#and finally today i wrote more

[faiasakura]

Latest Line Tag Game

Rules: in a new post, show off the last line you wrote and try to tag as many people as there are words.

Tagged by @disniq

For now, he’ll keep the amnesia problem to himself.

Tagging 9 people: @sayasays @qorktrees @tinydance @bookwyrmling @overzelos @surefireshore @khashanakalashtar @alasse-irena @cardinal-paperback-historian

If you see this and want to play, tag you’re it!

[that-was-anticlimactic]

see a world so beautiful and strange (spinning off somewhere)

“Why? Why are you suppressing?”

“Because I can't tic,” Alya whispered, fingernails digging into the skin on her arm. “I know Tourette’s isn’t exactly uncommon, but it’s part of my identity as Alya Césaire. It can’t be a part of Rena Rouge, too. Someone could figure out who I am and then…”

And then she’d have to give up the coolest thing that’s ever happened to her, give up living her dreams.

[or, alya is suppresses as rena rogue in order to protect her identity, but neither ladybug nor trixx will let her hurt herself like that]

🦊2,345 words | alya-centric, alya & ladybug friendship🦊

happy tourette's awareness month!!!

[stealingyourbones]

Short DPXDC Prompts #977

Dani finds Secret wandering around in the Ghost Zone. Secret fell through a natural portal and has no idea how to head back. Time to get her back to the living realm.

[total-drama-brainrot]

Alenoah Week 2024: Day 3 - "TDWT Ending Rewrite"

The trek to the top of the volcano was, in layman's terms, agonizing.

Searing heat, somehow simultaneously swelteringly humid and suffocatingly dry, blistered at every inch of Noah's exposed skin and burned through his lungs like hot coals with every laboured breath. The sweat that would've been dripping from his exhausted body like a faulty faucet didn't even have the opportunity to form into pearl-shaped droplets before it evaporated against the overwhelming force of just how fucking hot it was.

And yet he'd made it.

He'd gotten there first, too.

Noah had somehow managed to out-slither the slippery fiend whilst the two were stumbling across the skipping stones of a lava lake, despite the weight of his pineapple dummy causing him to falter after almost every step.

The maw of the volcano bubbled and spat embers at his feet, just a few measly inches from the cynic himself. It was time to end it; the competition, the show, his… rivalry with Alejandro.

As if the mere thought of the Spaniard had somehow summoned him, Noah heard the tell-tale clicking of heeled boots against rock behind him quickly followed by harsh, laboured panting (not nearly as desperate as his own wheezing, but a far cry from the womanizer's usual composure). Alejandro's ponytailed hair rose from the plateaued peak of the volcano, followed by a pair of thick eyebrows furrowed against sweat-sheened skin, then a pair of furious sage green eyes- and sage was the most appropriate description Noah could think of, since they burned with a competitive fire comparable to the all-encompassing heat around them.

"It's over, Alejandro. I have the high ground."

Noah's voice was a hoarse, painful rasp, though whether it was from its unbearable dryness or the tenseness of the situation, he wasn't sure. He stood firmly at the edge of the volcano, searing light illuminating the edges of his form like a foreboding halo as he held Pinealejandro almost covetingly in a bridal carry, hovering the dummy over the scorching cavern of its imminent demise.

Alejandro- the human one, not the pineapple one- continued his unwavering ascent to the volcano's peak until he was but a few insignificant feet away from Noah. His shoulders visibly rose and fell with each huff of magma-scorched breath, and the barbaric snarl he bared towards the bookworm twisted his handsome features into something wild, alight with a passion that burned at white-hot as the lava below.

Then he roared.

"You underestimate my power!"

And lunged towards Noah, carelessly discarding his own pineapple dummy (comparatively twiggier and more feeble looking than Noah's own) as he cleared the space between them in the blink of a cinder-dusted eye.

"I will not lose to someone as infuriating as you!"

