#but with a twist!
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look I think you all knew this was coming lol
#kinnporsche#kinnporsche the series#kinnporsche fanart#kenbig#big kinnporsche#ken kinnporsche#nodt nutthasid#perth nakhun#bl tag#userpharawee#I can never resist a good bandwagon so I had to do it to them#but with a twist!#because ken is many things but goofy is not one of them lmao
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Pixlriffs sees the world as it used to be.
At first, he's nothing special. The archeologist's guild relocates him to the Ancient Capital, where he sits for hours in the blistering heat, hikes across hills and cliffs and mountains, even delves into caves armed only with a torch and feeble sword--he's a historian, not a mercenary--to catalog a massive diamond-infested ribcage the neighboring Sheriff discovered during his spelunking trip.
He mines and farms to keep his little patchy settlement alive. He brushes fossils and restores paintings and is careful, so careful, with the crumbling stone and the withering grass. He does his job, and his research, and does his best to restore the past with gentle hands.
Perhaps it is his gentleness that gifts him the visions.
His hand brushes through the rising columns of houses made from basalt and deepslate, through the walls as if he's the ghost. It's disorienting, at first, to reach out and be met with nothing. He calls it a vision, because it's far too vivid to be a mirage, and he does his best to ignore it.
But something about the ruins haunts him while he tries to work. Something stirs in his heart as he watches the walls flicker and shift, and he feels… he feels longing, deep in his ribs.
Maybe that's why, the next day, he picks up his tools and gets to work.
Pixl knows what his job is. Preserve, restore, discover, record. This isn't what the guild authorized.
But the instinct to bring the vision to life, to put it where it belongs, is insistent.
Building, as it turns out, is much more difficult than restoring. He gets the hang of it, though, and the blueprints that he sees each time he blinks are helpful, if maddening. The itch in his ears is resolved once the ruins are no longer cobbled, and the frame of a long-destroyed home is returned.
He knows his strengths, though. It's not returned to its former glory. But the house is once again standing where it belongs, and it fills him with awe and longing and emotions he can't even begin to describe.
It's only a house, but it's inexplicably, indescribably right for it to sit on the crest of that hill, nestled between his wheat and the slowly wearing path to the campfire.
He brought it back from the past. He brought something back to life. He feels warm, like peace has settled into his stomach and given him time to rest, and to work.
The next time he sees something that isn't there, the peace is obliterated, and he is filled with apprehension.
There is no way he could build that.
The bridge spans for miles upon miles. It is absolutely massive, with twelve towers digging deep into the river, and it screams to be a symbol of pride, of honor, of unity. It is regal, tall, brilliant. He is washed in awe to bear witness, but he knows his limits.
He's just an archeologist. He can't do that.
So Pix tries ignoring it.
He spends the day working, getting his hands dirty. It's easy to turn his back on the vision in the distance, while the sun is high. He focuses on the discovery of the catacombs, of trading with the other… 'rulers', they call themselves, expanding his area.
The night is a different story.
Pix is a light sleeper. He tosses and turns on a good night. But he can't close his eyes, and he can't stop thinking about the bridge. His muscles still ache just from the little house across his field.
He tries to reassure himself--maybe it's a mirage. Go to sleep, Pix. Everything will be normal in the morning.
When the voices speak, he thinks he's lost his mind.
It is a big thing to undertake, but we are with you.
"Who?" he starts, choking on his saliva and nearly landing on the floor beside his bed.
The Great Bridge must be build again, they whisper, low and conspiratorial and ageless, and you, with your gentle hands, and your fire, are the one to do so.
"I… who are you?"
The voices don't answer.
There are voices in his head. He's losing it.
He thinks. He clings to the sheets of his cot, and he prays to whoever is listening that he's not going just as crazy as whatever Joel has going on.
"I can't do that," he says, hushed and bewildered. "I'm… I'm just a man, I can't do that."
Heroes like to say that, they whisper sadly. But do not fear. We are with you.
The vision fills his mind once again. The Great Bridge, miles above the sea level from where it once was, in glory and in greatness.
A symbol of unity.
"Okay," he says, voice small. "I'll… I'll try."
After that, he loses time.
He remembers his knees scraping against sharp stone and getting soaked from falling into the river several times. He remembers calloused palms and burning skin. He remembers building. Working.
He's good at that. Working.
When he feels himself again, he is kneeling, covered in dust, with bloody knees and aching hands, in the center of a bridge a million times his size, and he feels like the world has woken up.
