#and i like knowing how my technology functions

[mirthfulmoonshine]

˗ˏˋ ✞ ˎˊ˗ No one expects the Iscariot Inquisition! (an excuse for me to talk about my hellsing ocs)

The Inquisitors are a special divison of Iscariot created shortly before the Airship Incident (give or take five or so years). It is a five-seat divison, meaning only five people can serve in it and each position has a delegated role. There are two bureaucratic roles and three combative roles but all five are tasked in the special operations and overseeing of Iscariot agent function and Iscariot's clerical needs.

They are demarcated through their medieval/traditional garb, primarily black with their trademark magenta arrow shapes adorning their clothes.

I like to think Makube would come from their ranks 🩷

Bottom: Calev Soler, Exorcist & Inquisitor

Newest member of the Inquisitors, Calev is a proficient and dangerous exorcist. He oversees Iscariot's exorcism efforts, including but not limited to actual exorcisms, investigation into paranormal/supernatural activity, and blessings/home visits. Calev has a wealth of knowledge on how to treat undead ailments such as disease, lasting wound damage, and physiological/psychological afflictions.

Ordained priest at 25, raised at Ferdinant Lukes since being surrendered to the state at twelve or so. He is Jewish-Spanish descent, his family directly coming from Catalonia. His coming to Italy was due to a family move.

His weapon of choice is a whip with a blessed barb at the end. Think Trevor Belmont. The barb can be changed out for a variety of different blades.

Calev is stoic, calm, and hard to faze. Despite his cool outer shell, he is tender and talkative once one gets to know him more.

He loves to bake goods for the elderly or sick he does house visits for. Calev is also a skilled skater, both roller and ice, and a gymnast for fun. As a result, he is highly dexterous.

Ambidextrous.

Middle: Chiara 'Perpetua' Ricari, Paladin & Inquisitor

More on her here.

Perpetua is Anderson's acolyte and aspiring lead paladin of the Inquisitors. Saved by Iscariot agents from a vampiric cult that destroyed her hometown, Perpetua undergoes and continues arduous training to be on the top of Iscariot's agent arsenal. While she has no specific ordained job out of respect for her timidity, Perpetua busies herself with the needs of the orphanage, often leading children's study or women's chapel.

Joined Iscariot at 17, now 28. She is the longest standing Inquisitor out of the three in terms of being in Iscariot. She is 100% Italian, coming from a small town near Bergamo.

Armed with her beloved double-blade war ax, Felicity, Perpetua is surprisingly strong in the field despite her smaller stature (she has a sleeper build lol). She is also the only Regenerator out of the three.

Her regeneration was given to her in the mist of being a 'life saving procedure' to spare her the damage she endured from her time as a captive in the cult. Though her regeneration is not as poignant as Andersons, it prevents many of her ailments and protects her from most attacks.

Her blood can undo the physical wounds caused by the cult's bringing of disease.

Top: Malachi Sawyer, Historian & Inquisitor

More on him here.

The leader of the combative Inquisitors, Malachi enjoys his primary job as Iscariot historian more than he enjoys being an active agent, killing the undead for good. Once bound to a forearm crutch, Malachi now fights the undead from the air, using Iscariot technology and blessed silver bullets. While he excells at what he does, Malachi loves being alone in his archive, researching historical conditions and contexts for Iscariot agents, missions, and directors. He additionally works the closest with the Grand Inquisitor to handle Iscariot's many legal complications.

Eldest combatant at 31 and the only American, hailing from Rhode Island. He is an alumni of USNA and Northwestern University. He is a former Navy fighter pilot.

Malachi has a large scar down his spine from a spinal injury that ended his pilot career. The crisis pushed him to go all in on History, where he received an internship at the Vatican. Upon seeing something he shouldn't have, Malachi struck a contract with Iscariot.

The Archangel Apparatus wings are a two to three man job to attach to his body, which has ports bolted into his body as the wings rely on muscular contraction to function. He has an emergency severance function to spare him from sticky situations. The wings are both offensive, defensive, and mobile.

Malachi is a gym rat. He loves hitting above his protein goals daily, lifting weights, running laps around the Vatican, and doing calisthenics in his free time. For him, working out is his therapy.

Unpictured: Aurelio Esposito-Santi, Grand Inquisitor & Esquire

The leader of the Inquisitors in full is Aurelio, the canon law lawyer tasked in handling all of the legal and bureaucratic repercussions of Iscariot's many escapades. Serving in the Court of Cassation, Aurelio eventually was pulled in for Iscariot's legal defense, hammering out the PR and legal remedies needed for the excessive damage done by Iscariot missions. He directly oversees the other Inquisitor's work load while also wrestling with the Iscariot director.

Aurelio is 39 and is recognizable by his more red outfit in comparison to the other Inquisitors and his piebald streak in his hair. He is Italian, coming from Milan, and has two cats.

He is not trained nor really capable of having combative prowess. He is a litigator, not a fighter, and at best can use a pistol in self-defense.

Yes, his life was horrible and vey very very busy after the Airship Incident.

Yes, he hates Enrico.

[cestacruz]

Drawing the messiest sketches is actually so good for my brain

[orcelito]

Wild to me that people choose to be in whatever field ever and here I am accidentally an IT person. Like some people went to school to be dentists. And what do I do? Look at computers, I guess. It doesn't feel like much of a specialty.

[godtier]

it amuses me how ppl will make PSA posts about how such-and-such platform uses "AI" and tells you to be Very Angry about it via context clues, but then the same ppl will happily reblog AI "art", even when it's very easy to tell and/or it takes two seconds to look at the damn comments on a post to find that it's AI generated, or that the very OP of the post tagged it as AI art, or answered an ask like "yeah I use a generator for the pics," or puts "I use midjourney to make the pics" in their profile on mobile, etc etc etc

I guess it's easier to screech about how an option in a program that you can turn off/disable within seconds and that won't actually do anything more than what your autocorrect or grammarly or siri or alexa or google assistant or photoshop filters have already been doing with/harvesting from your data for years now (spoilers: you've been using and training "AI" algorithms for longer than chatGPT has been mainstream! yes, it's basically the same concept!) than it is to do a few seconds of reading or double-checking to ensure you're not reblogging art theft and tagging it as "photography" 🙃

[absentlyabbie]

seriously, though. i work in higher education, and part of my job is students sending me transcripts. you'd think the ones who have the least idea how to actually do that would be the older ones, and while sure, they definitely struggle with it, i see it most with the younger students. the teens to early 20s crowd.

very, astonishingly often, they don't know how to work with .pdf documents. i get garbage phone screenshots, sometimes inserted into an excel or word file for who knows what reason, but most often it's just a raw .jpg or other image file.

they definitely either don't know how to use a scanner, don't have access to one, or don't even know where they might go for that (staples and other office supply stores sometimes still have these services, but public libraries always have your back, kids.) so when they have a paper transcript and need to send me a copy electronically, it's just terrible photos at bad angles full of thumbs and text-obscuring shadows.

mind bogglingly frequently, i get cell phone photos of computer screens. they don't know how to take a screenshot on a computer. they don't know the function of the Print Screen button on the keyboard. they don't know how to right click a web page, hit "print", and choose "save as PDF" to produce a full and unbroken capture of the entirety of a webpage.

sometimes they'll just copy the text of a transcript and paste it right into the message of an email. that's if they figure out the difference between the body text portion of the email and the subject line, because quite frankly they often don't.

these are people who in most cases have done at least some college work already, but they have absolutely no clue how to utilize the attachment function in an email, and for some reason they don't consider they could google very quickly for instructions or even videos.

i am not taking a shit on gen z/gen alpha here, i'm really not.

what i am is aghast that they've been so massively failed on so many levels. the education system assumed they were "native" to technology and needed to be taught nothing. their parents assumed the same, or assumed the schools would teach them, or don't know how themselves and are too intimidated to figure it out and teach their kids these skills at home.

they spend hours a day on instagram and tiktok and youtube and etc, so they surely know (this is ridiculous to assume!!!) how to draft a formal email and format the text and what part goes where and what all those damn little symbols means, right? SURELY they're already familiar with every file type under the sun and know how to make use of whatever's salient in a pinch, right???

THEY MUST CERTAINLY know, innately, as one knows how to inhale, how to type in business formatting and formal communication style, how to present themselves in a way that gets them taken seriously by formal institutions, how to appear and be competent in basic/standard digital skills. SURELY. Of course. RIGHT!!!!

it's MADDENING, it's insane, and it's frustrating from the receiving end, but even more frustrating knowing they're stumbling blind out there in the digital spaces of grown-up matters, being dismissed, being considered less intelligent, being talked down to, because every adult and system responsible for them just

ASSUMED they should "just know" or "just figure out" these important things no one ever bothered to teach them, or half the time even introduce the concepts of before asking them to do it, on the spot, with high educational or professional stakes.

kids shouldn't have to supplement their own education like this and get sneered and scoffed at if they don't.

[sbcdh]

“Oh gosh the fire. Yes it was truly a tragedy. You know, HECA79 was the prototype for the new regulation model. Well, haha, new for the time. It was the seventies after all. It really is fascinating. She was the first one we put in the class N tanks. Fascinating technology for the time, clever as the dickens. You see, the insides of the tank were to be lined with a thin layer of magnetically laminated gold calcite particles that formed a reflective lattice under electrical stimulation. A gold plated one-way mirror for brainwaves! I’m sure you understand, it was the best we could do for 1983-”

“So you subscribe to the, uh, equipment malfunction theory?”

“Huh? Oh! Oh. Terribly sorry. Equipment malfunction? As I recall, it functioned quite well.”

“So you believe the fire was caused by something else?”

