#i thought we were gonna draw more than one object

[isabelopaque]

I was gonna post a picture of my first real drafting paper but i spaced it absolutely terribly i feel like that princess peach image mario. I have completely fucked up this cake. Mario i have completely ruined this scenic bush ground plan

[pellucid-constellations]

If It All Fell (8)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: Angst, pining, injury

a/n: I appreciate thoughts and reactions more than you know!!! <333 Italics indicate flashbacks.

Series Masterlist (all parts ♡)

~~

The next two weeks were interesting. 

In the first few days after the accident—the ones filled with confusion and incorrect suspicions—you had spent most of your time alone or sleeping. Mor visited your bedroom every morning to share limited information about your past, but there was no routine beyond that. Everyone tiptoed around you, too afraid to set off the timebomb they assumed was your mind.

But Helion had disputed that assumption. 

You were allowed to know who you were, to become the person you had been. 

So, a routine began to form. 

Breakfast early in the morning, usually with a random assortment of the inner circle. Mor was always present, keeping up with her responsibility of telling you about yourself. Cassian joined more often than not—an early riser, he deemed himself. Azriel made it when he could. He was always busy in the morning. Doing… something, everyone told you.

Rhysand would join you after the meal, whisking you away for an hour or two to work on the powers you still could not call upon. He would have a different objective in mind every day and it was your job to parse out what it was. 

You failed. 

Obviously. 

He started bringing in random Velaris citizens instead, but you still felt nothing. It was nice to see the smiling strangers; they were all kind to you, all apparently knowing who you were. The vagueness surrounding them leveled the playing field more. They didn’t know your whole life story and you weren’t supposed to know theirs. 

“You’ve explained it to me before,” Rhysand had said. “It’s a vibration, sometimes a light or a color. You see it around them, feel it. You understand a deep part within them that they don’t even know they’re revealing.” 

Well, there was never any light or vibration or color. You could never tell that the fae were lying or that Rhysand was planning something big for his anniversary with his mate. None of this otherworldly intuition that the Night Court seemed to value so highly. It was all just stagnant. 

After spending some time failing with Rhys, you got to explore Velaris. You had insisted that you didn’t need a chaperone, and your family believed you—for a time. You had three whole days of walking around the city alone before that privilege was revoked.

Granted, it was your fault that it was revoked, but that was neither here nor there. 

It hadn’t been your plan to get lost, just as it hadn’t been your plan to get caught up in a street brawl over a cart of potatoes. But when you weren’t at the designated meeting spot for Cassian to bring you back up the house, and when he found you with a bleeding nose an hour later, what you meant to do didn’t matter. 

“Y/n?” you heard a voice shout, heavy footsteps shaking the ground beneath you. “Shit—y/n, look at me, you okay?” 

Warm hands enveloped your shaking ones, drawing them back and catching sight of the red staining your fingerprints. It was Cassian, you realized, with his broad wings cloaking you in their shadow. The General’s expression hardened when he took in your face.

“What happened?” he asked, voice low, comfort combatting fury. “Where have you been? We have about 10 people looking for you, sweetheart.” 

You grimaced—both at the pain in your nose and the notion of your family scouring the streets of Velaris. “I’m so, so sorry, Cassian. I got turned around and then I was in this alley and there was a boy—” 

“Hey!” Defeat washed through you at the sound of another voice in the alley, all hopes for a peaceful return home washed away. “Is your girlfriend over there gonna pay for the product I lost?” 

The Illyrian before you paused, body going still at the accusatory tone. Cassian’s jaw clenched and he turned, keeping you well behind him. You still caught a glimpse of the scene from between his legs, and the merchant—to his credit—had the mind to stop his taunting. 

And to look afraid. 

Really, truly afraid. 

“You did this to her?” Cassian growled, fists clenching at his sides. 

The merchant swallowed. “You’re—and she’s…” 

“Did you. Do this. To her?” Cassian asked again, words broken up by malice. 

A beat of pressing silence, only whispers of the street meeting your ears. The merchant took several, shaky steps back, but the movement damned him. His hands swayed with his backtracking feet, and red glistened on his knuckles. 

Cassian’s wings flared at the sight. It only took a small uptick of his brow for the smaller man to fall to the floor in a plea. 

“Please, please don’t kill me! I didn’t know who she was. Don’t turn me over to the Shadowsinger, I won’t make it! I have a family to care for—a wife! I was only trying to protect my crops and she butted in. I didn’t want to hurt her!”

The General hooked his chin over his shoulder and sent you a questioning gaze, one you were sheepish to answer. With a harrowing breath, you revealed, “There was a little boy stealing potatoes. He was going to hit him. I stepped in the way.” 

A tug at your chest had you gasping as Cassian turned back around. The feeling had been persistent the moment you got lost, increasing after you’d been implicated in the merchant’s conflict. It pulled and pulled, a desperate winding around your ribs that you didn’t know how to relieve. 

It had to have been fear. Or stress. 

Cassian eyed the man crumpled to the floor. “Is the boy okay?” he asked, the question meant for you but directed across the alley. 

“Yes,” you confirmed, pressing your hand to the blood running down your chin. “He ran away.” 

Cassian grunted, sent a harsh warning to the man, and then crouched back down to your place on the ground, shaking his head in frustration. “Let’s get you home.” And then he grumbled, “I might get my ass kicked but…” 

Cassian had not gotten his ass kicked when you got home, but many other things happened. Mor just about cried in relief, her arms thrown around your neck followed by a string of commands to never do such a thing again. Rhys rubbed at his jaw as tension lifted from the House. He also had a command—that you wouldn’t be traveling alone anymore. 

And Azriel… Azriel looked like he would vomit, his shadows flitting angrily around him before bridging a path to you. He had cleaned the blood from your face, eyes haunted by misplaced grief, and pure guilt replaced all else in your myriad of emotions. 

You agreed an escort would be better. 

Azriel volunteered. Every day. 

And so you got to know Azriel. 

Mor had described him as reserved, not one to offer the intimacy of touch or personal information so readily. That was not your experience with the Shadowsinger. 

Fleeting touches had become commonplace between the two of you, whether it was his hands or his wings or the brush of his thigh as you sat by the Sidra. You weren’t sure if he was doing it consciously, but you welcomed the familiarity. You found he did it most when he wasn’t paying attention—when he was deep into a story about your past or listening to your opinions intently. 

He was open, sharing pieces of himself you didn’t have to pry to receive. He told you about his mother, about his scars, about how he overcame them. He shared with you how important you were to him many, many times, slipping it into conversations so causally. A thread connected the pieces of his life, and you, it appeared, made up the spool. 

He did not speak of his mate, despite being prompted. 

A sadness came over him at any mention of her, one so achingly melancholy that you told yourself you wouldn’t ask again. 

He loved her deeply, but something had happened there.

You tried not to get too close. This was friendship, a deep familial love that he relied on. That you seemed to have relied on for so many years.

And Azriel was hurt. Even if he and his mate were no longer intertwined by their bond, he didn’t need the onslaught of emotions his amnesiac friend was suddenly overcome with. 

Because you were—overcome by emotions for him. 

It was wrong. 

You wished you had the context to separate those feelings. If you understood your history—if you had memories beyond the few weeks of sweet stories and brushes of his fingers along your hair—maybe you wouldn't be feeling this way. Maybe your heart wouldn’t beat painfully against your ribs each time he entered the room… each time his eyes met yours as if he could feel your admiration for him within his own chest. 

You wouldn’t be feeling this way, surely. Because no one had told you that you should be. 

You only had the recounts of your friends, and the three of them had made no insinuations about you and Azriel. 

You wished you could meet the rest of the inner circle. 

There had been plans to, but then you came home with blood on your face and a disorientation in your eyes and that was suddenly off the table. 

After your time exploring Velaris, you read. 

Mor would pile your favorite books beside you in the small reading room you had come to love and rave about how great of an opportunity this was for you.

“You would kill to be able to read these for the first time again,” she’d laugh. “So have at it!” 

Reading felt easy. 

Books did not pressure you to remember things you weren’t able to. 

You could see it all in their eyes, the way your family clung to each of your words for even a hint of reminiscence. They’d make a joke and hold their breath, desperate for the laugh that should be bubbling out of you. But you never got it, never making the connections that they did. 

Azriel was the only one who’d catch the shame you felt at your lack of deliverance. Although he was the one with the most torture in his expression, he was also the one with the most understanding. He’d lean his head down and whisper what you needed to know in your ear, and then you’d giggle—for show—and hope would return to the room. 

But nothing had returned to you. 

You were still a shell.

~~

“What do you think?” 

Cassian’s question blanketed the table, forks halting their movements atop plates. Breakfast had just begun and you were dressed for a morning in Velaris at the theater, this time with Cassian. 

“Are you sure that’s the best idea?” Mor questioned, eyeing the General beneath a raised brow. 

“Were you there last week when I brought her home all bloody? I think it’s a great idea. Rhys agrees.” 

“And Az?” 

Cassian continued his breakfast, reaching for his drink. “Cassian—”

And so you found yourself steps away from the roof of the House of Wind—no longer in the comfortable daywear you’d been sporting—squinting into the morning sun. Leathers fitted for your body were laced up at your back and waist, stretching with a groan as you reached up to block the light from your eyes. Although the pain in your head had subsided to practically nonexistence, it often flared up in brightness or in times of stress. 

Like when you stood atop a mountain and stared into the sun. Or got punched in the nose by a potato merchant. 

“This is where I go while you go galavanting around the city,” Cassian chimed in, a grin evident in his words. 

“Charming,” you muttered, still adjusting to the jarring assault of the sun.

The sound of grunts and clashing metal oriented you quicker, and as your eyesight settled you were met with the image of Azriel. He was bare-chested, leathers donning his legs as he pressed further and further forward, the knife you always saw at his hips hacking away at the metal dummy before him. 

He moved so quickly that it was difficult to track him, one swipe after another, so carefully skilled and practiced. Sweat beaded down his tattooed skin. His wings rippled and spread in time with his footwork. 

He was mesmerizing, a force of nature only halting as his shadows wound around his ear, whispering. Azriel whipped around, sheathing his knife at his side and staring out beyond the training ring with a narrowed gaze. He spotted you instantly, without looking near or around—a magnetic force. 

Until he wasn’t looking at you, instead glowering in Cassian’s direction. “What are you doing, brother?” he bit out. The back of his hand made a quick pass along his forehead. 

Cassian didn’t look the slightest bit sheepish, ushering you to the outskirts of the ring. “She’s going to train. Now that we know she won’t break at the slightest thing.” 

Hazel eyes slid back to you, a softness overcoming them as you quickly averted your gaze from the broadness of his chest. You were not ogling him. 

You bit into your cheek to stave off the embarrassment. 

“I thought we agreed—” 

“Az, come on. It’s been a couple of weeks now. We need to get her back in the swing of things.” 

A crack of defeat edged its way onto the Shadowsinger’s face. 

What had they agreed on? To wait it out? To treat you like glass until you were their version of yourself again? Something ugly licked up into your chest, something raw. 

For a moment—just one—you stood on the sidelines and felt pathetic. While the two Illyrians stared at each other, a silent conversation between eyes, you let yourself feel like an outsider. They had had discussions about you, but not really about you. About the you that they loved—the one with memories and reciprocation. 

“Will you be careful?” Azriel’s even voice snapped you out of the spiral you had initiated. His expression was uneasy, a hand pressed to his chest. “And tell us if you need to stop? If your head—” 

“My head has been completely fine for a while now,” you assured, hands coming up to grasp the rungs of the training ring. “Promise.” 

Azriel pressed his lips into a line but motioned you in with a nod of his head. 

Despite the conflict still raging within your mind, you smiled at Cassian, the two of you letting out a small cheer and high-fiving before the General lifted you by your hips and past the rungs. You regained your footing and stood before the spymaster, meeting his level gaze with your own. 

“Alright, sweetheart,” Cassian began, a loud clap resonating behind you. “Muscle memory is going to play a big role here, but I don’t want to risk you getting hurt, so you’re just with this guy for now.” He patted the shoulder of the dummy Azriel had been practicing with. 

You scoffed, dropping your hands to hang by your thighs. “What? I still have the same muscle tone from before and last I checked my face was beaten in by a real person, not a chunk of metal.” 

“And that will not happen again,” Azriel cut it. “Ever. But especially not when you’re… in this state.”

You ignored the unsettling remark. “Okay, well I think sparring one of you would be more effective in the prevention of that, don’t you?” 

“Cassian and I could hurt you.” 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“We can’t guarantee—” 

“I trust you,” you interrupted, your view of Azriel partially obstructed by the shadows that wound up your body. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me. Let me do this, Az.” 

The male before you faltered, his eyes darting quickly between yours. His chest, gleaming in the sunlight, rose and fell with strenuous effort. A clench of his jaw. Another pass of silence. 

“Okay,” he nodded, gaze roving over your features. “Okay, y/n. Get warmed up and we can spar.” 

You warmed up with Cassian, stretching and relishing in the feel of your body moving. He went over a few basic maneuvers with you, and you tried your hardest to pay close attention to how his feet slid around the ring. 

It was a rather hard task, seeing as Azriel had continued his blade work on the dummy. Still shirtless. 

After the General was satisfied with your progress, he passed you off to his brother. The Shadowsinger’s posture had softened a hair from when you first entered the ring, his wings coiled back and his shadows creating uneven shapes along the floor. He kept his hands by his sides, his feet relaxed—not a fighting stance in the slightest. 

“Come on,” you teased, cocking your head to the side. “You have to at least try, Az.” 

“I did not spar with you often before your memories were lost,” he admitted. “I do not enjoy the thought of hurting you.” 

Guilt immediately flooded you. You hadn’t even thought about what this would be like for him, too caught up in your own strife. Your stance dropped, the fists at your chin loosening and falling. 

“Oh, Azriel, I’m sorry. I can have Cassian—” 

“No.” He dragged his left foot back. A ghost of a fighting position. “Only me.” 

You took a painful breath in. 

He didn’t move, allowing you to lead. 

You shook your hands out and then your body moved of its own accord. 

You swiped at his legs first, unsurprised when he leaped back with practiced grace. The two of you fell into a dance of drawn arms and calculated shifts and you were almost unnerved by how your body moved without you willing it to. 

Cassian had said that muscle memory would play a role. 

It seemed to be the only thing driving you.  

You went for his knees, but in a way that maneuvered past his wings. 

You used his shadows as cover, taking advantage of their familiarity with you and cloaking yourself in their mist. 

Azriel swung a halfhearted punch at your shoulder and you bypassed the motion, grabbing his wrist and twisting at his back. 

It felt right. Your actions were not your own but they were ingrained in your being. 

This was your body. 

Something that remained unchanged. 

In your newfound joy, you missed the open palm Azriel carefully directed at your chest. The impact caught you off guard, stealing your breath from your lungs as you were pushed to the ground. As your back hit the floor, another shocking burst of air was ripped from you. 

You laid frozen for a moment before a shadow cast over your body, the sun no longer beating down on your skin. Through the ringing in your ears, Azriel’s voice flowed through. 

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—y/n, take a breath.” A scarred hand rubbed along your clavicle. “Breathe. You’re okay. Breathe.” 

A startling gasp of oxygen entered your lungs. You were fine, completely unharmed, only shocked and disoriented. Azriel bowed his head as you continued to circulate the air into your body, and it was then that you saw it. 

A chain hung between you, dangling from his neck and brushing against your chin. It swayed back and forth, a grounding point as you blinked back the tears lining your eyes. The ring glinted in the sun, rubbing against the golden chain, looking as if it did not belong there. 

Azriel tracked your gaze as he raised his head, looking down at the object of your attention. He sat back on his ankles and the diamond followed him, resting close to his chest. 

You raised yourself to your elbows. “Who’s—” You coughed. Azriel winced. “Is that yours?”  

A stupid question, but you couldn’t stop yourself from asking. A guarded look passed over the Shadowsinger’s face and you regretted it instantly. He reached up and clutched the necklace in a closed fist.  

“No,” he responded. “Are you okay?” 

He didn’t release the ring. 

“I’m okay,” you confirmed. “I’m not hurt. It just knocked the wind out of me.” 

Azriel nodded. A grim line formed between his brows. 

“Hey! She alright?” Cassian called. He had moved clear across the roof when you began to spar with Azriel, mentioning something about inventory or knives or something you hadn’t paid attention to. You had been too focused on the warmth you felt from being so close to Azriel’s skin. 

The sound of Cassian’s voice did nothing to break the hold Azriel’s eyes had on you. 

Another beat of silence passed. 

The wind blew a strand of his hair across his forehead. 

“I—” 

“I have a mission. I was supposed to meet with Rhys before midday.” He spoke the words apologetically but his hand shook when it lowered to his knee. 

The sun was already past the high point in the sky. It was no longer midday. 

“Okay,” you whispered. “I want to thank you for—” 

“Don’t thank me. Please, just—Be careful. I have to go.” 

A quiet collection of parting words fell from your lips and Aziel twitched, looking as if he would move forward but thinking better of it. 

But you had thoughts too, and they worked against Azriel’s

You raised to your knees and brushed the hair on his forehead back, a small smile gracing your face, trying so hard to melt some of the tension that had grown between you. Azriel’s breath caught as you moved, but you only doubled down, softly dragging your nails along his scalp. 

He shuddered, eyes falling shut for a brief, unguarded moment. 

His shadows consumed him. 

Azriel was gone. 

[kitty384]

All This Time

Summary: Y/N finds out she’s pregnant and spends the morning agonizing over how to tell Bucky. But when she finally does—with a tiny drawing and a trembling voice—his reaction is more beautiful than she ever could’ve hoped. Because to Bucky, this isn’t just a surprise… it’s the kind of joy he never thought he’d get to have.

