#he's the uncanny valley if it was a person

[crooked-wasteland]

I had to rewatch SC video to understand why he quit HB, because all I got was HB season 2 was bad and people are mean? it sounded like he couldn’t admit he was wrong when dire, cartoonishi and other YT spotted the flaws in the first episodes, plus not to be mean but his channel depended on HB and the fans to keep it growing that he stuck with it for as long. Most importantly it sounded like he had an epiphany that S2 was terrible. The circus was a disaster premier episode that the professional writers while still fans recognized the flaws and foreshadowed it getting worse they struck around and were fans. They didn’t make HB to be meanspirited they genuinely loved the show and the show runner wasn’t till they were vague tweeted by viv and harassed by fans did they drop the show. They weren’t safe and viv can’t take criticism.

SC literally saying how he's "Not like those other people" is just another way of saying "I'm one of the good ones". Which is his feeble attempt to try and couch his criticism so the fans don't turn on him, while simultaneously holding up boogiemen in DireGentleman and Cartoonishi. As if to say he isn't like them because their criticisms are invalid because he waited until episode 5 to suddenly see the issues with the show.

The fact that, instead of fessing up to the full extent of his spinelessness, he still tries to set himself apart from other critics who were former fans; I feel that negates any acquiescence he made to the fact that he was basically pulling his content out of his ass. He still isn't being authentic in his approach to the series because he knows it would destroy him.

My most personal criticism of Medrano is that she doesn't deserve her success. I feel the same, if not moreso, about Sarcastic Chorus. The best thing to happen to him is losing his channel income and going out into the real world and actually developing an identity outside of a brand.

I have plenty of criticism towards Medrano, it is her fault the shows are badly written and her fandom is a literal cult. However, I don't hate Medrano. I have stated she is narcissistic, ignorant, abusive, and incompetent. I have accused her of being a compulsive liar and even untalented. I stand by all of those assessments, but even then I don't hate Medrano.

I genuinely despise Sarcastic Chorus. I can only describe the revulsion towards him as the sensation one gets staring into the Uncanny Valley. He's so devoid of identity, of humanity, he may as well be an AI.

[katoobee]

my headcanon heights for the bad sanses :D

[nightsandreala]

Btw here’s another tweet from the thread I was talking about yesterday, it was just kind of interesting imo

[seasicksilver]

no cool

[bogkeep]

watched berserk (97) on a whim after reading someone's tags on a writing advice post on how to justify Big Fucking Swords in stories. have started reading the manga. there's a lot of triggering visuals to me so i imagine this is what it's like to be lactose intolerant and decide to eat so so so much ice cream

[eclipsecrowned]

watching the bestie have away with words to express what i also feel but stumble over trying to say re: rep in an adaption.

[randybutternubber]

Gino 🙏

[gyorklady]

Robbie shaved.

I am conflicted.

[flowermist7432]

No judgement I mean really I just wanna bitch about it, but Im always bummed when I see a neat Discord RP premise but they advertise (or dont, sometimes) that they ONLY allow realistic face claims. Real faces only!

and like, maybe I get it if yah dont want people designing characters so simple that you cant imagine them in the same room as another character; but drawing my oc like Lonnie or what have you will never, and I mean NEVER truly be replicated in the face of some generic hot person on instagram. Neither AI.

[shortfeather]

The thing about hermnautica is I may stop posting about it but it never leaves my brain. And this time because it’s 4 am I’m thinking about kharaa. Did you know it canonically physically mutates your body? We only ever see it as the green pustules but it fucks with your organs and tangles with your literal dna. Can you imagine if it wakes up latent genes. You’re going to die. How do you measure it? By the day you wake up paranoid (too late) and the day green spots appear on your skin (too late) and the day some of those green spots aren’t just the things that showed up on your insane friend, but sightless eyes (so far beyond too late it’s not worth thinking about.) Or instead: the day your head starts itching and your hair falls out to make room for a massive crown of quickly-sprouting antlers. Or instead: the days of agony where your ribs change shape, to something more like a fish’s.

