained from it.

[mrporg]

I was re(re-re-re...)-reading Artificial Condition, in particular the section after Tapan gets shot in Tlacey's shuttle.

Credit: The Murderbot Diaries Animatic by @souldagger

The way ART steps in to clean up the mess really reminds me of a DM (Dungeon Master) who has to take over with a NPC (Non-Player Character) to fix a disastrous situation caused by the players. Yes, I am speaking from experience here ^^'

In this scene, Murderbot really f*cked up by miscalculating and endangering Tapan. As a result, she's dying and ART is the only one in any position to help unf*ck the situation. We get a glimpse of how overpowered ART really is, as it fools the station's Port Authority, pretends to be Seth, forges the identity of Tlacey's crew, remote operates the shuttle, wipes its bot pilot's memory and forges all sort of records. All the while preparing its medical facilities and safely retrieving Murderbot and Tapan.

By the time we were on approach to the transit ring, ART had cleared us with the ring’s Port Authority. Shuttles weren’t supposed to be able to dock with transports without advance notice, but ART took care of approach permission, and forged its captain’s feed signature to pay the fine for not giving prior notice of the scheduled trip. They didn’t suspect anything; nobody knew transports could have bots sophisticated enough to fake being human in the feed. I sure hadn’t known it. [...] ART had sent drones to scrub and sterilize away my fluids and Tapan’s blood from the shuttle’s interior. ART had already wiped the bot pilot’s memory and deleted any security data. It was also chatting casually with transit ring launch authority with a forged feed signature from one of the dead humans. (Artificial Condition, Martha Wells)

If this were a tabletop RPG session, Tapan would only get to live because she's important to the plot and the DM needs her for the rest of the story (plot armor). Except, this is a book, not a game session and Tapan is only important to Murderbot who is beating itself up for f*cking up so badly and getting her (nearly) killed.

"I had put my need to get to RaviHyral above the safety of my clients. I was just as shit at being a security consultant as any human." (Artificial Condition, Martha Wells)

And that's what I find beautiful about this scene. ART is not stepping in because the plot needs Tapan or because it personally cares about her, but because it cares about Murderbot and therefore cares about the things and people that Murderbot cares about.

Martha Wells could have gone the usual way of fridging a character for the sake of providing the protagonist with some trauma to deal with and make them interesting. Instead, she cleverly twisted the trope in such a way that it provides excellent characterization for ART and more insight into ART and Murderbot's relationship. Or should I say "mutual administrative assistance"? 😅

By the way, this is as desperate and helpless Murderbot gets in the novels:

I turned away from it and leaned over Tapan. I said, stupidly, “It’s me.” Her eyes were shut and she was breathing through gritted teeth. I clamped my hand over the wound to stop the bleeding and said, ART, help. (Artificial Condition, Martha Wells)

My poor heart </3

[noellevanious]

more sad venting below

i don't really know what to do with myself at this point. lots of stuff in my life is going wrong (and i deserve most of it).

i wish i could say these breakdowns i've been having are just a weird emotional overloads that are gonna go away soon, but i feel like my mental state has gotten worse in every way, some worse than it was before 2022 when i transitioned.

i've got a lot of friends, and i appreciate the followers that do reach out to me to try and cheer me up, but i dunno. i spend pretty much every day at this point just sitting in my chair at my desk feeling sad, not wanting to do anything. i did that before, but at least i had the urge to play videogames, or try and do something. at this point i just pray somebody messages me and refresh tumblr, wondering when i'll break down again and trying to fight it back.

i want friends to reach out to me and offer to hang out or be a shoulder to cry on, but the people that do aren't the ones that i "want" to reach out to me (which is unfair to them), and the ones i do want to reach out don't and haven't for years, if they ever did in the first place.

i'm a social butterfly, but i'm also an awkward lonely transfem that isn't even out publicly, in a city where i have basically no friends. i want to visit friends more, but i don't have the money and my job can't really let me do that, so i'm just spinning my wheels. i get jealous when i see or hear friends talk about their social experiences, but i don't do anything to solve the issue, and just stew in my own pathetic self-loathing.

i've been a shitty girlfriend, i've gone back to completely despising my body and self image even though i'm going to the gym almost every day, aside from my job i don't even really know what the future holds for me. i have almost no money even though i work full time, we might get evicted from the house we live in, i live with family members that essentially suck me dry like leeches in every sense, and i can't even really get "sad" or "Angry" normally.

i promise i'm not spiraling again, it's not fair that i do it so much, but all the worst parts of me are coming out and i don't have anything redeemable right now, the only thing i know to do is post about it and hope somebody hears the cry for help.

if you unfollow me for all this sad posting i don't blame you. i can only do so many cries for help without it just turning into a droning whine nobody wants to hear from a perpetually sad loser.

