#i just think its fascinating. the way people are structured and the way people move....

[forecast0ctopus]

How did you get so good at anatomy yours is genuinely so so good

thank you, i really appreciate that !! even though i simplify a lot of shapes and make things a bit cartoony i am a big fan of anatomy and physiology.. i just think its neat……

things that have helped me get the hang of it:

learning the relationship between the skeletal system, the muscular system, and how they interact to make you move

going out anywhere and sketching people from life – they dont have to be any good, just the action of doing some quick sketches helps you get a feel for the shapes. i have so so so many awful sketches but thats just part of it lmao

getting really invested in media and making a shit ton of fanart helps because it gives you a ridiculous amount of practice sdksj

once you kind of get a feel for it you can mess around with it. im definitely not the authority on anatomy and i put shape/flow over accuracy a lot of times, but just. same as every skill, an absurd amount of practice will always make for improvement

[noodlesarecheese]

So Watcher is launching a Dropout (it's not called Dropout but they're clearly using the same template format platform thing idk what it's called, and the same pricing structure), and the reaction so far has been wildly different than what I remember from Dropout's launch. I was curious about why that was or if I was just misremembering the Dropout launch, so I went back to the Dropout launch video to compare them and I think I can see where some of the difference is coming from.

If you want to make the comparison yourself: Watcher's Video, Dropout's Video.

I wanna clarify first though that this isn't a knock against Watcher or the fans who are reacting one way or another or anything like that, I genuinely am just fascinated with how different the reactions are to what seems to be the same business decision. This also isn't a 'wow watcher sucks and dropout is so much better' I'm just using them for comparison because they did the same thing with different results. ALSO this isn't about the business decision itself, just the presentation! Disclaimers out of the way, here's the analysis.

Title and Thumbnail So the Watcher.tv announcement video is titled "Goodbye Youtube" and the thumbnail is Ryan, Shane, and Steven sitting on a couch looking serious, with a dark background. That really makes it seem like they're quitting (which, ok, they are quitting youtube but not quitting quitting). Viewers are already primed to be upset, and it's easier to go from upset to angry than upset to excited, curious, or neutral.

Compare to the dropout announcement video: "How the Internet is Ruining Comedy" - inline with other collegehumor video titles, might make you curious. Thumbnail - Big News! with Sam smiling and a bright background. We know its big news, but he looks happy, and the exclamation point let's us know they want us to be excited. Viewers are primed to be curious and excited.

Tone The Watcher announcement has 2 main tones. The first half is very sentimental, almost sad or wistful at times, and while there are parts that veer into pride at achievements, it's mostly bittersweet and sentimental. The second half is a bit more uplifting, but still quite serious. It reminded me of a tech announcement, like when they introduce the new iphone or something like that. Very professional, sleek, and serious, which isn't automatically a bad thing! But I do think that's not the vibe a decently-sized chunk of the audience expected or wanted. Many people watch Watcher for the cast's dynamic with each other, humor, and the more relaxed/conversational/friendly feel that most of the series have.

Compare to dropout - excited and comedic tone. Still professional, but also fits the expectations of the viewers. People watch collegehumor for the humor (it was in the name, after all). They also poke a bit of fun at themselves, which lightens the mood, shows self-awareness, and alleviates some of the bad feelings about paywalling.

Focus The Watcher announcement focuses a lot on the creative journey of the cast and company, as well as how this move will benefit them. Which isn't a bad thing, that's actually quite interesting! The problem here, I think, is actually more about what isn't here - a solid explanation of how this will also benefit the viewers and why the viewers should be excited. There's a brief description of one new show, and the promise that existing shows will get an upgrade, but we weren't given many specific details about how they'll be improved, and there's only one new show to tempt us into subscribing. Some people will be excited for that, some people won't, and some people will be excited but not enough to subscribe. Having 2 or 3 series (even if it's 1 fleshed out plus a few teasers of what's in production or what is being planned) plus some more details about how existing shows will be improved would've helped. Without that, it really does seem like it'll just be the same stuff viewers were getting for free, but now paywalled, rather than new and exciting stuff. That makes a big difference. I think with the fans not getting as much focus, this also led to some (accidental, I hope) hurt feelings. Based on what I've seen from fan reactions, all the talk about hitting the peak of what they can do on youtube and wanting more, translated for many people to 'youtube isn't enough' which became 'you (the current viewers) aren't enough.' Which I don't think was their intent! But I also don't think fans are wrong for feeling hurt by that.

Compare to dropout: They clearly explain how the move will benefit fans, and reassure viewers that existing content will stay where it is, and only new content will be behind the paywall. (Watcher clarified this too, but in a comment. It's not in the video itself, which is a huge problem.) They include clips of several new (at the time) series that would be premiering on dropout, including things that specifically could not be made on youtube (due to weed, violence, and sexual humor), so the reason for the shift is clear to the audience.

Advertisers Both videos contain the sentiment that being monetarily successful on youtube means working to appease the advertisers, and that over time what the advertisers want and what the creators want drifts further and further apart, putting strain on the creators.

However, I think the message gets lost a bit in the Watcher vid. Instead, it leaves viewers with the idea that the main problem is just ads are annoying instead of advertisers putting constraints on content. I'm not even sure what the specific constraints are for watcher, because they didn't give any examples. And the focus on ads being annoying leaves viewers frustrated because people typically either don't mind ads or they already have an ad blocker.

Timing and Size Okay, this isn't exactly about presentation, but it is still a factor that impacts perception so I'm tackling it. And I'm actually going to do dropout first. CollegeHumor launched dropout in September 2018. Pre-pandemic, but also pre-Sam Reich as CEO. The company was still owned by IAC. It was a Company, and while it wasn't huge it wasn't tiny either. So launching dropout was a Company Decision, a Business Strategy. Some people were upset about, but it wasn't a personal betrayal (generally, anyways). If I remember correctly, this was also not a high point for the company. They kinda needed dropout to do well to keep things running smoothly (which is why they shut it down and sold it to Sam just 1 1/2ish years later), so the sudden shift made sense.

Watcher Entertainment is a company, but it doesn't feel like one. Ryan, Shane, and Steven own and operate things, but they're also the faces, and they're youtubers. Which makes every business decision they make feel more personal to viewers, especially those who have been watching for a long time. They've also seemingly been doing well on youtube, which makes it more difficult for viewers to understand why the sudden change is happening now. They do talk a bit about it, about the company expanding and wanting to do things that advertisers don't like (which I've already covered). However, mostly the choice to start a streaming platform is framed as 'the next big step' without much clarification on why it's the next big step. Plus, it's post-pandemic, and a lot of people are still struggling financially with the ripple effects of that. Yes, $6 isn't a wild amount of money, but there have been some months where $5 absolutely meant the difference between paying all my bills or not, and I know I'm not the only one. This, coupled with a lack of clarity about why exactly they're doing this, leads to fans feeling hurt, betrayed, bitter, and frustrated.

Now, presentation and framing isn't everything. No matter how perfect your announcement is, some people are still going to be upset. It's a big change, of course people will be upset! But I do think a more careful presentation would've alleviated some of the hurt and anger that fans are feeling. While I do think a lot of the reaction we're seeing is due to the decision, I think (based on what I've seen) that some of it is also based on the poor communication in the video itself, and that could've been avoided!

So I'm gonna get a little speculative and describe what I would've done. In this hypothetical, they've decided to launch the streaming service and brought me on just for the announcement.

Firstly, switch the title out. If they're married to Goodbye Youtube then add a (and hello...?) after so it's at least obvious they aren't fully quitting. The dark color scheme of the thumbnail fits their regular vibe, but they want everyone to be excited so they should look excited. Next, let's lighten the tone up. Being proud of what they've done so far is great, but we don't need the sentimental music and bittersweetness. Remember, the goal is to get viewers excited about what come's next - so let's focus on what actually comes next! Talk about specific show plans and mention why they wouldn't work on youtube. Then, take some time to reassure the fans. Predict a few likely worries and address them in the video. Acknowledge that it's a big change, that it will take time to get used to, and that not everyone will be onboard, and let the fans know that it's ok if they aren't onboard.

Like I said, this wouldn't fix everything. There are a few differences in between dropout and watcher that don't have anything to do with presentation. Dropout launched with primarily new shows rather than new seasons of existing shows, and they continued uploading to youtube relatively regularly in addition to the content behind the paywall, which I do think went a long way to keeping fans happy. At this point it's unclear if watcher will do either of those or not. But, while I don't think it would fix everything, I do think improved communication in the announcement would've helped.

[mellowdisko]

Vulpes Inculta headcanons 👀👀

oh gladly! i've been waiting for this moment.

vulpes is young—far younger than most would expect. like in his early twenties. his age leads people to often mistake him for just another low-ranking legionary, dismissing him outright until he reveals his rank as summus frumentarius. but rather than seeing this as a hindrance, he uses it to his advantage in espionage: disguising himself as a farmboy from arizona or a green NCR recruit.

as I said in this post, i do believe vulpes to be a religious man. he was raised by priestesses, within the cult of mars and knows no other way of life. his faith is absolute, a fanaticism that drives him to follow its teachings without question, gladly committing atrocities in the name of his gods. yet, he does not make a spectacle of his faith when it comes to personal practices. he prays in silence, visits temples alone. and he prays a lot, especially in battle or before undertaking a dangerous task.

he also prays for his own men—asking that they return from their missions both victorious and alive. maybe he cares for them; maybe there is a small part left in him that aches when he sends them into the bear's land, a part that keeps him up at night, a part that makes him smile when they radio in for report. maybe they’re the older brothers he never had growing up, maybe he does want them to survive, maybe there is some love in that. or maybe he just hates losing any reliable tools of the legion, simply hates being wasteful with his resources. no one really knows.

as said in the post he is superstitious too, especially when it comes to "omens" he sees in nature. like he'll rather walk all the way across the mojave than to go through a shortcut a vulture flew over. lucius constantly mocks him for this (also like I mentioned in the linked post my hc for lucius is that he's too old to have grown up into the legion's religion. he was raised with science rather than cultish teachings, making him far more rational than the younger legionaries.) vulpes acts indifferent about lucius’s skepticism, but deep down, it unsettles him. like a lot.

he dislikes working in the strip or any other urbanised areas like that. he's more of a “child of the desert”, the city doesn't suit him.

he probably doesn't enjoy enclosed spaces overall, doesn't feel too comfortable with a roof over his head. unlike most other frumentarii assigned to new vegas, he has no fascination with luxury or comfort. he'd prefer to sleep on the desert floor rather than wake up to a greasy casino ceiling. he hates the neon lights and the tall buildings. hates the noise, the crowd, the "degeneracy". he doesn’t belong to vegas. he loves the wasteland, that untamed emptiness waiting to be conquered; he loves wandering, trekking through it—taking the fox act a little too seriously.

but that does not mean he disregards the old world as a whole, no, I think he'd find it interesting, alluring even—collecting every small piece of it he's allowed to have in legion land. novels, cassettes, maps...nothing radical enough to be seduced by a world outside the legion but faded fragments of a forgotten era just loved enough to be cherished and be tucked away into a corner of his tent.

vulpes has a natural aptitude for languages. he is probably fluent in multiple tribal dialects and has used that talent for the legion's benefit since we know the frumentarii do act as ambassadors. caesar secretly hates this part about him because it reminds him of a particular someone with blue eyes who too was also good with languages.

definitely hates chess with a burning passion. he thinks it is redundant and naive because warfare is not two neat lines of soldiers marching toward each other on an even playing field. the structure of turns, limited moves and pieces frustrates him. he thinks you have to be unfair in war, deceive, be unpredictable, and strike when the enemy least expects it, win by cheating basically. he's also terrible at it which is definitely not a reason for this dislike.

[bird-in-the-space]

Bayverse Version (Part 2)

(Author's note: Since some of you asked. Here's part 2. I couldn't find any good gifs.)

You wake up from unconsciousness and find yourself in some kind of government base called the NEST. There, you meet Que, an Autobot scientist, and discover that you have become a robot with no way to turn back into a human. Everything is a mess, and you are left to ponder your uncertain future.

