CorviDoggo

𓆣 ☢ Middle Man ☢ 𓆣

Sorrel Azrael Geiger

Gamma-Burn, The Angel Of Death, Vengeance, The Wrath of the Earth

Click image to see full-size artwork

“You should be angry.”

〘 BASICS 〙

« AGE and BIRTHDAY »
25 ─ Febuary 21st

« IDENTITY »
male ─ masculine ─ he/him, they/them accepted

« STATISTICS »
5’11” ─ 131 lbs ─ B-

« ALIGNMENT »
Lawful Evil with good-aligned motivations

〘 APPEARANCE 〙

« GENERAL »
Sorrel’s appearance changed significantly since the incident— he stands out about as much as any other Numan would. His skin is the same, soft, oaken color of a fawn— a lighter brown shade, splashed with milky white patches on his face and neck. A crown of feathers frames his forehead and prominent cheekbones, most an iridescent minty teal, one patch of feathers matching the white splotches of his face with a pearly sheen. His dreadlocks, once an even coppered tone, are now green like glass bottles, platinum blond streaks built into them following that same pattern of vitiligo. Even his eyes are mismatched— one, on the milky white skin, is light blue, and the other is a green so bright it could glow. His ears are sharp and pointed up, long enough to be poking through those green dreadlocks usually tied into a loose ponytail. Whenever sorrel smiles, sharp teeth show through his plump lips, and his crooked nose crinkles a little each time he laughs.
While it may be unfair to call Sorrel spindly, he’s definitely sickly and thin, most of his shirts and sweaters bunching around him with extra fabric instead of laying neatly on top. He prefers baggy pants, ones with many pockets, and simple steel-toed work boots for everyday mishaps. Many of his pockets in his pants have bloodied tissues from him coughing on them, but he tries his best to hide them until he can throw them away. He presents as somewhat messy and incredibly sleep-deprived, no matter how much rest he gets.

« METASONA »
The infamous Gamma-Burn. Layers of colorful fabric hide his body from head to toe. That thick, hooded poncho has crossing in bright oranges and blue-green shades, sewn and knit together and finished with a simple creamy fringe at the end. The pants are draped and pleated, baggy and resting over some older, modified steel-toed boots. The darkest part of the whole ensemble is a simple, loose-fitting turtleneck serving as an undershirt, and matching fingerless gloves.
The most prominent part of Gamma-Burn’s appearance, though, and the most haunting part— that gas mask with a radioactive sign spray painted on it, and the repurposed goggles with one glowing, green eye. As destruction and rebirth surround the villain, the green glow of that mismatched eye trails through the rubble, hidden under a thick hood but bright enough to warn everyone of just who is behind it all.

Work in progress!!

〘 PERSONALITY 〙

Righteous ─ Diligent ─ Selfless — Sharp ⤄ Prickly ─ Bitter ─ Self-loathing — Stubborn

Rage motivates Sorrel. Rage against bigotry, rage against hate, rage against cruelty, rage against society itself. He has a strong sense of what’s right— and that late-stage capitalism, that political horse-race he keeps witnessing, that bribery, that jerk-circle of congress… that’s not right. What’s right is saving the people from this bullshit, from the companies destroying the land they live on to the lawmakers burning books and passing disgusting laws. He’s been quick enough to see these problems as a child— the unfairness, the unreasonable destruction, the… wastefulness of everything. With his quick tongue and quick wit, he’s spoken out and marched a path to a better future. Now, he has to forge that path with blood— that corruption he needs to burn away, it… festers so deeply that it takes root in a common man’s mind, and the only way to fix that is pulling the roots out.
He doesn’t let people close to him— not only is he a walking nuclear reactor, but he’s got too many things to work through. He often snaps, barks, shoos people away— as courteous as he tries to be, he still hisses and growls for others to move out of the way.
Under that exterior, that motivation, that unbending moral compass, Sorrel is… scared. He feels pain every day, suffers every day, coughs up blood and faints— just by doing nothing. He feels his life is as worthless as the ants people squish beneath their feet, that he’s only existing to be a vessel, a means to a better world. Murder, despite him killing for the greater good, is still bad, and all the innocent things that died by his hands— he can’t really handle that, and the weight of all the things he resigned himself to do crushes him further.
This path he took isn’t a good one, but he’s the only one who can take it. He’s the only one who knows how to right the world, in his eyes— the only one who has both the guts and the ability to make real change happen. In the past, he always pushed himself, pushed his wits, pushed his body— all just to be accepted by the people who made him. In the present, he pushes everything further to give others a world he feels like he’ll soon be too sick to experience. It’s… the only way, after all.

