#and its construction was BAFFLING

[octo-crafts]

Will anyone else be in costume tonight when I go out? Probably not, but I don't have any other excuse to dress up this week.

The vest, skirt, and shirt are all the same ones from this post. For the shirt decor, I bought a cheap steampunk choker and dismantled it for parts (one piece was already falling off from where it had been hot glued to the lace) and sewed snaps to one side of each little metal piece. Then, I sewed the other sides to my shirt, and attached the other side of the snaps. This way, I can still button and unbutton my shirt, and if I want to just have a black shirt again/get a better steampunk shirt (i did also buy a brown sheet i'll eventually turn into a shirt, but there wasn't time for that this year) I'll be able to pick out the stitching with relatively little damage to the shirt.

[catominor]

post no longer cancelled though actually. take my hand. look at their littwle shoesies with me :')

[mariocki]

What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962)

"Jane, did you ever stop to think that... if anything happened to me, I mean anything bad, there wouldn't be any money for you? I wouldn't be here to sign the checks. You wouldn't even have pocket money. Did you ever think of that?"

"Yeah, I've thought about that."

[christopher-bryant]

hackers: *leak wolverine footage thats not even a quarter into its alpha phase nor was supposed to be released publicly*

every brain dead moron online: this looks terrible. insomniac needs to step it up. im not buying this garbage looking game.

[timeisacephalopod]

I saw a post like, awhile ago now that was mad about "like shaming" because people obviously would like Tumblr to function like Tumblr and not like Instagram or Twitter (no I will Not call it That) and it's like breh. If you see "reblog stuff because that's how this site works" and you get offended enough to call it "like shaming" then go back to a site where likes actually spread shit around instead of whining people would like you to use Tumblr as intended. Fucking "like shaming" no, for the last like seven years on this site the existing user base has repeatedly had to explain how Tumblr works and instead of just using the damn site that way you whine about like shaming??? If you want to use a like based social site then get off tumblr- like obviously you don't even like it here if you cannot use the site as intended without it being "shaming" to you??

[magickedhat]

someday gilmore will get tired of being rich and when that day comes hell will really break loose i think -

[deadsetobsessions]

Edit: thank you @tetranationaltortoise for pointing out that the Red Spot is on Jupiter instead of Saturn! Fixed it! You’re not nickpicking, you’re providing very appreciated constructive criticism (and a basic fact check I should have done lol) <3

Danny, as usual, hadn’t meant to become the local cryptid. Local being extremely relative, as his locality in this instance is… space.

He just wanted to have some relaxation time. He just wanted to do some homework, chill on Mars or something, and then call it a day.

This hero business was taxing and Danny took his breaks when he could. Take that, work-life balance! Just kidding, Danny had no work-life balance. His life is a mess and he's overworked.

What was it that Superman had said in that one interview?

“Evil never sleeps."

Apparently, that also meant Danny never slept either.

“Hrk!” Danny snorted awake, looking around wildly at the vast expanse of space to see what woke him.

….

Yeah, that’ll do it.

In front of him, merrily floating through space, is the battered remains of what used to be an asteroid and a mecha that’s a weird combination of Gotham’s vigilante hero, Batman, and Metropolis’ Golden Boy, Superman.

The vibrations of the collision had shaken Danny awake.

Danny got up, baffled as hell and half asleep still. He floated to the giant Bat insignia tumbling around, inching closer as he saw the- oh hell, that’s so cool, it’s a plane!- cockpit and the passed out hero inside of it. Danny clicked his tongue, the sound swallowed by the lack of air.

He shoved the plane closer to earth, passing it to a bewildered (and both beat up and stressed out) Superman, who did a double take at the glowing green boy chucking him the Toy-maker Batplane.

Danny had waved, blinked out of visibility, and had gone back to his nap.

After phasing inside the plane and nabbing a batarang from Batman’s pouch, that is. Danny will consider it payment for the clean up service he’d unwittingly signed himself up for.

And so went the first encounter.

——

The second time he met the so called Big Leagues, Danny had just come back from fighting Dan. He wanted a break, dammit, and if staring at Saturn’s gorgeous rings and gaseous formations helped him sleep better, then that’s what’s going to happen.

Then, a similarly green glowing Green Lantern “landed” to where he was floating curled up. Danny knew about Lanterns. Their council often tried to meddle in his court.

“Hello,” the Ring projected its Lantern’s words to Danny’s head. Danny tilted his head without looking at the Lantern. “I’m John Stewart. What are you doing out here, kid?”

Danny thought this guy had a nice, soothing voice. Powerful, as Latern tended to be, but infinitely kind.