Warnings: Pregnancy reveal, emotional vulnerability, soft domestic Bucky, found family themes, joyful crying, mentions of past trauma/healing, fluff with a touch of angst.

The Avengers compound was unusually quiet for a Saturday morning. That probably had something to do with Sam, Tony, and Clint staying up until 3 a.m. trying to recreate some kind of extreme obstacle course in the training room. Steve tried to stop them. He failed.

Bucky, ever the early riser, had taken his morning run and was now walking the halls with a cup of coffee, hair damp from the shower, hoodie sleeves pushed up, his vibranium arm catching the morning sun just right.

You, however, had been awake for hours.

Not for training. Not for reading. Not even for a walk with Natasha like you usually did every Saturday.

No, you were frozen in your suite’s bathroom, both hands clutching the edge of the sink, staring down at the tiny test on the counter like it was some alien object.

Positive.

You double-checked the box. Triple-checked it.

And now your stomach flipped again—not from nerves but from the weight of it.

You were pregnant.

With Bucky Barnes' baby.

Your husband. Your sweet, tender-hearted, traumatized-but-healing Bucky.

You had no idea how he’d react. He loved kids, but he also used to have nightmares so vivid he wouldn’t even sleep in the same bed some nights. You didn’t know if he was ready.

You didn’t know if you were ready.

But you did know you wanted to tell him in a way that made it feel like good news. Because it was. Even if your hands were shaking like you’d just run twenty miles.

Later that morning, you were curled up on the couch in your suite, a book open on your lap, though you hadn’t read the same paragraph five times. Bucky walked in, already smiling when he saw you. He always did.

“Hey, doll,” he said, leaning over the back of the couch to kiss your cheek. “You look cozy.”

“I am,” you lied, heart hammering in your chest. “Sit with me?”

He didn’t need to be asked twice.

Bucky sat down, pulled you into his side, and threw his arm around your shoulders. His fingers absentmindedly brushed your arm. “Everything okay? You’re quiet.”

You hesitated—then reached into the pocket of your cardigan.

“Okay, don’t panic,” you said, handing him a small folded piece of paper.

His brow furrowed, but he unfolded it carefully. Inside was a little drawing you’d made: stick figures. One with a metal arm, one with long hair (you), and a very tiny one in between them, holding both their hands.

He stared.

You waited.

Then his eyes slowly lifted to meet yours, something soft and unreadable in them.

“You're… are you saying—?”

You nodded, barely able to whisper: “I’m pregnant.”

At first, he didn’t speak. Just stared at you like you’d told him the moon was moving into your suite for a visit.

Then his hand came up to cover his mouth.

Then both arms wrapped around you, and he pressed his face into your shoulder.

You felt his whole body shake with a soft laugh. Then another.

Then he pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes. His were glossy, wide, and full of wonder.

“Are you happy?” you asked softly.

He let out a breathless laugh. “Are you kidding me? You—I—” He shook his head. “I didn’t think I’d get this. A life. A family.”

You tucked your fingers behind his neck, pulling him closer.

“You deserve all of it, Buck.”

His forehead rested against yours. “I’ve already got everything I ever wanted. And now…” He glanced down at your stomach, like he couldn’t believe it was real. “We’re gonna have a kid?”

You laughed through the tears starting to sting your eyes. “Yeah. We are.”

He kissed you then—slow and full of love and quiet gratitude. When you broke apart, he pressed his hand gently against your belly, still flat and giving away nothing.

“You’re gonna be such a good dad,” you said, voice trembling.

And Bucky, with all the emotion of a man who’d once believed he was broken beyond repair, whispered:

“I’m gonna love them so much.”

Masterlist

Request

[mysteryshoptls]

SR Jack Howl - Night Sky Chiffon Vignette

What's with that weird rule?

[Library – Entrance Hall]

Riddle: Now then, Deuce, let's get to it. Would you paint the walls with the colors of the night sky?

Deuce: Yes, sir, Housewarden!

Riddle: Once those preparations are completed, we'll use the wall as a night sky backdrop and set a multitude of lanterns aloft.

Kalim/Jack/Deuce: Yeah! / Yes, sir!

Jack: Okay, time to draw the picture of lanterns flying in the night sky.

Jack: For now, I have to figure out where the lanterns'll go. If I base it off the dimensions of the picture we're working off of…

Deuce: What are you doing, Jack? Why're you striking a weird pose with your thumbs and index fingers like that?

Jack: I ain't striking a pose! I'm trying to get an image of the whole picture by squaring it up.

Jack: If I do this, it'll be easier to figure out what size the lanterns should be drawn on the wall.

Jack: And that's how I realized…

Jack: All that dark blue you threw on the wall is painted a lot more vertical than the example we have to go off of.

Riddle: Indeed. I took that into account and make little marks where each lantern should be drawn.

Riddle: Could you draw an alight lantern at each of those little marks?

Jack: Right.

Jack: The paint colors I have here right now is red, blue, pink, yellow, and…

Jack: I guess I'll need orange if I'm going to draw some lanterns. I'll mix the red and yellow paint together.

[mixes paint]

Jack: That should be good enough. I'll start drawing the lanterns with yellow first…

[paint, paint]

Jack: Then I'll put on a layer of orange that I just made… Hey, that actually came out pretty good.

Riddle: You're right. The flame of the candle burning in the center of the lantern is shown well by the gradation you gave it.

Riddle: You've got some talent here. I had no idea you were so good at art.

Jack: Oh, no, I'm not good at it at all. All I really did was just scribble around with my siblings when I was a kid.

Jack: I more preferred to outside and move around, so I haven't really drawn much outside of my classes.

Riddle: You say you're not good at all… but I think you've done a good job.

Jack: Well, that's… probably because I've seen a bunch of lanterns before.

Jack: Not the ones that fly through the air, but I'm more talking about the ones that you'd use to go camping with.

Jack: When I was a kid, I'd find the flickering flames a little mesmerizing…

Jack: So I kinda just colored it like how I felt it was in my memories of back then.

Riddle: I see. So your observational skills are to thank for this completed picture, then.

Riddle: They do say that looking at the real object you are depicting leads to a good rough sketch of the subject… I feel as though I've learned something new.

Jack: The Princess of the Tower must've seen those strange lights flying in the sky once a year every year on her birthday...

Jack: And used those observations to draw them like this on the wall. All the while, she's curious as to what those lights were.

Riddle: Indeed. Even while she had been locked up in the tower, I'm sure she allowed her imagination to keep growing.

Riddle: And that is something that is absolutely essential to a competent mage. We cannot allow ourselves to become complacent.

Jack: Right. Our imagination abilities should be getting a good workout by thinking of how the princess acted, or what she saw.

Jack: I ain't gonna leave anything half-done. Everything'll get done just as…

Jack: Hm? What just hit my cheek…? HEY, WHAT'S WITH THIS PAINT!?

Kalim: 'Kay, I'm gonna draw a lantern with this color next!

[splat]

Jack: Kalim-senpai, you're using too much paint! Plus, you're waving your hands around too much…

Jack: You were the one who just splattered paint on me, weren't you!?

Kalim: Eh, did the paint hit you!? Sorry, sorry!

Riddle: I am relieved that I thought to use protection magic before we started painting. This library was in danger of becoming covered in paint…

Jack: I don't really want to get paint on this uniform. I guess I'll work a little further away from Kalim-senpai.

Jack: Hmm, where's the next mark Riddle-senpai put up…? Ah, here it is. I'll draw a lantern here.

Jack: This little yellow dot looks like a paint splatter. Guess I'll paint over with the base blue color to fix that.

[paint, paint]

Deuce: …Hey, Jack! Did you just paint over the stuff I just drew!?

Jack: I was just gettin' rid of the paint splatter. Nothing worth getting upset about.

Deuce: That wasn't a paint splatter, it was there to show how the light's glinting!

Deuce: Plus, if you're gonna paint over something on the wall, you gotta use a bigger array of colors than what was originally there.

Jack: What's with that weird rule? Is that one of your Queen of Hearts' laws?

Jack: Besides, I'm gonna be painting a lantern that's got more than 3 colors. That should be enough, right?

Deuce: …Fine, then. Guess I'll go work over there.

Jack: Huh, he backed down pretty quickly. He was spouting all that nonsense of spray painting the walls earlier, too…

Jack: I feel like it's way too easy to imagine him doing something way too ridiculous.

Jack: Geez. Why's he gotta start talkin' bout stuff that only makes sense to a couple people?

[paint, paint]

Jack: Alright, that's the last lantern painted.

Riddle: It seems as though the number of the lanterns, as well as their placement have been painted according to the drawing. I'd like to think that it comes quite close to the reference, but…

Kalim: Don'tcha think the painting's a little boring?

Riddle: I don't think there's any reason to make it too extravagant. However, I do also feel as though there's something missing.

Deuce: Oh yeah, Jack did say something about how the wall art was a little too long compared to the drawing in the book.

Deuce: Maybe that means the margins are a little off...?

Deuce: I'm more worried that it doesn't look like a painting of lanterns flying through the night sky.

Deuce: More like… It feels it like the streetlights when I'm riding a blastcycle at night, or the lights from oncoming cars.

Kalim: I mean, the Princess didn't know the lights flying in the sky were lanterns, and just drew what she saw, right?

Deuce: Right… Then I guess this painting is good.

[Jack thinks]

Jack: No, wait, I have an idea.

[Library – Entrance Hall]

Deuce: Right… Then I guess this painting is good.

[Jack thinks]

Jack: No, wait, I have an idea.

Kalim/Deuce/Riddle: What idea?

Jack: Yeah, so, I'm gonna draw a mountain at the bottom of the painting.

Jack: I'll take blue and yellow, and then mix this paint together… Alright. Now I just gotta draw near the bottom of the painting…

[paint, paint]

Jack: …How's that?

Riddle/Deuce/Kalim: WOOOOOOAH!!

Deuce: The lights are flying. Before you added that, they just looked like streetlights and headlights to me!

Kalim: Yeah! The lanterns are really flying in the air! That's amazing, Jack!

Kalim: The mountain's a pretty dark and boring color… But because of that, the lantern's lights look even more brighter!

Deuce: Yeah, I see it now that you mention it… I think I can definitely understand why the Princess of the Tower would've longed to see them.

Jack: You guys are laying it on way too thick. All I did was kinda draw what felt like a mountain line and colored it in.

Deuce: Don't get all shy on us, c'mon. But man, it's really strange.

Deuce: The lantern's lights weren't touched at all… So why do the lanterns actually look like lanterns now?

Riddle: That's because we now have the added information that those lights are higher in the sky than the mountain line.

Riddle: In what we had depicted prior to this, there was no context clues to inform us that the dark blue portion of the drawing was the sky.

Riddle: That's why Deuce could see streetlights, or headlights.

Riddle: After all, abstract art can be viewed differently based on the person.

Jack: …I get it. Everyone understands that mountains are large, tall objects that are firmly on the ground.

Jack: So that's why just by drawing a mountain, we can conclude that the dark blue area is the sky, and that those lights are flying.

Deuce: Huh, what, you drew that without knowing that?

Jack: It's not like I get art or anything.

Jack: For me, it was just that I'm used to seeing scenery that's got mountains in the background. Whenever I look up at the sky, they're just always there in my field of vision…

Jack: So I just thought that maybe the reason why our painting felt like it was missing something was because it needed mountains, is all.

Riddle: Ah yes, you have mentioned that you come from the Shaftlands.

Riddle: That region is rather mountainous. This could only have been conceived by someone who sees mountainous landscapes on a more familiar basis.

Riddle: You also drew the light of the lanterns quite well. I marvel at your powers of observation, Jack.

Riddle: Perhaps I would do well to spend more time looking into things that are not just textbooks and reference books.

Kalim: Hey, Jack. You got any more good ideas?

Kalim: It's already lookin' so much better than before! So let's try and make it even more awesome!

Jack: Any more ideas…? Hmm, what if we drew trees on the mountain?

Jack: The colors'll be darker, 'cause it'll be more in the shadows, but I think that'll brighten the lighter colors more.

Kalim: Okay. Then I'll draw some trees around here.

Deuce: I'll draw them over here.

Riddle: I'll do the same here. Since Jack drew the mountain, we should pitch in and draw all the trees.

Riddle: Kalim, Deuce. Let us finalize this drawing with this.

Kalim/Deuce: Yeah! / Yes, sir!

[paint, paint]

Jack: …Looks like I got nothing to do, now. Guess I'll start putting away the paint we used up.

[clatter, clatter]

Jack: …......

[FLASHBACK]

Kalim: Yeah! The lanterns are really flying in the air! That's amazing, Jack!

[FLASHBACK]

Deuce: Yeah, I see it now that you mention it… I think I can definitely understand why the Princess of the Tower would've longed to see them.

[FLASHBACK]

Riddle: You also drew the light of the lanterns quite well. I marvel at your powers of observation, Jack.

Jack: Never thought there'd come the day I'd be getting showered in compliments just for drawing something.

Jack: …Right! Let's keep this up, and find our way out of here!

Requested by @farfalla049.

[pandoa]

since childhood!!

you meet as childhood friends

~feat. twst housewardens~ ~twisted wonderland x gender neutral reader~

warnings: reader is not yuu/prefect and is different for each imagine to fit the setting of the boys (ex: reader is fae in malleus', merfolk in azul's, etc.)

if you want more childhood-like fics, i wrote one with ace and jack linked here!

♡the child you meet at a playground and never see again♡

Riddle Rosehearts couldn’t even remember how or when you had joined him, Trey, and Che’nya in their daily time playing outside the nearby neighborhood. He just knew that once he had stepped outside that day—sneaking out of his home during his study time—you, a strange, new child, had been mindlessly throwing a ball to Trey, giggling in the process. Any outsider passing by could have sworn you‘d already known the young trio for years. Odd, but the boy found himself not objecting to your time spent with him and his friends. You were somehow very comfortable to speak with, and Riddle couldn’t help but find your playfulness intriguing.

“Ha! I win again!” you jumped up and cheered with Trey and Che’nya sitting in a small circle as all three of you held up your hands in exhilaration. 

“Congratulations,” Trey said, returning a proud smile. Resting on a grass-filled hill, the three of you helped yourselves to pass the time with a simple game that lasted longer than expected, if you all were to be honest. Riddle—insisting to only observe for the round—caught sight of the way your competitiveness mixed with Trey’s insightfulness and Che’nya’s natural wit. It was interesting. The way you easily conversed with everyone despite only meeting hours ago, he means.

“Hey, red-head!” you then called out to the young boy watching from afar, “Do you wanna play now? I can teach you the basics; It’s really just a hand game.”

Riddle contemplated for a second until walking closer to join the group, “... I suppose I’ll join.”

“Great!” you beamed, “The game’s called Concentration. Basically, we pick a category and all four of us have to go around taking turns saying a word that matches that specific category. Like if it was, for example, colors, then we all could say things like blue, orange, red—you get the gist of it.”

A nod then came from the red-headed child who was now seated next to you.

“The catch, though,” you continued, “is that you cannot at all hesitate when it’s your turn. So no pausing before speaking. This game’s supposed to be quick and fast. Got it?”

“I’m sure I do—?”

“Good! Let’s start.” With a swift clap of your palms, the game had begun as Riddle was practically pushed into the game with your excitement. Truthfully, he had not the faintest clue as to what he had been doing, but he supposed there was no harm in simply trying, yes? 

“Hmmm, the category for this round, then, would be…” you squinted your eyes, appearing to be deep in thought, “Desserts! Go!”

“Vanilla cake,” Trey began.

“Truffles~” sang Che’nya.

“Strawberry tarts,” Riddle quickly replied.

“Crap!”

Crap?

“All this dessert talk made me remember that my parents wanted me to turn off the oven before ever going out! They’re really gonna kill me this time, I just know it!” you panicked as you suddenly explained your predicament, scrambling from the ground to get back up on your feet, “I gotta go, guys! Bye!”

“And don’t think any of you won just yet! It’s a draw until I say so!” you hollered out to the three boys as you left each of them bewildered and confused. Now only being able to see the back of your running form, Riddle found that, just as you had first met them that day, you had similarly disappeared with a clap of your hands like a ghost of a light at midnight.

Riddle wondered if he’d ever see you again. Sevens, he didn’t even get to catch your name.

♡the friend you sneak out with♡

“Why are you so slow? Get moving! I’ve seen sloths move faster than you, dumbo.”

The young Leona Kingscholar, having heard the ceaseless comments coming from your also young form, gave you a classic deadpan only he could display so perfectly within the empty gardens of the Kingscholar palace. No soul had been there as the only living creatures that remained were the critters chirping their music into the night and breeze of the gardens speaking back with delicacy. That, and everyone else within the grandiose palace had been rooms away, probably swaying to whatever music the Kingscholars had orchestrated for the ball that would take place that day. 

“Yeah, well why don’t you quiet down a bit, hm? You’re hurting my eardrums,” the boy replied, rubbing his left ear in annoyance. For the amount of times you both had snuck off with each other, Leona had thought you would have caught on to the main rule of sneaking out: remaining as quiet as possible until it was safe to speak. 

You’ve gotta be kidding me, the chocolate-haired boy thought.

Playfully poking at his side, you began an attempt to tease him even just for a little bit, “Aw, does the little kitty not like it when he hears my oh-so-wonderful voice?”

“Yeah. It’s obnoxious.”

“Hey—!”

