#i think it would have fleshed out her character more too

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I will never understand people who want female characters in the game, you know why the game only has boys, the game is for the female target audience, there are several games with only girls

[Referencing this post!]

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with wanting to see more women in Twst in general! You’d expect it, wouldn’t you…? Maybe not at NRC, but with the students so often going abroad or into Foothill Town or meeting with their family members, they’d surely run into women at some point or another. It makes the world feel more fleshed out when these women are actually give unique designs and characters, as we see with some siblings, parents, and grandparents.

However, these women would likely not become playable because Twst is presented as a story exploring relationships between men and the primary setting is an all-boys magic school. Outsiders can’t even come onto NRC campus without authorization because of its magic barrier. Twst is also aiming for a certain target demographic, and while women can also enjoy women, it’s just not the direction the devs have decided to go with. It hasn’t chosen to be a mixed gender gacha game from the get-go, so expecting or demanding it of the devs isn’t the way to go; no expectation of a playable mixed gender roster has been set for Twst.

I don’t think anyone is calling for an all-girls game, but I have seen complaints that there’s no all-girls magic school mentioned, only all-boys ones as far as I am aware. It creates the impression that magic and elite schools are only for men, but I don’t think that’s the intention of the game?? It feels like a limitation due to the format and assets (like how the game only shows beastmen students in Savanaclaw when the manga and anime show beastmen in all the dorms). With the franchise being so centered on appealing to women, many of whom are yumejoshi (self-shippers) or are fujoshi (enjoyers of men loving men), introducing an all-girls school may cause tension with ships the fans have. The mere PRESENCE of a girl has caused waves in fandoms before, even if the girl just exists and doesn’t do or say anything flirty. (See: Obey Me fandom when Thirteen was announced; some fans felt threatened that she would “steal” the boys away.) Maybe Twst wants to avoid that…? Granted, OM is a dating sim/romantic in nature and Twst isn’t, so the reaction may not be the same.

I want to point out men do this too, even for games that aren’t romantic or dating sims. When Granblue Fantasy did a collab with Love Live, they eliminated all men from the event story except for the player character so as to not have any men BUT the player interacting with the Love Live idol girls.

In any case, I’m sure that all-girls magic schools exist in Twst, but just are not mentioned or explored in order to not infringe on this large aspect of the fandom. This is probably also why no NRC staff are women, even though one-gender schools irl typically don’t insist the staff match that gender as well (as this would be gender discrimination). Again, it’s not Twst’s focus. Just because Twst doesn’t call attention to it doesn’t mean it isn’t real or that it never happened. (If that were the case, then we’d assume silly things like the characters not showering is true even though they must clearly all clean themselves off-screen.)

Sometimes I wonder what would happen if Twst introduced more women characters that weren’t family members or ineligible NPCs (like the Ghost Bride/Eliza) 💦 What would happen if Twst gave us a cute girl around the NRC students’ age that frequently interacts with the main cast of boys? Like… would there be vitriol towards her from the shippers?? Would she be seen as “competition”???

And, interestingly, Yuus are an exception to this because they are seen as a proxy for players (who are largely feminine-presenting women) who self insert and project onto them. Fans liked when Yuuka Hirasaka (Episode of Savanaclaw manga Yuu) “canonized” girl Yuus, and they LOVED Yuuna Oujou (Episode of Scarabia manga Yuu) for “canonizing” outright feminine Yuus because they validate femme fans’ identities.

I find the fandom reaction to Yuuna (whom I adore) especially fascinating because I think it actually highlights some issues with the expectations we have for women and how we perceive the same relationships entirely differently just by swapping out a femme!Yuu for a masc!Yuu. I would recommend reading this post by Kallisto; I found it so enlightening and it made me see this matter from a whole new perspective.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

There have been a number of fans that say that ML should have been given a rogues gallery but if this is how they're gonna do it it feels too little too late and also looks like it'll be riddled with retcons if they can't pick what they want Nathalie to be. I know you said this might be them doing the whole "Marinette is wrong" thing but I am also wondering, if they do go with "Nathalie was evil and a liar all along," if this is some sort of convoluted plot to take the heat off of Marinette, since people have been angry about her for lying and telling Nathalie to keep the secret, they could just claim (cause I can already see some Marinette stans doing this) that it was reverse psychology on Nathalie's part and she tricked Marinette somehow

Season six is basically the season of too little too late in my eyes. It's doing a lot of nice surface-level things like fleshing out the wider cast, but I don't care because it's season six. I know it's a soft reboot, but this still feels like amature hour. A soft reboot doesn't absolve you of the need to set things up in previous seasons. Nathalie suddenly having a supervillain dad is just silly and I'm still annoyed that Lila's character has no substance. She's been here since season one! She's not a new character just because they redesigned her and changed her name. We should know her motivations!

I can't even turn off my brain and play along with this being a new show - which is what soft reboots want you to do - because the weight of all the previous bad writing is still pretty in your face. If they wanted people to treat this as a fresh start, then the Adrien lies should never have been a thing. At the very least, they shouldn't have come from Marinette. It's too strong a tie to the first five seasons.

