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redstringraven · 19 days

Note

oop forgot to say

25 & 16 was for nyxram

>:D aaa, thank you so much!!! appreciate it! 💜

edgy/misc OC ask meme

16) what is your OC's pain tolerance like?

i imagine it's disturbingly high... to what's, like, probably an unhealthy amount. triceratons are tanks as a whole already*--due to their size, thick skin, and high-temperature tolerance--and here you have one who likely finds more nostalgia in certain pains than she does foods, smells or music (she didn't even grow up with access to music, so). yeah, nyxram is definitely one of those people where like. if you shoot her, you better know it's going to kill her. otherwise all you'll have managed to do is irritate her at best and piss her off at worst. she's not going to go down unless she's either dead or her body just physically gives out on her. which, again: not easy to do with triceratons in general. ...nyx could be standing in the meeting room bleeding from her side and be more concerned with excusing herself so she doesn't stain the floor or equipment than, y'know. the fact she has an open wound in her side. *they're hella nerfed in-series imo, and i'm gonna blame that on zanramon because he's there; don't @ me (lh)

25) what is your favorite thing about your OC?

gosh... i have a few, but for brevity i think i'll say: i love that she's a morally-gray character and also that because of the background i've given her, it's given me an opportunity to play with different approaches to triceraton combat and weaponized tech. like, post-rebellion nyx struggles with falling into old habits or old ways of thinking; she finds herself eavesdropping on her squad or traximus when she's quietly seeking '''moral guidance'''. she's a person who grew up in extreme isolation with, essentially, two serial-killers-for-hire as parents/teachers, raised and forged to kill. she had enough of a compass to realize she wanted out of that life, but now that she's out? she's having to learn, relearn, and unlearn all sorts of things. and there're times she falters; close as they've gotten, she and traximus butt heads about plenty of things. trax often wants to do things right. nyx often wants to get them done. it can be a lot of fun to think about how she might have moments of pause and internal struggle when it comes to choosing to listen to traximus or a squad member over something and trust their judgement, or if she chooses to solve the problem in a way she knows "worked" for her in the past. she hasn't been 'fixed' or made 'right' now that the external conflict of the old republic and rebellion has passed. the internal conflict is still very much there, and it's an interesting thing to get to explore. as for the combat/tech elements, i'm still trying to re-design nyx's suit to better reflect her as an assassin while also leaning a bit more into a scifi greek/roman-inspired look instead of something more based in the triceraton soldier's uniform, personalized tech included. i also want her to have a very distinct way she holds herself when ""working"" that makes her appear even more alien compared to the postures of triceraton soldiers. like, the ones we see in-series hold themselves similarly to how soldiers as we know them might--straight posture, kinda stiff, upright, grounded footing, etc. but when i picture nyxram, i tend to see her with her weight more on her toes/balls of her feet, and her posture slightly hunched with a wider stance. ...more 'dinosaur' or bird-like elements to her gait, presence, and overall silhouette, making her intimidating in a new and different way. "i've never seen a triceraton move like that", other races might mutter. ...some triceratons, too.

#;letters #tmnt oc #;meme: edgy/misc OC asks #;tmnt oc: nyxram #[ \eue/ !! thank you again! ]#[ fdjksgs will i ever be able to make nyx animatics like i see in my head; only time will tell.. ]#[ she's a mess but she's trying ]

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redstringraven · 29 days

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latest malev///olent update more like

#;radio static #[ me starting the ep: the divorce will be bad but we’ll bounce back i believe in them ]#[ me after the ep: sooo everything’s on 🔥fire🔥 aaaaand we’ve made terrible decisions in the studio today ]#[ my guy arthur lester is going through it part 79 the movie the sequel and we would like off the ride now ]#[ yikes ™ ]

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redstringraven · 1 month

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art brain is struggling right now, so here's my "semi-monthly meme that's only funny to me" to cheer up.

#tmnt traximus #tmnt oc #;hannah draws #;hannah doodles #;tmnt #;traximus #;tmnt oc: nyxram #[ went to the cafe the other morning and was doodling nyx while listening to malevolent!farming and i just ]#[ my brain's weird man... idk what else to tell you; have the usual nonsense xD ]

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redstringraven · 1 month

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Amber & Blood

characters: traximus and nyxram rating: g content warnings: n/a word count: 3061 relevant tags: grief/mourning, post-canon, canon compliant

"Have... you ever done something like this?" When she sends him an inquisitive glance, he continues, "...mourned someone?" Her jaw tightens. He’s seeking companionship. He didn’t want to journey here alone, and he doesn’t want to be alone in grief, either.

---- With the rebellion's success, the New Republic making slow but steady progress toward a better future, Traximus decides it's time to make an important trip. Nyxram accompanies him.

[ read on ao3 ]

She'd always thought the Trebai Archipelago haunting from a distance.

