#in the anime they're straight-up garish

[sage-reads-things]

This is the first color art I've seen of the Yozakuras, so let's talk colors! Specifically, hairstyles. I gotta admit, I was surprised by the official hair colors. In my head, I was picturing Shinzo and Shion with coppery/auburn hair, and I pictured Futaba's hair as white blonde, not straight up bone-white. I'm happy to have correctly guessed Kengo's bright yellow hair, at least—he just feels blond lol. I also pictured Taiyo and Mutsumi having black hair, so I was surprised when they turned out to have red and blue, respectively.

I'm a little mixed on the hair colors tbh. I like that all the siblings are color-coded, but part of me feels like it's a little too much—I mean, siblings having wildly different hair colors AND it's all super bright anime colors like green and purple feels like overkill. I also feel like the excess of clashing colors can overwhelm the eyes when you put the Yozakuras all together in a group shot like this.

That being said, I do like the characterization tied up in the colors. Kyoichiro being the only child to have black hair feels very poignant, especially since he always wears black suits that make him look gaunt and ghoulish. I like the contrast between Kyoichiro (black) and Futaba (white), and the yin-yang element at play with Taiyo (red) and Mutsumi (blue). And I just looooove Nanao's cyan bucket-helmet, since it's a) fitting for the baby of the family and b) a good color for him.

I'm still not sold, but I can already feel the colors growing on me, so maybe it's just a matter of getting used to it *shrugs*

[creelsclocks]

CREEL'S CLOCKS CHAPTER 5.

Summary: Halloween is a month-long affair, 001. We've been over this. Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, mentions of animal cruelty, mild gore.

Eddie rests his chin atop the fence's wooden post. "Look at all those pumpkins, man."

001 looks at them. Pumpkins are strange round orange things that he's never seen before, and this field is further out than either of them have thought to go together. Behind the trailers and through the woods, rolling pastures and farmlands lay, a winding dirt road leading straight through the middle and, presumably, out of Hawkins. Sometimes, the boy thinks to slip out of whatever house he's hiding in for the night and follow that dizzy bend into the great unknown. He has no home, not really. He'd be leaving little behind.

"I am seeing them," he replies belatedly, voice flat while Eddie's trembles with tangible excitement. "You really want to take one?"

"We gotta." That's all Eddie says as he hoists himself up and over the tall wooden gate, a wide grin on his face as his sneakers hit the dirt on the other side. “C’mon. Now you.”

001 stares at him through a gap in the fence before his eyes flit to the side. There’s a moment of silence, and then the gate’s latch unfastens, opening with a slowly rising creak.

Eddie deadpans. “Showoff.”

Shoes are things that 001 is still adjusting to. The slip-ons at Hawkins Lab were more like socks, and the moment he’d touched ground that wasn’t pristine linoleum, he’d realised that they were about as thin as a sheet of paper. Much like his caretakers in that place, they’d shielded him from nothing. Conversely, Gareth’s old trainers that he’d dug out of his closet for him are thick and roomy, and the rubbery soles that protect his feet also threaten to trip him up as they traverse through the field. The uneven terrain annoys him

“Remind me why we are doing this,” 001 mutters, trying not to sound too rueful. It's only grass.

"Halloween."

"It is October 10th."

"Halloween is a month-long affair, my friend. We've been over this."

Eddie had spared him no detail when it came to coercing him into coming along to steal a pumpkin to serve as this year's jack-o-lantern. Just two hours ago, 001 hadn't even known there was a holiday this month; now he knows about scary movies and trick-or-treating and jack-o-lanterns — all things that Eddie has promised him hands-on experience with. He'd even said he felt he'd be 'good' at trick-or-treating, for he could use his powers to play tricks on people that were stingy with candy.

They walk into the main field, garish orange blinding their vision. Fall is a wonderful season, ripe with colour and temperatures that please 001 greatly, but this is a different kind of bright. A visual overstimulation that is most unpleasant.

"Why must you steal it?"

"We don't have the money," Eddie replies, his eyes scanning the field eagerly, intent on picking out the best one. "Or rather, we can afford a pumpkin, but I don't want Uncle Wayne to shell out to buy one that we're not gonna eat." He levels the other with a dubious look, eyebrow raised in silent challenge. "You care about stealing?"

