#don't mind me just using this character as inspo for my own

[freyito]

ɢᴏᴛᴛᴀ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴʏᴛɪᴍᴇ

✭ pairing(s): calcharo x gn reader

✩ inspo: I'd Have You Anytime by George Harrison

★ summary: You decide your boyfriend is being too moody.

✧ a/n: I WANNA SAY THANK YOU ALL FOR SUCH THE KIND WORDS AUGHHH I'VE BEEN KICKING MY FEET AND GIGGLING IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY TwT... i've got some little event cookin up for 700 followers, don't you worry...

BUT ANYWAYS i've been chipping away at wuthering waves... it's pretty fun !! kuro games also just make banger. games. so... the character designs are sooo yummmyyyy and of course i had to write a little fic for my (second) favorite... sephir-- i mean calcharo.

🗒 cw: gn reader, short n sweet, just fluff, not proofread

✎ wc: 781

Calcharo’s not necessarily the most affectionate boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. You are the stars that pepper the sky, the calm and wholeness of a stream running within a foggy forest, the night that beckons him into comforting arms. You are his everything. And he is, unfortunately, not the best at expressing that. But he is loyal.

He tends to hide within himself, too spun up in his own thoughts to pay more attention to the world. Not that he isn’t hyper-aware of his surroundings, he has to stay alert, after all. But he tends to stress himself out quite a bit like this, worried about the Ghost Hounds, those he had sworn to protect, and so forth. It seems the only time those worries fade away is when he’s in your arms. You’ve started to notice a slight slump in his shoulders, how his face relaxes into more of a neutral expression rather than a frown, and even how his voice sounds a tad… lighter.

Today, he is rather moody, choosing to brood and pace around the house, worrying about menial things. The pacing is a little annoying, but every time he lets out a sigh or a frustrated grumble, you can’t help but feel your heart twist. There isn’t much you can do, you know that, and the man will always have his worries. It is human nature to worry, and perhaps Calcharo is more human than he likes to think.

He opens his mouth to protest again, perhaps question you as to why you’re so determined, but you shut him up real quick, cupping his cheek and pressing a quite tender kiss to his lips. That shuts his mind up quick, you can tell by the way his stern demeanor melts away, returning the kiss after a couple seconds.

When you break apart, his eyes have softened, and his body relaxes once more. He lets out a soft sigh as if this is what he had been waiting for all along. You aren’t quite satisfied with your work, though. It’s been too long since you’ve had time with Calcharo in general, so why not revel in it?

You press a kiss to his nose bridge first, lips lingering for a second longer before pressing another to his cheek, then his forehead, then wherever you can kiss him. He doesn’t move or complain or push you away, simply closes his eyes and lets a soft blush dust his cheeks and the tips of his ears. It’s such a rare sight to see this man blush, and the fact that he isn’t doing whatever he can to hide it from you is impressive.

You continue your torrent of kisses, leaving no span of skin unkissed, untouched. He lets out a low rumbling sound and a scoff, which is close enough to a laugh you can get it, and you don’t mind. Not one bit. He has no idea what to do with his hands for the next minute or so, placing them on your hips at first but then ghosts over your ribs. For once he feels… awkward. He’s barely used to you making advances, not that he necessarily leaves room for them. Given his reserved nature, he had done most of the leading in the relationship. You thought it would’ve been best to go at his pace, after all. But he had never felt awkward during these years with you.

You finally stop kissing him, pulling away to look down at him. He’s still blushing, hair just a little more disheveled than usual, and the possibility of a smile tugging at his lips. A rare sight indeed, you oughta pat yourself on the back for doing that to him.

“Too much?” You ask, your voice cracking with mirth as your hands settle on his shoulders.

“... Not enough.” Calcharo responds bluntly, despite the slight wavering tone in his voice.

The man finally understands what to do with his hands, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you down on top of him. You are practically nose-to-nose with him, and can’t help but giggle, which he responds in kind with a soft huff.

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[kozachenko]

I swear to god, Zanmu has just been on my mind recently, she's taking over my fucking brain please send help

Artist's Note:

Why is it that everytime I do a drawing of Zanmu I always make the canvas size fucking huge and it ends up being a living nightmare to fucking export. I swear to god I had to go from 1200 DPI to 600 to 350.

Exporting hell aside, I loved working on this piece. With Zanmu's design, I wanted to combine all the design details that I love and have seen in other people's drawings of Zanmu and give them my own personal touches. First of all, her sleeves were inspired by @amemenojaku's design for Zanmu, and I absolutley love that detail because not only does it make her feel more regal, it also can be a callback to Satori and old hell, and also gives me the idea that Satori's fashion sense was inspired by Zanmu because IRL a lot of historical fashion was inspired by what the nobles were wearing at the time, and since Satori was around since when Old Hell used to be Hell, she probably took some wardrobe inspo from her (or it could be my headcanon that Satori could've been Zanmu's royal advisor or she was in her court or something but that theory is kinda grasping at strings from other headcanons I have, but that's for a different post). Also, the eye makeup she has was inspired by @jothelion's drawings of Zanmu, and like, I fucking love that detail because it just adds so much like omg I just love it sm.

And now for the design details I put in. I gave Zanmu tassel earrings because I think they'd look great on her. I also really like to exaggerate her hair and really try to make it look wild, as well as having little grey hairs here and there. I also try to add some wrinkles to the corners of her eyes, but TBH I don't know how visible that detail is, since the image is pretty fucking big. I also really exaggerated the tassles/strings on her outfit, since I really wanted to play around with the potential flow they could have. Also, big fan of giving Zanmu longer sleeves and pants. IDK why but I just like how it flows better. Also big fan of making her taller, idk why a lot of fanart makes her short. Also, I placed her horns closer to the front of her head as I just think placing horns in that position looks cool.

Also, if you're wondering about the halo, I took some inspiration from a few of Caravaggio's paintings where he often depicts saints with this very thin halo around the top of their heads. I just liked that detail a lot so I thought I'd include it.

Fun fact, I was originally gonna make the four skeletons Chiyari, Biten, Enoko, and Hisami but I didn't like the prospect of having to draw four more characters, so I chose to replace them with skeletons (if you wanna get silly with it, Zanmu got Hisami to kidnap Aya, set up some skeletons with bones from her bone collection and told her to take a picture of her).

I kinda gave up on Zanmu's feet and the one skeleton's hands (as if drawing hands normally is hard enough but NOPE, HAD TO MAKE IT LIVING HELL FOR MYSELF BY MAKING IT A SKELETON) and the quality of the image may suffer because of how much I had to fucking compress it (Zanmu's presence alone was enough to make the computer lose all of it's desire and motivation to export the drawing of her lmao), but I have been hacking at this piece for a while now, plus I need to learn when to call it quits when it comes to drawings). Also as I was fixing up the hands there was one spot where I forgot to clean up with the sketch and I can't fucking unsee that now and it's going to fucking bother me until I fix it but fixing it requires going back and putting my computer through hell so yeah.

So yeah, that's about all I have to say with this drawing, it was fun but also a nightmare lol

[nthee]

I DON'T KNOW IF I'MA SEE YOU AGAIN . . .

summary: a slight, or well, not-so-slight blunder led to the unfortunate events of him losing his memory — his memory of you and anything related to you.

characters: riddle roseherts, silver, lilia vanrouge

contains: angst with a bit of fluff, gender-neutral mc (uses second person view aka "you"), the reader blushes (described to be flushed)

notes: title is from see you again hehe :) i just thought it kind of had amnesia trope vibes idkkk dont ask me why atp, inspo comes from anywhere fr. also SURPRISE IM BACK let's ignore the fact that it's been 5 months tho i was so burnt out :(

⌗ RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

“Let me help you with that. [...] What? You're staring.”

“Ah, it's... it's nothing, sorry.”

The close proximity is enough to make you go insane. Perhaps it's better if you just took the time to actually fix your tie this morning. That way, he wouldn't be so close! So close that...

Oh Seven, what if he hears my heartbeat?! Ack, calm down, calm down! I don't want to scare him of, what if he thinks it's — I'm creepy?!

“You seem flushed, [Name]. Are you alright?” his movement stills while holding onto your tie, and you mentally facepalm.

Riddle's hand makes its way to your forehead, the back of his hand pressing onto your skin, before realizing he's wearing gloves. He clears his throat at the mistake, opting to feel your temperature using the back of his wrist — the exposed skin between his sleeve and glove.

“Temperature is normal... a little bit warm, but nothing serious.”

“I'm alright! It's nothing, really.”

Too close, too close, too close!

Riddle retracts back, almost as if he could hear your pleas. He sighed, clearing his throat as his eyes wander around — look everywhere, anywhere but them, Riddle.

“I should — ah, we should get to class...” you reminded. You mirror his actions, averting your gaze.

“Right. Class.”

He offers an arm, one that you graciously take without a second thought. “Let me escort you there. I did hold you off for several minutes.”

Excuses! Riddle's mind yells. You're falling for them!

He doesn't care in the slightest — just as long as you're there to catch him. Though he knew you for a grand total of five days, he knows you'll be there.

⌗ SILVER

“Have I... met you before? I have, haven't I?”

A bittersweet laugh escapes your lips, startling Silver in front of you. You pull yourself together, smiling as you gaze into his eyes — the same eyes you'd lose yourself in, letting the time pass doing just that.

“Once upon a dream, right? That's what you were going to say?” you wipe a tear from the corner of your eye, thankful you laughed first before the waterworks arrived. Thank goodness, he can't see me sad.

Silver's eyes brightened, his eyelashes fluttering in disbelief. “It's... it's you. I meet you in my dreams! Everytime I close my eyes, I... I see you.”

His hands are softly holding yours as he speaks, his thumb tracing your skin delicately — like you were glass, or a treasure. It's enough to make you swoon, just as he's always done before.

“Don't leave my side.”

He thinks it's selfish to ask that from a stranger. But you are no stranger. You know the truth, but he suspects it's destiny — that you've actually met, talked, danced before, only well, it was in his very own dreamland.

You can feel the tears again. Maybe this isn't so bad? Or, at the very least, this isn't the end.

“I wouldn't even think of it.”

⌗ LILIA VANROUGE

“Are you a friend of Silver's? I don't think I've seen you around before.”

Those words were uttered before you could even process the initial news of Lilia's predicament — before your heart could even let it sink in.

You could only choke back the words threatening to slip off your tongue, lest it sound like utter crap to someone who just lost his memories.

You and I are more than friends. You play— well, played lighthearted tricks on me. I fell for them. I fell for you.

“You... could say that,” was all you could muster up. There was no point in explaining more, he wouldn't understand them.

There was understanding to his nod, a subconscious feeling of something nestled deep in his heart.

“Are you troubled? You seem to be.” his tone is soft, yet firm. Lilia had always been that way; a mentor, father (or, father-like to ones who don't know he was actually one), shoulder to cry on, wise fae to depend on...

A lover. Was a lover.

Now, all was left was Lilia before he even got to know you.

Lilia Vanrouge, a schoolmate of yours, once again.

← | © nthee, do not repost, plagiarize, translate, adapt, and use my work in anything that associates directly with ai.

[directdogman]

Dogman, how do you write SO WELL!?!? I love all your characters and I need to know what/where you find inspo from...

Ha. Every writer is just someone who apes the creative processes of their inspirations. For video game writing specifically, there's two answers for me.

Toby Fox is always gonna be a huge inspiration for me. I've written plots and characters before and had to abandon ideas after realizing I'd accidentally written part of UT again. Even some of the ideas I used were undeniably inspired by UT in a subconscious way and ofc, I included several explicit references to UT in my last series. Toby's a very clever guy who likely pays very close attention to the art he consumes and tries to figure out how to maximize how much his work connects with his audience. Whatever his process is, it works.

The other answer is a lil funnier: Scott Cawthon, but specifically the legend, not the man. For context: Back in the earlier days of the FNaF fandom, people had a hyper-inflated view of Scott Cawthon's writing skills that largely came from how little of a presence he had back in those days. In the vacuum of Scott actually explaining his own process in detail, people got caught up in his genuinely creative way of hiding exposition in his games using cryptid and (then) unexpected methods, and a narrative formed (one that he's since refuted.)

While he never implied it tmk, fans broadly believed that he constructed these sweeping and complex narratives with tons of cohesive moving parts, with the games essentially acting like the mere tip of his lore iceberg. People even thought he wrote so much that he had whole games worth of lore outlined from the beginning! In the first Dawko interview he gave, he clarified that this wasn't the case and explained roughly what his process was (basically just outlining rough theme ideas + aesthetics for future titles.)

However, that legend made younger-me's mind run wild and any time I wrote a story, it became very difficult for me to not keep writing down ideas while completing the grunt work that followed me finishing my scripts. When I finished DSaF 1, I already had DSaF 2's draft written and by the time 2 was done, I had enough lore for a 3rd game on paper (and a lot more stuff that I didn't use.) By the time three was out, I had pages upon pages of unused concepts/story ideas and more or less just had to decide to call it quits or else I'd be pumping out entries forever!

That's why if you go back to those older games, there's references that directly refer to future plot-points in pretty casual/easy to miss ways. (Like Henry's mention in DSaF 1, Dave being heartless in DSaF 2, Jack being soulless in 1, and even Blackjack being Jack's soul in 2. Most of 3's major plotpoints are implied somewhere in 2 and some of 2's in 1.)

DT is much the same. By the time I finished writing it, I had fairly detailed drafts for arcs for each of the characters, some early material ended up getting completely recontextualized (and even modified in small ways to not conflict with the wider ideas I came up with.)

I get really into writing my stories/characters and I always wonder exactly how things ended up where they are, what characters think about but don't say, etc etc. This is why I have an obscene amount of Crown lore that I have very little to do with rn (since he impacted the whole world so deeply.)

This extra stuff also includes plenty of sequel material ideas, though I didn't think I'd even get a chance to use them since DT performed pretty meagerly before the big release and I was expecting to have to move onto something new. Though it turned out that Scott didn't actually write his games this way (by his own admission), it's the correct answer for what my core writing inspiration for writing game narratives is.