Scattered pieces of what may have once been a small moon drifted just beyond a significantly larger silver planet, its orbit slow and almost lazy. Long, tangled tendrils of grayed plant root and organic matter kept the dozen 'islands' linked in a cluster. The archipelago's origins predated their history; no one quite had answers for how the system had remained 'one' for so long, and even less answers for how its flora continued to thrive even in vacuum. Spots of vibrant gold, red and teal leaves, flowering white plants--even a 'river' that flowed through and between the islands in twisting figure-eights, unbound to soil.

They’d chosen one of the outer islands to land the shuttle, so it’d be a walk to the piece at the center. Ranzar had fussed--insisted he could easily pilot them further in--but Traximus held firm this was the safer decision. Nyxram knows it’s more than that. She hardly minds. The two of them will make the trek while the crew minds the ship.

She casts a final nod over her shoulder to Grax, who salutes her from the shuttle's ramp, before she walks to Traximus's side. They make their way across the rock toward the first of the thick, winding roots that stretches to the next island across. The gravity should be weaker. Even for their large size, they should float, drift, need to watch their surroundings for stray debris. But the gravity here is strange, too. They walk as though they were on a homeworld vessel.

"You've been here before?" Traximus asks, suddenly, as they step onto the root. His voice is clear over her helmet's receiver; clear enough to catch a stiffness in his tone and exhaustion he’d long been trying to hide. It wasn't the focused, but warm, cadence she'd come to know.

"No," Nyxram answers. "But I've seen it."

Traximus grunts, shifting the satchel over his shoulder--the spear in his hand. "It's beautiful."

"Mn."

They continue across the root and step onto the next island.

Nyxram frowns to herself. He's trying to make idle conversation; distract himself. You're not giving him much to work with. "...why here?"

"What?"

"Why this place?" She clarifies. "What made you choose it?"

"Oh." He shrugs, clearing his throat. "He’d mention it when... when we'd discuss fond memories. --during meals. Suppose it's... as good a place as any. He never brought up family."

"But he had memories of the archipelago?"

"--yes. Traveling. Said he came here to think."

Nyxram's brows rose. "Traveling, then. What did he travel for?"

"...I don't know."

"No?"

"--no." There’s frustration in his voice. Then, something more akin to sorrow. "...No, I. I don't know, he... I guess I never asked." A pause. She saw his head turn to her from the corner of her eye. "Have... you ever done something like this?"

When she sends him an inquisitive glance, he continues, "...mourned someone?"

Her jaw tightens. He’s seeking companionship. He didn’t want to journey here alone, and he doesn’t want to be alone in grief, either.

Nyxram turns ahead, allowing her stride to widen. "Watch your step on the next line up,” she says, “these 'roots' are older than some galaxies. Best not to test them."

Behind her, Traximus sighs. They keep forward.

Somewhere above, a meteor flashes by. A wash of white and silver light blooms over the brownstone, sharpening their shadows and striping the ground in liquid patterns cast from the river. There’s no wind here. No sound. It's something ethereal, like walking through a dream. Their only clues of passing time came from subtle changes in the light or the water’s slow, steady flow.

Traximus doesn’t try to initiate conversation again. Neither does she.

They reach the center island. Roots emerge from various cracks in the stone, curling and tangling across its surface until they join to form the tendrils of material that hold the archipelago together. The water stream curves above and down, arcing the length of the island in a translucent halo that dapples it with flecks of light. Most of the archipelago’s plant-life resides here. She wonders if it houses a larger organism at its center. If all the flora binding the archipelago--blanketing its surface--are merely smaller extensions of one.

Nyxram slows her steps, allowing Traximus to move ahead. She follows him to the base of a mass of roots and flowering stems, just beneath the river’s center. Some of the plants stretch up toward it, as though reaching for a chance that stray droplets might land on their petals and leaves. For a moment they stand, silent.

Traximus steps to the mound. He kneels at its foot, setting the spear to his side and sliding the satchel from his shoulder. There's a painstaking care to his movements as he opens it, as though he feared he may cause a large disturbance by just unpacking. It was… odd. Watching him like this.

In their time together, building and operating the rebellion, she'd seen his usual forms of physical expression. Collected, but never afraid to be loud, assertive, or slam a fist to emphasize a point. He held the attention of a room as easily as he breathed, the trust and respect of those who listened even more so. A commander he was, in near every sense of the word. But here he knelt, moved, with great effort to make himself as small and unremarkable as possible. It felt like something she shouldn't be seeing. Nyxram folds her hands at the small of her back, and she turns her eyes elsewhere.

She watches the slow shift of debris beyond the silver planet’s gravitational reach. On the first island, she can see Zuron has wandered out of their shuttle. His smaller form stands beside Grax, and they seem to be talking. She allows herself to wonder what about.

Maybe the make of the archipelago--the driving force keeping the flora alive and the river on its path; that would interest Zuron. Or plans once they’d returned to homeworld; Grax had made passing remarks--mulling over meals he might make for Xi the next time they'd have dinner together. A long overdue night to themselves. She must be eager to have him for more than the time they spent asleep. The rebellion may have succeeded, but the demands of a new beginning were unending, the work never done. Traximus had barely managed to carve out what time he wanted, needed, for this.

