Then the SecUnit said, "They're coming. You have to go." [...] The SecUnit's voice was different from Three's. A different tissue batch, maybe. (System Collapse, chapter 10)

ummm hello can we talk about this?? mb thinks it's notable that not all barish-estranza secunits have the same voice. there are tissue batches, which i knew was a possibility because if you can clone human tissue once presumably you can clone that same tissue/dna more than once, as that is what cloning is all about lol, but...the implications this has?? how many other company units are there out there who are from the same tissue batch as mb?

Okame’s Underbelly: Anticipation |1st|

(Shinso x OC)

Katsumi's POV (localvillageidiot#0870) and Shinso's POV (hecker#8339)

Summary:

 Two people with a common passion meet unexpectedly during one of Shinso's lowest moments. He'd like to forget it ever happened but Katsumi has her own reasons for not letting it go. Through push and pull, they struggle to understand one another, regardless they can't keep away from each other.

Preview: 

| How long have I been staring at myself in the fucking mirror? My eyes look so dead...but don’t they always. I realized the extra lifelessness wasn’t due to my overall apathy or shitty eyeliner; it was due to them being red and puffy. That’s no good. I hurriedly searched through the cabinet for my eye drops. They were usually used for another purpose, but today, they’ll be used to disguise the fact that I had been crying. |

(Katsumi's POV)

My head fell forward for the millionth time as I struggled to stay awake for the last five minutes of my summer remedial science lab. Why does science have to be so boring? This fucking professor always lectures for the full three hours too. How could someone possibly have this much to say about chlorophyll? All I could do was watch the clock tick by until, finally, the class was dismissed. I gathered my things as quickly as possible and headed towards my dorm building. Throwing my things onto the kitchen table, I immediately started to strip and headed towards the bathroom. The silver lining in having to come to campus in the summer for my remedial class? Getting to move in early and having the whole suite to myself. I showered quickly and put on my typical Friday night attire: some broken-in mom jeans that I embroidered and had a friend paint on paired with a comfortable faded band t-shirt I had stolen from a partner I had long forgotten the name of, tucked and held in place with some old belt I fished out of a Good Will bin a few years ago. I hummed as I put on some clear lipgloss and touched up my hair. Perfect. I made sure to set out some dinner for my fat cat who was hiding somewhere in my bedroom, likely in my sheets. For a supposed emotional support animal, I never saw much of her unless she was in the mood to cuddle, which was usually at night.

“Harley, I’m going out. I’ll be back.” I called out.

She meowed from the bed in response. I grabbed my things from the table and tossed them into my bedroom before popping my headphones in and heading out the door. I was on my way to the only place that made my summer Fridays bearable: The Squeaky Wheelhouse.

After a short while, I walked up to a dark and disheveled, yet oddly charming, building. This was my hidden gem, the highlight of my college career, a place where artists gathered to share their work and critique the world around them without fear. Friday nights were open mic nights for spoken word poetry, which I didn’t think I would like until I heard Okame perform. Their words about the plights of the world of heroism and comic book celebrities brought to life really resonated with me. Most of their pieces were critiques on how heroes navigate their jobs and how they are treated by the government, the people, and each other. I admired the way they captured the duality of appreciating heroes for what they are while also not feeling a need to bow to them as if they were gods. It felt so real to me, especially because around the same time I first heard their work, I had started my photojournalism blog on a similar topic. It was really just a love project at first. I would take pictures of heroes in the heat of battle and use them to show how human they really are. Honestly, I'm not even sure if it was me or my quirk that had the idea first. My hyperempathology quirk sometimes had a mind of its own. It was always dragging me into situations that I had no business being in. I always ended up manipulating someone's emotions to make them feel better, which had positive and negative results. On the one hand, I was glad that I could make someone feel better. On the other hand, it made me feel like shit because not only did I manipulate someone’s emotions without permission; I also absorbed the negative emotions I had alleviated. In a strange sense, the blog was my own way of alleviating myself of what I had alleviated. I had never expected it to take off either, but there I was, a month later, still taking pictures of heroes in their most desperate and vulnerable state in an effort to humanize them. I kept at it because, well, they are people after all. They aren’t gods, they have emotions, but the way the media and the government build a hero’s image doesn’t allow for much expression. It’s unfair to them; it's as if they aren't allowed to be people anymore. I had always thought I was alone in that, but apparently, I’m not. My blog has a pretty decent following now, which I am super proud of. Although I’m pretty sure that a lot of people in the hero community despise or at least dislike me for basically being renegade paparazzi.