Danny decided that this one wasn’t immediately on his shit list.

“Phantom.” He said, and the Lantern asked him to repeat it as the glow of his ring enveloped the halfa.

“Phantom. Are you lost, Phantom?”

“No, just dead.”

John Stewart paused. “…Dead?”

“I’m a ghost,” Danny raised his hands and phased it through the Lantern’s arm.

“Ah,” the man said, flustered. “Right. So… you’re just…”

“Hanging out.” As he talked to the Lantern, Danny had a rather amusing idea. He rotated himself- turned- towards Jupiter and pointed to the Red Spot. “That’s actually my grave.”

John Stewart paused. “I’m sorry…?”

“My grave. Don’t disturb it. It’s rude,” Danny lied through his sharp ghost teeth. “Your council disturbed my grave the last time they stopped by and it took ages to get it back right.”

The green Lantern shield enveloping Danny flickered as John Stewart went through the five stages of grief. To be fair, the council had last visited this solar system... a couple thousand years ago, so John was no doubt rapidly doing some mental math regarding Danny's age.

“The council disturbed your grave…?”

“Not that they knew it, those pretentious weirdos.” Danny pretended to be offended, just to see the struggle on John’s face as he debated defending the council or telling a dead child their grave didn’t matter. Because Stewart was a hero, he went with the latter.

“I see. I am sorry, on their behalf.”

“Eh, whatever. Just make sure they don’t do it again. So… what can that ring do?”

——

"Hi. Could you not litter in space, please?"

Wonder Woman whirled around, sword out and pointed at Danny.

"A... child? Who are you, child?"

"I'm not a child-! You know what, it doesn't even matter. See that?" Danny waved at the pieces of shattered meteor and smashed up alien tech floating outside of the watch tower. "Littering is not cool."

"How did you get in here?"

"I'm Phantom. This is kind of my neighborhood." Danny let his mouth run, sleep deprived and exhausted. "I'm dead, that's how I got in here. Could you not litter in my backyard, please?"

He had better things to do than cleaning after full grown adult heroes.

"Oh, you are the ghost child Lantern mentioned! I see! My apologies, the clean up will be starting in a bit." Wonder Woman slid her sword back into its sheath.

"Great. Nice meeting you. I'll stick around to make sure you young whipper snappers clean up properly."

With that, Danny sunk into the floor. After a moment's deliberation, he decided to take a nap in the floor vent.

——

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Danny jolted awake once more. Ancients, like mentor, like mentee. Robin stared at him, awkwardly wriggling through the floor vents.

"I'm taking a nap here," Danny grumbled. "What are you doing in the vents?"

"Me? What are you doing in the vents? I'm allowed in here!"

"Wonder Woman knows I'm here," Danny replied. She knows... probably? "I'm Phantom."

"Robin."

"So... what are you doing?"

"Knowledge is power," Robin intoned, clearly imitating the Bat.

Danny stared.

"... You're stalking the JL?"

"Information gathering!"

"Stalking," Danny concluded, ignoring Robin's grumble. "Yeah, okay. If you need help, let me know, I guess."

"I don't need help." Robin paused, tilting his head to the side like a particularly curious bird. "Unless you're up for some pranks? Green Lantern's been getting on my nerves lately."

Danny frowned at him. "I like John Stewart."

"You've met- no, not him, the other one."

"Oh. What do I get out of it?"

Robin reached into his belt pouch and pulled out... a bag of marshmallows? How the hell did that-? Ah, right, hammerspace.

"Oh, wait, can you eat this?"

"I'm dead, not tasteless. I love marshmallows, hand it over. I'll help out."

"Deal."

——

"I swear to god, Spooky, there's something in the walls. It's even creepier than you!"

Batman grunted. He'd stop Robin if he went too far and it started affecting Lantern's abilities on the field, but as far as the Dark Knight was concerned, the Green Lantern had it coming. Robins were vindictive on a good day. If Hal hadn't learned that from Dick, then Jason's retaliation was well deserved.

"Oh, maybe it's the ghost!" Hal said, looking around with his ring glowing.

"I thought John said he was a godling?" Diana polished her sword as she looked on in amusement.

"The boy." Batman grunted. "Not human, his pointed ears and green skin is proof of that. Did J'onn say anything?"

"Not yet."

"Whatever he is, he saved Batman. He's welcome in the Tower," Superman tilted back as his hearing picked up on Robin's and Phantom's snickering.

[reikiajakoiranruohoja]

One thing that eternally baffles me with people calling dog sports abusive, is how the offered alternative assumes that a dog is happiest when it is not doing anything.