Hope this helps!

[blooming-violets]

just finished five minutes. what other angsty goodness do you have to offer?!

Something Unforgivable

Peter cheats on his depressed, grieving girlfriend and feels like shit about it (as he should!!) and then part three randomly turns into a sex trafficking ring and murder fest story to spice things up.

Dancing On My Own (and the sequel)

People literally despise the fuck out of Peter in this fic. I seemed to have managed to make a typically beloved babyboy the most hated character. Then I tried to redeem him a bit but only made it worse and made people hate him more...but it's angsty af. And I personally think the ending fits their characters perfectly and makes total sense based on how I wrote them/their trauma/backstory buuuut it doesn't make people happy! ANGST

Nicest Thing

Honestly, this fic was written way before Dancing On My Own but they sort of have very similar vibes and I used a lot of inspo from this one to write DOMO. Like they could be the same Reader character person just in a slightly alternate universe. Peter's bff who's in love with him but he loves Gwen and then she dies and he's depressed and his friend tries to help him but it's hard to help grieving angry people.

Pinky Promise

there's children trying to jump off buildings and terrible fathers and attacks on nyc and two sad people just trying to find love in the midst of it all

Imminent

you see the future and that future shows Peter Parker's death. This is one of my favorite things I've done and I don't even think it's written that well but I think it's a unique concept and therefore it's my fav

Creature Like Me

This is my pride and joy. It's my baby. This is the most "I'm writing for me and only me" story I've ever done. It's just me pumping out chapters and like three people reading and cheering me on. And I have genuinely loved every single second. I. Fucking. Love. This. Story. So. Damn. Much.

Don't

This is short. Peter's an asshole during a fight. I like it because Reader stands up for herself and draws some boundaries. Don't let men treat you like shit. That's the message.

Are You Real?

Someone asked to me write fluff but I didn't see that so I defaulted to angst instead. A touch starved reader in a long distance relationship with Peter.

Touch Starved

Another touched starved but it's Peter who's in need of love.

From my Hurt/Comfort Bingo (that I should get back to completing some day): Caring for Reader's Wounds After Fight (home break in), Look At Me (stuck in an armed robbery), Car Accident (title speaks for itself, ended up as a 3 part mini series), Bring Your Kids to Work Day (reader is stuck in a fire with two kids and no way out)

Smut with Angst elements:

Cheating With Peter

Your marriage sucks, you're in love with Peter, all he seems to want is sex from you though and nothing more so you give it to him bc at least it means you'll be his in some sad pathetic way

In The Dark

Depressed reader needs Peter's help to find her way out of the darkness of her mind (through anal sex, apparently)

Ok that should be more than enough to keep you satisfied.

[rontra]

My hand never seems to actually translate the ideas that are spinning up in my brain. how do you get it all out? any advice? just draw more? do i need to use more references? your art is just so beatiful you are one of my top inspos.

ah first of all thank you very much! i'm honored! 😳

(long post incoming lol)

to answer the question though, i don't think i sufficiently translate what's in my mind and i frequently let myself down! but it's important not to let that Stop you. i think overall it's sort of multifaceted and different for everyone--theres no single answer i can give you that will guaranteed work for you--but for me personally i think it mainly comes down to Derangement, DISCRETION!!, Discipline, & Diet

before i say anything more though it's important also to remember that making visual art (in our case drawings/comics) is training like 2 or 3 separate skills (depending on how you divide them). the HAND represents your current drawing ability & technique; what your drawing hand is physically able to produce when you set pen to paper. the BRAIN is the creative engine that cooks up your ideas and thinks of ways to assemble them. and the EYE represents your ability to recognize what art looks like and how it "should" look. when your brain is thinking of ideas and your hand can't capture them, that is not because you're "bad" at it: it means your eye skill is currently outpacing your hand skill. your ability to discern art, to see things like proportions and anatomy and composition and whatever else is going on, is currently stronger than your ability to draw them yourself. this is not a flaw. this is not a flaw. this is not a flaw!!!! but it does mean your hands' ability to capture what your brain has imagined will let your eyes down until your hands catch up. once they do--by studying, practicing your technique, using references, and gaining confidence--your eye skill will then begin to outpace it again. this cycle, the dance between the two skills, is why you might sometimes feel yourself suddenly "getting good" at art, then just as suddenly plateauing or "getting worse"; you are training different parts of what makes art happen. there is nothing wrong with this. you are improving even when it doesnt feel like it--even when it feels like THE LITERAL OPPOSITE is happening. because you're improving different skills!

(and of course as your eye skill develops you will look back at previous stages of development and go "HOW COULD I NOT SEE HOW BAD THIS LOOKS!"--and yeah. that's the thing; you probably, rather literally, couldn't see it! you only think it looks bad now because you've improved your "eye" skill. you should try to be proud of that feeling, even though it also likely sucks and is embarrassing to you at the same time. there's posts, even recent ones, that i go "i cant believe i thought that looked OK enough to post PUBLICLY" and it is embarrassing for me! but all it means is that i'm better at what i do now...so it doesn't get me down too badly. you gotta shrug that stuff off.)

with that out of the way, my four evil councilmen are as follows:

DERANGEMENT: find something you are not normal about. this can be anything (whether it's a topic that interests you, The Character, a medium, a damn color palette...anything!), as long as it captures your mind and motivates you to create. your brain should be spinning up ideas like crazy and your only choice is to draw them. because once you have Derangement the only thing that feels worse than Making Something Subpar is sitting around Not Making Anything At All. you should be interested in what you draw. you should ideally love it, even if you don't love your own art yet. once you know what motivates you, let that simmer until you have no choice but to draw even if you're scared it'll turn out bad. and hey--there will probably (unless you become some kind of Art God) always be parts you think should've turned out better in some way, however:

DISCRETION!!: realistically nobody NEEDS to know what parts of a piece you're unhappy with. it's valuable to have friends/art partners/mentors/whatever that you can comfortably check in with and go "i dont like [part], what do you think" and get feedback, but that's for YOU. for the audience at large, maybe people will notice, maybe they won't, but as an artist you are constantly growing and you will very likely be constantly looking back at past pieces (even just days or hours old sometimes) and going "what the hell was i thinking? how did i not see [error/s], or why didn't i go for [different idea/finish/color palette/etc]?". getting hung up on this will probably either light a fire under you or demotivate you completely depending on your particular brain soup. for me it can go either way depending on where i'm at in my current hand/eye development phase. but i try not to fixate on it. it's enough to observe it and take notes for next time. every drawing is part of your growth and you have to make wonky art in order to occasionally make something that satisfies your eyes. in the meantime, don't beat yourself up or put yourself down. you are gaining experience and technical know-how, and spotting things you'd like to work on for next time; especially if you're sharing this work and other people are telling you they like what you made, there's no need to undercut this by dwelling on the rough parts so much that you can't enjoy it. the important thing is that you made it.

DISCIPLINE: you made it, it's done, now make something new. do it again from the top! you're right: Drawing A Lot is absolutely the key to Drawing Better. it is also usually an evil curse that reveals How Bad You Drew 3 Months Ago. but you have no choice, if you want to hone your skills and improve the Brain Image -> Art Image translation. you have to do it even when it sucks. do it bored, do it scared, but you have to do it or you'll never get anywhere. when improving yourself, you have to draw a lot to see change, and this is the part that sucks, right? feeling like you're not really getting anywhere or like you'll never capture what's in your mind. you can do studies where you collect references and focus in on ironing out something that's bothering you (such as, like, specific objects, perspectives, clothing details, anatomy pieces, light and shadow, etc etc); this can help crack the malaise for sure... learning how to use references is good, as well as whatever tools are available to you (in your medium/software). How To Do This is sort of a different post, but it does help (and sometimes annoyingly so; there's been rare but very annoying moments in my career where i will be simply looking at a picture and idly make an observation that cracks a style/anatomy problem i've had for Years and im always like COME ON!!! hahaha--but yes looking at references and studying them "like an artist" definitely helps, even when it's not as miraculous as that). overall work smarter and nail down the stuff you're unsure about, then incorporate what you've learned into your art style until it looks a way you like. you will likely have to just grind it out sometimes, and often this grind will not feel particularly fun. but you can Dog Medication Salami Pocket yourself into it if you're drawing something you're sufficiently Deranged about. <- this is what diesel is always doing with those women (LOL)

also, Output. you do have to Be Making Stuff in order to finish stuff. for example for comic projects like adastra or failteacher au, if i can draw ~1 page a day, the update will be complete in no time. but i have to draw that 1 page every day to make it happen, even if i feel off or lack confidence about what i'm making. of course i'm not saying you shouldn't take breaks; you NEED to take breaks, set your goals to your own level, and listen to yourself (and don't get some kind of wrist problem like me please). but the point im trying to make is that if you can make yourself sit down and do it even though you're scared it'll turn out bad, (or, hell, even if this part of your project is Simply Boring), then you can do it anytime. this is important too. but you will probably still sometimes feel stuck if you try to work and grind all the time.

DIET: regularly, but especially when you're stuck in a rut, step away from your craft and enrich your diet. you have to play just as much as you have to work. for example, i am always ALWAYS reading comics. at any given time i probably have 1-4 (sometimes more) tabs open of different comics i am simultaneously reading!!!! i read webcomics, webtoons, manga, DC--any demographic or genre, i take random recs from people and just go read them. whatever medium you're in, you have to take in what other people are doing with it, you have to let them teach and inspire you. you have to branch out and look at genres and styles you usually don't. unwind and look at comics, at illustrations, at design, at animation, at video games. enjoy them as an audience, but look at them like an artist too. when you like something, pause and examine (as both an artist and audience) why you like it. (vice versa: if you don't like something, you can try to figure out why that is!) let other people's ideas and habits flow over you. you have to relax and enrich your mind, to refresh your creativity and motivation. this is crucial. when you come back, you'll feel refreshed and ready to go, and your big brain cauldron of tools + ideas + techniques will be all shiny and bubbling. it's just as important to experience art as it is to make it. i really can't stress that enough!!!!

i talk about comics specifically here because right now obviously i am making a lot of comics (adastra, failteachers). i often feel like i get stuck in boring page layouts and can't think of how to panel something. and honestly sometimes a basic layout that just Gets Through The Scene is simply sufficient (after all, not everything has to be a Groundbreaking New Masterpiece; we would all get fatigued by that!)--or otherwise a "boring layout" is just what i have to put down in order to put down anything at all. but in both cases, reading comics and taking in what people are doing with their layouts makes me feel refreshed and i can return to my own work all rested and bright-eyed. everything we read and watch and take in is added to our "mental library" for the brain to reference when it's time to create something. it is just as enriching and important to experience someone else's art and perspective, and to enjoy a diverse range of impressions. you are always learning and observing, so try to pay attention--it's feeding your brain... :j

(and now, hopefully, your enriched Diet has added fertilizer for your Derangement, and the entire council can take their turn again from the top of the order. HDFHBJFS)

hmm...

well, overall, like i said at the top, there's no One Solution or really Single Piece Of Advice i can offer you. but i hope maybe you got something out of it anyway. everyone's a bit different and everyone's ideal workflow and journey is different too. but don't give up, keep at it, and...GOOD LUCK!!! 🫡🫡🫡

& always remember: in the end, making something YOU like, that looks good to YOU and fulfills YOUR goals, is more important than making something "perfect" (if such a thing even exists). as long as YOU'RE enjoying making your art (yes, even when making the art is hell and sucks!), that's all that matters. 🤝

[thedaythatwas]

How to be Alone

Summary: Goro Akechi has 30 days to vacate his apartment. If only moving on were half as easy as moving out.

CW: alcohol, emetophobia, run-of-the-mill violent thoughts from Akechi, and more repression than you could possibly fathom

This is just a little snippet of a post-canon Akechi character study I've been working on! I want to share it here on tumblr as a standalone oneshot. Please don't expect any tension to be resolved <333 because that's not happening here <333

Big thank you to my lovely betas, lambsear (ao3), @cardiganbear, and @cloudysonder. Another massive thanks to @chaoticconstellation – thank you for all of the inspo and motivation (and for making me aware that apartments that evil-looking exist!)

House Hunting (or, I'm not hung up on you anymore, but here's why I hung up)

Shopping for apartments online was hell.

Akechi was no stranger to feelings of mind-numbing rage. Even so, there was something about the website he was using to search for a new living space that made him particularly angry, even by his own standards. His cursor drifted across its screen, its interface lagged, and despite his perfect internet connection, it seemed as though every thirty seconds the damn thing refreshed itself. 

Akechi wasn’t sure where exactly he was looking to live; his requirements for a new place were the vague but apt key terms, ‘Tokyo,’ ‘cheap,’ and ‘studio.’ Unfortunately, his criteria seemed to be mutually exclusive. A room of his own would cost an arm and a leg; a room with a roommate or two would take a doable (albeit still exorbitant) chunk from his savings. It was tragic, really, that Akechi would be at risk of causing grievous bodily harm to himself and others if he were forced to share a living space. Forking over cash he didn’t have was quite literally his only option. 

Akechi might have been able to search out some middle ground between striking gold beneath the streets of Kichijoji and committing another homicide if he had the luxury of time to plan his move. He had always been scrappy, even if he was seldom lucky. 

Time, however, was something that Akechi didn’t have. That, of course, had to do with the circumstances that had pushed him to bearing the indignities of online apartment hunting in the first place.

On February 3rd, Akechi had woken up in his bed. This was strange for a number of reasons. One: he didn’t make a habit of waking up when his bedside clock brightly proclaimed it to be 8:37pm. 

Two: Goro Akechi was supposed to be dead. 