“Shhhh!” Leona, albeit quite swiftly, suddenly placed a firm hand against your mouth, causing you both to halt in place behind an unassuming stone wall, “I think the guards are coming…”

Your heart began to race with anticipation. If the palace guards had managed to catch you two escaping a chance to socialize at a royal event, you would never hear the end of it from your families. “... Do you hear them?” a worried whisper mumbled from your nervous figure.

“Mhm, could you keep watch over here?” the boy said as he bent down on his knees, concealing himself whilst facing the other direction, “I’ll go look on the other side.”

Trusting your dear—and sometimes reliable—friend, you peeked your head out from the wall, keeping watch just as Leona said to do. The gardens had been practically deserted; a stillness in the way the gentle wind blew past the branches had almost convinced you that there was, indeed, no one there. 

Was he just… seeing things? you questioned. But your beastman friend would never, right? His senses were probably a thousand times more intuitive than yours. He’d never make such an obvious mistake.

“Uhm, Leona? I don’t think I see any—” you started as your small hand reached out to tap the boy, but not without noticing the way he had been draped against the wall, seemingly knocked-out unconscious as a barely even noticeable drop of drool spilled from his snoring mouth.

“Leona, you lazy wimp!!”

♡the friend you see at one specific place♡

“Are you done yet?”

“No, (Y/n), I am not,” a young octopus-like boy stated as he simultaneously juggled numerous books and papers on all ten of his limbs, particularly focused on the words written on each page. He sat on his own within a shadow-crested octopus pot and looked as if he had not come out of the pot in ages, you observed. Concerning, but nothing new, you thought. “And I won’t be done until far later,” he said, scrunching his face together, “What do you want?”

You mindlessly began poking at a piece of coral, paying no mind to the boy’s slight sass to his tone. “Nothing~ I just thought I could find you here. Turns out I was right.” You watched as Azul helped himself to another book from his rather tall pile, closing another to add to his collection. “Studying again, I see,” a knowing look then escaped your form as your eyes lit with a teasing shine, “Plotting something against me, Azul?”

“I wouldn’t rule out the possibility,” he replied halfheartedly, “Especially if you keep coming here to disturb me.”

You exclaimed, feigning offense, “Never! I’m simply keeping you company.” The boy then peered up to you as you swam closer to him, reminiscing the earlier days of your friendship. “I still remember the first time I saw you here, crying on your own. The growth you’ve had since that day really is admirable—“

“Enough,” Azul shot you an annoyed glare, “It was already unfortunate for you to first meet me as tears welled from my eyes; there’s no need to sugarcoat the memory.”

Jumping at Azul’s assumptions, you worriedly began to amend any insecurities that struck the young boy beside you. “I’m not sugarcoating anything! And crying in front of me that day was nothing to be ashamed of. If I hadn’t heard your voice coming from the pot, I would’ve never come back here each day, let alone know of your existence in the first place.” You let your palm reach forward to hold his—quite soft—face, allowing your innocent touch to spread to him. “You have grown. But it’s okay to cry too, okay?”

“Alright,” Azul mumbled, face still remaining in your small hands. “Anyway,” he continued as he pulled away from your arms, “do you plan on returning home soon? Your family may worry.”

“No, it’s fine,” you shrugged as a soft ocean current moved past the locks of your hair, “I’ll stay here.”

“You don’t have to—“

“I want to.”

Azul had gazed back at you, almost stunned. “If that is what you wish, then be my guest,” he complied.

You then gave him a gentle smile, “Of course.”

♡the friend you find when you are lost♡

“(Y/n)~! Wait for me!” Kalim said, hollering out to your speeding figure under the golden glow of the Scalding Sands as shadows of the plentiful buildings stretched out with the lowering evening sun. What time it exactly was, you did not know. All you had known was that there was still an ample amount of time for you and your new friend, Kalim, to explore the world around you—seeing as the young boy was just as excited as you.

“The town waits for no one, Kalim! It was made for adventure!” you shouted back behind you, almost leaving the white-haired boy for the dust if he had not caught up sooner. “If there’s one thing you should know about this place, it’s that! Or…” a thoughtful pause then cut between your rambles as you stopped in your tracks, “That’s what my grandparents always tell me, at least. Who knows.”

Kalim—who was now standing beside you—then gave you a grin that could send rays of sunshine to shame with its brightness, “Jamil always tells me to never venture to the town, though; maybe he just doesn’t know the kinds of fun that await here!”

“Eh, I know I’ve never met the kid,” warily, your hand began to reach for your other in concern for your newfound companion, “but this Jamil dude doesn’t sound too… fun.”

“Of course he is, he’s my friend!”

“I know he is, but look at us!” you said as you threw your arms up in the air, exclaiming, “We just met today after I saw you wandering off into Sevens knows where, but we still have fun! Jamil, on the other hand, sounds like he stops you from any kind of fun. What kinda friend does that?”

Kalim, still seeming to be unfazed by your concerns as he let out a laugh, shot you his millionth smile of that day, “He means well!”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” you muttered. “Anyway, enough of that! There’s this really cool area in the alleyways I know that’s perfect for—”

“Kalim!” an unknown voice was then heard not too far from the both of you, “Where have you been?!”

“Jamil! There you are!” the young boy to your left called out to the voice as the mysterious figure treaded closer and closer—but not without you tensing up with caution. “This is my new friend—” Kalim started, cheerily pointing towards you.

“I deeply apologize, but there’s just no more time to waste,” the unknown figure, who you now saw had long locks of dark hair, paid no mind to you as he fretted over your giggling friend, “You’re lucky our families haven’t realized you were gone just yet or I’d never hear the end of it. Come, now. We have to get back quickly.”

“Oh, okay!” Kalim swiftly replied as he waved back enthusiastically to you, “I’ll see you again, (Y/n)!”

Yelling your final goodbyes, you saw as the forms of the two children around your age hastily walked back to wherever their home resided, silhouettes following after with the sky setting in front of them. 

Although despite the day concluding on its own, you never could understand why Kalim’s friend, Jamil, was so protective over him. Sure, you thought, the young boy could be a tad oblivious at times—that you could admit—but going so far as to act as a caretaker for the boy as opposed to being a friend? It’s not like Kalim was the son of a very impactful family that needed protection. He’s just a normal kid for Seven’s sake!

Right?

♡childhood rivals♡

Vil Schoenheit had had enough.

Why out of all the students who attended this dance studio, he had to be partnered with you? The young boy had always thought this, what with you two being dance partners despite the clear friction between the both of you since he could remember. The only reason Vil had ever found himself tolerating it was because of the sole fact of your dance instructor’s judgment. You were talented, he reluctantly admitted. And rehearsing with you out of all people would only benefit his own skills in the arts if he ever wished to get anywhere with his strive for perfection.

The pursuit of beauty knows no bounds, Vil thought as he adjusted the strap stabilizing his dance shoes. 

“Vil!” a familiar—but scour inducing—voice then intruded on the boy’s preparation as he turned his face to look at your a-little-too-cheery-for-his-taste form. “It’s so nice to see that you’ve made it to today’s lesson! I remember you were absent last week because of an important commercial shooting, yes? We all missed your…” you halted yourself, unnecessarily emphasizing your words as if to discredit the compliments coming from your mouth, “treasured talent.”

Vil scoffed at your empty sweetness. “I’m sure you did, (Y/n).” The young actor tilted his chin up as if to search for his own thoughts while doing his best to cover the glare he dearly wished to give you at that moment, “Although, you’ll be out next week too, correct? I hear you’ve been casted in a children’s show as a special guest.” The blond-haired child then turned back to the straps of his shoes, mumbling to himself, “... That I also had auditioned for.” 

Feigning ignorance to his bitterness, you continued carrying on the conversation with your precious dance partner—relishing the way he stared at you with envy at your obtained role in the process. “Ah, yes. Well, as you know, showbiz is showbiz, Schoenheit. Not all of us will get what we want,” you gave him a smile he could only read as a way to anger him even more. “Perhaps we’ll both be casted next time. That would be wonderful, would it not?”

“Indeed.”

A single clap from your instructor was enough for the entire studio to grow quiet, signaling the start of class as students began rushing to their places, “Alright, class, it’s time to begin! Places!”

You gave your partner a final grin as the room was filled with music to go with your warm up, “Don’t trip today, Schoenheit.”

“As if I ever would, (L/n).”

♡online friends who’ve never met♡

With technology constantly surrounding him, it was only natural for Idia to have met you in the online world. Where else would a shut-in like himself find some sort of social interaction he'd actually be willing to be a part of?

Gloomurai: korie! u wanna hop on midnite l8ter? live event drops tday

korie66: ayooooo korie66: im down. lez do it >:)

Gloomurai: nice Gloomurai: korie and gloomurai back at it again

Although, he supposed he didn't really know you. Sure, he knew the artificially curated version you would introduce yourself as within the chat logs on public servers. But he had never known the "IRL" version of you, let alone your real name. Still—Idia thought as he sat in front of his blue and black gaming set-up, monitor displaying another game he'd binge that night—it was still nice having a buddy to play numerous games with. A kid like him who had the same interests. A kid who also found freedom within the internet.

korie66: YOOOOOOO GLOOMURAI korie66: GET ON MAGITROPICA RN

Gloomurai: wht? y?

korie66: FREE STUFF

Gloomurai: DONT HAVE TO TELL ME TWICE

Both of your days were spent trading the best items, sharing tips for a new game level, or even just chatting for the fun of it. Each night Idia had even found himself eagerly shuffling to his room, shutting the door behind him, and turning on his PC just to make it in time for your scheduled co-ops.

Eventually, you and Idia had found yourselves much more open with one another as well; a certain kind of trust that could only form with the number of years you had played together. What was the point in finding real-life friends, the young Idia thought as he snagged a bag of chips to eat while playing with you, if he had you to spend time with instead? One friend was all he needed, and you filled that roll perfectly!

Gloomurai: YESSSSSESEES LETS GOOOOO

korie66: NICE GOING GLOOMI~~ WE TOTALLY BEAT THAT LAST BOSS LEVEL LMAO

Gloomurai: YEAH Gloomurai: FR THE BEST DUO

korie66: I SWEAR IM NEVER DITCHING U, GLOOMI korie66: CANT DO ANYTHING W/O YOU LOL

Gloomurai: U BETTER NOT HAAHAHAHAJ

This was all he needed. Your friendship was all he needed.

Idia—now a third year student and housewarden at Night Raven College—sighed as he closed the latest game he'd been playing, cracking his back as he stretched like cat waking up from a deep sleep. Determining it was far too early for bedtime, however, the young man had decided it was a good hour to clear out his PC's memory. It was about time. It had been a while.

Scrolling and deleting through file and files, memories, and unused downloads, Idia had found nothing of importance to him and trashed everything in his path. That is, until he spotted a familiar chat log that read UNSTOPPABLE DUO hidden deep within his message history.

The Ignihyde housewarden gazed at the chat name he knew all too well. A certain feeling then began to rise within his chest as his hand subconsciously guided his mouse towards the familiar icon of your profile picture, still the same as it was years ago.

This is a really bad idea, Idia voiced in his mind. Yet, despite being against his own actions, Idia watched as his own hand clicked your name—only to spot a sea of red text blaring through the screen as he peered at the pixels of his computer:

korie66: Last Active 10 years ago. . .

Idia slumped over in his chair at the text, dejected, "I don't know why I even tried."

Shutting off his monitor, the blue-haired boy then stood from his chair and begrudgingly marched back to his bed, concluding his late night. He hadn't known what he was even expecting, at that point. He'd long knew of your inactivity; it's not like he didn't know what he'd see.

It really was just a shame you never had a chance to meet each other, Idia thought. He supposed, though, that some people were never meant to truly remain friends, to remain together.

And you were no exception to that.

♡the friend you meet by accident♡

“OH SEVENS NOT AGAIN—”

“Hm?” Malleus, who had been peacefully reading a book during his break from his studies, suddenly peered up from his spot in the palace gardens at the alarming shouts coming from the sky. It had been a relatively clear afternoon; one with few clouds in the atmosphere and very few birds soaring above, which only left the young fae even more curious at the panicking screams he could catch from his place beside the flower beds. Gently placing his now discarded book down to the grass, Malleus then made his way closer to the figure as a blur of (h/c) fell from the sky and into a nearby bush.

Thud! 

“Ugh, I knew trying that spell would be a total fail,” the figure, who Malleus could now make out as a fae child around his age, dwelled as they rubbed a couple bruises on their arms, healing themselves. “I guess this is what happens when I don’t listen to Mother, but—"

“Ahem,” Malleus cleared his throat, finally gaining the child’s attention.

“AAAHHH—” you screamed again, only this time with shock at the sight of another living being around you. “Gosh, don’t scare me like that! What if my magic went all kapooey on you?! What would happen then?” you scolded the rather tall boy as you stood up from your previously injured state—skin now pristine due to your magic.

“Hm…” the dark-haired boy before you contemplated your words, “Then I suppose going ‘kapooey’ wouldn’t be very good for me, correct?”

“Exactly! I’m glad we’re on the same page.” You turned your body away from the boy as you inspected your dirt-stained clothes, wincing at the rips caused from your fall into the bush. “I don’t even want to imagine what Mother would do to me if she found out I’d harmed another fae—another child at that, too! Although,” your eyes then followed up the fae’s face and pointed its attention straight towards the two black horns resting atop his head, “you do look a bit different than me… Where are we right now?” No other fae from where you were from had any such horns like his; you were sure of it! You must’ve landed in another land other than your own, if that were the case.

But where, exactly? You thought.

“Briar Valley,” the horned-boy swiftly replied, “The palace, to be exact.”

“Briar Valley?! I must have traveled further than I thought, then!” a frazzled exclaim escaped your mouth as you struggled with your hands to prepare whatever spell had gotten you there in the first place. “I have to go right away! So sorry for intruding, uh…” a hesitant pause ensued as you held out a hand to the child, signaling an introduction from him.

“Malleus. My name is Malleus,” he softly gave you a smile.

You returned his smile with a grin of your own, shaking his hand, “Right. Thank you, Malleus. I’m (Y/n).”

“It was no issue.”

And with your final goodbyes to the fae you’d just met, Malleus then stood and followed your form as you disappeared to Sevens know where. The only remnants left of your presence were the gold, sparkling specs of magic that remained after you casted your spell, filling the palace garden with dust that resembled stars scattered throughout the greenery. Malleus, at the sight of your magic, had then begun to wonder just where you had come from and why you had landed there that day as quickly as you left. 

The chances of seeing you again were slim. Still, however…

“(Y/n),” Malleus had whispered to himself.

“A lovely name for a fae such as themselves, yes?”

a/n: ALL IN FAVOR FOR MORE RIVAL READER X VIL SAY AYEE-AYEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

god this was such a nightmare to finish iM SO GLAD I PULLED THROUGH THO I FR GAVE UP HALFWAY ESPECIALLY WITH IDIA'S-

[tapwater118]

tpot 17 spoilers here's what i thought of it lalalala

overall very good episode!! not the *best* ever episode but not every episode can be. it was very silly and fun and also what the fuck is happening

this eliminations played out how i most expected it to, i like pillow and yellow face is alright i guess but it was definitely their times to go. love how pencil freaked out for a hot second over having the most votes (again) i knew they would do that they are so evil for it. I LOVED BOTTLE'S LITTLE DOODLES of course she draws 2018 cute boots and mouth good for her

speaking of bottle was such a fun host! the "everything she does takes literal days" thing was a bit overused but i'm glad they stopped doing that once the challenge started. nice little subtle bit of character-building for four given how he was seemingly happy with bottle taking over. bro cares more about cooking than hosting now i can respect the growth and progression

the challenge itself was a very neat idea, splitting up the teams like this is a very good way to get new groups of characters to interact who wouldn't have otherwise. i thought for a second when bottle shuffled everyone around that we were getting ANOTHER team swap and nearly screamed lmao. but yeah super funny how the eating contest objects where all chill with each other (for the most part) but everyone else was at each other's throats the whole time lmao

pencil. oughhhhh pencil. i am ill. i dont really think pen was the best choice to talk to her at the end but to be fair the options were pretty limited given that everyone else was either MIA or book. the bookcil scene was awesome yes girlie get ANGRY unleash your RAGE. i think it would have been a bit more impactful if they didn't have fanny going basically "erm, awkward!" right in the middle of it but yeah good food i am fed

oh my god what has happened to one's room. has gaty torn through there like a feral animal or something or was this all the product of one's own frustration. given how she fucking mutilates donut i wouldn't discount the latter possibility. also six is plot relevant what, and purple face is gonna lead them to the EXIT and then (theory time) one's gonna use that group to get three out of the fourtress for. something. idk yet but things are happening

individual challenges lightning round go! circus circumstances is amazing i love slasher tacks, love evil tv arc they should have him Kill more. ferris wheel was kinda whatever but i love how they're bringing back snowball's old relationships with certain characters, particularly gb and pen. THE FOURSE IS BACK I LOVE YOU FOURSE not much else to say i didn't already cover in the previous section. eating contest was fun they leaked price tag's search history (and loser got cancelled lmao). winner felt appreciated i need to kiss them what who said that

wow i had a lot to say about this one huh, forty minute episodes will do that to ya. elimination predictions: grassy is almost certainly out, the team 2 votes (aside from icy's) were really close last time so it really depends on where the icy voters' votes will go now, and just by fandom reaction i can tell you it will not be grassy. for 🎼 i'm less sure but i can certainly say bottle and pen are safe, they were all over this episode they got so much to do. i think it might be liy or tb as much as i hate to say it, they kinda got sidelined in their challenges

ok uhh tpot 18 or 19 will probably be a meetup episode so i'll be able to see it before the rest of you HAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[bonefall]

Hi! How would you draw a tool-evolved cat paw?