Before he could process what was even happening, Noah found himself scooped away from the edge of the volcano and lifted a few extra meters off of the ground, held victoriously above the latino in an overhead lift like he was some sort or glorified barbell. The shock of which inadvertently caused him to drop his own dummy, sending the construct tumbling into the bubbling, gaping chasm below until it plunged into the awaiting magma with a barely audible 'plop'.

For a brief tension-paused moment the two remained eerily still, almost frozen in place with disbelief (an impressive feat, considering it was far too fucking hot for anything to freeze atop the volcano).

Well.

That was that, then.

…It was sort of anticlimactic, really. Noah was almost disappointed.

"Um," The bookworm began, quickly schooling his surprise at being lifted and brandished like a javelin into his usual apathetic countenance, "Are you going to put me down, or…?"

Noah's enquiry was met a bark of high pitched laughter, a sound so entrenched in sardonic humour it was practically swimming in animosity.

"Ah, but Noah," Alejandro preened indulgently, as if he were speaking to a small child, and his snarl curled into a manic grimace. The archvillain's eyes were widened to their extreme, dying wisps of ember light flickering across his gaze which trailed from the waifish nerd held above his head to the boiling magma below.

"I still have a dummy to discard of."

In other words,

THROW THAT TWIG

INTO THE VOLCANO!!!

[maranull]

Malenia beach episode headcanons?

She'd absolutely wreck everyone at volleyball even without eyes.

She could also show why dexterity is so heavily associated with water ;)

I wonder about your ideas 💕

Sure!

I think she wouldn't swim much in deep water though. Gold doesn't corrode in salt water (says a very quick search) but all the weight of three metal prosthetics would make swimming annoying to say the least.

She does like walking and running around in the swallows though.

She also likes rowing a lot so often she rents a boat and goes along the coast or maybe at some island that's visible from the beach.

The swallows are basically the only place she would accept a wrestling challenge from you (or play along to a surprise attack) cause tossing you around in the water is way safer than a floor.

Though one time she actually send you flying three meters in the air so she toned it down a bit after that.

As you said, she dominates at volleyball. (she casually wins 1v5s)

She's also amazing at Frescobol and will hit insane jumps and dives.

After showering she will theatrically complain about her hair so she can get you to comb them.

While not a fan of clubs (way too much noise), she really enjoys getting a drink and chilling at the beach at night. Just talking and listening to the waves and the faint music from the bar/club/whatever.

If she rented the aforementioned boat overnight, she might take you for nightly boat date.

That's all I got! <3

[hayconrisa]

unwind holiday week day 1: snow day ❄️

risa ward, hayden upchurch, connor lassiter (hayconrisa)

~600 words

a little cabin fever never hurt an AWOL

Risa never liked winter.

When she was in Ohio State Home 23, the cold air was always a reminder of how much she had to fend for herself. The only gifts she and other StaHo kids ever got were scratchy sweaters that felt like wearing dishcloths, and gifts from each other, hand-made, hand-spoken.

Then, she was kicking AWOL, and it was a miracle she didn't die from the unforgiving frigid chill of Ohio’s winters. Frostbite never did anything more than chip away at her fingernails, but bordering on hypothermic every day had done irreparable damage to her nervous system.

She got sick easier, she got sick harder. Forget staying warm and cozy inside a cabin with the fire burning bright and flickering across the wood—Risa stayed inside because she didn't want to catch a winter cold and have it turn much worse.

When she and Connor had their six months of isolation in Marseille, she evaded the cold and basked in the 54 degree winter days. They both found out very quickly that that lifestyle hadn't been sustainable, because they had been missing one very important person.

“You good, Risa?”

She blinked, tearing her attention away from the window. Hayden padded to the couch, sidling up to her on the couch, two mugs of a hot something in his hands.

“Yeah,” she said, relieving the tension in Hayden's furrowed brow. “Just thinking. I guess I'm doing a lot of that these days.”