« ORIENTATION »
Demisexual ─ homoromantic ─ Polyamorous

« LIKES »
Books ─ plants ─ biology and genetics — singing — cooking big meals for others — bees — natural fabrics — debate — thunderstorms — animals, mostly birds

« DISLIKES »
Police ─ capitalism ─ authority — big business — small-talk — society as it is — literally himself — loud noises — large, open spaces

« THEME SONGS »
Here just have the whole Spotify playlist open.spotify.com/playlist/3gWXa4epS2J…

〘 STRENGTHS 〙

« EDUCATION LEVEL »
Double-major in political sciences and environmental sciences

« SKILLS and HOBBIES »
sewing ─ cooking ─ gardening — genetic engineering — debate — stealth

« ABILITIES »
Radiation ─ That’s what made Sorrel a super villain— that radiation he absorbed, that core in his body. With it, he can do vast amounts of damage— melt things, vaporize things, heat things, cook things, kill things… but, when he controls it further, he can force plants to grow at an extremely fast pace through mutating them, and he can make entirely new plants as well from mutating genes. In general, this power is extremely versatile, and can be used in many unexpected ways.
Genius Mind ─ Sorrel has an incredible head on his shoulders. He’s good at making quick decisions and he can solve complex problems and other issues with ease. Due to his love and knowledge for plants and genetics, he’s been able to apply his radiation ability in specific ways to modify plants. He’s even trying to find out if he can do the same with animals— but… experiments often fail, and he doesn’t like messing with innocent little things so carelessly.
Flexibility ─ Sorrel’s hypermobile joints mean he’s got some good flexibility. He can fit into tight spaces and he can more easily dodge attacks. Aint that neat?
stealth ─ unless you’ve got a 6th sense or a Geiger counter, it’s hard to find Sorrel until he makes his position known. This means he often gets the first move, and often escapes undetected.

〘 WEAKNESSES 〙

« ABILITY LIMITS »
Radiation ─ While Sorrel’s never been healthy, his radiation ability gave him new things to worry about. He often can’t hold a meal down, faints, coughs up blood, feels dizzy… essentially, he’s constantly experiencing radiation poisoning from himself but without actually poisoning himself. He and his doctor decided to just label it a chronic metacondition.
Intelligencre ─ Sorrel may be extremely smart, but… he never socialized with people properly. He’s socially inept, and while he can debate well, he can’t hold a casual conversation to save his life. His intelligence basically does NOT extend to any form of interaction.
Flexibility (also applies to stealth) ─ Sorrel has hypermobile EDS, a genetic issue causing his joints to be unstable due to his connective tissue not forming correctly. Essentially, his joints pop out very easily, and he’s not able to lift much or do much direct combat. He won’t be able to stand for a fight, or take a direct and solid hit.

« FEARS and PHOBIAS »
Fear of being submerged in water ─ Agoraphobia ─ fear of being close to anyone — fear of being inadequate

« OTHER WEAKNESSES »
He’s sick, essentially. In many ways. Physically, he’s got multiple chronic issues that can flare up and cause him pain. Mentally, he has multiple unmanaged problems… extreme and poorly-processed trauma just the smallest. He’s just… not okay. He’ll definitely hide it in the short interactions he has as Gamma-Burn, but… he suffers, and he tries to do it when no eyes are on him.

〘 RELATIONS 〙

« RELATIONSHIP STATUS »
Given the fact Sorrel’s never experienced what it’s like to be loved, and he’s never had a fucking friend!he’s probably not even considered a relationship yet

« POSITIVE FIGURES »
None he can properly name. Maybe his debate leader who helped him organize and brought him with a team to win tournaments, maybe some teachers in highschool who tried to help him… but he can’t name anyone. Just his own will to keep going.