I got another ask guessing that the lies might end up being played as reverse psychology and I maintain that I would be very surprised if canon went there. I don't see them making Nathalie evil again after Werepapas and all of season five. Her redemption was laughably bad, but the writers did dedicate a whole season to her being a good guy now even if she was good in name only. Reverting her now would be sloppy even for this show.

If they do something to absolve Marinette of blame, I'd expect it to be a reveal that Gabriel's wish is secretly making her lie. They could also have Adrien find out and immediately decide that he doesn't want to know so he erases his memory after saying Marinette was correct to keep this from him.

I have no idea if they'll do either of those things though. The season six lies plot has been baffling and exhausting so far, but that's hardly surprising. It's perfectly in line with how they wrote:

Chloe's "damnation"

Felix's "redemption"

Everything with Lila

Gabriel's "redemption"

Andre's "redemption"

Everything to do with the sentikids

Feligami

The weird Adrigami arranged marriage plot

And probably more things that I can't think of right now.

[highfantasy-soul]

I guess hot take for some, but I like that we don't get a hint of Jyn Erso in Andor. The whole point is that they have no idea what's the big info they need to take down the rebellion. There are so many Imps doing so many things and Ghorman is the focus even though they don't even know why the Empire wants it.

It's just an energy program. What's the threat there? It's purposefully been kept under tight wraps. The CLIMAX of Andor is figuring out Galen Erso is important. If we had sprinkled Jyn in there, there would be no impact when Galen's name is dropped.

This isn't Jyn's story. That's Rogue One and Rebel Rising.

Andor is the story of Cassian and the path to build the Rebel Resistance as we see it in Rogue One and the OG trilogy.

They already had way too little time to flesh any of that out, adding Jyn to the mix would have made it even more bare bones than it was already.

I'd love to see a live action of Rebel Rising, but that's just it: we know Jyn's origins - we even saw a good bit of it in Rogue One. We DIDN'T know Cassian's or the OG rebellion's origins and Tony's wheelhouse is talking about the nitty gritty of rebellions.

Once Jyn leaves Saw, that's a different type of story. One that needs to be told, but that doesn't have to be at the expense of another (very, very prescient) story.

Idk, I don't think Andor 'makes it clear Tony Gilroy hates Jyn'. I don't think Andor hurt Jyn's character or Cassian's connection to her. I think sometimes, people live full lives independently of one another and come together at the right moment and that connection is just as important as knowing someone for a long time

[guardian-of-time-if]

Guardian of Time FAQ

Hello readers! I've assembled this list of frequently asked questions which also includes some questions that don't get asked a lot but I still want to make clear.

Why is MC genderlocked/Will you consider making MC gender selectable?

I will not be making MC gender selectable. I know this is disappointing for a lot of people, but there are several reasons why I am set on this, so if playing a F!MC is a deal breaker, I hope you can find another game you enjoy. My reasons for genderlocking MC are a mix between technical, personal preference, and vision/plot/worldbuilding. Technically speaking, since this is my first game, I didn't want to make myself overwhelmed, so one of the ways I tried to limit the scope of the game is by keeping MC genderlocked. Preferencewise, I just wanted to write a story that was a female MC romancing men. In terms of plot and vision, I dont think the story would work with a gender selectable MC. Primarily because the emperor would never propose a marriage between MC and his son if MC was male as Nytheris doesn't have legal same sex marriage. While it may not seem like a big deal to take away the arranged marriage and have MC adopted outright or intergrated into the imperial family some other way, the coming chapters will have a lot of plot points that depend on the arranged marriage aspect. (And I couldn't just gender swap Lukyan because I'd also have to gender swap Tzesar and it would change a lot of the politics withing the imperial family.) I also wanted one of the themes of the story to be about angency, and have MC wrestle with how much control she really has over her own life. It's part of why the early chapters have a lot of other people making her deicisons for her. Due to how gendered Nytherian society is, I thought this theme was better explored with a female character. So those are my reasons, and I hope this is a good enough explaination of why I'm unwilling to budge on this.

2. Will you consider adding a female RO/making the RO's gender selectable?

The short answer is no. For the gender selectable issue in particular, I don't like gender selectable characters in IF, I know a lot of authors/readers prefer them, but I've always felt that characters with set genders are more fleshed out. I also don't want to deal with coding gender selectable characters. But this really comes down to, as I said above, I really wanted my first story to be a FMC with male RO's. I know that's not for everybody and I'm okay with that.

3. Do I have to romance anyone?

No, you don't. I'm still deciding how the nonromance route will look, but most likely when the other MC's get an RO scene, you'll get a friendhsip scene with Mercy instead.

4. What is your ask policy?

In gerneral, just be respectful. Thankfully, this hasn't really been a problem thus far. I do my best to answer every ask as soon as I can. Currently, my queue is set to release five asks a day and is backed up an entire week. The only things that I may refuse to answer are code diving questions or NSFW. If you have a question about the code, I'd prefer you DM me, there are a lot of details in the code, that I don't want to be public yet, and in some cases, it's organized in a way that will only make sense in my brain, and no one else's. Sometimes if something is vague enough, or I want to make sure it's clear, I will answer them, but in general, I probably won't. As for NSFW, my relationship with these is complicated. Mild/nonexplicit is probably okay, but nothing too detailed or explicit (such as asking about specific kinks). I know that's really vague, but in general, please just use your best judgement. If I find too many asks are crossing my boundaries, I'll switch to a blanket no NSFW policy, but so far you've all been very respectful, so I'm willing to take it ask by ask for now. If an NSFW question makes me too uncomfortable, I'll just delete it. As a side note, any NSWF content in the book will be fade to black. I'm just not comfortable writing smut.