And, joy of all joys, he was not. Upon registering this unfortunate new development in the saga of misfortunes that was his existence, Akechi had rolled over, buried his head in his pillow, and screamed. When soreness in his throat informed him that screaming was no longer a viable way to spend his time, he had walked to his near-empty kitchen and grabbed the frilly bottle of expensive single malt scotch that Shido had given him the day he had reported to his office to confirm Wakaba Ishikki’s death.

Akechi had been saving the bottle for the day he won.

Well. Cheers to that one. 

He had sat down on the linoleum tile floor and taken a large swig out of the bottle. Presumably, he’d repeated the act a number of times, because the next morning he’d woken up in his bed – again, ironically, with no memory of how he’d arrived there – and promptly thrown up on himself. 

He’d tossed his unlucky shirt in the garbage, along with the bottle he’d found lying knocked over and bone dry on the kitchen floor. He really had always hated it.

After spending several days lying in his bed, only leaving it to periodically feed himself one of the instant ramen packets he stockpiled in the one cabinet in his kitchen he actively used, Akechi had washed his sheets and moved on.

What else could he do?

He had contacted Sae Niijima first, because while he had been spending several days laying horizontal in a dark room, adding an abstract collage of broth splatters to his sweatpants and trying to convince himself that any of his recent decisions actually mattered, Akira Kurusu was probably behind bars giving testimony that would damn Shido and potentially put himself away for good in the process. 

And like hell was he going to let Joker one-up him by rotting away in jail while Akechi – clearly, the most deserving party in this scenario on both counts – walked free.

As soon as he’d heard the click of his phone connecting to Sae’s, Akechi had come in guns blazing announcing his intent to march down to the police station and confess to everything he’d done. He would gladly go down with Shido’s ship if it meant he could anchor him well and truly to rock bottom. 

The elder Niijima sister had rolled shockingly well with Akechi’s punches. After expressing mild surprise that he was alive, Sae had efficiently talked him off his ledge.

“Do you want Shido to be locked away for life? If your answer is yes, I suggest you stay well away from my case. I have a strategy, and it will be much less effective if I have to account for the testimony of a magical teenage assassin confessing to cognitively killing some of Japan’s most powerful men just as they’ve begun to take me seriously.” 

Akechi had never answered her question, because Akechi didn’t want Shido to be locked away. Not like this, anyway. What he had wanted hadn’t involved Kurusu, and yet, here Kurusu was in the center of it all, robbing Akechi of his chance to make Shido’s fall really hurt. 

Still, Akechi had come to terms with the fact that what he wanted and what he would get were two very different things in regards to the fate of Masayoshi Shido, and to this brave new world where Akechi was meant to be long dead. 

What he had done was take a deep breath, swallow down his very reasonable retorts – he had at least five – and ask about Kurusu. 

His inquiry was fruitful, if aggravating. Akechi hadn’t been naive enough to expect that any update on Kurusu wouldn’t be aggravating. 

Per Sae, it wouldn’t be long until Kurusu was released from juvenile detention (implied: so long as Akechi didn’t butt in). Apparently, his extended posse had banded together, and Sae doubted it would be more than a few weeks before he was out. He was actually on track to have his criminal record completely overturned.

Kurusu was relying on the power of friendship to not only avoid a life sentence, but to completely exonerate himself from the year he had spent galavanting around the Metaverse, stealing hearts and minds and Akechi’s life’s work, too. One might say that Akechi was less than enthused. Mostly, because he was near certain that using the force of true love to outrun his mistakes would actually work for Kurusu, because he was Kurusu, and of fucking course it could.

He hadn’t told Sae as much, but he sensed she’d intuited his frustration from his chorus of ‘...I see,’ ‘...I see,’ ‘...I see,’  through the phone, each repetition darker than the last. 

With that sorted, Akechi had told Sae in no uncertain terms that she was not to tell Kurusu or any of the other Phantom Thieves that he was alive under any circumstances. She said that she would respect his wishes. She hadn’t asked any follow up questions. It was a refreshing change of pace from the back and forth that talking to the rest of Kurusu’s loyal followers always seemed to entail.

Then again, this was Sae. She had been a fixture in his life long before she had become a mainstay in Kurusu’s.

That little detail out of the way, Akechi had been prepared to hang up. Before he could, Sae had invited him to coffee. Bewildered, Akechi had accepted.

“You are aware, I presume, that I’ve killed more people than the number of cases you’ve litigated over the course of your entire career, aren’t you?” Akechi had said as soon as he had slid into the stiffly upholstered booth across from Sae at the too cold, overly gray café where they had agreed to meet the following day. “Including among them Wakaba Isshiki and Kunikazu Okumura.”

Sae had pulled her credit card out of her sleek handbag and rapped it on the table between them.

“I am. Could you give me your order Akechi-kun? Drinks are on me today.”

Akechi had ordered a black drip coffee – far from the best he’d ever had – and the two of them had talked about his future, not his past. 

Sae told Akechi that she would be willing to hire him as a personal assistant. She couldn’t swing him a position interning in the public prosecutor’s office; it went without saying that Akechi ought to stay as far away as possible from any branch of law enforcement for the foreseeable future. Sure, very few people recognized him nowadays – the demiurge had fallen and taken Shido’s influence with it, and Akechi had been out of the public eye for a sufficient number of news cycles for even his most avid fans to lose interest – but it seemed unwise to tempt fate. 

They both knew that most of Shido’s conspiracy was still at large. As repentant as their former leader was, his sentiments were not widely shared. Shido had done more damage than a single change of heart could fix. 

All this to say, Akechi would be keeping a low profile. Not that he would have acted otherwise, regardless of who might want him imprisoned, or who might want him dead.

Akechi was, quite frankly, tired.

His employment would hinge on agreeing to take his high school equivalency and college entrance exams before the next university matriculation cycle. Akechi had, more or less, finished his final year of high school. Unfortunately, the less in that statement meant that he had never actually graduated. Still, he could easily pass a high school equivalency exam – an inconvenience, but a bureaucratic necessity, and hardly an insurmountable one. Before his life had gone to shit, he had been on track to get top marks on his entrance exams. It wouldn’t be difficult to keep himself versed in the material he needed to know in order to pass with flying colors.

He didn’t have strong feelings for or against Sae’s vision for his future. Akechi had been slated to die long before he had shot shut the bulkhead door on his father’s ship. He had gone to cram school because it was what the detective prince was supposed to do, and he had excelled at it because the world had told him that he couldn’t. He wasn’t like Makoto Niijima, with her good marks and bright future. 

Sae would pay him for doing this, though. More, she had that earnest look in her eyes behind the stoic contours of her face that suggested she really thought she was doing what was best for him. 

Akechi had agreed to her terms. 

Besides, he’d always been told that college wasn’t in the cards for him. The idea of proving those people wrong lit something up inside him that he hadn’t realized had been smothered until then.

Akechi would work for Sae on weekdays and study on weekends. She would check in with him once a week to confirm that he was indeed making progress on his personal studies and to assign him new memos and forms to copy edit. So long as he was on track, she would pay him another week.

It had all sounded so easy. Too easy. Akechi needed to ask.

“Why?”

Sae had taken a long sip of her cappuccino. “Why what?” 

“You know what.” Akechi had crossed his arms, his mouth drawn in a hard line, “Why this?”

Sae had set her cup down onto her saucer without so much as an audible clink. “Is it really so difficult to believe that I’d want to help you?”

“You pity me.” He’d said it like a fact, because it was a fact, and he didn’t take kindly to it. 

Sae hadn’t looked surprised to hear Akechi’s words. She raised her eyebrows.

“No, I don’t. And I’m not absolving you, either. You made choices that hurt people, and you need to face consequences for that. But, Akechi-kun…” 

Sae paused, as if weighing her next words on her tongue. “Goro. You were sixteen.”

Akechi didn’t know which part of her addendum offended him most: Sae’s use of his given name – he’d bristled, he couldn’t remember how long it had been since someone had been presumptuous enough to call him Goro – or her implication that he hadn’t known exactly what he was doing back when he first approached Shido. 

She hadn’t seen how proud he had been when Shido handed him his first pistol. She hadn’t been there each time he’d pulled its trigger. Akechi had stopped feeling anything about his hits after he’d downed a handful of targets. Through it all, he’d never felt remorse. He’d even smiled, the first time.

That smile hadn’t lasted, of course. It had fallen right along with Ishikki. Still, everyone knows that it’s your first reaction to a thing that really counts. 

Her eyes on his were resolute, as if she were daring him to object. She wasn’t budging. 

Sae had sounded awfully confident for someone who had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

Akechi remembered their long days at the police station and the late night dinners Sae would treat him to after, when he’d watch as she scarfed down cheap conveyor belt sushi and let her dignified mask slip like the rice that fell from her chopsticks to her perfectly starched dress shirt. He remembered their constant shop-talk that always seemed to border on something more personal. 

Sae knew what it was like to prove yourself in a world that wanted to see you fail. He remembered watching her come undone in October, how he almost felt bad as he watched her slip further away from her sister, and from him.

Gripping his mug hard enough to put its handle in peril, Akechi had bitten back the urge to inform Sae that he was eighteen years old now, and had done very bad things continuously from age sixteen through now, thank you very much. He was suddenly aware of exactly how juvenile it would sound if he did.

He decided that Sae could call him what she wanted. ‘Goro’ didn’t feel wrong, he supposed. It just felt new.

She was wrong about him, but he had let her continue without correction. 

“You did things that were unforgivable. What our system did to you was unforgivable.” She took a sip of her cappuccino. The action was smug, somehow, like she knew just how much she’d gotten away with when Akechi kept his silence. At least she was self-aware. “Masayoshi Shido is being brought to justice, and Kurusu-kun isn’t facing anything that he can’t handle. This will be over soon.” 

Akechi could hardly believe that. While he had faith in Sae’s legal prowess, Shido was just one head of a veritable hydra of corruption and intrigue. Rooting out his conspiracy would air out Japan’s dirty laundry in a way that he doubted the powerful men who soiled it would permit. It would be dangerous business to try.

He couldn’t fathom that Shido was a problem that had an imminent expiration date. He was supposed to be Akechi’s Gordian knot. Shido was his arms race, his mutually assured destruction. Unraveling him couldn’t possibly be so simple, and it couldn’t possibly be done without Akechi. 

Could it?

Where the hell did that leave him?

Of course, Sae’s words were meant to be encouraging, even if Akechi could actively feel his vision tunneling and his pulse jackhammering up. He clamped that feeling down and shoved it somewhere to sort through later – or never – as Sae pushed on.

“I want you to move forward. I don’t see any reason for you not to. That’s where you’ll find justice.”

It all sounded so scripted. Akechi wondered how many times she had practiced her little speech in the mirror after she’d drafted it on her legal pad. He knew it was her standard practice for high stakes days in court. Sae never let slip that she was nervous, but that didn’t mean she never was. 

While Akechi was almost flattered that she considered him worth a rehearsal or two, her dedication had been proving to be rather inconvenient that day. A Sae who had decided she needed to win seldom lost. The Phantom Thieves had helped her reorient her sense of justice towards good ends, but there was no version of Sae who wasn’t as stubborn as the one they’d encountered in her casino.

Fortunately, so was Akechi. 

“I’ve earned execution ten times over.” 

He barely managed to keep his words level as he forced them out. It was vexing that he needed to remind the woman sitting across from him – a public prosecutor with one of the most gleaming case records Tokyo had seen in recent memory – that per the word of her own law, he deserved to die. 

She tucked a wayward strand of hair neatly behind her ear and clasped her hands together on the tabletop between them.

“And I’m telling you that executing you doesn’t help anyone,” she hadn’t raised her voice, but Akechi could hear it harden with authority, “Learn to be a better person. You still have plenty of time to grow. Don’t forfeit this opportunity that you’ve been given to do that.”

He scoffed. “And if I can’t?”

“Then don’t. But I think you can.” 

She had said it without hesitation, like she really believed it. At that realization, Akechi let out a laugh that bordered on a snort, the kind he never would have allowed to slip through his throat when Sae had known him as someone else.

“You’re all insane.”

She hadn’t seemed surprised by his outburst as she took a long drink from her cup. As she swallowed, clearly unperturbed, Akechi found himself wondering if he’d given her too little credit, or himself too much. Probably both.

Sae’s lip quirked up. “Maybe. But I’ve realized that you need to be a little insane to believe you can see the world change for the better. Your teammates helped me learn that.”

Akechi’s hackles raised. “They are not my teammates.”

“Oh really?” She set her cup down onto her saucer, “I think Kurusu-kun would disagree.” 

That half-smile of hers persisted, like she thought she knew something he didn’t. “You know, he asked about you earlier this week. He seemed riled up. I think he would want to know that you’re alive.”

It didn’t even take eyes to notice Akira Kurusu’s bleeding-heart obsession with who he thought Akechi was. It practically radiated off of him in waves you could touch, like he was some sort of sad magnet for homicidal lost causes. Sae wasn’t telling Akechi anything he couldn’t have reasonably inferred, knowing what he did about Kurusu. 

If Sae said that Kurusu was ‘riled up,’ he knew that Kurusu must have been near hysterics. Well, per the yardstick of Kurusu’s typical emoting capacity. He could envision the way Kurusu’s lips had probably gotten all drawn, the way they tended to when he tried to hide that he was feeling more than he let on. 

Kurusu didn’t wear his emotions on his sleeve, but he wasn’t impossible to read if you knew what you were looking to find. His brow had probably furrowed, his fists had probably clenched, and his eyes had probably gone just short of misty. 

Akechi wasn’t sure how he felt about that mental image.

“Well, we can’t always get what we want, now can we?”

“I understand, Goro,” Sae stared him dead in the eye as she said his given name, leaving Akechi no option but to immediately take a good long drink of burnt coffee from his mug. “But consider it for me, won’t you? I don’t think that it would be a bad idea for you to build a support network for yourself.”

 Akechi cursed to himself. He should have known that she wouldn’t let this topic lie so easily.

Akechi grit his teeth. “I don’t think Sakura or Okumura would take kindly to seeing me.”