Warnings: bad description of science stuff, you end up with a severe panic attack, hysteria, dumping on things and falling, your body functions not working properly, being cold, mentions of becoming a lab rat, and some comfort.

------------------------------------

You felt like you were numbly floating in a sea of darkness, enveloped by cold. Darkness was all you could see and hear. But then, you heard voices—distant and muffled. Suddenly, a warmth ignited within your chest. It felt as though you were being pulled from the darkness toward the surface, and then… you woke up.

A silent gasp left you as your eyes snapped open. The first thing you saw was an unfamiliar ceiling. Staring at it for a moment, you tried to grasp your bearings. You winced when you heard noises around you, then moved your head to see your surroundings. You were in some kind of a large room. It looked like a hangar, filled with military people and people in white coats. 

Silent panic began to settle in you as you knew you were not dreaming. Where were you? What was this place? 

“As you can see over here…” a voice said from the other side. 

You turned your head around and froze when you saw what seemed to be one of those robots. He was tall, and he honestly looked like a robot version of Albert Einstein. You then noticed an image on a large computer screen that showed a robotic body. 

“The endoskeleton structure around her upper torso is 15% similar to that of a human, and after I took a sample, I found traces of human DNA. I find it incredibly fascinating because cyberforming does not usually leave anything left of the body’s previous organic state,” the robot Einstein explained to the people around him, who took notes or looked at the screen with great fascination. 

You looked at him in stunned silence before realizing something. 

Wait, was he talking about you? 

When you tried to move your body, you noticed that you were strapped to a metallic bed of sorts. You also finally noticed that something was very different in your body. Your entire body… was now completely made out of metal. You were a robot. 

The shock hits you when you remember the attack and what followed after. 

Oh god… 

“Ah! I see she’s awake,” the Einstein robot exclaimed, looking at you. You looked back at him as the people also looked at you. 

“(Name), right?” the robot asked. 

“What the… fuck!” you uttered out loud, your voice having an odd metallic echo. 

“I know this might seem frightening, “ the robo-Einstein started. “But rest assured, you are in no danger. Please do excuse the restrains; the people here just wanted to ensure their safety while we inspect you and ensure there are no traces of Decepticon coding in your brain modules,” he explained. 

You looked at him with a confused frown. 

Decepticon coding? 

Your… brain modules? 

“What?!” you exclaimed. 

“Due to the Decepticons having the previous possession of the Allspark, they changed its coding so that any newborn transformer it brings to life will immediately think and fight like a Decepticon. But as I can see, your optics are blue, and you are speaking English. It seems your human consciousness is fully intact, allowing you complete control of your mind and body. Wonderful news despite your case and your body being completely mechanic now,” he explained, which explained nothing to you, and raised a question. 

“Everything?” you asked. 

“Yes. You no longer possess any organs or anything that relates to human functions. Minus your unique endoskeleton, you are completely cybertronian,” he answered. 

You began to feel numb as you became aware of everything that was missing from your body. You could not feel the flow of air into your lungs—because they were no longer there. A strange pulsing emanated from your chest, but it did not resemble the familiar beating of your heart. Your limbs and joints felt heavy—far heavier than you would have liked.

It felt wrong. 

Everything felt wrong. 

“Get me out…” you uttered, pulling against the restraints. 

“Hold on. We’ll make a few more tests, and then we can take the restraints off you,” the robo Einstein tried to assure you, but it only had the opposite effect. 

“Get me out! Now!” You yelled, pulling hard enough for one of the restraints to snap open, freeing one of your arms. 

It allowed you to sit up and pull the restraint from your other arm. You then took off the restraints on your legs. 

The people around you began yelling, calling on their radios as they backed away from you. 

After getting your legs free, you stood up from the metal bed, only to get hit with heavy disorientation and wobbly legs. It was like standing with noodle legs. 

“Oh! Well, I guess you’re standing then,” the robo Einstein commented. 

“Someone calm her down!” someone yelled as you struggled to stand, stumbling on your feet as your head spun around to grasp the control of your body. Everything is suddenly smaller, way too small. 

Your metallic legs dumped on some equipment, causing them to be pushed off their intended places or break. 

The military people and the scientists unhelpfully yelled, making the noises louder and causing your headache to become worse. 

You tried to avoid stepping on the people while trying to gain your balance, but it was difficult when they scurried around you like small rats, and your legs felt like heavy blocks of cement. 

The dizziness became hard enough to handle that you fell against the wall. You scrouched against it for a moment, regaining your bearings. But when you tried to straighten your back, you bumped your head against a walking platform above you. The people tripped from their feet from the hit. 

“Fuck!” you cursed, the pain in your head getting worse. 

Someone entered the hangar. “Wow! Wow! Wow! What’s going on, Que?! “ Lennox questioned when he entered the room with Emily. 

You then tripped your giant metallic feet on something, causing you to fall to the floor. You leaned up, releasing heavy breaths, which only added more panic. You were aware you no longer had lungs, yet your mind was frantically looking for them, to find anything familiar in your body. Tears began to streak down from your eyes as your mind was in complete hysteria. 

“Well… the good news is that her human consciousness seems completely intact, so I believe there is no danger of the Decepticon coding taking over,” the robo Einstein, Que, started. “But… “ he then looked over to you. 

You pushed your back against the wall, frantically heaving your chest and tears running out your eyes. 

“I guess her human mind is struggling to process the new body she’s in, especially after I told her she no longer has any familiar human bodily functions. I wasn’t aware it would cause such a strong panic reaction,” he continued. 

“Her EM field is completely off the limits,” he remarked. 

“So… I believe she’s having a mental breakdown,” he finished. 

“We need to get her to calm down before something gets damaged,” Lennox stated. 

“Perhaps a familiar face will be helpful to calm her down from the hysteria,” Que suggested. “Putting her into shutdown might only cause more unpleasant outcomes,” he added. 

Emily looked at you and ran to you. 

“Emily, wait!” Lennox said. 

Emily ignored it and stood in front of you. 

“Hey, hey, hey, (Name). It’s okay!” she stood in front of you. 

You looked at her, still shaking. 

“Em?!” you said. 

“Yeah! It’s me! I’m here,” she replied.

You managed to regain some control of your head to speak. “Emily! Where the fuck are we? What the fuck happened to me?!” you exclaimed, looking at your metallic hands. 

“It’s a bit difficult to explain,” Emily replied. “But right now, I need you to calm down, take deep breaths,” she said. 

“How? I don’t have lungs anymore?!” you questioned, your chest feeling tighter. 

“Just… do it anyway and follow my example,” she said. 

“Come on, breathe in,” she breathed in. 

You followed her example and breathed in.

 “And out,” she exhaled. 

You exhaled in pursuit. 

“Good, let’s do it again,” Emily encouraged, and you followed her example as she inhaled and exhaled. 

“Good. Good,” she said. 

You breathed in and out. Focusing on her helped you slowly calm down. Even though you were still aware of the missing lungs in your body, breathing and imagining having them helped your mind become clearer and less like a panicked rabbit hole. 

“Good. That’s my girl,” Emily said softly as you exhaled, becoming calm. You dried the tears from your eyes, which was the only familiar thing that brought you little comfort. However, your head was still aching badly. 

Boneshilling cold then suddenly struck you. Your teeth clatter, and your entire body feels like one big icicle, causing you to shiver violently. 

“What’s wrong?” Emily asked when she saw you start shivering. 

“It’s so… fucking cold all of the sudden,” you clattered through your teeth. You even pulled your knees closer to you. 

“That might be one of the side effects of cyberforming. Your whole body is completely metallic, thus, you might feel a great drop in temperature as your mind begins to adjust to the body,” the Que explained. “I guess it would be a typical side effect when a being from a different species becomes a transformer,” he added. 

“I have no idea what the fuck that means,” you said clattering your teeth. 

Your eyes then notice a man slowly approaching you. It was your dad. 

“Dad?” you questioned, shivering. 

He looked at you, shocked when he heard your voice. 

“(Name)? It’s actually you?” he asked. 

“Well… after I took a sample from her exoskeleton, the results showed small traces left of her DNA, which were enough to match with her identity. That is indeed your human offspring, (Name) (Lastname),” Que answered, showing an image on a computer that seemed to be your profile. 

“What… how did this even happen?” your father questioned. 

“I believe that after the Allspark fragment activated, it fused her mind and body with her friend’s vehicle, allowing her to return as a transformer. I'm not entirely sure,” Que explained. “This makes it a fascinating phenomenon, as nothing like this has ever been recorded in our history regarding the Allspark,” he added. 

“Yeah, Mister Que, I don’t think that’s helpful right now. “ Emily turned toward him. 

“How about we first let her adjust and tell her what’s going on?” she suggested. “I mean (Name) doesn’t even know about the NEST or Autobots yet,” she added. 

You frowned. 

“Autobots?” you questioned. 

You then looked at your father and Lennox. “What are Autobots?” you asked. 

When they didn’t answer, you asked another question. “What is this place?” 

Your father and Lennox glanced at each other. “Well… I guess it’s better to tell you everything now that you are a transformer too,” Lennox stated. 

The robot Albert Einstein, or Que, got you one of those large metallic space covers that worked as a warming blanket to fight off your shivering joints. Then he, your dad, Lennox, and Emily filled you in on everything. Apparently, you were in a government base called NEST, a group of people who worked with an alien race called the Autobots to fight against a faction of their kind called the Decepticons, who started an ancient war on their planet. The Decepticons were the robots that attacked you and tried to get the fragment of the thing called the Allspark in your necklace, and that fragment was the reason you turned into a giant robot. 

You nearly couldn’t believe what you were hearing. But since now you were this cybertronian thing, there was nothing you could use to deny it. Even though you really wished this was just a bad dream. 

“So, let me get this straight…” You started after they finished. “Some years ago, there was this magic space rocks you guys fought over in New York. Then it shattered in the progress, becoming fragments, one of those fragments ending up in Emily’s father’s hand who unknowingly turned them into our necklaces, caused these Decepticons to attack us, and is also the reason why I fused with Emily’s car?” you questioned.

“Correct, or that is the theory, at least,” Que nodded. “Which is why this is a unique case. The Allspark has the power to bring life to all metallic beings. In theory, when the fragment awakened, it should have only brought your friend’s car to life, but somehow it brought you back, fusing your body with the car and giving you a spark with your human mind intact,” he explained. 

“Is there a way… you know? Undo this?” you asked. “Turn me back into a human?” 

“Well… that’s the issue. Que said it’s not possible,” Emily said. 

“What?” You glanced at her. 

“Emily is correct. The Allspark is designed to give life. It doesn’t have the power to undo it. Also, technically, your now body is fused with whatever remained of your human body. Even if there was a way to undo it, I’m afraid there would be nothing left of your former body except bones. You are, in a human sense, dead,” Que clarified. 

“So, I’m stuck like this forever?” you asked. 

“Yes,” he nodded. 

“Great! Absolutely great!” you threw your hands around with a sarcastic tone. 

“But— our existence as a cybertronian is not all that bad, save for the Decepticons, who might try to kill you here and then. You will find many useful perks, and you can now do things most humans can’t,” Que tried to sound positive. 

“And what if I don’t want any of that?” You asked, your tone laced with silent bitterness. “What if I want to be human again and go home?” you asked. 

“I’m afraid that is currently not possible,” Lennox said. 

“Wonderful. So, now what? Am I going to be a lab rat now to see how this works?” you asked. 

“Prime and the other Earth executives are already discussing your situation. Now that you have awoken and shown no signs of being afflicted by the Decepticon coding, thus pose no threat to us. I believe you will be placed under our care.” Que explained.

“This Optimus? He’s the leader of your Autobot gang?” you asked. 

“Correct. Do you want to meet him and the others?” Que asked, nearly sounding positive. 

“You know what? No.” you shook your head. “This is already too much, and I need to process the reality that I’m forever stuck like this,” you stated. 

“Can we do that later?” 

“Sure. That’s reasonable enough. It might be good for you to have time for yourself to process this and get used to this new body,” Que said. 