5. Will we get to see Oren and Samira again?

All I'm willing to say on this is that you will get to see one of them again.

I reserve the right to update as nessecary. (If there's any question you all think you be added to the FAQ please let me know. These are just the only questions I can think of being asked frequently.)

P.S. I am going to start working on some RO profiles, and once they are done I'll link them here, and in the intro post.

[justafewberries]

Lenore Dove is the dead wife in the montage, and she should have died in the jail. From the moment we leave District Twelve, she exists predominately outside of the narrative, and only through Haymitch's memory. Consequentially, she's dead the moment we leave 12, just like a dead-wife montage.

The whole pre-reaping scene reads like a dead wife montage. He colors her with vibrancy. He tells us about how smart she is, how she seems to know everything there is to know, and he just listens because he loves her so much. It makes sense. Haymitch spends his time from the train onward mourning her like he has already lost her. In a sense, he has. He is convinced he will never see her again, and, in turn, his conviction transforms his girl into a haunting, guiding-force- the dead wife archetype.

Which would make it all the more devastating if the dead wife never came back to life.

When reading SOTR, I was convinced the call in the study would be their final words together. In The Raven, the narrator calls out to his beloved and receives no answer:

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?” This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”— Merely this and nothing more.

Which already parallels the line at the end of the call:

But I'm trying to be noble, to, pull myself up to say those words, when the line goes dead without warning. "Lenore Dove? Lenore Dove?" She's gone. Truly for good, this time.

An auditory final goodbye would have paralleled the Raven, but it also would have lent itself to more hallucinations. Haymitch could have come to believe he hallucinated the call. He could have blamed Plutarch for setting him up, and under the context of Lou Lou, he could have believed they just mixed her voice or had someone else on the other line.

He would have never gotten a real, genuine, final goodbye with his girl, which lends itself to his reclusive life in the trilogy. Especially because he breaks his phone in his victor's house and Effie is the one to have it fixed twenty-five years later. Maybe he hallucinates his phone ringing only to pick it up for a dead tone, and it drives him mad to the point of destruction. Maybe it is Snow calling just to listen to him grieving his girl, thinking maybe, just maybe, he'll hear her voice again.

Further, prior to the call, Haymitch bragged about selling alcohol to the commander of the d12 peacekeepers in his interview while she was in custody. While we do not know if it aired, word of mouth on gossip that flammable was bound to spread to the commander's higher ups. The commander, seeking to punish Haymitch, could have brought the gavel down on Lenore Dove and, in his corruption, made an example out of her. It would send the message of I can break the law, but you cannot. The peacekeepers are above the law. We choose if you live.

Because the interview happened right before the call, I was under the impression news just had not gotten back to the commander by then. Or, if it had, Lenore Dove was trying to comfort Haymitch by relaying her position optimistically. Yet, it seemed there were no actual consequences for his admission.

It would have been even more all the more devastating for Haymitch to lose his girl as a direct result to his attempted submission. He knew he had to put on a show. He gave them what they wanted- a troublemaker, and even while doing what he had to do, playing the game, they still punished him. It's the convince me line of Catching Fire all over again. Through attempting to convince everyone he is a rascal, he hurts the girl he loves most by making an off-hand, truthful comment.

Haymitch would have to live with the fact speaking up was what got her killed for the rest of his life. And Snow can still have a hand in it. Music is illegal. She was playing music. Crack down on laws that were previously forgotten, and it forces people to submit by getting back in line.

By making an example out of her, the Capitol can then justify anything via digging up laws and making up new punishments. There are no laws, because everything suddenly becomes law when it is needed. There is nothing to stop the Capitol from writing a freshly inked date of the past, pointing to it, and saying "Look, this has always been the law." There is no regulating body to stop this, either. They would have the choice of rebellion or conformity.

District Twelve would then have more of a reason to stay in line and conform, like how we see in the trilogy. It would be the pinpoint behind the characterization of why they are afraid to rebel in the first place. It sets up the idea that for years, they were afraid of breaking long forgotten laws, and thereby developed a keep your head down culture to save their own necks.

Lenore Dove should've been a multifaceted political execution. She was the dead wife trope.

[sluckythewizard]

'I wont cry for you, I wont crucify the things you do. I wont cry for you, see, when you're gone, I'll still be BLOODY MARY'

[nenoname]

.....ok it's legit wild to see people saying that emma may is unironically their fave character

[catcatb0y]

Every time Helluva Boss or Hazbin Hotel has a glimpse of genuinely GOOD WRITING, I go insane. Both of these shows feel like edging to me, like they will tease me with these bangers and then leave me to dry EVERY DAMN TIME.

[automatic-midnight]

My biased, really unpopular take is that I think rit/su/maya is an objectively boring ship.

