Regardless if you liked or disliked the movie (I personally loved it, honestly a solid 8.5/10), we can ALL agree the anti spoiler message at the beginning was PEAK
This is Good Bi Gender. A comic I made to express some feelings I have about my gender. I don’t really have that much else to say about it. Here it is.
[Image Description: A digital comic made with sharp, angular abstract lines and only the colors white, blue, pink, and black. The featured character is all white, except for facial features and hair colors, which changes from panel to panel. The comic reads: Cover Panel: The text “Good Bi Gender”, the words colored with the trans flag. It shows a glitchy person’s face, half pink and half blue. Panel 1: White text reads: “Hello. My name is apparently irrelevant. And my pronouns are he/him and she/her. But you can’t call me she/her. And here’s why.” Someone with a half-pink and half-blue shirt looks to the side. One eye is covered with hair, and the other eye is pink while the iris is blue.
Panel 2: The character sits happily, imagining facial hair and a masculine voice. “I don’t want top surgery. I love my chest. And I dream about being on testosterone someday soon.” The character looks at a phone, frowning. The phone shows the male symbol with an “X” through it. Text next to it reads: “People don’t seem to think that the features I dream of are very pretty though… Or they think even worse of them than that…”
Panel 3: The character’s features are all pink, and sits in a blank frame. The character reaches over to a blue frame, frowning. “I don’t like the animosity. I really despise it.” A photo of the character shows an all-blue frame and blue hair, with pink outlines and facial features. “To be a boy… I aspire to be one. I aspire to be masculine in all its handsomeness. All its prettiness.” Panel 4: The character sits in an all blue panel, but reaches back out to the pink panel. “And I’m still a girl too. I was so excited to have both. To love both. To have handsome femininity. Beautiful masculinity.” The frames break and connect, and pink and blue swirl together. The character smiles in between the frames, with one pink eye and one blue eye. “So excited. And yet I get asked…”
Panel 5: Two hands hold out two different pills to the character, one blue and one pink. They ask “Male? or Female?” using the male and female symbols.The character, facial features an array of pink and blue, looks between the two hands, distressed. “It’s both! I’m both! They’re not opposites. Not narrow boxes. I say I’m both despite the insistence that I can’t be. And I know what I look like. I know I look like a girl to most. I know that if I say people can call me she, that’s all I will get from most. Because it’s “easier”. It “makes more sense”. To have my masculinity, I am often forced to be unflinching in it and it alone. To never use she. Because if I don’t, I will never get to have he.” [The words “she” and “he” are italicized.] Panel 6: Text reads: “I’m still very happy to be so comfortable in my identity. To know, despite all that, that I am indeed a boy and a girl and both. But you know. Telling people to only use he/him for me. Guarding my masculinity all just to have it. All at the expense of the part of me who is happily and unashamedly a girl.” The character cries from one pink eye, the other hidden. The character holds a pink girl in a sea of blue, the girl crying out. In the midst of the blue, text reads: “Well, it fucking breaks her heart.” End ID]
Edit: @starberry-skies wrote an ID for the comic, so I added it to the og post with its permission!
ikr it really is beautiful isnt it!?!?!? this is a comic from my close friend @drill-teeth-art i REALLY recommend anyone who likes this comic to check out her other work everything he does is super cool im obsessed with his character designs personally
The awkward family dinner as someone had called it.
Hm, imagine a slightly altered route where instead of literally everything else that transpired after, The Prototype decides “ Yeah, let's play house. ” and proceeds to just continue on with the tea party or something 😭
I mean, he had been playing cat and mouse for a while now, think of it as a small reward for Lily.
Bad Blood
Note || most awkward, most tense and harsh situation if I’ve seen one. Honestly it’s hilarious lol, the prototype deciding not to do what he did originally and just proceeds with the tea party like Lily originally intentioned? Let’s get a lil funky with this one folks. Reader is described to be a teenager here for the sake of the alt route I feel.
Characters [The Prototype, Lily Lovebraids, Kissy Missy and Poppy]
The dining hall—dashed by the brilliant purple carpentry and stained wallpaper—is warm.
Not warm like the vents or the red smoke chambers. Not the suffocating heat of machinery or the stale breath of the factory.
Warm like candlelight.
You sit stiffly in a high-backed chair that is far too ornate for comfort, wrists loosely wrapped in violet braids that hum faintly with Lily’s restless energy. Across the long table, mismatched porcelain cups tremble on saucers painted with smiling suns. A lace cloth spills over the edges like a waterfall of white.
At the head of the table stands Lily Lovebraids — tan porcelain face split in a too-wide grin, braids coiled like watchful serpents behind her.
And tonight… no one is screaming.
A tremor runs through the wall and bricks part as if peeled back by invisible claws.