“I’ll report to the others about your condition. If you don’t mind, our medic, Ratchet, would like to examine your wounds. You took quite a hit after attacking that Decepticon,” Que said. “There’s no need to worry—he’s a capable medic. He’s already patched up your external wounds, but I think it would be wise to check for any internal damage.”

“Okay,” you uttered.

“Excellent. I’ll send him in soon,” Que said as he left the room. 

Lennox and your father exchanged looks. “This is a difficult situation. I have no doubt the higher-ups will want to investigate this further and conduct research on (Name),” he said.

“To hell with that! That’s my kid. I won’t let them turn her into some kind of lab rat,” your father snapped.

“Then we should start working on convincing them to let the bots take her into their custody,” Lennox suggested.

“Good idea. I’d feel a lot more comfortable with them looking after her than these people,” your father agreed before turning to you.

“It’s going to be alright,” he reassured you.

“Dad… what about Mom? Does she even know what’s happened?” you asked.

“I…” He fell silent. “She’s been calling, telling you haven’t come home yet. I’ll tell her once we figure this out.”

“Okay…” you murmured as he left the hangar.

Once he was gone, you let out a sigh and rubbed your head. Great. You were now a robot. There was an entire alien robot race, and on top of that, you might become a test subject for these people.

This was too much. Way too much.

“Hey…” Emily caught your attention. “I know this is scary. Believe me, I freaked out too when I found out our government has been working with aliens to fight other aliens,” she said.

“They took my fragment away for safety reasons,” she added.

“Good for you. I guess you got your wish about meeting robot aliens. Too bad I had to become your car in the middle of it,” you said.

“I don’t care about the car or the fact that you’ve technically become one with it,” she replied firmly.

“Em, look at me. I’m stuck like this. I just found out there’s an alien war happening, and now I’m technically one of them. How the hell am I supposed to deal with this?” you asked.

“The Autobots are good, at least. I had the chance to meet them while you were still out cold.“ Emily said. “They’re nice, especially Optimus. I think he feels bad about what happened because you were an innocent civilian that got pulled into this, and I think he would not allow you to become a lab rat either.” 

“So— I think you’re in good hands here,” she added. 

You glanced at her, and she seemed certain. 

“If you say so,” you murmured.

“Still… I don’t know. If I would have rather stayed dead than become this,” you said, looking at your robotic hands. 

“Well, I’m glad you came back,” Emily said, wrapping her hand around your finger. “I’d rather see you come back alive than not at all.”

“And if you hadn’t, Lennox and I would’ve probably died too,” she added.

“Even after becoming a robot, you still jumped in to protect me. Remember?”

“Oh…” you murmured as the memory of that robot trying to kill them resurfaced.

“And… you kicked that con’s ass. And bought enough time for the Autobots to show up and finish the job,” she said. 

“It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure this one out,” she said. 

“Thanks Em… I love you,” you murmured. 

“I love you too, buddy,” she smiled. 

Despite the absurdity of the situation—and the lingering hope that this was just a bad dream—having Emily with you made it a little easier to bear.

Then, that ache in your head returns. Your gaze shifted toward the entrance as you felt those strange presences again. Something deep inside told you they were the Autobots, the robots. The thought made your anxiety spike. You were not eager to meet them soon, yet you knew you would have to eventually. You hoped Emily was right about them being nice. 

You then remembered that odd dream and the voices you heard when everything became dark. You could not remember it clearly, but you did remember those voices, especially that one who told you to wake up. 

Who was that voice?

[vanilladollette]

Hii! Could you make a fic where fem!reader is a new doctor that came to work in the same hospital where Yeo-jeong works and he slowly starts to fall for her? Maybe she somehow found out about arrangement between Dong-eun and Yeo-jeong and she wants to help them and maybe three of them enter poly relationship later (if you're okay with that, if not, then just Yeo-jeong and reader).

Revenge Is Sweet But Love Is Sweeter

Pairing: Moon Dong-eun x female reader, Joo Yeo-Jeong x reader, Poly Dong-eun x reader x Yeo-Jeong

Summary: A dedicated neurosurgeon, drawn to the intricacies of the human brain, finds herself entangled in a complex and quiet relationship with a brilliant plastic surgeon, Yeo-jeong, and his mysterious partner, Dong-eun.

Word Count: 2.5k

Author's note: I was thinking about writing a Poly Dong-eun x reader x Yeo-Jeong. You came at the right time XD Also, I'm not very familiar with Medical stuff. I just googled things so don't came at me pls 😭🙏🏻

As a child, I had a clear sense of direction about what I wanted to be when I grew up. The idea of becoming a doctor captivated me from an early age, not just because of the opportunity to help others, but because of my fascination with the intricacies of the human body. I became especially drawn to neurosurgery, a field that seemed to combine precision, science, and problem-solving in a way that was both challenging and profoundly rewarding. The idea of being able to make a difference by performing delicate surgeries on the brain or spinal cord fascinated me endlessly.

I remember vividly the first time I saw a documentary about neurosurgery, watching in awe as skilled surgeons navigated complex brain structures with such care and expertise. The more I learned, the more I was fascinated by the brain's complexity and the way even the smallest mistake could have such significant consequences. This mixture of high stakes, incredible responsibility, and the possibility of saving or improving someone’s life made neurosurgery feel like the perfect path for me.

I spent hours reading about the brain, watching medical shows, and talking to doctors, always seeking more information. The idea of understanding how the brain works, diagnosing conditions, and performing surgeries to treat them became my dream. It was clear to me that this was more than just a childhood aspiration—it was a passion that ignited a deep curiosity about the world of medicine and the human body. I knew that one day, I wanted to be in the operating room, making life-changing decisions, and helping people through some of the most difficult moments of their lives.

When I began medical school, the reality of becoming a neurosurgeon hit me. The long hours, the exhausting rotations, the never-ending studying—each moment felt like a test of my endurance. But every time I walked into the operating room, the adrenaline would hit, and I would remember why I was there. Even after countless nights of little sleep, I never lost sight of my goal. It wasn’t just about performing surgery; it was about saving lives, offering patients a second chance, and showing them the potential of their own recovery.

My journey wasn’t without its challenges. There were moments of self-doubt, especially when I saw my colleagues excel or when I stumbled through a procedure, unsure of my next move. The pressure of the profession is immense. Every decision you make could determine the course of someone’s life, and the weight of that responsibility is unlike anything you experience in other fields. Yet, as time passed, I began to gain more confidence, not just in my abilities, but in my calling. I started to trust my instincts and approach problems with a level of calm that was necessary in surgery. It was a quiet confidence, earned through countless hours of practice, observation, and mentorship.

Eventually, I reached the point where I was no longer just observing surgeries—I was performing them myself. The first time I was handed a scalpel during a procedure, my hands shook. It was the culmination of years of training, but at that moment, it felt like all of my hard work had finally come to fruition. I was responsible for someone’s life, and the weight of that was immense. But as the surgery progressed and I felt the rhythm of the operation, I knew this was where I was meant to be.

I soon started working at Seoul Joo General Hospital. It was there that I met Dr. Yeo-jeong.

At first, he was a name I had only heard in passing—a brilliant plastic surgeon with a reputation for being both meticulous and compassionate. What intrigued me most about him, however, wasn’t just his skill—it was the quiet depth in his eyes. Beneath his easy smile and warm demeanor.

We first crossed paths when I was assisting on a case that required both neurosurgical and reconstructive expertise. Watching him work up close, I was struck by his precision—each movement purposeful, his mind always three steps ahead. He had a way of speaking to patients that instantly put them at ease, as if he truly saw them, not just their injuries.

Our conversations started off clinical, strictly professional. But as time passed, I found myself drawn to him in ways I hadn’t expected. There was a gentleness in him, a kindness that felt rare in a field where detachment often became a survival mechanism.

Though Yeo-Jeong wasn't the only person I began to notice. I started to notice Yeo-Jeong sneaking off to speak with a woman with light skin, dark brown eyes with double eyelids and sleek, straight bobbed black hair, that she usually wears loose, she has a thin figure and is of average height.

It wasn't that Yeo-Jeong was talking to a woman, it was that he seemed to be doing something suspicious with her.

The first time I truly took notice of the woman, it was late in the evening. Most of the hospital had settled into its usual nighttime rhythm—dimmed lights, hushed voices, and the ever-present hum of monitors. I had been reviewing post-op scans when I saw Yeo-jeong slipping out of the staff lounge, his posture subtly tense in a way that felt out of character for someone so effortlessly composed.

He met the woman near the end of the hallway, in the shadows between the vending machines and an emergency exit. Their conversation was quiet, but the intensity in their body language was undeniable. She had a stillness about her, a careful control that felt measured, as if every movement was calculated. Yeo-jeong, on the other hand, carried a weight in his eyes—one I recognized only because I had seen it before in patients who bore wounds too deep for sutures to mend.

Something about their exchange unsettled me.

At first, I told myself it wasn’t my business. Everyone had their secrets, even doctors who seemed to have it all together. But then, the next day, I saw them again. And the day after that. Each time, their voices were hushed, their gazes heavy with meaning. The curiosity gnawed at me.

One evening, after finishing a particularly grueling surgery, I found myself walking toward the hospital’s rooftop for some air. I hadn’t expected to see anyone there, let alone Yeo-jeong and the woman standing at the edge, their conversation just low enough that I couldn’t make out the words. But I saw the way she placed a hand on his arm, the way his jaw clenched before he finally nodded.

It was then that I knew—this wasn’t just a friendship. This was something far more complicated.

I wasn’t reckless. I knew better than to pry into things that weren’t my business. But the next time I worked alongside Yeo-jeong in the operating room, I couldn’t stop myself from stealing glances at him between incisions, watching the way his hands moved with precision even when his mind seemed distant.

When we finally finished and were scrubbing out, I broke the silence.

"You've been distracted lately." My tone was casual, but the weight behind my words was anything but.

Yeo-jeong paused mid-motion, his fingers still slick with soap. For a moment, I thought he might deflect, offer a charming smile and change the subject. Instead, he sighed, his expression shifting into something more guarded.

"It’s complicated," he finally admitted.

"I’m a neurosurgeon," I replied, rinsing my hands. "Complicated is what I do."

He let out a quiet laugh, but there was no real humor in it. He dried his hands, then turned to face me fully. "It’s not something I can explain in a few words. But she—Dong-eun—is someone I owe a lot to. And I made a promise to help her."

There was a heaviness in his voice, a history I wasn’t yet privy to. But I had seen enough to know that this wasn’t a simple matter of old friends reconnecting. There was something deeper—something painful.

"If you trust me," I said carefully, "I want to help. Not just with whatever this is, but with you."

He studied me for a long moment, as if trying to decide whether letting me in was a mistake. Then, finally, he nodded.

"Alright," he murmured. "But if you step into this, there's no turning back."

The words hung between us like a thin wire stretched too tight, trembling under the weight of something unspoken.

I didn’t flinch. I didn’t waver. I met Yeo-jeong’s gaze with steady resolve, even as a quiet storm brewed in his eyes.

“I’m not the type to turn back,” I said simply, drying my hands on a towel before tossing it aside.

For a moment, he only studied me, his expression unreadable. Then, with a quiet exhale, he nodded, a silent acknowledgment that I had just crossed an invisible threshold.

I didn't press him for details right away. Trust, especially in a place like this, was a delicate thing—built slowly, piece by piece. And though I had caught glimpses of something shadowed beneath his usual warmth, I knew better than to demand answers before he was ready to give them.

Instead, I did what I did best: I observed.

I watched the way his fingers tensed when his phone buzzed in the middle of rounds. The way his smile, so effortless around patients, sometimes faltered when he thought no one was looking. The way he always excused himself at the same time every night, vanishing for long stretches, only to return with a quiet, unsettled air about him.

I didn’t need to be a neurosurgeon to recognize the signs of a man carrying a burden too heavy for one person to bear.

And so, I waited.

It wasn’t until nearly a week later—late at night, long after most of the hospital had emptied—that he finally spoke.