“We didn’t have much.” Traximus’s voice comes through her receiver (the silence, perhaps, has become overwhelming). His tone is cautious, measured, and almost… timid? She didn’t quite have the word to describe it. “After… the arena was cleared out, I tried to search our old cells. His cell. ...I don’t know why; I guess I thought… I thought he may have stored something. --left… something I could find and bring here. But there wasn’t much about that life you’d want to hold onto. Nothing… worth the risk of hiding away.”

“Nothing material,” Nyxram said.

Traximus exhales. “...no.” A small pause. “No. …--but. He preferred the spear. It will do.”

Nyxram frowns, and she turns her head to him.

Traximus stood, the spear now in hand, facing the mound. The hand clenching the spear held it well. A trained, even grip. He’d wrapped a vibrant red cloth around the head of the spear just below where metal and wood connected, secured with a thick golden-threaded rope. Hanging from the center tassel was a single ‘drop’ of amber. Even in the limited light, it shone brilliantly.

“Why the spear?” Nyxram asked.

“Distance,” Traximus answered, “resourcefulness, or a make-shift shield. Sometimes a walking aid if something went wrong. …he preferred to out-last than he did to fight.”

Her brow wrinkled. “How is it that he found himself there, then?”

Traximus remains still, not looking at her. There’s anger in his low tone, searing the words when he speaks, “...sometimes, you just need fodder.”

She remains still and quiet as his open hand curls shut. Watches as it shivers by his side, claws biting through the gloves of his suit, and as his shoulders rise with on held breath. He steadies himself and steps forward.

Traximus places the blunt end of the spear against a fracture in the rock. He takes care to wedge it into place without disturbing surrounding roots, the cloth--without jostling the amber drop. Despite his efforts, his movements are stiff. His hands grip the spear tighter than they need to, and he growls--irritated--when the spear's end slips from its place. But he pauses, seems to steady himself a second time, and tries again. It's a delicate line between too gentle and too rough, and he's struggling to find the balance. Again, the blunt end slips. And again he stills before giving it another try.

The spear takes to the rock this time. Once certain it would stand on its own, he steps back and releases one hand. She waits, patient, but he doesn't release the other.

"Do," he breathes, suddenly (and there’s brittleness in his voice; like the slightest misstep in word choice will break it), "do you... know what it's like? Looking up. And realizing the room is... is cheering because you... because someone you..."

"...Traximus--"

"--do you?"

Sharper. But the veil of anger is gone. There's only pain.

"...no." It's a half-truth. Her room had been two. Not a stadium of hundreds. "I don't."

There's a long pause. She hears him exhale, slow and ragged through the receiver. His fingers adjust around the spear's staff. "You... were there that day. Weren't you?"

She's quiet.

"Up there," he continues, "with him."

She remembers.

"...was it a good show?"

She doesn't answer. She doesn't know how.

Traximus swallows, a strained sound that their comms shouldn't pick up. "He should have won that day."

Something inside her hardens to steel. Whether he's speaking of Tilus or Zanramon, she can't tell. It worries her.

A silence stretches on. Then, only once his hand pries from the spear and drifts back to his side, does he speak again.

“Is it… daft of me to think we owe so much to him? To the turtles, even--to… --that I would never have…”

Nyxram frowns. “You feel their aid lessens what you’ve accomplished?”

“I let myself become a husk of everything I stood for," he said. "I didn't manage to find my way alone. Not like you.”

“You think I found my way alone?” She's surprised when her voice reveals how much his statement offends her. “Traximus. Just as you didn't emerge from your darkness until you met the turtles, I did not emerge from mine until I saw you throw your sword at Michelangelo's feet. --Should I be ashamed of this?”

Traximus pauses. He sighs, a heavy rush of air against the receiver. “I suppose not.”

He lifts the satchel back over his shoulder and adjusts the strap. Nyxram watches as he turns and starts back the way they came. There’s a new weight in his steps. A wilt in his posture that hadn’t been there before. An impulse strikes her--drives her to do--what? …something.

He's just passed her when she turns the word over on her tongue. It’s almost bitter.

“No.”

“Hm?” Traximus stops, turns his head.

Nyxram flexes her fingers. “The answer to your earlier question: …no. I’ve never mourned anyone.” Then, slowly. “...I was never made to think of it that way. …as ‘mourning’. So, I didn’t.”

He blinks, thrown off, and faces her in full. “How were you made to think?”

“A victory. I got to live.”

“...So did I.”

The words are unaccusatory and soft, not meant to be cruel. But they still sting. Nyxram looks away.

“Do you want to?” He asks.

She turns back, almost startled. Traximus opens one arm toward the mound. There’s a carefulness in his expression; a gentleness that bleeds through harsh lines brought by exhaustion and stress. It makes something deep within her ache.