“Then don’t see them.” She said it matter of fact, like it was that easy. “But, for the record, I think that Kurusu-kun would.”

Of course Kurusu would. Even a child who couldn’t add two and two could piece together that Akira Kurusu would probably lop off a limb to have been in that booth with them that day. The idiot had wished Akechi back into existence and into his life, and he would again if he could.

That was why he couldn’t know that Akechi was alive. 

Well, it accounted for half the issue.

The other half rested on the fact that Kurusu had been the first thing to cross Akechi’s mind in that half second that passed between realizing he was alive and resolving to scream about it. He hadn’t had the decency to fully leave Akechi’s thoughts ever since, with the exception of the several hours he had spent blackout drunk. 

Somehow, that last bit was less than reassuring. 

Even worse, none of it was exactly new. 

The long and short of it was that Akechi needed to get himself clean, and he couldn’t very well do that if Kurusu came chasing after him. 

And so, he made his words as sharp as he could muster. “I think that Kurusu-kun should get a grip and realize that I very sincerely tried to murder him.”

Sae stared him down. He was under no illusions – this was an interrogation. It was a surprise when her gaze softened. 

She hummed. “Do you regret it?”

And wasn’t that a loaded question? 

He regretted that it had all amounted to nothing. He regretted that Shido had played him for a fool, and that on the evening of November 20th, he’d gone home and damn near cracked open his bottle of Shido revenge scotch. He regretted that at some catastrophic point in the past year, besting Joker had become something bigger than besting his father, and that just as soon as Akechi had thought he’d managed it, the metal on metal scent of blood splattering onto the interrogation room’s table from Kurusu’s too-blank face became something he needed to forget. 

Of course, he also regretted that he’d been tricked, and that he’d wasted several nights wide awake thinking about the way Kurusu had looked at him that night in the bathhouse, sweat on his brow and droplets of steam condensed on his irritatingly long lashes, like he had really wanted to be there with him, listening. 

His brief brush with insomnia had cost Akechi twelve dollars in drugstore coffee, five dollars in sugar-free energy drinks, and at least three years of his life, if you accounted for the carcinogens that made up the latter. Akechi did.

At least he’d saved that bottle of scotch. It had gone to waste anyway, but it was more about the principle of the thing.

But he couldn’t very well explain any of that to Sae. So, Akechi had lied.

“No.”

“I see.” If Sae was disappointed in his answer, she didn’t show it. She gave him a nod, drummed her fingers on the table, and checked her watch. “Let me know if you change your mind. I’ll keep your existence to myself until you tell me to do otherwise.”

Sae had swallowed down the last of her drink, and that was that.

Since that day, his life had gone on. He spent his weekdays looking over Sae’s contracts and his weekends grinding out practice problems from study books. Sometimes he would work in his apartment. He’d draw open the blinds and spread his papers across his bed – he had a desk, but it was cramped, his chair was stiff, and he’d never really brought himself around to using the space as it was meant to be used. 

Other days, Akechi camped out in cafés around the city. He operated under the assumption that any place that had the audacity to charge 700 yen for a barely passable latte must have presumed he would use said latte as an all-day pass to free wifi and a climate controlled workspace. Akechi felt vindicated in taking full advantage.

He found that the more tasks he had to fill his time, the less liable his mind was to wander. 

Not that it was always easy. It had been hardest at first, when more mornings than not the was filled with the urge to lay under his comforter and rot through the day. He’d learned quickly that when that urge struck, it was best to call Sae and pick up an extra stack of whatever she could push off on him before her work day started. He would chip away at it during the daylight hours and catch up with his other tasks at night, a can of cold brew in one hand and a highlighter in the other. 

He never slipped behind Sae’s expectations for him, because he was Goro Akechi, and he didn’t let himself lose if he could help it. Still, it wasn’t lost on him that he wasn’t supposed to be alive. Sue him if that got to him once in a while. 

He hadn’t planned for any of this, and if he did anything besides move straight through it all, the shiny paint of productivity he’d slapped over his unplanned extension pack to living would slide right off. It would become obvious that there was little holding his life together besides spite, busywork, and a lawyer who had willfully decided she wouldn’t let him quit as her part-timer, or as anything else. 

Thinking about that never did him any good, so he didn’t. Fortunately, Akechi was no stranger to doing what needed to be done first and wondering how on earth he had managed it after the fact. 

Now, he needed to move forward. So he did.

That wasn’t to say his strategy always worked. 

It tended to happen late at night, when Akechi didn’t have the energy to stop his thoughts from drifting to the subjects his wiser, more conscious self refused to engage. 

Typically, that meant Joker. No. It always meant Joker. Shido, too, but it was infuriating, really, how even those thoughts tended to meander back around to Joker, too.��

As Akechi had taken his post-hibernation shower months ago, his sheets in the wash and grease sloughing from his hair in the suds of overpriced shampoo, Akechi had come to a number of resolute conclusions about the state of his life. Namely, if he was going to continue to live it, he had a few non-negotiables.

To start, he would keep a wide berth from any news outlets covering the Shido trial – he was sure there would be more than a few. He’d find a way to get his hands on another, cheaper bottle of something high-proof. He would learn to use one kitchen appliance besides the microwave. The oven, maybe.

And, of course, he would keep himself far, far away from Akira Kurusu.

Akechi would have liked to think that his thoughts always seemed to land on Kurusu out of force of habit. After all, he’d spent months tracking his every move. He’d never quite learned to think like Kurusu – he doubted that anyone could – but Akechi certainly knew the timetables of the trains he took to get around town, the names of his managers at each of his (many) part-time jobs, and which vending machines he preferred to get his snacks from. 

Had he strictly needed to collect so much information on the leader of the Phantom Thieves in the name of reconnaissance? Perhaps not. It wasn’t as though knowing that Kurusu routinely arrived at his station around three minutes before his scheduled train would actually give him an edge in battle. 

(Akechi of the past had tried to posture that it might, but Akechi of the past was an idiot, and Akechi of the present could admit that.)

He had never been one to half-ass, though, and Kurusu had always been so interesting. His calendar protested his reprioritization, but there was nothing new or surprising about that. The detective prince’s life had been a scheduling impossibility, and Akechi had managed regardless. More than managed, really.

Tragically, ‘reconnaissance’ couldn’t account for the way Akechi’s vision tunneled around Kurusu. It couldn’t explain away the thoughts Kurusu always managed to coax out of his head and into speech. 

So, no. Akechi wasn’t stupid enough to believe that his continued fixation on Akira Kurusu was ‘force of habit.’ It was something much more dangerous, and he couldn’t afford to allow himself to succumb to it. Not after everything.

If Akechi was going to live a life, that life would damn well be his own. He refused to live for anybody but himself, and that included Akira Kurusu.

Still, the version of Akechi that lay awake in his bed at 4am, strung out on caffeine, had been known to have other thoughts from time to time. When his eyes were bloodshot and jargon swirled on his ceiling, he thought back to the look on Kurusu’s face when he had caught his glove. Cocky – Joker always was — but something more behind that. Akechi could only describe it as the expression of a boy missing something he hadn’t yet lost. 

It had taken him too long to realize that Kurusu had known exactly what the glove had meant from the moment it had been thrown. It had taken him even longer to realize that Kurusu had understood it better than Akechi had. 

It was enough to make him want to tear Kurusu apart, nice and slow, piece by piece. It was almost enough to make him want to reach for his phone.

He didn’t, of course. There was a lot of power in ‘almost.’ It meant that he was in control.

It was easier during the day. Sae always had something to shrug off on him if he needed it. 

Of course, there was also the pesky matter of his father.

That day at the café, Sae had mentioned that she’d spoken to him. Shido had said that he wouldn’t implicate Akechi in his trial. Apparently, he’d expressed regrets about his treatment of his son. 

Akechi hadn’t asked her for more information. She had already said too much. 

Once, there had been nothing Akechi wanted more than to hear his father drool out how big of a mistake it had been to leave him. Now, the thought of Shido feeling at all guilty, or heaven forbid, apologizing to him, made bile rise in the back of his throat.

Just one hit, and Akechi would want another. There would be nothing of him left. It was a trend, it seemed, that Akechi needed to learn when to keep well enough away from people he’d let spin him in circles.

Fortunately, he had always been a quick study.

Akechi hadn’t tried to contact him, and he and Sae hadn’t discussed Masayoshi Shido any further since. 

Given his track record with all things luck and Shido related, Akechi really should have expected that decision to come back and bite him. 

The rabid dog that was the universe’s refusal to let Akechi live his life in peace caught up to him one day in early June. Coming home from a coffee shop, mini-mart sushi in hand, he’d seen it. 

He had thirty days to vacate his apartment, because of fucking course he did.

Akechi felt six years old again. Seeing the notice pasted to his apartment door, he may as well have been holding his mother’s hand. He felt it clench around his pudgy fingers tight enough to hurt. He knew that she didn’t mean it. He knew that she hadn’t meant to fall behind on rent, either. He knew that some nights at her club were lucrative, and that some mornings, she couldn’t find it in herself to get out of bed. Their income had never been stable, and neither had their address.

But his mother wasn’t there, she hadn’t been for a long time, and Akechi was the only one responsible for the little crescent-shaped indents in his palms as he stared at the paper on his door and tried to will it away with the sheer force of his – in his humble opinion – very justified righteous anger.

He’d called Sae immediately, right as soon as he’d ripped down the notice, gone inside, and poured himself a drink. Apparently, all of Shido’s hidden assets had finally been frozen. Even if he wanted to continue to pay Akechi’s rent, he couldn’t. Akechi hadn’t been affected until now because Shido had, prior to recent events, had his apartment bills set to auto-pay from one of his more clandestine bank accounts. 

That was something that even now made the part of Akechi’s brain that had stayed young and poor recoil. To have so much cash that a transfer of that size could simply be counted on to go through every month, no risk of declining – from an auxiliary checking account – seemed almost gluttonous. 

Well, the payment had finally bounced, it seemed. Nobody was untouchable. It would have been more gratifying if Akechi weren’t the one being left high and dry. He had hung up the phone and downed the last of his drink. His mediocre room-temperature sushi forgotten, he’d taken a seat on his floor, opened his laptop, and typed in a preliminary search for Tokyo-studio-cheap. 

That brought him to now. It was remarkable, really, how his day had only managed to get worse and worse in the hour that had passed since then.

Staying in his current apartment simply wasn’t an option. Akechi had tucked money into his savings account during his time as the detective prince, of course, but even the sizable amount he had slowly accrued for himself over the last several years wouldn’t be able to cover more than a month or two of rent in the place Shido had picked out for him. It had a separate kitchen, living, and sleeping space, alongside a full bathroom. It was fully renovated and featured in-unit laundry. It even came with a parking spot (not that Akechi owned a car, could drive, or feasibly use his space in the garage in literally any capacity). 

All of it had been an undeniable power play on Shido’s part. The place really was too much for him. It was a needless show of excess – an in-your-face sort of look what I can do for you, aren’t you scared to lose it?

Sure, Akechi could spend three years worth of residual earnings on thirty extra days in this place, but all it would do was buy him time, not to mention drain the last financial cushion he had left. He needed to put down a deposit on another place, after all. His bank account would be running on fumes after that, and rent at his new place would be due almost immediately. 

Fuck. He’d almost forgotten his utilities. His phone bill. His Wi-Fi. He didn’t need to be a genius to know that any day now, those expenses would hit him too.

Shido would be burning in hell for a whole host of reasons – Akechi knew this, because he’d spent the last several years of his life passively looping his long, long list of them through his head like a rallying cry. It was always a solid hit that got his head where it needed to be to do whatever he needed to do. This newest slight was a tiny drop of water in the ocean of ways his father had wronged him. 

Still. If there was any justice in the world, Akechi would be allowed to spit on his father during his fiery descent. Just a little bonus to him for needing to go through this after everything he’d already endured.

All roads led to moving. May as well get it done sooner rather than later. 

Akechi would need to pick up a second job to somehow come up with the difference between his dwindling savings account, Sae’s weekly commission, and the cost of living accommodations that would let him avoid adding to his death toll. It would be a less insulting prospect if any of the studio apartments he would be able to afford after that looked remotely liveable.

This one said that the paint on its walls might contain traces of lead, and that its landlord wouldn’t be held liable for medical damages that resulted from it. That one had visible mold on the bathroom tiles, even in the very obviously postured online listing photos. He shuddered to think of the state of that shower if he saw it in the flesh. 

Every listing Akechi had looked at so far seemed to come with its own set of shockingly diverse hazards, their one continuity being that they evoked similar feelings of dread in the pit of his stomach. The ones that didn’t come with a laundry list of health and safety violations stated up front that they required an application pre-screening. Akechi’s credit score was perfectly fine – the detective prince had always paid off his statements in full, and on time. What he didn’t have were two good references. As it turned out, that was rapidly proving itself to be a serious problem.

Even on a webpage with the best user interface imaginable, the experience would have been bleak. That said, Akechi might have felt slightly less homicidal if the website didn’t reload every single time he clicked the back-out arrow after he decided he wasn’t (yet) desperate enough to risk braving exposed wiring in his combined living-bedroom-kitchen-foyer-bathroom space.

It wasn’t as though Akechi hadn’t expected this would happen – he just hadn’t expected it to happen now. He had wanted to be able to really plan his move. The fact he’d even thought that taking his sweet time could be an option for him was proof that he’d let his guard down. 

He clicked on another listing. Wonderful. This one was just under 150 square feet. He honestly hadn’t known that was legal.

Well. Actually. 

He paused. Zoomed in.

On second glance, maybe it wasn’t so bad. It looked clean, recently renovated. The move-in date fit his needs. It was small, sure, but it seemed like the space was well allocated. He mentally crumpled up his commitment to learning how to use an oven. It wouldn’t be happening in a place of this size, but maybe that was for the best, anyway.

He decided to click the button to arrange a tour with the landlord. Maybe his situation wasn’t so dire after all.

Of course, that was when the website decided to crash.

