#I thought of 2 for this concept and this was one of them!

[literallys-illiteracy]

Trans Allegories in Lobotomy Corporation

Part 0.5 in a series that i'm making going over the archetypes, themes, and interpretable meanings of all the abnormalities in this game, before the next, and then finally in Limbus.

Cut is for further explainations

First Tier: Trans Allegory 100%

It is important to note that there is no strict defining line on what a trans allegory is, which I also have a project working on to describe my theory, but in the Scaffold one could theoretically understand the structure that I have.

Snow Queen:

The power of love overcoming that of cold, stagnating, uncaring evil in order to help one re-find themselves. The snow queen herself does not represent that of the allegory, it is rather Kai (Kay) and Gerda's story from the original tale that can represent this, however interlinked all the same to the queen.

King Of Greed:

Part 1, the work line:

"When The King of Greed assumes the form of an egg, you can faintly see a smiling girl inside it."

alongside the fact that her title is "king", a traditionally masculine rank.

Part 2, the actual thematic:

The concept of "greed" in this abnormality is not truly one that is borne of what one would traditionally think, rather than the desire to take for the sake of taking, it is the concept that the root of happiness is desire, and at the root of all desires is an insatiable greed within.

While desires many will go unfulfilled, they will always be the root of ones happiness, and will always remain in ones subconscious.

Snow Whites Apple:

Snow whites apple is one of being discarded and abandoned, hoping to rot (similar to another teleporting, hallway damaging, plant based Waw in this same tier), who, after time passed, realised that the life she had seen come to fruition for Snow White was not the life that would come forth for her, so she leaves to go on her own journey, to find herself.

The apple, realising that the life they had once thought was not for them, sprouted forth, grew, and became a princess in search of a story.

Nothing There:

Egg.

Beauty and the Beast:

Change, death, a life trapped in a body that is not *you*, an endless cycle that all parties wish to part from.

Today's Shy Look:

someone in a discord server noted that this abnormality is a parallel to neurodivergence, especially ASD. Unfortunately i beat them to that analysis a few months ago.

The themes of identity, denial, and divergence all carry over to themes of trans nature, however that is not to say that Shy Look is intended to be one, it is almost certainly intended to be that of ASD.

That being said, kill the author with your own bare hands, the autonomous psyche that exists in humanities collective contains these archetypes of identity and denial, and integrally they are linked to these conscious perceptions we have of them — Inseparably these ideals are linked to conscious perceptions, though borne from the unconscious mind, and forth from this there is no way to remove change from identity, to remove denial from the 'self', to differentiate one's societal differences and strife to that of another. We are all human, we all share in this human collective, these unconscious symbols are not defined by a singular perspective, interpret things as you wish. If you disagree with my analyses, by all means, slay me by your own hands; forthcoming the 'Death of the Author' is the 'Birth of the Reader'.

Alriune:

Doll wished to be human, abandoned to the wayside, finding their own goals shattered.

Though Alriune may be interpereted very strongly as a trans allegory, which i also have a different (netzach) project related to, that is once again to the visceral humanity of these abnormalities, which i plan to touch on at a later date if a certain mutual doesn't beat me to it.

Funeral of Dead Butterflies:

Whom also has their own post on this topic. which is another 'death of the author' tangent for you to read on i guess.

The Funeral of Dead Butterflies' thematic is that of death, and hence that of rebirth, of life.

This concept is best demonstrated through a quote from Demian:

“The bird fights its way out of the egg. The egg is the world. Who would be born must first destroy a world. The bird flies to God. That God's name is Abraxas.”

Herman Hesse, Demain

However, i also have a topic essay separated from PM somewhat regarding the nature of death as an allegory, alongside an additional essay named "Transing Death".

Notes of a Crazed Researcher:

"The final chapter ends with the phrase: “Born again.” "

Notes of a Crazed Researcher, observation level 4.

We Can Change Anything:

Don’t like how you look? Are you too fat? Too skinny? We can change that!

We Can Change Anything, Observation level 3.

Being somewhat more serious, with both the notes and this tool, though not integrally linked to that of these allegories, they are both understandably interpretable as this with reasonable argument to support them.

Tier 2: Plausible to Write as a Trans Allegory:

Burrowing Heaven:

This abnormality will come back later. Keep an eye on this one for a moment until then, hold on.

So Burrowing Heaven's gimmick is that of attention, wings, and eyesight.

It's descendant from the trope of 'gazing upon a god' often present in fictional or extant religions such as in the Lovecraft mythos (which is noted in particular due to the abnormality being described i later depictions as "wings of an elder god").

That being said, this abnormality's concept of "existing within ones perception" is interpretable as that of identity, alongside the line of "I could only bear fruit in your sight", akin to the concept of only flourishing when viewed as what or who you are.

Scorched Girl:

Abandonment, sights of a better future, disregard by society.

This abnormality only gets this lower tier due to its source material's differentiation, rather than seeking a better life for strictly herself, she sees in the fires a world of warmth, of joy. Though hope is a powerful emotion, and one that is linked to desires at a primal root neighbouring the king of greed, it is wrote here in a way that is less linked to that integral theme of identity I seek.

The following three exist in the same vein:

Queen of Hatred, Little Red Riding Hooded Mercenary, and Big and Might be Bad Wolf:

All three of these abnormalities share the same virtual story framework, one of managing your identity within a predestined story.

Queen of Hatred defines her existence upon the extant force of evil, though in opposition to it, hence her dual thematic of both love for good, and hatred for evil. Little Red, similarly, is not a being without her antithesis, without the wolf she cannot exist as an individual, without her hatred for the one which haunted her for so long.

The Might be Bad Wolf exists in a barely different stream, though still that of a predestined story, it is rather that of societal fatalism, wherein its nature as a wolf determined its future, the wolf is always the villain of the story, the wolf is meant to hunt.

The wolf is also the most trans-coded out of any of these abnormalities, its nature of being hated due to its nature alone, its lack of decision in the matter, its fate, it "will be" the Big and Bad Wolf.

The former two however share this in many ways, due to the aforementioned predetermined nature of their tale, however in both a meta, and mirrored parallel.

The Hood and Queen both define themselves on another's basis, being unable to exist without the other, leaving themselves as incomplete — In queen's hysteria we can see the repercussions of this unfold, her strands of being still loose she unweaves into a beast, into a creature that she does not *want* to be.

The Hood exists in a slightly different manner once again, as she has found herself in the wolf's hunt, though less so in this unweaved state that the Queen has.

Warm hearted Woodsman:

Desires and is denied a heart due to its nature from birth, from its creation.

Do you know what letters heart has? thats right. HRT. I rest my case.

Der Freischutz:

Loss and searching for identity, sacrifice of ones old life in order to create a new one on their own accords.

Red Shoes:

This abnormality is the literal incarnation of desire, so much so that it's EGO is the only one to actually include the word "desire".

The Firebird:

The Russian avian version of Moby Dick essentially, a bird which wishes to be perceived, wishes to be hunted like it once was, in order to regain its glowing feathers.

This bird exists in the same concept of Burrowing Heaven (you can stop keeping an eye on it now), wanted to exist in ones perception, as beautiful as it truly can be.

Plague Doctor/Whitenight:

Both Plague Doctor and Whitenight share both of their placements due to its fucktonne of different plausible interpretations, this one was extant on its own, but furthered by someone named "chaos" in a twitch chat when i first made this list.

This concept is mostly that of change, of becoming your true self, and finding those that know about and accept this self before the advent comes.

This transformation is integrally linked to Whitenight, alongside Plague Doctor, however they will get their time in the spotlight soon enough.

Mirror of Adjustment:

Changing one's self though appearing the same in the mirror, see Limbus Company canto 4 for more details.

Meat Lantern:

Appearance verses reality.

Knight of Despair:

Yet another struggle to find one's identity in a cruel world, a tale as old as time, where the knight's experiences, her cycles of despair, lead to her view of herself, her sough purpose in life, to be naught.

This purpose is then renewed through the protection and guidance of others, similar to mine, like how i attempt to guide others (in both understanding themselves, alongside subconscious themes, and media literacy), the knight attempts to guide others, and protect them from the harm that she could not protect others.

Yin/Yang:

The innate feminine and masculine traits that each holds, alongside their obvious dichotomy and wholeness in unity can be understood as one coming to understand or accept their true identity.

The reason that this is not in a higher tier is because of some psyche stuff that i don't want to get into here but i think i may have wrote about in the past.

[Censored]:

This abnormality is by design an enigma, which is its entire purpose, the concept of a hidden form, of redacted information, of a 'true form'.

Now as the river of humanity I may be a bit biased but i think that this abnormality is the peak form that one could take in a transition i think.

Tier 3: Transphobic:

Forsaken Murderer:

Medical experiments forced upon someone in order to cure an unseen disease of the mind, which removes ones identity and personhood in the process.

The above paragraph is describing what is known as "conversion therapy" which is a fucking horrendous concept that draws parallels to the forsaken murderer's story involving medical experiments forced upon someone in order to cure an unseen disease of the mind, which removes ones identity and personhood in the process.

Whitenight:

This is about people who use religion to justify their hatred of others, about people who make their anger justified through their posited god, who make their disdain, their xenophobia, into a so called 'Divine' wrath.

Plague Doctor:

[...] cure an unseen disease of the mind, which removes ones identity and personhood in the process.

(me, 3 paragraphs ago).