Aeons ago I wrote some speculative biology thoughts on what a tool-focused cat would begin to look like, and mentioned the way that a caw's paw might evolve. I can try to draw it out as a sketch; but fair warning that I put my art style points into cartoony anime stuff SO you're not gonna get a realistic drawing lmao

Evolution doesn't "think." It's many changes over generations that snowball into bigger ones. So I tried to look at WHAT exactly is happening between an animal with less sophisticated tool use (chimp) and one that COMPLETELY relies on tools (human) to predict where the cat's paw would end up in a few thousand generations.

Please note! My paw would still be a "link" between the ancestor, and something even more reliant on tool use. This proposed species would still be 100% capable of doing what the cats in-canon do, like hunt alone. It's for a feline species that is tool-ADAPTED, not tool-RELIANT.

(In that way, it's more comparable to, say, a lemur and a chimp. But lemur palm refs were hard to find and I did this quick because I've already thought about it.)

This paw would exist in-tandem with a "tool tooth;" A V-shaped gap in the jawline that a single fang would nestle into. Early tool-using felines would likely use their mouth to "break" or "shear" their crafts, leading to broken teeth that would make them less successful. So there would be a lot of evolutionary pressure to have better, stronger teeth.

Evolution doesn't do "one thing at a time," so if you happened to port yourself into a group of these cats and watch them craft stuff, you'd see them using their mouths as well as their paws!

Finger Size + Tool Claw

When you see real cats batting stuff around and manipulating things, and when you look at canon where they like to "hook things on a claw," it's usually the index "finger" they favor. In fact, they do a LOT of "poking," even when a cat bats at something they seem to mostly explore with the tip of their paw.

So I figure that would actually be a big difference between this species and humans.

Unlike us, who usually have our middle finger as the longest (though there are exceptions) so we can "stabilize" the things we grab, I'd give these guys a "Tool Claw" which is not involved in grappling at all. It's longer, more deeply grooved, but also more fragile than the "hunting" claws.

When at rest, the Tool Claw would stick out from the rest of the foot, straight upwards. The fur is able to "sheathe" the other three, but the index's would be too long to be fully hidden.

Because one of those fingers is now mostly taken out of combat, the pinkie would probably thicken up to compensate. Another difference from the human hand. I can imagine that if the trend continues, they might end up supporting their full frontal weight on the pinkie pad to free up the other fingers for tool use.

(But evolution's not always predictable! They might end up becoming more "back heavy" like raccoons, or rely on the invention of shoe/gloves, or just abandon silent hunting all together to become tool-reliant.)

Paw Pad Changes

Cats use the pads on their paws to move silently. As long as the species is relying on silently stalking prey, they will need to have these pads in contact with the ground to be good hunters.

So instead of the digital pads sliding down to create the "top" of the palm, I figured the metacarpal pad would split in two. So now there's a snug, dipped "shape" with which they could nestle an object into as they work with it, but also there is ALWAYS still pad in contact with the ground.

The amount of fur in-between the bottom (metacarpal) and top (supercarpal) pads probably just depends on culture and genetics. It wouldn't really have enough of an impact on the paw to be selected for to be furry or hairless.

I can imagine some groups being weird about it and thinking it should be shaved or braided or something, lmao. Or cats who live in muddy environments clipping it for hygiene reasons.

[spiritsglade]

for the character ask game i would loooove to hear you go off about essence :))

[character ask game!!]

oh birdie you knew exactly what you were doing when you sent this in didn't you.

My first impression

I think I probably ran into her first in fic but I don't actually remember anything in that regard. First impression with the comic was that this was a character with a pretty design but somewhat... confusing of a storyline.

My impression now

God her canon portrayal is so annoying and inconsistent I SWEAR. Jason and her misunderstanding and misinterpretating what's going on and immediately jumping to kill each other has happened EVERY TIME and what is the point!!! Her backstory and motivations are so opaque and the flashbacks to their time together in the All-Caste keep on dangling the promise of an interesting story in front of me and then not delivering. Lobdell and Tynion IV when I GET YOU--

However I've thought about her too much and now I have brainworms. She is the side character I have adopted as my own. I understand her better than her creators ever will <3 (I have extrapolated a lot of conclusions from like 3 panels out of all her appearances. It is working out for me.)

Favorite thing about that character

The concept for her character. Particularly as a daughter to Ducra and one of the original Untitled. The fact she's been banished from the All-Caste apparently for not being willing to give up her "dark powers" when Ducra did? That's so interesting to me. It could be such a good parallel to how Jason's moral code causes a rift between him and Bruce. Tell me more. Lobdell you will surely explore this further, won't you? Lobdell aren't you gonna-- LOBDELL

Least favorite thing

Can I complain about Lobdell again. I will not. Instead I will complain about how her little like... intro narration box? You know the thing where comics will give you a little line to tell you who a character is if you don't know them already. Hers is that she's the "last human descendant of the All-Caste" which is just WRONG? She is the DAUGHTER OF THE UNTITLED. She is like, objectively not human at this point. JASON is the last human descendant of the All-Caste, maybe. Y'know, the first human they've taken in in over a century and the first in millennia to survive a cleansing? Y'know, that guy?? Also she literally reinstated the All-Caste at this point in the timeline why are we calling her the last human descendant. She's literally they're leader right now. I'm so mad I'm so mad I'msofmkgekmreklgm

Also I really don't like that her Blood Blades draw only the blood of the guilty or whatever like it does to Artemis in RH:O #45. Or the whole capturing souls thing in #35. I hate it I hate it I hate it girl please go back to fighting people with your smoke magic.

Favorite line/scene

I overall think the scene in RH:O #35 was bad but I do particularly like her lines here.

I have never wanted to lead the All-Caste... I am a soldier. Heart and soul.

Oh girl. Girl you are never escaping the legacy of your mother. Ignore the fact that Ducra is literally still alive even though we established that she died in the first issue and her ghost vanished back in RHatO v1 #27 I'm not mad.

Favorite interaction that character has with another

Her fight with Kori in RHatO v1 #22

I think using Tamaranean tech like this is very clever!! Essence is immortal, ancient, and very powerful, but alien tech was also a weakness for her back in Issue #7 and I think that's a nice touch.

Also the fact that Kori literally summoned her to try to talk and help Jason and they end up trying to kill each other for several pages is so funny to me. Like. In the next volume Essence also fights Artemis and possesses Isabel like... girl are you jealous that he's seeing other women? Is that what this is?

I think the thing with the amnesia arc where all of Jason's friends were trying to help him from different angles and with incomplete information and in the process fucked over each other's attempts forever could have been really interesting if written well.

Close runner-up:

Right before this Essence says:

We need to talk, Mother. About the great darkness that looms over all that lives. About a mistake you must at long last rectify.

It's giving the "I think we're gonna have to kill that guy" meme to me. And that was entertaining. These are the depths I need to sink to find hope.

A character that I wish that character would interact with more

ISABEL ARDILA. Genuinely fucking impressive that Lobdell managed to write them literally sharing the same body and have them not interact at all. I don't even know how he did it. He deserves an award. How does Isabel feel about this arrangement? How does Essence feel?? Like Issy you chose on purpose to pick up the sword again and keep letting Essence use your body in RH:O #49. Let's talk about that--no we're not going to? We have to move on and do Duela's arc and Red Hood: The Hill now? Oh. Oh okay. That's fine then.

Anyway I think they could turn the bodysharing into a beautiful symbiotic relationship if they tried. Essence/Isabel as a ship is slept on I swear.

Another character from another fandom that reminds me of that character

Jerboa III/Boa from Wings of Fire. Her mother (Jerboa I) was an animus (basically a dragon that can do whatever magic except raise the dead) who created her and then basically kept editing her personality and existence for like 2,000 years so she could have the ideal daughter. Obviously this is very fucked up. Eventually Boa catches onto this, betrays Jerboa I and kills her, but not before Jerboa I curses her. We don't talk about what happened to Jerboa II. (We know that she "went wrong" and Jerboa I "disposed of" her.)

Do you see the vision. Ducra implanting "pure life" in Essence's body. Banishing her when Essence railed against what Ducra wanted for her. Essence's entire life being dedicated to this fight against the Untitled. Like we are very much getting into headcanon territory with Essence when I make this connection but Boa manages to escape her mother and also the entire fucked up legacy of animus magic and I think that is lovely for her. Manifesting that for Essence.

She's also Hornet from Hollow Knight just a little bit. To me.

A headcanon about that character

She is more headcanon than actual canon substance to me at this point. Um. She has mommy issues re: Ducra. Her banishment from the All-Caste was because Essence refused to purge the "dark magic" (The essence of the Well of Sins she carried in her, the bond that tied her to the other Untitled that Ducra had long cleansed from herself.) They'd been having disagreements since the beginning of time that just happened to be what finally made it boil over. I'm still a little vague on this but I think Ducra setting up the All-Caste and the truce with the Untitled had some long term negative consequences for the world (like how in RHatO #5 the Untitled in Middleton, Colorado had the townspeople under its thrall). Essence doesn't want to spend the rest of eternity waiting for the day the Untitled inevitably decide to take over the world, but Ducra is all 'this is your duty' about it. Also remember that the Untitled are Ducra's siblings and Essence's aunts/uncles.

Anyway Jason's admittance into the All-Caste was the trigger for Essence acting out against Ducra properly for the first time. Him being this fresh new perspective so hellbent on vengeance really helped her realize that she wanted more from her life than to be another soldier in Ducra's war against her siblings.

Do you see the parallels I'm shoving in here between her and Jason. I am just saying.

A song that reminds of that character

Alas I must expose myself as a non-music listener. I'm sorry. Random Gods from the Rain World soundtrack that's the best I can do.

An unpopular opinion about that character

Honestly I don't think anyone cares about her enough for there to be popular opinions but uhh. I think this panel is incorrect about her and Jason's relationship.

Boy and girl are always there for each other.

Are they? Are they??? God I wish they were. Goddammit.

Anyway. I think Essence building the All-Caste was actually the most boring fucking direction to take her character but I can't even be that mad because she was barely a coherent character to begin with. However, her recruiting for the All-Caste... where the fuck is she gonna get these recruits for this secret old as time warrior monk sect?? Why exist at all when all the Untitled are allegedly wiped out (i.e. the entire reason the All-Caste existed in the first place)?? Escape from the shadow of your family's legacy come onnn Essence you can do it I believe in you!!! AUGH.

Favorite picture

Shoutout to RH:O #35 for having some really pretty panels of her.

ANYWAY THAT'S IT FOLKS. If you actually read all of my inane ramblings, um. Thanks! I'm normal about Essence.

[coimbrabertone]

Offtopic Offseason #5 - CoimbraBertone and the Indiana Jones Blogpost.

So, I watched the first three Indiana Jones movies for the first time these last few weeks. Those being Raiders of the Lost Ark, Temple of Doom, and The Last Crusade. Also, before that, I was watching my friend Andy play through the video game, Indiana Jones and the Great Circle. I have thoughts.

Plus, the Super Bowl was last weekend and that's kinda an unavoidable black hole devouring anything else that could've happened that weekend, so there isn't much racing news to discuss right now.

Indycar aired some commercials during it which hopefully draw people in, but until we get to St. Pete for the first race, it's hard to say how effective they were.

So, onto Indiana Jones.

I liked them. Raiders of the Lost Ark and Last Crusade are both great movies, Temple of Doom isn't as good, but it still has plenty of iconic moments and I enjoyed it well enough.

My first impression was honestly...wow, I've seen so much references to this stuff. Like there were moments I knew were from Indiana Jones, like the giant boulder chasing Indy, opening the Ark and it melting the Nazi faces, and the minecart chase from Temple, but there other things I didn't realize.

Like in Family Guy, Road to Germany, they do the whole escape the plane in a raft thing, with Stewie even making fun of one of Willie's lines. I didn't know that was from Indiana Jones. The motorcycle chase in that episode is probably a reference to Last Crusade as well, albeit a bit less 1 to 1.

So yeah, iconic movies that I've seen referenced a lot, and now I finally understand those references.

So, Raiders of the Lost Ark...

I liked Belloq as a villain. His Egypt clothes with the way his hair looked kept making me think of Alain Prost even though objectively he doesn't look all that much like Prost, but there's where my brain went. I like that he's a different kind of evil than the Nazis around him - he doesn't have a cause, he's just self-interested and wants to get one over on Jones - but he is still very much evil.

Toht is another fun character because he's just so ridiculous. The coat hanger scene made me burst out laughing.

Colonel Dietrich is probably the flattest of the villains, but I get that they needed more of a straight-up Wehrmacht guy to be the direct threat that neither Belloq nor Toht could really be.

As for the heroic characters, I have to admit, with everything I heard about Marion from watching the game and reading up on the movies a bit, she is not at all what I was expecting. For some reason I kinda thought she was gonna be a non-action rich girl who is the daughter of a rich gentleman type - and in fairness, Ravenwood does seem like it would be an old money name - but instead she's a lot more of a rougher and more confrontational character.

And I suppose that is more interesting.

Sallah's fun, John-Rhys Davies has a great voice, and I was happy to see him back in Last Crusade.

Some of the effects are very dated and the sounds - especially the punch sounds - are as well, but it's an old movie so what are you gonna do? I accepted that as a relic of the time and enjoyed the movie in spite of that.

Something dated that's a bit harder to forgive is Temple of Doom.

Let's start with the positives: Lao Che's club is a lot of fun. I think his club is a reused set from Return of the Jedi because with how white and smooth it is, along with the seating bowl we see in one of the shots, it reminds me a lot of the Mon Calamari cruises from Episode VI. I could be wrong about that, but they were filmed a year apart and Lucas literally named it Club Obi-Wan, so I wouldn't be surprised at all if the whole thing is a redressed Star Wars set.

Willie's a bit grating. There's no way around that, I'm sorry.

Short Round though...yeah, he has a few annoying moments, but I actually found him endearing. The ways that he looks up and mimics Indy - sorry, Dr. Jones - are fun, and it's nice to see Indy cares about him too.

The portrayal of India though...oof.

Spielberg and Lucas have apparently said that the whole dinner scene with the eels and eyeballs and monkey brains and all that is supposed to be a ploy to scare off Indy and the British officer dude, but...they did not do a good job of conveying that at all. It just feels like over the top orientalism.

Same thing with the Thuggee cult in general. Mola Ram's costume is all over the place and with his skull helmet off, that red paint on his forehead feels a lot more like the other type of Indian. It's like a storm of foreign culture cliches thrown together at random and it's pretty damn jarring. They even got the Maharaja torturing Indy with a voodoo doll which...okay then, I guess we really are just throwing anything and everything at this, huh?

From what I understand their portrayal of Kali is also completely off.

There's also a lot of brown face in that movie. The late Pat Roach was playing the slavemaster, for instance.

Then making the British Army show up at the end to save Indy & co...sheesh. No wonder this movie got banned in India for awhile.

Still, if you can get past all that and see it as a product of its time, it's a fun enough movie. It's the weakest of the trilogy though.

Onto Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.

Harrison Ford and Sean Connery, what else do you need?

No seriously, that's it. It's good, watch it.

...

...

...

Okay fine, I'll talk about it.

I like this one a lot. I know Raiders is the classic one that everyone loves, but this one might be my favorite.

Venice, Austria, Berlin, Antioch, down to Petra in Jordan...it's a lot of fun set locations and set pieces. I really enjoyed Elsa as the "Indy girl" of this movie, I really enjoyed the banter back and forth between Henry Sr. and Indiana, and I think the Nazis in this movie are just great antagonists.

They look evil as fuck, they have the Hugo Boss fit on fleek, Vogel is a great villain, the modified World War I tank was a great set piece, and we have plenty of old car porn in this one - particularly the old Rolls Royce, which is not, in fact, a Phantom II - so what's not to like?

Well, Donovan probably goes down a bit too easy. I know that these movies are big on the whole villains are destroyed for trying to harness a power they cannot understand, but he does die pretty quickly and pretty stupidly. I guess the Vogel fight was pretty long, so a long Donovan fight probably would've bogged the ending down a lot, but it was a bit disappointing to see him easily duped into killing himself.

Elsa's end, meanwhile, i thought was fitting. She couldn't let go of her obsession, and in the end, the grail's spell got to her. It almost got to Indy too, but then Henry gave him the fatherly love which is what he really wanted. And yeah, that's a bit schlocky, but who cares? it's nice and meaningful.

So yeah, none of them are perfect movies, but I enjoyed them a lot.

The Great Circle fits in among the movies quite nicely, I think. Gina fits as another "Indy girl" and is probably my favorite when adding her in to the classic movies, and Troy Baker does such a great job as Indy that even Harrison Ford gave him his blessing.

Plus ending on karate fighting a Nazi on the top of Noah's Ark is exactly the type of goofy shit these movies would come up with and I mean that in the best way possible.

Oh, one other thing I wanted to yap about: there are a lot of scenes in these movies where the guns are very clearly not firing anything, and again, I get it, old movie, but wow, sometimes it's really obvious. There was a bit in Last Crusade where Indy thrashed around an MP40 that wasn't doing anything, and it straight up took me a second to realize they were trying to show him shooting.

Old movies gonna old movie.

I'm gonna watch the next two movies soon, probably this week, but from what I hear, they're not quite up to snuff. Let me know if you guys want my thoughts, otherwise, this is probably gonna be the last Offtopic Offseason for awhile because it's the Daytona 500 this weekend. They'll be a NASCAR race every weekend from now until November, and once NASCAR starts, the likes of MotoGP, F1, and Indycar aren't far behind.

Looking forward to the Henry Jones Jr.polis 500.

[sheikfangirl]

Since you're the Queen of Puppet Zelda, what are your thoughts on these possible explanations for her level of autonomy?