We had just finished assisting on an emergency case, our scrubs still damp with sweat, adrenaline still lingering in our veins. Sitting side by side on a bench in the on-call room, he rolled his shoulders back, exhaling slowly before turning to me.

"You really want to help?" His voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it. A final chance to walk away.

I didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Something in him shifted then. A slow unraveling of whatever had been keeping him silent.

And so, he told me.

Not all of it—not yet. But enough.

Enough to understand that the woman I had seen him with, Dong-eun, wasn’t just some acquaintance. She was someone he had sworn to protect, someone whose pain ran deeper than any wound a scalpel could mend.

Enough to realize that this wasn’t just about him. That whatever battle he was fighting, it wasn’t over.

And that if I wanted to be a part of it, I needed to be sure.

After that night, things changed.

Yeo-jeong didn’t shut me out anymore. He didn’t keep his distance. If anything, he seemed to seek me out more often—whether it was a quiet nod in the hallway, a brush of his arm against mine during surgery, or the way his gaze lingered just a second too long when he thought I wasn’t looking.

And then there were the nights.

The stolen conversations in the dimly lit stairwells. The moments of quiet honesty between shifts, where he would let his guard slip just enough for me to see the exhaustion beneath.

It wasn’t just attraction—not in the fleeting, surface-level way I had once assumed. It was something deeper, something built on trust and understanding.

And maybe that’s what scared me the most.

Because the closer I got, the more I found myself drawn into the gravity of him—of them.

Dong-eun remained a mystery, always just out of reach. But I saw the way she looked at Yeo-jeong when she thought no one was watching. The way he softened around her, in a way I had never seen him do with anyone else.

There was love there.

A complicated, tangled kind of love.

And yet, when Yeo-jeong looked at me, I couldn’t ignore the way my chest tightened, the way my own feelings had begun to shift into something I wasn’t ready to name.

It was past midnight when it happened.

A brutal, hours-long surgery had left us drained, our bodies heavy with exhaustion as we stumbled out of the OR.

We should have gone home.

Instead, we found ourselves in the empty rooftop garden, the city stretched out in glowing lights beneath us.

Yeo-jeong leaned against the railing, rubbing a hand over his face before exhaling sharply.

“She wants to meet you.”

I blinked. “Dong-eun?”

He nodded. “She doesn’t trust easily. But she knows I do.”

Something in my chest tightened.

This was more than just an introduction. It was an invitation—into something neither of us fully understood yet.

"Okay," I said.

His lips twitched, almost like he was surprised I hadn’t hesitated. "You don’t even know what you’re agreeing to."

I stepped closer. "I know enough."

For the first time that night, he smiled. A real smile—soft, almost disbelieving.

"You’re something else," he murmured.

And then, before I could second-guess it, I reached out, my fingers brushing against his wrist. A test. A question.

He didn’t pull away.

Instead, he turned his hand over, palm up, letting my fingers slip against his.

A choice.

A beginning.

Meeting Dong-eun was like stepping into another world.

She was everything I had imagined—sharp, observant, carrying an aura of quiet intensity that made it clear she had spent years learning how to survive in a world that had never been kind to her.

She didn’t trust me. Not yet.

But she trusted Yeo-jeong.

And for now, that was enough.

The three of us fell into something unspoken, something fragile yet unbreakable.

Late nights in the hospital turned into stolen hours outside of it. Quiet conversations over coffee. Moments where lines blurred between friendship and something deeper.

I could feel it in the way Yeo-jeong's hand would linger on mine just a second too long. The way Dong-eun’s gaze would soften when she saw the way I looked at him.

We never spoke about it—not directly.

But I could feel it, thrumming beneath the surface.

A choice waiting to be made.

A step waiting to be taken.

It wasn’t a grand declaration. It wasn’t some dramatic, life-altering moment.

It was quiet. Subtle.

A late night at Yeo-jeong’s apartment, exhaustion heavy in our limbs, the space between us shrinking until there was no space left at all.

Dong-eun sat across from me, studying me with those sharp, knowing eyes before finally exhaling.

“You really want this?”

She wasn’t just asking about him.

She was asking about us.

I met her gaze, unflinching. “Yes.”

Yeo-jeong let out a quiet breath, his fingers brushing against mine where they rested on the table. Dong-eun looked at him, then back at me.

And for the first time since I had met her, she smiled.

It was small. Almost imperceptible.

But it was there.

A beginning.

And this time, there really was no turning back.

[golvio]

I think the metanarrative reason for the Princess being put into an antagonistic role in the “intended story structure” instead of being the protagonist is a big hint to her true nature.

While the protagonist gets to have the POV and make the major decisions that determine the story’s resolution, the antagonist is the one who actually makes things happen. Even when she’s not an antagonist and you’re working together, she’s still making things happen solely by being the only visible character present. Her mere presence changes things.

It’s very, very difficult to have a story without some external force or another character acting upon your protagonist and pressuring them to make a move. Even stories told primarily in flashbacks have the main character interacting with something, even if only in the past tense. A story where the main character just sat there, never interacting with anyone or anything, never having any experiences to learn from, would be incredibly boring. Simply having someone else there to talk to and play off of is enough to get things to move again.

Contrast this with The Narrator’s ideal story, which is a Wholesome™️ story where the main character does what they’re told and then never has anything bad happen to them ever because, as the only character left in the story, they’re safe from conflict, change, or heartbreak. Sure, it might not be a controversial story that would upset someone, but it’s also incredibly dull and unfulfilling. The credits roll and that’s it? That’s all we get?

It’s absolutely hilarious to me that, while The Narrator inserted his echo into the Construct under the conceit of being the literary device that’s the vehicle delivering the story to the reader, he really sucks at storytelling. He can’t build rapport with his audience (us) because he doesn’t understand what we want or how to persuade us beyond vague moral arguments with no emotional hooks whatsoever. He’s so inflexible and refuses to allow alternate interpretations that he can’t handle when things go off script, and can’t get the story back on track when we start going off the rails short of pulling a deus ex machina (which only works when the audience still has enough faith in him to take him seriously as storyteller instead of doing their own thing). Things only get interesting when the Princess gets involved. Things only move forward when she forces the issue, particularly in the Nightmare route, where you refuse to commit to a choice out of fear of potential consequences.

A friend of mine who recently did their first playthrough commented on how the underlying quest to collect perspectives for the Shifting Mound was basically an improv session. I think they’re right on the money. Each chapter is like a game of “Yes, And” between you and the Princess that continues until neither of you can think of anything else. The developers mentioned in an interview that Shifty M. only arrives to take the vessel home when the story “ends.” That is, when there’s nothing left to do. Improv is one of the genres of performance that best encapsulates Change in its demand for adapting to circumstances and new information, so of course The Narrator would be against it, preferring simple, linear narratives.

People tend to become fascinated with antagonists because they’re the ones who make things happen. Adding an antagonist who’s also a person is one of the easiest ways to start building a story. By making the Shifting Mound and her fragments our enemy and requiring us to get within talking distance in order to slay her, The Narrator shot himself in the foot by making Her the most compelling and interesting character by default.

[positivelyholland]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write something with Sebastian Stan x Daughter!Reader where Sebastian brings her to work with him

Magic of Movies

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x teen!daughter!reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: i suck at summaries but its just exactly what the request says lol

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bright Los Angeles sun is already high in the sky when your dad drives through the studio gates. The bustling world of a movie set awaits you, and you can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement mixed with a hint of nervousness.

As you pull up to the lot, you notice a mix of trailers, equipment trucks, and crew members moving purposefully around. The air buzzes with energy and anticipation. Sebastian parks the car and turns to you, a warm smile on his face.

“You ready for this, kiddo?” he asks, his blue eyes twinkling with excitement.

You nod eagerly. “Definitely. This is so cool, Dad!”

He laughs and ruffles your hair. “I’m glad you think so. Just remember, it can get a bit chaotic, but it’s all part of the magic.”

You step out of the car and follow him, taking in everything around you. The set is like a miniature city, with people rushing to and fro, each person focused on their specific task. You see camera crews setting up equipment, costume designers fussing over outfits, and actors going over their lines. It’s a whirlwind of activity, and you’re fascinated by every detail.

Sebastian leads you through the maze of trailers and set pieces, greeting various crew members along the way. Everyone seems to know him, and it’s clear he’s well-liked. You feel a surge of pride knowing your dad is such an integral part of this world.

As you walk, he points out different aspects of the set, explaining their purpose. “That’s the director’s tent,” he says, gesturing to a large structure with monitors and equipment. “They’ll be watching everything from there, making sure the shots look good.”

You nod, trying to absorb as much information as possible.

As you reach a large soundstage, Sebastian leads you inside. The transition from the bright sunlight to the dimly lit interior is jarring, but your eyes quickly adjust. The space is filled with elaborate sets that transport you into another world. You can hardly believe this is where the magic happens.

“Wow,” you whisper, looking around in awe. “This is amazing.”

Sebastian grins, clearly enjoying your reaction. “I knew you’d like it. Come on, I’ll introduce you to some people.”

“Hey, everyone,” Sebastian calls out, drawing their attention. “This is my daughter, Y/N. She’s visiting the set today.”

The actors turn to you, their expressions friendly and welcoming. You feel a little shy under their scrutiny, but you manage a smile and a wave.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” one of them says, extending a hand. “I’m Jack. Your dad’s told us a lot about you.”

You shake his hand, feeling a bit more at ease. “Nice to meet you too. It’s so cool to see everything up close.”

The others introduce themselves, and you find yourself relaxing more and more. They treat you like one of their own, making jokes and sharing stories about working with your dad. You can’t help but feel like you’re part of this big, extended family.

After a while, Sebastian takes you over to the director, a woman with a kind smile and an intense focus. She’s surrounded by monitors, watching the latest takes with a critical eye.

“Hey, Sarah,” Sebastian says, tapping her on the shoulder. “I want you to meet my daughter, Y/N."

Sarah turns and smiles warmly at you. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. Your dad’s a great guy, and an amazing actor. We’re lucky to have him.”

You blush, feeling proud. “Thanks. It’s really cool to see everything you do here. I’ve always wondered what it’s like behind the scenes.”

Sarah nods, her expression thoughtful. “It’s a lot of hard work, but it’s also incredibly rewarding. There’s nothing quite like seeing a story come to life.”

You spend the next few hours exploring the set with your dad, meeting more people and learning about their roles. You even get to watch a few scenes being filmed, and you’re amazed by how much effort goes into each shot. Every detail, from the lighting to the sound, is meticulously crafted to create the perfect scene.

At one point, you find yourself alone with your dad, sitting in a quiet corner of the set. He looks at you with a smile, a mixture of pride and affection in his eyes.

“So, what do you think?” he asks, leaning back in his chair.

“I think it’s incredible,” you reply, your eyes wide with excitement. “I had no idea how much work goes into making a movie. It’s like a whole different world.”

Sebastian nods, his expression thoughtful. “It is. And it’s a world I’m really passionate about. I’m glad you got to see it firsthand.”

You smile, feeling a surge of warmth and connection with your dad. “Me too. Thanks for bringing me here, Dad. It means a lot.”

He reaches out and squeezes your hand. “Of course, kiddo. I’m glad you’re here. And who knows? Maybe one day you’ll be part of this world too.”

You feel a spark of excitement at the thought. “Maybe. I think I’d like that.”

The day continues, and you find yourself immersed in the magic of filmmaking. You watch as your dad transforms into his character. You see the work between the cast and crew, the way they support each other and work together to create something amazing.

As the day comes to an end, you find yourself feeling a little sad to leave. You’ve fallen in love with the world of movies, and you’re already looking forward to your next visit.

On the drive home, you and your dad talk about the day’s events, sharing your favorite moments and memories. You feel a deep sense of gratitude for the opportunity to see your dad in his element, and for the chance to be part of something so special.

“Dad,” you say quietly, looking over at him. “I had an amazing time today. Thank you for bringing me.”

Sebastian smiles, his eyes filled with pride and love. “I’m glad you enjoyed it, Y/N/N. You’re always welcome on set. And who knows? Maybe you’ll be the one behind the camera one day.”