Hayden hummed and handed her the mug. It was hot chocolate. Of course it was hot chocolate. There was even a snowman shaped marshmallow bobbing in the cocoa, the smile on its face slowly melting off.

“Thanks.”

Hayden abandoned his mug down on their coffee table to let the heat dissipate, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Cabin fever, huh?”

Risa snorted. “Tell me about it.”

“Oh, I have. You're going to get sick of my voice before you get sick of being cooped up here.”

Risa took a sip of her cocoa, and it burnt the roof of her mouth. “I’d never.” She set her mug down next to Hayden’s, leaning into his shoulder. “You’re the one thing that has made this winter actually tolerable for me.”

“Awww. I'm touched.”

Risa shook her head, looking at him. “I mean it, Hayden.”

His smirk dropped a little, turning into one that was more genuine, heartfelt. He always smiled that way when Risa caught him off-guard by being completely unfeigned. Never saccharine—that wasn't her style. But she knew that admitting to him that she wouldn't have her life any other way, her life with him in it, dug so deep into his resolve that he was never quite sure how to handle it.

So he smiled a kind of sheepish smile instead and kissed her forehead. “I can only take half the credit—Connor keeps us in line.”

Connor joined them a little while later, with his own mug of cocoa and a half-melted marshmallow, and they watched the snow pile up around their tiny cabin. Completely detached from the rest of the world—but somehow, for the first time in years, Risa didn't feel that same loneliness that always seemed to creep in when the frost did.

Connor and Hayden were not the entire reason why her outlook had started to change. It helped, though, that they had been there for the past few years. It helped that Hayden kept her distracted and Connor held her during the long nights.

It seemed like winter was something she could start looking forward to. There was snow falling all around her, and for once, it wasn't suffocating.

[avirael]

Sparing you the direct side by side comparison here but I really think Nhagi’ra has a bit of Flynn Rider energy, as in he’s a charming but kind idiot. Maybe a little more silly/clumsy than Flynn 🤭

Imagine him just walking by and seeing a woman attacked by some monster. Of course he heroically rushes to her help just that he slips/trips, falls down down a ravine or something and breaks his leg.

Meanwhile said woman (who can absolutely save herself) chases away the monster on her own and finds him stuck and whining.

Still he immediately puts on his most self-assured, charming face to impress her, which pathetically fails of course.

I Imagine it goes like this:

“Can you walk?”

“Of course I ca- Aaaah! - No! No, I can’t…”

“Alright, let me help you…”

[faaun]

Jack Marsh (2005), Friendship Otherwise - Toward a Levinasian Description of Personal Friendship

[helloleed]

+7

[candycryptids]

😇- What's their best trait?

👿- What's their worst trait?

for Tuesday and Chuu

“Miss Chuu’s best trait? Mmm… You said this is an interview for your retelling of the Warriors of Light and their journey, right? I’d say it’s her unshakeable resolve. She decides she’s going to do something, and she doesn’t give up until it’s done. Ah… I’m not allowed to speak more on Miss Chuu without her presence, my apologies, mister Levraut.”

“You broke into my house,”

“Your lovely wife let me in actually,”

“To wake me up from my nap and interrogate me on my assistant,”

“Interview, Mademoiselle, not interrogate. Though I am sorry for waking you, your eyes were open so I assumed-”

“Ah-ta-ta. You wanted to know Two’s best trait right? Adaptability. Any environment, any obstacle… he’s got brains enough to figure the way through most anything. And failing that? He knows a top notch engineer in Magitek to kit him with the right tools to overcome his few shortcomings. Hey wait did you fucking call me a mad gazelle, you lop-eared scab?!”

“Thank you for your time, both of you. I have just one more question before I consider this interview complete and I let you both go back to your.. erm, busy schedules. What would you say is each others weakest trait?”

“I knew it! This IS an interrogation! Two, don’t-”

“Ah, that would be Miss Chuu’s paranoia, mister Levraut. Most of her other traits net positive gain,”

“Watch your mouth, Two.”