"Not particularly. I have stolen a lot of food and water just to survive. But I thought it would be easier just to buy one from the store."

"Sure, it's easier. But it's more fun this way."

001 can't argue with that. He'd had little choice in the matter– before he found Eddie, he'd raided several convenience stores and supermarket aisles just to keep from starving, though he'd only taken things he recognised– but he'll concede that it tops standing in a queue and handing over what little pocket change Eddie has. As if they're not poor enough without capitalism draining the boy's pathetic four-dollar savings.

Their journey takes longer than 001 anticipated, and now they're in the centre of this field that seems to stretch on forever. In the distance, to his left, he notices a little house. It's a single story cottage-looking deal, with what looks to be a wooden fence surrounding the property.

"Somebody lives here?" He doesn't often get nervous, but the idea of crossing paths with another adult has apprehension curdling in his gut. More people to see him. More chances to identify him.

"Farmer Callahagn," Eddie replies with a nod. "I mean, somebody's gotta grow this shit, right? You thought it'd be empty?"

001's mouth presses into a thin line, gaze lingering on the house before Eddie's hand resting on his forearm realigns his focus. By now, he's learned not to flinch in the wake of his touchy nature. It's harmless. His skin still crawls, though.

"It'll be fine, dude. We'll be in and out, like an uncle at Thanksgiving."

001 makes a face. Given Eddie's uncouth nature, he can't make heads or tails of whether that was a very inappropriate joke or not. This only serves to amuse the other, a wicked grin on his face as he waltzes further into the pumpkin patch.

Eddie takes his time examining them, as if he's a connoisseur in all things fruit, before he spots one that makes him gasp and point. It's considerably larger than most they've seen, fat and ridged in a manner that's so aesthetically pleasing that even 001 feels slightly mystified. He never knew things that came from the soil could grow this large.

"Holy shit!" he exclaims through a laugh, his fingers curling in the back of 001's shirt. "This is it, man. This is the winner."

The boy watches resolutely as Eddie squares his feet, rocking back and forth on his heels before locking his hands around the desired pumpkin. With a strained sound, he tries to pick it up — and then quickly gives up.

“Damn, this thing’s heavy.”

“What did you expect? It’s huge. And you haven’t even freed it from its vine yet.”

001 squats, hands feeling along the pumpkin’s outer shell before he secures the vine in his fist. It’s thicker than he anticipated it being, vaguely rubbery in texture, and he doubts he can tear it with his strength alone. It's a job for shears — or a psychically gifted child. With a look of concentration, he stares at the thick green rope, envisioning it splitting, and it gives way with a sharp qwick!

“Try now.”

He backs up as Eddie takes centre stage once more. With planted feet and squared shoulders, he just about manages to lift it from the floor. Just about.

“You might have to help me with this one, man.” The strain in his voice is tangible, as is his smile.

001 sighs. “You’re quite foolish. You know that, yes?”

“Yeah.” Eddie beams as if a pretty girl has just called him cute. “Now let’s get outta here, before Old Macdonald shows up.”

“I thought his name was Callahagn?”

“Figure of speech.”

With 001 beside him to lessen the load, the comically large pumpkin becomes less of a burden. As they trudge slowly through the thick mud, they talk about what they can carve into it. 001 seems to think a typical face will do just fine, though naturally Eddie wants to go all out. A goat, he yells, impervious to his friend’s cringe. A goat DEMON!

The suggestion speaks to him in a way he doesn’t entirely like. He wonders if it’s because a handful of the orderlies at Hawkins Lab described him as such an entity. ‘Demon’ and ‘psycho’ had been their favourite descriptors — and after the things he’s done, he doesn’t know if he can say that they’re all that unfair.

[ “Let go, you little psycho!” The taste of copper in his mouth, a chunk of worthless meat sitting heavily atop his tongue. He spits it out before he can think to swallow it. It lands by Papa’s perfectly polished shoe. ]

001 shakes his head, and the memory dissipates like smoke.

“What do you think, One?”

“Huh?”

“About a—”

“HEY!”