[lecliss]

I kinda feel like Seph's FMV model from the original game was more intimidating than his 7R model is. Like in the original he had these huge inhuman bright eyes that stared directed into your soul but the remake model is just like. Some guy that actually walks around dressed Like That. I can't take him seriously. He's just A Guy. That's A Person.

[deathfavor]

Anonymous said: "Chrollo, what is your opinion on the uncanny valley? Does it freak you out even in the littlest bit? does it disturb you, disgust you, or make you uncomfortable"

" My opinion? I think it's an interesting phenomenon. " Chrollo answers simply, a small smile curving onto his lips. " It's quite fascinating. Why does it exist? Is it an evolutionary sense? If so, then is it something exclusive to homo sapiens or is it something that would have been along the entirety of the Homo genus? There was four different lineages alive at the same point after all. Or perhaps to see illnesses in their own? " He tilts his head to the side, pondering it. " Or is it something more psychological than that? Is it a displeasure of seeing something that is like a reflection of the self but in a way that isn't what we perceive as correct? Should our inner selves be given form, I doubt most people would like what they saw. "

Chrollo ponders the question with the same enthusiasm and interest he might display towards an ancient tomb or priceless artifact that has been acquired. Few others were ones to enjoy such deep, if ultimately pointless, questions.

" As for myself, it does not bother me. Not even the slightest bit as you put it. I find it more intriguing than anything else. Perhaps guarded - after all, I do have the benefit of being aware and highly skilled in using Nen compared to most. This does, of course, also depend if we mean uncanny valley purely by robotics, or of other things like extremely lifelike wax figures or props. Either way, it doesn't bother me. I find it more fascinating to see how other people react to it if I am honest.

[vampiremourning]

.

[hollow-keys]

Annoying when you can tell an artist is incredibly technically skilled and has talent far beyond you but their art is bad anyway.

[katakaluptastrophy]

The thing about having read our way through two previous books full of necromancers and weird eldritch shenanigans is that the absolute horror of what happens to John as a person doesn't quite register.

John's own glib, matter of fact narration tells the story as an apotheosis. He was doing great. He'd have fixed everything if only people had listened.

But reading between the lines in the John chapters, you glimpse something rather different.

John basically spends the first half of the Jod chapters sitting in the dark with his creepy yellow eyes, not eating or sleeping, literally stroking his favourite corpses and coming out with chill and fun statements about how he can feel their skin when he's away from them and he's 'waking up'. Cool, cool.

Passing swiftly over the cow dome, Presidential Puppet Pals, and the suitcase nuke, day to day life in the cow dome must have been fun... You're all on the Interpol watchlist, the Vatican is asking a lot of questions, the police are outside and John - who hasn't slept in a week and doesn't eat anymore and is probably wearing some kind of weird novelty tshirt - comes wandering past while you're eating breakfast, followed by a dozen silent, dead-eyed corpses like some kind of mother hen. He makes a cow joke, and then zones out because he got distracted by listening to the bacteria in your gut.

And then some guys die accidentally and it turns out he can eat death energy. So now he's got creepy Twilight eyes, an entourage of corpses, a cape, some very dodgy eyeliner, and he's barely breaking a sweat as he instantly kills over 100 people, says it was an accident, and then, dead serious, tells his followers to drag dead UN peacekeepers inside to add to his 'skeleton army'.

By the end, he's not slept or eaten in weeks, is tweaking his own bodily processes on the fly, is puppeting the dead US president and possibly an army of over a hundred corpses, monitoring G- in Melbourne, carrying on at least two conference calls, and helping to build barricades out of chairs.

And I just keep thinking how weird it must have been for his friends. How sometimes he would have seemed like the man they'd known and loved for so long, and sometimes he would seem different. Did they ever find themselves mourning the man he was? Did they ever stand there as he tuned into something they couldn't fathom, staring at them with those yellow eyes, and feel some awful, uncanny valley terror? Did he ever feel like he was losing himself? At what point did the cow jokes stop feeling like oh, classic John and start to be a reminder that his desire for vengeance and the scope of his powers were outstripping his remaining...perspective?...restraint?...humanity?