Putting aside PETA and its anti-pet stance, most critique I have seen comes from people saying the dogs are forced to perform for humans and therefore its exploiting them.

But even a cursory understanding of dog breeds tells you this mentality is not only flawed but also ignorant of the needs of the animal.

For one, you cannot force a dog to do things most dog sports require. If a greyhound doesn't want to run, it won't. If a husky doesn't want to pull a sled, it won't. Have you ever seen a dog in a situation it doesn't like? Most of us have to drag our dogs to the vet and then try our best to mitigate the dog's displeasure towards the vet.

A dog who wants to do something like running or fetching will do it regardless of your opinion. That is why most of dog training is directing this want so the dog isn't destroying things or hurting people.

The breed or breed mix also affects things. If you get a chihuahua, the experience with that dog is completely different from a border collie or a husky. Heck, even closely related breeds like German shepherds and Belgian malinois are vastly different in their temperament and mentality. There is this call for ignorance and naivete in posts decrying dog sports, where breed doesn't exist and any kind of activity outside the home is harmful to the dog. Admitting that dogs have been bred for jobs is to admit that human contact is not always negative for animals and that is a bridge too far for many of these people. It also means that jobs such as ratting, hunting, protection and such are blissfully ignored or assumed to be forced by humans. This means that when a pampered terrier does maul the family guinea pig, the owner gets blamed for abusing the animals. Posts that tell you dog sports are evil are not made with the dogs in mind, they are made solely for an ideology that benefits humans who do not have to live with the animal in question and so can sit on their constructed high horse.

[mottlemoth]

Re: "But don't you find it beautiful and meaningful that Izzy got to experience happiness before he died? He ended his life surrounded by love and that was great for him."

You folks are sailing right past our one main issue here. Namely, why did he have to die at all?

It's a comedy show - a comedy show where not-really-deaths outnumber actual deaths by ten to one - why did Izzy have to die? Some of you are talking as if he died the way that people in real life die, like it's one of those things you just can't change. But this wasn't like that. This was a constructed narrative where a decision was made that not only should he be dead at the end of the series, but that it should be confirmed beyond all doubt with OFMD's only grave. Even the Badmintons weren't shown in their graves.

So why did Izzy have to die?

And why do so many of you find it fitting and appropriate that he died? This is a good opportunity to sit down with yourself and maybe examine your own thoughts around ageing and disability. Con O'Neill is in his 50s, not his 90s, and a missing limb is not some kind of down payment on death. The show even went out of its way to fit him with a new leg, breathe new life into him. So "he had to die because he was basically halfway out of the door" is rooted in some nasty ideas about ageing and disability, ideas which you should not allow to fester in yourself. Dig those out. If you're healthy and young, this might seem like a very remote issue to you. It won't always be.

David Jenkins has indicated in interviews that Izzy had to die because (1) he was Ed's 'mentor', a frankly baffling assertion which is contrary to nearly everything established about Ed and Izzy's relationship in the show, and (2) "it's a pirate show."

Okay! It's a pirate show. Seems fair at first.

Until you remember it's also a comedy show where guys turn into birds and people routinely survive explosions and gun shots and being stabbed through the liver on a regular basis. Throughout the narrative, OFMD has established and confirmed over and over and over again that it upholds the comedic law that death is never really death. You can relax seeing Roach fall from the rigging because it's a comedy show - they're not going to do that to you.

But then they did.

They reversed that fundamental law within the world just so that Izzy could die - and so that Izzy could just die. Nothing came of his death. It didn't open up a new section of plotline or change anything. The show could have ended with Izzy off on adventures with the crew he'd grown to love.

Instead he just died. And we're struggling to understand why.

Telling us that he got to be happy before he died doesn't make any sense. If it was all so beautiful and meaningful to see him experience temporary happiness, wouldn't it have been nice to see him happy ever after?

So why did the writers give him death instead?

We're scared that it's 2023 and some folks still think it's just fitting for visibly queer characters to be tantalised with happiness then struck down. We're scared that at the bottom of this, it makes sense to you that Izzy died because you think he was old and broken and no use to anyone now. We're scared to have discovered that even the show which said kindness, kindness, kindness right from the start had none for this character we loved, and we're scared that you find it so beautiful.

[madmonksandmaenads]

I have been pondering the Labyrinth, not as prison or as maze, but as the house grown to monstrous proportions. Rooms festering without purpose cancerous within winding corridors. Ornamentations of a forgotten past, functionaries without masters.