Is Puppet Zelda merely made of Gloom and acts as a physical extension of Gannondorf himself so he has a set of eyes, ears, and hands that can travel and exert influence outside of his perch in the Depths, but as a higher quality puppet/projection (and therefore more taxing on his power to maintain) than the Gloom Hands and Phantom Gannons? Or is she a separate being entirely, created by him, but given her own agency, mind, and will to make her own decisions, in so far as she's still a slave to doing Gannondorf's bidding? She doesn't need constant effort on his part to control or exist, but would have probably cost him a chunk of his power upfront to create.

Could she be something else?

First, let's rectify one thing: I am NOT the Queen of Puppet Zelda. Puppet Zelda IS MY QUEEN. (But thanks for the compliment, I am blushing over here 🤭)

Secondly, thank you so much for your interest in my HC. I will happily share my thoughts on this criminally underused character that has drama written all over. This is an overview okay because I feel I could write a freakin thesis paper on Puppet Zelda 

Quick note: I am not pretending to be right or to have the absolute truth. This is my headcanon, the backstory in the back of my mind when I draw my Puppet Zelda art.

All headcanons are valid, games are interactive media, and the relationship and connections one has with a game are personal.

As you might know, English is not my first language and  visual support helps me explain things... so I made a graphic. I hope this will help understand my take of this character and why I love her so much🤣🤷‍♀️

In a nutshell:

I think Puppet Zelda is an independent minion created by Ganondorf using his magic powers. He created a shell in Zelda's image from 10 000 years ago to do his bidding and re-used her 10 000 years later to distract Link to buy himself the time to regenerate to full power.

Exhibit A: Ganondorf's Magic

If Ganondorf can spawn a whole list of monsters and gloom hands, he created Puppet Zelda too. The monsters are not continually controlled by Ganondorf, right? They do his bidding, they do what they were "programmed & designed" for, we might even say. I think it's the same for Puppet Zelda. But she is definitely a more defined and complex creation.

Exhibit B: The Hot henchwoman trope

I am not gonna lie: This is one of my very favorite tropes.... EVER! I always fall for the hot henchwomen. Ganon's quote from the glorious Sanctum scene during  the "Crisis at Hyrule Castle" scene makes me absolutely think she is indeed autonomous. "Did my puppet distract you?" Ganondorf asks Link in that chilling and subtext filled scene.

Puppet Zelda had one objective: To distract Link.

Ganon was busy regenerating. Having to control or act through someone would've been too power consuming. I don't buy it's a manifestation of him. AT ALL. so...yeah. hot henchwoman trope. Also, I'm a lesbian and I have no interest whatsoever in Ganondorf.

...HOT HENCHWOMAN TROPE SUPREMACY!! Yep. Fanservice for me.

Exhibit C: Real Zelda's Angst

This is where it's getting twistingly FUN.

This is an HC I assimilated like a borg from my ZHS buddy @kazraza  Her theory is so ***** angsty and delicious and I love it! 

At the time of King Rauru and Queen Sonia, Ganondorf created a pawn with Zelda's appearance so that it could get close to them and attack.

Then, in order to distract Link 10 000 years later, Ganondorf had to "refine" his weapon. He needed "data and real Zelda knowledge" uploaded into Puppet Zelda to ensure her credibility and the success of her mission. He wanted to make sure she could distract Link and trick him. 

And where did all this personal knowledge of Real Zelda's innermost intimate thoughts and insecurities come from, you may ask?

Well from the real Zelda herself of course!!

But when and where was this data collected?

We believe all of Zelda's Angst was leached directly from her during her 100 years mystic battle containing Calamity Ganon in this Malice Cocoon in Breath of the Wild. *GASP* Puppet Zelda was there all along in Breath of the Wild....absorbing all of Zelda's angst!!!

This is why everyone was confused and tricked by Puppet Zelda in TotK. This is why Puppet Zelda asks Link if he remembers their time at Hyrule Castle: she has Zelda's pre-calamity memories and this why Link is so tortured in my art! She can REALLY mess with him big time. I really like to think there is a part of real Zelda inside Puppet Zelda. Her dark side: Her anger, her cockiness, her jealousy, her selfishness... her desire. 

She is also kind of Zelda's answer to Dark Link.

Alright I wrote enough for tonight. To whoever took precious minutes of their lives to read this well...thank you! I am now moving on with my life too 🤣

For more HC about Puppet Zelda, her powers and influences, this should be all covered in future art

(i hope)

Cheers!! And glory to Puppet Zelda ✋

[kirikiss]

Midoriya's Miscalculated Misfortune

🝮 In an attempt to connect with his class, Mr. Midoriya participates in a class training! Will he be able to handle it? 🝮 no warnings. continue reading under the cut. not proofread... I don't even know what this is.

As the class filed into the room, a palpable sense of anticipation filled the air. Izuku stood at the front, eager to share the news. “As some of you may know, today marks your first official training session! You will be paired into groups of three, based on the compatibility of your quirks. Each group will face off against a teacher in a simulated battle scenario. The objective is simple: each of you must secure one flag from your opponent within a ten-minute time limit,” he explained, his tone brimming with enthusiasm.

The room buzzed with murmurs of excitement, the students clearly thrilled at the prospect of training with pro heroes. One student raised her hand, her curiosity piqued. “Which teachers will we be up against?”

“Excellent question,” Izuku replied, smiling. “We have five teachers participating. To ensure fairness, the students who scored the highest on the entrance exam will go first, ensuring the teachers are at their peak performance when sparring with them. This allows everyone to get a fair shot. The teachers you'll be facing are Present Mic, Ectoplasm, Eraserhead, Cementoss, and finally, myself!”

A heavy silence fell over the room, replacing the earlier excitement. Izuku noticed the shift, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion. ‘Strange, I thought they’d be more excited…’

“Mr. Midoriya, are you sure this is the best idea? Ever since… you know,” a student asked hesitantly, concern lacing their voice.

“Yeah, it's like kicking a dog while it's down, isn’t it?” another added, their tone uncertain.

“Should we start drafting apology letters now or wait until after your lesson backfires?” someone muttered under their breath, eliciting a few nervous chuckles.

Izuku, however, remained unfazed. His smile widened as he addressed the class. “Even though I lost my quirk, I’ve never stopped training as if I still had it. I’ll give it my all! I’m ready for whatever challenges you bring!” he declared in his signature happy-go-lucky tone. Maybe his all wasn't enough.

The students made their way to the training grounds, eager to prove themselves to these heroes. First up were three students against Present Mic. Izuku stood in the corner, taking notes on each student's abilities and areas for improvement.

“WOAH HO HO, ARE YOU STUDENTS READY TO ROCK?” Present Mic's voice boomed across the arena. His signature blonde hair spiked as if he'd just held up an umbrella to lightning. He wore a confident grin, his hands on his hips as he surveyed the three students who would be his challengers.

“WoAh ho hO,” one student mocked. “Did Mr. Midoriya put us up against Santa?” another added to the banter. Present Mic saw through their game. “Psyching me out, huh? That’s not gonna work, little ones!”

The three students stood in a loose formation, trying to draw up a plan. One of them tried to offer encouragement. “Hey guys, we got this! Just… try not to let him yell too much.” Easier said than done.

As the battle reached its peak, the students were feeling pretty good about themselves. They had managed to snag two flags, and Present Mic was finally starting to look like he might be sweating—just a little. Sensing victory within reach, they regrouped for one last coordinated assault.

“Okay, this is it! We’re gonna take him down!” a student declared, a confident grin on his face.

Present Mic noticed their determined expressions and couldn’t help but chuckle. “YOU KIDS ARE GREAT, BUT LET’S TURN UP THE VOLUME A NOTCH!” The students braced themselves for another ear-shattering scream or some kind of pitch-based attack. What they did not expect was for him to spin around and amplify a colossal fart.

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?” one student screamed.

“IT SMELLS LIKE LITERAL SHIT! DID YOU POOP YOURSELF?” another shouted in horror.

“WHAT DID YOU EVEN EAT? OH MY GOSH!” a third gagged, clutching their nose.

As Present Mic walked away, he let out a celebratory toot, and the students couldn’t help but notice his pants sagging suspiciously in the back. “THAT’S THE SWEET STENCH OF DEFEAT, KIDS! SMELL YA LATER!” he declared with a grin.

Izuku, watching from the sidelines, was definitely not expecting that. Trying to recover, he addressed the class. “Well, everyone! In hero work, you’ve got to learn to expect the unexpected. Good effort, Group A! I hope this scrimmage helped you understand how to better use your quirks in combat,” he said, giving his evaluations as he prepped for his turn.

A few more groups went before his. Ectoplasm managed to win the scrimmage with no flags being captured. Eraserheads weapon was used against him, allowing the students to capture all his flags. Next in the lineup was Izuku. The three students he faced were pretty strong.

The first female student had the quirk Memory Imprint. She was able to gain knowledge of the item or person she touched, but it only lasted for five minutes. Her plan involved touching Mr. Midoriya. She didn’t have to go for the flag, just attempt to graze him. From then on, she could use her quirk to gain the knowledge Mr. Midoriya was thinking—strategies that were impossible to evade. Using one of his thought-out strategies, she captured a flag without a hitch.

“Good job! You two still have to capture a flag, so don’t hold back!” Izuku encouraged. ‘Easy A,’ the next student thought to himself. His quirk was strength-based. He had an immense amount of power in his punch, and when he wound his arms up, the power amplified. As the other students were busy fighting, he wound up his arm fifty times.

By this time, Izuku was feeling a bit cocky. He had managed to dodge a few hits from the third student, who hadn’t resorted to using her quirk yet. “What’s wrong, Group D? Are you going to let the teacher without a quirk bea—” he was abruptly cut off by an uppercut to the stomach. The hit was so hard that the vibrations made one of his front teeth fall out. He also coughed up a bit of blood.

Ectoplasm, who was still observing the fight, called out in concern, “Hey Midoriya, do you want to call it?”

The fool called back, “No! This is a learning experience. I want to see how strong each of my students are, so let’s continue!” He offered a toothy—or now toothless—grin. ‘A punch like that should've knocked him out. Hell, if that was me, I’d fake faint,’ Ectoplasm thought, replaying the punch in his head.

The student took this as a challenge and decided to up the ante. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned a bed of snow that spread rapidly across the arena. Before Izuku could react, she made it rain. Drenched and now standing on an icy patch, Izuku slipped immediately onto his back, knocking all the air out of him. To be honest, the students were enjoying this a bit more than they wanted to admit. The weathering student went to retrieve her flag. Izuku tried to get up, but his attempts only resulted in failure. The strength-based student wound up his arm ten times and punched the ground with tremendous force. Izuku, in mid-fall, extended his arms to cushion himself but instead ended up breaking them on the icy surface. Battered, bruised, and toothless, Izuku was a sorry sight. It reminded him exactly of middle school. Izuku started tearing up in pain, waiting for the last student to take his flag so it could be over. He oddly craved the feeling of Recovery Girl’s dry lips over his cuts, making them feel all better. This daydream led to him passing out.

“Oh my gosh, Mr. Midoriya, I am SO SORRY, are you okay?” His hearing was so muffled he could barely hear his student walk in. At that point, he had already woken up, but his eyes were so puffy and bruised it made him look like they were closed.

“Man, I guess I really did a number on him. He told us not to hold back, but I only used 5% of my power.” The other two students who had sparred with him joined in.

“Yeah, same here! I only used a harmless ice sheet, but it took him out too.”

Embarrassed, Izuku took advantage of his puffy eyes and pretended to remain unconscious. He made a mental note for next time: do NOT participate in class training.

[thesupernaturalhouse]

Ooooookay! Hazbin Hotle redesigns....but not really? Honestly, it's just me drawing them in my style, but they could be considered redesigns, I guess, specifically Charlie

Uhhhh I guess we start form left to right sooo, Emily!

Right, so, Emily is obviously a fallen angle. Thiguht this isn't her fallen look, since we already kneo what she looks liek with wings and a halo I didn't think about making a 2nd version of her without the demon disguise- but maybe I should

Either way, I kinda kept her original dress, with the symbols and what not, I feel liek blue and purple really suit her so, indigo

I tried to add red to her, but it just didn't look good. It gave me an eye strain.though her till and horns have a sort of dark magenta color going on

I wanted to add more 'freckles' cause, thier cute, and I have a bunch of freckles ove rmy arms and legs and face and stuff so, added them to em, I put a few on her ears and tail and horns to

Gave her gold buttons and fishnets on her arms, i forget what their called cause they are cute, and I like Athnek(?) Posts about Emily and uh, goth Emily, I think, is pretty cool and so boom, fishnet glive things- I gitta look up what there called

Lso ehr shoes look liek dolphins, which I didn't mean to do but it happened and I've accepted it

Next is Charlie!!

Um. Obviously, Charlie is the most changed from her canon design, I relaly like her hooves and others redesigns of her looking more liek a goat

Originally, I was just gonna add gaot ears and stuff, but the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea of her having fur soooo tadaaaaa~

I gave her a little red stripe between her eyes and fade on her legs and ears to match Razzle and dazzle, and since lucifer was a high angle a seraphm/archangels hoenstly I dotn see a difference. I gave her some white freckles as well to sorta, show that connection

Also, toe beans! If she has claws, she can have beans, I think that Emily would have a normal human hand while vaggie would have little soft spikes on her like moths do, tho that's not shown

I also drew charlies wings cause it's cnaon she has them, and I wanted to play around with the demon/angle wing/s she could have, my irl friend K helped me decide which one to choose

I also drew her leg so you can see the fade in full. Side note that her belly has the same cherry red fur

I also added some chest fluff because why not?

As for her horns, I kept them the same color but added rings like Lilith has to show a connection between them. She also has her mom's eyes and heart tail point. I wanted her to have some demon stuff out just cause, she is a demon, she should......also realizing just how long I made her tail-

Uhhh, oh, right, side note, which I'll have to make a separate post about, Lucifer/eve/lilith are all dating each other, and Chalrie is all 3s kid. Eve is where she got the goat aspect from, inckuding horn shape, her scaly tail, snake fangs, red cheeks and color scheme over all are from dad, and Lilith is where she got her eyes and horn rings and heart point from, and beans to I guess

Maybe I should make a gene sheet one day; I gave her Jean shorts, like how I usually wear just cause I didn't want to add too much red or black

Okay, vaggie time!

Vaggie is the least changed. The most I really change about her is how her wings look. Her hand snow has soft spikes like moths do, and her hair

I do think when she fell, she got more demon aspects, but since her wings were torn off, she doesn't have to many physically other than fangs and the spikes

I also made her hair shorter because please, nobody has their hair that long!! or if they do, then I've never seen them!

I know it's a show, but it was driving me crazy! I'm not that skilled at draw front view bodies yet, so if vaggie looks off I'm sorry:(

Play that should be it!-

Oh wait, hold on, right. The reason they have gold rings/objects on them is because in term software demon courting their all technically married, okay bye-

[agirlwithachakram]

locking in Reyes' romance is objectively ridiculous

the flirts are fun and cute, and he obviously really fancies Ryder, like genuinely believes in them as a leader and a capable problem-solver without idolizing them in a dehumanizing way. and he's hella charming, and it's easy for Ryder to fall for him and to be impressed with the work he's done in the quagmire that is Kadara, plus his respect for the Angara, that Sloane does not share.

But then we get to High Noon. absolutely bizarre quest. Sloane's like "i can't trust anyone but you, Ryder" and you can't say "why would you trust me, I've literally been undermining you the entire time, I'm hooking up with, if not your top rival (although! possibly?), then at least a major agent of theirs, we stole your booze like yesterday, I think you're a shit ruler, you are dumb as hell to bring me as your second to a duel."

at this point it is more than plausible for Ryder to have at the very least wondered if Reyes IS the Charlatan, though they do express surprise when he reveals himself. Then again, the line delivery is ambiguous enough that you could say Ryder is just announcing it to Sloane.

and then your boyfriend is like "let's draw!" and Sloane says "okay!" which is! so stupid! ma'am he lured you here to die! why would you trust him!?! and me? HIS LOVER? we have been spotted sucking face in your storage room quite recently!! girl WALK OUT. Blow this joint!

and then SAM's like "she's gonna die"

So you have seconds to choose between letting your boyfriend pull a dirty murder or letting this terrible leader keep going.

Ryder, who does NOT have a renegade route, who can be cold at times but for the most part doesn't really have "win at any cost" options, who is relatively young, who never faced the reapers, has to stand there and watch as Reyes has Sloane murdered, after Sloane said she was relying on Ryder to prevent any such tricks.

And then you get two options. Reyes says "I liked the way you looked at me. I didn't want that to change."

You can say "You're not the man I thought you were," which elicits the heart-shattering response, "I wanted to be." this ends the romance.

Or you can say, "Nothing's changed," which is really fucking improbable, and in response he shoves you into the wall and kissy kissy

Neither of those strike me as particularly plausible! MAYBE the first one, it's not how I'd do it but fine, the response is cute and sad. but the second one is ridiculous. Ryder is getting their hands dirty, yeah, making some harsh choices, but that one is such a shitty thing to pull on your sweetheart, that no, you can't say nothing's changed! Something's changed!

It would make a lot more sense to say, "congratu-fuckin-lations, you get kadara. can I have my outpost?"

"Are we going to talk about thi--"

"Not right now we're not, liar. I can't deal with you right now. you got what you wanted. I'll...come see you when I'm ready. IF I'm ready."

and then you can come talk things out later, you can even do it after a major mission like Hunting the Archon or something. TELL him it sucked to have that thrown on you, but you do understand that survival here is messier than you might've hoped, stuff like that.

plus it's juicier that way because you can continue the romance AND get his sad little :( i want to be good enough for youuuu Ryder *sniffle* and that's delicious.