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Homesickness.

Pairing: Yandere!Silver x Reader (TWST).

Word Count: 1.6k.

Commissioned by the very lovely @felix-the-lemon-king.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships, Physical Intimidation, Arranged Marriages, and Manipulation.

“You’re going to miss the ball, beloved.”

You flinched into yourself as you heard his voice, accompanied by the sound of clipped heels against stone floors and the slight reverberation of both disruptions against barren walls. A foolish, naïve part of you had convinced the rest that a royal guard – no, a general would have too much pride to be found absent from his own betrothal celebrations, let alone be seen in a servant’s hall, but you should’ve known better. There were many in Briar Valley who let their pride distort their vision, countless who allowed their rank and titles to overshadow even their most basic sense of rationality. Silver was, tragically, not among them.

And Silver was, tragically, the only resident of the valley you were engaged to.

You didn’t rush to respond. Patiently, you counted the seconds until he was standing at the base of the stairwell you’d took refuge in – not unlike the way you used to hide in spare bedrooms and vacant parlors as a child, whenever your parents were entertaining guests who had too many questions about your pointed ears and the scales on the backs of your hands. And, tangentially, you couldn’t say the bolt of dread that would always strike your chest when you heard you parents calling you out of that day’s chosen hiding place was totally dissimilar to the fear that knotted in the back of your throat as Silver stepped into your line of sight, coming to stand in the doorway at the stairwell’s base. He was still dressed in his regalia, his clothing evenly divided between the pitch-black armor of the royal guards and the formal attire that would be expected, given the occasion. His sword was sheathed at his waist – a sight that, weeks ago, might’ve made you somewhat wary, but that you’d since grown desensitized to. No part of you found comfort in the fact that he seemed to be constantly within arm’s reach of a weapon, but it was hard to be scared of something he never seemed to draw.

It took him a moment to find you in the darkness, his eyes more limited by it than your own, but he seemed to soften as his gaze finally landed on you. “You’ll miss the ball,” he repeated, his tone concerned rather than irritated. Another small blessing – for a knight, your betrothed seemed remarkably slow to anger. “Is something wrong? I know Malleus took charge of the arrangements, but if something doesn’t suit your preferences, I can—”

“It’s beautiful,” you assured, because it was. Because it had been. Because for any little girl from the Briar Valley or any other fae land had been in your place, this all would’ve been nothing short of a dream come true, but you weren’t a little girl, and you weren’t from Briar Valley, and you found very few things beautiful about the idea of getting married at all, let alone to a man you had only recently met. “It’s only…” You curled your hands around the fabric of your own attire. “I’m afraid I’m just… not very good at parties, I guess. I’m sorry.”

You half-expected Silver to frown, to urge you back to the banquet hall he’d come from, but he only sighed, shaking his head in a sympathetic sort of way before taking to the stairs and seating himself beside you, leaving a measured gap between your body and his. “You don’t have to apologize. I know you’re not used to being here, just yet.” He paused, flashed a small smile in your direction. Even at the best of times, you struggled to read his expression – not because he was overly cold, but because he always seemed to radiate that same uncanny, only a touch above off-putting warmth. At least a portion of it had to be insincere. Fae or human, there wasn’t a person alive who could be so consistently affable. “It took me months to adjust, the first time I left the valley. Everything was so alien – if I hadn’t been travelling with my father, I wouldn’t have lasted more than a day.”

It was difficult, but you did your best to smile, to laugh. Although your pairing had seemed strange at first, it did make a twisted kind of sense – a fae born without magic, raised by the human nobility of a country with only negligible ties to Briar Valley, arranged to marry a human with magical prowess in spades, raised in service of a fae king, for the mutual benefit of their homelands. You wouldn’t have been surprised to find out it was a part of some elaborate joke, the type it was rumored your kin were so fond of. It was only unfortunate that you had to be the target of their humor.