Both boys halt, the harsh, unfamiliar voice prompting them to slowly turn around. On the porch of the little house stands an old man with a scraggly beard and a dishevelled head of greying hair. He’s clad in unfastened overalls and a stained white shirt, only one boot pulled on. A rifle is clutched tight in his right hand. A jolt of adrenaline passes through 001 at the sight of the weapon, brow furrowing as he looks hurriedly at Eddie.

He’s grinning like a maniac, arm reeling as he thrusts his middle finger up at the farmer.

“Finders keepers!” he hollers, tongue stuck out with an audible BLEH.

Some of that confidence wears off when the man descends his steps in a flurry of motion, gun aimed in their vague direction. It doesn’t occur to 001 that he’d never actually fire it at a couple of kids; he’s already turned tail, begun running, the pumpkin in Eddie’s arms becoming all the lighter as he hones his powers in order to make a quick getaway.

Why wouldn’t he shoot them? The fact that he’s a child has never mattered to anyone before.

A deafening crack sounds to their distant left, and though the bullet flies wide, nowhere close, all 001 can think about is how he feels as if he’s about to be shot. He may not feel much of a desire to live, but he doesn’t want to bleed out in a nobody’s mud, alone and in pain. It takes him back to how he’d breached the main door of the lab upon his escape— and how he’d barely had time to take a gulp of fresh, outdoor air before beginning his mad dash to the grounds’ main gate, bullets and darts tipped with god only knows what sedatives sailing over his head. That’s the fastest he’s ever run in his life, but he feels as if there’s time for that to change. He’s young, and he lives in a world that wants to eat him alive.

Impossibly, he runs faster, Eddie’s excited whooping adding to the ache blooming between his eyes. Blood drips from his nose, eyes deadset on the quickly approaching fence. Don’t lose focus, he tells himself sternly. If you lose focus, all will be lost. You’ll trip. You’ll drop the pumpkin. You’ll get a bullet in your spine. Uncle Wayne will lose a child.

“Get back here!”

“Shit!” Eddie exclaims, hands naturally scrabbling for purchase when the pumpkin suddenly flies out of his grip, launched up and over the fence by an invisible force. It lands with a dull thud several feet away, both boys scrambling up and over the gate before charging into the woods, prize in tow.

Surrounded by trees and pine needles, 001 finally feels the exhaustion take over. All at once, he staggers to a stop, then drops to his hands and knees, and the pumpkin in Eddie’s arms becomes too heavy to carry, bringing him to a halt too. Gulps of air are taken in greedily, crimson dripping steadily onto the dirt. He’s tired. His limbs ache. His chest is tight. Using his powers is one thing, but running for his life on top of that? There’s only so far adrenaline stretches before it becomes terror.

“Shit, dude—” Eddie’s hand settles on his back as he watches 001 pant through the heavy flow. He reaches into his back pocket, a black bandana decorated with skulls withdrawn before he begins to mop him up. The blood soaks through. “I didn’t know this’d screw you up this bad.”

“I am just tired—” He pauses to spit blood into the grass, the glob thick and red, and is wholly unsure how to explain himself. “I’m okay.”

How many times had he assured Papa of the same thing, even when he was completely exhausted?

The way Eddie rubs his back gently is soothing, even if it makes his skin prickle. As his heartbeat slows and his world comes back into focus, he finds the strength to stand up on his knees. He glances at his worried friend, then the comically large pumpkin. Then, he chuckles. It feels distinctly as if he’s cheated death, and the high that comes with doing so was simply late, not missing. Eddie’s eyebrows shoot upwards with evident surprise, though it doesn’t take long for him to join in. He has a stitch in his right side. The laughter isn’t helping.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you can run like that, given your circumstances, but I am. I really am. You and your fuckin’— noodle limbs.” More laughter, breathless and silly. “You were like a rocket on steroids, man.”

“Rockets don’t have limbs,” 001 replies pointedly, head tipped back towards the sky, his breathing now level. The taste of metal lingers in the back of his throat. He’s not even going to ask what ‘steroids’ are. In this moment, he cares about nothing but the feeling of triumph.