The plague doctor, sharing the concept of Forsaken Murderer, seeks a so called 'Disease of the mind', which culminates in the deaths of many once its mission is seemingly complete.

Bald:

[...] forced upon someone in order to remove [...] which removes ones [Hair] and [Hair] in the process.

[lawofangie]

some things i've manifested

these are some basic stories, but i have some "crazy" ones i might share if you guys want lol

note: before manifesting i used to have a pretty "normal" life. i was conventionally attractive, middle classs, etc. i didn't really "need" anything but a social life and better grades. regardless of that, i just manifested whatever i wanted and didn't limit myself. i also added a few little stories behind them.

appearance change:

changed my hair texture to curly

grew from 5'2 to 5'6

clear, even skin and skin tone (tbh i already had a really good skincare routine, my skin was super clear bc of that BUT my face used to be like 10 shades darker than the rest of my body and i had CRAZY backne and strawberry legs)

losing 30 pounds (i used to be 72kg, now i'm 58kg)

changed my shoe size (i used to be size 9 now i'm size 7)

changed my hand size (for reference, my hands used to be a little longer than my phone, i had a "pro max" sized phone.)

social life:

having good friends in my state (im from up north and was completely lonely in the state i live in now)

popularity (i used to be pretty irrelevant but now everybody likes me and wants to be around me)

getting my sp's (i manifested them from scratch and took inspired action to meet them)

having people crush on me more overtly/ getting approached more (this is kind of a weird one, before my appearance change i was pretty attractive like maybe a 7/10, but i got tired of people just ogling me and not approaching me. i only had the unattractive and overconfident guys approaching me, all the attractive ones just stared lol)

just being likable lol (people used to feel threatened by me or feel like i was standoffish for some reason. idrk tbh but it was VERY annoying. i literally used to get accused of "acting like i own the place" for being quiet and just existing 💀. i didn't really care what they thought, but i hated when they complained about it and tried to make it my problem.)

school:

higher gpa (i used to have a 3.0 but i manifested a 3.8, which is a weighted 4.0)

high grades (i used to fail many tests/exams and have a mix of a, b, and c's. now they're all a's)

dream college acceptance

teachers liking me (they actually used to hate my guts it was so annoying 😭)

school crushes liking me back (tbh they probably thought i was already attractive but they never spoke to me or seemed like they wanted to get to know me)

leaving early (my school day ends at like 12 now)

lifestyle:

living closer to the city

having my dream routine (i have my dream skincare products, haircare products, diet, and health routines.)

having a high self concept (tbh i technically always did, i knew what i wanted and deserved. i just felt more like i was being injusticed. so i got rid of the "unwilling victim" mentality. i also used to ruminate on irrelevant things, like mistakes i made, what people thought of me, etc.)

very high confidence (in my looks, abilities, judgement, etc.)

money for my parents and myself

having a busy, productive life (i used to hate school because my grades weren't contributing to anything i wanted to do in life, so i wanted a productive life outside of that.)

always getting my way

getting all sorts of things for free

and more!

i'd say this all took me around 2-3 months, not because manifesting takes time, but because i assumed a lot of things would take time. i also had periods of doubt in myself and tried to handle things in the 3d on my own for some time.. which obviously didn't work. still, all i did was assume and accept these things as true and they happened overnight, in a day, or within that week. the longest anything's taken me is like 7 days, and that was because i kept wavering in my mind. manifestation is truly instant.

but anyways, i hope this is motivational and helpful. i do have some pretty "ridiculous" stories like some revenge stories, "crazy" stories regarding sp's, some not very appropriate stories, really good things happening to me, and others.

thanks for reading! i hope this helps. 🩶

[starrieisdelusional]

//soriku endgame rant in 3 2 1

okay so i’m currently 2/3 hours in on my rewatch of the video essay “Riku is gay and why it matters” by Tennelle and gosh i need a space to rant.

before this video i havent actually realized just how heavy soriku is, i legit thought it was a joke and i was delusional but like holy shit? And what makes it better it’s mutual unlike some queer ships out there that usually goes one way even if it’s heavy on riku side.

what makes it even crazier is how consistent this was spanning from multiple games? And how kairi who we thought was the love interest is getting further and further away from that concept while soriku has a very solid ground.

will nomura make them canon? Idk? Maybe? I dont want to get my hopes up but its deffo an aspect that is mutually, reciprocated !!! And the implications that kairi isnt the love interest?? And the radio silence from nomura????? That’s some green flags?

but tbh idk, it probably wont be canon either because they dont have the balls, or the series gets cancelled, or sora ended up being maried to kairi and riku is married to namine tp start kingdom hearts shippuden, or maybe its always gonna stay as subtext.

because of homophobia obviously, if kh mde their characters canonically queer theyre gonna lose income with less sales (hopefully not 😭) but with the state of queer medias nowadays, im okay with soriku being subtext. Their love is the most pure form of it.

But i mean its called kingdom hearts, so is it really far stretched to tell a story about love?

[thatonecrookedsmile]

I decided to finally color and post this thing I made a few months ago since we're getting close to BATDR's anniversary.

Consider this a fun concept based on a few things at the very least,or a Headcanon Based On Nothing At All at most. The "basis" for this comes from the fact that the Keepers' body and head are some kind of suit, with the zipper and "lens" being the most notable details of this. Which I found interesting.

Now,could the fact that they look like suits just be a side effect of them being offshots of the Machine? Yeah,yes it could. At the end of the day,the fact that they look like that can only be summed up as "they were created that way". Wilson just accidentally created cool-looking OCs. I doubt we'll get any kind of lore drop for the Keepers in the future beyond what we already know about them (but I could always be wrong).

The moment of inspiration that led me to do these sketches was when I was reading FTB and I was thinking about Gent and their experiments for a bit. The Keepers ended up getting into those thoughts at some point,which resulted in me doing… this!

So,yeah,what if the Keepers, before the Dark Revival,were old GENT containment suits?

Essentially,in my head,when JDS closed its doors,Gent continued the ink experiments in its own workshop,and the suits above were worn by the company's scientists while conducting some of these experiments. While we don't know what else the guys at Gent were doing beyond what we saw in BATDR and FTB,I don't think it's far-fetched to say that not even their scientists would want to touch the damned ink,which,as we know,is best kept away from. So,the suits are used.

In 1952,the workshop was condemned and closed. Eventually,the location and by extension - the technologies,the experiments and things like the suits - ended up in the Ink Realm. Fast forward to 72/73,the whole thing about Wilson finding out and taking control of the Cycle happens. When it came to creating his own "guards" to help with his plans in the Cycle,I guess he just. Took stuff from the Gent workshop like the suits and other stuff like gears and pipes,threw it all through the Ink Machine and uhhhhhhh,boom,the Keepers are created.

Again,I wouldn't take this as a serious theory/speculation,and as said,more as ideas and concepts based on so little that I decided to put on paper. (Might as well consider all of this potential AU stuff)

Additional stuff:

- I didn't make the outlines and the helmet's lens glow in the first 2 sketches because I realized that it wouldn't make much sense in the suits? The Keepers,sure,make sense,but for the suits themselves? Not so much. So I left them "switched off",with the exception of the third sketch,done at the time when I hadn't thought about this detail any further.

- The idea for the fourth sketch,the gas mask,came to me while looking at reference images of real-life hazmat suits. I thought it might be intriguing to have Gent scientists wear these masks under their suits,so I sketched it out to get a better idea. The mask itself was based on one of the scrapped Keeper designs, the ones that had the more "alien" feel to them. I don't know if it would fit inside the Keeper suit,but it's still something I wanted to consider.

I also like this whole concept of the suits for two other reasons. First, it gives the Keepers an origin that predates Wilson and the Dark Revival. Second, reusing old Gent suits to create his own guards isn't that far-fetched for a man whose entire rise to power within the studio and plan to overthrow the Ink Demon has depended on the work (and existence) of others to come to fruition. So that wouldn't be so absurd.

Also,here's 2 bonus sketches. The second one has nothing to do with what I've said so far, it's just something I was playing around with at the time.

[jointhedarkpuddles]

I’ve been working on redesigning an older Bendy oc; for now, here’s some headshot doodles that I made last night to get the idea down.

-

Here’s some basic ideas I had while working on this:

- Iblis is roughly based on the Ink Demon. It has an older form for BATIM which I want to tweak a bit as i’ve gotten slightly better at character design. Initially Iblis was created by Sammy Lawrence (inspired by a theory that he was deceived by Ink Bendy), thus the rope embedded in its head, and the white candle wax. This may be updated depending on the lore. Iblis was created in 2019 as part of the “candle light challenge” that was hosted on the BATIM Amino, and it became an oc after.

- Iblis used to have many candle wicks in its mouth cavity that could be lit at will, creating a glow. This has been removed in this redesign for a bright light that emanates from its throat which both resembles the light at the end of the “death tunnel”, and fire light which can be exhaled from the throat (just a concept for now). Iblis’ mouth was formerly just a void cavern, but now has a visible skull as I thought it looked creepier (lol).

- Iblis can (and does) consume corrupted ink creatures, while notably being more passive toward the “pure” or “perfect” ones. It does this by simply swallowing bodies like a snake, as it has no teeth. (Please do NOT make fetishized vore art of my oc!!!). The many detached voices that it speaks through is believed to belong to the souls of those that it consumes. It’s yet unknown if Iblis is a harvester of these souls, or just absorbs the voices as part of its being, as it can speak willfully and respond to discussion.