“...it’s,” she hesitates, “…it’s been dozens of cycles, Traximus. Hundreds.”

“You’re suggesting this sort of thing has a time limit?”

“--no,” she says, perhaps quicker than she’d meant. She felt. …she felt disarmed, suddenly. It wasn’t a feeling she liked. “I mean to say I’ve had my chance.”

“...A time limit,” he repeats.

She growls, turning away again. Traximus huffed. For a moment, she thought the topic dropped. Then he asks again, “...do you want to?”

Nyxram tightens her jaw. She looks to him.

Her hand moves on its own, lifting to the knife strapped between her collar and shoulder. A flick of her thumb, and it comes loose from its sheath and slides like liquid into her palm. She pulls it free in a sweep of her arm (a gesture that would surely cause anyone who recognized her name to hold their breath; Traximus remains at ease). She steps forward to stand before the spear and mound.

The knife rotates in her palm. It catches the light, a glint that had been the last so many had seen. But it’s not the fine edges nor expertly crafted metals that hold her attention. It’s a detail no one would think or know to look for.

Her hands had been shaking that morning. The knife was something she’d grow into, and she hadn’t held it right--not like she’d been trained. Her misplaced fingers left room for blood to fall where it shouldn’t--where her future skin would catch it instead. A small section of handle had been exposed. There was one single, thin, strip of blood that she’d been careful to never wash away after all this time.

It wasn’t amber. Quite the opposite, actually.

Where amber could hold once-living things, a once-living thing had held this.

Again, Nyxram rotates the knife. It takes her a moment, but she finds a place between the roots and rock that will cause the least amount of damage. The knife slides into the coils until she feels them thicken, slowing the blade to a stop. Carefully, she lets it go and steps back.

Traximus moves to stand by her side.

“...what was their name?” When Traximus asks, his tone is just as soft as it had been before.

Nyxram shakes her head. “He never received one.” A pause. “Names are for things able to last, and he wasn't. --their. Words, not… not mine.”

She’s not sure why she felt the need to emphasize that.

Traximus hums. “It seems he has.”

Nyxram glances at him before she can think not to.

“Lasted, I mean,” he clarifies. He clears his throat. “You remember him. You… want to mourn him. That's lasting, isn't it?”

She looks back to the knife.

“...could you give him a name?” Again, the question is careful. He’s unsure if he’s treading where he shouldn’t. “You don’t have to.”

Nyxram can only breathe. It feels as though something in her chest is becoming undone. There’s an old emotion, one she’s never had a name for, clawing its way through her every fiber and bringing with it a sense of vulnerability that should be unforgivable. In standing here, in giving up the knife, in admitting she has someone to mourn at all, she is left bare and exposed. She's confused. Panicked?, even. What so many would give to capture her in even the smallest moment of weakness. But Traximus doesn’t strike.

“Thank you,” he says instead, “for coming out here today. Listening to me, even though... even... when I...”

He trails off, rounds to her other side and returns to the spear. “I’ll… --you know how our schedules are. When there's an opportunity to revisit, I will. You’re welcome to join, but there's no need. It's your decision.”

She watches as he reaches out, smoothing down the cloth’s folds, straightening the amber with a tender pinch of his fingers. He rests his palm on the spear’s head, and he goes still. She waits, half-expecting him to say something else, but he doesn't. He turns with a sigh and starts for the shuttle. Nyxram remains where she stands.

She waits until he’s reached the nearest coil of roots before turning her head to the spear. Her hand lifts as she takes a cautious step forward, and a finger taps the button on her helmet that disables her microphone. She refolds her hands at the small of her back.

She remembers that day. Zanramon summoned her back to the arena (remembers thinking it troublesome, annoying, a waste of her time--what twisted views of those soon to die). She remembers seeing the platform lift the two of them to the surface; Traximus, still large and imposing despite limited nutrition, and how much smaller Tilus had appeared by his side, his head only just reaching Traximus's collar. They'd all thought the only opponents that day would be a pack of starved leapers. She should have known by the creeping smirk on Zanramon's lips that they were wrong.

Was it a good show?

No. And made worse in that it was necessary for her. That only in seeing the knife fall--watching Traximus's face grow ghastly, hearing Zanramon laugh--did her eyes finally open and a cold awareness seep into her marrow. It hadn't just been wrong, it'd been monstrous. Abhorrent. She'd retreated to her quarters that night, shaken, disturbed, and ashamed. For cycles, Traximus had voiced his disagreements and concerns with Zanramon's direction, choices, priorities--only to be brushed aside and belittled, and finally enslaved. It shouldn't have taken that to realize that they'd long crossed a line. To realize, for certain, she wanted nothing to do with the old regime.

“...thank you, Tilus.” The softness in her voice surprises her. “You saw him first. Believed in him before the rest of us thought to listen. That was our mistake... one you should not have paid for.”

She extends a hand but stops just short of the spear’s metal. Her fingers close. She lowers her hand to her side and sighs. “...Rest now.”

“Nyxram?” Traximus’s voice comes through her receiver.