“The fire? Oh. Well, I’m not quite sure. I don’t know the exact specifications, but if I recall correctly, there were all sorts of firebreaks and engineers and junior-engineers stationed all around –all helmeted, mind you– to make sure that sort of thing never happened.”

“And yet.”

“And yet. Indeed…Well, between you and me, I think It was one of the junior engineers.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh yes. We were a bit of a maverick bunch back then. Reagan gave us all that research money, but, well, its always a bit different when the wheels hit the pavement haha. Oh. Oh. I hope I haven’t gotten anyone in trouble. They were nice lads all. Well, some of them were Germans, but nice lads.”

“We are more interested in your observations of HECA79. I was told you were able to directly observe her during the incident. If there is anything you can tell us, please, speak loudly enough for the tape to hear.”

“Oh! Oh gosh. You know, I completely forgot we were being taped haha! And you caught all of my rambling! Well, I think I can help you out. Oh yes. Now. You must understand. A good half of this is going to be embellished. You know how memories go, you always get more heroic looking back as time goes on haha. But yes, I think I can help you out. Ah, where should I start?”

“What was the first thing out of the ordinary that you noticed?”

“Her lips were moving.”

“Is that out of the ordinary?”

“By gosh for a plutophant yes! At full emmanation, there is no part of them that is not the market! Every neuron soaked in hypno-amphetamine rocket fuel! Most of them –if you’ll pardon my language sir– shit their tanks the moment their Id touches the sub-finantial background grid! What do you think half those tubes are for! A plutophant in full emmanation doesn’t have a braincell to spare to keep their sphincters closed, much less perform something as complex as speech!”

“I see. Could you make out what the asset was saying?”

“Oh no. No, I’m afraid not. I can’t read lips. Back in those days, they were hooked up to a helmet, and then the helmet read the delta-wave patterns, and then printed that on magnetic tape. That way, we could feed the tape to some lob-, ah translators, and have them interpret the feed.”

“When did her lips start to move? What time of day?”

“Funny thing, almost exactly at 12:03. I should have been off at lunch, but I was procrastinating. I had a crossword I was right on the edge of solving. It was one of those big words that goes all the way across the page. TIMEPIECE. I remember that clear as day.”

“Interesting. I have here that equipment registered the fire almost exactly seven minutes later.”

“Oh dear. Do you understand what that means sir?”

“No, please, enlighten me.”

“Is that a schematic of the N class tank you have there? Hand it over. Thank you sir. So. Back in 1983, we didn’t have any of the fancy digital equipment we have now. Well, we did, but not to the same degree. Most of our equipment was good old analogue. You see this module here? These weren’t part of our system. No, we were waiting on the replacements to show up.”

“And, what is that part?” 

“Think of it like the uh, ah yes, the carburetor in a car. It keeps everything balanced. Keeps the subjects metabolism steady so they don’t chew through the drugs too fast, keeps the tank at the ideal temperature for chemical reactions, without boiling the subject like a lobster haha. But the key is, it was completely mechanical. But at the end of the day, it's just a bunch of tubes full of fluid that move based on pressure differentials.”

“Which means?”

“Well, heat would throw it off.”

“Here, I think we have a schematic. Now, doctor, this is very important. I need you to explain to me exactly how the machine malfunctioned, and how it would affect HECA79.”

“Well technically, it wasn’t malfunctioning at all. It was functioning correctly, just under less-than-ideal circumstances. Oh, haha. Yes, haha, but thats not what you’re looking for haha. Yes. Well. What side did the fire hit it from? Do you know?”

“This one here.”

“Fascinating. Well. Then, the apparatus would have uh, hm. Oh dear.”

“Doctor.”

“It would have spiked the hypnostimulant feed, while introducing impurities.”

“Which means?”

“I- I haven’t the slightest idea. It would've been deadly, I can assure you that. But its as if…Its as if you had a car, coasting in neutral, downhill at terminal velocity, and then you switched gears to high gear, and then slammed the gas while spraying rocket fuel into the intake.”

“Could we ask you to write a full report on your speculation?”

“Frankly sir, I am as intrigued as you are. You would have to hold my wrists to keep me from writing on this. Fascinating.”

ENCLOSED: FINAL READOUT OF HECA79

"BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD"[Phrase repeats over twenty thousand times.]

[sightseertrespasser]

Odds of Survival part 9

Jazz has an itty bitty teeny weeny severe mental breakdown.

Credit once more to @keferon for starting this au.

———————���———————————————

Jazz never thought he’d find himself deeply empathizing with the xenomorph from Alien, but here he was.

Doing freak shit.

A lone lifeform trapped on a spaceship with no idea how their technology works, no means of escape and no way to sustain themselves. Skittering across the ceiling and one wrong move away from murdering someone on contact.

Plus, I pop out of my mecha like an actual motherfucking chest burster. So I’m sure that’ll go over GREAT.

The parallels were compounding into existential crisis territory.

It got way too fucking close handling that checkup with the medic. Trying to keep his cool felt like he was trapped in an hours long quick time event. Every question had to be snap judged for the safest possible answer. Completely make shit up and risk getting caught in the act, don’t give away any information and they’ll know you’re hiding something.

Jazz juggled that damn Catch 22 like a professional. Thank you.

Case in point, while one of his mechas arms was still non functional, Jazz managed to maneuver his actual arm inside the cabin to grope around for some water to chug. Without disconnecting from the mecha.

That particular stunt felt like splitting his brain in half with a splintery wedge. The water was absolutely necessary, but the pressure inside his skull rang like an air horn zip-tied open.

Right now the only coherent thought he could form was the overwhelming animal desire to find a dark hidden hole and crawl up inside it. Then repeat that motion by disconnecting from his mecha, finding the most secure hiding spot inside that, and passing out for oh just a quick little 24 to 36 hours.

The pilot paused. Down the hall, mechas- giant alien robots- had noticed his disappearance. Even through the language barrier, Jazz would recognize the opening lyrics to his personal theme song anywhere: “Oh fuck where’d he go?”

Hidden behind rows of pipes, Jazz counted his inhalations until the thuds of metal feet passed him by.

Was the alien invader from The Thing scared? If it had finished building its spaceship would the Thing really have tried to take over the world? Or was it just desperate to go home?

Jazz was panting. Or maybe hyperventilating. He made a conscious effort to pull air through his grit teeth at an even flow. Even though he couldn’t actively feel his human body, the dull droning dread pressed through the disconnect to whisper “You’re running out of time.”

He didn’t know how long he had left before his stupid flesh sack would start giving out, but he needed to be somewhere safe when it happened. He’d make it. He’d make it because he had to to make it. He was the best goddamn pilot in the entire program and that was for one reason and one reason alone: Failure Was Not A Motherfucking Option.

If his options were do it the hard way or not at all, then the hard way was what the world got.

Once the guards passed, Jazz slunk along the wall, reaching upside down to fry another security pad, only for the door to open automatically.

Risking it, Jazz peaked into the room and not seeing or hearing anyone, slipped inside.

Once the door slid shut behind him, Jazz lowered himself to the ground one handed, scanning the room more thoroughly.

More screens, inactive. A chair and a couch. Miscellaneous wall kibbling, a table, cabinets. Windows.

Jazz gasped.

Glowing clouds of light, layered like sheets stretching into infinity. Star clusters like paint splatters on black velvet.

White and amber. A haze of something pink.

Unconsciously, Jazz moved towards the window, until he could lightly tap his visor against the glass. His field of view consumed by galaxies.

Back when they first launched him into space, Jazz had come to terms with the let down that all he’d get to see was a black slate and maybe a couple dots. The space station didn’t have many windows to start with, and all his space walks took place when the sun was “out”, so Jazz never really got to see as much of the Milky Way as his inner child hoped.

Now, the child was quiet. Face pressed against the glass, Jazz felt his throat closing up.

At least I got this. Even if I’ve got a half life, I got to see the stars the way they were meant to be.

He hovered. Wanting to find a song to match this moment, but couldn’t find anything more fitting than his own breathing. The rush of blood in his ears was still loud, but a white noise that could substitute for silence.

Like a marble rolling off a table, Jazz felt his stomach drop a moment before his conscious mind could follow.

“It’s wonderful isn’t it?”

Jazz had his arm cocked back to turn the poor fuckers face into a plate but locked himself mid swing at the last second. The mech had lifted a tablet to protect himself, and the move was such a Bullied Nerd cliche it stopped Jazz cold.

Now that his heart rate was breaking highway speed limits again, the angry radio static that was his racing thoughts drowned out any coherent thoughts of what to say.

The mech peeked out from behind the tablet and wow. That’s a guy. That’s just a straight up dude. Prowl and Elita were bulky enough that Jazz could at least imagine where a pilot could sit. But this guy? He looked like the only thing he could throw out was his back. Jazz didn’t even know “elderly twink” was a look possible for a giant robot.

Mystery Codger was staring at him. Jazz still had a fist raised.

Do something say something do something say something you fucked up you fucked up either kill him or start lying just do anything brain please.

“Could you help me find my glasses?”

Jazz faltered. “Wu- What?”

The mech uncurled from his brief defensive huddle. “My glasses? Spectacles? Ah, object-sight-improve-positive?”

The pistons in his arm faintly hissed as the tension released.

Maybe-

As if this was all normal, the mech gently set the tablet on the table, before squatting and squinting at the floor.

Maybe I just have actual brain damage.

Acting on mental autopilot, Jazz took the opening to behave like a normal person. Crouching and scanning the floor for giant alien robot spectacles.

“My name is Rung by the way. I actually don’t think we’ve met previously.” Rung said that last bit with an odd inflection Jazz didn’t have the brain power to think about.

“Jazz. We definitely haven’t met.” He couldn’t quite keep the exhaustion from making that last bit come out snippy.