There are voices in his ears, cheering to him. He is laughing, helpless.
This is what he was made for. Restoration. This, the thing he's collapsed on top of, this is history.
He doesn't know how long he stays there, kneeling on the bridge. Someone swoops by and asks if he's alright, and he answers yes, feeling light. He's never been better, he says.
They fly away rather quickly, but he hears their elytra spiral around the bridge for many seconds before it fades into the distance.
Hero, the voices whisper. We are with you.
He goes home, and he sleeps for three days, and then everything goes back to normal. He tends to the wheat and the cows and the froglights. He eats, and cleans his bloodied knees, and speaks with the rulers, and trades.
He is complimented on the bridge for weeks after. Even Joel, the eleven-foot god, stops by to leave a small floating bedroom in one of the towers. The rulers seem to have accepted him in their world, and he feels the stories move along around him. The blueprints are gone from behind his eyelids, now that he sees the true buildings before him every day.
The next vision is different.
Pix wakes up, in the middle of the night, forced out of his bed by something akin to fear, to anxiety. It stirs in him, pulses and ties his stomach to knots, and his gaze is frantic as he tries to discover the perceived threat.
His eyes land upon a statue that certainly wasn't there when he went to sleep.
There is a woman.
She towers. She is strong, in all but the material that builds her; she is love, she is strength, she is mothering kindness, and she is light, in everything, she is light.
She holds a sword, but her arms are open. Her hair is long, in waves; and behind her spreads wings, and behind her still a circlet of gold like the sun behind her.
Santa Perla, the voices whisper, and they ache equally with longing and joy.
When his gaze meets hers, the fear calms.
Santa Perla.
The night is high, and the air is cold, and the monsters are angrier than most, but he picks up a shulker, and he works.
Pix remembers the moment before, when her gaze is locked on him, melancholic and ageless. And he remembers the moment after, when she stands tall, in glory, looking to the horizon, gracing the land with light.
His fingers are bleeding from the stone, his eyes are dry and his stomach is howling and the sun is setting, but the peace fills him and he can't stop smiling.
She has returned, he thinks, and it is right.
"Are you there?" he asks the voices, once he's brushed the final dust from the stone. "I did it. She's back."
We are with you, they whisper. The air around him shimmers, cool against his burning skin. We are grateful.
He laughs, breathless and achy. "What's next?"
Wait, hero. You have served us well. Rest, and we will return.
"I'm no hero," he says, and is met only with silence.
It continues. The gates are shaky in his mind, like a mirage in the desert. The museum grows to be a constant, the voices murmuring soft in his head as he adds history into reality. The castle, oh, the castle, it is bigger than he could ever imagine.
But the bridge was just as big, and the voices just as strong. Hero, they call him, and he finds the word fits on his shoulders.
So he puts down his feet and he gets to work.
He builds and discovers history as he creates it. With every piece he restores, he stills the stirring in his chest, and he feels more like himself.
He works, and he grows, and he learns. He is called hero and he is called king.
Pixlriffs sees the past as reality, and he brings it all back to life.
ao3 link here, inspired by @darubyprincxx and their post on pix's lightmatica wristband actually being visions. i love my prophet!pix headcanons. sue me.
#pixlriffs empires#empires pixl#empires s2#empires smp 2#prophet pixlriffs#but with a twist!#some religious undertones#santa perla#pixlriffs#ancient capital empires#empires fanfic#empires fic#empires smp fic#dm for tags!!
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Ghosts That We Knew
T | 6 chapters | Inverse biodad AU
Peter has an engineering degree from MIT, a Master’s from Columbia, and he can’t quite put two and two together at the package in front of him.
It’s not until he brings the papers up, when a small photograph falls out from them that Peter’s mind starts snapping the pieces together, connecting the dots even as his stomach drops.
A small, dark-haired child smiles up at him, brown eyes gleaming. Peter could only guess the kid was a year old, maybe two, Peter had little experience with kids he has no idea - but it’s when he turns the photograph over that the final puzzle piece snaps into place.
"His name is Anthony, but I call him Tony.”
“He’s yours."
Read now on AO3
#petermj#spideychelle#petermjane#irondad#biodad AU#but with a twist!#I don’t think I’ve ever seen an inverse of this#and that’s why I started writing this YEARS ago#it’s finally finished#I still don’t think this exists
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Thesean
Knowing, it turns out, made all the difference.