She taps the button for her microphone. “Yes, I’m coming.”

She walks to the roots, eyes focused ahead, and falls into step behind him.

He slows until she walks at his side.

#tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2k3 #tmnt oc #traximus #tmnt traximus #;hannah writes #;tmnt #;traximus #;tmnt oc: nyxram #[ became utterly possessed on thursday afternoon and wrote this in a cold sweat ]#[ i just have a lot of thoughts and feelings and needed to get them out of my system ]#[ even tho i have like a dozen other things i should be doing lmfao ]

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redstringraven · 2 months

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forever bitter that the only """""full reference"""" for the reservoir station we ever get seems to be the btts version and....

like there's something so nice about the turtles (and leatherhead) taking old, abandoned structures in the city and making it their homes.

the reservoir station and LH's (train?) station... kind of have the same vibe as overgrowth in post-apocalyptic settings does for me. reclaiming something abandoned, left behind and rotting, and making it beautiful and alive again, but in subtle and gentle ways. the bones and shape of the corpse are still there, there's just new life in it now.

all the shininess and high-tech of btts's version makes me kind of... sad...? it looks more like a superhero lair than it does anything else? --less co-existing with what it once was and more overtaking it entirely? i dunno how to articulate it.

#;radio static #[ hannah are you romanticizing liminal space again? probably ]#[ leatherhead's little set up in the station makes me so warm... his sitting area... the fridge by the stairs... ]#[ this post brought to you by me wondering if the reservoir station bathrooms look like public bathrooms #or if they're more like gas station bathrooms. ]#[ this is important to me for art and writing reasons; don't @ me ]#[ i dunno where i'm going with this; my arms hurt again and i'm thinking ]

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redstringraven · 2 months

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more work in progress stuff! i really need to practice and experiment with environments more. spent the day catching up with the malevolent podcast while i worked. i'm in hell.

#tmnt 2003 #work in progress #tmnt raphael #;hannah draws #;hannah doodles #;raphael #[ two more episodes and i'm fully caught up ]#[ excited to be emotionally destroyed. thrilled to be sacrificed to ancient and unknowable gods. ]

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redstringraven · 2 months

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hey, @bellathetmntgeckolady, thanks for the tag!! ( •̀ ω •́ )✧ i've not done one of these in a long time, so this'll be fun! i think things like this are nice little community builders; it's a shame not to see them as often.

"the rules of the game are to write one song for every letter in your url, and then tag as many people as there are letters in your url." reposting because those reblog chains get longggg.

also, i made a temporary spotify playlist if that's easier listening.

r - reverence ; hammock e - end of small sanctuary ; akira yamaoka d - dúlaman ; celtic woman s - spanish sahara ; foals t - tsunami ; fløre r - rainy day ; alec holowka i - inner universe ; origa n - no turning back ; olivier deriviere, eric maria couturier g - give a fuck ; tezatalks r - resting grounds ; christopher larkin a - apocalypse ; sleeperstar v - voidfish (plural) ; rachel rose mitchell e - empires ; ruelle n - neglected space ; imogen heap

if you're tagged, no pressure to take part! i'll be tagging a mix of pals and folks i've never tagged before but who seem in my orbit. ...if your @ didn't work, i hope you see this somehow. <xD;;; take care!

@plantdonut, @grozva, @joyfuladorable, @sftgnge, @gatorkid509, @mojimallow, @badatusernames, @vdragon-creations, @adenthemage, @roquog, @maddys-nerd-blog, @yellowhollyhock, @figuringitoutasigoalong, @cheesy-che, @sassatello

because i'm insufferable, i'll also put some small character/song relevant thoughts under the cut. as a treat to myself.

reverence: this song gives me the feeling of being out on casey's farmhouse porch on late summer afternoon or at sunset. everyone's just kind of basking in the warmth, downtime, and company of each other. some might be napping, those awake are making quiet, idle conversation. it's just nice.

end of small sanctuary: this one always makes me think of raph and gwyn, specifically, sitting on city high-point at sunset. much like how it's used in SH3 when heather is just being a teenager at the mall and is probably music she'd listen to, this very much gives me the energy and warmth of raph and gwyn sitting in the setting sun, high above the city, with maybe some food and light conversation. a breath between The Horrors™.

dúlaman: i've been trying to find and listen to more celtic/irish music for a lot of reasons (so if you know any pls gib), but one is to better cultivate the sound and energy of liáfsian folksongs and music.

spanish sahara: how could i make this list without one of the songs that never fails to fuck me up. spanish sahara has been the driving 'score' in my head when it's come to a number of story scenes or character moments due to the slow build and emotional release of the song as well as the lyrics. i dunno. this song just moves and inspires me in ways i can't quite articulate.

tsunami: this song just feels so strongly like aislinn to me. the lost-lover part, sure, but especially the feeling of drowning and just... the instrumentals/vocals feel like her, too. i associate her a lot with water.