The Palace of Minos was one such Labryinth. Its walls swelled with the riches of an ancient kingdom. It was the life bed of a man doomed to be a judge of the dead. Life sheltering death. It grew from resplendent garden to a tangled morose due to the seed of stolen sacrifice. A bull from stygian depth denied its proper return. Life clinging to death. That seed flowered into an unquenchable appetite. Death undeniable within life.

A labyrinth is built from the inside out. Every room carved out, filled up, entombed. It expands layer upon layer with each generation within it. What is the labyrinth but the outward expression of the manifold desires of its inhabitants?

What if that inhabitant is a god? Sobek, great god of appetite, resided within his labyrinth kept company by his crocodiles, his cunning priesthood, and his fearful pilgrims. Appetite is a desire that requires growth and consumption in equal measure. Life and death in masturbatory cycle.

To the ancients the Palace of Minos, the Temple of Sobek, were baffling constructs. Buildings whose sheer size made them unnavigatable to the uninitiated. Would modern man find them so?

In this rat racing aeon; in this landscape of malls, offices, campus complexes; would the Labryinth even register as an oddity. We are already so familiar with the cancer spiral of death chasing life. It has built far larger palaces than any ancient Minoan can dream.

[gafurtle]

Let's talk about how similar ART & Miki are

Yes, ART is a super-intelligent space ship and Miki is a humanform bot that uses emojis in chat, but they actually have a lot in common.

It started when I was thinking about how both ART & Miki lay claim to friendship with MB long before it's willing to reciprocate--and in a manner MB finds inherently repulsive.

Like, ART threatens MB with its overpoweringly superior processing power, then they watch TV together, and then ART is like, "We're friends now. I don't understand why you won't let me help you," a sentiment MB responds to with the equivalent of "?!??!" because since when were they friends???

Meanwhile Miki IMMEDIATELY decides that it and MB are friends because Miki is friends with everyone--its humans, the random construct who starting talking to it out of nowhere...it's all the same to Miki (so far as MB knows). Again, this sentiment deeply bothers MB, as of course they aren't friends and could never be friends.

So that's the similarity I started with, but then I kept thinking.

ART & Miki both have a much different relationship with humans than MB has ever had. ART loves its crew and in fact, loves them so much that it can barely watch fictional media that depicts harm coming to space ships or their crew. ART at least knows that humans *can* be cruel, because it knows corporates, but I've never had the sense that ART itself has ever been mistreated by its crew or even forced to do something it doesn't want to do. Miki has never been mistreated or lied to by humans, and so has an inherent love and trust for humans. MB, of course, has always been ignored, feared, or tortured by humans and so resists the idea of humans being its "crew" or its "friends" the way ART & Miki claim is possible.

Also, ART & Miki both love their function. ART loves exploring space and protecting its crew, and finds it hard to believe that a construct like MB could dislike its function. Miki likes exploring and helping and hanging out with humans. MB is at best able to say that it likes "parts" of its functions. Of course, one difference is that MB agrees that ART's function is awesome, whereas MB thinks of Miki as just a "pet bot." But even so, ART & Miki both love their day jobs and MB is both baffled and jealous.

And of course, both ART & Miki end up betraying MB. When MB realizes that ART deliberately got it and its humans kidnapped, MB is furious and hurt and tries real hard to give ART the silent treatment. When Miki tells Don Abene that MB is "Rin," MB refuses to talk to Miki for the rest of their time together. ART & Miki both do the thing that MB is always afraid of--they let what the humans want or need take precedence and don't care what the effect on MB will be.

MB eventually forgives ART. Do we think it would have forgiven Miki, if they had had longer?

[easternmind]

The weird and wonderful history of Kowloon as a digital interactive space - Part I

The Kowloon Walled City was one of the most emblematic locations in Hong Kong due to its irregular, fast-paced and largely ungoverned growth within a minute parcel of land. During the occupation of Hong Kong Island by the British in the mid 18th century, the Qing authorities surrounded the area with walls, turning it into a strategic position from where to closely inspect the foreign nation's covert activities. Almost a century later, during World War II, the area was seized by the Japanese, who tore down the walls and repurposed the stone for the construction of a nearby airport.

After the war, China would eventually regain possession of the city, though the disinterest of local authorities in addressing its increasing social disturbances placed it in a downward path to a state of utter degradation. By the 1970s, Kowloon had become the epicentre of Hong Kong's criminal underworld, dominated by a handful of its most vicious Triads.