“That is.. ah, her paranoid trait has served to pull her out of many situations she would have landed in had they not afforded her foresight and caution to approach most situations.”

“Two’s worst trait is how I just can’t seem to keep mad at him when he finds and exploits loopholes in whatever rules I’ve set for him. And last week I asked him to bring me lunch, and he was nowhere to be seen for nearly six bells.”

“… Miss Chuu, if I may, you were in Azys La, and you called me via Linkpearl to bring you specifically egg sandwiches from the Bismark, even utilizing the Aethernet it takes time… and when I arrived at your last marked location you were nowhere to be found.”

[Duo Oc Ask Meme !]

[entriprises]

glimpses at bradley & carole over the years but specifically a handful of moments around one cass elliot song that has played without end through his entire childhood.

the radio bounces off of the increasingly empty walls of the military apartment that up until now bradley has known as home. he’s four, he won’t really remember it, and for the moment the excitement of boxes and sorting is much more captivating than the confusion he has about where they’re going. 

“oh don’t even even bother with none of that. he’s growing like a weed.” carole’s voice is soft into the end of the phone. in her hands she twists the cord looking out at bradley who’s climbing onto a stack of boxes. “bradley!” phone left to dangle, no longer supported by her shoulder and head, she shrieks and catches his arm before he gets any further— god forbid he falls through them, causes them to topple, or whatever else. it’s the last thing either of them need right now.

bradley’s head turns with a small yelp as he wriggles against the hold she has on him. it’s a futile effort. carole has him. 

with a small toy plane in one hand he waves it through the air. “it’s like the movie!” she picks him up with both arms, holding him on his hip as he protests with mumbles of wanting to reenact some movie scenes that’s taken over his young mind. she can’t figure out for the life of her what movie this could be— it might not even be a real one. 

“the boxes aren’t for climbing!” carole continues to huff out frustration and grief, heading back towards the abandoned phone. “you almost gave me a heart attack!” 

“i wanted to get to the top and then throw the plane!”

“bradley-“ she yanks the phone back up by the cord, her mother on the end having already caught the gist of the moment. “ma you still there?”

what lasts of their conversation is another minute of carole trying to soothe her mother’s nerves, that she doesn’t need anymore help, that she doesn’t need her parents to make a trip out— and just when she feels as though she’s about to start yelling at her, bradley comes in as a saving, annoying grace with his jet sounds. a loud woooosh is blown right up against carole’s ear, and she abruptly puts an end to the call. that all about ends how long she’s willing to keep holding the ambitious kid too. bradley’s feet touch the ground and he takes off running, the toy plane soaring through the air by his hand. 

letting out a long sigh, she leans against the wall, head thunking against it. the sound of a cass elliot song starts to flood the space. reaching behind her, she cranks the radio volume up. carole takes the moments she’s given to bring her rising temper down. humming turns to singing, and she turns the dial even more. 

“that’s loud!” bradley appears, little hands cupped over his ears. 

she moves off the wall to approach, “but you’ve gotta make your own kind of music!” 

the car radio dial is turned far to the right under carole’s fingertips, and bradley rolls up the window with the same speed as which his mom cranks the sounds of cass eliot’s make your own kind of music, singing along already at her own top volumes. he’s eight, sitting behind the passenger seat he’s longing for permission to finally start sitting in, and starting to turn red in his ears with embarrassment. 

“oh come on!” carole’s arm swings out to try and squeeze any part of bradley that she can grab, with him pushing his legs up against the car door to avoid just that. 

he swears the song is only popular and kept alive by his mom— and he would even believe that she might be calling into the stations requesting it at least once a month just to keep torturing him like this. 