You smile, feeling a spark of excitement at the thought. “Maybe. I think I’d like that.”

As you pull into the driveway, you feel a sense of contentment and joy. Today was a day you’ll never forget, a day that brought you closer to your dad and opened your eyes to a world of possibilities.

You know that whatever path you choose, you’ll have the love and support of your dad, and that’s all you need to face whatever comes your way.

As you head inside, you can’t help but smile. You know for a fact that with your dad by your side, you’re ready for anything.

[beifong-brainrot]

If worked for the team who made Avatar TloK. How would you rewrite TloK?

To be completely honest, rewriting tlok wouldn't fix all it's issues. Tlok just needed to have longer seasons, an actually established amount of seasons so they weren't pressured to make every single season a complete story for fear of not getting more time.

But let's say, hypothetically that I murdered mr Crabs or whoever is in charge of Nickelodeon and removed any studio meddling from the show.

My perfect world would include:

More filler episodes that focus on a singular character. Think Sokka's Master or the Painted Lady. The Krew are all fascinating characters with a lot of potential, however, due to the runtime of the show, their storylines are rushed... or completely nonexistent. Give me more details of Mako and Bolin's childhood. Show me emore of Asami struggling with her father's arrest.

I'd try to cut down on the westernisation of the show. I can see why these foreign aspects slipped in, since the closer the Avatarverse inches to our modern times, the more blurred the lines become. At least to my whiteass. I'd try to lean towards silkpunk, rather than the much more west based steampunk. It would be a fascinating endeavour to imagine what a world with mostly eastern influences would look like.

I'd make Vaatu the overarching villain/final boss of the story... it would require a bit of moving around of the timeline but I think I'd structure it as: Red Lotus> Kuvira> Amon> Vaatu. However I'd blur the timeline more. Make Amon a background threat in the eariler seasons, only for him to rise in popularity and power after people see what benders like Kuvira are capable of, for example.

This would also allow for certain villains to become redeemed or at least helpful in some way, later on. Mayhaps Amon and Kuvira team with the Krew to defeat Vaatu in some way.

Also, instead of destroying Vaatu completely, I'm leaning towards Korra absorbing him, in a way. Yes Vaatu is a dark spirit, but 'darker' urges are necessary for humans' survival and happiness. Korra embodies the duality of man very well. I think it would be a fascinating idea to see the Avatar become the embodiment of both light and darkness.

In general, making Vaatu and Raava more morally ambiguous, rather than the simple good spirit/bad spirit thing they had in the og show would be a fascinating concept.

I'd do my best to pull away from the show's original centerist narrative. Have Korra learn from the villains and make active changes to the world, showing her growth as an Avatar and person. Perhaps she's reluctant to see the Red Lotus' point of view at the beginning of the show, but sympathises with Amon at the tail end of the story.

Make the entire Krew queer. And talk about queerness more, in general. Have the characters have open conversations about queerness in their respective enviornments and cultures. Tlok already has a very queer undertone to it, even before korrasami became canon, but touching on this subject more overtly would provide great opportunity for characterisation and worldbuilding.

Have the story span several years. Watch the Krew grow up. Tlok works very well as a coming of age story even in its original form. Have Vaatu and his darkness and chaos symbolise the uncharted waters of maturity at the end of teenagedom. This especially works if Korra merges or accepts him like i suggested.

There... that's some basics. I think that most of my criticisms of the show could mostly be solved if the studio wasn't being a bitch but well. We can't have nice things, can we?

I took a while to answer this ask because it was genuinely such an interesting, but overwhelming question.

Also now I have wayy too many ideas about a potential tlok rewrite, so feel free to ask me about that if you want to hear me ramble.

[bonefall]

hi! just discovered this blog from your hearing loss post, which i ADORE. throughout it you mentioned pawspeak, and i was wondering if you had any sources/posts about it, or could describe its fundamentals very simply? sorry if youve already answered this!!! youre very cool

There's not too many fundamentals to share, really! Pawspeak is just the fandom term for a Clan cat sign language. Most people have their own takes on it.

Some people like to make it use two paws, other like to do a single paw in tandem with ear flicks and tail movements, some have omitted paw movements entirely and just use ear and tail signs. Most people aren't my queer ass who worked with a friend to ACTUALLY create a full Clan cat language with its own grammatical structure; so likewise, they're just making a cat approximation of a sign language.

So there's no rules! Do as you please! You can just adapt ASL or BSL for cat paws if you want, the same way no one bats an eye when people animate the cats lipsynching to English.

I would just try to remind you, and recommend, that your sign languages evolve from deaf people.

It's both a misconception, and insultingly common for media to show hearing people inventing sign language for the benefit of their deaf friends and family, when that's not how that happens. Deaf people have agency, theyre not just waiting for an abled person to bestow language on them. Deaf communities, and communities with high rates of hearing impaired people, come up with unique sign languages if they don't already have one!

These languages are often studied by linguists as examples of "isolate" language families, which mean they evolved without ANY genetic 'relation' to another language. Nicaraguan Sign Language is a neat example of that!

(The "hearing people invent sign" thing is perpetuated by the myth that Francosign, the language family containing ASL, was invented by one really nice philanthropist. It wasn't. The man took a bunch of words from an existing deaf community in Paris, which was likely a language under the BANZSL family, didn't care to record or learn what they were ALREADY speaking, and made up his own clunky system called "methodical signs" to make a "signed version" of French. This was practically useless for casual use. Actual deaf people mixed this with the languages they were ALREADY using to talk to each other to make new ones; one famous example of this is actually ASL.)

For BB I actually plan to show Pawspeak evolving as an isolate language after the Clan's move to the Lake. It's going to be born out of Gatherings and Aftergatherings-- while Clan cooperation has actually lead to a period so peaceful that it's allowed a proper community to form. Now with a stable population of hearing-impaired cats of all Clans, each of them bringing new signs and phrases home, it can standardize into a true language around the lake.

So then I can show how most of the signs come from RiverClan, mix with the signals WindClan uses to communicate across the moor, show how violent signs tend to be tail-based because they come from battle commands, etc.

It fits the themes of BB, and gives me a chance to show how fascinating sign languages really are. Even though it'd make sense for them to already have one, tbh, I think it's worth it. (Or maybe have Lake Pawspeak basically be a language that combined the several 'pawspeaks' of the various clans.)

[swallowtailed]

palisade 37 !!!!!!!!!!!!

THEY WEREN’T LYING THAT DIVINE CAN CYCLE

perennial is the time loop and she is in the time loop!!!!! the wheel turns!!!!!!!!! incredible. i love this. 

no wonder perennial was moved by figure begging for another chance.

from a structural pov i appreciate that this is explicitly the last chance bc it keeps pressure on the players without having to resort to multiverse stuff. also a well-timed reveal for the tension in the back half of the season.

it frankly explains a lot that picking clem was a three-millionth-year-in-the-time-loop decision

also this only raises MORE questions about what’s going on off in that arm of the galaxy. they’ve worked out time travel????

oh re the intro, “according to the world i’m a hypocrite or drowned” BANGER LINE. also “the truth”/“the worst”… poor gur

other things did happen in this episode that i am also excited about. what were they again. oh right

thisbe the new bearer of integrity!! golden horns!! really racking up crew entanglements with divinity. extremely exciting. 

(i do think we are gonna need some new words by the end of the season, or a clear decision against.)

that whole sequence was so compelling—i feel like we rarely see thisbe pursue her desires so directly. her determination to reach out and understand is fascinating. and that integrity chooses people who want to change the world—wondering if this could be a direction for thisbe’s new illusion strats. 

and “my head is somewhat heavier but it doesn’t bother me” heavy is the head that wears the crown huh thisbe. excited to see where this goes !

also on engagements with divines, asepsis’s view of its role changing because brnine saw it as “a divine without a community”—sets this down next to palisade discussing his different relationships with different excerpts, “the etiquette you make with one another” (which is a very loving way of looking at it, i think). divines are socially constructed; divinity is contextual. u know.

dre has been fucking killing it as figure this season. that scene with palisade was really good. saying “this feels like a metaphor” about playing duck (lmao) was exceptionally funny because that is always true about figure all of the time

coriiiii…. i am so glad cori is able to trust her crew and find safety questioning her religious upbringing with them.

i do feel like i understand eclectic better now. we’ve gotten a few more flags: he believes in welcoming people who help him; he feels that divines are too much of a risk; he sees the cause as taking over palisade. (it is also kind of touching that he’s so insistent that they adopt a random lock & cross cop, specifically—i found that scene kind of frustrating, but it’s solid character work.)

we also learned this ep that brnine thinks they are the sexiest crew member (they’re right). however this leaves the question of who thisbe thinks is sexiest. assuming it was someone not already present in the scene but aboard the blue channel, that leaves hunting, midnite, or saffron. does thisbe think saffron is sexy?? i would believe that. she has the most physical forms, leaving aside phrygian (who i think murch said she thought was hottest?? wires??), so logically saffron could be attractive to the widest range of people. or thisbe just thinks she’s hot. i’d ship it.

[nerdygaymormon]

This Tumblr Ask is mostly an excuse to interact with another human. I hope you don’t mind.

Would you say Mormonism has a better history of changing entrenched stances than other religions?

Of the religions which don’t currently perform same sex marriages, which do you think will start in the next 100 years?

Who would you guess is going to be the central orbit in your afterlife: you or your husband?

Over the past 20 years, Salt Lake City Utah has had some of the best numbers regarding changes in racial diversity and home prices in the nation. A generation ago this relationship (then known as “White Flight”) was a major and very sad problem many municipalities faced. Is Mormonism in Florida making lives better for Black people?

These are interesting questions.

—————————

Would you say Mormonism has a better history of changing entrenched stances than other religions?

Mormonism believes in on-going revelation, and its top leader is considered to be a prophet and we also have apostles. In other words, the structure is one which suggests change is an ongoing feature of this church. Compared to where the LDS Church was in 1830 or even 1960, much has changed.

Despite this, it seems to me to be slower than others when it comes to reconsidering "entrenched stances." It didn't allow full participation by Black members until 1978. Every few years it seems to take another small step or two towards equality for women, but the slow pace of change makes it feel like it's falling further behind much of Christendom.

I think the reason for this church being slow to progress forward is that it raises questions about the role of the prophet and apostles. If the past leaders were wrong about race or the inclusion of women, what might the current leaders be wrong about? Undermining the authority & teachings of past leaders calls into question the authority & teachings of the current leaders. Can I disregard what they're saying on LGBTQ+ topics because I believe there'll be further revelation and change, even if the current leaders say that the current teachings won't change, just like the past leaders said there wouldn't be change?

The current workaround is that doctrine doesn't change, but policies do. While I know many consider the LDS Church's teachings on gender and marriage to be doctrine, they have changed many times and therefore I think of them as policies.

—————————

Of the religions which don’t currently perform same sex marriages, which do you think will start in the next 100 years?

One of the ways churches create an identity for themselves is by what they stand for. They also can define themselves by what they are against. Unfortunately, for hundreds of years Christianity has adopted being anti-gay/anti-queer as part of the definition of what it means to be Christian. Changing this identity is difficult.

There are Christian denominations wrestling with accepting same-sex marriages. Changing their stance has roiled their denominations. While many are thrilled, some traditionalists are alarmed & dismayed and whole congregations vote to leave that particular denomination.

I think this study showing the changing acceptance of gay marriage by religions in the United States is fascinating. I think it predicts most religions in the United States will ultimately accept queer people and same-sex marriages.

This chart shows that the Latter-day Saints moved the most in the past 8 years, from 27% to 50%. This is very much related to LGBTQ+ members coming out, especially teenagers and those in their 20's. Also, we have had a wave of adults who came out & left their mixed-orientation marriages. It's been a big, messy process, but now it seems most everyone knows or is related to a Mormon/ex-Mormon who is out as LGBTQ+. Which underlines that when people actually know queer folks and hear our stories, it changes hearts.

—————————

Who would you guess is going to be the central orbit in your afterlife: you or your husband?

Gosh, I don't know how to answer this. I'm not sure what this means to be the "central orbit" of my afterlife.