Oh well. No one knows it’s me who runs the blog. The closest anyone has ever gotten was when someone traced my IP address back to the college campus, but Kyoto University has upwards of 22,000 students enrolled. There’s no way someone would be able to find me out as long as I don’t use my personal electronics to post. Okame had also become a popular performer at the Wheelhouse and had a sort of residency time slot on Friday nights. It was weird, but I was proud of them too. I felt like we were similar, almost connected by our mutual views and creative outlets. On top of that, they used a pseudonym and a ghost performer just like I used a pen name and hid my IP address for my work. All of the aligning characteristics made me think we would get along if we ever met, but that’ll probably never happen.

I walked into the building, waving to the Friday night staff that I had gotten to know over the summer. I took a seat on a comfortable looking armchair near the back corner of the main room that had a decent view of the small performance stage. I opened up a book that I brought with me to read until the performances started. I ordered a large mint tea and settled in, anticipating Okame’s latest insight.

(Shinso's POV)

I had bitten my lips raw at this point. There’s no way it’s actually over. We’ve broken up so many times before, and we’ve always managed to hash it out. But this time felt different. She wasn’t returning my texts with curt responses. She wasn’t posting about me subliminally on her social media to piss me off. She didn’t show up at my house with the gifts I had given her and dramatically throw them at me. No angry voicemails. No tears. No nothing. The strangest part was that her last text wished me well, even though I ended it this time around. All of it almost felt like a real goodbye. But still, there’s no way.

I had to talk to her tonight to make sure. Throughout our whole relationship, despite our arguing, we never missed a Friday at The Squeaky Wheelhouse. That was our way to ease the stress from the strife of the week prior. No matter how mad we were, we would still begrudgingly sit together and enjoy the show. By the end of the night, we would always manage to soften towards each other once again. Even if my piece of the week was bitterly aimed at her, she still respected me enough to put my voice out there and perform it for me. That’s what I loved about her. She knew attention made me squeamish and vulnerability was definitely not my favorite pastime. I shared the document that contained today's piece with her. It was an apology. She could barely squeeze those out of me normally, so she had to know I was deadly serious this time around. I tried not to envision her reaction or dwell on whether or not she would even accept my apology because it made me so anxious that I wanted to jump out of my skin.

How long have I been staring at myself in the fucking mirror? My eyes look so dead...but don’t they always. I realized the extra lifelessness wasn’t due to my overall apathy or shitty eyeliner; it was due to them being red and puffy. That’s no good. I hurriedly searched through the cabinet for my eyedrops. They were usually used for another purpose, but today, they’ll be used to disguise the fact that I had been crying. Save those tears for later, Shinso. She’s seen me cry even less than she’s heard me apologize. Numbness was the best blanket I’ve ever had. But tonight, I’ll avoid covering myself up. I need to show her that I care because I’m known to fucking suck at it. After I applied the drops, I roughly ran my fingers through my torturously messy violet mane, exhaling heavily. I tried to dress up a little this Friday. I know it’s trivial, but I want to be my best for her tonight. My outfit was made up of my typical dark colors, but I dressed it up with a black jean jacket, chelsea boots, and a few bulky rings that she gifted me but were too cumbersome to actually wear. What makes them even more annoying is that I’ve been fiddling with them all evening to distract myself, and let me tell you, it’s not working. I have another hour until I have to leave; I need a better distraction.