[yzafre]

who wore it better – 2003 v 2012 episode comparisons

I said I wanted to do this in my 2003 thoughts post, and I’m gonna. I've been picking away at this for a couple weeks now.

I’m focusing on places where they actually recycled a storyline rather than adapted general concepts.  Fugitoid and the space arc is an example of the second method – Robot Scientist with a connection to a Dangerous Machine is a shared concept, but the stories are different.

“Ohhh how did we end up here we’ve GOT to figure out how to get home, our Dad might still be in danger” versus “we HAVE to collect the McGuffins before the enemy or earth is going to EXPLODE. AGAIN.” You know?

Comparing those types of adaptations could be done, but it’s not what I’m interested in here.  I specifically want to look at the places that made me think “oh, 2012 just copied this” while I was watching 2003.

Now, obviously this is extremely subjective.  So take this as me defending my nominations for winner in these categories, rather than some sort of objective truth.  I am presenting my dinky power-point on why you should vote for my favorites.  Ect.  Your preferences may be different!

My ramblings on the episodes got long (should I have split this into parts? maybe! didn't though), so uhhhh...

tl;dr: Scoring got weird at 3.5 to 2003, 3 to 2012, and two draws.

Key takeaways: 2003 better matches my personal tastes, and what makes 2012 good is the stuff specific to its iteration, rather than copying 2003

With all that taken care of, here’s my opinions, in very messy order.

Meet Casey Jones vs The Good, The Bad and the Casey Jones

So, this was the very first episode that made me sit back and go: wait.  This is just.  The same thing? 

Raph loses a fight, loses his temper violently over it.  He then goes out to get some air and runs into Casey, getting into a fight.  Raph goes back and apologizes to his brother, and then they have to deal with the Casey situation.  Eventually they’re friends.

That being said, they do handle things a bit differently inside of those plot points, in a way that makes me very split on which one is better.

So, this episode is doing two things: introducing Casey (at least to the turtles, in 2012’s case), and spotlighting Raph’s anger issues, and the shows handle both of them differently.  So let's look at them:

Raph and his anger

I want to start with the positioning of the episode within the wider series.

This is the 4th episode of 2003.  At this point, they’re still setting up the characters and your understanding of them – so this is really here to say hey, our Raph has a temper, that’s going to be a thing going forward. (I'm watching '87 right now, and while I've heard Raph gets more of his anger late in the series, at the beginning he is... not that. So signaling this for people who might have watched the previous show is valid.)

After this, I don’t remember there being other episodes that are Explicitly About Raph’s anger issues?  That’s not to say there aren’t any – there very well could’ve been some that were just so boring I don’t remember them, which would be a whole other issue – but what I remember of him being, to quote the show, a “hot-head” is integrated into other stories.

For 2012, this is nearly halfway through season 2, and is one of 3 episodes I can think of off the top of my head that at least start out framed as a lesson on Raph’s anger issues.  (The one with the guy that turns into a spider mutant, this one, and…. Okay so I don’t remember the details but I’m Pretty Sure I remember there being another one post-space arc).

Now, in theory this is good – having a sort of long-term journey recurring throughout the series.  In practice… eh. 

This is very subjective, but from the way the topic was constantly put on the shelf until they wanted to use it for an episode, to the way it was all extremely surface level and used mostly for jokes, it didn’t do much for me.

That aside, let’s look at the content of the episode itself:

Raph's anger issues have two different tones here.

2003 Raph’s snapping at Mikey is framed a lot more seriously – and a lot more dangerously – than 2012 Raph going at Leo.  And, accordingly, ‘03 Raph is a lot more horrified at his actions, whereas ‘12 Raph is more petulant, unwilling to fully own up to his mistake.

That carries over to when they’re “getting some air” - ‘03 Raph is blatantly angry with himself, where ‘12 is complaining about his brother’s not getting it.  I do think some of that frustration with himself is buried underneath, but it's interesting to note the difference between how aware of it they are. (Of course, ‘12 also didn’t try to brain his brother over the head with a metal pipe.  So.)

The two different versions also shifted what they chose to have “spelled out” versus implied.  What I mean is.... okay, so ‘03 had Raph explicitly say “What is wrong with me” – that frustration with himself I mentioned earlier – where it’s kind of buried underneath for ‘12.

On the other hand, ‘12 Raph flat out says he wasn’t angry, just “determined to win,” when explaining himself to Splinter, whereas with ‘03 the reasoning comes from Raph’s “You think you’re better than me?” line during the fight (and a bit of Mikey’s taunting, the menace), allowing you to (very easily, let's be real, I don't know that you can really count this as subtext) connect the dots on how it escalated.

So, that leads to their fight with Casey – where they both get carried away, before coming to their senses and questioning what they’re doing (and subsequently getting surprise-attacked).  The difference here is that ‘03, upon calming down, went back to trying to talk some sense into Casey (using the lessons he’s obviously trying to absorb himself), while to me ‘12 Raph just kinda seemed disoriented by it all?

Which. Fair.

Next step: the apology.  VERY different receptions.  The ‘03 brothers greet Raph with worry and care, and take his apology quietly and warmly, whereas for ‘12 they act like this is another Tuesday, a bit dismissive, and tease and taunt him through his apology.  I’m not trying to disparage the ‘12 turtles here – not exactly – more so observing the difference in tone once more.

When people say the ‘03 turtles feel older, I think this is a huge part of it – the ‘12 turtles’ behavior feels very “stupid teenager”.  And I mean that in a genuine, fairly affectionate way.  I remember being that age, I was dumb.  You don’t know how to handle all these strong feelings, you have no impulse control. Also around 2012 I remember being genuine being deeply uncool, so. But ‘03 are demonstrating a higher level of emotional maturity, compared to that, and it does make them feel older.

Anyways, after that you get the reunion with Casey, having very different tones.  ‘03 purposefully tries to reach out and rehabilitate help Casey get himself under control, whereas ‘12 diverges into a surprise attack by the Foot where Raph and Casey bicker their way into teamwork.

Overall, ‘03 takes a more... introspective? Approach to Raph’s anger, where ‘12 flickers between being slightly emotional and using the situation for humor or cool action scenes – it feels like setup for an arc that I never felt we got satisfying payoff for.

For my tastes, I think I prefer ‘03 for the Raph part of the episode, if only because it remains thematically cohesive till the end.  From start to finish, Raph is trying to impart the lesson he wants to learn to Casey.  With 12, it feels like the “Raph’s anger issues” thread got a bit lost/abandoned in building up the Raph-Casey dynamic.

Speaking of...

Casey Jones

I think ‘12 is the better Casey intro episode.  There, I said it.

I know, I know!  It’s not technically where we meet Casey, we already saw him interacting with April (also scenes I like), but... although having finished 2003 I think ‘03 has the better overall Casey (mostly because they give him like. Actual personal connections to the world), ‘12 has the better initial burst of character, in my opinion.

His little intro monologue is so stupid, and I love it.  The skates and the little taser-gloves he obviously put together himself (and the fact that we only got one episode of Donnie and Casey bonding over this kind of engineering is criminal???).

The initiative to follow Raph down, his reactions to Splinter, the entire subway tunnel chase scene, where his and Raph’s rapport is building up... it’s good stuff!  I like it!  Maybe there’s a bit less depth in some places – we don’t get the personal connection with the Purple Dragons, how it ties back to his family – but his character voice, his initiative and impulsivity, and his creativity all come through.

It’s such a shame they didn’t do more to add to his character throughout the series in ‘12, because he had a fantastic early showing.  But then, that series didn’t seem interested in doing that for any of their characters, to me.  Sigh.

But... just looking at the episode itself, I'd give the Casey have to 2012.

So... draw?  Great way to start off, I know.

Shredder Strikes Back vs The Invasion (or: Leo gets thrown through a window)

So, this is a tough competition, we’re gonna have to take this point by point, I mean -

2012.  It’s 2012.  Are you kidding me.

Okay, look.  2012 already has an advantage just on moving this from halfway through season 1 to the season 2 finale, but, I mean... come on.

With 2003, there was barely any build up with the Shredder.  We’d seen him sort of being in charge of the various villains since early on – but the turtles didn’t see that!  For them, he showed up, tricked Leo, Splinter gave some back story, they fought and then Splinter seemingly killed him.  It just... wasn’t that dramatic? To me??

So when you have Leo thrown through the window, whispering “he’s back”, I was just like... I see no reason for this level of dread.  It doesn’t feel that personal, or important, or.... anything, really.  I know 2003 came first, but having watched 2012 beforehand this was kind of a letdown.  Didn’t feel earned.

Now, 2012 on the other hand....

Shredder has been a constant, ever-increasing threat since the moment he showed up in Season 1.  It was already personal with Splinter, yes, but then he also became a subject of looming dread for the turtles themselves.  And it doesn’t come out of nowhere. 

Like, yes, we, the viewers, were aware 2003 Shredder survived, but otherwise he was just hanging out off-screen, doing who knows what.  He wasn’t on the mind.  2012, on the other hand, showed the way Shredder was slowly amassing power, planning for something.

And then you add the Kraang on top of it.

Like, seriously, making this a two-prong threat is. Mwah!  The boys are falling apart, stressed by the time-limit of the upcoming Kraang invasion, disagreeing on how to handle it.  And then the argument gets cut short by their home being discovered – they don’t even get a chance to choose their path together, because they have to run, and everything’s chaos, and they’re still focused on the Kraang.

And that’s when the Shredder comes in.

This is insult on top of injury with everything going wrong that possibly could.  This is an immaculate payoff to the set-up they’ve been doing all season. This is fantastic.

And when Leo is thrown through the window, you feel it – the dread, the horror, the regret.  It really feels like the breaking point of “we can’t take any more” that leads to them retreating.  It has a weight to it that 2003’s version was sorely missing.

When it comes to Leo getting thrown through a window, 2012 takes the win, hands down.  The stakes, the drama, and my investment are all so much higher than they were in ‘03, no contest, it’s my favorite part of ‘12.

What comes after, on the other hand....

Tales of Leo + The Monster Hunter vs Season 3a (or, the Farmhouse Arc)

Maybe it’s unfair to compare 2 episodes to 8 episodes.  And maybe this is diverging from my “only episodes that are directly connected” rule I stated in the beginning, but I need to get this off my chest.  Because I just.  I’m not impressed by 2012’s farmhouse arc. 

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Warning: rant ahead, this is VERY subjective and heavily based in my personal tastes.  Reminder that I do genuinely enjoy 2012, I just think the farmhouse arc is the lowest point in the whole series and is representative of what I find to be the weakest aspect of the series’ writing across the board.  That being said.

I see what 2012 was trying to do, by drawing out Leo’s recovery over all those episodes, giving the characters some space to breathe.  But they didn’t do it well in my opinion, and honestly the whole thing.  Flounders. 

2012’s best feature is its plot writing, how one episode tumbles into the next, Rube Goldberg machine-style, across an entire season.  But at the farmhouse, they’re removed from the greater plot, and that’s not doing the writing any favors.

And it’s not that the episode ideas are bad – I generally think they’re pretty interesting!  It’s just that without the inter-connected plot, they need something else to push them from “okay” to “exceptional”.  Usually, this would be where deeper characterization and relationship building would kick in instead, but uh.  I don’t personally think 2012 is great at that.

They under-cut the message of the episode with Big Foot, the Casey and Donnie friendship doesn’t really go anywhere after this, every other episode where inter-personal issues are only dealt with on a very surface level become even more obvious and a bit annoying without the greater plot to distract from it. Yes I know this is a kids show, but A:tlA had already finished airing at this point, also on Nickelodeon.

I think there’s a consistent issue with character writing in 2012 where they do what looks like set-up with no intent to ever give a meaningful pay-off or significantly change the status-quo, and that’s very much on display here.

And it’s not that there was nothing good in the season – I liked what they were doing with Raph, and how he was trying to help/encourage Leo, while somewhat bungling it in very realistic ways.  It was a fascinating look at what this Raph acting at his best as the Lancer trope could be, and I genuinely wish they leaned into it more later down the line.

Also, I’m always thrilled to see the Leo-April friendship get some focus, so Eyes of the Chimera was a favorite.  But across the board... the season didn’t wow me, and the longer it went on, the more I could see the cracks.

It all tops off with Vision Quest, which was my biggest disappointment in the entire series, the point at which I had to really stop and reset my expectations on what kind of story the writers were interested in telling.  The summary describes them having to go on a spiritual journey to really face themselves and their weaknesses, and I was so excited!  But then it was just.  Really surface level.  And occasionally confusing.

Raph needs to work on his temper, sure – but how is this any different than any of the other episodes about it?  Do we look at all at where his anger comes from?  A deeper way to handle it?  No, of course not.

Mikey needs to focus, stop getting distracted – I mean, yeah sure I guess.  Not a particularly interesting way of handling it, though.  Also, even if he manages it here, I know it's not going to pan out to the rest of the show, they’re not giving up their easy source of humor for the younger demographic.

And Donnie needs to... stand his ground? What?  I was so caught off guard.  It’s not that it’s completely out of touch, we see him coming up with complex paths to his goals, trying to think his way around of problems, ect, but... it was never really highlighted or presented as a real problem other than maybe the episode on instinct over thinking too hard?  It just felt really disconnected from anything else they were doing with him.  A genuinely interesting pay-off scene, with no solid set-up.

And Leo.  Oh jeez.  My friends.  WHAT is up with how they handled Leo’s knee injury?  The pain is just in my mind? It's not real??  Really???  No, thank you.

Like... I think this was supposed to be a riff on what Splinter says about ‘03 Leo’s coma, and him being trapped in his head due to fear – but because in ‘12 they tied it to an actual, specific physical injury, the execution falls apart. 

(Especially when they use the same flash-effect they used on Leo having issues with his knee of Splinter having issues later in the series but I probably shouldn't take that into account here.)

I mean, his quest is the closest to being satisfying, because they had lain interesting groundwork with his struggle with recovery and his insecurities in previous episodes, but then they just completely bungle it at the end! Argh!

I was so excited for Vision Quest, but this didn't tell me anything new about the characters or progress the characters in any meaningful way! It had no effect on how the characters are written going forward. So – other than some admittedly very cool fight choreography – what was the point?  Was there one??  It felt like putting on the trappings of an emotionally deep story without any of the actual, you know.  Depth.

I am clawing at the walls. Look at all the potential you wasted.

And yes, I’m aware this is all very subjective, and again part of a show for kids, but that’s how it hit me.

The 2003 farmhouse arc, on the other hand, was very short, and I think it benefited from that.  It had two episodes, and it knew what it was doing with both of them.  They felt purposeful, in the larger arc of the story.

First episode: they make their way to the farmhouse, Leo’s in a coma (according to Splinter, one driven by his fear), and his family tells stories of when he was brave/strong as a little kid to try and bring him out.

Wonderful, amazing, I love this episode.  So much character work – both in the past and present!  By going back to when they were kids, it helps us contextualize the turtles’ relationships by making them simpler.

In showing early memories that probably started cementing their views of each other, we see the core around which they developed.  By seeing which memory each brother chooses to present, we get some insight into how they each see Leo.  It gives us a point A to our current point B, which allows us to extrapolate the line between the two, how they developed.

And then you also get the little moments of how the brothers are handling this catastrophic event, how they react to the stress, to seeing their brother so hurt – Raph especially!  It’s pure character work and I love it.

After that, we get one episode of shenanigans, which is both representative of that “space to breathe” after Leo woke up, and also gives space for the B-plot (which is the truly arc-important plot) of Leo, now awake, dealing with his own handling of this stressful situation.

Is the A-plot of this episode quite as good as some of the ideas for the 2012 episodes?  Honestly, no, but just the fact that it’s carrying the Leo recovery story pushes it ahead.  We see Leo struggling with his failure, Raph stepping up to herd him back on the right track – the idea of physically remaking his swords to remake himself!  And, though we don’t know it yet, how hard Leo takes this is great foreshadowing to how he reacts going into his season 4 breakdown.

And then, having done the character work they wanted to accomplish, the writers go back to the main story.  The characterization here matters (and also is good) in a way that whatever is going on in the 2012 farmhouse arc just.  Isn’t. 

In my opinion.

Okay, rant over, winner is obvious, moving on.

Triceratons

Again, we’re not comparing most of the space arcs, as that’s apples to oranges, but there are two episodes that caught my attention:

Rogue in the House vs Dinosaur Seen in Sewers!

Here we've got two episodes where the turtles find a Very Confused Triceraton and trick him into helping them.

I like the 2003 one better.

Honestly, it comes down to the context of the episode.  Rogue in the House comes after the turtles have been in space and when they know more about who the Triceratons are.  2012 on the other hand is a sudden introduction to a new arc.

2003 also... questions the ethics of their decision more, by the end.  It’s a bit more empathetic?  And I appreciate that.

I will give 2012 credit that translating “we’ve been dropped into the middle of a war where both sides are bad” over to be attached to the Kraang, which they’ve built up already as a powerful alien threat, was clever.  It doesn’t have the same edge of commentary that “and one of these sides looks just like us humans” has, but it is clever use of their existing world-building, and I like it.

The Arena vs The Arena of Carnage

The most obvious connection in the 2012 space arc – the turtles get thrown into a gladiator arena.

Now, 2003 does have an unfair advantage in this comparison, as The Arena is heavily bolstered by the set-up work done in The Big House, giving you a sense of place, stakes, connection to the other characters...