Towards the last years of its existence, the ancient settlement was as a precarious heap of concrete, sheltering nearly half a million people within less than seven acres of land. Cultural and political changes in China made it increasingly difficult for this urban anomaly to remain unaddressed. In the late 1980s, an action plan was put together aiming to relocate its inhabitants and reconvert the real estate into an inner-city park. Stories about residents refusing to leave their unsafe and unsanitary homes were featured prominently in newspapers, baffling readers all over the world. Once the single most densely populated area in the world, this enclave was an architectural aberration whose disconcerting aesthetic influenced numerous works of art in different fields of creation; including a small yet consequential number of video games that briefly reference or prominently feature this abominably transfixing space.

九龍島 (Kyu-Ryu-Tou) - Starcraft - 1986

The year is 2025. An arms dealer escalates the tensions between East and West by developing a genetic weapon in a secret base at Kowloon Island. The United Nations react by sending in their best man, Jamie Starr. Unrelated to the Walled City itself, the first game to be located in the Kowloon peninsula - and indeed include the name as a part of its title - is this obscure turn-based RPG, Kyu-Ryu-Tou for the NEC PC88 and FM-77 machines. The game is a sequel to Shangai, released the year before, featuring the same protagonist. Starcraft would also go on to produce a third instalment in 1987 named TO.KY.O. Clearly there wasn't much regard here from the developers part for geographic accuracy, as Kowloon is depicted here as being an island. While Hong Kong's southern territory is composed of an actual island, all the different areas named Kowloon are located in the mainland.

Riot City - Westone - 1991

One of the most shameless specimens among a relatively long list of Final Fight clones, Riot City contains subtle references to Kowloon, though never referring to it by name. Two narcotics detectives are assigned with the mission of dismantling a cartel running a crime-ridden located in fictional Riot Island. This recurring yet geographically nonsensical notion of Kowloon as an island comes up here, yet again. The final moment of the introduction sequence for this minor Sega arcade success shows both protagonists approaching a tight cluster of buildings whose source inspiration is quite unmistakable. Because Westone maintained ownership of most of this production's intellectual property, a later port to the PC Engine entitled Riot Zone was made possible with the help of Hudson soft. Kowloon's Gate - Zeque - 1997

Reviving the Walled City through the lens of cybermystic surrealism, Kowloon's Gate is a dense, daunting adventure masterfully capturing the slum's dark and narrow recesses. This 1997 Japanese Playstation exclusive spans across four discs of unparalleled full motion 3D CGI spectacle, alternating with real-time 3D dungeons brimming with outlandish characters and concepts deeply inspired by Chinese history, geography and cultural traditions.

Ironically, Zeque managed to embed the theme of Feng-Shui, the ancient geomantic art seeking harmony between the individual and their surrounding space, into a story set in the world's most historically untidy district.

SaGa Frontier - Square - 1997

SaGa Frontier takes place in a solar system named The Regions, composed of multiple inhabited worlds for the player to explore, each with its different degree of civilizational development and culture. One of these planets goes by the suggestive name Kūron. Its pervasive neon light signs, food stalls, makeshift cabins and rooftop scaffolding instantly evoke the memory of China’s so-called city of darkness.

Shadow Hearts - Sacnoth - 2001

Shortly after the release of Koudelka, Sacnoth's initiated the development of Shadow Hearts, the first episode from a cult RPG trilogy exclusively designed for the Playstation 2. In good Japanese fashion, the game proposes an anachronistic yet visually suggestive depiction of Kowloon, portraying its architectural style and degree of decay as it existed in the late twentieth century, despite the fact that the game's events take place during the nineteen twenties.

Just as noteworthy is the almost complete absence of any inhabitants, which inadvertently make this portrayal of the quarter eerily reminiscent of the state in which it was found circa 1993 or 1994, as local authorities brought the long, arduous eviction project to a close.

Shenmue II - SEGA AM2 - 2001

Shenmue II exhibits the most complete and period-accurate video game representation of Kowloon to date. While more recent games featuring this area may represent a number of its aspects with the aid of improved visual fidelity, none features it with such depth as this masterpiece of masterpieces. More than mere background decoration, Kowloon exists in the Shenmue series as a crucial, climacteric element of its modern epic narrative.