- the idea to give Iblis wings was based on Inkfell from Pillar Chase 2

- Iblis is referred to by it/its pronouns but it’s dominant voice is vaguely feminine (I may refer to Iblis with She/her pronouns in a silly way. It is okay if you fumble them or use any pronouns, i’m not too serious about it, but Iblis is a sexless being)

[barbs111claims]

Hi

So 2 years ago I wanted to kill myself but then I had a huge “spiritual awakening” where I say things beyond human comprehension. And from that moment I decided to give life a chance, I knew that life actually had a meaning and that was for me to discover what was beyond what I could think. It gave my so much clarity of the world around me and who I was. From that moment I also started to randomly consciously manifest things without knowing about manifesting. I’m not kidding when I say this but in that time I manifested 6 million overnight while I was just kidding about being a millionaire while listening to my rich music and then when I woke up my parents had the good news. I also manifested others things that I thought where extremely special. But I didn’t really put in effort it was just fun experimenting with my powers.

So then I decided to deepen myself in the laws. I started with law of attraction. And I ended up meditating so deeply everyday that I was so passionate about finding the ultimate truth of reality inside me, that I was extremely depersonalised from my 3D and basically lived inside my brain. I could ask things and receive answers on my questions, like the one time i asked how to invent something that could end humanity ( I still have a full doc on how to build to most effective machine that could end humanity in less than second) I also got the answer of questions about reality and my vessel. So that’s when I realised there was nothing but me. And that I was experiencing myself from the experience of myself ( if that makes sense!) I found that there really was nothing and everything at once while I was giving meaning to it. So that’s when I started with extreme anxiety and depression because I struggled so much with intrusive thoughts, not being able to ground myself in this reality and being so so scared of my thoughts. Still to this day my thoughts scare me so much that I can’t help but experience anything other than fear from myself. It’s like I’m living in a constant nightmare. I have watched so much law of assumption post and videos dedicating every second of my day on being focused and disciplined to affirming and being in the state of having what I want, but it makes me so fuckiyn angry and I don’t know why. Everytime I see a post I feel depressed because deep down I know everything but everyday I wake up in the same reality where everything fucking sucks ( I have been forcing myself to be kind self love gratitude letting go void state visualisation whatever exist I’ve done it all) and when I finally have build up that trust that everything is working out in my highest favour and I always get what I want and the 3D can’t tell me nothing yk I can delude myself into knowing I have it but it’s been over a year and I just can’t bear this reality anymore I know I’m meant for another reality and there’s just nothing for me to find here anymore. And I really don’t know what to do anymore I feel like I’m stuck in this reality where everything seems to get worse. And my thoughts are also getting worded everyday for the last year but whenever I tried manifesting a better self concept mindset etc it got worse when i don’t even want to be the person that is in conflict with themsef because that’s just a idiotic thing to do. But can you help me out?🫶

wow. Thanks for sharing your struggles I'm sure it wasn't easy.

I really want to say that we all ARE Master Manifestors. Either consciously or unconsciously. It is amazing how you found your powers earlier but also I want you to understand that there is nothing to be afraid of because "Good or bad" doesn't exist to I AM. They are just Human made concepts.

I AM is I AM.

It is being. It is the vessel that comprehends, desires and thru I AM, it gets what it want.

I would suggest you to go back meditating and just focus on the day, your thoughts and journal them and do some introspection.

Every time you have a negative thought, observe them and ask why you have that. Is it the vessel's fear or your fear? (short ans: It's your vessel's)

So as we know the creation is already done. I AM exists anywhere, It is our decision to choose what we want. I know having that power might go good or cause anxiety but the truth is that it is so freeing.

Think of the times when you manifested and the fulfilment. Feel that feeling again.

Free yourself, you aren't gonna 'manifest' anything bad to yourself truly because you are the god of your reality and god doesn't worry for being a god.

And if you still have worries, Loa is basically Law of assumptions so just assume that every time a negative thought pops, your new story manifest quicker. BE CRAZY. It's your reality<3

(btw your thoughts or your mindset getting worse are just affirmations, you can ditch the old story any moment now)

[lialuvsaven]

Icymi but also a little rambling about stuff I added here ( let me have this, I've spent more time w a dictionary writing this than I have in my last two years of highschool) and also bc I thought more writing this than I did any essay in my academic life 😔😔😔😔

1. The parchment shaped wall clock was supposed to be based on. This curio. I was so entraces by its design I pictured how something similar would look like as a clock (and yes this is a curio but it's weird looking enough that you can find it in some empty cardboard boxes or in the trash)

2. The soup made with nettle leaves- is inspired from Cignidaki zumi— an actual Romani dish, soup made with stinging nettle leaves. I found a bunch of romani recipes but this one really caught my eye bc we have stinging nettle plant here I didn't know u can eat them until now.

3. The pink diamond bit is from the jade's timeline thing hsr posted a while ago ofc, I wanted to see a follow up on it and didn't get it so I made my own reality. I don't think finding out his birthday would take jade much effort bc A. The reports mention the avgin extinction being on their religious festival kakava and. His name is kakavasha. B. But other than that, checking his files (esp in the beginning) I like to think the system is advanced enough that it automatically concerts various dating systems and such (they're modern Enough to have the synesthesia beacon)

4. The corundum stone (god BLESS finding a stone similar to his eyes took YEARS OFF MY LIFE) it has other colors? Don't worry. Hsr has better gemstones. We can't even get the diamonds from Uranus.

5. I have.... negative feelings about jade, if you couldn't tell. I tried not to make her like a completely evil lady, but given how she did call him to "talk" post penacony main quest in canon (it had layers too) I like to think between his whole thing in penacony and later actions she thought he might need a reminder. And shed know to pick a good time.

6. virtually no way for the reader to know his personal info if he doesn't give them UNLESS she knows someone like Jade. Had they asked topaz, she'd tell them that he doesn't like it (bc the stonehearts' birthdays and such are an occasion for a party/dinner/ etc, upper class socializing stuff (that is important to the business and cause) but aventurine doesn't do THAT even tho he does throw those necessary parties anyway. So it's obvious that he. Doesn't like celebrating it at least if nothing else. Later scrapped that cuz.... that's a lot of thinking

7. I thought of adding the catcakes bc cats (pets) are a great source of comfort for So many people. And they're incredibly good at sensing human emotions. And (canonically) they're said to be as intelligent as a 6 year old so. The catcakes remind him of food when aventurine is lost in his thoughts (and it doesn't feel like it's pleasant), to distract him and direct him towards a task. They all gather around him when he starts drinking bc while they likely don't understand the concept of drinking well they DO know he's distressed, so keeping him company to help him. They'd be a little freaked out to see him emotional I imagine, bc that's not something they ever saw (hence the immediate nervous attempt at comforting by nuzzling into him) I looked up how real cats act to write this and now I want a kitty do bad 😞😔

I also like. Didn't keep them in focus at all bc like....he's not in the headspace to think about them much. But they keep showing up bc that IS his family, too .

8. Dismissing a comforting smell as a potion seems something he'd do. There's actually an all good potion ( consumable) in hsr and while THAT one didn't end up in the market there's def similar stuff already. I imagine something that makes hospital food feel comforting for the patients would be popular, hence that conclusion

9. Kakavasha's shoes . I actually thought they were different when I wrote this but later realized that they seem ....to be modified. Mended maybe? But yeah. Only a pair of shoes

10. His mother smells of creosote bush. This species is found in the deserts of southwestern North America, and is said to smell of the desert rain. For a child who was blessed by rain on his birth day I think his mother likely smelt of rain, too.

11. I wanted to add in a scene with Aventurine's secretary to show she really NEVER looks at his eyes because they're. Usually seen as freaky and odd by people. And paired with the discomfort itself, she'd naturally be more careful to not do that to not offend him (him being her boss and. Because he knows how everyone sees them.) not like that's what HE wants, but what she assumes. But I decided to scrap that lol

12. Also he only managed to cry that much bc he was inebriated lol I don't think he'll ever cry like that otherwise (plus his house is empty so he doesn't have to hide it(

And I wrote down about him still remembering the painful memories with his family (while he tries to forget the extinction event desperately) bc he needs to Preserve their memory and spent like 10 minutes thinking about it preservation.... preservation....

But anyway that's about it!!

Happy Birthday, Aventurine!!

“Aventurine always tries not to remember. He's never synced the Sigonian calendar system to check the date in trailblaze calendar, never makes the mistake of dwelling on the memories surrounding this day— even when he's too drunk to remember his own name. Done everything possible to not acknowledge it; because this day feels like nothing but a curse to him.

Unfortunately, Jade has now ensured that he never gets to forget his birthday, again.”

Pairing: Aventurine x reader

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Comfort in the end to compensate for everything else ❤️ Reader is not physically present in the fic (they're not dead it's ok)

wc: 3.3k

Aventurine was abruptly interrupted by a knock on the door just as the sun began to slant westward.

With a sigh, he puts down the pen and glances at the wall clock. The hands on the parchment-shaped monstrosity read 1 pm, but his eyes are drawn back to the purple tongue protruding from its massively extended mouth. Seriously, where does Stelle find these items? "An ugly, purple parchment shaped wall clock that looks like it's ready to eat people"— isn't something most people would think to give him, to say the least. But that's the thing—it was Stelle.