Rung simply hummed and continued his search. For his part, Jazz was taking the moment to center himself, preparing the best mask he could on short notice.

How long could he keep faking it? Prowl had been with him since he woke up and he didn’t show any signs of needing to sleep. They had doctors. Prowl cared enough about his “health” to take him to one. If Jazz collapsed in front of anyone, they’d drag his sorry ass back to the medbay and it’d be game over. He couldn’t just ask for a place to crash or else he ran the risk of tipping them off he wasn’t one of them if they really didn’t sleep.

A faint tapping sound made him twitch in his stupor.

“Now where could the blasted thing have gone.” Rung was sat crossed legged on the ground.

With Jazz. Who’d vaguely crumbled into a kneeling ball under a table.

Jazz stared at Rung tapping his glasses against his chin. The orange mech made eye contact, and Jazz swore to god he caught him smile.

He reached out a hand, pointing, “Found ‘em.”

The smile came to fruition. Rung aha-ed and held his glasses before himself, inspecting them fondly.

“All that trouble for such a small problem. And all I needed was to ask for help.”

Jazz let himself sag slightly against the wall. Dully thudding the back of his head. “Okay. I’ll cop that was a good trick.”

“It did pull you out of your spiral didn’t it?” Rung said sounding way too smug. He pulled a cloth out from where-ever-the-fuck and cleaned his glasses with it.

He’d been seeing these mechs pull out and disappear objects all day like a bunch of Looney Toons characters. That kind of lapse in logic didn’t bode well for Jazz’s mental condition.

He let his eyes close, rationing his remaining focus.

“How’d you know that’d work?” He mumbled.

“You seemed afraid. You stalled out when you saw I was afraid.” Rung simply stated before he then asked rhetorically, “You’re a protector aren’t you?”

Jazz made a noncommittal sound. Lying was his first impulse, but he really didn’t feel like giving this guy more material to hook him with.

The mech laughed once anyways, “You are. Unorthodox too. I can see why you have such a hold over Prowl.”

That got his attention, “I do?”

“Oh yes.” He heard Rung shift into a more comfortable position on the floor. “Even if he can’t recognize the feeling anymore, I think you give him hope.”

Jazz wanted to laugh and he would if he had the energy.

Instead Jazz sighed. “I’m kinda at rock bottom right now man. And currently? Lil bit fresh outta hope myself.”

And ideas.

Jazz was of the opinion that any problem was solvable if you were willing to get crazy enough, but this was like trying to solve treading water a million miles from shore with only sharks for company. He either drown slowly or get torn apart the moment the sharks realized he was there.

“Hopeless mechs don’t stop to stare at the stars in wonder, Jazz.” When he opened his eyes, Jazz saw Rung staring him down like he was insulted. “To be hopeless is to let yourself die. Do you intend to die today?”

“No.” He challenged back, body minutely tensing.

“Are you willing to do absolutely anything to keep living?” Rung poked him in the chest.

“Yes.” He responded just as quickly, but there was a rasp to his voice. Something small and quiet. Not easily caught. Not easily killed.

“Even ask for help?” Rung quirked his head at him, shit eating grin growing by the second.

Jazz deflated, groaning loud enough for his mecha’s speakers to vibrate his bones.

“Look, I appreciate the therapy session doc, but asking for help is legitimately not an option for me right now.”

Rung leaned forward, resting his chin on a servo, “Alright then. List your current alternative options that you alone can accomplish, devoid of any assistance whatsoever.”

Jazz didn’t respond.

The silence continued to linger.

“Go on.” Rung gestured.

Cornered, Jazz could feel his horns pin back and a burning sensation in his eyes. He rubbed a hand over his visor even though it didn’t actually help.

“Where’s Prowl?”

Rung chuckled, victorious. The scrawny orange mech scooted out from under the table and stood, offering a servo to Jazz to do the same.

The brief rest left Jazz jelly limbed, which was evidently bad enough to translate to a faint tremble in his mecha. Despite that, Jazz didn’t take Rungs hand because there’s no way in hell that guy could support him if he fell. Elita’s threat over harming her crew was still fresh and shiny in his mind.

“You’ll find his office down that way.” Rung pointed out the direction. “Down the hall, turn left at the first junction, pass by two more doors, turn right at that junction and then keep walking until you reach the end of the hall. His office isn’t labeled but I don’t think that’ll be an issue.”

Rung opened the door and then took a seat in the chair next to the couch. “I’d offer to have Prowl come to meet you here, but I have another appointment coming up shortly.”

Oh uh. He actually is a therapist.

Jazz laughed humorlessly, “Why not invite them to join the party? Make it a group session.”

Avoiding eye contact, Rung fiddled with a stylus, “Ah, that would not do I’m afraid. My next patient recently figured out how to “bite” people by quickly jabbing his helm forward and I’d rather that not be your first encounter with him.”

“Ah. Gotcha.” Jazz simply nodded numbly.

He paused at the doorway, running the directions through his head again, before turning back slightly. “Hey Rung? Thanks.”

“It’s Rung, and you’re… welcome?” The mech trailed off, looking at Jazz with surprise as the door slid shut behind him.

Walking away, Jazz got about thirty feet before realizing he couldn’t turn his head too quickly or else he’d start seeing double. Feeling the countdown drop into double digits, Jazz hurried along Rungs path.

And nearly crashed into another mech.

It had a head like an old school security camera, a single yellow camera lense cycling down to a pinprick at his appearance. The chassis was crazy long and pointed. Out of habit, Jazz tried mapping out what the interior would look like. The pilot seat would need to be horizontal but it was pretty doable. The limbs were definitely on the skinny side but sharp and fast looking. Bonus points for what was definitely front mounted guns.

All in all, solid design. 7/10.

“Hey.” The mech rasped.

Oh fuck right, Alien.

“Sup.” Jazz replied eloquently.

The camera lense eye loosed, upgrading to a coin sized pupil and clearly looking him over.

“Empurata?” The mech said casually pointing to his legs and visor.

“Uh, sure.” Jazz shrugged.

“Same.” Nodded camera-head.

“Cool.”

The two of them awkwardly stood in the hall. Camera-head seemed content to block traffic and Jazz was mentally banging rocks together in hopes of getting a spark of intelligent thought.

“Can I peel off your visor with a knife?”

The mech held a dagger pinched between its crab claws and Jazz had to bite his tongue not to ask why it didn’t just use those.

Instead, the brain rocks came through.

“Rung lost his glasses.” Jazz threw up a thumb, gesturing over his shoulder. “Needs help. Now.”

Good job brain rocks.

“What? He does?” The mechs head popped up like some kind of fucked up goose, before shoving past Jazz, knocking him into the wall.

“HOLD ON DOC I’M COMING!”

The mech folded inside out into a mother fucking helicopter?! Charging down the hall in a whirlwind so strong Jazz could feel it through his mecha.

Jazz counted to five, and crawled back up into the safety of the ceiling pipes.

He blinks, and he’s staring down another hall. Left turn, two doors, right turn. . . Wait. Was that a right or left he just did? He’s upside down so everything should be reversed right?

He doesn’t remember blinking but the hall is at a different angle. New hall? Or did he just turn his head?

Jazz wants to press the heels of his palms into his eyes until everything holds still but he can’t. So he keeps moving. Keeps hiding.

And then he sees the most beautiful goddamn mech in the universe marching down the hall. Followed by half a dozen substantially less impressive mechs with guns drawn.

Stilling, Jazz remained hidden behind the pipes. Evidently alien robots had the same peripheral blindness to ceilings that human security guards did, as none of them noticed him.

Except for Prowl.

Through the gaps, Jazz watched as Prowl gave rapid fire orders to the armed soldiers behind him. Six mechs. Six guns. Three too many for Jazz to take in his current state. Prowl went silent and his wings twitched. Shivering, Jazz got the deeply uncanny sense he was being intimately observed.

The lights were ringing in a tinnitus B flat. He had the audio feed from his mecha dialed way too high but he couldn’t afford to miss any detail of what would happen next.

Whatever Prowl was said next, it must have been in his native language. Which Jazz found deeply unfair after all the work he’d put into learning Common.

The black and white mech turned to his cohort, waving them down the hall ahead of them. Prowl did not follow, wings still minutely shifting position. Once they were out of sight, Prowl turned on his heel back the way he came. Flicking a single piercing look to Jazz.

Silently. Shakily. Jazz skulked along the shadows after him.

He mental map was fucked. Every time he blinked, Jazz lost track of the most recent few seconds of his life. If Prowl wasn’t stopping every fifty feet to not-so-subtly check that Jazz was still following him, the human didn’t know where he’d end up.

Finally, Prowl reached a door at the end of a hall and entered without any delay. Jazz dropped, moving inside before the door could close again.

“Please don’t freak out.” Jazz cut him off before Prowl could set the tone of this conversation. The mech closed his mouth and after a moment’s consideration, assumed a tense but mostly neutral stance.

“I will not ‘freak out’.” Prowl looked like wanted to say more, but Jazz couldn’t afford that right now.

“Awesome! Because right now I’m freaking out and I won’t be able to keep it together if you start freaking out too.” He was pacing back and forth, not really seeing the mech beside him anymore.

“Jazz.” A servo caught his elbow, stopping him in place. “Where have you been?”

“Oh you know. Here. There. Ceiling mostly. Shockingly unrelated, but I think a talking helicopter wants to wear my face as a hat.” Jazz nodded way too enthusiastically in a manner he hoped translated into an appropriately manic “Please god help me.” grit toothed grin.

Prowl was momentarily speechless before physically shaking off the latest deluge of confusion, “That sounds like Whirl. You would not have encountered them had you stayed in the med bay like you were supposed to. Now I’m asking you again: What are you doing and why are you doing it?”