rainy day: no specific scenario here, but this score makes me think of and want to draw don or leo. the game it's from kind of has a melancholic nostalgia to it, and the vibe sits well with them.

inner universe: this song is all vibes for me, and it always makes me think of entering the territory of one of the liáfsian dragons and crossing paths with it. specifically the dragon i associate with leo.

no turning back: this score is fully for gwyn being on the run. the title, the strings, the faint ticking clock and building drums toward the end, the urgency throughout. it is, for better or worse, a reflection of what so much of her life has felt like.

give a fuck: sounds and feels like a nyxram song. hard to explain, this one just always makes me think of her.

resting grounds: this score's on my playlist for the liáfsian ruins, which is an area in the realm considered to be cursed ground (but no one knows or remembers why). the ruins are beautiful, peaceful. but you never quite have the sense that you're truly alone.

apocalypse: this song always makes me think of PtINL, i can't really explain why. it's on my personal playlist for the fic, and every time it comes on shuffle it just sends me back into thoughts of mikey, aloy, their travels and their bond.

voidfish (plural): first of all: LOVE the voidfish. second, this is another one of those scores that gives me the energy of encountering ancient liáfsian fae.

empires: this song always makes me think of a 'trailer' for gwyn and ash's arc. i think it's accurate not only for how the final conflict between gwyn, ash and darach will go down, but there's a hint at a much older threat in there and "the tides are turned" being that companionship has been found in the turtles.

neglected space: this song, without fail, always makes me think of and want to draw nyxram. there's something sad, lost and desperate to it.

#;radio static #;rosewater park #[ that's gonna be my new dashboard meme & community fun tag i think ]#[ but yeah thank you for the tag!!! :D a fun surprise! ]

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redstringraven · 2 months

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this is a small detail, very unimportant, but it is very funny to me.

in big brawl pt 3, the tournament takes an intermission and gyoji states it will resume "in one mega-quagan". raph immediately mutters to himself "how long is a mega-quagan?" before mikey distracts him and they wander off to look for the others. but i just. <xDDD

do you KNOW. how stressed? my anxious and punctual ass would be when given a time to return i don't even know how to measure? like, obviously the chill and casual solution to this is that they'd notice when the market crowds started meandering back to the arena (if gyoji hadn't gone and collected them himself; not that they knew he'd do that). but, my brothers in christ, i can barely mange being told i have a 15-minute intermission without being stressed out that's not enough time to skitter to find the bathroom and get back to my seat.

and it's kind of adorable to think that if leo had been there, this is like... probably his first time to experience something like this outside of breaks during training sessions. it's a bigger scale than the four of them having five minutes or however long to catch their breath and get water. he can't even check the shell-cell obsessively because he doesn't know how long a mega-quagan is in comparison to a minute. none of us do. raph gets irritated enough with the constant fidgeting and foot-tapping and stomps up to a trader "he-asked-for-no-pickles" style to get an answer, but the trader doesn't know what a 'minute' is. we're in hell.

#;radio static #[ and then gyoji just swoops in and teleports them back to the arena anyway ]#[ lying facedown on the floor due to poisoning? nah. lying facedown on the floor due to feeling silly ]#[ idk why i started thinking about this it just makes me giggle to myself because... same ]

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redstringraven · 2 months

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*stances at you*

i have five ''''primaries'''' and several ''''secondaries''''. but to avoid overwhelm, i'll just briefly list the primaries off with their blog tags.

all of my ocs meet the turtles after s4, and i'm working on making them reference sheets with full profiles because... i usually just draw them doing things. i am a bad and irresponsible oc haver. oTL

text/info under the readmore so as not to clog.

left to right: cassia dubois, nyxram, gwyneth and aislinn.

cassia is a 3rd-earth human and she's about as civilian in the world of tmnt as you can get. she can scrap, but she can't fight (nor does she want to). her mom's a hairdresser and her dad's a train conductor; the triceraton invasion was harrowing for them as her dad was halfway across the country at the time and maintaining contact was hard. she loves rollerskating through the city, street art--be it graffiti, murals or turning a trashcan into the cookie monster--and the 1970s aesthetic. since she's pretty uninvolved in the turtles' adventures and dangers, she can often be a source of grounding for them; her apartment's become another safe-haven away from the lair (her mom knows about them), and if you befriend her you will get a nickname. there's no escape. that's a threat and a promise.

nyxram is a triceraton; she was born to two assassins, raised and trained in isolation to surpass her parents in their 'trade', essentially birthed and forged to kill. unfortunately for them, 'nature' seems to have beaten 'nurture' in this case. nyx never took pride nor satisfaction in her work, but since it was all she knew, she felt it was all she had. after witnessing traximus defy zanramon in the arena and escape, she sought him out and joined the rebellion, becoming a key resource and informant due to her proximity to zanramon and the council. post-rebellion, she struggles with her sense of purpose and direction. her mother has been apprehended and detained--considered a high-security prisoner--but her father is believed to have died during his attempted capture. nyx isn't so sure.