That last bit is where my bias and personal taste shows: I really love the turtles making any kind of meaningful connection with other characters, and I find this more convincing in the 2003 version than the 2012 one.

But 2012 also weakens itself in its own right by doing some setup here with no long-term pay off.  You’ve got your fellow prisoner, who turns out to be a Triceraton who objected to the leadership's decisions... and after this episode, that means nothing!  Cool, okay.

Like I get that was a part of the episode they’re pulling from, but if they’re not planning on reusing that long-term story, then they really could have cut that aspect all together.  I know they have enough creativity in them to adapt the concept of “stuck in a gladiator arena” to do something more interesting, they’ve proved they have it in them.  They just... didn’t, and the plot point didn’t translate well.  Ah, well.

2003 also wins this one.

City at War vs... City at War?(???)

Look, I am only comparing these because they use the exact same name.  Otherwise, it’s nowhere near a fair comparison.  For 2012, this is actually part of a couple episodes where they talk about there being a power vacuum after the Shredder is out of the picture, but...

Can we be so real?  They don’t even get close to the scale of 2003.  Like with the farmhouse, it’s not that they don’t have any good ideas – I like the Don Visioso episode quite a bit – but it never gets to the depth or scale I want it to. 

Like, 2003 made it visually obvious that the city is falling apart, that things are really out of control, in a way you can feel. Though, honestly, I’m not even sure 2012 could reach the levels of 2003, because they never put as much effort into making their NYC feel... real?  I guess?

Also, the 2003 City at War arc is just.  It’s really good, guys.  It did such great work on Leo and Raph’s characterization, the danger in the city is palpable, the tension is thick, and then you add Karai on top of it all?

You’d think 2012 could push this, given the added dimensions to Karai and her connection to Shredder, but it ends up falling short.  Point again goes to 2003.

What a Croc! Vs It Came From the Depths (Leatherhead)

So. I am painfully biased, because It Came From the Depths is my favorite 2012 Mikey episode, and I thought What a Croc! was... just okay.

I frequently bemoan that 2012 didn’t lean more into long-form character arcs for their story, and this is one of the central episodes that defined my desire for Mikey’s arc.

The instant compassion and understanding he has for Leatherhead – the way he recognizes and is willing to work with his trauma responses, but also is childishly impatient with the process when it gets messy later on, showing he still has some maturing to do – it's great, and I love it.  I didn’t find the same kind of depth in the 2003 episode.

On the other hand, long-term I like Leatherhead better in 2003, just because he’s more present as ally, friend, or even family.  2012 Mikey’s always excited to see Leatherhead, but you don’t exactly see them hanging out.

But this is about the episode, and for that, I’ll give it to 2012.

Renet (Time Travails + Return of the Savanti Vs Turtles in Time + Tale of the Yokai)

I’ll be real with you, 2003 gains points with me just because this is another example of 2012 poorly shoving in romance. I would like to make it clear – I don’t have an objective issue with the turtles being in romantic relationships.  It’s just... don’t put it in there if the writing's going to be so... bad. And boring. And unnecessary.

Additionally, this particular example put me off a bit more because... hm. Okay, the episode starts with Mikey going “I'm never gonna get caught up in all that!" Only for the show to do the writing equivalent of saying "of course you will, as soon as the right person comes along. And here she is!"

And uhm.  Okay, so, I’m asexual with a big ? when it comes to romance.  So that framing is..... nghghghgh I don't like it. Like I get the joke, but it still gave me the ick.

Also it was another infatuation-at-first-sight situation like Donnie which. Is a romantic trope that is So Stupid, you CANNOT tell me that's how it actually works, I don't believe you, and also it makes for stupid, boring writing. So there.

Ahem.

Once you get past that, there’s points to be made for both episodes.  The way the 2003 turtles find Renet just kind of tiring but can’t help going along with her anyways is very funny to me, but 2012 lets them do Tales of the Yokai, and I enjoy the concept of them getting to see what Actually Happened Back Then, rather than just hearing subjective stories of it.  Adds some texture.

I dunno on this one – if it’s Time Travails vs Turtles in Time, 2003 wins, but once you move on to Tale of the Yokai I give it to 2012.  Call it a draw?

Loosely inspired by

Okay. So. These are things where I can’t say “Oh, they were just doing this story again”, but where I think there might have been some heavy inspiration.  Your mileage may very on these, and you could think I’m completely wrong, but I thought they’d be interested to talk about.

Even if they are from Back to the Sewers.

The Engagement Ring to The Power Within Her

April gets magic jewelry that possesses her, goes on a rampage?  Admittedly, the set-up is very different, as is the tone, but... well, you have to wonder.

I thought The Engagement Ring was one of the better episodes of Back to the Sewers, but as entertaining as it was, I’m still going to give this to 2012, I think.  I like things that have more build-up to them, and they did pretty good at setting up this episode ahead of time, building up that dread.  And it just did more with the concept, you know?

Also, it fit well into my interpretation/re-write of April’s character, so.

Identity Crisis to Brain Worms

I mean.  Turtles get brain-washed by the Foot, have to be broken out of it by being reminded of memories/who they were.  Methodology of the brainwashing is very different, admittedly, which is why I put this down here rather than in the main section!  But it’s similar enough for me to connect them.

This is another situation where I think 2012 took a concept and further developed it.  The brain worms are fantastically gruesome, and really treated like the existential horror it should be.  The amount of fics I’ve seen expanding on the brain-worms concept is proof of how it hooks in people’s brains.

Another point to 2012.

Conclusion

So let’s run a tally.

I'm not sure the two Back to the Sewer episodes count, but I also maybe have broken my rule on the farmhouse arc... I guess we could count those as half points?

Casey Intro: Draw

Window: point 2012

Farmhouse: half-point 2003

Lost triceraton: point 2003

Gladiator arena: Point 2003

City at War: point 2003

Leatherhead intro: point 2012

Renet: Draw

Losely inspired: cumulative point 2012

So that's... 3.5 for 2003, 3 for 2012, and two draws? Pretty close.

Realistically, I think these should be the two takeaways from my opinions:

First, 2003 better matches my personal tastes. I'm a character arc girly, and 2003 gave a lot more attention to that aspect of their writing than 2012 did, and that affects my opinions. See: the Vision Quest rant.

Second, what makes 2012 good is the stuff that’s specific to its iteration.

The way they adapted the Hamato Yoshi backstory from 2003 to be about Splinter and Shredder, making Karai Splinter’s stolen daughter, and how that whole plot line plays out.  The way they make the Kraang a whole organization, and their alliance with Shredder.  The full season, Rube-Goldberg machine buildup of plot.  These are all the thing that make it excel.

So... yeah. That's my thoughts. Your opinions might be different, and - if you're nice about it, please - I would love to hear your thoughts on what I've said, which episodes you like better, and why you like them! Shows hit different people, well, differently!

[off-brand-likes]

Febuwhump Day 3: Pinned Down

I'm tired and I'm not editing this now, but: Remember when I trapped Kallus in an abandoned prison (parts 1, 2, and 3)? My brain has finally decided it's time to get him out, in approximately 1,000 words.

@mystical-salamander , thank you for your interest. I have been trying to make my brain write this for a year and a half.

In darkness so complete he might as well be blind, something wakes Kallus up. He groans, which does not improve his throbbing headache or the ache in every joint and bone that he'd pressed to the cell floor while he slept.

He's still thirsty, starving, exhausted, in pain. The Force, or the Lasat's Ashla, won't let him go in his sleep, it seems. This death is no worse than he deserves for all he's done, but he can't help wishing it were over.

Something in the rubble above his cell is moving.

Chunks of building material grate against each other. Something, or someone, is alive up there.

"Help." That wheeze of a voice will never get through all that debris. At least two stories of the building were above ground, before someone blew the place up with him inside.

The movement stops. Kallus holds his breath. "Don't you dare leave," he says, to himself since nobody can possibly hear him. "Don't you dare."

With more effort than it had ever taken in his life, Kallus rolls himself onto his front pushes at the floor. His arms shake. He raises his chest off the tiles, barely.

Something thumps above him, so heavily he feels it in his lungs. He flinches, which drops him onto the floor again. The ceiling cracks, letting in the dimmest light, but more light than he's seen in… gods only know how long.

He rolls himself onto his back again and lays there, panting, watching the crack turn itself into a web of them. Dust and grit fall through, shimmering a little in the dimness.

Smaller thumps come from above. The cracks split. Kallus shuts his eyes and braces himself for this to finally, finally be over.

Only a few objects fall through the ceiling. One of them crackles. "Hello? Anyone down there?"

It's Zeb's voice. It can't be, but it's Zeb nonetheless.

Kallus forces his eyes open and slowly turns his head. The dim light from above reveals a comlink on the floor by his knee.

It's the first pleasant hallucination his mind has conjured since this ordeal began. He ought to reward it. His whole arm shakes with fatigue as he reaches for the comlink, but his fingers close around it when he does.

His hand keeps shaking as he brings the comlink closer to his face. "Zeb?"

"Someone's down there!" Zeb shouts to someone in the opposite direction of the comlink. "I told you they left somebody behind." Into the comlink this time, Zeb says, "Wait, you… Do I… Never mind, we moved stuff around up here, it's not as stable as it was. Can't stand here talking."

Kallus's chest hurts from the strain this new development is putting on his heart. So much for one last pleasant hallucination. "Don't leave," he rasps into the comlink.

"Don't worry, we'll get you out." Zeb says something slightly outside the comlink's range. Mechanical rumbling starts. "So, uh, we don't have all the best gear for this. Emergency response personnel got drafted early. Just… Can you get up against a wall? We're going to move as much junk off your cell as we can, but the ceiling's gonna come down at some point."

"Alright." Kallus draws a steadying breath. "Thank you, Garazeb."

"You do know me." Zeb's quiet for a beat. "Kallus?"

Kallus smiles, even though the pain of his cracked lips tearing open again. "Yes. I'm moving to the wall now."

"Karabast, we thought you were dead! Have you been here the whole time? Since Atollon?"

"I think so."

Keeping hallucinated Zeb happy isn't really worth the effort of dragging himself over the floor toward a wall. Kallus does it anyway. He's panting by the time he reaches the wall. He can barely find the breath to say, "I'm ready."

"Okay, here we go." Zeb sounds more hopeful than confident.

The mechanical rumbling gets louder. Kallus drags his arms up over his head and wishes he had the energy to cover his ears.

An avalanche of rubble and dirt crashes through the ceiling. Duracrete and metal crash onto Kallus's back and legs. Between the mechanical noise and more construction material falling into his cell, he can't even hear his own scream of pain.

Kallus shuts his eyes against dust and blinding sunlight, but his brain doesn't have the decency to let him sleep again. Instead, he has to lie half crushed under pieces of his prison while the mechanical rumbling retreats. The soil smells like Lothal's plains. He was right about that, at least.

"Damn it, Zeb," Kallus groans. "You said you'd stay." He's lost the comlink, if it was ever real at all.

Footsteps skidding in uneven material tramp around above him. "I see him!" Zeb, again. Good. "Let go, ‘Bine, he's right there, let me—"

"Zeb, if we don't shore up what's left of the walls, the rest of the cell block could collapse on all of us. Give me just a few minutes! Then you can dig through all of that and see if he lived."

"I'm—" Pain lances through Kallus's chest. His interrogators and guards have cracked his ribs often enough that he recognizes the sensation. No matter. "I'm here."

"If you're going down there, then I'm coming too."

Sabine Wren, Kallus assumes, sighs impatiently. "Yeah, okay, but we need to go now. Whoa!"

Zeb's huge feet thud on the rubble pile on the other side of the cell from Kallus. He sets Sabine on her feet next to him, followed by a large crate. "Now how are we supposed to get out?" Sabine groans.

"You'll think of something. Or Hera will let down that ladder you found." Zeb kneels beside Kallus, looking worried. The sun shines through the edges of his fur, outlining him in gold and drifting dust. It makes Kallus smile again.

"Karabast, you're a mess. I knew those junk traders left somebody behind in here, but I'd never have guessed it was you." Zeb moves away to help Sabine with something.

Kallus sighs shallowly. The weight of the rubble on his back stops him from taking as deep a breath as he needs. The view is worse without Zeb here, too. Every sharp ache hurts more without a distraction.

After a lot of grinding metal and duracrete, Zeb reappears in Kallus's field of vision. "We're going to dig you out and get you outta here. I'm, uh." Zeb rubs the back of his neck. His ears sag with embarrassment or sadness, catching the sun behind them again. "Sorry we left you here so long."

Kallus wants to tell him it's alright. He can't get enough air in his lungs to speak. Blackness closes in on him. The rubble on his back shifts and presses directly on a cracked rib.

Pain crashes through him. This time, his brain lets him sleep through whatever happens next.

Part 5

[winxanity-ii]

MEMORY CARD [1/?]

ship: artist!andy x fem!reader warnings: non-explicit word count: 4.7k (y'all know the routine, tried doing a regular one-shot but ended up worldbuilding 😩😔; part 2 will be up soon) a/n: was talking with my sis about westworld so here we are...(update: it's gonna be 4-5 parts in total cuz @k-nayee. bullied me 😭😔💔 parts: 2

★·.·´🇦‌🇱‌🇮‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

The train rattled along the tracks, the gentle hum of the engine weaving with the rhythmic clatter of wheels against steel. You leaned your forehead against the cool glass window, watching as the endless plains rolled by in a blur of gold and green.

The faint smell of dust and engine oil filled the cabin, mingling with the scent of freshly brewed coffee from the dining car up ahead.

Each bump in the track sent a subtle jolt through the train, a reminder of the distant frontier you were heading toward.

Behind you, the low murmur of conversation drifted through the air. You weren't trying to eavesdrop, but the voices carried in the cramped space.

"Now, the first time, I played it white hat. My family was here. We went fishing, did the gold hunt in the mountains," one of the men said, his tone smug with nostalgia. There was a pause as he took a swig of something from his flask. "And last time? I came alone. Went straight evil. It was the best two weeks of my life."

His companion chuckled darkly. "Straight evil, huh? What'd you do?"

"Ah, you know," he said with a nonchalant shrug that you could practically hear in his voice. "Burned a few homesteads, robbed a bank or two… Got a nice haul from the bank, but the real fun was in the brothel. Picked a few cute ones—doe eyes, rosey cheeks, the whole works." His voice dipped into something sleazier. "Well, by the time I was done with the first one, let's just say, she wasn't thinking much at all."

You clenched your jaw, your grip tightening on the armrest as your stomach turned at his words.

The casual cruelty in his voice was disturbing, the way he spoke about the hosts like they were nothing more than objects to be used and discarded.

It was the kind of talk that made your skin crawl.

"And you know, the best part?" he continued, his voice dripping with twisted satisfaction. "After I was done, I shot her right in the head. She fell like a goddamn doll. And the way the other girls screamed—man, I've never felt so powerful."

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mixture of anger and disgust swirling inside you. Behind him, his friend laughed, low and crude.

"You're sick, man. But I gotta hand it to you—there's nothing like having absolute control. Makes you realize what you’re missing out on in the real world, doesn't it?"

Kiro, who had been staring out of the opposite window, turned her head sharply, her eyes blazing with indignation. "Ugh, what pigs," she gagged, loud enough for you to hear but quiet enough to avoid drawing attention.

Or so you thought.

You turned toward her, already sensing where this was going. "Kiro, don't," you whispered, trying to catch her eye, but she was already leaning forward, her expression set in a fierce scowl.

"Excuse me," she said, her voice cutting through the men’s conversation like a knife. Both of them turned, startled by the sudden interruption. "What an amazing story," she continued, dripping with sarcasm. "Can you maybe speak a little louder so we can all enjoy hearing about you fucking a decapitated host?"

The entire cabin fell silent. Every conversation around you stuttered and died as heads turned in your direction. The men stared at her, eyes wide in shock, before the one who had been bragging about his exploits found his voice.

"Hey, what the hell is your problem?" he barked, his face flushing with anger and embarrassment.

You reached out, grabbing Kiro's arm in an attempt to pull her back into her seat. "Kiro, please, just—" you began, but she shrugged you off, her gaze never leaving the men.

"Me? Problem?" she said, her voice cold and clear. "Looks like you have the problem, sitting over here bragging about doing sick shit. Sounds like you need a fucking therapist, not a vacation."

The man's face turned an even deeper shade of red as he sputtered, clearly not used to being called out so directly. His companion shifted uncomfortably, looking around at the other passengers who were now watching the scene unfold with varying degrees of curiosity and discomfort.

With a devastated, horrified shriek, you yanked Kiro back down into her seat, your fingers digging into the soft fabric of her dress as you hissed her name. "Kiro!"

The man grunted, shoving himself up from his seat. "Whatever. Let's get out of here," he muttered, jerking his head toward the back of the train. His friend followed suit, and you watched as they made their way down the aisle, their bravado crumbling under the weight of the stares that followed them.

Eventually, the low hum of conversation slowly filled the cabin again, the brief drama fading into the background noise of the train.

You pressed the heel of your hand to your forehead, rubbing at the spot between your eyes where a headache was beginning to bloom. "You can't let it get to you like that," you murmured, leaning closer so only she could hear. "You know it's common to hear things like that in here. Most people come to this place to live out their worst impulses."

Kiro let out a reluctant sigh, her shoulders sagging as she sank back into her seat. "I know," she muttered, a scowl tugging at the corners of her mouth. "But it's still bullshit. It doesn't matter if they're hosts. It's just wrong." She crossed her arms over her chest, her fingers tapping impatiently against her biceps. "And this ridiculous getup doesn't help either."

You glanced at her outfit, your lips quirking into a smile despite the lingering tension.