It is a well known fact that Yu Suzuki and his team conducted extensive research of the region so as to achieve a result that impresses even to this day. It must be noted, however, that they have similarly taken a fair share of creative liberty when converting the area to best align with the themes they wished to explore. Further reading is required for a more complete context in this regard, namely how this area ties with an early Dreamcast tech demo design which fans lovingly named Tower of Babel. Ostensively, technical limitations did curtail the degree of precision in which the surrounding area could be replicated. The aerial view from the cutscene in which Ryo Hazuki arrives on location places Kowloon at an imaginary degree of elevation over surrounding vegetation. In the year of 1987, during which the game is set, the actual enclave stood perfectly levelled with a myriad of other modern buildings, undoubtedly more than could be reproduced under the circumstances. These trifling considerations aside, Shenmue II entirely succeeds in capturing the vibrant life and mesmerizing beauty of the destitute and decayed urban agglomeration, in a way that it was deemed entirely impossible at the time of its release.

For reasons entirely related to per post content limitations imposed by Tumblr, this article will be continued in PART II.

[firstkanaphans]

I know this post is only for like two people, but I’m going to make it anyway. So, my obsession with Dead Friend Forever finally reached critical levels and I resorted to binge-watching The Hidden Character just to get more content. For those that don’t know, The Hidden Character (which they literally call “THC”) was the reality show Be On Cloud used to cast DFF. It is bad. Like really bad. And not in a it’s-so-bad-it’s-good-type way. It’s one of the most exploitative pieces of media I have ever watched. I walked into it with a favorable view of BOC, Mile, Apo, and Pond (the CEO), and walked out of it hating all of them.

A small collection of things that happened over the 11-episode run:

Everyone was told that they had to share every single aspect of their life with the viewers or they would be eliminated. And, in fact, the first person eliminated was told that it was because he wasn’t being open enough with the audience. They filmed these boys—one of whom was only seventeen at the time—talking explicitly about their sex lives. Which is, of course, fine to talk about. It’s not fine to air it on television! Even some of the games themselves contained sexually suggestive content (i.e. Which do you prefer "eating" with—your hands or your mouth? If you were to cheat on your significant other, would it be just sex or a full-blown affair?)

During the first part of the show, everyone had a secret that the other players were supposed to guess. One of the player’s secret was that he used to be homophobic. (Questionable casting for a company that only hires men, but I digress). He was praised for having changed his mind. In contrast, JJay’s secret was that he was raised in an abusive household and had once hit his father. Pond crucified the poor guy for this. He made him sit there in front of the whole cast sobbing and apologize for hitting his dad who was an abusive asshole.

After the first half of the show—which served absolutely no purpose at all—we finally move onto the acting portion. This is, after all, supposed to be a talent competition. The judges were so mean. Especially Apo. He was like the Simon Cowell of BOC. There was no constructive component to their criticism. The fact that any of these people are still acting is honestly unbelievable. I would have gone home and cried myself to sleep and then never stepped foot on a stage again.

At one point, each of the groups was assigned a scene from KinnPorsche to act out (because BOC very clearly owns no other IP). One of the pairs was given the scene where Porsche gives Kinn a handjob in the bathroom. I wish I was kidding. 

The judges constantly told the contestants to make their scenes feel new and different but any time the actors actually tried to change anything, they complained it was “too” different and the original script was already perfect so who were they to think they could create something better. Once again, Apo and Mile, the original actors of these scenes, are the ones judging them! Like of course they like their version better. What is even happening??

And finally, the whole fucking thing was rigged for Ta to win. Like don’t get me wrong, I love Ta and I think he did a great job, but he was the only one who came into that competition with a built-in fanbase and the winner was chosen by popular vote.

It was all just…baffling. Especially from a company that claims to be trying to change the industry. Like if you want the industry to stop being so exploitative to its actors, maybe start with yourself? It also makes those condescending “how dare you watch our shows just for the NC scenes” press releases they do every week even more annoying.

I have no clue what the reaction to this show was while it was airing but god I hope they never do it again. It literally makes me feel so weird watching DFF now. I feel like those poor kids are being held hostage. Maybe CEO Pond’s been the one under the mask the whole time 🔪

[winged-void]

Here's the story yall asked me to post

Hello! I am posting this short little story, which is the first of a number of short stories I have written about these two characters, a delusional noblewoman and her deranged maid. By clicking the readmore you agree that both characters contained within, regardless of what the text says, are girls.

In some forgotten corner of some forgotten city, a forgotten noble of a forgotten family sits in petty agony. 

Protected from the onslaught of acidic rain only by a hastily constructed sheet metal roof, he imagines Mother's pain at the tears in his coat, and the scion of the Branche family considers weeping. 

What would it cost? 

Too much. 

Elan Branche pushes it down. At twelve, one puts such childishness behind them. 

Back straight. Assess the damage. Find the solution. 

The coat was heavy. Too large, and far too decorated with old and meaningless signifiers of unearned and forgotten glory, weighed down further still by the damp of rain and blood (hidden at least by the deep red color of the fabric), he takes it off and hangs it on a bit of exposed rebar. 