The noise that wrenched its way out of his throat wasn’t unlike how he expected a dying cat might sound. He slammed his laptop shut and rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyelids. 

He needed another drink.

He poured himself a coffee mug of vodka and water. It was like vodka and soda for people who barely had the means to buy themself vodka, and for whom also needing to buy mixers felt like adding insult to injury. It was disgusting, but a disgusting necessity. Today, his crime against good taste was the housing market’s fault.

He took a sip, grimaced, and climbed into his bed. He propped himself up on his pillows and took another long drink. It didn’t taste quite so bad now that he’d whet his palate. 

Fuck. He hadn’t even had the chance to change when he’d gotten home. He undid the top buttons of his dress shirt where they pinched at his neck. It wasn’t as though Akechi had anyone to look nice for, nowadays, but his wardrobe hadn’t gotten a radical overhaul since the detective prince’s fall from notoriety. He’d worn designer shirts then, he’d wear designer shirts now. They looked slightly worse for wear, but at least that meant they were incrementally more comfortable to wear out now than they had been back in the day.

Not by much. He sighed as the stale air conditioning of his room hit his skin. He took another sip of his drink. Then another.

It wouldn’t be so hard to find that listing again. He was pissed on principle. Websites should work. Apartments should be bigger than closets. You should be able to beg a landlord to let you live in a closet-sized apartment on a website that at least functioned halfway decently.

He took another good long gulp from his mug.

He could have really gone for coffee, right then. Not the glorified overpriced milk you could get from any old chain. The good stuff.

It had been a long time since he’d had good coffee. 

There was only one place Akechi had ever had truly, honest-to-god good coffee.

His cellphone was lying at the foot of his bed.

He could send him a text, right now. Something clever. Akechi knew that no matter what it was, it would shock him, but it needed to be witty, too, because he would expect nothing less. He would kill to see the look on his face. He would look down at his phone, see Akechi’s name light up his screen, and his eyes would get all wide and scared. 

You’ve been alive all this time? 

They would meet up, and Kurusu, he’d be miserable, he’d probably cry or do something equally sappy, and – once he really processed – he’d be mad as all hell. Akechi would laugh at him, say something as snarky as the situation demanded, and watch the anger melt right off of Kurusu’s face in real time. 

Akechi would finally have pulled one over on him. He’d finally win. He could feel the rush already. 

Kurusu wanted to lose so bad, it was embarrassing, really.

Right as fantasy Kurusu threw himself at fantasy Akechi, real Akechi felt a wave of cold dread wash over him.

He walked to the sink and poured his final few sips of vodka water down the sink.

No. Hell no. 

He turned on the tap and splashed cold water on his face. It dripped down his neck. He couldn’t bring himself to mind as it trickled down to the collar of his undone shirt.

He was better than this. He knew damn well that the only one ‘losing’ in the situation his addled mind had cooked up was himself. 

It had only taken half a drink to get him there. 

Fuck. He doused his face in more water for good measure.  

He walked back to his bedroom, unlocked his phone, and scrolled through his message logs to find his last conversation with Akira Kurusu. Taking care not to click anything damning, he swiped to delete it.

There. It was over. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t done that sooner.

He rinsed out his mug and poured himself a glass of water from the tap. It didn’t need ice – he’d already confirmed that it was sufficiently chilled.

His laptop was still on his kitchen floor. Akechi took a seat, cross legged, and reloaded the webpage he had been on previously. Surely, he’d have more luck this session. Maybe he’d even find a place larger than 150 square feet. 175 seemed like a reasonable goal.

He would make this work. He was moving apartments, and he was moving on. He’d managed far more difficult things in the past. 

He looked at his phone, sitting on the floor to his right. He tapped the display once. 

No new messages. And why would there be?

He sighed and got to work.

[mxdarling]

[FABLE OF THE STARS (2)]

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

ೃ⁀➷: summary: after reading the first few pages of the fable of stars, you can't help but let yourself be intrigued by even more people who live beyond the stars. let us open your eyes to their story.

ೃ⁀➷: word count: 1.2k

ೃ⁀➷: ref/inspo: fable of the stars #1 | fable of the stars #2

[author’s note:] FINALLY PART 2!! no one really asked for a part 2 but i felt the need to write one plus my motivation is high on hsr anyways, so here i am rushing to finish this before school starts so let's hope this one is written a bit better than the first one CUZZ i didn't proofread shit last time BHDHBD

[part one]

[note:] If there is anything else triggering here that I didn’t list in the warnings section, please tell me.

[warnings:] bad metaphoric writing, bad attempt of character analysis (take this with a grain of salt please), lowercase, not spoiler free, can be considered 'x reader' if you're delulu enough, noah is trying to explain hsr character lore (and failing miserably, once again).

MARCH 7TH, THE WARRIOR

a cute girl who always has her camera with her and enjoys taking pictures of everything around her. according to her, it's good to have a pastime for someone her age, and she's less likely to forget these memories. every photo she takes inside her camera is safely kept close to her heart and in the comfort of her own room, where she can hang it up and smile to herself, hoping to take even more photos while she's around. perhaps deep down there's this inkling fear that one day all those memories she's made with everyone will be forgotten, that these people who've been with her through thick and thin will suddenly become strangers to her.

although she often has a smile on her face, she struggles to find her place in the astral express. in her mind, everyone has a role within the astral express: pom-pom is the conductor, himeko is the navigator, welt is the jack of all-trades, dan heng is the guard, and she is... the warrior. she doesn't necessarily feel nor act like one; warriors commonly don't wield a bow and arrow—rather, they hold their swords with a tight grip, slashing through every obstacle that comes their way, and when faced with a formidable foe, they push forward with bravery in their hearts and end up victorious. one day, she wishes to be just like those warriors, and maybe she'll find her place in the express.

contrary to belief, a cute girl such as herself is very much into mystery novels, especially ones that feature a detective. how they follow the trail of clues to piece together to hopefully solve whatever mystery they're trying to uncover—that's what makes the story so compelling for you. how you can read a clue and not understand its purpose only to realize what the clue meant many pages later, how there's a sense of satisfaction after reaching the end of the protagonist's journey to figure out the truth, how they learned so much about the world around them, their family, their friends, their enemies, their frenemies, but most importantly—themselves. to march, the feeling of needing to find what's inside a mystery is all too familiar, for she—herself—is the greatest mystery.

"a girl who once slumbered in eternal ice and knows nothing about her past. to find out the truth about her origins, she decided to travel with the astral express. as of right now, she has prepared about 67 different versions of her life story for herself."

JINGYUAN, GENERAL OF THE XIANZHOU LUOFU

the "dozing general," a title he's gained through his seemingly lazy demeanor, taking every opportunity to take a nap, spending an awful amount of time in leisure, gradually falling asleep during one of fu xuan's lengthy reasonings of why she should be nominated to generalship, and much more. yet he's much more attentive than he lets out to be, able to perceive the intentions of other people, keeping his cards close to his chest, knowing exactly how to play them at the right moment to catch the other person off guard, and checkmate you when you least expect it.

through his careful management of affairs and wise strategy of leading the cloud knights, the peaceful years seem to stretch into many centuries for the citizens of the luofu. while some have complained that the general feared combat so much so that he rarely resorts to battle it out, yet that couldn't be further from the truth. the reason is simple: he's protective—not corrective; he does not consider saving the xianzhou luofu from disaster at the last minute as a showcase of wisdom. he continues to oversee the xianzhou luofu, using his intellect to cut down on any thorny problems they encounter—like the tip of the sharpest blade.

even then, his renowned abilities as a general and his intellect are nothing against the cruel reality of time. in the past, the high-cloud quintet was regarded as legends during their time, accomplishing countless feats throughout their prime. however, in just less than a hundred years, the five of them soon fell apart. he watched and witnessed the destruction fall upon his very own friends—how, at the very end, he's the only one remaining. fate has been so cruel to other people around him yet somehow spares his out of everyone else, a haunting reminder of his powerlessness against the enemy that is time.

"the divine foresight, one of the seven arbiter-generals of the xianzhou alliance, leads the cloud knights of the xianzhou luofu. a student of the luofu's previous sword champion, though not known for his martial prowess."

JINGLIU, FORMER SWORD CHAMPION

in the present day, her name is one that is considered forbidden, and it has been like that a long time ago. her name has been erased from any sort of history recorded in the public's eye; only those in higher positions or who lived long enough to see the high-cloud quintet in their prime would remember it. remember how she was the one who established that high-cloud quintet, remember how she taught jing yuan the art of the sword and saw the fruits of his effort turn into his glory, remember how many praised her for wielding a sword so impressively, and that the title of sword champion is one she's earned rightfully so. they remembered, for the past can never be truly forgotten.

she recalls the first time she met her student, a young but devious child who had asked the same questions as she did back when she was younger and when her master was still alive. "master, why do you insist on using the sword? aren't there other weapons available you could've used?" he curiously asked during one of their trainings. "that's like asking why poets write poems; there are many ways to express oneself, but this is the only way i express myself," she replies with wisdom, the same kind her master has given her back then. her master is no longer around, though; there is no one to instruct her or provide any more lessons. however, she no longer needs one; the way of the sword has been imprinted into her system so long ago and so many times. she knows everything there is about a sword; they've become a part of her now.

she's has lifted and wielded many swords in this lifetime, and in many battles and wars she's stood side-to-side with allies and her disciple—no matter which way her sword swung, abominations could never escape the death or imprisonment destined for them. she just never thought she'd be pointing the end of her sword towards a lifelong friend in battle. it was during that time that she felt trapped in her own nightmares again, the destruction of her own home caused by that ominous planet, and she was unable to struggle against such a fate. yet as she leaped forward into the battlefield, suddenly familiar words were heard: "i will cut down even the stars in the sky."

"former sword champion of the luofu, and the creator of the cloud knights' legends of undefeated might. now, her name has been wiped from the records, and she is a traitor of the xianzhou walking on the fine line between sanity and mara-struck."

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

PLEASE DO NOT COPY, REPOST, SHARE, TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO OTHER SITES WITHOUT MY PERMISSION + REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED.

[libbytwq]

wowie i did it! I drew sonic designs for if he were in each shatterverse!

Im very proud of them, they look so skrungly

Also this was a challenge for me, i just kinda made up their designs as i went along with no references and no premade color palettes

Heres the post where i first made the idea:

Anyway, closeups + character info below

(Keep in mind, these characters exist in a timeline where the prism was never shattered)

Renegade Blur, the Sonic of the New Yoke City Shatterverse

I took some design element inspo from Knucks, with the scars and the lil spine dent thingies

He is incredibly reckless and very loud and overconfident (his scars are from being reckless and stupid)

He is kinda similar to Chaos Sonic tbh

He stops at nothing to defeat his enemies, even when his body cant take another hit

He can be a lil bit overbearing, but when it counts, his heart is usually in the right place

He works with Rebel and Knucks, and sometimes they don't get along but they can trust Blur usually

Loves races and is a sore loser

He's also never met Nine, but if he were to meet Nine, he'd be able to get along with him, but would side with the Rebels and agree he can't always be trusted

Very violently aro/ace, he do his own thing and doesn't like the idea of being bogged down by another person he has to take care of

Quill, the Sonic of the Boscage Maze Shatterverse

Took some design inspo from Gnarly and Thorn, as well as the facepaint from Prim

He can be a lil nervous and underconfident, and doesnt know he can run fast (hes a lil bit klutzy - if he runs too fast he trips on something and falls over, so he doesnt run too fast typically)

He loves his friends! He hates getting abandoned

He typically hangs out with Prim, Gnarly, Hangry and Mangey above the forest, but he does hang out with Thorn occasionally below the treetops (the rest of the group has no idea)

Thorn scares him a lot. He is so afraid of her, but he sticks around cuz they do actually care about each other, but they refuse to admit it

Quill is usually the one that the group sends below the forest, cuz he is able to grab some food without immediately getting sent up by Thorn and Birdie

If Thorn ever catches him taking berries, Quill is usually able to explain himself, and Thorn usually lets him off the hook

Quill and Thorn like each other (shhhh dont tell anyone i said that, not even quill knows he likes her)

Mangey is one of his best buds! They get along so well and no one knows why

Has never heard of the idea of relationships, but he has these weird fuzzy feelings for Thorn that he cant identify, hm must be nothing

Sexuality? Whats that?

Aklesh, the Sonic of the No Place Shatterverse

This one was my fav to design. I took a lot of inspo from a lot of the No Place characters, and "Aklesh" is Sanskrit for "Swift Lord"

The shiny rings and accessories are the colors of his friends - Red for Dread, Yellow for Sails, Pink for Black Rose, and Purple for Batten

His bandana on his head is yellow to go along with how Sails's bandana is blue

He just loves vibing with his crew, he gets along well with everybody - Sails and Dread are his besties tho

He's perfectly fine with being lazy and not doing anything everyday, but when the time calls, he's more than happy to be a swashbuckling pirate

Surprisingly, he is not afraid of water

He loves his colorful shiny accessories and is a bit of a collector

The peacemaker of the group, he settles disputes and suggests that the answer isn't through violence - but if the answer is to use violence, like if another pirate ship raids them, he won't stop fighting until he is victorious

Kind of unofficially unspokenly the second in command to Dread

Raging pansexual. Kind of a slut, with how he keeps his shirt half open /j

Aklesh thinks Dread is very very neat (and they were crewmates wink wink). Dread has no clue

ok thats all i needed to say, hope ya like it

[malarkgirlypop]

MEDIC! Part 26 (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

Well hey gang, I have been so busy I left Emily all alone. But got some inspo and finished the chapter. I don't think the inspo was that happy but oh well whatever floats my boat apparently. Babe learns in this chapter that he is a feminist! He's so sweet! We love him! George also is a cutie, and so are Don and Emily. A bunch of cuties in this chapter, I tell ya.

Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, not hate to anyone involved.