« NEGATIVE FIGURES »
Mason Davis ─ Foster Father ─ Awful, abusive towards Sorrel
Karen Davis ─ Foster Mother ─ Awful, abusive towards Sorrel
Reighfelle Davis ─ Foster Sister ─ no-contact
Keighler Davis ─ Foster Brother ─ no-contact

« ASSOCIATIONS »
Ground Zero ─ The base and settlement ─ he’s the founder of the base named Ground Zero, and is thus on good terms with all the people who moved in there.
Dr. Gerard Schmidt ─ Sorrel’s metadoctor ─ Makes sure he’s not dying or in so much pain he can’t do his work, so that’s epic
Followers ─ his social media followers and generally people who follow his ideological standpoint — self explanatory LMAO

〘 HISTORY 〙

Sorrel didn’t exactly have the standard starting package that most people did. He had no parents, no home, no family to take him in… Well, actually, he had that for the first maybe two years, but it seems things didn’t work out. Sorrel never questions about that, never had any memories of his biological family— why would he? They put him in the situation he had to live through.
Foster care wasn’t really kind to him, passing tribal law to place him in a white-picket-fence family and never looking back. All he knew is he was different— in a lot of ways. That affluent family was white like snow, and he was Afro-indigenous. That family was entirely human, and he was quite obviously at least somewhat angelic, with all those feathers and those ears and those teeth. The Davis family was, well, already a family— a strong Police Chief husband and a stay-at-home trophy wife, two unruly kids, and then the free paycheck that was Sorrel Geiger. Maybe if he was a bit luckier, he’d have landed a family that… cared for him just a little bit more than the extra government money, that taught him about his culture, that taught him how to socialize, that actually cared for him and nurtured him instead of touting him around like a toy and pretending they’re saints for fostering some kid of color.
Actually, the paycheck wasn’t the only thing the Davis family cared about. They also cared about religion, and preached constantly to their two children and to a young Sorrel who didn’t exactly like the way angels kept being idolized. Was… he supposed to be like that? Why treat him like trash when no one’s around if he’s an Angel, while all those stories from the big book always displayed on the low table talk about how cool angels are? Each question, each doubt, each word was beaten out of him by the family meant to protect him, all until he just sat pretty and listened. The older he got, the further he clawed through that Christian school his fake family threw him in, the worse he endured from his “dad,” the more he realized— he was actually entirely alone. He had no family, he was just a source of income and someone to fulfill the Davis’ social status just a bit more. They paraded him around like some exotic pet, each Sunday getting him to recite verses like a fucking parrot, each weekday just ignoring him and leaving him to study and stay quiet.
Highschool came around, and Sorrel got to blossom. The Davis family decided to throw Sorrel to public school instead of wasting more curriculum money on him, and while it was a decision sprouted from greed, Sorrel got to feel what it’s like to be comfortable in his own skin for once. His intelligence made itself clear with every college-level course he aced, and debate and biological sciences became some of his passions. He entirely threw himself to his work— all of his “friends” were made not by socializing but by some mutual class or club with said work. After all, Sorrel learned early-on he was all alone, even when he sat in a giant cafeteria full of other people. Highschool was also around the time Sorrel started to use social media to talk about justice, science, and debate— his page snowballing into an extremely popular activism page dedicated to discussing the wrongs of the world in its current state, including the decay of the earth itself caused by greedy people.
Sorrel inevitably aged out of the foster care system and was thrown away by the Davises who couldn’t make more money or social status off him, but he was lucky enough to gain both a full-ride scholarship to a local university for his gifted mind and a modest living out of his social media that was enough to cover his other expenses. Most people may have spent college partying, living life, actually making friends and experiencing what it’s like to be independent— meanwhile, sorrel just threw himself harder at his work, getting a double-major in for years and being the top three of his whole school.
Of course, he had more than just his classes. He was part of a debate team— and, to top it off, he fully bloomed into an activist calling for the safety of all humankind and the earth everyone lives in. He’s attended, organized, and led many rallies and protests, to the point of… being arrested multiple times, and standing face to face with the “father” who neglected him, the police chief. Even after chief Davis broke Sorrel’s nose, twice, he still pushed further, now brandishing proof of injustice and corruption in society.
The summer after Sorrel freshly graduated, a day that changed the course of his life was set to happen. Sorrel planned a protest to shut down, or at least stall, a nuclear power facility that polluted extremely important water sources and damaging the environment, causing illness to the poor people who lived close and had to work there, and causing permanent damage to the ecosystem that the land relied on to keep stable. This specific power-plant was known to be poorly managed, poorly made, and, for lack of a better word, a… ticking time-bomb without the safety measures this level of facility should have. It was just made by a private company, desperate for a hand in the nuclear power industry. Sorrel may have been just 22 at that time, but his words pointing the flaws of this death facility rang like gospel music and his call for action spurred hundreds of people to come.
That day was when, according to the news, a brilliant young mind was lost and never found again. That day was when, in reality, Gamma-Burn, the Angel of Death, the Wrath of the Earth, was born. Sorrel, as he stood before everything happened, had copper-toned hair and honeyed brown eyes, with soft blue feathers crowning a young and strong tanned face. A particularly cruel guard grabbed that copper-haired young man and… threw him into the reactor’s pool as he came towards the building with the rest of the protesting group. And Sorrel sank down to the still-running reactor.
He should’ve died, and— in a sense, the old Sorrel did die. His curly hair turned a blue-green shade, and patches of white skin formed and bleached parts of his hair, feathers, and even one of his eyebrows. Those yellow-tinted eyes now are a mismatching blue and green. Along with that, his body developed a… core. He absorbed the radiation, became that reactor, and caused an absolute disaster from the panic. As he swam back up after the ordeal, he obviously took his new body with him, and his pure fear! and… everyone got cooked with a wave of radiation, and the room melted down before his eyes.
The entirety of the United States was incredibly lucky this tragedy was contained in only one room, that by some miracle that radiation didn’t spread and explode, and just… retracted itself. That was Sorrel.
A guard, one of the people he was trying to help, pushed him to what was supposed to be death, and because of that… everyone at that facility but him is dead. Sorrel didn’t know cruelty and corruption came so far down, that one underpaid worker can be so desperate to keep a dangerous job that they’d kill and then be killed for it.
Maybe the curse was a gift. Maybe, now, he finally had a way to act instead of speak. Obviously, every action he took… it wasn’t enough. He had to take drastic measures to save the world from that corruption he keeps witnessing, and now he had… a means.
Sorrel adopted the name Gamma-Burn, wiped and deleted his old accounts back when he wasn’t some abomination, and started to speak again just a few days after he was reborn.
As far as the public knows, despite all the evidence of the dead/missing Sorrel Azrael Geiger being Gamma-Burn, no one knows what Sorrel currently looks like, and no one knows the face under Gamma-Burn’s mask. All everyone has is coincidence, theories, and a haunting fable of an abused genius turned supervillain that no one knows how to prove is real.
And now, a traumatized man stands entirely alone, trying to carry the world’s problems on his shoulders and trying to solve them in permanent ways.