“even if nobody else sings along,” the broom tilts in her hand, carole leaning as far right as she can without falling over. she’s a little winded as she stands back up straight on her feet, with bradley standing no more than a foot away to pull the broom turned microphone away from her. 

his mom is moving just a bit slower than usual during the sunday cleaning routine and he is just past the age of eleven, itching for a chance to get to the mall and meet up with a couple of school friends. he’s impatient, and oddly productive, going from room to room and speeding through every chore carole could possibly throw at him. he’s vacuumed the living room, his room, hell even hers. he’s wiped down the bathroom counters, dusted— though bradley has little idea of what this chore actually entails and has mostly just wiped a rag across surfaces— and he’s even cleaned his room. 

“can we please go now?”

“you’re gonna be nowhere...” she cups his face, singing softly, as he pulls his face away to instead place the car keys in one of her hands.

“or i could be at the mall!” he doesn’t know how to urge her more than he already has, but he thinks as long as he moves towards the door then she’ll follow, and of course carole does but not without more singing.

“you gotta… make your own…” a line of red is drawn across carole’s lips with her lipstick. “kind of music.” she’s a couple steps behind the song, with a long stare in the mirror that answers the question that’s only just begun formulating in her mind. the shade just doesn’t go. bradley doesn’t get it— not when she reaches for a tissue and wipes it all off and not when she explains to him it’s too bold for what she has picked out. he thinks the red is a fun color on his mom. carole thinks so too. 

he’s leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, and lips pushed together in a line. his discomfort is written all over him. carole can’t miss it though all her attention is on the new subtler lipstick in hand. “just say it.”

“say what?” fourteen, a star student, and yet bradley’s clueless as to how she constantly knows before he does that he wants to speak.

“say whatever it is you want to say.” the lipstick is perfectly applied, even though she sways through it all. 

his shoulders shrug up, eyes heading only in one direction— the collection of framed photos on carole’s dresser. the centermost one is of course the one it has been for years, his parents wedding day. flatly, he tells her, “i don’t have anything to say,” except that he does.

“then quit makin’ that face before you’re stuck that way-” 

“is it the same guy?” his words blurt out before she’s done and the hum and dance she’d been up to fizzles out. 

she pushes her feet instead into a pair of shoes, digging deep to admit to him, “yes, as a matter of fact, and his name is james.” when she looks up, and she’s met with his wide eyes, she adds a more gentle statement to her answer, “it’s just a date, brad.”

“your millionth one.” bradley’s not certain what the feeling he has is, but something makes his words a little sour.

“it is not our millionth one, it’s our…” she has to count on her fingers, totaling with a shrug and her hands landing on his arms. they move up and down trying to soothe him. “it’s our eighth which hardly means anything baby, i’m not bringing him home you can calm down.” he’s looking up at her, though carole knows it won’t be for much longer that he does that. her baby is getting tall, and he’s growing up, and it’s never more obvious than when he pulls his head away from her when she tries to fix his hair. 

there’s a small groan as he asks, “you’ll be home by eleven?” 

“eleven? i’m not bringing him home, but i still want to have fun!” her shoulders wiggle in a dance and he doesn’t have to say anything, but his face comes together in such a perfect disgust that it tells her exactly how grossed out he is by any sort of implication there is. she doesn’t hide her laugh. “i won’t be later than twelve. you should be asleep by ten thirty anyways.”

“mm-kay.” he agrees because it’s not something that’s up for debate— she’s always been serious about bedtimes, except when a new episode airs a little later than usual one week or when she’s roped him into some expedition for milkshakes. and though he likely won’t be asleep till the door closes behind her upon her return, bradley would rather she believe he’s giving in to this. “have fun.”

pushing off the doorway, he’s caught in a quick kiss to the cheek that he returns though with much less gusto on his part. it’s a small goodnight before he’s off to his room to finish homework, and carole continues chasing after the rhythm of the same song for at least another five minutes. her singing is always somehow behind, and from the safety of his room bradley can hear the poorly timed lyrics as his mother sings out: “sing your own special song!”