Tag list: @next-autopsy, @panzershrike-pretz, @xxluckystrike, @bucky32557038ww2, @b00ks1ut, @footprintsinthesxnd, @paula-912, (please tell me if I missed you seriously)

I buried my face into Don’s chest as the light streamed through the cracks in the curtain. I hadn’t felt more rested in years. His arms held me close all night, shooing away all the monsters that lurked in the corners of my mind. For once I had dreamt, and it had been a pleasant dream. Not that I can remember exactly what happened, but the anxiety that normally tightened in my chest when I woke wasn’t there. Don wriggled under me, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. His fingers pulled me gently to look up at him. I smiled sleepily at him, my eyes still half closed.

“How did you sleep?” Don asked, looking down at me. 

“Like a baby!” I couldn’t help the giddy laugh that fell from my lips. My stomach doing somersaults. This had been the first time we shared a bed. Sure, we slept in close quarters in Bastogne, but in a hole with two other men in the freezing cold. So it was quite different to share a warm bed under a roof, with just the two of us. 

I grinned up at him, feeling so loved. I couldn’t stop smiling. Don’s eye glanced down at his wrist, where the watch sat on his arm. 

“SHIT!” He blurted sitting up, causing me to fall off his chest and onto the bed. I face planted into the mattress groaning. 

“What?” I asked annoyed, as he flung himself out of the bed, throwing the covers off me in the process. 

“We are moving out today! We are moving out now!” He said as he hastily got dressed. My eyes widened, looking at my own watch, fuck we were going to be left behind if we didn’t get a move on. Don pulled on his pants hopping around the room, one leg in and one out. He hopped on one foot trying to jam his leg into the pant hole. He wobbled around trying to keep his balance. I watched him fall in slow motion, his foot caught in the hole, as he tumbled to the ground. I burst out in giggles, the image of him falling replaying in my head. The more I thought about it the harder I laughed. 

“Em, stop laughing and get dressed!” He hurried me, but I could barely breathe, let alone get out of bed and get dressed. He joined in, unable to suppress his own laughter. 

“I’m crying!” I said in a high pitched voice through tears of laughter. I moved from off the bed still laughing as I got dressed, having to stop when the giggles became too much. I took a deep breath finally composing myself. I packed my things away into my bag, and pulled on my shoes. 

“I’m gonna grab my bag. Save me a seat.” Don said, placing a kiss on my forehead, before leaving out the door. I nodded as he left. 

I made my way onto the street, the men getting into the trucks. I spotted Lieb and the others loading into the truck. I moved faster towards them, Lieb saw me giving me a wave and pointing at the bench beside him. 

“IT’S MY DOG! SHE’S TAKING MY DOG!” I looked over my shoulder in fright from the loud voice that boomed over the noise. My eyes fell onto Lew, as he harshly threw his helmet to the floor while he yelled. I watched Winters and Lip in front of him looking sorry for the man. I didn't get to wonder about what that was about, as Christenson walked past me, his hand landing on my shoulder pulling me from my focus on Lew. 

“Let’s go Em!” He yelled, giving me a firm pat. I nodded, heading in the direction of the trucks. 

Lieb offered me his hand pulling me up into the bed of the vehicle. I sat down beside him and Web, saving a space for Don. He arrived shortly after, climbing into the back and sitting down beside me. I heard the men talking amongst themselves. 

“Sarge, what do you have in here? Germans?” Garcia said, heaving Bull’s rucksack into the truck.

“Hey, Perconte. You got a lighter?” I heard Ron’s voice carry over the rest of the noise. I glanced over, seeing him standing with a cigarette hanging off his lip. 

“No, sir. I don’t smoke.” Perconte told the Captain. I tilted my head, I know he doesn’t smoke but he does in fact have a lighter. It clicked, Perconte and Ron were very similar. As everyone knew Ron was very sticky-fingered, taking whatever he wanted without a care. But over time I had noticed that Frank was the same, however only a few people had picked up on his stealing habits. He quietly collected many things, watches, medical supplies, scissors, anything really. You would never see him take anything though, he was very sneaky in his ways. Then you would go through his things and find an accumulation of nicknacks. George told me when they first landed on D-Day that Frank went around collecting all of the watches off the dead German soldiers. By the end of the week both of his forearms were ticking so loudly George could hear it in his sleep.  

It made sense that Frank was reluctant to give up his trusty lighter to the Captain who was notorious for not giving things back.    

“Where are we headed?” Frank asked.

“We’re going to the Alps. Let me see that lighter.” Ron demanded casually, knowing that Frank did have a light.

Frank sighed, reaching down into his pocket, pulling out the lighter and handing it to Ron. 

“The Alps?” He asked again. I didn’t know where we were supposed to be going, but by the sounds of it, the men hadn’t been told the same thing. 

“Yeah.” Ron confirmed, lighting his smoke. 

“That near Berlin, sir?” Bull asked from beside him. 

“No.” Ron replied. 

“That’s in Bavaria.” Webster said from behind the Captain. I couldn’t help but chuckle, he just always looked so lost. “The birthplace of National Socialism.” Webster informed the men who didn’t seem to care for the piece of trivia he had blurted at them. 

“So that mean no drop into Berlin?” Luz asked Speirs, throwing the baseball he had into his glove on the other hand. We were supposed to be dropping into Berlin? Because I don’t know if I would’ve made it, not being parachute trained and all. Would I have been left behind? 

“No drop into Berlin. Hitler ordered the Waffen SS to hole up in the mountains and repel all invaders.” Ron raised his voice louder for all the men around to hear him. “He wants them to start a guerrilla war.” Ron told them men as he puffed on his cigarette.               

“Invaders.” Bull grinned. “Damn, I like the sound of that.” He strode off, probably in search of his own platoon. George climbed into our truck as well. Perco stood hanging off the framing, eyeing up the Captain. 

“They’ll die, the last man trying.” Ron said. He turned, walking away. 

“Sir.” Perco called him. 

“What?” He asked, swinging back around to face Frank.

“My lighter.” Perco said, extending his hand. He knew all too well that if he let Speirs get away with it now he would never see it again.

Speirs did a double take of the lighter he had in his grasp. Not looking all too keen on giving it back. Perco stood his ground, hand still out stretched. 

“All right. Nice lighter.” Speirs said, begrudgingly throwing Frank back his possession.

I settled back into my seat, talking with Don who sat beside me as we set off again. We fell into easy conversation with each other and the men who sat close by. 

George and Perco told Don how they snuck back to the barn we had been to previously to get more eggs. I laughed loudly saying that George was probably trying his luck again with the German woman since I wasn’t there to drag him away. He denied it adamantly, but from the twinkle in his eye I knew I was right. 

The men started singing loudly, they were all very excitable about going to the new destination. It was starting to feel like this was all almost over and hopes were getting high again. There was more joy, less sadness in the eyes of the men. We weren’t cold, or hungry. No one was dying, we weren’t being blown to pieces by Kraut artillery. We had showers and beds, roofs over our heads.

“He ain’t gonna jump no more!” The men bellowed as we bounced along in the truck. “Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die. Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die. Gory, gory what a hell of a way to die. He ain’t gonna jump no more.” I laughed as Don sang in my face, a bright smile on his lips. I was being nudged by George from across the truck, he was as usual egging me on to sing. 

“Christ was strapped around his neck, connectors cracked his dome. Suspension lines were tied around his skinny bones. The canopy became his shroud, he hurtled to the ground, and he ain’t gonna jump no more.” I made a face, listening to the lyrics. It was such a happy tune but the lyrics were about a man hurtling to his death from the plane. 

“Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die. Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die. Gory, gory what a hell of a way to die. He ain’t gonna jump no more.” I joined in on the chorus, the men seemingly very pleased at my participation as George hooted and hollered. 

“He hit the ground, the sound was ‘SPLAT’, his blood went spurting high. His comrades, they were heard to say, ‘A hell of a way to die!’ He lay there, rolling ‘round in the welter of his gore, he ain’t gonna jump no more.” My eyes widened as I listened, jesus why is this song so violent? 

The men sung the whole song, with great enthusiasm. I on the other hand was a bit traumatised by the lyrics. 

“Hey Em!” George yelled over the rumble of the engine, I nodded leaning in further to hear him speak. “What does ‘pop that pussy’ mean?” I pulled back to look at him, to ensure I had heard him correctly. 

“I’m sorry?” I said shocked. 

“The other day, the song you sang, you said ‘pop your pussy’.” George asked, eyes wide like a small school boy. 

“Oh!” I remembered, finally putting together the pieces of what the hell he was talking about. It all finally hit me. I keeled over in fits of giggles. He had told O’Keefe that he would understand when he was older, but in reality George didn’t actually know. 

“Oh George!” I laughed, patting him on the shoulder. “Sweet innocent George.” I teased, pinching his cheek. 

“I am not innocent, I’ll have you know.” He exclaimed, shooing away my hand from his face. I laughed harder. 

“What do you think it means?” I asked, seeing if he had any inkling at all as to what it meant. 

“Well I know that pussy is in relation to the.” He paused a blush rising to his face. “Well you know the-” He motioned with his head down my crotch. “You know!” 

“Ok yes I know what you mean, continue.” I wanted him to stop jerking his head towards my privates. 

“But I don’t know what ‘pop that’ means.” George confessed. I bit my lip trying to suppress my laugh, why did he look so serious about this? 

“Ok so ‘pop that pussy’, just means to have sex. But I think it’s like a certain position.” I said, trying to remember what it actually meant. George nodded along. “I think it’s from behind.” I raised my eyebrows sending him a joking wink. There was a pause as we looked at each other before we both burst out laughing. 

“George, why did I have to explain that to you!” I complained while we giggled. 

“Well you sang it!” He explained throwing the blame back onto me. 

“You egged me on!” I threw it right back at him. 

“Yeah I just wanted to hear you sing!” He protested. I stopped straightening. 

“Why?” I asked. 

“You’re a good singer, I like listening to you.” He confessed. I blushed, pushing him gently.

“Stop, you’re so cute.” I said, hiding my face in my hands.

“I only heard you that one time, and now I want more!” George said. 

“Stop it!” I giggle, hitting him. 

“No, I don’t sing. Not for people. I just sing in the shower.” I shook my head. 

My mum always tried to get me to perform for people but I always got the worst stage fright. I think she was just so proud of me and wanted everyone to see me shine, but I hated being the centre of attention. She also begged me to sing at her funeral but I was barely functioning so I didn’t sing as she asked. I feel so guilty about it now. She always begged me to sing, much like George and I always said no. I think she would’ve asked me to sing for her even if I was terrible. 

“You would sing for me, right?” George asked, my heart felt heavy in the moment. The interaction reminded me so much of my mother. I guess this was my opportunity to take back my guilt. 

“I would sing for you anytime, George.” I lent my head on his shoulder, taking his hand in mine. His arm swung around my back pulling me in. 

“Ah, I knew you would.” He said, giving me a tight squeeze.     

My butt ached from the hard seats and bumpy ride. I was so bored, we had been driving for ages. Lieb had given me some of his gum to chew since I was starting to feel motion sick. Least the scenery was nice to look at, I pointed out every animal I saw like I was five again. 

“Oh cows!” I yelled pointing to the field we were passing. “Say hi to the cows, Don.” I waved over at them. “Hi cows.” All he did was laugh at me. 

“When are we going to be there!” I sighed defeated. I needed to pee, but we hadn’t stopped in ages, and it was hot sitting in the sun. I was so tired and just wanted to get off the truck to stretch my legs. 

“I’m sure we will be there soon.” Don said, resting his head on my shoulder. 

“Hey Don?” I asked, dipping my head down so he could hear me better. He hummed in response. 

“What makes you happy?” I let the question fall from my lips. I didn’t mean for it to be so deep, but it came out before I could stop it. 

“That’s a good question.” He said sitting up and facing me. 

“My family, my friends, you. You make me very happy. Sunny days. Pancakes in the morning. Going on walks. Kissing you. The sounds of birds chirping. Making you laugh. Your happiness. What else makes me happy?” He thought out loud. I couldn’t help the blush that rose to my cheeks. The flutter in my chest only grew faster, from all his sweet words. 

“Waking up with you in my arms, but that’s more than happiness. It’s love. You make me love everything. I don’t know how, but the days seem brighter, everything seems sweeter. The colours all seem so vivid. You just seem to make everything better, more brilliant.” I was grinning now like a mad woman, my face hurt from how hard I was smiling. Don moved forward, placing a kiss to my cheek. I just about swooned off the truck. 

“Hey love-birds, knock it off will you, you’re making me sick.” Lieb kicked at us from across the truck. I poked my tongue out at him in response. The other men joined in around us throwing out complaints. But all with smiles on their faces.   

I stood out by the trucks as they cleared the buildings. I felt torn in my feelings. I hated that we had to kick them out onto the street, but what if they supported Hitler’s views I didn’t feel too bad. I watched the families exit the building looking around for their next move, they sent glares in my direction. I lent against the truck waiting for the men to tell me it was clear to go inside. A family passed by me, the parents spitting at my feet. I looked at them, disgust clear on my face. The mother of the family glared back, I watched as she noticed that I wasn’t a male, her face contorting into a look of determination. The woman was quick, darting over to me, I didn’t even get a chance to react as she took me by the collar of my shirt. 

“Du bist keine gute Schlampe!” She cursed in my face, I didn’t need to know German to figure out she wasn’t saying anything nice. “Du solltest verdammt noch mal sterben!”

“Hey, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Babe shouted as he marched closer. The woman loosened her grip, but was still staring me down. She spat in my face, I flinched back, recoiling from her. Babe didn’t even have time to grab her before she scurried away. I wiped her spit from my cheek feeling repulsed by her actions. 

“What was that all about?” Babe asked, bending down slightly to make sure I was ok. I shook my head, confused myself. Did she think because I was a female that she could accost me so easily? 

“I have no idea. Is the building cleared?” I asked just wanting to go inside and wash my face. Babe nodded. He led the way inside. 