She claimed to have found it during one of her "excavations." And even though Miss March 7th did her best to keep her friend from going into further details, stepping on Stelle's toes right in front of him and giving her a sidelong glance, as if he wouldn't notice, he could tell what kind of "excavations" would turn up something like this. Not like he minds the origins of this gift, however. Gifts from friends are few and far to come by, especially ones who actually tolerate him. Not to mention, Stelle likely sincerely believes that it's a cool gift, which is why it has replaced the diamond-embedded wall clock on his wall.

His musings are interrupted by a second knock, which, like the first one, reverberates once around the room before fading away in embarrassment. "Come in." He announces, reclining back in his seat and looking at the door with expectation in his eyes. It was not uncommon for his secretary to appear randomly in his office, constantly fussing over yet another minor issue. He believed it was her; at least, his itinerary showed he didn't have any guest visits today. Maybe it was time to replace assistants—the new hire is clearly not on the same wavelength as him. But he'd only recently had Topaz yell at him for changing staff so frequently; he'd prefer not to tell her that her choice was horribly disappointing just yet.

With a tiny bag bearing a brand he is all too acquainted with, the secretary enters the office. She keeps her gaze fixed on the floor the entire time, hence doesn't notice when her supervisor raises an eyebrow at the sight of his favorite jewelry brand. "Sir," she says in a low, somewhat flat voice, akin to that of a news reporter. "Earlier, a staff of Madam Jade stopped by. You have a present."

A grin appears on Aventurine's face, followed by a joyful chuckle. With how busy work has been lately, he'd almost forgotten when he asked Jade for a pink diamond, as has Jade apparently, seeing how long it's taken for her to send this. His request was a joke, of course, only meant to irritate Topaz. But he wasn't surprised either; Jade always takes good care of her weaponry. "Ahhh, no wonder!" He chirps and presses his palms together. "She must've finally found some generosity in her heart, hm?" He muses, and his assistant can only stand there stoically. He waves her off as she places the bag on his table and departs with an unnecessary low bow, never looking at his eyes once. As always.

When the secretary has left the room, he opens the bag, humming as he removes the box and gift card. Jade's handwriting is distinctive: prim and precise cursive that resembles a font.

"Happy birthday, Aventurine. This jewel would suit you far better than the pink diamond you asked for, don't you think?" — Jade

Kakavasha freezes. His birthday, she says, but she'd need to align the standard calendar system to the Sigonian one to find that out. She sent him a…..….a gift? For his birthday? 

Is this a fucking joke?

The box reveals a chunk of corundum. Raw, uncut, pink and blue hues all over. Shades way too close to his eyes, and it doesn't take a gemologist to tell that Jade had done her searching thoroughly to obtain this. A jewel the color of his eyes, the color of Avgin eyes, neatly wrapped in a box for….to send ..what sort of message, exactly? Oh Avgin, never forget who you were before I found you—unpolished and undeserving. forget your name, but never your roots.  

The note is crumpled and thrown in the trashcan, while the corundum and its box are hastily and carelessly pushed back into the bag. Really, so typical of Jade, he scoffs as he tosses the godforsaken bag into a random drawer, never to be seen again. 

Kakavasha— no, Aventurine always tries not to remember. He's never synced the Sigonian calendar system to check the date in trailblaze calendar, never makes the mistake of dwelling on the memories surrounding this day— even when he's too drunk to remember his own name. Done everything possible to not acknowledge it; because this day feels like nothing but a curse to him.

Unfortunately, Jade has now ensured that he never gets to forget, again. 

In any case, Aventurine concludes that it is not good for him to worry about this too much. Yes, he can just forget about the corundum. Yes, he is able to forget how it resembled Avgin eyes. Yes, he can also forget that Jade most likely sent this to "keep him in check" following the stunt he did in Penacony. But it was a mistake on his part to not see something coming. She had done this before, and it would not be the last time. He smiles at his own reflection in the bathroom mirror, composed, shrewd, and calculated. Since a mirror has the freedom of choice, it does not return his smile.

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By the time the car comes to a stop in front of his house, Aventurine is exhausted. His chauffeur unlocks the door for him, and he makes his way to the elevator. Yet he's interrupted again— of course, because it's a cursed day, and Aventurine has to restrain himself from scowling at the gateman, who stands in front of him wearing an anxious expression. "Sir, your friend had visited earlier to drop off something."

He raises an eyebrow and is about to inquire when he notices the bag the man is carrying. Without saying anything further, he simply takes the bag. You are the only one who'd own a dumb clockie bag and the only one who'd ever drop things off at his place.

When he steps in, his three catcakes meow loudly to greet him, and feels somewhat grateful for it. Today was just too exhausting, after all. He understands what this is about, based on the fact that you always give him gifts in person. Why, of all days, would you consider dropping it off today? And with no advanced notice- completely unlike you. How annoying, did Jade really have to do this too? He's never disclosed his birthday to you, so you probably coerced her into telling you, and she was glad to oblige, given you are of value to her.

Aventurine doesn't realize he's been standing in the kitchen for a long time until Spade begins massaging its fluffy body on his legs. He is surrounded by his three catcakes, who are all staring up at him expectantly. The message is crystal clear: We Want Food. He moves swiftly to get their food bowls, chuckling to himself before setting your lunchbox on the counter, sort of as an afterthought. At least they'll be able to go to bed well fed tonight. 

After serving them dinner, he leaves the kitchen carrying a bottle of wine, hoping to spend the remainder of the evening crashing on the couch. He can just leave everything else for tomorrow. The benefit of drinking is that it can temporarily impair your ability to sense emotions. He only needs a short term fix, after all. Come tomorrow, he'll take hangover pills, and walk out of this house as Aventurine of the stratagems again— undoubtedly.

He turns on a random B-grade movie, prepared to drink the night away. And he does precisely that—he pushes down thoughts of how his childhood friends, whose features now misty in his memories, would react if they were to see him. With another shot, he pushes down recollections of his mother's cooking—the special meals for the Kakava—and his birthday. Another to accept the now-blurry face of his sister in his memory as the only proof of her existence. Another to forget the clay dolls she'd made for him, on the last birthday kakavasha got to celebrate, that were broken when he had to run for his life. And one more shot, and another, till he's forgotten everything; till he's numb and emotionless.

Feeling empty and hollow is far worse than anything else, and being unable to cry isn't as pleasant as he thought it'd be. But in his lavish home, where gold abounds in every nook and cranny, he has little reason for tears. Money may not be able to buy him happiness, as he is well aware, but it certainly does spare him from ugly tears unfit for his visage. Maybe that's why he hasn't cried in a while, or perhaps he has simply lost his soul somewhere along the way. He stays on the couch till 3 am, accompanied by his pets. He pretends not to see the troubled looks they shoot at him, whispered words passed between them that are clearly about him. By the time he decides to rest for the night, he is fatigued, sluggish, and barely keeping it together.

When he gets up to grab a glass of water from the kitchen, Ace makes a protesting noise before promptly shutting up. Catcakes are smart creatures, and they understand him better than most individuals in his life (or maybe the difference lies in care) His throat is dry, and ice cold water from the freezer provides enormous relief. However, the respite is taken away from him by the crackling lightning, loud as a whip, pulling out memories up to the forefront of his mind again. Of the lightning without the rain, of Sigonia-IV. The drumming of the thunder is largely hidden by the concrete walls, so it isn't as hard on the ear—but it aches a lot more than it did before. Aventurine sneers to himself, dismissing the idea as ludicrous. As if.

The second time the thunder sizzles, Aventurine has to take a sharp breath and grip the countertop to steady himself. It sounds like playing dead in the bleeding streams of Sigonia-IV, like the booming cackle of the mocking thunder. Had he been an insolent child, just a little more doubtful than he already was, he'd believe it was Mama Fenge herself laughing at her so called "blessed child". The thunder sounds similar, but it's not the same. No, because this is still Aventurine and he's still here and those are someone else's memories, forgotten and buried in sand.

Aventurine sighs.

Drinking too much has never done any good to him.

Just as he is ready to leave the kitchen, he notices the lunchbox sitting the counter out of the corner of his eye. Oh, right. He hadn't even touched it. A distraction doesn't seem bad now, though. If he wants to fabricate a plausible lie about eating the food, he would at least need to know what kind of food you sent. If the mental image of your frown after discovering he never even looked at what you sent is what gives him the final push , he would never admit it.

The lunchbox has a plains bear cub logo: you've always been a sucker for cute things. He sets aside the little note attached for later this time, preferring to taste the dinner first. It looks like you chose to make him some kind of soup. Insulated lunchboxes are a blessing— because it's surely been well over half a day since you made it, yet it's still warm. While the presentation is relatively simple, it smells strangely comforting— effect of some potion? He's heard of those, but they're usually used for sick patients, no? Other than that, this is the first homemade meal he's having in a….while. Not that it matters. Aventurine isn't picky, and while the leafy greens are unfamiliar to him, he believes he can handle at least a tablespoon.

Even the largest avalanche can be triggered by the smallest of things. Just one spoonful, and yet it's enough to make his world stop.