sitting under a banner that reads: happy retirement, bradley’s wide eyes are searching for carole or even pete through the clumps of family friends and complete strangers. he’s not unlike a couple of the other teenagers and kids who have been dragged to the celebration— awkwardly passing time and unsure of how to interact with each other. these aren’t cousins, childhood friends, or schoolmates. these are kids bradley’s seen maybe twice in his life before and absolutely none of them have a lick in common except that all their parents know the man retiring that the party is for.

that’s not to say he hasn’t found some way to enjoy the party— he has. it’s full of navy members, all with great advice for him as he keeps his sights set on the naval academy. though admittedly he is growing a little tired of the questions about his future. those are all the questions he’s been getting these days, along with ones about how his mom is really doing. 

it’s exactly the conversation he’s trapped in as he searches for her. 

“those are all quite the ways away,” aileen’s voice drips with judgment over his list of potential colleges— backups, that he promised his mom he’d apply to, “y’know from your mom.” she doesn’t need to add the last bit. he knows exactly what she’s shaming him for, though he hardly thinks its a fair thing to put on his sixteen year old shoulders.

“they were actually her idea,” he snaps back, standing from the picnic table. all the other school name he can only rattle off because his mom’s been the one to put them in front of him. he has no interest in the university of virginia or northwestern or anything else. “yeah, so.” bradley knows he’s run out of patience for aileen or the subject of his mom’s health— she’s fine.

she’s fine for now, and there’s no greater proof of that then the fact he spots carole’s head going from side to side, excitement growing in her as she yells out over the sound of chatter and an unbelievably familiar tune coming out of the stereo. “oh i love this song!” 

bradley thinks it’s grown on him lately.

“oh honey!” carole’s arm swings around bradley’s neck, pulling him closer down towards her bed as she presses a kiss to his cheek. “thank you,” there’s another kiss, “thank you!” and another. he finally pulls away from her, taking a seat again in the chair that he’s more or less occupied for the last week beside her hospital bed. in her lap is the box of endless cd’s he’s brought from home and his cd player. he’s bought a couple of others— singers he knows she’s caught here and there over the radio that she wishes she could hear again. his entire yard work savings has gone towards them. norah jones, cher, linda ronstadt— they’re all there as she flicks through them. “since when do we have this?” pulling out one case, he shrugs, and doesn’t give her questions any real answers. bradley just soaks up the clear joy all over her face. it’s a nice change of pace from the exhaustion. “i think this is exactly what i’ve been missing.”

he smiles, a smug sort of look tugging at one side of his mouth as he digs through his backpack for his homework. he stacks on the small rollaway table his math textbook, notebook, and whole handful of pens— he never remembers to throw out the ones that no longer work— and settles in. 

it’s only when he feels fried, about an hour into his schoolwork, that he notices his mom is singing. with so many cd boxes open, and the music soft in the headphones, he hadn’t had a clue before what she’d actually put in, but maybe he should’ve. 

the hum is unmistakable. 

“but you’ve gotta make your own kind of music, sing your own special song,” his pen taps at his book, eyes completely glossing over the problems, as he mumbles the words under his breath. 

carole however isn’t as shy— though she keeps of course her environment in mind, singing no louder but with much more enthusiasm, “make your own kind of music, even if nobody else sings along.” by then, both of their head are bopping and his singing is just clear enough for her to notice. pushing one side of the headphones off her ear, she watches his overgrown hair sway from side to side. 

bradley’s still focused on the textbook, flipping pages to see just how much he has left, and of course singing along, “so if you cannot take my hand, and if you must be goin’ i will understand,” though carole lets him finish singing alone. 

[kyouka-supremacy]

Funniest ask anyone has ever sent me so far. Will love to use this as a reaction picture thank you from the bottom of my heart

[ancientrimer]

robin wright really gave everything as buttercup in hindsight. pity she didn’t have any lines to deliver

[protect-daniel-james]

Only now I got to appreciate Andrei's goal and the fact he's sluttying it up in Spain... Someone needs to color his hair Blue again!