[tvrningout-a]

i'm grabbing y'all by the face and telling y'all that the alternate version of jorogumo is gonna be chiyo's mom and it's gonna be angsty as heck bc chiyo never got to know her mom and her mom never got to know her and : ))))) it's a very weird and uncomfy situation when they meet before it's actually kinda healing. but first i gotta brainstorm and develop her momma a lil more and find a fc... if anyone has suggestions, i'll take 'em uvu

[arolesbianism]

Returning to the nugget brainstorming grind. My bald girlie I've had since forever is finally getting her well deserved lore 🎉🎉🎉

[radrobotz]

i have a million things to do for uay universe but how many of them am i going to do imagining everything in my head is enrichment enough for me so sometimes i forget

[ectoplasmer]

finished (or at least got through part of the epilogue party in) bg3 today and ough. i’m going to be tormented by thoughts of post canon inula and astarion aren’t i

[yandere-romanticaa]

Seen the request, so I shall deliver. Could you pls write a drabble or hcs of a yandere sunday with an isekaied reader?

Good timing because I'm actually planning a non yan isekai fic for him, I wonder if you saw that post. Here it is in case you haven't.

Sincerest apologies if this isn't the best, this fic is 100% emotionally charged by my obsession with him and frankly with a little bit of a high for passing a tricky exam. This is a treat for myself.

EDIT: Please check out this wonderful comic that @danijaci made me based off this fic!! 😭🫶

Picking up the cup from the fine oak table, you gazed towards the eerie galaxy before you, hundreds upon thousands of stars giving you a constant reminder of just how far from home you truly were. Taking a sip from the little porcelain cup you could not help but to hum in delight, the soft notes of the tea soothing your nerves ever so lightly as you pretended to ignore the heavy gaze which lingered at the back of your head.

Even from this distance, it was easy to tell that Sunday was eager to approach you. Still, he kept his distance and made a silent offering in the form of the very tea you drank at the moment.

Anything is better than Himeko's coffee but you were never going privy her to that.

In a not so distant past, all of this was nothing but fiction. The Express, the story, the characters - it was all nothing more but fiction, something to pass the time as your days went on and on, the same monotony repeating each and every day.

It was hard to not think about your friends and family, what sane person would not? Lord knows how they must be feeling right now, worried sick out of their minds with indescribable sorrow. In their eyes you had merely vanished, not a single trace to be found. For all they knew you could have been left for dead in a ditch somewhere, beaten, bloodied and broken, never to see the light again or if they were even more inclined to be morbid, you had succumbed to a fate worse than death. Death at the very least grants you finality, that all is over regardless of what happened moments prior.

But that was simply not the case for you.

Here you were, lounging about in a comfortable chair as you pondered on your old life while enjoying tiny little luxuries, far away where none of your loved ones could reach you. However, life was funny sometimes because it had some fun games in store.

Sunday was very kind upon arrival. He made sure to always be there for you, always checking up on you, always there to keep you company. You were already smitten with him but now to actually witness him in the flesh was just... Indescribable. You got along like a house on fire, so much so that the crew liked to tease that you ought to just get a room. Sunday, ever the gentleman, would just brush their words aside and assure you to not take their playful little jabs to heart.

You wouldn't say anything, resorting to merely giving him a smile but not because of what he said but rather of what he did not - never once did he actually shut down those perverse accusations. Never, not even once did he deny them.

He became an emotional crutch, someone to whom you would come running to when things got tough and he would always welcome you with open arms. Sunday would hold you tenderly, his serene voice dripping with honey along with a tender drop of ecstasy, for his excitement with holding you would just show itself sometimes. His grip would be too tight at certain moments, never quite ready to let you leave. His hugs were warm and comforting, he always smelled so good too. He smelled like kindness and sweet wildflowers, always lulling you back to him no matter the time. In dark corners and perhaps even under the watchful eyes of the crew, Sunday would wrap his scarf around your head, securing the soft fabric in order to provide you with a sense of comfort.

It was humiliating just how much you would try to inhale his scent as much as possible. You wanted it etched deep inside your memory, you wished for it to linger on your very soul and for it to follow you everywhere you went, sticking to your being like tar. The fabric of the scarf would muffle your ears a little but someone was always chatting in the background. Be it March bickering with Dan Heng, Mr Yang scolding someone for doing something they were not supposed to, or just Conductor Pom Pom trying to give a speech, all of it was irrelevant.

You were ready to kill whoever would try to pry you away from sweet Sunday. That thought came often which had left you worried - just what kind of person had you become? Regardless, you kept your mouth shut and had no plans of sharing such violent sentiments with anyone, particularly not to the one you held so dear.

When it was time to part for the evening you would bid the crew farewell and wished them a good night. You always made sure to take a few extra seconds with Sunday, just to ease your aching soul. He would tell you to sleep well and would see you in the morning, ready to take on any endeavor that crossed your paths.

As everyone parted ways, Sunday would wander off somewhere dark and distant, somewhere no one could see nor hear him. He would fall to his knees and clutch his chest in agony, fat tears streaming down his face as he did everything he possibly could to steady his raging heart. In a rush he would reach for the scarf which clung around his neck, his grip tighter than iron as he would bring it close to his nose. Taking a large, deep breath, Sunday was greeted by your familiar scent which would promptly calm his poor heart.

He sometimes wondered if his heart would start bleeding from the pain due to the sheer intensity of his emotions.