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The dry, broken soil scraped against his bare feet, producing little clouds of dust in its wake. His strides were light and rapid, nearly tripping over himself with excitement and giddiness. Just a little more, and he'll reach the finish line. Even the Sun's typical glare felt kind today; warm and tender against his tanned skin. Jumping over the homemade hurdles, he reaches the finish line far ahead of his friends. They protest and pout, and he taunts them with the biggest smile on his face. The soles of his feet feel slightly sore from running barefoot, but Kakavasha wouldn't risk destroying his only pair of shoes for a game. 

When he hears his sister's voice calling for him, he rushes to embrace her and buries his face in her apron. His mother once told him that the Avgins all possess lovely voices, but Kakavasha believes his sister's is the best, especially when she laughs.

"And when will you listen to me and stop running around in the middle of the day, hm?" She pinches his nose and uses her apron to wipe the dirt off his face. Kakavasha beams at her with no regrets, proudly displaying the gap between his teeth. Once kakavasha had said his goodbyes to his friends, they walk hand in hand towards their tent.

There, his mother welcomes them with a warm embrace that smells like creosote bush and desert rain. “My darling," she coos, putting his small hands in her larger ones, rough from labour. "I remember you promised to be on time for lunch last time?" He grins cheekily, vowing not to do it again. (He's a repeat offender, but he knows that his mother and sister can't stay upset at him for long.)

His mother laughs, and tells him to tidy up before eating. Kakavasha's tummy is grumbling by the time he returns, and he finds the mats his sister laid down to sit on. The two siblings sit next to each other, chatting and giggling as they wait for their mother. She serves them a pot of hot soup with nettle leaves and lentils, just the way Kakavasha prefers it. He's overjoyed; quickly finishing his prayers before digging in. Kakavasha is a growing boy, and that's proved again when he finishes his bowl before his family.

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The soup she'd served him back then wasn't anything lavish; just a simple soup with local herbs and nettle leaves in a broth that smelt so uniquely of hers. His mama may have had a knack for cooking, but due to a lack of opportunities and resources, she never got to demonstrate her abilities. Compared to that, your food is much finer, and while excellent, it lacks the warmth of his mother's hands.  

Nevertheless, he can't resist taking another spoonful and quickly putting it in his mouth because the familiarity is so, so palpable. He recalls that his sister wanted him to eat better, so she gave him half of her portion after he finished his. His mother then gave his sister half of her portion, as they are Both growing children. All of a sudden, the bickering, the laughs, and their voices are as plain as day in his mind. He can't fully recall the glitter in his sister's eyes or the dimple on his mother's cheek, but it's clearer than any other memory he had of them, that's for sure. 

Aventurine can't stop crying, even if he wants to. Trying to halt the choking sobbing is fruitless, as is trying to figure out what's going on. He picks up the little message with shaking hands, hoping—praying—that it will help. You'll make it make sense. Somehow.

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“Dear Aventurine, I hope you have a wonderful birthday!!!!”  

Written in thin, flowing, rounded letters that are noticeably cleaner than your actual handwriting. You undoubtedly put a lot of effort into each letter you wrote. Aventurine was correct in assuming you found out his birthday through Jade, as you have written it here. "Buying a gift for you seems…a little perfunctory," you said, "so I've settled with cooking you something myself."

"And if the dish tastes familiar (which I hope it does) then yes, you've guessed it right— it's a traditional Avgin dish."

The perfumed ink is thicker here, a few ink blots from where you've likely paused to think, go over each sentence in your head before writing them down.

You mention finding the Avgin dishes by reading some kind of research paper on Sigonian culture and food, but Aventurine isn't sure he can believe that. You wrote, "I was fortunate enough," yet chance alone wouldn't get you something like that. Sure, maybe some doctoral candidate was crazy enough to choose a dead planet and its deader tribes to write about, but finding that paper would be too difficult. The biggest issue, however, is that Aventurine believes this dish should not and cannot exist. The stinging nettle leaves his mother used are no longer available, and while he didn't know much about cooking at the time, he was aware that all of the spices he knew were almost extinct. He's looked enough to know.

"I'll be honest, I had some trouble locating the ingredients for it and had to swap the majority of them because I couldn't find them. I really wanted to bring back a familiar feeling, even if it tastes very different from how you remember it. Plus, it's the thought that counts, right?"

In contrast to the light-hearted language, your writing is slightly wobbly and darker here, and Aventurine wonders if you realise your emotions seep through every single one of your actions, laid bare for the world to see.

Noting the disappearance of their owner, curious, the catcakes peep into the kitchen are immediately alarmed to see their owner sitting on the counter stool, sobbing and clutching a box. Spade, unsure of what to do, nuzzles it's head on Aventurine's leg, while the others meow in an attempt to calm him down. Aventurine hasn't sobbed in a long time—he can't remember how to anymore. His body shakes with each ragged and broken sob, sounding shattered and damaged, but he can't stop.

"I hope it brings you fond memories" is what you wrote down, but are you aware of the full impact of what you did for him? Most likely not. Aventurine cherishes all of his memories, including the unpleasant ones: as long as it involves his family. His misery knows no bounds, but he's only had a few years with his sister, and even fewer with his mother. So even the saddest memories are never forgotten, so he can preserve as much of them as possible. They live through his memories, after all. 

Even when plain, his mother's meals provided him with more warmth than anything else back then. To feel that warmth decades later is a blessing he can't repay— but a blessing nonetheless. He doesn't have many memories like this one either, gentle and happy, contrary to the endless memories of struggling. He remembers their love so vividly right now, feels it so strongly, alongside yours— that he has no choice but to revel in it.

(Come tomorrow , when he's sober, puffy-eyed from crying and not as vulnerable, he'll have trouble figuring your reasoning. But for now, he'll be fine. Tonight, he'll go to sleep feeling loved. Tonight, his pets will cuddle him to sleep. Tonight, he'll dream of a Sigonia Only he knows.)

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A/N: I'm honestly still so embarrassed about this bc I have an idea but can't execute it like I want to and 🫠🫠 As always, comments and reblogs are really appreciated!! Thank you for reading <3

[soultek]

I Told You So: A Concept

Author’s Note: <to the tune of 7/22 by Taylor Edwards> It’s my birthday and I’ll post my Ronnie Peterson concept if I want to!

Hi, ADCU fans! Welcome to the first of a few concepts I’ve written for you! Ronnie is my favourite, so of course, he gets to go first! 

My concepts are essentially single scenes from a much larger fic in my head, that introduce you to the relationship, and the love interest... 

I hope you enjoy this one!  💙💜

Word Count: 3,567

Warning: None

Concept: Lovers to strangers to lovers. 

Having moved back to the small town where she grew up, Araya does not expect to come face to face with ex Ronnie Peterson, now all grown up himself. Given the circumstances they broke up in, it’s understandable that he doesn’t want her around - but that’s the thing about a small town, it’s damn near unavoidable...  In truth he still has feelings for her. But he’ll be damned if he walks down that road again, what if it ends worse than the first time?

Takes place pre-film by at least a few years.

Playlist: Available on Spotify!

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When I was gonna be your forever You were gonna be my wife But you went off to find better And I was learning all about life But I was what you wanted and you were what I needed And we could meet in between We were gonna be the greatest love story this town had ever seen

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Suppose I called you up tonight And told you that I loved you And suppose I said I wanna come back home And suppose I cried and said I think I finally learned my lesson And I'm tired of spending all my time alone If I told you that I realize you're all I ever wanted And it's killing me to be so far away Would you tell me that you love me too And would we cry together Or would you simply laugh at me and say...

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Let me guess, you miss me, you're sorry Too bad it's too little too late Don't make me say, don't make me say... I don't wanna be right this time But you made a fool of me And you're not gonna fool me twice It's almost like I... I told you so, I told you I let you know, if you let go Find someone else to hold you Just walk away, don't make me say The only words I owe you

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It had been more than a few months, and he still wasn’t used to her being back in town yet. Life had passed fairly aimlessly; everything had been so day to day before then. He hadn’t needed to worry about anything – save the occasional bit of really serious police work. But now Ronnie Peterson felt like he had to be on alert everywhere he went, on the very likely chance that he’d have to find a creative way to avoid her.

Seemed he still had a thing or two to learn about breaking up in a small town. Uh— being broken up with in a small town. He hadn’t had to worry about her since she went to college. Was almost definitely over her by now.

Except that wasn’t the case, was it?

And now he was just trying to get coffee before work and there she was, once again sitting in the diner. It made him hesitate, made him think twice. Maybe he could just wait and get to work. Maybe he could actually make it through this morning without a caffeine fix.

Except he was already out of his car and half way to the door – standing in the middle of the parking lot with his hands on his hips, staring at her through the window… and he could kick himself. Clearing his throat and closing his eyes, Ronnie focused back on the concreate, shaking his head. ‘Okay. Just… get in, order coffee, get out.’ Heading for the entrance he reasoned with himself; Where else could she go? The previous owners of the house had left it in need of repair and TLC – and the old flower shop attached, once belonging to her mother, hadn’t been open for years. There was a lot of work to do, and that meant a lot of workmen in and out. All the needed planning and preparation on her part had to be done somewhere - and even with the frequency of visitors the diner got, it would still be a damn sight quieter than home would have been for her.