I had asked Babe not to say anything about the situation he had witnessed, he had complained, saying the woman needed to be dealt with. 

“Babe we are only staying the night, we took their houses from them, in an aggressive manner. Other than spitting on me she didn’t really do any damage. It’s fine, just leave it.” I tried to calm down the red head, as he frantically paced back and forth in the small room. He had been so wound up, looking ready for a fight. He had threatened before to go and find her and bring her to Speirs.  

“What about we go play some cards, I think Luz and Tab said they were going to play.” But it was no use. He was so angry for me. I think he was even angrier because I wasn’t. It was terrible to say but as a woman, in any time, it was something I was used to. We are always taught to be pleasant and polite. It was unbecoming to be overly emotional. It was normal to be harassed and assaulted, and just to be ok with it. It was normal, something we got used to. It made me so sad to think about the percentage of women who were assaulted every year, and that there were no repercussions for the assailant. I didn’t even realise it before but I had belittled the things she did to me. She only spat in my face, it could’ve been worse, I’m not physically injured so I’m fine. But I was still assaulted, she had manhandled me, and then spat in my face. I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. I wasn’t angry. I was sad.

“Babe.” I uttered softly, he stopped his pacing noticing the change in my tone. 

“Let’s just go.” I had given up. 

“But-” Babe started. I shook my head softly, my brows knitting together. 

“It’s done. I don’t want to think about it anymore.” My voice said softly, it didn’t even sound like my own voice. He nodded, sighing. 

“Oh, Babe, it’s ok.” I tried to reassure him, taking his hand in mine. 

“But it isn’t.” Babe countered. 

“No you’re right. It isn’t, but I’m used to it.” I gave him a small sad smile. I almost burst into tears seeing the realisation wash over his features. As if everything clicked into place for him. He understood what I meant, and what that meant for me. That he couldn’t protect me, not always, as much as he wanted too.

“Let’s go.” I whispered gently tugging at his hand still clasped in mine. He nodded gently, following behind me.

------------------------------------

Chapter 27

[strawbubbysugar]

Hey Bubby! Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering how you feel about people getting inspired off of your characters and making their own? Just wanting to make sure! (I don't mean an obvious copy, just certain elements)

I suppose that depends! I dont own any design elements when you take them out of context, and since a lot of my own ocs are very inspired by other characters, I couldnt possibly say no! Though I do get a bit nervous. I personally feel theres a difference between getting inspo from a character in media (things that have hundreds of thousands of viewers) and inspo from someone's oc (Someone's own personal baby).

Obvi all characters in media start as someone's baby but to me it feels like..

Lets use So(u)l as an example

Right now, if someone wanted to make a very similar character to Hello inspired by him, I wouldnt mind that. Id be happy you were inspired!! But id also probably feel a bit upset. Sort of like someone copying your homework, you know? But once So(u)l is officially released in full, It would be a lot different! Id be so happy someone was inspired, and since my work is published and solidified in media, it would feel more like inspiration rather than a replication of my work

Does that make sense?? QvQ I dont want to come off as pushy or overly protective of my ocs!! Again, I dont claim to own any design elements out of the context of the character itself!

[monodramatic-cannibal]

Renegade au world information

All this info is subject to change.

This is just some info on undertale (Sans) au I've been working on. I don't mind questions about the world, but bear with me I'm not that good at world building lmaoo. So if things don't make sense just let me know and I will try to fix it or explain it lol.

This au is also self indulguent, orignally I was going to keep it to myself, but since I've made a ut blog, may as well share the utau content I'm making since I don't know how much of my ut art is gonna be the renegade au.

Also Characters won't be following their canon personalities, there will be a lot of fandom interpritations and my own head canons.

Also a bit of info on the name, originally the au was going to be something different (plot/world wise) its originally name was "Reject/|Renegade", which then got shortened to Renedage. Then I changed the plot/world and since I was so used to calling it the Renegade au I never changed the name. So the name might not make sense for this world, but thats why lol.

Asks about the world/characters will be open, or just doodle ideas/requests for them too. I'd also love to hear peoples thoughts/interpretations on this au lol.

Also when sending asks for the characters: The asks will be like voices that can't directly/physically interact with characters. (Thought maybe on special occasions I may let askers appear as animals or something else to interact physically with characters) If your going to send in an ask make sure to specify that its for the Renegade au somewhere in the ask and also make sure to specify which character the ask is for.

(there's also sans shippings in this au, so if thats not something you like this au may not be for you.)

More info under the cut

World inspo (just so u know when I reference things in me trying to explain my aus setting): -Obviously undertale and all of its au's is an inspo for me lol -Stray (Cat game), For the world and its environments. As well as the horror inspo. -The artist Simon Stålenhag (https://www.instagram.com/simon_stalenhag/), Specifically their work on the artbooks “The eclectic state”, “The tales from the loop” and “The Labyrinth”. The world design is amazing and a huge inspo. (the inspo for me comes from the world not so much the story) -The game Wuthering Waves, specifically it’s world design. -Also some inspo came from me hearing about the place Kowloon city. (There's more inspo, but I'll save that unless I'm asked lmaoo)

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World/au takes place on the surface. The tree of emotions is in this world (tree from Dream and Nightmare's story).

Where it takes place:

The story also takes place in a world sort of like our own, in terms of there's a ton of wars of counties going on, and most likely a lot of conflict with monsters/humans as well. Leading to the incident which put the world into an apocalypse, which the au takes place a little bit after that situation, so weaker buildings are starting to crumble, and some plant life is starting to over grow in places.

The tree of emotions is also in this world, due to it being around for a long time (it’s older than Dream/Nightmare) its roots are deep, it’s a giant tree (It’s around the size of the giant tree in Wuthering Waves that's in the Violet Banyan area).

The tree of emotions is so in tune with the world, that if there were to be any problems with it, it can affect the world and the laws of the world. The tree still does have apples (both the golden and obsidian apples) on it, but it doesn’t look like an apple tree it looks like a mix of a weeping willow tree and wisteria tree (with both purple and yellow flowers yellow on Dream’s side, purple on Nightmare’s side). The tree on both sides also has little nooks and places for the twins to be, either it be a place in the tree to hide or sit, or places in the middle of the tree for both of them. The tree can grow and shift to fit the twin's needs.

The world has been deeply effected by the tree of emotions (see the paragraph above). When the apocalypse hit it wasn’t long before the land/environment itself was effected, things started appearing where they shouldn’t be e.g. trains in the middle of fields, or a patch of a flower field being placed into the 3rd floor of a large building. It started to affect the gravity of things as well, leaving cars suspended in the air, not really floating away but not coming down either. Roads and buildings been pulled up into the sky left floating. Glowing orbs of all colours randomly (normally its only one or two just randomly around theres never really a lot of them). Impossible machinery just placed at random (look at Simon Stålenhag art books “The eclectic state”, “The tales from the loop” and “The Labyrinth” for inspo, though the renegade world doesn’t have things nearly as drastic in them.) The rapid growth and decay of plant-life. Either plants taking a hold of buildings within a year, or whole forests dying leaving barren lands. Cracks forming in the earth revealing cave systems that weren’t there before, showing extensive environments that shouldn’t exist, like a portal to another world almost. (e.g. these environments can look like undertale underground, as the underground doesn’t exist in this world. Or can even look like other things like bioluminescent caves). Or glowing white cracks in the earth that decay the world around them turning the ground black becoming spawn points for Wraiths.

The specific area the story takes place in is a big city area, the group have made a small settlement within the higher floors of buildings that have bridges connecting them together. They've cut off most of the lower floors of the buildings to keep the Wraiths away from their living spaces. But have kept a few exits to get up and down from the buildings. They often use roofs for gardens and stuff, and fire escapes for movement around floors as well. Each character has a different mental map of both the living area and the city around. E.g. Night’s view of the city is going down all the nooks or walking along places that the average sized person cannot or using underground tunnels that he squeezed into. Where as someone like Error has a different view of the city, mainly viewing it from above, being able to use his strings to swing around to to launch himself building to building. This is to say each character has a different story when it comes to the city and their view of it. (Inspo for this is when people talk about “Kowloon city”)

The group try to give out roles to everyone, trying to cater to everyone's skills, but some people hang around without doing too much for the group, just as long as the rest of the group can rely on them when they need it then they're fine with it.

Wraiths:

The Wraiths look both human and monsters, they look like the Amalgamates (from UT), but come across as slightly more blob like, these creatures sort of look like tar. They're beings of negativity. They're often violent towards anything that isn't a Wraith, though they do tend to leave most animals alone, but do attack when they get too close. They possess a bit of magic abilities, some maybe more than others.

They can travel alone or in large groups. For people with no magic or limited magic, it's best to stay away from them.

People can't really turn into Wraiths (only the tree can turn people). But the Wraiths can spawn back after a while, often 'spawn points' will be littered amongst the land, being hot spots for Wraiths to be. Though on rare occasions the tree may turn people to Wraiths, mainly it’s when some is abusing the fact the world is in an apocalypse with no rules to do bad things, due to the build up of negative energy around them, it can cause them to get turned into a Wraith.

Wraiths aren't really that intelligent, some may have the intelligence of animals, but the most intelligent tend to have the brains of 7-year-olds. So they are capable of makings some sort of attack plans, but often lack the knowledge to fully cooperate with one another effectively. Though some rare few may have more intelligence than others.

Some Wraiths have been show to be evolving in ways, e.g. if someone specifically kills the same Wraith over and over, the Wraith may start developing features to combat that person's attack style. Some people think the Wraiths may be getting more intelligent, when in reality it may be a Wraith having a moment of clarity, as they did use to be a sentient being, they may try to do things that they used to do in life, e.g. returning to a building where they lived or worked. Wraiths magic is partly based on what they were before, either that be human or monster, and what magic capabilities they had, or could grow to have. Some Wraiths are a lot stronger than others, able to use their magic effectively.

Wraith growths are normally found around ‘spawn points’ for the Wraiths. It’s like a mold looking flesh that covers the ground and buildings (think of the sort of things in Stray ((the cat game))). Though it’s started to spread out past the spawn points. The ‘mold’ itself isn’t much of a threat, but Wraiths camp out in areas that have these Wraith growths covering them. Which can lead to dangerous situations if effort isn’t taken to make sure the growth doesn't spread any further.

Cause of apocalypse:

The tree of emotions is in this world (tree from Dream and Nm's story), and is the cause of the apocalypse. Due to all the negativity in the world, the tree without the input from its guardians (Nm and Dream) decided to cause a 'world reset'. The tree corrupted half of the population in the world (think of the Thanos snap but instead of disappearing it turns people to Wraiths). Due to all the negative emotions, the tree saw it best fit to start completely over in terms of the world's creatures that are capable of emotions. Most of the beings left alive blamed Nightmare for what happened, thinking this came from his side of the tree. When in reality it was a sort of man made issue that a higher being decided to sort out. The tree until it sees more of a balance of the negative/positive emotions will continue to keep the Wraiths around, either that means society finding a way of living in this world peacefully or everyone dies out from the Wraiths. Due to the build up of negative energy people would have thought Night would have gotten more powerful, but instead his power manifested in an alter self which looks a lot like the Wraiths but less drippy goo like, though he still looks like tar and such.

Powers/Magic:

In this au a lot of the powers/magic is a lot more toned down. Monsters are closer to humans in terms of the fact they don’t have a lot of magic. Monsters magic has dulled over time with being on the surface with humans, leading to monsters having more convenient powers that might help in day to day life, rather than having combat magic. Some monsters still have combat magic and some monsters may be born with more magic than others. Humans can also learn magic due to spending a lot of time with the monsters. But humans don’t have a lot of magic, and can only do basic things, sort of like the monsters of the modern-day.

When talking about the Skele's: When it comes to teleporting they can only do it very small distances, normally the length of a bus, but a few can train themselves to teleport a little bit further than that. They can also only teleport to places they’ve either already stood or straight ahead (almost like a dash when they do it ahead of themselves) (they can’t teleport through walls unless they’ve already been on the other side)

Being able to summon bones is a lot more limited in this au compared to the game. (They can still summon quite a lot of them, but they can’t spam it compared to the games).

They still have gaster blasters but they’re a lot smaller. A few may have slightly bigger gaster blasters, but normally they’re the side of a large dog.

They’re able to assign weapons to themselves, which allows them to summon/dismiss their weapons at will, they can have up to 4 weapons they can summon. (Their magic doesn’t count towards their weapons, it’s more of a physical weapon, such as Horror’s axe)

Some of them can have specific abilities that only they (or a few others) can use. E.g. Ink being able to use paint as his magic/power ability, or Error and his strings.

Original team/group and what order people joined it after that:

Og group: -Ink -Blue -Outer -Sci

What order the rest joined the group (same point = joined at the same time): -Horror / Error (Joined around 3 weeks into the apocalypse) -Fell (Joined just over a month) -Dream / Nightmare (Joined 3 months into the apocalypse) -Dust / Killer (Joined 4 and a half months into the apocalypse) -Lust (Joined 6 months into the apocalypse) -Geno / Echo / Edge (Joined 7 and a half months into the apocalypse) -Cross (Joined 9 months into the apocalypse) -Death (? didn't exactly join, followed Geno) -Fresh (? didn't exactly join, appeared shortly after Lust joined)

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Ships that are in this Au: (will be adding more ships as it goes along)(also even thou I say these ships are in here, feel free to ship what you want lol)

-Crossmare (Nightmare X Cross) (Both Night and Mare are apart of this)

-Afterdeath (Geno X Reaper)

-Horrorlust (? idk what it's called) (Horror X Lust)

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As mentioned a lot of this is subject to change. So Will be adding to this as I go along. I will try to let people know as I update this and whats changed so people don't have to read through all of it again. I'm looking to improve the world building, so if you have any suggestions I'm open to listen lol.