Considering I'm single and don't have a husband, I will have to say that it won't be my husband. Although, if I'm lucky, maybe one day my marriage status will change

—————————

Over the past 20 years, Salt Lake City Utah has had some of the best numbers regarding changes in racial diversity and home prices in the nation. A generation ago this relationship (then known as “White Flight”) was a major and very sad problem many municipalities faced. Is Mormonism in Florida making lives better for Black people?

It's interesting you speak of Salt Lake City as racially diverse. When I visit, I notice the lack of such diversity. I suppose compared to where it was, it is becoming more diverse, but so is the United States.

Utah is the 34th most racially and ethnically diverse state in the nation, putting it in the bottom half of states. Forty percent of the state’s growth since 2010 has come from racial and ethnic minority populations, who are expected to account for one in three Utahns by 2060. In contrast, it is projected by 2040 that the United States is expected to have no race or ethnic demographic which is more than 50% of the population, making us a majority minority nation.

So yes, Salt Lake City and Utah are becoming more diverse, but still lags far behind the United States as a whole.

As for your question whether Mormonism in Florida is making lives better for Black people, I don't think so. I also wouldn't say we're making life worse.

I know we have talked about being more welcoming of Black people and have had some committees in my local area to discuss what changes we can make in our congregations or what contribution we can make to the Black community in the area. I'm not aware of any sustained efforts to make changes or to partner with local organizations.

Our congregations in Florida may look more diverse than the average congregation in Utah, but typically they're not as diverse as the neighborhoods where we are located. We have much room for improvement in making a space where all feel welcome and that this is their spiritual home.

[koscheicore]

I say throw Ten into the sea/ocean. Because, why not! I'm not 100% sure he can swim tho 😔

OKAY MY THOUGHTS ARE THOUGHTING. BEAR W ME. My memory of 10 and his arcs is a bit messy but remember this?

Yeah you do. This is gonna get a bit long so imma just add a readmore

Iirc he was at some party being all emotionally unstable since he's lost so many people and he really, really doesn't want to go, to "die." So he's putting off his regeneration yeah? If I'm misremembering then pretend I'm right (?). He's obviously had too much ginger there, and the ainley!Master is there in disguise. He's been observing this Doctor for a bit, quite entertaining how he refuses to move onto his next face, how he's so fond of himself, how he wants *more.*

So much for being able to smell the Master or whatever... he definitely doesn't recognise him. He ends up flirting with this stranger of course, long conversations about nothing and everything, mutual fascination, your regular the Doctor meets the Master and is oblivious af to who he is, and when he's too wasted, the Master takes him to his TARDIS. The Doctor is a bit too intoxicated to pilot and as he rambles nonsense he begins to realise his beloved ship is moving, and the pretty stranger is at the console. How? He really doesn't like that. He tells him to stop, but he won't listen, so he gets up and tries to grab him away from the console, to no avail as this stranger opens the TARDIS' door, and messing with the gravitational configuration pushes the Doctor out.

And he falls.

He soon finds himself sinking into a nowhere planet's ocean, a familiar laughter he can't quite place still resonates in his head, "die, Doctor, die! You must die!"

He tries to swim up, but this water makes it impossible to float. He keeps fighting, desperate, he does NOT want to die, he's not ready, he will not, not yet, he still has to do so much more, besides, he had imagined his death would be different. He feels pathetic. He deserves better than this, he thinks.

"Ah but of course, you were expecting a grand finale, weren't you, Doctor? How incredibly contemptuous."

Great. He's hallucinating. The surface is far away now, the temperature is drastically lowered as darkness engulfs him and he finds himself unable to do anything but accept surrender. Is this how death feels? Cold and lonely, and a pugnant sense of regret?

Cue a myriad of sequences I haven't had the time to think of, moments he would have liked to change, to intervene with in a rather reckless way, and how he could indeed have done "more". None of these have a satisfying ending, anyways.

Eventually, he finds himself staring at the back of a figure, this scene is different, it feels rather somber, but still, familiar, in a sense. The smell of decomposition invades his senses as he squints and makes out the shape of an almost skeletal being, dry tissue flaking off it. It's, somehow, still alive, and he remembers he has seen this disintegrating shell of a person before.

"...Master?"

The figure turns around, excruciatingly slow. It stares right back at him, if one can call that staring, but what the Doctor sees is not the decayed Master. The structure of its bones is clearly that of himself. The living corpse emits a suffering whine, weak and trembling at first, but it gets louder and louder, so loud it hurts and rings not in his eardrums but in his head. He can barely make out the word as it tries to move its lips, it's only a simple...

"Regenerate."

***

The Doctor wakes up in his TARDIS, alone. She sings her usual steady hum. His tie is on the floor, alongside the hat he was wearing, and he's been sitting on the same place he barely remembers collapsing at earlier when he arrived from the party.

It's only as he manages to stabilise his breathing that he notices an itch at the back of his neck. He scratches off about a dozen hypnotic sleep patches.

---

SOOO basically the Master was guiding him through all of that because he may have noticed he was putting off his regeneration >:3c Yeah I was supposed to do little silly headcanons not a whole almost one shot but I got inspired HDKDLD HERE YOU GO HOPE YOU ENJOYED

Again my apologies if I got stuff from 10 wrong I barely remember nuwho cuz memory issues but this was fun! Also the sleep patches are those the 12th Doctor uses with Clara in Dark Water, they're technically not supposed to work on 12, so I assume they wouldn't on 10 either, but who's to say a dozen of them wouldn't or that the Master didn't tweak them somehow, or maybe it's the ginger. Anyways 10 is a mess and I am biting him.

If you want the silly headcanons still feel free to send another ask for that I got a bit carried away here fjfkfkf.

[kumeko]

A/N: For the Fraction of Light zine! I wrote this shortly after the Chalk Prince event, so yay for now-ancient lore references! I was originally going to have this be about Xiao and Albedo discussing Karma and Death and instead it became about legacies XD Albedo would grapple with this a lot, but since he’s so private…he wouldn’t really share these fears with anyone.

…

…

…

…

Albedo was certain of one thing as he followed Aether through meandering country roads and rocky mountain paths: Liyue had changed little in the past few centuries. There was still this idyllic atmosphere in the small tea shops that dotted the landscape, this sensation that time had frozen here. For all of the changes he had heard of in the busy capital, the countryside was still a peaceful place that went at its own pace.

Which was why if it weren’t for Aether’s exhausted descriptions of strange earth dragons, Albedo would never have returned. He had already gone through the country with his master, already finished recording the strange shields the hilichurls here carried, the odd ways they had adapted to the Geo Archon’s influence.

Albedo paused at that thought. The Geo Archon’s influence.

Unlike Mondstadt, where the Anemo Archon barely touched the people and monsters living there, Liyue was filled with Rex Lapis’s fingerprints. Perhaps that was the reason for the earth dragons? A new adaptation, or an older—

“Let’s take a break!” Aether grabbed his hand firmly, jolting Albedo out of his thoughts. With bright eyes and a brighter smile, he gestured at the sky-high building in front of them. “It’s a really nice inn. The owner’s cool. The place is only semi-haunted.”

“Should you really be bringing that up?” Paimon shivered, looking around fearfully. “What if you wake up that little girl again?”

“It should be fine. I think.” Aether pursed his lips, staring thoughtfully at the building before shaking his head. “Yeah, we’ll be fine. We’re just eating, right?”

“The snacks here are great!” Paimon chirped, pumping her fists and shaking her hips as she danced excitedly. It was fascinating how quickly she jumped from emotion to emotion. “Paimon wants everything.”

Aether sighed affectionately, giving her a look. “You’re always so greedy.”

“How rude!” she scowled, glaring ineffectively. Maybe it was her size. “Paimon is not greedy.”

Aether laughed. In the afternoon light, his long hair glinted like ripe wheat, like gold, like fire. In all honesty, Albedo might have come here even if there weren’t any dragons. These days, he found it harder and harder to say no to Aether.

These days, the sight in front of him was often more than enough to capture his interest.

It was an odd feeling. He’d have to investigate it later.

“Anyways, let’s go in.” Aether didn’t let go of Albedo’s hand as he pulled him toward the inn.

Albedo hadn’t seen a building that tall before—it could rival a mountain on its own. Architecture had never been a discipline of his—too stuffy, too static—but he might have been interested if it had been more about the towering structure before him. The top seemed to brush Celestia and the gods’ domain.

As though sensing his interest, Aether led him farther in instead of stopping by the many tables on the large wooden patio around the inn. The elevator ride up gave him an obstructed view of their surroundings—a marshland full of hilichurls, distant dust from dragons rolling through the dried earth, and even farther, the tell-tale smoke of a ruin guard’s missile. There were ruins here, older than himself, perhaps older than his master.

Would the truth of the world be buried there? Hidden in a secret crevice, untouched by man, was it just waiting for him to dig it out?

If he searched, would he finally find the answer he was looking for?

Aether tugged him forward again. Ever since he’d met the traveller, Aether always moved forward, as though staying still would kill him. Maybe it would. Albedo had never tested that theory.

“Why are we at the top?” Paimon complained as they stepped onto the sunny terrace. There was no one up here but them. She crossed her arms and stomped her foot on the air. “Paimon’s hungry!”

“You’re always hungry,” Aether replied dryly, turning away from the railing. “Just a little longer, okay?” He turned back to Albedo. “So, what do you think?”

“We have a lot of ground to cover,” Albedo mused as he eyed the terrain spread out before him like one of Klee’s quilts. If Mondstadt was a line of rolling hills and fields, then Liyue was the country of deep valleys and even taller mountains. “The hilichurl settlements here have advanced in unexpected ways. You said we can enter the adepti’s lands?”

“Somehow I knew you’d think that.” Aether chuckled wryly. “We can go after lunch.”

There was a soft whoosh, the displacement of air, and Albedo’s hand was on his hilt just as a blade pressed against his neck. Aether jumped back. There was a strange grace to the way he slid into a stance, to the way he reached for his sword. His hair coiled around him like a whip.

“Woah! What’s going on!” Paimon shouted.

Albedo slowly looked over his shoulder, following the blade down to the polearm’s other end to find a short, green-haired boy scrutinizing him. Despite the blade at his neck, the boy didn’t feel entirely hostile. If anything, he felt more perplexed than anything. The stranger’s brow furrowed. “You…”

“Xiao!” Aether sighed with relief. Smiling once more, he reached for the polearm and gently pushed it away, not fearing an attack in the least. “It’s okay! He’s with me!”

“Why’d you have to scare Paimon like that?” Paimon hovered next to Xiao, pouting. She wagged a finger at him, indignant. “We’re in a hotel! It’s supposed to be safe!”

Xiao didn’t spare her a glance. “Anyplace can be a battleground.”

“I don’t think Verr would agree to that.” Aether scratched his cheek before shaking his head. “Yeah, she wouldn’t like it. Still, I’m glad you’re here!”

Xiao glanced at Aether. After a few seconds, he huffed and retracted his weapon, though he kept a wary eye on Albedo. “It’s not the same. Why are you here?”

“Sucrose wanted Albedo to take a vacation and I accepted the commission.” Aether patted Albedo on the shoulder, bouncing on his heels in excitement. “This is Albedo! Albedo, this is Xiao.”

That greeting explained nothing. Albedo studied Xiao. There was something off about him, in the same way that Aether was a little off compared to a regular human. Despite their youthful looks, both of their eyes couldn’t hide their age, couldn’t hide the years they’d witnessed.

He should know—he saw the same eyes in the mirror. “What are you?”

Xiao’s frown returned. “What are you?”

“Ugh, why are you both like this?” Paimon hung her head, her arms dangling at her sides. “Paimon thinks they shouldn’t have met.”

“Don’t be like that, it’s fine.” Unfazed by the tension, Aether quickly stood next to Xiao. “He’s Xiao, an adeptus!” He stepped next to Albedo. “And this is Albedo, a researcher.”

“More like a mad scientist,” Paimon added snidely, snickering at her own joke.

“Mad?” Xiao repeated suspiciously.