0.8k words, post-canon, Reiji and Leo Akaba having a moment
Read on AO3
#but with a twist!#yugioh#yugioh arc-v#Reiji Akaba#Leo Akaba#mind the AO3 tags#I forgot to link this on tumblr when I posted it and only remembered recently whoops#Vio writes
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Peace and love
#pink posts#i saw a tweet that was like “i see other people's art” --> i get discouraged#i understand that seeing art that is prettier than yours can be discouraging but why not twist that a bit?#why does it look prettier to you? is it the colors#is it the textures they used? the brushes?#study them and try to put your spin on it#and maybe you'll find your art beautiful as well
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truly just learn the phrase "I did not like this" instead of trying to give some moral or ethical reasoning behind why it's actually evil and morally wrong and problematic. you are allowed to just not like things because they're not good in your personal opinion, they don't have to be problematic you can just not like them
#like. you can just dislike things. they don't need to be twisted and forced into frameworks that would be problematic first#toooooo many people acting foolishly on the internet today
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most insane reddit comment i've gotten is someone saying that they had a brief catholic phase because "sex should be for procreation only" just seemed "right" to them. And then they realized they were an atheist but had a breeding kink.
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bring back zooterkins, the best 17th-century swear word
I don't normally do Just Characters Swearing, but. ...this kind of wrote itself and then wouldn't leave my head. it comes from both a piece of character-writing advice that has always stuck with me, and also my conviction that Leona is 1000% funnier as a character if his dialogue has to stay G-rated. let Kalim say fuck, but don't let Leona say bastard.
(I'm sorry)
#art#twisted wonderland#(sort of atemporally somewhere between episodes 6 and 7?)#(i - i wanted that lilia joke okay)#long post#tumblr went 'you can post up to 30 images now :)' and i was like well okay then#anyway once again i'm sorry#i'd say i don't know why i did this but actually it is because i wanted kalim to scandalize everyone#i tried to keep it...you know...tasteful. a tasteful amount of fucks.#hey remember how the framing premise for the original birthday interviews was that yuu worked for the school paper#because i have never forgotten. in my head they are still getting up to all kinds of wacky reporting hijinks.
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brother i’m going to be honest with you. i don’t give a fuck if he’s “redeemable” or not. what is this, the checkout counter? he’s not a fucking COUPON!!!!!
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[Judgement intensifies]
#avatar the last airbender#atla#fanart#zuko#azula#sokka#katara#fire hazard siblings#water damage siblings#putting them together for extra emotional damage#plot twist theyre all looking at aang and toph wrecking havoc#edit: rearranged the layout for anon
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Sea otter⁉️🦦
Floyd was so right about him.
#digital art#twst kalim#twisted wonderland#disney#floyd was right#otter#sea otter#kalim al asim#twst fanart#twst#art
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#i'm in love w this vid#video#the gulag#stormy shouts#it's lobsta friday btw. do not get it twisted.
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"I-It's a matter of life or death!"
#twisted wonderland#twst#jamil viper#ace trappola#kalim al asim#brohemeart#drawn sometime last year#everytime jamil says he hopes theres no bugs in the guest room i feel a little bad cause theres no way ramshackles not infested
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kind of wanna reinforce this here. because i’ve seen ai writing become so popular on tik tok.
ai writing is not okay.
it’s literally theft. just like how ai art steals, ai writing steals. it’s using authors’ very real work to generate whatever you type in. and this also needs to be said as well.
writing is a form of art. fanfiction is a form of literature.
seeing this all over my fyp is REALLY discouraging. fanfic itself is already a labor of love and we love it when you interact. but please do not use ai writing for your fanfic needs when this writing literally steals from fanfic authors.
genuinely don’t know if this post will go around because my interactions outside of hcs are shit, but i hope it does.
#twst#twisted wonderland#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst#ai#ai writing#ai art#ai art is stolen art#fanfic#x reader#gender neutral reader#male reader#female reader#anime
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Today is not only Malleus's Birthday, but also Lilia's 'rebirth!'
Happy Birthday Malleus!
#malleus draconia#twisted wonderland#twst#lilia vanrouge#meleanor draconia#I started this last week before the card reveal drawing it on and off while working#i wanted to focus on the history of trust and loyalty between a maleficent and their diablo counterpart#i gasped when i saw diablo on malleus's card ;v;#and then sobbed when i read his voiceline talking about how the witch of thorns is said to be loyal to her subordinates
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