 Fern greeted him warmly, as ever. She didn’t even need to ask his order – Ronnie never changed it. Sometimes he thought about it, but setting that in motion hadn’t quite occurred yet. It certainly wasn’t going to be today, given how occupied his mind currently was on… other things. It was almost impossible not to glance over to her – pouring over notebooks and documents, head propped up on one hand, pencil absentmindedly tapping the page as she tried to make sense of it all. She hadn’t noticed him yet, if she knew he was here Ronnie knew she’d be doing the same thing he was. Glancing quickly became staring, until Fern’s next question interrupted him. “You taking some for the station?” “Uh…” He had to fight to drag his own eyeline back to Fern as he answered, slower than he’d like to admit. “I mean, I didn’t think about it, but I guess I could call them…” “Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s pretty early, I mean they might not even be there, right?” “Y-Yeah… right…” Fern watched as, sensing he was no longer needed to answer her questions, Ronnie’s gaze wandered back to the woman sitting in the corner. Araya Monaghan had hardly aged a day since the times her and Ronnie had been high-school-smitten with each other – still looking like a sweet small town girl, despite her move to the big city more than just a few years back. She had returned to Centerville now, though. Fern almost rolled her eyes at him. She has observed Ronnie do this more than just once or twice over the past few weeks – how he would always immediately survey the diner to see if she was here, and then stare. Even if he was also fighting with himself; and Fern could tell Ronnie was most definitely fighting himself. It was about time she took things into her own hands.

“Didn’t you guys break up?” “Huh?” Concentration once again broken, Ronnie turned back, not entirely sure he’d heard that right. Or, maybe hoping he wouldn’t have to go through this yet again with someone in this town. “You broke up, right?” Oh yeah, he’d heard right. Unfortunately. “Oh. Yeah, that was…” Fern couldn’t help but smile knowingly as he went right back to staring at Araya, answer quiet, “a long while ago.” He was silently begging her to drop the conversation, but that wasn’t part of her plan, so Fern continued. “But you still like her.” Ronnie wasn’t sure that he liked the tone sounding more statement than question. He pretended to muse hard on it. Part of him still really hurt – part of him still twisted up seeing Araya back here after so long; like just after he’d got it together she had to move back just to wreck everything? She couldn’t get away with that. Not after breaking his heart. Not how she’d done it.

And yet… yes, he did look at her now and at least partially long for her back – if he was honest with himself (which, he didn’t want to be), Ronnie nearly always had. Therefore, when he responded with “Hmmm… well…” despite his trail off, he nodded; but it almost seemed absentminded, like he hadn’t quite admitted it yet. As his attention was still on her, this time Fern’s eyes flicked over too, “Well, she clearly still likes you a whole lot too.” They were almost as bad at each other for staring. The only reason it wasn’t happening right now was because she hadn’t looked up yet.

This, Ronnie knew. Despite Araya’s initial shock that he was still in town, she now looked at him in the way she used to. Which in all honestly twisted him up even more. He wasn’t about to admit this, and scoffed at the idea instead. “Well, she broke up with me.” Fern simply nodded, “Uh huh.” and then placed a cup in front of him. Not paper to take away, oh no, a proper cup and saucer. Then tipped her head in the direction they’d both been looking, “Now go on, stop staring and go talk to her.” Ronnie’s mouth opened, nearly in shock, pushing the cup back to the edge of the counter, “Fern, I’m taking out! I’m not staying!” She didn’t budge, instead lowering her voice to a semi-threatening whisper. “Don’t make me walk it over to her table!” She pointed daringly at him and Ronnie realised he wouldn’t be getting out of this in a hurry. This was not the morning he had planned. He swallowed hard, nodding in acceptance of his situation, before picking up the cup – shooting Fern a look just so she knew he wasn’t best pleased about this – and walked over to the back of the diner slowly.

 At the corner table Araya was sitting at, this exchange had gone completely unnoticed. In fact, Ronnie could probably have snuck in and out no problem and been well into his shift, before she even looked up from the papers in front of her. Largely because she had done the same calculation about five times already and the answer was never the same, and never matched the breakdown sheet. She theorised that it would have to eventually -  but now it was a case of when eventually was.   What she didn’t fail to notice however, was someone heading cautiously in her direction, and once she’d caught the movement it caused enough of a distraction to make her look up. Though, his nearly 6’3” frame probably helped. Although, Araya couldn’t help but startle – because Ronnie Peterson was not who she would expect to be walking towards her if he was given any sort of choice in the matter. (Well… maybe once.) As he was about to confirm.

“Oh, hey!” “Hey.” It was blunter than she would have liked. He gestured to the cup in his hands, “Fern did this and I’m pretty sure would have refused me a takeout cup otherwise, so…” Araya pressed her lips together, nodding, trying to ignore her own disappointment and indicated to the seat in front of her, hoping it didn’t drip into her voice. “Care to join me?” She half expected him to say no, but Ronnie was always polite so she got a “Well, yeah…” As he slid into the booth, the cup chinked gently as he placed it down – finding space amongst the paperwork – and Araya was given a window of opportunity to study his face as he became interested in her notes. Dare she say he was even more handsome now than he was to her back then. “Watcha doing?”

When Ronnie glanced back at her, he equally ignored the way pink dusted her cheeks ever so slightly, the way she took a breath before she answered to steady herself. “Oh, uh… kinda budgeting… expenses… figuring it out as I go, but, not going so great.” Then he smiled in remembrance. That made things worse. And he knew it. “Math was never really your strongest suit.” She smiled back, chuckle soft, and nodded along, looking away from his eyes, “Yeah, you’re right.” “Want me to help?” He’d asked before he could stop himself.

Araya looked back at him, eager to accept, ready to beam and push her books and calculator across the table to him and start rattling off issues - exactly as she would have done in high school. But she stopped herself from looking too joyful, and instead cleared her throat before sliding everything to the side. “No, you know what, I can figure it out later. You’re sitting in front of me with a coffee, so the least I can do is… actually have a conversation with you. You’ll have plenty to do at work, you don’t need to also be doing mine.” Ronnie’s eyebrows raised with the shoulders of his shrug, “Oh well, if you… ever need any help.” “Oh, I know where to find you, Ronnie, trust me.” The pink became dark red, “I mean, not like- I- I know where the station is.” Although the smile he flashed was almost a smirk, “I’d hope you wouldn’t have forgotten where I live but, the station is a good start, yeah.” Her eyebrows furrowed, not willing to jump to conclusions, “…I, uh, know where your parents live.” Lived? Araya wasn’t sure if they still lived here, although that wouldn’t surprise her even if Ronnie’s presence did. “Yeah, I’m still on that side of town.” And Centerville was small enough for that to roughly mean the same place. Araya’s head tilted, it wasn’t a hard link to pick up, “Not my side of town.” “Well… no.” He said matter of fact. “Your parents still here?” She’d half expected him to have been long gone. Ronnie had never seemed much like a homebody, even when he hadn’t known what he wanted for his future. She’d figured he’d want to stay here even less after her. How wrong she could be. “Mhm.” “Oh.” Her grimace was easy to read – ‘what must they possibly think of me’ – he held his hand up to quickly rectify. “No, no, don’t worry – I never tried to get them to hate you.” This clearly didn’t help things, by the fact her face became pained – but it wasn’t like she wasn’t aware of what she deserved. Ronnie tried again, “Oh no, I-” but then he stopped, because, yeah actually he did hate Araya for what she did. At least back then. Maybe even still. And lying wasn’t the way to go, so it was probably best to just stop talking. He bit his lips together, “I’m sorry, that… was uncalled for.” “No, No I…” She crossed her arms on the table, rubbing her thumbs over the sleeves of her dress, “probably deserve that.” He gave another shrug, this one more apathetic, before taking a sip of coffee. Concluding it was cool enough to drink, Ronnie didn’t put the cup down. The faster he drank it, the faster he could leave… Araya watched him, not because she was waiting for him to say anything else – simply because she liked watching him. She could sit for hours in silence and do that. If he would let her – which, Ronnie certainly wouldn’t be doing any time soon. When he placed the cup down, however, it wasn’t empty. “You know, the coffee here really is the best. I don’t know how Fern does it. Truly something else.” Araya laughed at his musing, “Must be a secret ingredient.” He laughed too, “Must be something like that, huh?”

And that was the problem. It was so easy to be amicable. It was so easy to talk to her again. Like a needle slipping into a groove. Natural. Something they both wanted back, as if it was never gone. And it was like it was never gone. But it had gone – goodbye had been said more than once, and the last time they had seen each other (before, a few months ago, she turned up walking down the street in the middle of his patrol looking like a deer caught in headlights), they had both screamed things they wanted to take back.

Ronnie didn’t know what he wanted anymore. Friends wasn’t going to cut it. He couldn’t just ignore her, even with his best efforts. But he couldn’t let his feelings run away with this. What would happen if they did get back together? What if it all fell apart again? What if it was worse? He couldn’t take that. He couldn’t even consider the possibility.