Audibly cracking, Jazz tried to answer honestly but found his voice locked up. He couldn’t, why couldn’t he..? Why was talking suddenly so fucking hard?

Meanwhile, Prowl just looked defeated. He rubbed that spot between his eyes, not yet letting him go.

“If you cannot provide a reasonable explanation for your sudden shift in behavior, I will have to assume the worst. You leave me no choice but to-“

“I’M REALLY SHORT.” Great. Fantastic. Incredible work brain. Take five.

Prowls optics flickered. Brow furrowing as he looked up at Jazz’s clearly taller mecha.

“That’s not- I mean-.” Jazz clasped his head in his hands, switching back to English. “{I- I- don’t know if this is even real.}”

Something was gripping his arms. Black and white appeared in his vision. “Jazz, please. I can’t help you if I don’t understand what’s happening.”

Common was easy to learn but right now it felt like Jazz was playing Scrabble with a bad hand.

“Prowl, where do you go when you- when you change-body-shape?” He had to stop to breath midway.

Please, please, please this is the last chance for anything to make sense.

But instead the mech slowly shook his head in disbelief, “Where do I..? Nowhere Jazz, it’s still me, I’m not ‘going’ anywhere. My alt form is not a different person.”

The mech gently pulled Jazz’s hands off his head from where he’d been stressing the damage from earlier. “I understand if you’ve never seen an alt mode before but your behavior, your questions, they’re not making any sense.”

Prowl stopped. Optics going wide as placed his servos on Jazz’s wrists. “Jazz are you Crashing?!”

“What? What is that what you call a mental breakdown? Cause yeah I’m having one of those.” He said a little too breathlessly.

“Sit-“ Prowl pulled him down to the floor. “Sit down. I’m calling for a medic.”

“No!” Desperately, Jazz grabbed onto Prowl who was helpless but to join him on the floor. The floodgates opened and Jazz couldn’t stop.

“No no no no, please god no. They’re gonna find out. I need to to tell you. I need to tell you myself. Just, please I’m begging you don’t do it. Give me a chance. Just give me a chance to explain, I don’t want to wake up on a table, please Prowler.”

For his part, Prowl was handling the situation as well as to be expected. He didn’t try to leave again but did get into a more comfortable kneeling position next to the panicking mecha.

“Alright. Alright, I won’t leave. Speak.”

Jazz tried tapping an alternating rhythm on the floor, giving himself literally anything else to focus on. He swallowed back bile and his thrashing fight or flight instincts.

“I’m not-“ Jazz grit his teeth. Telling the truth felt like trying to pop a dislocation back into place. Actually no. Jazz had done that before and it had felt infinitely less unnatural than what he was trying to do now.

Prowl was patient. Bless his heart, motor, whatever he’s got in there. Remaining silent beside him.

The pilot forced himself to take complete breaths, “l. Am not. The same. As you.” One, one two, one two, one two, Jazz counted in time.

“I noticed.” Prowl stated flatly, then softening his expression, “You hadn’t realized you were an alien until now, didn’t you?”

Jazz laughed a little too hysterically, “No, no I Fraggin’ did not. Please don’t freak out.”

“Jazz, you are hardly the first alien species I’ve ever encountered. At least you actually look like a person.”

The pilot got very, very quiet.

“Prowl, what do you think of organics.” Resolutely, Jazz stared down the floor panels, refusing to look anywhere else.

Momentarily, Prowl opened his mouth to speak and shut it again. He shifted to kneel in front of Jazz. Sharp optics darting across his frame. Lightly, Jazz could feel him trace something along his undamaged shoulder. He shivered against his will.

“Jazz.” Prowl got down to where he had to look at him. He spoke so, so softly, “Were you created by organics?”

Well, when a mommy human and a daddy human love each other very much…

“You could say that.” Jazz rasped instead.

He hadn’t even moved, but the energy in the air just went burning cold. Prowl went from soft to deathly serious so fast Jazz visibly flinched.

“Listen to me. You do not have to go back. You do not ever have to go back. I swear on everything I stand for I will not let another one of those things anywhere near you again.” Unintentionally, Prowl was crowding into his space.

Despite himself, Jazz just kept drawing himself in smaller and smaller as Prowl closed in.

“No no no no you don’t get it, that’s not what I meant. That’s not what I am!” He started quiet and steadily grew in volume.

Prowl wasn’t getting it. Instead, raising his voice to match, “No you are wrong! You have a choice now! You aren’t just your function and you aren’t just something they made to die!”

He grabbed Prowl by the shoulders, shaking him, “I DID CHOSE THIS. I KNOW I’M GONNA DIE, BUT THAT’S NOT WHAT I’M FUCKING TALKING ABOUT.”

“Then what ARE you talking about?!” He shouted back.

“I’M ONE OF THEM.” His microphone peaked, and his voice broke.

The quiet hurt. Anything that wasn’t numb hurt. He gulped down air and couldn’t keep more than one eyelid up at a time.

Prowl ground his jaw tightly, practically steaming from reeling back a sense of calm by force, “You are not shorter than me. You are not thinking straight. And You. Are not. An organic.”

Jazz only semi involuntarily rolled his eyes.

“Fuck it.”

He disconnected, and everything hit at once.

Vision went and came back out of focus and way too close. His ears were ringing too badly to hear the sound of his mecha’s chest plates opening, though he knew that they were.

Every fiber of muscle in his body was torn and screaming, he’d throw up later if he had the strength. Jazz did not so much stand as he did lift off the pilot seat and then buckle forward. The hard shell of his pilot suit saved his knee from getting gouged by the corner of the platform he was slipping off of.

That’s fine. He’d land on the steps.

Except, his mecha had been leaning forward hadn’t it?

Like a rag doll, over the edge he went. A huge and blurry and black shape rushing to meet him.

———————————————————————

Is Jazz capable of telling the truth when it’s to save his life? No.

Will he do it out of spite just to prove someone wrong? Yes.

Also, secret props to @somerandomcockroach for showing how fun Rung is to write.

Bonus bit, Prowl finally let his EM field loose far enough for Jazz to notice! It was bad.

-SSTP

<- First Last ->

[centrally-unplanned]

I was going through some archived scans of 90's otaku magazines, as is my sacred duty, and I stumbled on this ad for a Sega Saturn game I did not know:

The pitch of Roommate (as seen here) is that of a "real time" romance simulation:

What makes it real-time is that the game progresses in sync with the Saturn's internal clock. In that way [main girl] Ryoko is just like a real girl; she has her own daily habits and lives her life accordingly. So if you start the game in the afternoon, you might not be able to meet her because she's at school [...] The purpose is to enjoy living together with Ryoko in real time and communicating with her.

And this is exactly the kind of way-too-convoluted gimmick that sacrifices gameplay functionality on the altar of conceptual novelty based on random technology add-ons present in new-gen consoles of the era that I just love. Obviously the concept of starting a game and having the main girl not be present so you cannot play is completely asinine - but think of the realism!

Between that and the discount-Sadamoto 90's character designs, I wanted to see it for myself; so I spent way, way too long setting up a Sega Saturn emulator. In my experience early CD-ROM-based consoles often require much more bespoke set-ups to get working, in this case custom BIOS files in the emulator firmware directories, and JPN-language ones at that for this game. But I got it to work and oh yeah, this is some early "digital" console era crust:

Playing this game is just painful. The clock of course means that you essentially can't play it at all - looking at YouTube comments on the very few Let's Plays and such that exist, people are reminiscing about how they could never find Ryoko because their schedules didn't align. One person even comments:

This game is for NEETs and shut-ins

Which is a valid demo I guess! But it doesn't really stop there - your house is a "fully realized" 3D environment of bare walls which you navigate with clunky controls. Let me log in and take some screenshots...

Jesus Christ it's 10 pm and you are cooking dinner?! The one time I don't want this ghost popping out of the cracks in the floorboards, I swear...

Okay, got rid of her (She broke a plate -_- you moved in yesterday, girl):

You walk, in real time (step by step) through this pixel museum just...hoping that one of the rooms will contain Ryoko and proc a dialogue event based on the time of day. There is a little more to it than that but that is essentially the gameplay. This would, very obviously, be simply better as a straightforward visual novel.

But you see how that just isn't as cool in 1997, right? This is the era where the fidelity of graphics and the technology for simulation is progressing at a rapid clip, and everyone wants to see the boundaries pushed. Roommate isn't the first "real time simulation" game, but it is the most pure, the one fully committed to the bit. Your house is completely mapped out, the girl has her routine, you walk step by painful step through the rooms because this is "real", you are living it. They even use a live photo for the outside of the house to sell the aesthetic (and also save money):

Ryoko is waiting in the kitchen of that house when you come home from work, putting on an apron, ready to cook dinner. For you.

Assuming you get home at whatever fucking 30 minute window the game decided to gatekeep its gameplay behind! But of course I exaggerate - it wasn't that bad (there are little mechanics you can use to set some schedule times in the game for example), player tolerance for bullshit was way higher then, and you were expected to buy strategy guides for these things. So even though it was panned by critics on release...it was a sleeper hit with a devoted fanbase.

Which means it got a ton of sequels and ports! We don't have to go through them all, though I will share my favorite factoid about the first sequel - "ROOMMATE ~Ryoko in Summer Vacation~" from the wiki:

The character designs are significantly different from the previous game (especially Ryoko's brown hair and large breasts).