This was wrong, everything about this was not right and it hurt. Sunday was obviously ill but he had no clue on how to fight this... This emotion, this white hot feeling of need whenever you stood by his side. He started to choke on the air around him and fell into an abrupt coughing fit but even then, he could bring himself to remove the scarf from the lower part of his face.

Sunday wept and sobbed, filthy snot coming out from his nose but he could not handle that now. He needed you, Oh Heavenly Aeons, how he needed you. However was he going to tell you how he felt? How, oh how was he going to express the sheer magnitude of his true thoughts? He would scare you off, he was sure of it.

Even with this pain, even with these clipped wings and bleeding heart, Sunday had never felt so alive, so harrowingly present in the moment whenever he was with you.

Perhaps, he was doing himself a kindness by just letting you be. Drink your tea, be at peace.

He can always just make you another cup if you so desired.

Without knowing, you both haunted each other in the most agonizing way known to mankind and neither was strong enough to face the reality of the situation.

[bunji-enthusiast]

I had this in thought alot! (It's gory if you don't mind!)

Poppy playtime player becoming so hungry at this point that their losing their sanity and thinking of eating the corpses For survival so the rest has to hold player down from eating the corpses!

(I know its gory and so sorry if it made you uncomfortable)

𝐖𝐚𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐖𝐞 𝐆𝐨

Sypnosis [The tempting smell of the corpses becomes more and more frequent, it eventually became too hard for you too ignore due to your increasing hunger. Luckily, you had some allies to help you resist it; even if forcibly.]

Characters [Kissy Missy, DogDay, Poppy, Doey The Doughman. (Seperate)]

Note || you didn’t make me uncomfortable at all! Don’t worry, but it’s a topic I tried to write with care. This shit is a very real thing that can happen, and should be treated with caution and respect.

Kissy Missy

You had never imagined it would come to this: an insatiable hunger gnawing at your gut, unrelenting as the hours passed. You, once a proud employee of Playtime Co., found yourself trapped in the eerie, decaying remnants of the factory, alongside strange, monstrous beings that had once been your colleagues. The stench of death lingered thick in the air, a heavy reminder of the atrocities committed during The Hour of Joy, but now it did more than just disgust you. Now, it tempted you.

At first, you fought against the gnawing cravings that threatened to overtake you. How could you—someone who had worked here—ever think of consuming the bodies of the very ones you had once known, even if they were twisted remnants of their former selves? And yet, each passing hour made it harder to resist, each sight of a fallen figure, each whiff of their decaying flesh, made your resolve falter. Hunger, once a mere inconvenience, became a ravenous beast clawing at your insides.

But you were not alone in this misery. Kissy Missy, who had once been just another experiment under Playtime Co.'s cruel reign, was there, always by your side. Tall and slender, her pink fur now marred by the scars of countless battles, she seemed almost... human in a way. Her blue bow and yellow hands stood out against her once pristine pink fur, now tattered from years of neglect and violence. She had been through her own trauma, the burns on her right side proof of that, yet she still managed to offer you a strange sense of comfort, a reminder that you weren't the only one left with so much lost.

You hated the hunger, but it was her presence that kept you from succumbing. Despite her own pain and injuries, she remained strong, acting as a barrier between you and the darkness threatening to overtake you.

Kissy's efforts were not subtle. She could see the desperation in your eyes as you edged closer to the corpses scattered around the facility, the lifeless remains of those who had been victims of the Prototype’s reign. She had already seen what the hunger could do to a person, and she would be damned if she allowed you to fall victim to it.

"Don’t," she would warn, her voice surprisingly gentle despite the fierceness that radiated from her. "Stay with me."

You hated that she had to intervene, to hold you back with both her force and concern. But you knew deep down that she was right. If she weren't there, you might have already given in, becoming something far worse than you already were. The hunger was more than just physical. It was a pull, a drive to consume the very thing that you had once been, the remnants of a life that had crumbled away into twisted, grotesque shapes.

Each time you got too close, her grip tightened around your arm, pulling you away from the gruesome temptation. There were moments, though, when you could feel your resistance weakening, when the hunger surged so strongly that it drowned out every other thought. At those times, she was not gentle. She would force you back, pushing you away from the remains, her sharp eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and fierce determination.

It was only then, in those moments, that you saw the lengths she was willing to go to keep you from crossing that line. The force she applied was not cruel but necessary. You were no longer yourself, a mere shell of who you once were. And she, though herself a victim of this cruel factory, refused to let you become something even worse.

"You’re not one of them," Kissy would say, her voice laced with a fierce protectiveness. "Don’t lose yourself."

There was something strange about the way she said it, as though she knew something deeper, something that had been lost to you. You were not just another victim of the Prototype’s horrific games—you were something else, something worth saving.

The hunger didn’t go away, not entirely. But you fought against it, clinging to the memory of who you used to be. And as each day passed, as each battle with your own cravings grew more intense, you realized that you weren’t alone in this anymore. Kissy Missy, despite her own pain, was there, holding you back from the abyss, keeping you tethered to whatever humanity you had left.

She would do anything to prevent you from falling, even if it meant pushing you to your breaking point. And in the end, you knew you owed her more than just your survival. She had become your anchor in a world that had long since drowned in darkness, guiding you through the factory’s nightmarish halls with a strength that you had long since lost.