It was old and beautiful; burgundy and torn to shreds. The sleeves and the tail had cuts and rips that Elan knew he could never fix. He thought of a picture he'd found of the family's old staff, and the dedicated tailor among them. All gone now, gone since before his birth. This burden, like all before it, must be borne alone. 

Put it out of mind for now. 

He turned away from the coat to inspect his blade. Sharpening the noble edge sharpens the noble mind, he thought, and began to clean. His adventures to these parts were proving more expensive than he thought, but the rabble must know the Branche Family. Their petty vassals and pettier commoners had forgotten and darkness had come to them. 

By sword and torch and pistol he would bring light and flame back. He would polish the old blazonry with the blood of those foolish and cruel enough to have taken advantage of the weakness of his family. No longer would commoner merchant thugs an-

Hold. A sound. 

Elan jumped and turned, blade pointed at his empty coat, hanged and swinging in the breeze. 

Foolish. Too easily startled. Undignified. Waving your sword around at an empty coat. 

But then another sound, like the whimper of a kicked dog. 

“N-Nothing gets by you, milord….”

A hunched and crouching pathetic figure emerged from behind the rebar, raising its hands, but holding onto what seemed to be an especially short thin piece of scrap metal, bent at the end such that a thread could pass through it. 

Elan's mind raced. First, relief, then recognition. Figure was a boy. No older than thirteen or fourteen. Thin, so thin, tall and dressed in rags. 

“You. You're that kid from the other day. The mugging victim, yes?”

Wasn't that mugging four towns over? 

He left it unsaid. He continued. 

“What are you doing with my coat?”

The figure squirmed, and tried to stand up straight. 

“I-I-I saw. The state of your coat. And I thought I might be useful, milord…” It paused, and jumped as though shocked, “My lord.”

It gestured towards the left sleeve, and Elan's eyes traced the crimson thread from the needle in its scarred hand to the sleeve of the coat, partially sewed with baffling skill. 

Elan considered the boy. His hair gray (common in these chemically stained regions), his form clearly starved, his body shaking but his hands so very steady. 

Potential and possibility, all of it. Solutions to problems named and those he refused to name. 

“How useful,” Elan lowered his sword and allowed himself to smile, “would you like to be?”

[imsuperhungry]

lust (yandere! ocs x reader)

Y'know, being perceived as innocent has its perks sometimes...

Take the present moment as an example: no one is even considering the possibility that you might be guilty. Your façade is so convincing that, despite any underlying doubts or suspicions, everyone remains completely assured of your innocence. They see only the mask you've meticulously crafted, unaware of the inner conflict and hidden truths you grapple with.

You were seen as a guardian angel in your small community, always helping the elderly, spreading kind smiles, and supporting the local bakeries.  Your unwavering dedication to lending a hand and brightening others' days earned you deep respect and affection

People adored you. You were greeted with smiles, waves, and hugs, and even received flowers! Your sweetness was renowned—how you consistently prioritized others' needs over your own, and how you maintained your kindness even in the face of the most difficult and unpleasant individuals.

But it was all just a façade, a persona you had to construct to endure. They were oblivious to how you rolled your eyes and discarded the flowers without a second thought. They didn't see the revulsion in your gaze whenever someone touched you, nor did they notice how your eyes constantly scanned the surroundings after you fed, vigilant to ensure no one could ever accuse you.

But you were the one responsible for it all—the blood, the bite marks, the slashes, the guts scattered everywhere. Every gruesome detail, every wound, every drop of spilled blood traces back to you, the horror in those eyes, the silent screams echoing in the void—it's all because of you.

But you can't be blamed. This was something you had to do, just as humans must eat to survive—you needed to feed, too. It was an instinct, a necessity that drove you, something beyond your control. The hunger inside you demanded it, pushing you to act, to hunt, to consume. Survival, after all, is a primal force, and you were merely following the path laid out for you, no different from any other creature driven by the need to sustain itself.

Sure, eating people wasn't exactly socially acceptable, but who was going to stop you? You were powerful, and you knew it. The rules of society meant nothing when you held all the power, and with every ounce of strength you possessed, you could defy them all. 

You could easily brush off any accusations thrown your way, thanks to the unfortunate reality of pretty privilege.

Humans were strange—why did appearances matter so much to them? It was baffling how they placed so much value on something so superficial, letting looks dictate their judgments and actions. Their obsession with outward beauty seemed shallow, yet it wielded an inexplicable power over their decisions and perceptions, this benefited you majorly.