Priorities, baby. But some of the ports are interesting because of the changing tech. A version was ported to the PlayStation, which does not have the internal clock a Sega Saturn had. But coincidentally it did have the PocketStation, a handheld GameBoy/Tamagotchi hybrid expansion tool that did have an internal clock and could sync with the game. It also let you track Ryoko's schedule and play mini-games, with some very adorable animations as you can see in this ad for the product that featured Roommate:

This device absolutely reminds me of the Disc Fax system discussed in my Miho Nakayama essay - a very niche product biting off more than it can chew making games overly complex to play but allowing things that would otherwise be impossible (and this one was a good deal more successful at least). Here it allowed Roommate's central gimmick to function - and is super cute, honestly I would buy a standalone tamagotchi version of this game.

The PS1 also couldn't quite handle how the game was built for the Sega Saturn graphics-wise, and as such a bunch of the 3D elements were sanded off into 2D simulacrums - most notably the house:

Which, despite this being a technological downgrade, is way better! It looks adorable, you can actually see what is going on and where Ryoko is, and you can navigate it way more cleanly. God, did...hold on let me tab back to the game...yeah, is there no clock in the original game on screen. That is insane. Anyway the PS1 version had a lot of these cute little graphical additions, even right on the title screen:

It is definitely the better looking version, which is a classic tale - in 1997 the "bleeding edge" of 3D graphics were impressive to players, even through their roughness. Now they just aren't, and so the retro charm of designs that are optimized what the mediums of the time could reliably handle have a lot more appeal.

There was also a PC port in 1998, which did exactly what I suggested and added an "adventure" mode where you could ignore the clock system. They definitely learned over time what worked and what didn't; but the appeal of the gimmick is what first sold it to players in the end.

All of this is to say, don't play Roommate, and if you do just emulate the PS1 game instead of torturing yourself with the Sega Saturn version. Oh...you weren't gonna play a Japanese-only abandonware 90's not-even-eroge dating sim to begin with? Ah, well, yeah, I guess that makes sense.

Man I should translate it shouldn't I? So people can play it...

[pinkgy]

idk if u take requests but is it possible for u to write whb x reader that often wears revealing clothes? if u dont take requests then u can ignore this 💗 hope u have a good day!!

Hi ! Thank u so much for requesting !!

Sorry if it's too short :( Since it lacks a scenario I don't have much to write about this, so it ended up this way, also I read your other ask where you said something about this post being with a Fem Reader a bit late ... Like 5 minutes ago by the time I'm writing this, but I tried fixing it a little, sorry about that too.

Since you didn't ask for any specific characters for this post I took some creative liberties and did the kings and added 2 little bonuses with two of my fave nobles ;)

"𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗛𝗢𝗪 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗞𝗦 𝗢𝗡 𝗬𝗢𝗨"

𝗖𝗪: Kinda suggestive (Asmo's fault), tried my best to not make them red flags, bare with me, Fem Reader coded but only in some parts, Kings being kinda possessive, wear whatever you want queen don't let any man disrespect your style.

𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗔𝗡

He won't complain, but you can see in his face that he's not thaaat into your fashion choices.

It's not that you look bad, the opposite, you look too good, way too good actually, but he knows other devils that have two eyes and functioning brains think the same, and that's what infuriates him.

Satan trusts you and knows that your eyes and your heart are placed on him and only him, but still, other devils lusting over you is something that gets on his nerves to the point where he wishes he had thousands of legs to kick all of them.

But since that's impossible and he wouldn't dare to vocally manifest his disagreement, then you'll have to settle for reassuring him constantly that he has nothing to worry about, until your words eventually get to his head and he makes a switch in his mindset.

He'll leave you to do as you please, and in case anyone dares to give you any nasty looks, he has two fists and very strong legs to beat up anyone who dares to disrespect you.

𝗠𝗔𝗠𝗠𝗢𝗡

Doesn't give a fuck, it's your body at the end of the day, you are even free to walk around naked if you want to.

He buys you tons clothes, and if you don't like them he'll give you his card so you can buy them yourself, he's your biggest supporter, and he'll even get you your personal seamstress so you can get the best quality and original clothes that suit your style and your likes perfectly.

Mammon doesn't get bothered by others staring at you, they're his too so why should he care? Their greed to have you fuels him, but knowing that he's the one that owns you and that gets to be as greedy as he wants with you gets him going like nothing else.

He might get worried that you may catch a cold by wearing your preferred style during low temperatures, but Tartaros is a country with outstanding technological advances, he'll find a way to make you heated clothes or anything else so you can still wear what makes you comfortable without getting sick.

Or he could just share his natural body heat with you by carrying you everywhere in his arms, you choose ;)

𝗕𝗘𝗘𝗟𝗭𝗘𝗕𝗨𝗕

Loves everything about you, EVERYTHING, there's no reason why your clothing decisions should be any of his business, and he probably wouldn't even notice, until he does and just tells you how hot you look.

Beelzebub might not notice what you're wearing, but he does notice others looking at you (sometimes), but he couldn't care less until the looks turn into something else, that's when he bothers, but it's nothing that his flies can't solve.

Since a big part of his fashion choices lean towards the more revealing side, he would let you borrow some of his clothes, but make sure to return them unwashed tho, though Beelzebub insisted that if they didn't fit you you could get them fixed by a seamstress, but they wouldn't fit him anymore so why does he want them back?

Beelzebub thinks it's an amazing deal, you get to have his clothes that fit your style perfectly, and in exchange, he gets to have them back but drenched in your scent, what a great businessman he is.

He also likes to get you both matching clothes, take it as one of his love languages, he might forget about a lot of things, but he'll NEVER forget to get you something cute that he thinks you'll love on one of his trips.

𝗟𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗔𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗡

You would have to give him some time.

He tries, he really tries, you would have to explain to him a thousand times that you dress the way you prefer because you want and not because of others until he finally understands that he doesn't have to hang every devil that steals a glance at you.

Eventually Leviathan will begrudgingly understand, if 100 devils stare at you, he won't hang all of them, maybe 20 if he's in a good mood.

He'll also stop telling you to take off your clothes or to cover up, and he'll just give you dirty looks and shut up, be patient okay? Be grateful he's trying.

Eventually (And after reassuring him for god knows how long) Leviathan will realize that at the end of the day, you're his, and no one will take that title away from you, and the ones who should be feeling jealous are them and not him, so he'll just let them envy you both, he's still gonna hang those who's stare lingers at you for too long tho, you don't have a say in that, good luck.

𝗕𝗘𝗟𝗣𝗛𝗘𝗚𝗢𝗥

If that's what you like, go on, he pays no mind to such a thing, that's your body and he has no right to complain about it, and even if he did, that's too much of a hassle anyways.

It's not like he goes outside that much to notice others lusting at you, but he knows, it's just that he's too lazy to do something about it, he trusts you tho so he knows that he has nothing to worry about because, in the end, he knows you would rather cuddle for hours with him that pay attention to some lowly devil.

If your normal body temperature tends to lean towards the warmer side Belphegor won't leave you alone, because more skin showing= More skin to lay on to sleep.

He'll have Beleth buy you some clothes that maybe are too revealing to wear outside so you can model them to him in private, Belphegor may get a bit annoyed at first because Beleth seems to know your style too well, but that feeling goes away once he sees you, thank god Beleth knows you so well.

Bonus points if you manage to get your hands on a very bold cosplay of one of his favorite characters of an anime or Hentai and wear it around him, you'll have the king of sloth wrapped around your finder as you step into his room.

𝗟𝗨𝗖𝗜𝗙𝗘𝗥

Way more into it than what you would expect, it's your body and there's no reason to hide it, God created humans to not be ashamed of themselves, and Lucifer was proud that you were following his word.

Lucifer enjoys staring at you from a considerable distance as others stare at you and your revealed skin, maybe he does that just to feed his pride, poor lowly devils as they look at something they will never get to have, something that only he owns.

Contrary to others, Lucifer will give you his honest opinion if you ask for it, he would enjoy dressing you up in cute clothes, and he'll even get you some himself and feel like the proudest demon in hell when you wear them.

Just because he enjoys the boost of pride that others staring at you gives him doesn't mean he won't get possessive towards you, there's a limit to everything, and there's a difference between just staring and giving lusty looks and touching (or trying to touch) he draws the line there and those devils will face ruthless consequences.

His main worry is that you may catch a cold if you wear such revealing clothes in cold weather, that's the only time when he'll encourage you to cover yourself, and maybe he'll even try to force you to do it if you refuse, but he's worried okay? There's no ill intentions behind that.

𝗔𝗦𝗠𝗢𝗗𝗘𝗨𝗦

You could wear a sack of potatoes and he would still get turned on.

Lust is like fuel to him, so he doesn't mind others staring at you, that would just turn him on more, and to think that they can't have you because all of your lusty self is reserved for him and only him? Damn, he must stop thinking about that or he'll get hard.

If you were thinking that Asmodeus would behave normally around you when you have such "pleasing to the eye" clothing preferences you are terribly wrong, and covering yourself more won't make it any better, the damage was already done once his eyes landed on you

Also, more revealing clothes>more skin showing>less clothing>easier to take off.

We all know that he would rather have you naked, but since you may be against that then this works too.

𝗕𝗢𝗡𝗨𝗦

𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗔𝗦

Foras wouldn't take his eyes off you, ever, but he's a bit too shy to stare at you, so he often turns invisible so he can look at you all he wants without getting embarrassed.

He would LOVE to go shopping with you, if what you want is a partner who gives you a critical opinion about what you try on then Foras isn't for you because he would just tell you how beautiful everything looks on you and say that you look stunning in every singly synonym of that word that exists.

𝗚𝗔𝗠𝗜𝗚𝗜𝗡

It would take some time until Gamigin is finally used to your clothing preferences, in fact, he won't get fully used to it ever, but seeing you happy with your body makes him happy too, so he doesn't care.