“Not like that!” Aether laughed, breaking the tension as usual with his warm presence. He wrapped an arm around Xiao and the other one around Albedo, pulling them close. Their shoulders bumped awkwardly. Albedo leaned away before their heads knocked together. “I never thought you guys would meet! This is great!”

Xiao coloured slightly and he looked away. “Sure.”

Interesting. Albedo had seen a similar reaction in himself around Aether. A single incident was an anomaly, two a coincidence, and three a pattern. Maybe he should investigate this matter, now that he had a potential sample size. Was Aether causing this reaction, or was it pure coincidence? Perhaps a third, unknown element that connected them all?

Paimon sighed. Her stomach rumbled and she tugged on Aether’s braid. “Let’s eat!”

Aether looked up. “But—”

His stomach grumbled too and Paimon rested her hands on her hips triumphantly. “See? You’re hungry too.”

“It was a long journey,” Aether agreed reluctantly, pulling away. He sighed before brightening. “We can eat lunch together, all four of us! I’ll get you two something. Almond Tofu and,” he turned to Albedo, “a Sunshine Sprat?”

Albedo nodded, a shiver running down his spine now that Aether’s warm presence had left.

“Great! Let’s go!” Paimon started to float to the stairs. “You think they’ll burn the place down while we’re gone?”

Aether laughed as he followed. “Probably not.”

“Probably?” Paimon shouted.

Albedo watched as his companions disappeared down a flight of steps. Interruptions gone, he returned his gaze to Xiao. “What did you mean earlier?”

Xiao raised his brow but didn’t reply. He spoke even less than Diluc. There was something about him that was similar to Venti, but not quite. Was it immortality? Power? Albedo had seen multiple kinds of immortality, none of them the same. Aether smelled of the stars, Venti the wind, and this man of darkness.

Albedo wanted his paints. It was easier to think when he made quick strokes with a brush, his mind unravelling a gorgon’s knot of problems onto a blank canvas. “It’s not the same,” he repeated, his twitching fingers gripping his pants instead. “Did you mean the fact that I’m not human?”

“No.” Xiao scanned him head to toe and shook his head. His grip tightened on his polearm. He frowned. “Your presence…it’s similar to a demon’s.”

“A demon’s?” Faintly, Albedo remembered hearing about them during his last trip here. A tale of evil gods and the five guardians that vanquished them. It had sounded like a fairy tale, but then again, most of the stories in this world were grounded in some truth.

Xiao didn’t clarify. “It’s not the same.” His frown grew deeper, suspicion leaking into his voice. “Aether smelled like that once—was that you?”

It was easy to guess what Xiao was referring to. Albedo didn’t think another could feel the darkness in the sword, the murky hate that resonated in his bones.  Aether had been unaffected, but would another immortal have been unable to resist the siren call?

Maybe Sucrose had been right. Maybe it was high time he searched somewhere other than those foreboding mountains.

“Similar, but not the same,” Albedo answered, echoing Xiao.

Judging by his scowl, that wasn’t the expression the adeptus wanted. He raised his weapon slightly, steel in his voice. “Did you do something to him?”

“If I had, would you be able to stop it?” Albedo asked instead. Durin had taken a dragon and a country down with him, had razed the earth and left behind a scar that hadn’t yet faded. For all of Aether’s strength, for all of his sister’s powers, it would take more to stop Albedo if he did the same.

It would take much more, and Albedo didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to force it out of Aether. Every experiment required a control, every test a backup. And if Aether was his first specimen, maybe Xiao or the other adepti could be his second.

In all probability, it would take an immortal to stop an immortal.

“Is that a yes?” Xiao growled. A light breeze blew, his clothes fluttering to invisible hands. His grip on his polearm tightened.

“Not quite. It was a sword I gave him.” Albedo watched, fascinated, as the wind rose higher before dying out entirely. “Would you be able to destroy it?”

Despite calming down, Xiao didn’t lower his weapon. “Maybe.”

That wasn’t a conclusive answer. He pressed harder. “Maybe?”

“That presence…Your presence, it is similar to a demon’s.” His eyes grew colder. “And even to the very last remnant, I will destroy a demon.”

“Remnant…” In all honesty, that word fit him and that sword better than a demon. A remnant. The lingering will of his mentor. Durin’s bones had jutted out of the earth, his blood dotted the mountain, his hate filled the soil. Was that what his master had wanted? Destruction? Rage?

He wished he could say no. He wished he could say yes. Instead, he was left with this uncertainty that gnawed at him deeper than any chill.

Albedo lowered his gaze to his hands. “It would be best if nothing was left at all.”

If, like the chalk after it rains, he just washed away entirely.

Xiao snorted. “There’s always something left.”

He jerked his head up, not expecting that response. “Something?”

“Karma. Good or bad, that always remains.” Xiao turned to the staircase. “A god’s hatred. Regret. The memories they didn’t want erased. Something always remains, lingering until time finally cleanses it.”

Something remaining, something stuck behind—Albedo gripped his shirt. It was a truth he couldn’t reject. The sword was all that was left of Durin’s desires. Albedo was all that remained of his master’s wishes. Old Mondstadt survived, despite the destruction it had faced.

Something, big or small, always remained. And if that was the case, what would stay behind after he disappeared? If Albedo was his master’s lingering will, then what was his lingering will?

His art? His research?

Aether’s golden head popped up as he climbed the stairs, his expression apologetic. His arms carefully balanced three plates, his steps steady to avoid a disastrous crash. “Sorry for the wait!”

Xiao shot Albedo one last suspicious look before turning back to Aether. His polearm disappeared as he carefully picked up the plate of Almond Tofu. “That took a while.” His expression was soft despite his reprimand.

Aether laughed sheepishly, scuffing his shoe on the ground. “Sorry, Paimon kept asking for more.”

“Hey! Paimon’s hungwy!” Paimon mumbled between a mouthful of kebab.

“Yes, yes.” Aether turned to Albedo and held out a plate. The fish on it looked perfectly cooked. He smiled brightly. “I saved yours from her.”

Transfixed, Albedo stared at Aether’s smile. It was funny how something that simple could dissipate his fears. How a single look could calm him. It was hard to fear an unknown future when he knew Aether was by his side.

“Albedo?” Aether cocked his head.

Albedo smiled back. Aether’s smile always had a way of drawing out his own. There was something hopeful in Aether’s expression that Albedo responded to, despite himself. He stepped forward to take the plate. “Thanks.”

There was reason to hope. Perhaps his master had intended for Albedo to do, to be good. Maybe he wouldn’t rampage like Durin. And maybe, Albedo would find that truth of the world, and that would set him free.

Yet, even if it didn’t, even if the worst came to pass, there were options. Aether was strong. Xiao was confident. One way or another, Albedo’s destruction would stop by their hands. He would disappear, with barely a trace.

And that trace—if he had to leave something behind, if something had to linger like a faint line of chalk after the storm, then let it be this. Not a cursed sword. Not his many paintings and theories and research notes. Not even the truth of the world.

No, let it just be this smile that only Aether could draw out.

This single, hopeful smile.

[tobiasdrake]

Yuki Spinoff, Episode 2: Joy to the World

Episode 3 is titled "Haruhi Suzumiya!!" so Yuki better enjoy her Christmas Party 'cause her life's about to go dramatically downhill.

Gonna have to make this one two posts 'cause I have a lot to say about this episode.

I noticed this in the first episode but I love the decision to change Yuki from a strict book-reader to also being a gamer. It does demonstrate the change in times, as Melancholy was released in 2006 while Disappearance of Yuki Nagato is from 2015, and gaming has become more proliferated over time.

But, more importantly, it also demonstrates the change in Yuki. Yuki Prime's never gone into detail about why she reads, but it's a fair assumption that she does it for the same reason most of us consume media: A desire to absorb information, experiences, and emotions through characters and situations.

Media exists in conversation with culture. By consuming media, Yuki is participating in culture. You could assume that she's only doing it to gather information, being a robot, but Yuki specifically reads fiction. She's looking for the same things everybody else is.

However, her media of choice is strictly text. She doesn't have a TV or video games or anything. She consumes experiences and emotions through text. Because Yuki herself is text. She can't watch a neutral expression on a screen slowly grow into a smile and immediately relate and understand what that means. She's more comfortable with a narrative structure that explains outright in words what the characters are feeling and going through. That's what Yuki can understand.

But this new Yuki, her ideal escapist form of Yuki with a full three-dimensional range of emotions, isn't limited in the same way. She shares Yuki Prime's love of media, shares her fascination with living vicariously through characters. But she can indulge her interests in ways the original could not, because she knows what it feels like to smile and enjoy things, to get excited by a rare drop, or to grieve a beloved character.

She is Yuki Unchained.

Ryoko has the perfect pre-"I hope you got your affairs in order because CHILD NOBODY IS GOING TO SEE YOU ALIVE AGAIN" Pleasant Mom Smile.

I wonder if Ryoko has parents? Yuki lives alone because Yuki Prime lives alone, because she's a space robot. But Escapist Yuki isn't a space robot, so the fact that she has no parents is simply a consequence of living situation transference she can't comprehend.

By the same logic, Ryoko should be a space robot. But Ryoko did have parents on paper. They weren't real and nobody ever saw them, but they did legally exist. "Her dad" even called the school when she "moved to Canada".

So I wonder what her living situation is here? Does she live alone like Yuki? Did this reality manifest real parents for her? Did it manifest real parents but they're out-of-country? Is she knowingly deceiving people into thinking she has parents?

What is your parental situation, Ryoko?

Ignoring the Skip Intro button from the shady piracy website providing my screenshots, can we all take a moment to acknowledge how great my character looks in this show that's not about her?

Black monochrome is a fantastic look for Haruhi because it's a color-scheme that matches her personality. Haruhi's always exuded Mean Girl Energy, pretty much from the moment we met her. She's a weird Mean Girl but she's a violent, self-absorbed misanthrope.

In a lot of other shows, she would be the protagonist's bully.

In her own show... that's still fairly accurate, yeah. It gets weirdly romanticized but it's still more or less her and Kyon's dynamic. She's like if Hey, Arnold! actually had its title character fall in love with Helga Pataki.

And just like that, I have dated myself to a billion years old. Okay. But it's true! That's what Haruhi and Kyon remind me of.

Haruhi most commonly sports the same outfit that everyone else is wearing due to Japanese school uniformity. But, courtesy of the decision Disappearance made to put her in a different school in Yuki World, this is the first time she's had her own unique aesthetic among the main cast. Well, apart from Itsuki, but he's a devout follower anyway.

This contrast against the uniformity of the rest of the cast makes Haruhi pop. She's eye-catchingly unique among a sea of brown blazers, as befits the center of the universe (in persona, even if no longer in power or character role). And the near-all-black color scheme gives her a wicked edge to her appearance, perfectly conveying her Mean Girl status.

Basically what I'm getting at is that I don't know how Haruhi's going to be used in this show but I wish she looked like this back in the original because holy hell is that the perfect Haruhi aesthetic.

I could watch Yuki and Kyon have a fun snowball fight for twenty straight minutes. That could be all this episode is and I would be satisfied.

Look at her. Look at how happy she is. This is all she wanted when she reshaped the universe. Haruhi twisted time and space to make time travelers and space aliens and espers and sliders, but Yuki did it to make this.

Meanwhile Ryoko remains MVP of this show. This subversion of the typical "surprised character hit in the face by thing as they walk into the room" gag is beautiful and conveys the composed and professional persona of Class President Ryoko Asakura.

I love how coy the show is playing about... like... how Ryoko she is. She vaporized the cotton snowball in her hand and then releases her battle aura. It's a funny gag. But. Also. There is a deep tension inherent to this incredibly likable character, to the point that it's not clear how literally we're meant to take this.

She did not actually blast Yuki and Kyon out the window with a Kamehameha beam of pure disapproval. But maybe she could? I don't know.

And then straight to the turkey! Like that didn't happen. XD

I'm so glad Yuki got her turkey. She wanted a turkey so bad. This is her first Christmas with full emotional range and all of it was invested in getting this turkey. She put her whole psyche into it every single time she exclaimed the English word "TURKEY!" last episode.