You were considered the most beautiful girl wherever you went, with an irresistible aura that trailed you everywhere. Your presence turned heads and captivated attention, drawing admiration and envy alike. It was as if your beauty commanded a magnetic pull, making you the center of fascination and desire in every room you entered.

But underneath it all, you were a flesh-eating plague. You were a menace, the very embodiment of "evil." Your mesmerizing appearance only concealed a deep-seated darkness, a relentless malevolence that left chaos and despair in its wake.

The reflection in the mirror bore no resemblance to the soul within. But it didn't matter; they were unaware of the truth.

With a giggle, you left the police station, fully certain you wouldn't be caught. The bite marks on him were as brutal as a bear's mauling. deep and savage, a clear sign of something far more sinister than a simple attack. Still, as his "friend", you had to field a few questions.

You'd be satiated for the next few days, or even weeks. Given his larger size, there was plenty to sustain you. The ample supply would give you time to lay low and avoid drawing any unwanted attention, ensuring you could enjoy a period of relative peace before needing to hunt again.

As you stroll down the road, you notice the air has grown colder; summer nights here always bring a chill. The temperature has plummeted, with the cool air seeping through your clothes and nipping at your skin. It feels like a sharp, invisible edge grazing against you, making each breath visible in the dim light. The chill is persistent, wrapping around you like a thin layer of frost, and the once-warm evening now carries a biting, invigorating crispness that makes you shiver slightly and wish for the comfort of a warmer layer, this annoyed you.

The only sounds breaking the silence were the rush of cars speeding past on the adjacent road and the rhythmic click of your black, sleek heels. The steady clack against the pavement seemed almost musical, contrasting with the distant hum of engines. Each step you took reverberated through the quiet night, the sharp sounds slicing through the stillness and amplifying the solitude of the evening.

Then you started to ponder what you'd do once you got home. You realized you desperately needed a pedicure—it had been quite a while. Besides that, you also needed to catch up on some reading, tidy up the clutter that had accumulated over the week, and perhaps unwind with a hot bath to ease the day's stress. 

Lost in thought, you didn't notice the man lurking behind you. He moved cautiously, taking care to stay as silent as possible as he approached. His footsteps were barely audible, and the shadows seemed to cloak his presence, making him nearly invisible in the dim light. Each step was calculated, his breath held in anticipation as he closed the distance, intent on remaining undetected.

But men are all idiots.

He accidentally tripped over his own shoe, and with a clumsy lurch, he fell hard onto the cement pavement. His body hit the ground with a resounding 'Smack!', the sound echoing sharply in the night. He sprawled out, arms flailing as he lost his balance.

You jolted back to reality and spun around swiftly, only to find a man sprawled on the ground with his right cheek pressed against the pavement.

You immediately connected the dots. At first, you were irritated—someone had been trailing you for God knows how long. But as the realization sank in, your annoyance quickly turned into a smirk.

You suddenly realized what you were going to do with him. A plan took shape in your mind, one that would make use of this unexpected opportunity. The situation had shifted in your favor, and you saw a chance to turn the tables, ensuring that this intrusion wouldn't go unpunished...

[unsoundedcomic]

Oh good jebus, where did that nipple thorn poke Sette? Subversive horror to all those mommy milkers suckler fans out there. It's like she makes the defining characteristic of mammals that is meant for nurture into something that can murder. Does bird lady hate human reproduction that much? Or is it just something that is part of her design that she appreciates?

I think... one can look at Lady Ilganyag - and all the senet beasts, in some way - as attempts by a third party to reverse engineer humans. If utterly alien gods saw Homo sapiens and all their baffling physical characteristics and behaviours, and then wanted to grow their own, they might use a test bed of senet constructs to first try and work out the human concepts they'd recorded in their notes.

Unfathomably long millennia later, some of those senet beasts still exist. Measured against the successfully grown humans, how nightmarish and wrong they do indeed appear.

But the initial, only partially understood concepts are still there within them, unrealised and painfully unsuccessful. For all their power, the senet beasts are pretty tragic things. Lady Ilganyag is a primo example of this. She's a maternal creature who was not properly designed to be a mother. She was built for a function she can only superficially perform, often doing more harm than good in her effort to ape a role her designer only had a vague understanding of. Like a Tesla cybertruck.

Lady Ilganyag doesn't appreciate or not appreciate her design. It's simply what she is. She has to act within its constraints, and according to the inscrutable perspective from which she observes current reality. We might interpret her behaviours according to our human standards - by, for instance, presuming she hates reproduction - but that might not be her perspective on the matter at all.