The soft yellow fabric of her dress shimmered faintly in the afternoon light, the white lace trim at the collar and cuffs adding a delicate, almost ethereal touch. The bodice hugged her frame perfectly, the high waist flaring out into a gentle, flowing skirt that fell just above her ankles.

Matching gloves, made of the same soft material, covered her hands, and a small hat, adorned with a delicate white ribbon, sat perched on her head, complementing her olive skin tone. Her silky straight hair was tied up in an intricate bun beneath the hat, a few stray strands framing her face.

"You look fine," you teased, nudging her gently with your elbow.

Kiro rolled her eyes, but a smirk tugged at her lips as she nudged you back. "Yeah, you can only say that because you’ve been here a hundred times. You're probably more used to wearing this old-western shit than regular clothes."

You laughed, reaching out to playfully pinch her arm. "That's not true," you protested, grinning as she swatted your hand away. "In my defense, the aesthetic is cute." You gestured to your own outfit, smoothing down the dark emerald green fabric of your dress.

The rich, velvety material clung to your figure in all the right places, the cream accents along the hem and sleeves adding a touch of elegance.

The dress was designed in the same style as Kiro's, with a fitted bodice and a flared skirt that swayed with every movement. A small matching hat perched atop your head, the delicate cream ribbon fluttering gently as the train continued its steady journey.

You tugged at your matching gloves, the emerald fabric soft and smooth against your fingers.

"You can't deny it's fun to dress up a little," you added, leaning back in your seat. "Even if it is a bit…anachronistic."

Kiro snorted, her smirk widening into a grin. "Yeah, well, I'd still prefer my jeans and a t-shirt any day over this." She glanced down at her outfit, shaking her head. "I feel like I'm playing dress-up in some weird historical reenactment."

You chuckled, the last remnants of tension melting away as the train rocked gently beneath you. "That's the whole point, though. It’s supposed to be a break from reality."

"Yeah, a break from reality where people think it’s okay to act like total assholes," Kiro muttered, but there was no real bite in her voice. She glanced at you, her eyes softening. "Thanks for trying to keep me out of trouble."

"Always," you said, smiling. "But next time, maybe just let it slide. We're here to have fun, remember?"

Kiro rolled her eyes, but she leaned back in her seat with a sigh. "Yeah, yeah. I'll try to remember that."

The train began to slow, the rhythmic clatter of wheels against tracks softening as it pulled into the station. You felt the change in momentum as it gently rocked to a stop, the hiss of steam filling the cabin.

The conductor's voice, gruff but polite, echoed through the car.

"Welcome to Sweetwater, ladies and gentlemen," he called out, tipping his hat as he moved down the aisle. "Please mind your step as you disembark. Have a fine day, and enjoy your visit to the frontier."

The passengers around you stood, gathering their belongings and chatting excitedly as they prepared to disembark.

You exchanged a glance with Kiro, who rolled her eyes playfully at the conductor's formal tone but couldn't hide the glimmer of excitement in her eyes.

You stood, smoothing down the skirt of your dress before picking up your leather bag.

The air was filled with the rustling of clothing, the creak of leather boots against the wooden floor, and the hum of anticipation as everyone shuffled toward the exit.

Stepping down from the train onto the wooden platform, you were momentarily blinded by the bright sunlight. You blinked, shielding your eyes with one gloved hand as you adjusted to the sudden change.

The warmth of the sun contrasted sharply with the cool, dusty air that carried the faint scent of horses and fresh-baked bread from the nearby bakery.

Sweetwater spread out before you like a scene from a storybook. The town was bustling with life, the wooden buildings lined up along the dusty main street, their colorful signs swaying gently in the breeze.

Horses trotted by, their hooves clopping against the dirt road, while a stagecoach rumbled past, the driver tipping his hat to the ladies on the sidewalk.

Kiro stepped down beside you, her eyes wide as she took in the sight. "Wow," she breathed, her voice filled with awe. She turned in a slow circle, taking in everything from the saloon with its swinging doors to the blacksmith's forge where the sound of hammering echoed faintly through the air. "This is… incredible."

You couldn't help but smile at her reaction, memories of your own first visit flooding back. The overwhelming sense of wonder, the feeling that you'd stepped into another world, a place where anything was possible.

It was a sensation that had faded over time, but seeing it through Kiro's eyes brought a flicker of it back to life.

Before you could say anything, Kiro snapped out of her daze, her grin wide and infectious as she grabbed your arm. "Let's go check it out!" she exclaimed, pulling you along before you could protest.

The two of you made your way down the bustling street, weaving between groups of people.

You passed a group of children chasing each other, their laughter ringing out as they dodged between the legs of a tall man in a duster coat. He chuckled, tipping his hat to you as you passed.

The town was alive with energy, a mix of hosts and guests moving about, some lost in their own narratives, others just exploring.

A woman in a bright red dress leaned against the railing of the saloon, batting her eyelashes at a group of men who were clearly guests, their excitement palpable as they fumbled through the door.

A few steps ahead, you noticed a man standing on a wooden crate, a sheriff's star pinned to his chest. He was surrounded by a small crowd, gesturing animatedly as he spoke.

"A posse is being organized to chase down a man who murdered the Marshal!" he announced, his voice carrying over the noise of the street. "Murderous son of a bitch named Hector Escaton gunned down the Marshal in cold blood. He's holed up in the mountains, and we need every able-bodied person willing to bring him to justice."

The crowd murmured, a few men stepping forward eagerly. The sheriff's gaze swept over the people gathered around him, landing on you and Kiro as you passed by.

"You there," he called out, pointing in your direction. "You look like the kind of ladies who’d put your mettle to it."

Kiro's eyes lit up, her hand already lifting in an enthusiastic wave as she nodded eagerly. "Really? Hell ye—"

"Not today, Sheriff," you cut in smoothly, stepping between Kiro and the man with a polite smile. "Apologies." You hooked your arm through hers, steering her away before she could argue.

"Hey, I could've done it!" she protested, though her tone was more playful than serious. She looked over her shoulder, watching as the sheriff turned back to his recruiting.

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound light and teasing. "Oh, I know you could've. I one hundred percent believe that," you said, patting her arm reassuringly as you guided her through the crowd. "But first, we've got to put our things away at the inn."

Kiro sighed dramatically but nodded, her curiosity about the town clearly winning out over the missed opportunity.

Together, you made your way down the bustling street, the inn's weathered sign swinging gently in the breeze as you approached.

A little while later, you were in your room, humming a soft tune under your breath as you folded your clothes and placed them neatly in the drawer.

The room was simple but cozy, the wooden floors creaking slightly under your feet as you moved around, setting up your things.

The afternoon sun filtered through the lace curtains, casting a warm, golden light across the room.

You were just placing your hat on the dresser when the door burst open, slamming against the wall with a loud thud. You jumped, turning to see Kiro standing in the doorway, her eyes gleaming and a wide grin plastered across her face.

"They have a saloon!" she exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement.

You blinked, momentarily confused by her enthusiasm. "Yeahhh…" you said slowly, tilting your head as you tried to figure out why she was so excited. "We saw it earlier. Remember?"

Kiro didn't respond immediately. Instead, she stalked forward, closing the distance between you in a few quick strides. She placed her hands on your shoulders, staring you directly in the eyes, her expression dead serious. "If there's a saloon, that means there’s alcohol," she said, her voice low and intense, as if she were imparting some great secret.

You raised an eyebrow, still not quite following. "Okay…?"

"And if there's alcohol," she continued, her grip tightening on your shoulders, "you know what that means? Drunk-ass susceptible banks!"

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. "Really, Kiro? Are you seriously planning to spend your week here doing the same thing you do back home? Get a roster of dudes?"

Kiro snorted, releasing your shoulders as she plopped down on your bed, the springs creaking under her weight. "Uhhh, duh," she sang, grinning up at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "What else am I supposed to do? It's my birthday. Plus, this is the perfect time to meet and get my thot shit on without worrying if the dude will find my ass and want a relationship."

You paused, your hands stilling as you turned to look at her, one eyebrow raised. "What happened to the whole 'treating hosts like people' bit back on the train earlier?"

Kiro looked at you like you’d just killed a dog or smacked her across the face. "What!? I am!" she protested, her voice rising in indignation. "If anything, me not fucking them would be discriminatory. Hell, I'm giving them the ultimate human treatment by treating them like one of my potential hoes."

You snorted, shaking your head as you folded the last of your clothes and slid the drawer shut. "You're ridiculous," you said, but there was no real bite to your words. A smile tugged at your lips as you glanced over at her.

Kiro just grinned, one eyebrow quirking up as she leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "You love me," she said, winking dramatically.

"Unfortunately," you teased, earning an exaggerated gasp from her.

Before she could retaliate, she hopped up from the bed, practically bouncing on her heels as she clapped her hands together. "Now, hurry up!" she whined, grabbing your arm and tugging on it like a petulant child. "We've gotta get to the saloon before all the good stuff is gone. I want to get my drink on and find some sweet-talking cowboy to take advantage of."

You laughed, letting her pull you toward the door. "You really think you're gonna find someone like that here?"

Kiro scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she gave you a playful smirk. "Please. With this face?" She gestured to herself dramatically. "I'm irresistible. Hosts, guests, doesn't matter. They'll all be lining up for a chance with me."

"Your confidence is astounding," you said dryly, grabbing your bag and throwing it over your shoulder.

"Thank you," she said, fluttering her eyelashes at you. "Now, come on! Time's wasting!"

You let her lead you out of the room and down the creaky wooden stairs to the main lobby, the warm, dusty scent of the inn filling your senses as you passed by the front desk and out the door.

The sun was beginning its slow descent toward the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the town as the two of you made your way back down the main street.

The atmosphere was even livelier than before, with more guests mingling among the hosts, their faces alight with excitement and curiosity.

A couple of men sat outside a shop, their hats tipped low over their eyes as they chatted, while a woman in a bright red dress twirled a parasol, her eyes scanning the crowd with a practiced gaze.

Kiro's grip on your arm was firm but gentle as she pulled you along, her enthusiasm bubbling over as she pointed out various sights along the way. "Look, there's the sheriff's office!" she exclaimed, practically bouncing on her toes. "And over there's the general store. We should totally check that out later."

As you approached the saloon, you could hear the faint strains of music drifting through the air, mingling with the sound of laughter and clinking glasses.

You glanced up as you approached, your eyes tracing the elegant script of the sign hanging above the entrance. Mariposa Saloon, it read, the letters etched in gold against a backdrop of dark wood, a pair of butterfly wings painted delicately on either side.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever lay beyond those swinging doors.

Kiro nudged you with her elbow, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "Ready?" she asked, her voice barely containing her eagerness.

You nodded, pushing through the doors and stepping inside. The first thing that hit you was the smell—a heady mix of cigar smoke, polished wood, and the sweet, slightly tangy scent of whiskey.

It was almost overwhelming, yet oddly inviting, like stepping into another world entirely.

The low hum of conversation filled the air, punctuated by the clink of glasses and the occasional burst of raucous laughter.

The saloon was packed. Men in dust-covered coats and wide-brimmed hats leaned against the bar, their boots scuffing the polished floor as they chatted and laughed with each other.

A group of cowboys sat around a table near the back, cards in their hands and suspicious looks on their faces as they eyed one another over the pot of coins in the center.

Near the front, a few of the saloon's workers, dressed in vibrant, corset-style dresses, drifted gracefully through the crowd, their eyes sharp as they scanned for potential customers.

And then there was the music.

A piano in the corner was being played with enthusiasm, the lively melody filling the room and blending with the soft, sultry voice of the showgirl on stage. She was stunning, her sequined dress catching the light as she swayed to the rhythm, her voice weaving a spell over the crowd as she sang of love and loss and whiskey.

"Damn," Kiro breathed beside you, her eyes wide with awe as she took in the scene. "It's like we've stepped back in time."

You nodded, unable to tear your gaze away from the showgirl for a moment longer. "Yeah, it really is something," you murmured, feeling that familiar, intoxicating sense of wonder settle over you.

Kiro's hand on your arm brought you back to the present, and you followed her as she made a beeline for the bar.

The bartender, a handsome man with a chiseled jaw and a roguish smile, glanced up as you approached. He threw a towel over his shoulder, his eyes twinkling with a hint of amusement as he took in the two of you.

"Well, now," he drawled, leaning against the counter with a practiced ease. "What can I get you fine ladies tonight?"

Kiro's eyes narrowed playfully as she pushed herself up onto the bar, leaning over it just enough to draw the bartender's gaze. "Depends," she purred, her voice dropping into a low, seductive lilt. "What do you have that's strong enough to make a girl forget her name but sweet enough to have her calling yours?"

The bartender’s grin widened, his gaze flicking down to her lips before returning to her eyes. "I think I've got just the thing," he said, his tone matching hers. He reached under the bar, pulling out a bottle of amber liquid and two glasses. "You like bourbon, darlin'?"

"Love it," Kiro replied, her smile matching the bartender’s as she watched him pour the drinks with a practiced hand.

You rolled your eyes, a fond smile tugging at your lips as you watched the two of them. This was classic Kiro—bold, confident, and utterly unafraid to go after what she wanted, even if it was just a bit of flirtation with a good-looking bartender.

The bartender slid the glasses across the counter, his fingers brushing lightly against Kiro's as she reached for hers. "There you go," he said, his voice warm and smooth. "A drink strong enough to make you forget anything you want. And if you're looking for more than just the drink, well…" He leaned in a little closer, his smile turning wicked. "I'm here all night."

Kiro's laugh was low and throaty as she picked up her glass, taking a slow sip while keeping her eyes locked on his. "I'll keep that in mind," she said, her voice a soft purr.

You shook your head, chuckling softly as you picked up your own drink. Turning away from the bar, you took a sip, savoring the burn of the bourbon as it slid down your throat.

It was good—smooth and strong, with just a hint of sweetness.

As you let your gaze wander around the room, you took in the scene before you. At one table, a group of cowboys were deep in a game of cards, their faces tense as they watched each other’s hands with keen eyes.

Nearby, one of the saloon workers, a woman in a bright green dress, leaned over a gentleman’s shoulder, her fingers trailing lightly down his arm as she whispered something in his ear. He laughed, tipping his hat back as he glanced up at her with a wide grin.

On the stage, the showgirl continued to sing, her voice filling the room with its sultry tones. She twirled, her dress sparkling in the light, and you couldn’t help but be drawn in by her performance, the way she seemed to captivate everyone in the room.

It really did feel like you'd been transported to the past, to some forgotten corner of the world where anything was possible and reality was just a distant memory.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to get lost in it, the drink warming you from the inside as you leaned back against the bar, the weight of the real world falling away.

Kiro's laughter pulled you back, and you turned to see her still chatting with the bartender, her eyes bright with excitement.

You smiled, raising your glass in a silent toast to her.

Your eyes drifted lazily around the room, taking in the lively atmosphere and the myriad of stories unfolding around you.

Then, your gaze snagged on a figure seated in the far corner of the saloon, half-hidden in the shadows. Your heart immediately skipped a beat, the breath catching in your throat.

It was him.

He sat alone, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as he nursed a drink, his eyes fixed on the stage with an intensity that bordered on sadness, frustration etched in the lines of his brow.

His skin, a rich dark brown, contrasted sharply with the crisp, tailored suit he wore—an outfit that screamed sophistication and wealth, a stark difference from the dust-covered patrons that filled the room.

He looked like he had stepped out of another world, his presence commanding yet somehow withdrawn.

His suit was a deep charcoal gray, the fine wool perfectly fitted to his frame. His polished boots, gleaming faintly in the dim light, tapped lightly against the floorboards, the only hint of movement in his otherwise still figure.

He held his glass loosely in one hand, the amber liquid inside catching the light as he swirled it absently before taking a slow sip of his drink, his jaw clenching as he swallowed.

For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade, the noise of the saloon dimming to a distant hum as you watched him. Before you could find yourself getting lost in your thoughts, a tap on your shoulder jolted you back to reality.

You turned to see Kiro watching you with a raised brow, her eyes narrowing slightly in concern. "Hey, you okay? Did something happen?" she asked, her voice cutting through the haze that had enveloped your mind. "What are you looking at?"

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat as if you'd been caught doing something you weren't supposed to. Your eyes flicked back to the corner where he sat, your gaze lingering for just a moment before snapping back to Kiro.

You felt your face flush, a wave of heat crawling up your neck as you struggled to find your words. "I—it's nothing," you stammered, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I wasn't looking at anything."

Kiro gave you a look, one eyebrow arched high, her lips quirking into a skeptical smirk.

Normally, she would have pressed you for details, teasing you relentlessly until you either spilled the truth or begged her to stop. But tonight, she just tilted her head slightly, studying you for a moment longer before shrugging and turning back to the bartender, her previous flirtatious grin sliding back into place.

"Okay, if you say so," she murmured, her tone light, but her eyes lingered on you a beat longer than usual before she turned her attention back to the handsome man behind the bar, her laughter ringing out as he said something that made her giggle, her hand lightly brushing against his as she leaned closer.

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding, your shoulders slumping in relief.

But no matter how much you tried to focus on the drink in your hand or the conversation buzzing around you, your eyes kept wandering back to him.

You wanted to go to him, but the thought of breaking the fragile distance between you was terrifying.

So, instead, you stayed where you were, sipping your drink and trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened every time your gaze found him.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of laughter and music, Kiro's voice occasionally breaking through your haze as she dragged you into a conversation or made you clink glasses with her in some impromptu toast.

A/N: hey guys, hope you enjoyed my lil creation of westworld x alien: romulus, andy. tbh im so in love with the concept jajajaj...part 2 will be up tomorrow, trying not to spam posts...