But even then, there were moments when the hunger threatened to overtake you, and in those moments, you understood just how far Kissy Missy was willing to go to save you from yourself. She was more than just an ally; she was a reminder of the last shred of humanity that existed in this forsaken place.

Would you be able to resist the temptation forever? Could you both survive the horrors that awaited you in the depths of Playtime Co.? Only time would tell, but as long as Kissy Missy was there, you felt a sliver of hope that you might just find a way to escape the darkness together.

DogDay

You stagger through the cold, decaying corridors, your stomach gnawing at you with an unbearable hunger. It's been hours since you last found food, and your body is betraying you. The thought of cannibalism has been creeping into your mind, tempting you like a forbidden fruit. The idea repulses you, but with every passing hour, that same thought grows more and more alluring. Your lips are dry, your body weak, and every fiber of your being is screaming for sustenance. You grit your teeth, trying to push the urge down, but it rises again, a terrifying whisper in the back of your mind.

"Why not?" it asks, a cold voice that isn't your own. "What else is there? Food is food, isn't it?"

You stumble forward, your vision blurred from exhaustion. The floor beneath you seems to shift, as if the very foundation of this forsaken place is alive. You know you're being driven mad, but your hunger, that primal instinct, is overpowering. The walls seem to close in on you, their decay a reflection of your own deteriorating state of mind.

Just as you're about to give in to the temptation, a voice, soft yet commanding, cuts through the haze of your thoughts.

"Don't," DogDay says, his monotone voice a calm anchor in the storm that rages inside you. His words are a gentle plea, a reminder of the bond you share with him.

You turn to see him, his disfigured form standing in the shadowed corner of the hallway. His orange fur is a stark contrast to the darkness surrounding you, and despite his monstrous appearance, there's a sense of comfort in his presence. His body is a grotesque mockery of what it once was, bisected at the waist and held together with leather straps, yet his eyes, black and expressive, seem to convey nothing but concern for you.

"DogDay..." you mutter, your voice hoarse, as you struggle to stand. "I can't... I don't know how much longer I can hold on."

DogDay's head tilts slightly, as if he understands the torment you're going through. He knows. He's been there before, though perhaps in a different way. His stitched-together body speaks of an existence far more painful than yours could ever be. And yet, he chooses to help you, to guide you through this madness.

"I won't let you," DogDay says firmly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You can't. This isn't the way."

You can feel the weight of his words sink into you, and for a moment, you close your eyes, trying to push the hunger down again. But it lingers, gnawing at your insides. It's tempting, so tempting to give in.

But DogDay is here. He always has been.

You turn to him, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you take a step back. Not just from the hunger, but from the madness that has consumed you. You're not alone. DogDay is here, and though he can't move as freely as he once did, he is steadfast in his support.

The moment passes, but the hunger is still there, lurking beneath the surface. It's waiting for you to falter, to give in. But DogDay won't let that happen.

"Stay with me," he urges, his voice as steady as ever. "I know the darkness calls to you, but you're stronger than it. We just need to keep moving. Keep moving, and we'll find a way out."

You nod, wiping the sweat from your brow. The hunger doesn't go away, but for now, it's bearable. You can withstand it. With DogDay by your side, you will survive this.

As you walk together through the decaying corridors, the weight of the past still hanging heavily on your shoulders, you can't help but wonder just how far DogDay has come. He was once part of a group, the Smiling Critters, living in harmony with the experiments, but all of that changed during The Hour of Joy. The chaos, the bloodshed, it shattered everything. DogDay was left behind, a solitary figure in a world gone mad. Yet, through it all, he remained resilient, steadfast in his determination to help you.

"I was not always like this," DogDay says quietly, as if reading your thoughts. "I had a family once. A purpose. But that was taken from me, just like it was taken from everyone else."

His words hang in the air, heavy with grief and longing. You know the story, of course. The Smiling Critters' revolt against the Prototype, their deaths, and DogDay's subsequent imprisonment by CatNap. It was a tragic tale, one that left DogDay scarred in both body and mind. But despite it all, he chose to survive.

And now, he chooses to help you survive.

The thought is enough to steel your resolve. You can do this. You will not succumb to the darkness. Not while DogDay is here to keep you grounded.

The two of you move forward, one step at a time, the silence between you comfortable, yet filled with unspoken understanding. The hunger still claws at you, but for now, you resist. With DogDay by your side, you know you can make it through this.

Poppy

The atmosphere in the factory was suffocating. The low hum of machines, the distant clattering of metal, and the unsettling silence in between all gnawed at you. You'd been walking for hours now, your stomach growling like an angry beast inside of you, each hour dragging the hunger closer to the surface. There was a time when you’d had a deep hatred for the idea of cannibalism. But now? The thought didn’t seem so absurd. Every inch of your body ached with need. The edges of your vision blurred with hunger, but still, you resisted the impulse.

"You need to hold it together," you muttered to yourself, your voice hoarse and desperate. You couldn't let your mind go there, couldn’t let the gnawing hunger take you to such a dark place.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw her—Poppy. A doll, yes, but one that seemed to hold some kind of strange power over you. She was small, porcelain skin cracked, but her eyes... her eyes were too real. Too alive. The crack running across her face only seemed to add to the unsettling, almost haunting nature of her presence. Yet she was there, watching over you, her concern evident even with her painted smile.