Loves it when you model your outfits to him as he sits on your bed staring at you completely lovestruck, eventually he won't even pay attention to what you're wearing, and his gaze is only focused on you.

[vexwerewolf]

If I could ask you for some advice, what do you think helps the flavour text of a mech or piece of equipment sell a player on the fantasy of using it?

I'm finding it frustratingly difficult to do so with my own homebrew content: I can come up with lore and backstory easily enough, but re-reading it feels dry, and I can't help but contrast it with how the descrptions in official content and other supplements is more evocative, at least for mechs.

Let's observe some corebook Lancer flavour text and examine the various varieties it comes in.

Purely Functional

While it's usually not the most fun type of flavour text, this just tells us what the weapon is, and - if it has any particular tags or on-hit effects - why it's like that. The Hand Cannon is a good example: here's what it is (modified pistol), here's why it does more damage, and here's why it has Loading.

The main advantage of Purely Functional flavour text is that it provides space for other types of flavour text to breathe. Flavour text is a great place for jokes, but it's not good for every piece of flavour text to be a joke - the pauses between notes in music are just as important as the notes.

Obfuscating Vendorspeak

The Bristlecrown Flechette Launcher this is a great example of dark humour that Lancer uses quite often: marketing fast-talk to cover up something really unpleasant. The joke here is based on us understanding precisely what the equipment does mechanically, and then seeing how the manufacturer tries to sell it. There's a bunch of dense technobabble here meant to obfuscate the fact that this weapon fires knives in every direction specifically designed to kill infantry.

Deadpan Weirdness

The joke here relies on describing something extremely weird like it's the most natural thing in the world. Wait, you're telling me that in a world where I can just print new parts if the old ones break, they put DRM on my fucking knife and I have to apologise to the fucking knife maker to get a new one? What the fuck, dude? Why are you acting like this makes any sense?!

My sword uploads fucking what to the Space Internet?!

Third-Act Twist

This type of flavour text disguises itself as something else - most often Purely Functional - and then hits you with Third Act Twist. It makes you go "wait, what?!" It's very classic setup-punchline stuff. You're telling me my mech can rot?!

As a side note, Lancer loves to use this for its NHPs.

WHY DID YOU PUT THAT IN SCARE QUOTES, LUCIFER

Worldbuilding

This is similar to the Purely Functional, but instead of just describing technical specifications of the weapons, it puts the weapon in the broader context of the setting's history. Okay, so we know what this weapon is and what it does - why was it built? What was the original use case, and why? Most importantly, what can the existence of this weapon tell us about the world that build it?

Whimsical Aside

This is the insertion of a light-hearted, humanising little insertion regarding how this piece of equipment gets used in the field. This serves to remind us that soldiers aren't cold, unfeeling killing machines: they can be as emotional, irreverent and silly as the rest of us, and they do things like name their mobile bombs...

... or call resupply drones "mech snacks."

The Ominous Out-Of-Context Quote That Explains Nothing And Only Raises More Questions

As I've said in multiple textmash memes, this is basically Tom and Miguel's shorthand for "this technology is Intensely Fucked Up in a way that it is more fun and scary not to explain." This is essentially Lancer's version of SCP's [REDACTED].

You might think this is the domain of HORUS, and you'd be right, but every single manufacturer indulges in these - although IPS-N had to wait until NRFaW to get theirs:

What the fuck do you mean by that, Lancer?

[faggotbeloved]

Cold Metal Biting Soft Flesh | Yandere!Curly x Captain!M!Reader

1: Sanitized (~1k words)

Cw: Canon typical violence, my headcannons for post-crash Curly's wounds, no beta we close our eyes, body horror, lots of painkillers

This work does not contain smut but is 18+. Minors and fem-aligned people, please do not interact. AN at the end.

└───────────────────────┘

It had been only a few hours after saving a man from a three decade old craft when you’d determined that he was going to be under your primary care, aside from medical, from now on.

The man, as you’d discovered, was in fact the captain of the Tulpar. Upon inspection of his wounds, which only occurred back at the ship and with him sedated, Rhodes discovered the harrowing truth that he’d been in a state of third degree full-body burns for over four months. Worse still, he had one half-functional eye with the eyelid burnt shut though the other was severely dry, eyelidless, but still in surprisingly good condition.

Immediately, Rhodes ordered someone to get the passenger’s company issued bio-fabricator, a critical technology with the ability to take biological elements and grow genetically similar (but not identical) copies.

Technically, it was reserved for creating more plants or animals in a biosphere lacking most of the required succession elements, but it’d be easy to grow supplemental skin, hair, and blood to perfectly match the burnt man’s body. He also ordered silver sulfadiazine cream to soothe the initial burns, and for the first time since the man was in the accident he seemed to not be in agony.

──────────────────────

You sat beside the man. He still had his tongue and vocal cords, so he could talk (with much effort), but he was fully deaf so you had a captioning machine set up for him to read your words. Once he awoke, you silently showed him your badge with your name, picture, and title, which he read and nodded once he was done.

“Are you able to talk, sir? We need your name,” you said softly, watching as your head doctor, Rhodes, finally replaced the sticky, deteriorating bandages that practically cemented to his raw flesh. Luckily, the man was unable to feel it with how numb his entire body was.

He nodded weakly, eye never straying from you for long, and coughed. He spat up blood and saliva, to which you gently swiped a rag across his chin to remove it. “It’s okay. Take your time. This is Rhodes, he’s your doctor for now, but one of the passengers here is also a cosmetic surgeon and can start skin grafts once you’re ready.”

You sat back to give the man some space and idly wondered if the bio-fabricator could make enough connective tissues, nerves, and muscles to give him back his limbs. Rhodes left after replacing his arms and legs bandages, and soon the man tapped your resting hand with one of his handless arms and you looked back at him.

“C…url…y,” he rasped out. His volume was lacking, but he couldn’t hear himself so it was to be excpected.

“Curly? Is that your name?”

He nodded weakly. You spoke again, “Curly. Okay, and can you answer a couple questions for me? Shake or nod your head, if you can’t talk.”

Curly nodded, and you began questions. “Were you the captain of the freighter I found you on?” Nod. “Were there exactly five people, counting you?” Nod. “Did the crash do this to you?” Nod.

“Was the crash on purpose?”

He hesitated, then nodded very minutely.

“Did you–” you were cut off. “Jim…my,” he croaked. Well, it sounded more like ‘Jenny’ on account of his lack of lips, but you got the gist. “Jimmy crashed the ship?” Nod. “Did the crew know that?” Shake.

“Shit.” Nod. You chuckled at the nod and he looked up, like he was proud of making you laugh.

“So… do you have your ID with you?” you asked, and he produced a fresh ID from a lanyard under his gown. “Huh. Did Jimmy put that on you?” You asked, to which he nodded. “Was he your friend?” A weak nod. “Do you know why he went batshit? I mean, he’s the only one who could have killed all of your crewmates.” Curly tilted his head like he was wondering what you were asking. You rambled too fast for the machine to pick up. “Oh, yeah. Do you know of a motive?” Shake.

You glanced from the ID card to his face. There’s no mistaking those eyes. You notice there’s something written on the back, but the handwriting is awful. “Um, it looks like Jimmy tried to give me instructions and told a five year old scribe. Can you decipher this?” You asked, showing him the text. Shake. “Fine, I guess. It’s good you have this, facial reconstruction can probably get you pretty close to your face from then.”

He shrugged and laid back, gazing at you. “Wait…” he gasped. “‘lease.” Please.

“Yeah?”

“Stay?” He pleaded, using what remained of his forearm to lock around your arm and keep you (only barely) in place. “’m… s…cared."

“Scared?” You echoed, settling back into your chair and placing a hand on his thigh. “You’re safe here. Everyone who goes in and out of here has high clearance and I know them all personally.” Even still, Curly shook his head. “‘lease,” he echoed.

“I… suppose I could get Sealegs to move my desk into here. Would that be good?” Nod. Nod. Nod. “This is Captain to Sealegs, Sealegs, do you copy?”

“I copy. Whatcha need?” Sealegs hummed. The sound of a familiar video game caught your attention.

“Quit playing Snake on government computers, first of all. Wheel my workbench to the medbay,” you requested, only endearingly annoyed at your nephew. After a few minutes, a young boy with the same eyes and hair as you came in with a rolling desk equipped with robotics equipment, soldering items, and more. Curly seemed to relax once you situated beside him and the two of you slipped into a comfortable silence.

“Hey, Curly, can I take some measurements of you?” You asked after a couple minutes. “Arms and legs,” you added. Nod. Curly lifted up a handless arm and waited for you to start, to which you took diameter and circumference of his arm, approximate length, shape of the amputation, and more. You did the same for the other arm and both legs, then you sat back down to work.

──────────────────────

In a few minutes, you put your higher education to use and attached a crude prosthetic to his leg, but since he was numbed to hell it wasn’t causing him any pain. You worked, he watched, and soon he fell asleep painlessly for the first time in probably a half of a year or so, for him at least.

Once he stopped coughing every time you looked away for too long, you were able to get some work done and sent off an update to your boss–you told him that you had a new crew member on board, that you authorized the use of the bio-fabricator, and that you’d pay for his medical costs. Of course, you wouldn’t tell Curly that. Feeling indebted to someone is a terrible thing.

You were in for a long night. You wanted to give him the most mobility possible, but it’d be up to him ultimately to use them. The least you could do is build him the choice.

┌───────────────────────┐

I’m not happy with this, but if I didn’t get it out now it’d rot forever :( thank you to everyone who’s left kind words and reblogs and likes!! It means so much and if youve left any asks I’m so sorry but tumblr SAYS i have 6 asks but none show up :(((

[rekino2114]

Y/n trying to teach to Fem!Sukuna how to use a phone or him explaining brainrot term to Sukuna because she heard Yuji saying it.