𓆣 ☢ Middle Man ☢ 𓆣

“OH what the FUCK?!”

Sorrel adjusted at the longer fall, his reaction time fast enough to twist his body and roll on the now mossy ground. He’ll… just have to run some other way. If he tried to go vertically, that lumbering buffoon with an exoskeleton definitely would catch up. That left… trying to go under. This stupid beetle-man abomination was huge, and he was rather slim and flexible— he might be able to run with the undergrowth.

It worked, for a time— he disappeared under the cracks and crevices of dense trees and metal and concrete, like a rat scurrying through its little tunnel. Eventually, the great Gamma-Burn popped into a nearby bit of what used to be parking space, a clearing with a particularly large piece of painted concrete and steel that somehow managed not to be broken to shreds by all the plants rapidly growing.

Sorrel quickly looked around— it was just trees, green and growing and fresh. His ears rang too loudly to hear any buzzing or calling out, and while he still felt the disgusting shiver down his spine of beetles and worms tracking his ass down, he… he just couldn’t take it much longer.

Gamma-Burn, the invincible specter of the earth, broke out into a coughing fit to the point his signature gas mask dripped down blood onto the concrete slab he was pitifully hunched on. He had to take the mask off— he had to breathe, just a bit, just a little longer to get somewhere safe.

His entire torso burned. His core felt like some withered stick forced to carry a mountain, his chest was heavy and his heart figuratively beat out of his chest. He took the mask off as he keeled over and kept coughing up blood. Sorrel’s face, of course, was covered by the large hoodie, but… it still was the most vulnerable thing he’s done on the job. It’s not like he had a choice— his body just betrayed him at that moment, his chronic issues flaring up at the worst possible time.