Some extra stuff :D :

When I talk about things like "living area" it means the collections of buildings/etc that the group is living in. And when I call something someones "room" it actually means a whole apartment, or in the case of Echo's (Radio room) and Error's (Storage room) rooms its an office floor that has been cleared out.

playlist I made with a few inspo videos for renegade, has world building shit, trailers, and music. Will be adding to this whenever I can be assed too.

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLsOp1NNY64Q34UJs-FRLTbqoqhLymApfI&si=VN3GkrjQyF8yawOr

Some more info on the character designs

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Links to character refs:

Nightmare (Night and Mare's ref)

Dream

Cross

Blue

Ink

Dust

Horror

Killer

Error

Lust

Fell/Edge

Geno

Outer

Sci

Reaper/Death

Fresh

Gans/Echo

Chief

(The refs posted in bulk with no info)

Refs 1

Refs 2

---------

Credits:

Nightmare/Dream belong to Jokublog Cross belongs to Jakei95 Blue (underswap!Sans) belongs to P0pcornPr1nce Ink belongs to Myebi/comyet Dust (Dusttale!Sans?) belongs to ask-dusttale Horror (Horrortale!Sans) belongs to sour-apple-studios Killer belongs to rahafwabas Error/Fresh/Geno belong to loverofpiggies Lust (Lusttale!Sans) belongs to NSFWShamecave Fell (Underfell!Sans) belongs to underfell/Fella/Vic (???) Outer (Outertale!Sans) belongs to 2mi127 Sci belongs to (???) Reaper (Reapertale!Sans?) belongs to renrink Gans (Echotale!Sans?) belongs to Yoralim (???) Chief (Swapfell Purple) belongs to (???) (Let me know if I need to change any of these, cuz a few I was unsure about)

[twelvegate-blog]

Season 1 Promo Poster Analysis:

Mike:

"Are we really going to the place Will went missing?"

*spoiler alert*: Mike never says this line. At all. He says this:

Dustin is actually the one who says a line most similar to what is on Mike's promo poster.

Lucas:

"Did anyone bring a weapon?"

Lucas never says this line, but Dustin ends up saying something similar when they look for Will after he goes missing.

The same scene where they meet "weapon" number 1 (011) of 2 (012). Later in S1, Mike refers to El as a weapon after arguing with Lucas over who can join the party. (It's giving "one kid [nuclear bomb] goes missing, the other kid [nuclear bomb] runs wild?" and "that doll is pregnant with an explosive" if you ask me.)

Dustin:

“Do you think we should turn back?”

Dustin actually ends up saying this line twice. Once, before they enter the woods where Will went missing, and once right before they meet El.

Joyce:

"You think I don't know my own son's voice?"

This line has interesting phrasing because Joyce tells Hopper a similar version of this in the show. This also implies that Joyce heard Will talking while trying to contact her over the phone.

But in the show, we get this line, which is a line that comes up fairly often - almost as if breathing is a hint to solving a larger recurring theme in the show.

They make it a point to mention both Joyce's son - Will - and Hopper's daughter - "Sarah" and (as of S2) his daughter, El. As Jonathan looks awkwardly between his stepdad and his mom as they argue about his twin siblings and their disappearance. And before this interaction, Joyce says "I know it was his breathing," to Jonathan TWICE. This all ties back to Terry saying "She wasn't breathing!" about Jane, but I'll get to that in another post.

Hopper:

"You ever feel cursed?"

Now. . . Hopper's line is possibly the only line that is word-for-word repeated in the show. Everyone else ended up getting their phrases broken down into segments - or that character actually never said that phrase at all (Lucas and his mention of bringing weapons).

Hopper says this line to Sandra, a woman that we only see once in the show. And I can't help but think this extra was cast as a nod to Joyce. My mind jumped straight to Sandy in Grease when I found the name of her character, but that's also because I know they used some movie inspo for S4.

For Hopper, the feeling of being cursed is another recurring theme for the show. And as TFS has shown us, this is an important theme In Hopper's life.

Jonathan:

“What’s wrong with just observing people rather than talking to them?”

Now, I could only find this dialogue in a scene between Jonathan and Nancy when they are in the dark room developing photos.

Nancy says "Talk to them." in this scene.

Side note: the dark room lighting made me think of Vecna's mindscape in s4, so take that as you will.

Nancy:

"You're a cliché, you realize that?"

Nancy says this line to Steve while at his pool party in Season 1. Now, I wasn't sure if this was said to Steve or Jonathan before searching for the quote itself in the show. I'm not quite sure what to make of Nancy's quote here for analysis's sake, but in the context of season 1, it works well.

Arguably, the next three are the most important (and interesting) lines to analyze.

Brenner:

"Could you repeat that back to me like we used to with nursery rhymes?"

Brenner says this line to El in a flashback in season 1. These flashbacks are some of the only memories we see from El's perspective, there are points in S2 - S4 where we see memories from El's perspective again (being the flashbacks in S2 of El living with Hopper in the cabin, and the flashbacks that occur prior to El joining Owens for the NINA project.) We don't know if the memories Terry shows El are true, the same goes for the memories/recordings/tapes that El is shown in the NINA deprivation tank.

Now, Erika pointed out that in S2, Kali mentions something about the nursery rhyme "Old McDonald Had a Farm". Some of the decor in the Byers house as of S1 includes chickens (there is a rooster in Joyce's kitchen), and as of S4, Joyce has cow gloves on. Jo pointed out that in some cultures, cows are seen as a sign of fertility or motherhood. Interestingly enough, cows and deer are some of the few land mammals able to give birth to fraternal twins (what Will and El would be if it turns out our crazy theory is correct).

I'll probably make a post about all of that later as well, but it is interesting to me that Brenner mentions nursery rhymes. El would have never experienced nursery rhymes with her mother or father as a toddler if she had been stuck in the lab. I've taken this as a time loop hint, to be honest.

El:

"The bad people can't hurt me - promise?"

El never actually says this line. (I'm sensing a theme here. . .)

El never says this line, but Mike kind of does?

He asks El if the bad people want to hurt her, but El is the one who says "Promise." after the scene where she is crying in Mike's closet.

Will:

"What's the worst that could happen?"

This one has driven me insane because Will NEVER says this line. He doesn't even say it in S4, which leads me to believe that we might see something about this line in Season 5. This line definitely made me think of The First Shadow, it made me think of the stage play because of the context we now have surrounding Henry and how he came to be involved with Dimension X. This line, to me, sounds like a line a kid would say to a friend or a sibling before voluntarily going into the dark and haunted woods before being lost forever.

When I first read this line, I thought of the possibility of Will and El being in the lab together and Will saying this to his sister before escaping the lab. . . but again, I'm not sure what to make of it. I think it is important to note that Will's outfit is not the outfit that he disappears in, whereas most of the other character's outfits fit the scene in which the line is being said.

Either way, I'm interested to see if this line pops up in S5 at some point.

[bonesandthebees]

i had a question regarding your boundries (ik this sounds bad but im /gen promise)

okay so you've mentioned before you're alright with taking inspiration from your fics, and people could write fanfics of your fanfics (giving proper credits), but how far does this stretch? what do you consider copying and when does it start just being inspiration?

for example, me and my friend have been obsessing over clinic for the last year, and at one point a simple "what power do you think i would have?" made us fall down the rabbit hole and now we have like 20+ ocs all with their own powers and backstories in clinic au. we were wondering if we could publish information about our version of the story somewhere on tumblr or ao3 if we gave you credits for the original au?

our version follows a part of the canon clinic plot, and follows the same logic. it also has the original characters in it, though the main focus is on two of our ocs rather than tommy.

we didn't start writing anything yet other than bits and pieces, and wanted to ask before we did any actual writing.

these days I'm very lax about most of my boundaries with inspo especially regarding clinic. as long as you're not actually copy and pasting any original text from my fic then I don't mind at all. but I'm serious about not copy and pasting my text. even if it's something simple like a building description you have to rewrite it in your own words.

besides that, just make sure to give me proper credit if you post it anywhere! note where you got the world/story from and if possible link back to my original fic, thank you :)

[tigerarainbowra-blog]

If you don't mind me asking, did you have any specific inspirations/ideas/themes or whatever you were going for when you did that one veldigun!Alex design of yours? I've personally been doing a semi-deep dive into some character design elements and inspo for my own veldi-Alex design for a thing I wanna work on and I can't stop obsessing over yours (I say this normally and positively/affectionately, it's really fucking cool). I really like the fact that you went with a more corpsy vibe for their face, at the time you posted it I hadn't recalled anyone using that idea for it and something about it is both very unique and cool to me personally. As well as the fact that you turned their long locks into veldi-tentacles rather than keeping it as actual hair, a cool take.

(Apologies if this feels rambly lmao, TLDR I just find your veldi-design cool as shit and was a tad curious if you had any of your own thoughts on it if you'd be willing to share. Also hope you have a good time of day <3)

Hii this is late (I literally only saw this JUST NOW because the fun enveloppe that notifies you of asks is gone and the notifications overall are many and small and I miss some easily >.>) but thank you and thank for the ask .O.

I'm trying to roughly remember the process, was a lil while ago now, I think basically i thought "ok so the theme here is person with long hair gets veldified" so i thought first, what are the effects of being veldified, which often involves you getting thinner and deformed. Then the hair, I assume (as of now) that veldiguns don't have hair or fur, so the hair would clump together into tentacles. I kept the blue eyes because only true veldiguns who have a form of contact with SIX have yellow eyes (old lore tho but i still think it's cool). And then I thought "hey looks like Medusa" so i made the second sketch that makes them look like so.

I think that's it hope that answers your question @doodle-girl !

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Cerise, what a woman. I’d love to give you the image my mind inevitably created for her. I feel like she was one of those teens who carried so much trauma from her childhood, and was so so full of rage and she felt like she was destined for more, she was ashamed of being so desperate for money and luxury while having practically nothing. Leather jackets, cigarettes and small theft. I feel like she was one of those girls that wanted to have a motorbike but decided a car (a good car) would be more useful when she had big money —even though now she has a few cars and a few bikes. I also think she legally may have changed her name to Cerise, just because she wanted to be another person, she wanted to leave behind the girl she was to focus on the woman she is, no particular reason for that name, just because it’s elegant and it means cherry —a delicious fruit with a beautiful color, sexy, pretentious, vain. I also see her as a red head, probably as a part of that change she dyed her hair and got a perfectly made blowout. I don’t really have a reason for this one but maybe she wanted to leave everything behind so she completely changed her physical appearance, maybe some natural plastic surgery, training, to fit that image she had of an elegant woman. I see her wearing elegant outfits even to go to the grocery store to buy some bread and vegetables. Always a good nude (lily rose depp like) or red lipstick combo and a skin care and shower routine that lasts an hour every morning, just because. Lashes, eyebrows and nails always perfectly done. But internally, she still feels like she wants more, she deserves more, she’s ambitious, has little morals and maybe also is very cold and lacks empathy in some situations. She has lived many lives and will live as many as she had to, as a good survivor, that doesn’t mean she isn’t scared, but she will not hesitate to do anything if that ensures her own survival.

Honestly i’d love if you could give me some outfit inspo because i’d love to try and draw her, maybe i could include soap too. What do you think? Was i accurate? Please correct me if you think anything I said was wrong. I adore your writing, what a blessing to be able to read you every time. This story will stay with me, it destroyed the inspo block I’ve had for months. Thank you x.

AHH - this is so amazing, I love it. Some outfit inspo will be under the cut but I totally want to discuss characterization too because I love what you've brought up. And, omg, 100% - absolutely you can try to draw Cerise and Soap, I'm frothing at the mouth for them already.

Okay, characterization first (ultimately it's up to every reader how they characterize her, so don't take anything I say as law by any means, lol, but these are my own thoughts for her)! I agree with most of what you said! Cerise is totally burdened by her childhood and the trauma that follows it; she even explains that with her first encounter with pickpocketing her wrist literally got snapped back in two places.

She was never wealthy - never had money for anything to buy simply for the want to have it. She would see people with everything in the palm of their hand and become incredibly jealous/bitter at the fact that nothing she did would ever make any difference unless it was drastic.

Cerise 100% always keeps up appearances, she never wants to be perceived as anything other than beautiful or desirable, even if, deep down, she's utterly terrified that someone would get to know her on a personal level. She always flirts and talks so big about physical intimacy, but I think that it scares her just as much. Anything that can get a person close to her is like a threat and a danger to the empire she's built.

Ultimately, Cerise is a character who likes being alone because it's all that makes her feel safe, even if she's incredibly lonely. She openly admits she's vain and prideful, but I believe it stems from her own insecurities - she's a total dichotomy and a hypocrite of her own belief system.

She's prideful = she constantly needs herself to become better/do better

She's vain = she hates looking at herself in the mirror but still constantly does it

She's selfish = she openly talks about helping a man's wife when she required medical care

She's such a compelling character to me because she's utterly broken down and traumatized and she doesn't even realize it. She goes on about what she wants and deserves when the only thing she wants is to be loved and cared for like a human being. She's been so used in her life that everything has become a game of get-or-be-got.

Cerise is genuinely one of my favorite named reader-inserts I've ever created - it was so much fun writing her.

Okay, okay, ramble over - onto some inspo!!

I mentioned that Oxblood was her signature color in the fic, so just imagine these in that shade/hue/etc. Disregard skin color as well, this is just about the outfits!

I think these would fit what I had in mind - simple, elegant, but still has some personality to it!

If people envisioned something more out there/eye drawing we have these dresses-

Personally, I very much like the first of the eye-catching dresses, Cerise is a woman who likes a little flare - the sleeves are lovely and I like the corset add-on.

For jewelry, it's very much high-mass, Cerise was mentioned already wearing necklaces, earrings, etc. Many of which had gems, rocks, and fine metals. I'll leave that up to people's personal preference!

But I think that mostly covers Cerise, for Johnny I really just thought up a normal 3-piece suit except for the fact that he barely fit into it, lol.

But thank you so much for sending this in! It was so lovely. If you do end up drawing them, I would love to see it - I'm sure it'll be amazing!!