gwyn and ash are twins from the realm of liáfsini, a world that exists between worlds much like the battle nexus does. ash's physical body was killed by the weapon she currently inhabits, her soul having been transferred into the gem as she died. the weapon is made of the liáfsian soul-gem and a black mineral that shifts to the will of the soul it's bound to, allowing ash to take the form of any weapon she's seen (sometimes with a bit of her own flair). she can be playful and has an odd sense of humor, but is more often riddled with anxiety and hesitant to make her presence known to anyone aside from gwyn.

gwyn is galaxy and dimension hopping, searching for a way to get ash her body back while fleeing the man responsible for her family's death in the first place. where ash has somewhat come to terms with her 'death' and wishes gwyn would live her life for herself, gwyn refuses to let go of the possibility she could get her sister back. gwyn has not been 'traditionally trained' in combat, but rather has learned through observation, trial-and-error, and necessity. her resourcefulness paired with ash's shapeshifting give her an edge of unpredictability in a fight. survival has required her to become a bit of a social chameleon; she's lost touch with her own identity in many ways, but her unrelenting will and gritted-teeth optimism keep her on her feet and moving.

my final 'primary' is darach (no public art yet because i want to get him right), the main antagonist of gwyn and ash's story-arc as he's pursuing gwyn across the universe with the intention of retrieving the weapon prototype for study and replication. he's an ancient liáfsian druid, and if ch'rell was all force, power, and intimidation, then darach is the pot you put the frog in. the water seems safe and warm. you don't realize you're boiling alive until it's too late.

there're rumors that he and ch'rell collaborated before the latter got stranded on earth. and in my self-indulgent headcanons, i like to think some of ch'rell's inspiration for the sword of tengu came from a glimpse darach's spellcasting. he would have stripped lightning from a storm and wielded it like a blade. should darach ever learn about the sword, he'd be flattered. it was a crude, but effective, copy. and what a compliment! that the great ch'rell must have first felt his own skin crawl before wanting the power for himself.

appreciate you posting this and potentially reading my response! i can be shy and reclusive, but i'm trying to get better about talking about my creations instead of hoarding my thoughts like a skittish dragon fjdshjkghsd.

been lovely reading everyone else's replies, too! ✌🖤 13/10, great kids, bront!

Not sure if anyone is gonna see this since it's 1:40 AM here, but if you have TMNT OCs

* makes grabby hands *

Show them to meeeeeee. I wanna meet everyone's literal children.

#;radio static #;tmnt oc: cassia dubois #;tmnt oc: nyxram #;tmnt oc: gwyneth #;tmnt oc: aislinn #[ i'll add darach's tag once i have his reference sheet done ]#[ maybe ]#[ but yeah; thank you!!! i hope all this made sense because my arms really hurt today #and it's making it hard for me to focus/think straight jfkdjfkl ]

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redstringraven · 2 months

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i'd mentioned wanting to remove the whole "whited out eye" aspect on the turtles when their masks are on AND with the triceratons in general, so here's some experimenting with the latter!

i did a bit of poking around and found the designers for the OG jurassic park movie modeled rexie's eyes off eagle eyes (same for the sick triceratops). funnily enough: eagle and owl eyes have a very similar color range to triceraton skin (pale yellows, rich oranges and browns, and sharp reds).

for traximus and zanramon i did some loose screen-shot redraws, so i was less distracted with posing and more focused on eyes/coloring. similar with nyxram, but her redraws are from the endure comic. also removed her tattoo since i haven't redesigned it just yet. might change her iris color a smidge, too, but we'll see.

i'm quite happy with this first go! there's a bit of learning to do with the iris/pupil ratio and overall eye-shape, but i'm having fun.

#tmnt 2003 #tmnt oc #tmnt traximus #tmnt zanramon #triceratons #;hannah draws #;hannah doodles #;tmnt #;traximus #;zanramon #;tmnt oc: nyxram #[ traximus's are my fav but i'm also severely biased JKLFDJKS altho i do like the second zanramon one too ]#[ groz said he looked like a startled lizard and i just jklf hk sdksg ]

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redstringraven · 2 months

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sunflowers 🌻 adoration I hope you know that I see you as the moon to my sun and stars. I know it sounds kind of cheesy, but it's very true. …cheesy. But … I think I like it. It is the sun that lights up the moon, after all.

some more breenie for my health. bree belongs to @plantdonutwrites, and the lil dialogue snippet is from our on-going rps. c: it's unrelated to the drawing, but the sunflower/adoration theme reminded me of it!