[walterdecourceys]

i should go to bed however i am enjoying reading letterboxd reviews

[stinkyhyena9000]

Finally writing a post about this!!! Here's my ideas for a FutureAU for Sing

Note: by future, I just mean like a generation future, not like time travel future. (~20 years in the future)

So starting off, tw// for major character death, suicide

Almost all your faves are still alive thankfully. Also it does get incredibly angsty near the end, so have fun with that.

ALSO also, yes this does have shipping in it.

So first of all, this takes place like 20 years after the events of Sing 2 and the whole Redshore City incident. Buster Moon and Eddie Noodleman have finally retired. (Thank god no one has to put up with Buster's shenanigans anymore.) Also yes, they are finally a happy married couple, because of course they are.

Johnny is now the person who runs the theatre, with Buster kind of serving as his mentor, and his source of guidance whenever he needs help. The New Moon Theatre is now under Buster's name as opposed to Nana Noodleman's name. Why? You could probably guess. (She's dead). Oh yeah, you know who's also dead? Miss Crawly. They both had like super sad deaths, and died peacefully of age.

Oh yeah, there is also more death than this, but I'm saving that for the end.

I also honestly like to think Ryan took a dip in photography, so he also does that for the theatre. Go Ryan!

Anyways, Johnny runs the New Moon Theatre with the help of Nooshy and Ryan as well. Nooshy works as the choreographer, meanwhile Ryan is committed to being a malewife kinda acts as a new Miss Crawly + extra choreographer teacher if Nooshy is out. Johnny and Ryan definitely are together though by the way, and Nooshy teases them all the time for it still.

Oh yeah also in case it needed to be stated: yes, Johnny is stressed out all of the time (like usual), except also now he's constantly worried about his father and gang now. Despite their age and Johnny repeatedly offering to finance their retirement, they refuse to retire and continue running their mechanic business.

Buster and Eddie live in a new house, but Buster will occasionally convince Eddie to let him sleep nights at the theatre under the guise of "helping Johnny out for the day". Eddie does realize what Buster's try to pull, but let's him go with it because he knows it helps with his anxiety, since Buster can struggle to sleep sometimes without the familiar sounds of the theatre.

So where's Meena? Meena is currently on tour, much to the delight of her and her parents. She's a world renowned soul singer, and travels around with the husband Alfonso. Alfonso doesn't serve icecream anymore, but still cooks for them and acts as a handyman and stuff for Meena when they're on tour. They of course still make time to come back to the theatre every so often again, though.

Ash and Clay? Well, after the multiple reruns of Out of This Worlds, the two of them have been on tour for a years, before Ash decided to come back and crash at the theatre recently… without Clay. She always kinda reluctant to say what happened to Clay, with her story changing every time. First, it's that he got signed into a new record deal without her. Next thing you know, it's because he decided he wanted to go back to Redshore and focus on bettering himself mentally.

(By the way, Clay started therapy after the events of Redshore. Buster did too, thankfully).

In fact, this phantom has started haunting Clay only a few years after Ruby died. It just shows up randomly, serving as a grim reminder of who he's lost.

Okay so quick warning. Remember when I said it was gonna get angsty. Oh yeah, it's about time to get real angsty.

So basically, Clay killed himself a few years into touring with Ash. Let's just say therapy was not enough for the hell he was forced to go through mentally. Remember that ghost of Ruby during the performance of Out of This World? That's not new.

(That's why I'm calling this an AU, because this is less of a hc and more of a story idea)

Bonus: me writing down notes in my anatomy class ↓↓

┏╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗

What structures are found within the muscle fiber

a. terminal cisternare ✓

b. sarcoplasmic reticulum ✓

c. myofibrils ✓

d. epimysium ✓

e. aponeurosis

f. triad ✓

g. t-tubule ✓

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