[merge-conflict]

wip wednesday

tagged by @slayerdurge <3 and tagging @totentnz and @sweetmage and @wanderingaldecaldo <3 <3 <3

I'm working on many things, and only a few of them are cyberpunk although I am swapping back into that gear. But what the hell why not share you a little bit from all the stuff I've been working on:

the art of drone maintenance : au where valentine was a 2020's arasaka employee who was soulkilled, and this is I guess just robo/drone porn for people who are into the alien from aliens? don't judge me.

They’re hardly evenly matched– he may have earned his position as Saburo’s personal bodyguard, but Valentine is over two meters tall, with an extra pair of arms and a body that does not tire. Fully equipped, he might through some stroke of luck incapacitate her quickly with a well-timed explosive, but far more likely she could kill him with drones before he could get into range. Still, the one on one matches keep them both honed, and if he must lose to anyone on the regular, he prefers it to be to someone who is a graceful winner. Most of the time. And if sometimes she chooses to tease him mercilessly, well– He has always had a warrior’s appreciation for Valentine’s frame, which is not only deadly but also beautiful– a masterwork without equal the world over. Often has he marveled with envy at her control and ability to transition from unnaturally liquid predator to unmoving statue and back, the utter economy of movement that demonstrates exactly why she is such a fiendish opponent to face on the field of battle.

the damn things overlap : no blurb to share for this chapter. I'm emotionally making peace with cutting the funny slapstick scene (and everything I've written so far) because that approach was not working for me and I need to find another one.

and now for the non-cyberpunk wip

sacrament : untranscribed (sorry I'm lazy) bg3 piece where Astarion comes back from drinking pork to find Fugue elbows deep in Alfira's corpse

wine : from the datv porn au where valentine is supposed to be seducing illario to secretly interrogate him with blood magic and ends up giving him nightmares

A low, uneasy buzzing grows around Illario as he sheathes his knife and holds the head in both hands, cupping the face and smearing blood over the cheeks. In the moonlight it almost looks black. Words build up in the back of his throat, coating his fuzzy tongue, but the air seems to have been sucked from his lungs. At his feet lies what remains of his cousin, bosom-brother, Dellamorte-the-greater, with his sword arm disarticulated and lying gently at his side. Illario kneels on the hard cobblestone, slick and slippery with sin, and cradles the head in his lap. Lucanis’ expression is the same distant concentration he always on every job, resentful of any distractions, contemptuous of any joy. His mouth is closed now, lips pressed into a thin line like Caterina. Perhaps they have nothing more to say to each other.

appreciation (gently, gently) : the main datv storyline i've been daydreaming, this a portion where elgar'nan is tempting valentine with visions of what could be

“Careful,” Valentino warned, snapping his own teeth together. He leaned in to murmur in Lucanis’ ear. “Or I’ll tie you to that trellis and leave you there when I’m done. You’d make such a pretty flower, Spite.” In response the demon let out a low noise somewhere between a growl and a purr, fluffing his wings around them to make a tight cocoon. We are Crows, he insisted.

aaaand (untitled) : also in that nebulous datv storyline where Valentine meets Zevran because of course he should.

“You cannot just do exactly as I do, Rook.” “Why not?” Valentino asked, curiously, following his gentle pull back towards the table. “You are too tall, for one,” Zevran answered, then laughed as Valentine picked him up easily and sat him down on top of the table. He was a little shorter than Lucanis, though not by much, with the same strong, lean build. He must have been Viago’s age but did not move as stiffly. Spent more time on his feet than behind a desk. “Why do they call you Rook?” “For the chess piece,” Valentino answered, letting Zevran pull him a little closer. His muscles had gone warm and liquid, and his body seemed to be inclined to move of its own accord. “Ah, I see.” Zevran’s voice went a little soft. “A valuable piece, no? Who gave you that name?” “Whose chess piece am I?” Valentino mirrored his tone. “And if you don’t like the answer?”