#tmnt 2003 #tmnt oc #tmnt donatello #kiss art february #kiss art february 2024 #;hannah draws #;tmnt #;donatello #;tmnt oc: breanne o'neil #;breenie #[ listening to the wingspan soundtrack while finishing this up was extremely healing ]#[ this is the energy i needed in the studio today ]#[ terrible awful nerd-flirting ]

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redstringraven · 2 months

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a light himbo-squad 'lore dump' of sorts as promised. once again for context, this is post-triceraton rebellion; a small squad of rebellion soldiers who traximus had nyxram hand-pick shortly after the rebellion succeeded. plus short tidbits on those two. because i can.

traximus

serving as a commanding officer again, as well as one of the head members of the new council

not 'officially' part of the squad, but since he works closely with nyxram he's often in proximity to them

what started as a hesitant and uncertain partnership with nyxram during the rebellion has grown into a close friendship*; they find they can understand each other in ways their peers cannot

often uses council work and other new-republic work to distract himself from unprocessed, gladiator-related trauma; currently pushing to have the arena destroyed

nyxram

has self-assigned herself as traximus's on/off bodyguard, given he was the head of the rebellion and the current political climate is tense and vulnerable; additionally training him on the down-low, so he's better able to defend himself should he need to and she's not present

also serving as a temporary head of the new council; she hates every second of it

does not officially have a commanding title in the triceraton army, but is no longer serving the prime leader/throne as an assassin; her squad still refers to her as 'commander', however

after learning what happened to don during the invasion of earth, she and traximus personally saw that mozar was removed as a commanding officer and was apprehended to face the new council for his participation in the matter

grax

civilian pre-rebellion; was one of the first triceratons recruited by traximus after he returned from the battle nexus

now an ensign officer; leads the squad in nyxram's absence

was the slowest of the four to warm up to nyxram and often tried to 'drive her off', but as soon as he came around he is undoubtedly the most loyal to her

sharp-shooter archetype; a fire-arms expert who enjoys improving his arsenal as much as he enjoys improving his aim

in a very healthy/committed relationship with his spouse: xi; she's deaf, and they can both fluently speak a triceraton version of sign language

the team's hot-head, albeit you can tell a chunk of it is also just his sense of humor

i said there was one (1) functioning adult among them, and it's grax

ceron

a civilian who joined the rebellion; involved in the 'mining' or 'molding' of various pieces of homeworld, as well as maintaining the structural upkeep of the floating chunks of planet

barbarian-class archetype; relies more on melee and brute-strength in battle than guns or other tools and is the biggest on the squad in terms of mass; powerful, thick lad

tends to be monosyllabic like nyxram, but comes off friendlier; his stature is intimidating but you'll quickly learn he's a big softie

he and grax often have a stupid shooter/brawler competitiveness going on where they consistently 'disapprove of' each other's methods

in similar fashion to raph, he's usually the most vigilant on the battlefield as far as watching everyone's backs and making sure those less suited for a fight (zuron and ranzar) are safe

two of his three horns and a half of a hand have been damaged or lost in various mining/molding accidents, but he wears prosthetics; zuron has enhanced them slightly

ranzar

squad pilot; a civilian who joined the rebellion, previously a 'driver' for small-time crooks messing with the triceraton elites

missing a large chunk of his frill and has some facial/upper-body scarring due to a crash he was in during his teenage years; the accident never discouraged him from driving/piloting, and he can be a bit of an adrenaline junkie

easy-going and highly charismatic personality; enjoys picking non-fights with grax and arguing with him for the sake of arguing; tries to do this with ceron, but ceron just stares at him

despite that he was the fastest to warm up to nyxram, it's clear that he's sometimes still pretty scared of her due to her past, reputation, and skill-set

has developed a big-brother/little-brother relationship with zuron since they spend a lot of time together both on the ship and working around it; zuron laments that he should be used to ranzar's driving by now but he's just not

zuron

squad engineer and part-time medic; was likely serving his first 'year' as an engineer when he got word of the rebellion and joined; worked undercover best he could in the docking bays and helped ia set the explosives during the turtles' escape in-series

youngest member of the squad with minimal experience handling weapons or being in a fight; spends most of his time either on the main ship or in whatever shuttle ranzar is piloting; will stick to ceron like glue when he feels like he's in danger

highly friendly, very curious and eager to learn about pretty much anything you put in front of him; similar to don in this capacity but is much more extroverted and out-going than he is

is probably the least aware of nyxram's past line of work, since most of his rebellion time was spent undercover in the docking bay, but is also the least afraid to ask her about it should the need or desire arise

has a big-brother/little-brother relationship with ranzar but, unknown to ranzar, zuron did have an older sibling at one point who he lost to an illness; zuron enjoys being taught engineering tricks he didn't know (ranzar has "unofficial" workarounds to several problems) and finds a sense of familiarity in ranzar's easy-going vibe in comparison to the rest of the squad's more professional or serious energies

---*---

*traximus and nyxram are not a romantic nor intimate ship; i write trax as gay, and nyx's relationship with... relationships is complicated

#tmnt oc #tmnt 2003 oc #tmnt 2003 #;traximus #;tmnt oc: nyxram #;tmnt oc: grax #;tmnt oc: ceron #;tmnt oc: ranzar #;tmnt oc: zuron #[ i love my himbo squad... trying their best after all the bullshit ]#[ found family: here it is ]

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