Fem!Sukuna : Y/n, what does Gyat mean?

Y/n : *Slowly dying from cringe*

Dating a several centuries old sorcerer who got reincarnated in the body of a teenage girl can be......taxing

Sukuna doesn't really understand anything about the modern world, while she can adapt incredibly fast to most changes she notices, that's mostly exclusive to fighting styles and stuff related to jujutsu, technology especially is a completely new ground that she has no idea how to approach

"Y/n, what is this?"

"Oh that's yuji's phone, I'm surprised she left it opened before she let you take over"

"........what is a phone?"

"....oh yeah, I forgot you were super old"

"Don't disrespect me"

"I'm not, I'm just saying the truth"

"You are incredibly lucky I love you'

"I know, anyway, a phone is like.....a technology thingy.....that you use to basically do anything"

"That explanation was useless, if you wanted to enlighten me you didn't succeed"

"Sorry but it's kinda hard to explain what a phone is, it's so common nowadays that I never thought I had to define one"

"Is it a cursed tool?"

".......no"

"Can I use it to fight?"

".......also no"

"Then it's not worth my time"

"Come on I thought you were interested in learning new stuff about the modern world"

"........alright I suppose if it is for you I can make an effort, so what do you use this phone for"

"A bunch of stuff really, you can call people, use the internet, take phot-"

"Why is there an identical version of me trapped in this black box"

".......that's the camera function"

"........what is that?"

"......we're going to be here for a while"

[Timeskip brought to you by chibi sukuna and chibi y/n having a candle lit dinner inside of malevolent shrine]

"Alright so that should be the basics on how to use a phone, did you understand that?"

"I got the gist of it, however there is one more curiosity I'd like to satisfy"

"Shoot"

"What is a gyat, I heard the brat mention it once"

"................I'm gonna need to talk to yuji about that"

[dioslesbianwife]

Hello! I’d like to make a request too. It’s totally fine if it takes a while! My request is for HxH, specifically the Phantom Troupe, with a female member who has these traits: She’s a super intelligent genius, with incredibly smart and unpredictable devices—she’s basically the "Fix-It Felix" of the PT. Her inventions are always mind-blowing, super weird... yet functional! Her technology blends Nen. She’s known for being ditzy, bubbly, and silly, but can also be very sharp. Socially awkward, but really cool. She’s sweet, extroverted, cheerful, and a little odd and clumsy. Intense, obsessive, expressive, and hungry for knowledge. Has some wicked traits and a tendency to steal from others to fund her research, inventions, experiments, and/or theories. Can be prone to greed and the thirst for knowledge—there’s considerable conflict and reasoning between these two sides. She’s extremely curious and tends to meddle in dangerous situations and with dangerous people just to satisfy that curiosity. She’s nosy and honestly fearless when it comes to anything specific. Personality Idealistic, Sweet, Nice, altruistic, passionate about science, courageous, bold, and willing to conduct dangerous experiments. She was born into a poor family in the slums beneath her city. Faced hardships since childhood, both financial and social. The polluted outskirts gave her a rare, debilitating illness. Despite physical limitations, her mind developed without restraint, and she ended up modifying herself. She’s one of the founding members of the Troupe—the youngest at the time—but only officially joined the PT a few years later.

Appearance: Short hair always in cute little pigtails with colorful, adorable hair clips. Her hair is a reddish-magenta pink with light aqua-green streaks. Light emerald-green eyes, always wears a cap. Her outfits are casual/simple but stylish, usually with a bunny-print hoodie and accessories. Her clothes are colorful and/or pastel-toned. Fair skin, pear-shaped body type, chubby, with a broad bust. She’s small (162cm) and fast—really fast. She has a pet! A tiny, hat-wearing mouse with a Nen ability (developed by her) to multiply, named Sir Leptos P. Rose Murino Salmonellen. He’s a skittish and jumpy but fiercely brave and violent little rat with "ratistic squints." But he’s super, super loyal and devoted to the reader!

Sorry if this is too much, and thank you!

sure, it's not too much, thank you for requesting and i hope you enjoy!!

Chrollo Lucilfer

From the very beginning, he saw your potential. He didn’t care that you seemed clumsy or cheerful- he saw the fire under it all. That intelligence? That terrifying curiosity? That's what made you dangerous. 

He treats you like a ticking time bomb he’s both proud of and wary of.

Loves watching you work, and will occasionally stand silently at your shoulder reading a book as you tinker, startling you with a calm, “Fascinating... How does this device manipulate aura?”

He gives you free rein with Troupe funds and supplies- within reason. If you go overboard and steal from someone risky, he won’t yell. He’ll just coldly say, “Fix it,” and walk away. That look of quiet disappointment? More terrifying than anything.

Keeps a record of every invention of yours. You don’t know this, but he’s cataloguing everything you create.

Pakunoda

You fascinate her more than she lets on. Your bubbly way of speaking, the way you wave your arms around excitedly when explaining something incomprehensible to everyone but you- it makes her smile.

She silently watches over you like a big sister, especially when your curiosity gets you in trouble. She's the one pulling you out of bad deals, glaring down suspicious scientists, or patching you up after an experiment singes your eyebrows off.

She lets you test mind-based tech on her only because she trusts you deeply.

Sir Leptos hides in her coat often. She claims to hate it, but he likes her.

When she’s around, you feel braver and more emotionally safe- like you don’t need to pretend to be “normal” to be loved.

Shizuku

You are absolute besties, chaos twins, roommates in the "No Thoughts, Head Full of Nen Stuff" pipeline.

She doesn't understand half the stuff you say, but she listens to every word with a blank stare and a thumbs up.

Shizuku lends you parts from her vacuum without asking what for. You’ve rebuilt her vacuum four times by now. Once, it shot lasers. She was thrilled.

The two of you once got stuck in a garbage chute for four hours because of a teleportation experiment. She thought it was fun.

She thinks Sir Leptos is your son. You never corrected her.

Machi

Machi pretends to find you annoying, but she’s protective of you in the most intense big sister way.

You patched up her shoulder once with a healing nanobot bracelet. She never said thanks, but she still wears it- under her sleeve.

Constantly scolding you when you chase weird situations or dig into strange groups. “Idiot. You wanna die that bad?”

But if anyone else calls you names, she’ll have a thread around their throat before they finish the sentence.

Sometimes she brings you spare clothes when yours get ruined. They’re always pastel and oversized- clearly picked with you in mind.

Bonolenov

He's... very hard to read, but oddly fond of you.

Your respect for the structure and beauty of Nen-based inventions is what earns his admiration.

You once built him a speaker system that plays the exact vibration frequency his body emits in battle. He was dead silent for a full minute. Then simply said, “This is art.”

You ask him to dance-fight in front of your testing devices. He complies wordlessly. It’s one of the few ways he shows affection.

You gave him a bunny hoodie once. He still has it. No one has ever seen him wear it. But it smells like cedarwood and his incense- so you know he does.

Kortopi

He’s your lab buddy in silence. He doesn’t talk much, but you both understand the thrill of making things move and copy and twist in strange ways.

You lend him devices that help him enhance his duplication powers- he repays you with tools and raw materials.

Sometimes you communicate with sticky notes or odd contraptions that beep when he’s nearby.

You once tried to build a tiny robot clone of him and he watched silently… then duplicated it. Now there’s three.

You never question the way he stares at your machines. You just quietly push a notebook toward him when he starts scribbling.

Feitan

You are the most confusing person he has ever met.

You’re all rainbows and pastel bunny prints, but then you invent a grenade that turns people inside out and say it with a giggle.

He calls you "crazy mouse girl" or just “Nrd.”

But he respects the way you never back down, even when things go sideways. He’s even impressed by how you “modded” your own body to survive your illness. That’s survival at its finest.

He will never admit it, but he once stabbed a guy who insulted your hoodie.

When you nearly died in an experiment once, he stayed by your side and muttered, “Idiot should not scare me like that.”

Phinks

Your bubbly energy both delights and annoys him. You talk fast, you’re always touching stuff.

You make him some impressive gloves one time that he assumes are nothing special at first.

...But then he punched a boulder and it exploded like a bomb. You sweetly said, “Now with kinetic nen return amplification!” and beamed.

Calls you “Gadget Girl” and threatens to throw you out a window, but always shares snacks and secretly worries if you're limping.

He gives Sir Leptos tiny dumbbells. You don't know why.

Franklin

He’s the big uncle figure who gently reminds you to sleep and eat.

Will help lift heavy parts for you without a word.

He doesn't say much, but he watches over you from a distance, especially during battles, making sure you don’t get caught in the crossfire.

You once pouted in front of him because someone called your machines “freakish.” He gave you a giant handkerchief and told you, “Your brain’s a blessing.”

Shalnark

You two are the hyperactive tech besties from hell.

He pokes fun at your hoodie ears and sometimes dares you into science challenges.

You stay up for days doing collaborative projects, drinking twelve cups of sugar-tea.

He lives for the chaos you bring. Once he helped you make a holographic decoy of the Troupe. It danced. Chrollo walked in. Shalnark laughed so hard he choked.

He genuinely respects your mind, though. Will warn you if you’re in danger. May or may not be a little in love with your brain.

Uvogin

He thinks you’re adorable. Like a pocket-sized chaos gremlin with explosives.

He calls you “Boom Bunny” and picks you up and swings you around like you weigh nothing.

He LOVES testing your battle inventions. Especially the huge ones.

“WHAT DOES THIS DO?!” Presses it immediately.

He once tried to eat one of your colorful protein cubes and nearly passed out. You just said, “Oh no, that was for rocket fuel. Oopsie.”