"Are you okay?" Poppy's voice, though childlike, held an unexpected firmness, as if she knew exactly what you were going through.

"Do I look okay?" you snapped, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I'm starving. I'm dying. And you're... just a doll. What could you possibly understand?"

Poppy didn't flinch. She merely tilted her head, her glassy blue eyes reflecting your pain in a way that only made the hunger worse. But there was something else behind those eyes. Understanding? Sympathy? It was hard to tell.

"I understand more than you think," she said quietly. "You don't want to go down that path. Trust me."

Her words held a strange weight. Despite her being a mere doll, she exuded a certain authority—like she was guiding you, almost protecting you from your own darkness. It was unnerving and, yet, comforting at the same time.

You stepped back, wiping your brow, but the hunger wouldn't let you go. It clawed at you, deep within, screaming to be fed. Your hand instinctively reached towards the nearest source of food—a small, half-eaten rat carcass lying in the shadows.

Before your fingers could wrap around it, Poppy's small, porcelain hand shot out. "No," she said sharply, her voice cutting through the fog in your mind. "I won't let you."

You froze, staring at her, confused. "What... what are you going to do about it? You're just a doll. What power do you have?"

Poppy's eyes narrowed. "I have more power than you think. And I will stop you."

Before you could process the words, Poppy was suddenly in front of you, her small hand placed firmly on your chest. You felt a strange warmth spread from the spot where her hand met your skin, and for a moment, the hunger seemed to ebb away, replaced by something else—something deeper. But just as quickly, the warmth was gone, replaced by a biting cold as Poppy stepped back.

"You don't understand," she said, her voice softer now. "I won't let you become like them. I won't let you become like... him."

You stared at her in confusion, your mind too clouded with hunger to process what she meant. You'd heard the whispers about the Prototype, the monster who twisted everything around him, but you couldn’t focus on that now. Not with the gnawing ache in your gut.

"I can't hold on much longer," you whispered. "I need food. Real food."

Poppy took a deep breath, her porcelain face still. She seemed to consider something before her eyes flickered to the side, as if she were contemplating an action. Then, with a sudden, sharp motion, she grabbed your wrist.

"You will not fall to this. Not while I’m here. Not while there’s a chance."

The intensity in her voice stunned you. You'd never expected a doll—a toy—to show such determination. But it was there. Her unwavering resolve was impossible to ignore.

"You don't understand," you said again, more urgently this time. "You can't stop me. You don't know what it’s like to be on the edge like this... to be so desperate."

Poppy's eyes softened, but her grip on your wrist tightened. "I do understand," she whispered. "I've seen the consequences of desperation. I've seen what it can turn you into. And I won't let you become that."

You looked into her eyes, seeing not a doll, but something much more complex. Something alive, struggling with the same darkness you were. She was just as broken as you, perhaps even more so, trapped in this hellish place for who knows how long.

"I will fight this," you rasped, voice trembling.

"You will fight this," Poppy repeated, as though reinforcing the promise to yourself. "I won't let you lose."

The hunger still gnawed at you, but there was something in Poppy's words—a lifeline. A chance. You weren’t sure if it was enough to save you, but you weren’t alone anymore. She had no power over your body, but in this twisted game of survival, she had become your tether. Your reminder of something you had long forgotten: humanity. You just had to hold on.

And for the first time in hours, you didn’t feel entirely alone.

Doey The Doughman

It had hours, maybe even more then a couple days—you couldn’t tell anymore. Time had become a blur, and the hunger gnawed at you with an intensity you could hardly describe. Your stomach was a hollow pit, and every hour that passed, the sensation grew worse. You hated it. You hated the very idea of what you were beginning to consider. But your options were running out.

The factory, once a place full of life and color, now stood desolate, a rotting carcass of what it had once been. Its walls, dim and cracked, seemed to close in on you with every passing moment. Your search for food had been fruitless, and what remained of the once-thriving operations was little more than discarded remnants of forgotten lives. Desperation had begun to seep into your thoughts, and with it, a temptation you never thought you would entertain.

Cannibalism. The idea lingered in the back of your mind like a whisper in the dark. You knew it was wrong, morally abhorrent, but the hunger—it was becoming unbearable. You couldn’t deny that the flesh of another being, even one of the toy creatures that had once roamed this place, might offer a solution. You didn’t want to think about it, but your body cried out for sustenance.

It was then that you heard the soft squish of footsteps approaching. You turned, blinking against the fading light, and saw him: Doey.

The dough-like creature was an oddity in this forsaken world. His body, made of multicolored, clay-like dough, seemed to shimmer in the dimness. His long arms—orange and yellow—hung at his sides, his short, stubby red legs moving with surprising speed. The blue bowler hat perched on his head was almost comical against his mismatched features, and his simple, expressive face, with a line for a mouth and two holes for eyes, always seemed to radiate an air of cheer, even in the darkest of times.

"Hey there," Doey’s voice was calm, but there was an undertone of concern that you couldn’t ignore. He could always tell when something was wrong, even if you hadn’t spoken a word.