“The dark bothers me more than anything,” you admitted, before you could think better of it. “Where I come from, it’s almost always sunny. Having to live someplace without light and with so little warmth—” And so many cruel faces, and so many gnashing teeth, “—I suppose I’m at a bit of a loss.”

“It’s not always like this.” It was the most eagerly you’d ever seen him speak. “You’ve come during a poor season for it, but the view from the castle’s highest tower on a clear day is one of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, and the valley’s coasts get much more sun. I’ve heard they tend to hold their festivals around this time of year, too.” He seemed to pause, to consider, then went on, “After the wedding, I’d be my pleasure to take you to one.”

At that, you let yourself relax. He was aloof, sure, but he was kind, too. You could be thankful for that, if nothing else. “I was planning to return home as soon as possible, but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to stay a little longer.”

“Of course.” If you hadn’t known better, you would’ve thought you heard him moving closer to you. “Malleus suggested we continue to stay in the castle while you settle, but… it would be nice, if we had our own home.”

Your delicate smile wavered. “Silver, I know we haven’t talked about this but—”

“Unless you’d like to stay here, I mean. But, I’d still like to show you the cabin where—”

“Silver,” you tried, again, letting out an exasperated laugh. “I meant that I’m not going to stay in the valley at all after the wedding. I understand why I’ve been asked to marry you, and it’s not that I haven’t enjoyed my time here, but—” Another laugh, a pleading glance in his direction. “I don’t belong here, as you wouldn’t belong anywhere but Briar Valley. You know that, don’t you?”

Now, it was Silver’s turn to go quiet. When you found the nerve to look toward him, you found him staring blankly ahead, his lips ever so slightly quirked downward. Huh.

So that was what he looked like, after he’d gone cold.

You didn’t see him draw his sword. His hand was on his hilt, grip tight enough to bleed the color from his knuckles, and then, your back was pressed against the harsh slant of the staircase, the flat of his blade pressed to the base of your throat and Silver above you. You didn’t scream. You didn’t move. You might’ve forgotten to breathe, too, if you hadn’t been shocked enough to let out a single, airy gasp – just loud enough to be audible.

“After the wedding,” he started, speaking slowly, carefully, as if he was afraid you might not understand. “I think you should remain in the valley, with me. I’ll build us a house – a cabin not far from the castle – and you’ll be safe and warm for as long as I can take care of you. Would you like that?”

You opened your mouth, but suddenly couldn’t remember how to move your tongue. Silver angled his wrist, the slant of his blade pressing into tender flesh. “Would you like that, beloved?”

“I---” You forced yourself to swallow, to shut your eyes. “I want to go home, Silver.”

This time, you felt something razor-sharp and frigid bite into the skin just below your jawline, drawing the thinnest possible trail of blood. “And you will.” Then, after a measured pause, “And that home will be with me.”

He wasn’t cruel enough to make you say it aloud. All it took was a quick nod, a pathetically fractured whimper, and he was drawing back, returning his sword to its sheath as he pushed himself to his feet. There was no mention of swords or cabins or the blood now dripping down your neck – only long, weighted look, the implications of which you didn’t wish to examine. “Stay here.” Almost reflexively, you moved to stand, but all it took was a tilt of his head and a flash of his blade to have you falling back into place, paralyzed. “I’ll tell Malleus that you won’t be returning. When I’m finished, we’ll return to our chambers together.”

You hadn’t formerly been sharing chambers, but pointing that out felt redundant, if not entirely useless.

You watched as he started to turn away, only to hesitate and return to you. With a deliberate kind of slowness, he lowered himself onto one knee in front of you, taking your limp hand in his. “Of all the people I could’ve been betrothed to, I’ve found myself increasingly glad that I’m betrothed to you.”

His smile was warmer than it ever had been, and yet, you’d never felt so cold.

“And, eventually, I know you’ll feel the same.”