Nobunaga

Thinks you're way too smart for your own good and doesn’t understand a single word of your science speak.

Tries to challenge you in duels so you’ll stop inventing and “learn to fight like a samurai.”

But secretly, he worries about your obsession with dangerous stuff. Tells you stories from Meteor City, hoping it’ll help you find balance between brilliance and destruction.

You built him a sword sharpener that also sings old battle chants. He still uses it, pretending it doesn’t make him smile.

You bicker like siblings, but he’d die for you if needed.

[castielscaplan]

Wands, Wizards, and Wi-Fi (Draco Malfoy)

Summary: you help Draco with Muggle Technology.

Warnings: an angry draco, but fluff.

WC: 500ish

@dawn-petrichor-world asked: I have a question. You know magic exists and one day you meet Draco Malfoy in a library struggling with a computer and secretly he tries to use his wand. Why will you do? Ignore him "destroying" public furniture or act like you didn't see his wand and try to help him. In my case, it depends, if he looks like a furious man I don't want to end up transforming into a frog 😭

A/N: we talked about this back in march of 2023!!!! i've had it saved in my drafts ever since!! lol

Read on Ao3!

--

The comforting aroma of old books filled the air as you roamed the shelves of the small, independent library tucked in a quiet corner of the city. It was a haven for you—a sanctuary where magic and reality seemed to blur. Of course, you knew real magic existed; you’d seen things you couldn’t explain, whispers of a world beyond the mundane. But you never expected to encounter it here.

At a corner table, a blonde man was glaring at a laptop with the kind of venom reserved for mortal enemies. His sharp cheekbones and tailored clothing made him stand out from the usual crowd of patrons. The tension in his jawline seemed to radiate frustration.

Curious, you wandered closer, pretending to browse the nearby books. That’s when you noticed the odd sight: his hand dipped into his jacket pocket, pulling out... a wand.

Your breath hitched. Was he really about to—?

He flicked the wand toward the laptop, muttering something under his breath. Nothing happened. The screen stubbornly remained blue, its spinning wheel mocking him.

Biting back a laugh, you stepped forward. "Need some help there?"

The man froze, his grey eyes snapping to yours. For a second, he looked almost panicked, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "I don’t need help," he said stiffly, slipping the wand back into his pocket.

"Right," you said, raising an eyebrow. "Because magic definitely fixes laptops."

His face reddened slightly, though he attempted to cover it with a sneer. "What do you know about it?"

"More than you think," you replied, lowering your voice. "I’ve seen magic before. And I’m guessing you’re not from around here, are you?"

His demeanor shifted, suspicion mingling with curiosity. "Who are you?"

"Someone who knows how to make that," you pointed at the laptop, "stop spinning. Want me to show you?"

He hesitated, clearly weighing his options. Finally, with a huff, he pushed the laptop toward you. "Fine. But if you break it, you’re paying for it."

"Relax," you said, suppressing a grin. Sitting down, you navigated the menus with ease. "What are you even trying to do?"

"Research," he said vaguely, his fingers drumming against the table.

"For what?" you pressed.

He hesitated again before muttering, "Muggle technology. My father insists we need to... understand it."

You couldn’t hide your amusement. "So, Lucius Malfoy finally decided to catch up with the 21st century?"

His head snapped up. "You—how do you—?"

"Like I said," you replied, fixing the issue on his laptop with a few clicks, "I know more than you think."

For the first time, a small smile tugged at his lips. "Perhaps you’re not entirely insufferable."

"Gee, thanks," you shot back, pushing the laptop back toward him.

As he examined the now-functional screen, his expression softened ever so slightly. "You’re surprisingly useful for a... Muggle."

"Who said I was a Muggle?" you teased, standing up.

You left him sitting there, his wand forgotten for the moment, as he stared after you with a mixture of intrigue and newfound respect.

==

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[sensiblereblogifposts]

Hi.

I'm going to break my very strict format for once because I need your help. For the past 9 years, the irl human behind this blog has been involved in the effort to save a museum from incompetent and money hungry executives.

The museum is filled with precious objects, telling the story of the history of technology, and how it relates to art and society.

Many of these are objects are large, but delicate and have been in place for over 30 years.

No one within the museum's community trusts the CEO, who was appointed by a hostile former government, and prefers renting out museum spaces for business functions over educating the public.

In a few days, the museum is set to close down for renovations. Yet none of the staff or volunteers have been given any clear details about these plans. All we know is displays which have inspired generations will be torn down, likely never to be restored.

We have a petition asking the new government to step in and stop the closure:

If you could sign this, you'd be doing the human behind this blog a massive favour.

[loveissupernatural]

Hicctooth Rant 🩷

I started watching the How to Train Your Dragon movies again and have even gotten into the series this time around (childhood nostalgia 🩷) and dammit if Toothless and Hiccup’s beautiful relationship doesn’t make me cry like a baby!

I was also reminded of how heartbreaking the ending of THW was and started digging into post-epilogue information. Because my fragile little heart couldn’t take the idea that Hiccup and Toothless didn’t visit post-epilogue.

Besides the fact that all previous HTTYD movies, shorts, and series established how deep and unbreakable their bond was, so it wouldn’t be logical for them to have this emotional reunion and that be “the end” - I mean, why would they introduce their families to one another just to go “Yeah, I know that was amazing - sorry, peace out” - but from a logical standpoint, Toothless’s tail prosthetic is going to need maintenance. They don’t make prosthetics today that last a *human* lifetime, so it wouldn’t make sense to assume that Toothless’s would last potentially hundreds of years with Viking technology. Sure, it’s fireproof now, but there’s still gears, mechanical elements, etc. that will be exposed to all kinds of environments and wear and tear. Hiccup is constantly remaking and improving Toothless’s tail fins throughout the series and movies.

Hiccup even mentions in the epilogue “How’s the tail holding up? Need any oil, some fine-tuning?” If that thing breaks, Toothless, as alpha and protector of not only his family, but the Hidden World, is screwed. A downed dragon is a dead dragon.

I love that with the release of the holiday special “HTTYD: Homecoming”, we see that even a decade after they parted ways, they still miss each other. Toothless drawing Hiccup in the sand, then Berk, then himself, and drawing a line from himself to Hiccup - it was beautiful. And so in-character for their relationship 🩷 And Hiccup building a mechanical Toothless costume that breathes fire and is so hard to function in that he falls off a cliff and Toothless saves him? Oh my heart ATE IT UP!

Toothless never saw bearded Hiccup, but he could hear and smell him, and was licking and cuddling that suit 🥺 Oh the “almost” of it all killed me, but it had to make sense with the epilogue. Toothless seeing Hiccup’s daughter and going goo-goo over her immediately melted my heart. His eyes were shining!

I’m glad that Hiccup saw Toothless and family flying away, and called out, so he knew they were indeed there. Then Astrid saying “maybe it’s our turn to visit them”. Oh I just love all of the implications!

Then “Snoggletog Log” - Toothless and his whole family in Hiccup and Astrid’s house for the holidays? SIGN ME TF UP! I’d like to think this was the Snoggletog after the epilogue. I think there’s evidence for this too, if you look at the size of Toothless’s babies. When Hiccup goes to carry off a sleeping baby, from head to tail, it looks longer than they did in “Homecoming”.

Then comes the newest piece of media - “Dragons: The Nine Realms”. I haven’t watched it because the animation looks horrifically baby-ish, but I did try to see what was mentioned about Hiccup/Toothless/etc. They found a cave painting in the Hidden World of Toothless with Hiccup and his family (inside the cave where the Night Lights, Toothless’s descendants, stay) and they also found Hiccup’s artificial leg, a working desk, books, etc. So at some point, our boys came back together and explored the Hidden World (can we get content on this please??)

There’s even a story in the book that Hiccup wrote about he and Toothless (and likely the other dragon riders, because that cage was huge) working together to build a cage and trap this enormous apex predator Snake-like creature - which was eating dragons whole. Apparently it’s the whole reason dragons are afraid of eels. The lock mechanism could only be unlocked by a fury with retractable teeth. Hiccup even used his mom’s staff to lure it into the cage. I loved this detail. Then the book illustration shows us a close-up of a bearded Hiccup and Toothless touching noses, and then their silhouettes watching the cage from far away. Also, all of Hiccup’s artifacts having a Night Fury on them? My heart!

There are mixed opinions on what’s “canon” and what’s not - in my opinion, if DreamWorks released it and said it’s in the HTTYD universe, then it’s canon (they own the ip). “Homecoming” and the HTTYD 3 epilogue strongly hinted at Hiccup and Toothless returning to each others’ lives in some capacity, even if it’s only occasional visits. It lines up much more with their relationship than the alternative (I’m looking at you, Dean - I fully believe he just wanted everyone to be as sad as humanly possible even though the character behaviors he’d established thus far didn’t align with the ending he was determined to have).

A lot of people feel that way, and it cracks me up that DreamWorks appears to agree. Everything they’ve released after HTTYD 3 is encouraging the idea of a post-epilogue relationship between the families. Then 9 Realms releases and we get official confirmation that Toothless and Hiccup kept having adventures, and being in each others’ lives, and it just made my little heart glow. Because THAT aligns with the “we are stronger together, our love can endure anything” message that all HTTYD content was about (until the end of THW🙄).

I’m so glad they came back together. It just makes sense for the characters and the strong relationship they built between them. I’d really love a movie or series explaining why Hiccup had to go down to the Hidden World again - did Toothless come ask for his help? How soon was this after the epilogue? How long did they stay down there, who was with them, and what all did they have to do? Did Hiccup and Toothless stay together until the end? I have a headcanon of them exploring Valhalla together 😭