You had never been one for speaking about your feelings, especially with a creature like Doey. You didn’t trust anyone—not after everything you’d been through. But there was something different about him. Something about his kindness, his willingness to help, even when it meant putting himself in danger.

"I know you're struggling," Doey said, his eyes narrowing as he read your expression. "But you have to resist it. You can’t let the hunger take control of you. Not like this."

You swallowed hard, feeling the knot in your throat tighten. "I don’t know if I can hold on much longer," you muttered, your voice barely a whisper.

Doey stepped closer, his large arms almost seeming to engulf you in their reach as he gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "I’m not going to let you fall into that darkness," he said firmly. "I promised you. I’ll help you resist, even if it means doing things you might not like."

You blinked, looking at the doughy figure in disbelief. "What are you talking about?"

Without warning, Doey’s expression shifted from that of a friendly companion to something far more serious. The playful demeanor that usually characterized his every move was gone, replaced by a cold determination. "I’m going to stop you if I have to," he said, his voice stern, yet full of understanding. "I won’t let you give in to it."

Your breath hitched, and for the first time, you felt a flicker of fear. It wasn’t from Doey himself, but from the fact that you knew, deep down, he was right. If you gave in, it wouldn’t just be your body that suffered—it would be your soul, too. But the temptation was so strong. It was almost impossible to push it away.

"Don’t make me do this," Doey warned, as if sensing your internal struggle. "You don’t want to go down that path."

The hunger inside you raged, a beast that tore at your insides. Your thoughts were clouded by the vision of the soft, tender flesh that could satiate you. You tried to push the thoughts away, but they clung to your mind like a shadow.

You took a step forward, your hands trembling as you gripped a nearby piece of metal, your mind flickering with the thought of using it, of ending the misery that had overtaken you.

"Don’t," Doey’s voice was sharp, his body blocking your path. "I will stop you, even if it means I have to restrain you."

He wasn’t threatening. He was determined. And in that moment, you knew he would do it.

You locked eyes with him, the weight of your internal battle becoming unbearable. The hunger had made you weak, both physically and mentally, but Doey was your anchor, a reminder of the better part of yourself. He wasn’t just a friend; he was a lifeline.

"Please," you whispered, the word escaping you before you could stop it. "I can’t—"

Doey didn’t give you a chance to finish. His long, orange arm shot out, grabbing you by the wrist with surprising force. "I won’t let you go there," he said softly, but with an unmistakable firmness. "You’re not alone in this. Not anymore."

For a moment, you struggled, but the strength in his grip was like nothing you had ever encountered. He wasn’t trying to hurt you—he was holding you, not with force, but with care.

"Just breathe," Doey said, guiding you to sit down on the cold concrete floor. "We’ll get through this. Together."

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to lean into him. The hunger was still there, gnawing at the edges of your mind, but with Doey by your side, the battle didn’t seem so hopeless.

You weren’t alone.

And that, you realized, was more than you could have hoped for in a place like this.

[kathaynesart]

Took a bit of time to myself to finally sketch out my vision for Frida based off Andy Suriano’s Farewell. More design thoughts under the cut.

I know some were wary of her appearing too feminine, but honestly I enjoyed the challenge of finding a way to feminize the base turtle model and stay true to Andy’s wonderful design. I don’t want her to just look like her brothers in a show that embraces their differences.

The biggest thing I added to her design was an exposed heart. My own little twist inspired by a real life issue some turtles deal with as well as a fitting ode to the artist she is named after, Frida Kahlo, who often drew herself with her heart floating outside of her body. (And yes I made the creative decision to keep her heart at her center as with many turtles.)

This deformity occurred during her mutation where the sudden growth spurt tore open a hole at the seam of her plastron. She has survived as long as she has because of Big Mama who uses mystic wards to keep her heart physically safe and emotionally numb. If you look closely to her plastron in the show it’s not actually a natural body part but rather seems to be an attachment of her trench coat. Likely a false cover to hide her obvious weak spot (or at least that is my head canon!)

I love the idea of her and Donnie having something they can relate to and I’m sure he’ll be happy to design chest armor for her down the line once she’s free of Big Mama. Maybe someday I’ll figure out her full Mad Dogs outfit, but for now this is just her base and bandana.

As each of the boys embodies a shape, I found it all too fitting to have Frida’s be a heart. It’s honestly a cool shape that uses both rounded forms and sharp points, which I think would encapsulate her character well. Prickly on the surface but a softy deep down. I tried to find less typical ways of feminizing her. Sharpening her beak and digits while retaining the style of feminine eyes present in most of the female cast but matching it more closely to the unsettling shape of the eyes on her assistant’s mask.

Her markings are a color flip of Mikey’s, where as his are yellow spots with orange outlines hers are orange with yellow outlines. Coupled with her yellow eyes to match Donnie and Raph, it gives her this fiery vibe that I think still sets her far apart from Mikey.

The mask was honestly the hardest part. I love that it further accentuates her heart motif and made her more expressive, but just giving her the obvious bow and calling it a day did not sit well with me. I decided to try more of a high ponytail look, but I think it still needs some work. I’m pretty sure I like her with yellow though, both as a nod to Jennika and the idea of April giving her something of her own to help form the bond between the two.

Would love to flesh her out further but back to my usual stuff first.