“Whatever.” He reaches out to drag the pumpkin into his lap. He expected there to be some damage post-launch, but it doesn’t look any worse for wear. 001 must have used his wizardry to keep it from impacting the ground with too much force. “You were awesome. That guy must’ve been shitting his pants.”

001 glances at him, brow furrowed. He’s never really been praised for his abilities before. Despite them being coveted, he was reminded time and time again that they didn’t make him special, or above the rules. As if he misheard: “I was awesome…?”

Eddie grins wide, leaning back on his hands. “Truly metal, man.”

He pauses a moment, as if unsure what to make of the praise, before he mimics the gesture Eddie had performed in the field.

"What is this?" he asks, eyes drawing focus to his middle finger.

"You're telling me to fuck off, man."

Immediately, 001 stops doing it, fingers curled into a fist that he then holds protectively to his chest. Oops.

In the end, they're able to lug the pumpkin back to the Munson trailer. It currently sits on the table, just waiting to be gutted and carved into. However, before Eddie sinks his blade in, he wants a good idea of the design. That sees them at his desk in the bedroom, flipping through one of Eddie's sketchbooks together.

"You're good at art," 001 says, his stoic tone not lending itself well to the compliment.

"Thanks. I draw a lot for DnD." And during lessons. He'd often rather die than actually do any sort of maths. "I'm telling you, man, you should join in some time. I think you'd be good at it."

They've spoken briefly about DnD, given that it's such a big part of Eddie's life, but 001 doesn't know the first thing about it, and he's slightly intimidated by the sheer amount of rules. He tends to be good at guideline-heavy games— chess being a key example of this— but he's not sure if he can manage both the terms of service and high fantasy improv. He should probably learn the contents of the real world before attempting to commit a fictional one to memory.

"Maybe," he replies, his voice toneless, noncommittal. His finger points at one of the drawings that catches his eye. It's a cluster of bats flying in a downward arch. They're emerging from fork lightning. "I like that."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"I love bats," Eddie says with a grin. "They're so cool."

001 thinks about this for a moment. His relationship with animals in general is poor, given some of the things he'd been forced to do while being trained.

[ There is nothing to be nervous about, 001. Animals don't feel pain. Not like humans do. How can that be, Papa? They are not sentient in the same way that we are. They don't have the same capacity to hurt. ]

It had made so much sense to him when he was seven.

Hissing cats and skittering rats flash in his mind's eye, and it takes him screwing his eyes shut to have the images disperse. He doesn't want to think of all the poor creatures that he harmed under the guise of it being harmless. Psycho.

"I like spiders," he replies belatedly, voice slightly tighter than before. "I draw them a lot, too."

"You can draw?" Eddie is clearly intrigued by that. Every day, he learns something new about this strange boy. The more pieces of the puzzle that he's given, the more that he genuinely likes him. He can be odd at times, certainly, but hell— they're all freaks here. "Show me."

"Okay." Without much hesitation, 001 plucks a pencil from the desk and begins to draw a Black Widow spider in a free space on the page. He takes his time, each stroke methodical, until he’s left a fairly detailed depiction in the corner.

Eddie gawks at it for a moment before looking up at him with a grin. “Whoa! You’re good, too.”

He adds a single string, giving it the illusion that it’s hanging from the top of the page, and 001’s mouth twitches in the form of a slight smile.

Then, he's struck by an idea.

“Oh… what about…” Quickly, he draws a crude sketch of the spider he’d drawn before, then Eddie’s bats below them. The fork lightning crawls upwards until it connects with the spider web he’s drawn, successfully combining the two images together. “What about this, for the jack-o-lantern?”

Eddie stares at the image in silence for several seconds before slamming his hands on the desk. 

“That’s the winner,” he declares with a bright grin. In truth, he probably shouldn’t be this excited to do it. It’s full of jagged edges and sharp corners, hell to navigate with a blunt kitchen knife, and yet all he can focus on is the fact that they did it together. “It’s gonna look awesome.”

“Metal,” 001 ‘corrects’, his plain tone oddly endearing — so much so that Eddie is left beaming.

“Yeah. Metal.”

[companionwolf]

for the ask game - 1 3 7

Hi Squeaker-- thank-you for the ask. Me and Wolf will answer; Wolf's OCs are first, followed by mine. - !