I plopped myself down on my bed with my laptop and clicked on my “The Underbelly'' bookmark. I always loved the irony of this blog served as an escape but also as a merciless glimpse into reality for me. My leg bounced as the page loaded—no new posts. Shit...well, it has only been a couple of days. I thoroughly looked forward to the new content because the author and I are eerily like-minded as far as hero ideology. Sometimes I felt as if I wrote a few of the entries myself. They’re the only person that I felt connected to on a philosophical level, and finally having that was comforting, to say the least. It was a bit taboo to criticize heroes so harshly because it was easy to be labeled as ungrateful. I’ve personally always felt like a great way to show appreciation is to continuously try to improve a system that everyone relies on. I guess people just don’t like to make sense. Hero work is honestly one of the few things I actually cared about, and to see people be so dismissive really pissed me off. Then again, people don’t really know I feel this way. I try not to let people get into my head too much. That’s why I created my Okame persona. I wanted to get my views out there without making it about myself at all. I felt it didn’t really hold true to the purpose of my message, with the whole not making hero’s these god-like figureheads simply for doing what’s right. That and...I hate when people look at me for more than a few seconds. My searing glare usually fixed that right quick. Quickly getting over the minor disappointment, I closed my laptop. Well, I didn’t have another alternative distraction, so I decided to say fuck it and head to the kitchen for some liquid courage.

I downed about two shots of rum. I was taking the bus there anyway, so it’s not like it mattered. I checked my watch, 30 more minutes. I wracked my brain for something to alleviate the unbearable anticipation as I blankly stared at the bottle of rum. Oh! I could pick up her favorite soju. It’s super strong, so we usually reserve it for a day where we don’t plan to do shit else but enjoy each other's company. But I feel like if we’re gonna hash all the bullshit out, we might need to be generously buzzed. Liquor store it is. I adjusted my collar before I headed out the door.

I decided on four bottles of the grapefruit soju because she really likes tart flavors. She always made fun of me for liking the sweeter sojus, but I’ll let her think she has the better taste tonight. The drinks were hidden away in a plastic bag tucked under my feet. I tried to settle in my seat towards the back as I checked my watch again for the fifteenth time. It was now 5 minutes after the starting time. Guess both the show and my girlfriend(?) are running late. My hands automatically began scratching at the already chipped polish on my nails. She’s been uncharacteristically calm during this fight; I wonder if she’ll stay that way once she sees me.

Senpai! Any tips on world building? :D

🌼Whooooo boy, that’s a lot of talk about Mambo X’D and I love you so I will do my best!

Worldbuilding is a lot of work and is constantly an exercise of questions and answers. A lot of times worldbuilding happens at random. I never thought that I would worldbuild half the universes I was messing with. I just have this drive to connect the dots, so to speak. It usually starts with a character for me. I will use Nova as an example since he seems to be the catalyst of my now fully fleshed out Outertale. Nova was just design at first but with every design I do, I have a need to tell a story. A lot of times people overlook the importance of clothing in their storytelling and being from that background I definitely put hints and lore into what the characters wear. 

Sometimes even scrapping old designs to fit an overall narrative later on or fitting it to that mold. I originally drew Nova in a varsity jacket and as I developed the story I realized that I either had to make that choice believable or scarp it all together. I decided that his personality would be more rambunctious and trickster like this also led me to make him based off Loki. I decided to keep his jacket because his kind of uncaring and aloof attitude toward how the Monsters conduct themselves and their traditions made him a huge contrast. He prefers comfort over symbology basically. 

The first question you have to ask is why. That is super vague but why are you making this world? What purpose does it serve? Is it something that answers questions about characters? There are four specific pillars for storytelling, plot, setting/ environment, character, and emotion. All of these are used to make a lot of the stories we see and hear today. 

Nova, my OT Sans, needed kind of a purpose. I wanted my Outertale to be different in that way. I wanted to answer the question of why the monsters would leave in the first place. It turned into a rabbit hole of constant back and forth. It doesn’t really matter where you start on these four pillars but questions are so important. I know I keep saying that but it’s true. I will give an example.

Starting with Character/Environment: Characters are important to any story. They are the ones that your readers or watchers will be attached to. They are a mirror almost. Someone relatable. Now that doesn’t mean they have to be this pure bean. I would argue that making those kinds of characters actually makes it difficult to relate to. We all mess up so having a character with flaws that overcome them are even more relatable. Not to mention it will add to the emotional component. Our responses and our social skills revolve around our environment. This includes the “mechanics” of the world and genre. 

WTU is a great example of this, though the world of Undertale is relatively well established there are a lot of loose ends. Even more so when you make a Fell variation. In order to be a little more unique with how I handle my verses, I tend to start at ground 0. The original. I will use Grillby’s as an example. Grillby Magmaran is one of my favorite side characters in the story but due to his personality and the world, he is set in I had to change some things around. The setting of WTU is odd. Most people tend to make Underfell this gritty, dark, and violent place but I wanted to add a few more... let’s say real-world layers to it.