 That didn’t mean she wasn’t thinking the exact same thing he was. That didn’t mean Araya wasn’t brave enough to tentatively ask it. In moments like this when they were actually getting on – where maybe she’d get the answer she wished for. Nervously tucking her hair behind her left ear before she did, and yet still able to hold the steady gaze of his brown eyes. “Do you ever think about it?” All the time. “About what?” He played a convincing perplexed. “Don’t you wonder if… - What - this could be?” Despite his previous dedication to the truth – Ronnie had no choice but to outright lie, straightening himself. “God, no… I couldn’t bring myself to read the plot points for this. I don’t think I wanna know…” Araya’s eyebrows furrowed again, if any disappointment had even entered her thought stream it had quickly been washed away with confusion. “Plot points?” Ronnie nodded, “Yeah… for the fic?” Araya’s look of puzzlement turned to one of surprise, “Oh. I didn’t know you could just read those and find out what happens.” “Yeah. If I wanted further heartbreak I guess I might!” To stop himself from talking too much Ronnie turned back to his coffee, this time making sure to finish it. But at the look still on Araya’s face, found himself compelled to continue, “I mean there must be some, you wouldn’t write a fic without them, right? I mean--” on second thought, knowing this author…

She sat silent for a moment with her own thoughts, digesting what he was saying. Although, even when she hadn’t fully, Araya gained confidence in her understanding enough to be able to look back into his eyes. What she was hearing was – he didn’t want to not try. It was what happened after that worrying him. And no wonder. “You wouldn’t want to know how it ends?” What if it was like a fairytale? What if they got a happy ever after? That didn’t have to be just fantasy and her wishful thinking. Ronnie blinked, teeth sinking into his bottom lip, before he shrugged again, this time being the one to look away, fingers dancing around the rim of his coffee cup, “Well I didn’t exactly like how it ended last time – if I read it and it doesn’t end well, why would I even want to start anything?” “What if it doesn’t end this time?” There was a warmth to her words as she went back to leaning her head on her hand. Araya was teasing him, of course. It wasn’t really a serious question – she knew neither of them could handle it being a serious question right now. They needed time, they had had time sure – but they needed more. His head tilted, eyes still not meeting hers – but the look on his face let her know she had a point. Ronnie couldn’t argue with that, but STILL! “I don’t think I wanna take the chance to find out. Could be worse. Don’t want that. No, thank you.”

By the time he’d finished his eyes were focused back on hers, with intensity. As if his would be the final word. Araya would have let him have it too, would have nodded along; ‘fair enough’. She even went back to looking at her work, pencil returning to her hand - but then she realised what he’d said. She paused her writing and looked up at him, curious, a little hopeful… but trying not to look too interested – perhaps not wanting Ronnie to realise exact what he’d said just yet. “Wait… so you… are thinking of… starting something?” It wasn’t a stupid question. Even if it would seem to be – either way he answered would have felt correct to both of them. It wasn’t as if there weren’t inklings of chemistry, that had somehow never faded, but she knew how hesitant he was considering how much she had hurt him before. Walking away from someone saying you couldn’t handle a relationship and then ending up in one again less than two months later would do that to a person. Ronnie had gone from wanting her back; would do everything and anything to have her back to… ‘well screw it and screw her and I never want to see her again and I’m actually quite MAD at her truthfully.’, and back again enough times in the years since. His distance when she first arrived didn’t surprise her, even when it was so easy to warm up like this after a five minute conversation. Araya was just as surprised at herself… she didn’t expect to fall back in love with him so easily, and so soon. The wish for her old relationship back had almost been immediate. As much as she understood the situation, at this point it felt so much like dancing around it; they both still had feelings neither would admit for their own personal reasons and the rest of the town was just… waiting. Of that they were almost certain.

Despite this, despite thinking he would want the final word back, Ronnie didn’t answer her. Instead, he just sat up a little straighter. His eyebrows furrowed together and he frowned a little, breathing out deeply – in a way that said everything, but there was no verbal answer… Araya knew better than to push him, and right now he had no coffee and she had no thread of conversation to keep him here either. Ronnie should be getting up and leaving and going to work now, because what else was there to do? He knew this, and so did she and yet he was still just… sitting there.

Either way, she had work to do, and dragging her notebook back towards her, Araya knew she had to think of something quickly before Ronnie figured out nothing was keeping him in his seat. She wanted to keep this conversation flowing – while he wasn’t scowling at her like he’d wish she’d leave, or straight up ignoring her presence. It had been so long since she’d got him like this, and she liked his company – whether Ronnie was talking or not, she always had. “A-Actually…” She held on to the only thing she had left, “If you wouldn’t mind just taking me though this one calculation that won’t add up? It’s different every time, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.” He studied her face for just a fraction too long, and without the immediate response she feared that she might lose him this time. Ronnie checked his watch - what was five more minutes? - before he shook his head, “Sure. What’s up? Let’s see what I can do!” Then she smiled, the way she always used to smile at him and a smile he hadn’t seen since she’d left. Ronnie was 90% sure he wouldn’t hear a damn word she was about to say, and Araya would have to repeat herself, but it’d be worth it. What would be five more, five more minutes?

Fern watched from the counter as Ronnie leaned over the table to listen to Araya better, taking the pencil gently from her hand to explain exactly where she was going wrong. It didn’t seem like two minutes since they’d been high school age doing this…

She smiled to herself knowingly, looking at the empty coffee cup and then back at the in-depth discussion – the joy on Araya’s face when it finally made sense and the way Ronnie laughed to. And this time he didn’t check his watch.

It might take a little time, but they would get there. And if that meant she had to keep pouring his coffee into a proper cup instead, she’d make as many as it took.

---

Thank you for reading! ✨

[duu-kiwi]

I bet aziraphale wrote about the day the universe was made, about the angel whose voice recited the words that created the stars, about how bright they shone, and still shine, in those angel eyes✨🪐

Here you have some detailss and a cropped version with just!! them!!!

edit: prints link !

[mochapanda]

bunch of kairis (+ bonus quadratum kairi)

[chronologically-challenged]

There was this one art a little while ago about the family stuck in a situation where they're forced to play ISAT in some post game scenerio. I keep having many thoughts, but here's some about them figuring out who Loop is:

1) They all BAFFLED by how Loop usually talks. They all thought Loop was this shy little star person. Immediately, they get hit with "have you tried not dying~~~~" into "I think you deserve help" and do not know what to think.

2) Odile is in charge of the controller. Mainly bc no one else wants to control Siffrin and they all have equal amount of video game experience aka none, so Odile is being practical about it. This has the side effect that Odile gets to be all investigative. Odile makes it her MISSION to find stuff out about Loop.

3) Siffrin has complicated feelings about them finding out about Loop??? Like okay they HATE their family has to see all this, ESPECIALLY THAT THEY CAN SEE HIS THOUGHTS!!!! But. Loop. Siffrin hasn't told his family the truth. It's not his story to tell. But. If they figure it out...? In a way that proves Loop wrong, right? That they can recognize them. Maybe it takes a bit because Loop looks different is and actively trying to be different from Siffrin. But. Maybe...? Either way they encourage Odile to talk to Loop. If this is a simulation... if this is real in some way even... yeah he wants to talk to Loop.

Anyway here's a list on how they find out one by one:

Odile: She catches the little stuff. She notes the royal We, the fact that Loop alludes to having an old body by accident, the casual familiarity in some places. All of that. She is also the first to note their eyes being different shades. However, Odile doesn't make the connection 100%, not until Isabeau. Well.

Isabeau: He gets some of the weird stuff Loop says but not as many as Odile. HE finds Loops side comments weirder. He sees Loop's reactions and they're a bit. Uncanny.... and then he has another realization, Loop and Siffrin have the same eyes. When Isabeau notes this, it all clicks for Odile.

Mirabelle: Okay, so. You cannot tell me that Mirabelle has not read fantasy stories with weird guide characters. She has to have!!!! So at first, she's not even looking for who Loop is. And tbh? She has the best read on Loop's personality otherwise. Sassy, but clearly caring. A bit of a shit, but serious when needed. And mainly, she appreciates Loop Being There when the rest of them couldn't. That being said, the moment where the "have you wondered who I am" happens. And suddenly Mirabelle Is Thinking Of the Possibilties. And then the ME option pops up!!!! Odile was already about to pick it but Mirabelle YELLS to pick that one!!!!! Uh. Shortly after that they all have a conversation about how yeah, Loop is VERY likely Siffrin. Mirabelle justifies herself with tropes. Of course!!! Of course they're Siffrin!!! If they're anyone they have to be Siffrin. Siffrin got transformed and became the guide they needed!!!! It Just Makes Sense.

Bonnie: ....Tbh doesn't really figure it out on their own? But also. Loop. Feels like Frin. Not exactly like Frin. But they're Frin enough to be trusted so who cares. It takes awhile for them to really get it too because... it's weird. Also they're the one to really ask why there would be two Frins??? Duh??? And why would Frin become Loop???

Anyway, basically, after picking "Me?" They pretty much are all on the same page. They got that it was wishcraft. They got Loop is Siffrin somehow. I think Odile might figure out that "hey, uh if Loop is the guide then what happens when Loop doesn't have a guide" and Mirabelle probably says "wait Siffrin didn't you say to me once that without Loop you wouldn't have made it?"

Meanwhile Siffrin is a mix of sad and very emotionally touched. Because. Yeah. Even when trying to actively hide, their family recognized them.

Notably, Siffrin gets them to twohats (Siffrin remembers that they understood Loop most after showing them the coin. So yes, the family does get to see Siffrin's "I will forget everything I love" moment. Goes as well as you expect. Lots of hugs and the reassurance that they will bug Siffrin until the end of their days so he can't forget him so HA!)

But yeah. Siffrin really wants to make sure they can get little simulation Siffrin to realize Loop is Siffrin as well. Because if there is any chance of this being real and that they're guiding a Siffrin in another reality, then they want to make sure they can get Loop to know just how much they did. How much they helped and changed Siffrin's fate for the better.