I became very invested in Yuki getting a turkey. Now she has one. I am very satisfied right now.

Oh, Yuki. This is Melancholy tone. A little bit of selfishness is what makes the universe go 'round.

Maybe my mind's bent from too much reality-warping but this conversation feels subtextually linked to Yuki's decision to eat Haruhi, remake the universe, and resurrect Ryoko in the first place.

Like. They're literally talking about the fate of Yuki Yuki Literature Club but the vibe feels much grander. That Yuki begins the conversation speaking in her emotionless Space Robot voice gives it this... between-the-worlds tone.

Like. Remember the last episode of PMMM when Madoka, Sayaka, and Mami were eating cake in a heavenly extradimensional Mami's Apartment Reality while they discuss Madoka's wish? That's what this feels like, to me.

Literally, this scene is an actual conversation that occurred between them in Yuki's World. But symbolically, subtextually, they're talking about the decision to manifest their reality in the first place. Saving the Literature Club here is, for the characters, exactly what it sounds like; But for the audience, it stands in for creating this world.

Look at her.

Only a monster wouldn't want her to have this turkey. This is the greatest moment of her... six days of life.

[eggs-are-bricks]

a detailed explanation of every anime ive ever watched bc i feel like it

first of all no hate to ppl who like the stuff i trashed on here, same goes for ppl disliking the things i glazed. technically my first anime was pokemon -but thats everyone's first so ill be brief. my fav series was pokemon black & white, xy and xyz were pretty good but nothing compared to b&w.

as a kid i also loved glitter force and lolirock! not much to say i jst love cartoons. ok real post time:

in 4th grade i was really into animation story time youtubers; especially wolfichu. i NEEDED to have her artstyle. so around that time she among others had mentioned in passing tokyo mew mew, so i found a dub of it on youtube.

tokyo mew mew was okay, i wasnt invested in it i juast watched it to be more like wolfichu. i barely got like 5-10 eps in before i forgot ab it and moved on; deciding i would simply not like anime and draw in an anime artsyle in harmony.

and so i didnt watch anime for the next 2 years. i think i told people i did to be cool(i was not cool) but alas, i was a poser. in 7th grade i was online way more and saw ppl talking about anime a lot, so i made a big list of all the ones people told me to watch and decided i would watch them in the summer of 2021

a bit before summer my bff recommended i watch a silent voice. i really liked it, not much to say, its p fuckin good! i really like Shoko's design.

okay summer time-- first on the watch list was the promised neverland; i got though it in a day and felt mildly positive towards it. it was interesting when i connected it to my favorite comic at the time (space boy) but i didnt wanna rewatch.

then there was mha. my bff really liked it at the time so i did have motivation to watch it- but i felt nothing twords the plot and characters. i watched the first 3 seasons but i rember none of it bc i was so distracted and bord the whole time. no hate to mha fans!! i really wanted to get into it; but i once again came to the conclusion i am not a person who likes anime.

i focused on watching other cartoons for a while but my bff got really into attack on titan; so i said over and over i would watch it but never actually did. technically this doesnt count but i know the whole plot form he sending well structured wikipedia esc infodumps about it. so im mentioning it, sue me i dare you.

i also watched the first season of saki k. it wasnt outstanding but it was funny enough.

a good bit into 2022 i saw people on tiktok talking about watamote, it seemed interesting enough, so i watched it. i liked it more then any anime id seen before(spare a silent voice and pokemon). it wasnt really an interest, i had no further thoughts about it, it was pretty funny and the ending song is a fucking banger witch is still on all my playlists!

durring 8th grade i was also forced by my friend-at-the-time to watch komi cant communicate. now, at first i was told to watch the sub(as the dub wasn't out yet). i dont watch subs. i cant watch them at all, i read slow and there is no enjoyment for me and i dont care about the voice acting i need it out loud. but as mentioned komi had no dub for a while so i sat though the first ep and then gave up. months later; dub was out and i watched it. it was fineeee. standered. it was what i expected; i didnt really like it but i didnt hate it. i was just a person who didnt like anime. no changing that.

until-

around the end of my 8th grade year or beginning of my freshman year i saw someone on tiktok talking about school live club! it sounded really interesting so i watched it- and oh my god. i loved it. to this day i love it. SPOILERS!!: the other girls playing into Yukis delusions for their own peace of mind was fascinating. every characters personal story-- the twist with Megumi-- the depiction of ptsd with Kurumi-- the ending--- i loved it.

so naturally, i assumed it was one of a kind and i simply was not a person who liked anime.

during my freshman year i watched madoka magica. i was recommended it by a friend and it statemented itself as the second anime i turly loved. after madoka i started looking for anime i like again

bloom into you hit me on a personal level, it was like a truck that hit my face saying "hey, this is a kinda relationship that is possible", witch mattered because at the time i thought i was aroace bc of my avoidant tendencys. i had trouble loving people so the idea of somone wanting a relationship because ill never romantically love them is smth i hoped for- in retrospect i am not aroace and i just needed to not have only superficial attachments to people but hey it made me happy at the time.

summer before 10th grade-- i was at my fist con and decided if i couldn't find anything to buy i would at least network. i met a really cool artist and chatted with her for a while. she had a keychain i thought was cute so i asked her what it was from. thus my introduction to bochi the rock! and god, it i really wanted to like bochi. i loved guitar and wanted to learn it; i loved her design; the premise want miserably boring; i wanted to like it! but there was no dub, and god i cannot watch subs, its pathetic but i had to drop it.

during the first semester of my junior year i was still working on the future is blue. i mention this because apon seeing an anime with almost the same premise as my comic, i had to watch it. a lull in the sea was an interesting premise for sure, but i never actually finished it. the seris main theme is fish people face xenophobia, but what stuck out to me most was a pattern i noticed with how people treated the heroin. (this is from memory so i might get stuff wrong) i had BEEF with that way Manaka was constantly infanatalized by her friends. the main character constantly treats her like an idiot who is hopless without him. when she comes home crying after being cat-called by some old pos she is told shes being dramatic. like, no wonder she got close with the fisher boy so quickly, HES NICE TO HER!! still id rewatch it in theory if i have time.

and then there was talentless nana. the game changer.

♡ part 2

[emcandon]

Eyyyy I got asked to write an essay about big robots and digressed into mulling over monstrous metaphors

There’s Bones in that Bot By Emma Mieko Candon When people met me at 25, the wrongness of my body was immediately apparent. It was the thinness, the frailty, the new scars and fragile veins. Another clue: the walker and its cat-mauled tennis balls. So too the oxygen tank—the fancy kind you keep in a bag that spurts air up the tube into your nose only when you inhale. Tst-tst-tst. Even when I graduated to a cane and a steady gait, I made no effort to hide the red tangle of knotty scars at my throat, though I did my best to contain the chronic cough. (A mistake, BTW. Cover your mouth, but don’t hold it in. Great way to put even more stress on the flesh apparatus.) I had by then long since been convinced by Donna Haraway’s thesis of cyborg humanity—that we as entities exceeded our flesh the second we developed tool use, and that it got even worse when we introduced the context of gifts and possessions. But as the years go on, the extended thing-ness of my body only grows more apparent. I am artificial and constructed; I am alive because I have been built.  I thought this was what brought me to a fascination with robots and AI—the extension of humanity through embodied machines! But no, my friends said. We remember the whole Gundam thing. The Machine is a Monster Right, the whole Gundam thing. About that.

This might sound weird coming from someone who’s just put out a book about beautiful giant robots, but I’ve never really been interested in robots—at least when they aren’t moving. When a giant robot is just standing there/floating in space/being a Gunpla model, a monument to itself, my eyes pass over its silhouette as they would any other large structure. Perhaps I’m impressed by its artistry, or intrigued by the underlying design, but it isn’t really an object of curiosity.

But when that titan lifts its hand? When its leg rises and its foot crashes down—when it turns its arm to reveal the medium of great violence? 

Then I am afraid. Then I am fascinated.

I am drawn to large machinery in the way I am to monsters. When I describe something on the magnitude of a spaceship, I know it can be warmth and a home, but it is also, to me, an existential threat of size and speed and impact. My body is all too familiar with its own fragility. I cannot perceive this immensity without thinking of my fundamental physical relationship to it.

I don’t know that I was thinking any of this, even on an intuitive level, when Gundam Wing first stomped into my life—when it was Toonami’s heady alternative to Dragon Ball Z that I was instantly in love with for the pretty boys and twisty political intrigue. Now, though, I am well versed in the brittle nature of my body, and I have been taking new hikes through Gundam: Iron-Blooded Orphans, then more recently (it just finished! go watch it!) Gundam: the Witch from Mercury. Both series are immediately and intimately Gundam at its best: 

1. an interrogation of exploited bodies in the context of vast systems and machines

2. the absurd and precious possibility of human connection.

Ah, right, and 3., the eternal backbone of Gundam as a narrative: War…bad???

The Monster is People

War bad. Seems silly. Pithy. Of course war bad. No one right with their mind, body, or soul wants war. 

Do they? Enh. Reality seems to beg to differ. War is happening, right now, all over, in all its ugliness and horror. The great machines of nation, capital, hunger, and hatred grind our smallness through cruelty after cruelty. And for all these great things are the dire mechanisms, it is small human hands that pull the triggers and incise flesh. It is a devouring cycle, it is corrosively sick, we are so pitifully trapped.

I struggle to write this with any kind of resonance or meaning. War bad. Simple, two words, three letters each, and yet abysmally less than the entirety they gesture toward. How many more words would I need? How many more letters and syllables and theories and treatises and grotesqueries must I lay down to properly express war?

Because you have to say something. The nothing is worse. Deadly. 

But how? How do you encapsulate the monstrous enormity? How do you even begin?

I don’t know, I don’t know. But I see how some have tried.

The People is the Machine

Giant robots are shockingly silly. They’re physically impossible. They’re often being painted bright LEGO colours or being constructed out of mechanized lions. As often as they’re the centre of gritty stories of human suffering (with a touch of transcendent human connection), they’re goofy warriors for goodness, light, and the power of friendship, taking part in schlocky melodrama. When asked by a stranger what I write about, I say “Oh, giant robots” in the most self-effacing tone. SILLY!

Here’s the thing: this genre has a legacy, at least in Japan. There, mecha stories arrive in the aftermath of World War II, during which Japan both suffered and was the perpetrator of unconscionable violence. And in that aftermath, the Japanese government was (and still is) often eager to honour only its own dead—and to sweep under the rug all the horrors it committed. 

How do you live with that? How do you breathe? What do you say?

I don’t think it’s always—or even usually—conscious. Maybe you just find yourself drawn to the idea of samurai and ronin, men of violence bound by rigid hierarchies and honour codes. And maybe you particularly like to write stories where their moral centres are flayed open by the commands of their superiors. “Kill that man,” says the lord. “This doesn’t seem right,” says the samurai—as he kills the man, and then has to somehow goddamn live with it.

Maybe this is what you need to express the overwhelming pressure of complicity and silence.

Or maybe you find yourself thinking in terms of the sheerly absurd. Monsters of incredible magnitude. Robots of like immensity. Maybe you use them to evoke atrocities lived and visited upon your world and body. Maybe it seems only right that they should also dance, that they should be cartoonish caricatures of human experience. Because maybe this metaphor of ludicrous size and self is just the best way to articulate a raw immensity that you cannot otherwise grasp. 

Maybe that’s why the robot needs to be larger than the world should ever let it be.

They’re Metaphors, Harold

Small wonder that, when I started writing a book driven by the dissolution of my body, I reached for the magnitude of mechs. It wasn’t intentional. It just happened. Here was an idea perfectly fashioned for a story of total self-destruction and survival. I wasn’t looking to express how I had been let to live because of my artificial hips, or because of the machines that pumped air and blood out of and back into my body. I was trying to capture a giant. 

No. That’s not right. I was trying to say that I had been captured by that giant.

No. That’s not right either. I was trying to say that the giant had pulverized me, and that in so doing, it had made me part of it, and that now I live with the tremors of its weight in my every step.

I got so fucking big.