He enters without haste.
The Prototype lowers himself into the space like a descending god — spidered metal limbs folding with elegant precision, porcelain jester face tilted in permanent amusement. His orange pupil flickers once, assessing.
You expect violence.
You expect Poppy to shout.
You expect Kissy to strain against her bonds.
Instead—Lily claps her hands, braids fluttering. “He came! He came! Special guest came!”
Her excitement is so raw, so desperate, that even you hesitate.
The Prototype’s gaze shifts to her.
Not sharp, not irritated.
Considering.
Across from you, Poppy Playtime sits bound but upright, cracked porcelain cheek catching candlelight. Her eyes narrow, wary but silent.
Beside her, Kissy Missy watches with protective tension, one arm braced against the table.
The Prototype does not reach for Poppy.
He does not threaten.
He simply lowers one long claw and gently adjusts a teacup that’s slightly off-center.
“Presentation,” he murmurs — and the voice shifts halfway through the word, layering over itself in soft mechanical harmony. “Is important.”
Lily freezes.
Then beams, “you like it?” she whispers, leaning forward.
A pause, his glowing eye narrows just slightly.
“For you,” he says evenly, “I will stay.”
The air changes.
Not with terror, with disbelief.
Lily’s braids unwind from your wrists, loosening completely as she darts around the table to pour imaginary tea into his cup. Nothing spills. She hums tunelessly, glancing at him every few seconds for approval.
You flex your fingers. Free.
Kissy notices. She says nothing, as if she really could — but her posture eases by a fraction.
Poppy studies him carefully. Waiting for the twist. The trap.
It doesn’t come.
The Prototype lifts the porcelain cup between two claws far too large for it, careful — impossibly careful — not to crack it.
He tilts his head at Lily.
“You arranged the guests properly.”
Her eyes shine, “I did? I did! I told Candy we had to make it perfect!”
She raises the Candy Cat head and whispers something to it. The moment would be unsettling if not for the fragile sincerity in her voice.
The Prototype’s spider legs shift slightly, metal settling against marble.
“Tell me,” he says — and for once, he is not mocking — “what is the theme?”
Lily gasps.
“You don’t know?! It’s ‘Best Toys in the Whole Wide Factory’ day!”
She gestures at you enthusiastically, “And they’re a toy too! They just don’t know it yet!”
You stiffen as The Prototype’s gaze drifts to you, its calculation there. Always calculation, it only makes you shiver.
But tonight… it softens into something unreadable.
“Yes,” he says after a moment. “An honorary position.”
Poppy’s jaw tightens, “Don’t play along with her delusions,” she snaps.
The Prototype doesn’t look at her.
“I am not,” he replies calmly. “I am rewarding initiative.”
Lily nearly vibrates out of her boots.
He turns slightly, addressing the table as though presiding over something sacred rather than absurd.
“A tea party,” he says, “is a demonstration of order. Civility. Structure.”
His claws fold neatly before him.
“Qualities this factory once pretended to value.”
The words carry no immediate threat — only cold truth. Lily nods vigorously, as if she understands all of it.
You glance at Kissy. She gives you a small, cautious nod — stay still. Let it happen.
So you do.
You lift a teacup, and pretend to sip. Of course, the porcelain tastes like dust and candle smoke.
Across the table, Poppy watches him — suspicion burning behind cracked glass eyes — but even she doesn’t interrupt.
For once, he is not crushing.
Not commanding.
Not tearing.
He listens.
Lily chatters about table settings and how long she practiced braiding the napkins. She recounts how she made sure the “special guest” chair was tallest. She laughs too loudly at her own jokes.
And each time she looks to him —
He answers, briefly. Within measure
But present.
Minutes pass and there’s no signal of red smoke, nor are there signs and sounds of shattered porcelain.
Just the faint clink of cups and Lily’s delighted humming.
Eventually, she settles into her seat, braids coiling lazily around chair legs.
“This,” she sighs dreamily, “is the best tea party ever.”
The Prototype studies her for a long, silent beat.
Then he inclines his head.
“You executed it efficiently,” he says.
High praise, from him.
Lily’s grin softens into something smaller. Something almost human.
Across the table, Kissy exhales quietly. Poppy looks conflicted — furious, confused, wounded.
And you sit there, heart still racing, realizing something impossible: For one fragile hour inside a ruined factory of monsters—There is no violence.
Only porcelain cups.
Only candlelight.
Only a girl who wanted approval.
And a creature who, just this once, chose to give it.
Something I haven't seen people people talk about that I really enjoyed was that the direct was presented as someone just making up ocs as they go along. "So uh there's this college student, and this is her childhood teddy bear, and this is her professor who loves *takes random paper from a hat* monster trucks, and this is the sexy clown." It's all very whimsical
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