To note: I'd imagine in this scenario, Odile wouldn't go do any of the side stuff. At least not too much of it. There wouldn't be as much exploration either. Siffrin likely would be very underleveled as a result.

So perhaps in this scenario? Imagine if you will that while the Siffrin watching definitely defeated Loop, the simulation Siffrin loses.

And Siffrin finds out that... no. No! Of course Loop couldn't kill him. Of course they wouldn't. There is a catharsis to that realization.

(After they finish the game, either a) prologue playthrough time or b) they're freed and the group IMMEDIATELY try to figure out a way to find Loop bc uh??? Even if they weren't Siffrin, they want to find them. But like. Two Frins. Two Frins they know are different but who cares, no matter who Loop chooses to be, Loop Is Family Too).

Anyway, family plays isat featuring the Loop Saga.

[soy-bean-factory]

had some thoughts about certain characters having halos with specific looks to them, so i drew it.

//explanation(?) in the tags if your curious vv

[icewindandboringhorror]

What would you choose? :0c

(note: original image is from HERE (link) - but I edited it to add a wider variety of options.. also added $3 extra to the total, even though I know that makes it more uneven lol, I thought if you're adding 10 whole extra items, the money to spend should at least be increased slightly, if that makes sense..)

[caramelmochacrow]

"Beating so fast, seems like it'll burst..."

[bonefall]

where’s that little horror piece about kits never growing up in Starclan? because I remember it so vividly but I can’t find it.

The one about Bright Stream?

Weird that it's so hard to find! It's probably because it's got such heavy tags lmao.

I really mean it though like, canon's permakitten system and the idea that Bright Stream is up there, forever taking care of fetus children who were filled by sudden knowledge and yet never grow past that point absolutely horrifies me. Jesus Christ. I don't know how anyone reads that final scene in Path of Stars and isn't filled with itching, white-hot existential dread, man.

Sometimes you just gotta write horror about it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[quirkle2]

who wants zombie au writing. don't answer that ur getting it anyway (1.6k words)

His shoes knock against the old flooring of the house, wood creaking under rubber soles that slide over the woodgrain. He drags them a bit, lifts his limbs up no more than he strictly has to, and they lead him to the nearest sittable surface.

The couch is old and dusty and has likely gone untouched for months, much like everything else nowadays, so he watches the thin cloud of dust billow off the cushions largely with disinterest. He collapses into the fabric heavily, feels the whole thing scoot back an inch and hit the wall behind him. The sound echoes, carried by lifeless rooms, while he unceremoniously drops his backpack to the floor by his feet.

The breath he lets out is slow and methodical and born of pent up muscles, aimed at the ceiling where he rests his neck against the back of the couch and relaxes every limb one by one. It’s a process he forces himself through, if only to rid the constant ache beneath his skin.

Slow, sweeping footsteps meander around the room in front of him, and Ritsu angles his gaze down from his craned back position to look at his brother. He wanders, like he so often does—seemingly aimless, but there’s something procedural about it that he’s convinced he just hasn’t figured out yet.

Shigeo’s empty eyes crawl along the hearth of the fireplace, explosions of ash sprayed out across the red brick. His head tilts up to trace his attention around the angular lines of the television, hung on the wall and screen grey with dust. He flits back and forth between the roundness of the bricked mantle and the sharp edges of the screen, like he’s taking notes.

Shigeo paws the television. Four lines of muck are cleared. The zombie blinks, paws at it again with dusty, curious fingers. Ritsu watches him make a mess of the television screen in silence, blinking tiredly.

He almost closes his eyes, but he fights against the urge and moves his fingers down his lap to reach for his bag. His middle hooks around the loop at the top and he lugs it up and into his lap, where he unzips it and peers into the shadowy contents.

Ritsu fishes out the water bottles. He finds the one with the messy R scribbled along the cap in sharpie and takes a big swig of it. It’s warm going down, constantly insulated in a bag of old, sweaty clothes. He feels like he can taste the odor in it, but it clears the grain in his throat from stomping all over dirt roads today, so he’s still grateful.

He holds out the one labeled S to Shigeo. “Thirsty?”

Shigeo looks at him from where he’s crouched down to the floor now, inspecting the soot along the hearth. Unfortunately, he sees handprints in the black already, and when his brother reaches a hand out to take it, his palm is covered in soot.

He lets him have his fun and settles his own bottle back in the mess of tangled clothes and rolls of bandages. Ritsu rakes his fingers through their stock with no real purpose—he knows exactly what’s in here, and none of it is useful.

They’d been searching all day; Ritsu doesn’t really know how far they’d walked, but it had to be a lot of miles. In and out of stores, up and down empty houses, weaving between warehouses—they didn’t really stop for a break. Not when Ritsu can hear Shigeo’s stomach from here and he himself has shaking hands. They can’t afford a break.

Nothing, though. Not a single goddamn thing worth taking. A settlement must have come through here long ago and swept the highway. They’re in the countryside, where houses are spaced out acres from each other and there’s entire cow pastures between properties. And yet every house they’d seen and entered provided nothing.

Ritsu stares into the negative space in his bag where there should be supplies. His stomach cramps and if he smells another whiff of that godawful sweaty, bloody sweatshirt he still carries, he’s going to throw up bile.

He leans away from the open pouch, eyes wandering to his brother who draws… something into the soot of the hearth. His water bottle sits on the floor, abandoned and still unscrewed. Ritsu leans forward with great effort and a grunt, leaning over his bag to grab at the top of it.

It takes him two tries to get Shigeo’s attention, and one more for an answer on where the cap is. It’s then placed in his palm, covered in soot and also saliva. Ritsu swallows down the nausea that rolls up his throat and wipes it off with his frankly already disgusting sleeve, and screws it back on.

He leans back again, succumbing to the urge to let his eyes rest, and he listens to the very subtle swipe of his brother’s hands across brick. There’s birds outside, chirping, and even though it’s still very much a common occurrence, Ritsu cannot help but feel nostalgic about it.

If he ignores the awful hum of silence, and the distinct lack of an electric thrum throughout the walls, and the fact that this is a stranger’s couch and not his, he can almost imagine normalcy. He can almost say this feels like those quiet moments after school, when he settles on the couch and scrolls through his phone in a house that only holds him and his brother because their parents simply aren’t home yet.

He can almost hear the creak of wood from Shigeo walking around his room upstairs. He can almost tap his fingers on the couch cushions to the pattern of his brother making his way down the steps. He can almost hear the fridge opening, and the sound of milk being poured into glass.

Almost. But Ritsu listens to sharp silence instead, and he tries not to think too hard.

He drifts for a while, feels himself truly sink into the couch and let the cushions claim him, and he thinks about nothings because if he doesn’t, then he’ll lose it. He carefully sifts through the nothingness of his mind, through the passing thoughts that have no bearing, and he focuses on that, on the lack of substance. His head is too full of things that have too much substance.

He misses boredom. He tells himself he misses boredom—the complete insubstantiality of it—because if he lets himself think of what he really misses, it’ll drive him insane.

The cushions move, and Ritsu peels his eyes open and lets himself get pulled from liminal mindspace. The cotton in his head recedes, and he blinks, and then he’s swiveling his head to look at his brother who sits in the cushion right next to him.

His hands and the cuffs of his hoodie are smothered in black. Shigeo sits hunched, gaze still wandering even when there’s not much decoration in this house to look at. He studies the off-white walls, the chips in the paint, the holes drilled in where there maybe used to be photos hung.

Ritsu gazes at him quietly, chest instinctively rising and falling to match his brother’s rhythm. He watches the expansion there, under his hoodie, in the subtlety of the folds and the way they warp over the movement. It’s slightly quicker than what he’s used to, but Ritsu knows his brother’s heart rate is much slower. He’s felt it before. He’s listened to it before, with his ear against a chest.

Ritsu’s attention moves to his eyes, and the heavy bags underneath them, and the paleness of his pupils and the ghostlight of him underneath that. He stares into them, looks for stray, familiar thoughts that might enter his head. Looks for old memories that might shine through in the form of recognition when he sees furniture layouts, and candy wrappers, and ads for soda.

Ritsu looks for it all the time, that glint of familiarity. And he finds it, sometimes. And really, he thinks that’s keeping him going more than food ever will.

Shigeo turns his head, and looks at him. Sometimes, when his brother looks at him, there’s not much there. No substance, no anything. And Ritsu finds it a bit evil that he craves silence in his own head, and yet noise in Shigeo’s, and often times it is the other way around.

His brother looks at him now, though, with that comforting recognition. That growth of the pupils, that softening of the hard edges of his face where unknown stressors have gotten to him. Ritsu wonders what zombies get stressed out. He figures it’s the same deal with humans, considering they’re largely alike.

Ritsu wonders if Shigeo knows he’s sick. He wishes he could ask him. He wishes for a lot of things. Silence in his own head is one of them.

Ritsu swivels his head away and stares at the ceiling, if only to force the thoughts to pause. He studies the popcorn ridges above them, traces the peaks with his gaze. It calms him, gives him something to focus on. He looks for patterns in the shadows they make.

Shigeo shifts next to him. And then he shimmies down, settles into the cushions, and plops his head right down on Ritsu’s shoulder.

Static roars in his mind and his heart stammers. Ritsu swallows the lump in his throat but that just makes it bigger, so he clamps his mouth shut and breathes carefully through his nose.

The tears cut through the grime on his face. He plops his own head down against his brother’s, and lives in the noise.