1. are they associated with a certain color? what color do they wear the most?

Morden - black and yellow black and yellow-- [I am killed by the Xenomorph]; as for what he wears, darker and cooler colors mostly

McAllister - burnt orange; I like to think he wears earthy tones and like. Beige, gray, tan, etc-- natural colors mainly

///

December - This is a interesting question. I associate December with darker wintry colors, dark blues and light ice tones, if that makes sense. As for what he wears? Blacks, dark browns, maybe a accessory with a pop of a lighter neutral color.

September - yellows, but duller; I believe September has a very eccentric taste, and it's much a guessing game as to what he wears day to day. It would amuse me for him to frequent strange outfits and garish colors, though.

October - dark red, like a fallen leaf; I think they have a color pallette that could be called ''autumncore' so browns and tans and some orange and such.

March - a much brighter red than October; I think it wears muted warm colors, there is a specific image in my head of it in a dark unflashy red sweater.

2. weapon of choice? any particular reason they chose their weapon?

Morden - is 'running' a weapon? if he has to pick, firearms; I don't have a reason picked out... yet. I should, he's got a decent score in Ranged Combat.

McAllister - is 'the environment' an answer? he likes to take advantage of the terrain and improvise weapons if straight up brawling isn't advisable; I'm thinking this has leanings toward him not considering himself entirely human (he's a coyote therian) and so he's like 'what use gun when self do trick?'

///

December - Pistol. He just finds himself most comfortable with smaller firearms, although he knows how to use knives for defense as well.

September - Forbidden magic. If you're going to make your brain bleed from learning this stuff, you may as well use it and use it well, is his philosophy.

October - Pistol, but they also don't mind fighting unarmed. They don't really have a reason.

March - "You guys can fight, I'm staying here." March tries not to go out in the field, preferring to stay behind a computer screen. If it has to, it has no real preference, although melee is satisfying to some dark part of it.

7. favorite animal? why?

Morden - rabbits; something something it's thematic and also what I assigned him as his fursona

McAllister - coyotes and lizards; coyotes because 'omg me too' and lizards because 'I just think they're neat to look at'

///

December - A dog; October actually compares him to one in multiple pieces due to his personality and general followers demeanor.

September - Is it a cop out to say a human? I can think of only humanity to be the ones to do the things September does. Edit: past me said a rat. Hm.

October - A bird, probably a corvid, due to their mischievous nature.

March - A mouse or rat, simply because of the connoation of science and from that being a 'nerd'. March would not be happy to hear you call it that, though. Edit: past me actually assigned March a fox, which is a interesting choice.

[olderthannetfic]

Can confirm, as a fan of anime and who's done some research for fic, the stereotype for a gay man I usually see isn't a feminine twink, it's a cartoonishly buff man wearing garish make-up, loud clothing, and with visible stubble, exaggeratedly feminine body language, and usually making aggressive passes at men (especially younger, "obviously straight" men) because "oh no! this man is propositioning to our straight character and not taking no as an answer! what a pervert!" and then everyone makes shocked faces. Once you start noticing it's hard not to. Like, look at the entire character of Puri-Puri Prisoner from One-Punch Man who's entire theme and design is "gay superhero who's in prison for sexually assaulting guys" for an example and you'll get a good idea. The only character type in Japanese media or (anime at least) I have seen even infrequently that holds some vague resemblance to the "feminine = predatory homosexual" stereotype we have in the West are characters like Orochimaru or Hisoka who are rather slim, androgynous character's and who's sadism and obsession with often young male characters can cross into sounding kind of sexual at time but... I honestly don't think that's how they were intended to come across. They're just meant to be creeps.

(tbh the make-up and feminine or loud clothing combined with obviously masculine traits such as stubble or muscles in a way clearly meant to inspire discomfort or amusement reminds me of a lot of negative stereotypes in the West against trans women)

--

Are you simplifying this for my benefit?

The stereotype we were talking about previously was the sort of thing you'd expect to see in gei komi. That tends to be more like a chubby bear with a buzz cut.

The stereotype you mention above is of an "okama" and is found more in mainstream anime aimed at a presumed straight audience. I'll reblog satans-tiddies' famous post after this.