Grillby to me was always kind of set in stone, character-wise. I wanted him to be kind of a playboy. One who just seemed to care about only his own self-interest, on the surface. A lot of characters I have “re-written” have this mold. That they can’t outwardly express what they want to because it makes them vulnerable. A vulnerability that is mirrored in the fact that Asgore doesn’t really rule over the Underworld like most think. (A side note on calling it the Underworld as well is this idea of underground and shady dealings.) The most power is actually given to three characters. The third I will stay quiet on due to spoilers but the other two are Muffet and Grillby. Each with their own industries capitalizing on the hopelessness of the inhabitants. 

 Grillby is all about vices which is why I changed his usual restaurant into a multistory nightclub and bar. A place for the monsters to blow off some steam so to speak. It also plays into his kind of sleazy outward appearance hiding behind liquor and vices. Muffet’s Black Widow Casino plays on greed. A rather fitting industry for her character since the original is also obsessed with profit. It is little things like that I would continue to dig deeper on. Why is Grillby this way? Heck, why would he stay in Snowdin? The answers sometimes take some time to really think about but it’s something I really enjoy doing. The answer I came up with was simple. Contrast. Grillby and Muffet used to have a very 1920′s don and mistress vibe in their original relationship but Muffet’s personality was a little too much to take for Grillby who fell into vices after his own grief. Snowdin vs Hotland. I think you can pick out the contrast. He wanted to be as far away from that spider as possible.    

The town of Snowdin is actually a place that monsters can find sanctuary. It is not like Undyne’s monopoly of Waterfall or Muffet's rule of Hotland, why though? Well sticking with the original source material I still wanted Papyrus to be a character that you could love even if he was a little more rough around the edges. He is Head of the Royal Guard already so that decision led me to think more about how he would use that power. He basically becomes the protector of Snowdin Town and the townspeople reward him by placing a statue of the Captain in the town square. That boosts his ego but he still has noble intentions, protection. This also adds to his character since Papyrus in my version is the older of the two brothers. The only reason he is harsh on Sans (or Red in this case) is that he knows of the cruelty outside their little town.  

This also explains why there are so many deadly traps all over the place leading into town. Very few monsters live outside the center of the town. It is his way of putting up defenses against any of the monsters that may be entering from outside the town. They have been used to kill humans, sure, but their main purpose is to create a blockade. 

I am going to kind of get on a soapbox a little bit in this so just bear with me. I think that a lot of Underfell creators do a huge disservice to the universe and its concept. *shakes head* It is one of the reasons that I decided to finally put my story into the public. It took a long time to muster up the courage to do that. Making things for the sake of darkness or edginess to me is... very... uh... how do I put this? Well, it’s a huge pet peeve of mine. Dark storytelling can be talked about effectively if the elements are there and other things balance it out. I see this a lot between Red and Boss. Specifically their relationship and how that is handled. There are plenty of stories with characters being close in a dark and harsh environment. They don’t turn into abusive a-holes. WHY!? Why would you take something like the original skele-bros and their relationship and do that? Granted. If there is some reason behind it. If there is a well thought out answer to the question of why then that is perfectly fine. What I find more and more, however, make these kinds of choices just for the sake of it. IT DRIVE ME BANANAS. 

Now I am not saying my story and verses don’t have plot holes. Most of the time when you dig deeper into a project you realize that closing one could open a few lesser ones but it just upsets me that people just randomly make these choices just for the sake of it. Shock value. There has to be a purpose. Good storytelling is about relatability and believability. Small things can sometimes take you out of it if they seem out of place. Remember that everyone goes about these kinds of creative choices differently. Mine is pretty much all question based or design-based. I am by no way saying that my way is correct. It is just something I have worked on for a very long time. I can kind of come up with my answers on the spot. 

I know I got away from this ask a little bit but I am happy that you are interested Mambo! If you want to know more specifics then just ask. There is so much more I can talk about. I was actually was asked to make a video on it so I may do that in the future. Just remember to have fun while doing it. Stories are fun to read but at the end of the day the world is yours and you should enjoy it!