He can’t go down like this. He could only let himself have a few seconds. He had to get somewhere, anywhere else but where he currently was— maybe to a sewer, to find a root-path back to Ground Zero. He already finished what he needed to do! Mission complete, a step closer to the world the people deserve, but if Gamma-Burn gets caught… well, that’s far too early for each wave Sorrel made to have lasting effects.

He had to keep going. He just… kept stumbling to the ground, and he started to panic to the point of letting out gigantic and reckless bursts of pure, hot, nuclear reaction style radiation from his own core.

𓆣 ☢ Middle Man ☢ 𓆣

Gods, Sorrel wanted to roll his eyes into the back of his skull. The most cookie-cutter hero, with a hint of squirmy ick and a chitin shell pulling him aside from the others who just focused on fucking fame and power and money instead of doing the right thing.

That self-absorbed beetle wasn’t a target, rather a burr clinging to his leg and causing some inconvenience with honeyed and valiant words meant for the public. This was the championed hero? This man, this selfish worm is the paragon of greatness? He already knew the world was upside down, and that he was here to right it. Though… it still made him a bit more bitter. He’s the villain for making the world a better place? He should be apprehended? Not the disgusting chairmen that fell with the building?

With a flick of his wrists, he… stumbled. He wanted to hold his daggers in a better way, but… his body hurt. A dagger dropped to the ground next to his sturdy boots as he supported himself against a mantle of tree bark. His throat… felt dry, and prickly. And then, he tasted iron at the tip of his tongue as he coughed.

Fuck. He was out of time. People couldn’t figure out Gamma-Burn was sick, as sick as he was. That’d make him weak. That’d be the talk of the town instead of his goals. It’d… get in the way. His body always got in the way of this monumental task on his shoulders.

“Ahaha…” Two more coughs. He… he just felt so sick. Sorrel needed to go home, take some medicine, tell the doctor his symptoms are still getting in the way. His fist that still held a blade tightened, and the metal heated up with a menacing, nuclear glow. It hurt so much.

He bit back the cry of pain, and he shouted hoarsely to the King Stag. “Catch me, beetle bitch!”

Gamma-Burn, with the signature green glowing eye forming a streak across the apocalyptic scene, sprinted towards the great hero. That beetle was pitifully slow compared to him, with all that chitin… he jumped, his feet landing squarely on the elytra of King Stag’s back, his hand burning a radioactive imprint on the shiny carapace. A split second later, he jumped.

Gamma-Burn used the great hero King Stag as a fucking vault. His dagger didn’t hit any skin, he didn’t use it to kill— it instead dug into the giant, fleshy vine hanging over a steel support beam. Sorrel grabbed that vine with his other hand, quickly put his remaining blade away, and jumped to the nearest branch— he had to get to safety, and quick.

𓆣 ☢ Middle Man ☢ 𓆣

Maybe he should’ve waited just a bit longer. Maybe at night. Maybe earlier in the morning tomorrow. There were too many people on the streets, and those old seeds deep under the pavement grew wilder than he’d anticipated— they responded… too well to the radioactive pulse. Vines, roots, gnarly bark— it shot through that predatory company headquarters like it was merely sand. All the concrete crumbled, steel beams creaked and broke and flung through streets, still red from the sheer radioactive energy the infamous Gamma-Burn lets loose.

Smoke clouded his vision, and only a green eye glowed through the fallout at dawn.

The forest kept spreading. Through streets, parking lots, basements, office buildings— a concrete jungle was far better than the disgusting smog each factory and car greedily bellowed into the atmosphere. Maybe he was too hasty. Maybe he let out too much energy. Maybe his hands burning in pain should’ve been a sign to stop channeling more and more radioactive heat through the roots. Just a bit more. Just a little thicker, a little harder to uproot. Just… enough to stump the idiot at the top floor, *permanently.*

Sorrel saw the way people ran, screaming and turning away from the plants and the rubble. They could run— they weren’t his targets. Hopefully they were okay… maybe they’d get some kind of light burn from the dust? No matter. He needed to keep going. He couldn’t back out.

Pain shot up his arms as he pushed into the ground again. Pigeons started to faint from being cooked alive. Raccoons fell from their trash cans as vines tangled and burned them. Rats bled from their mouths as the dust settled on them— Sorrel couldn’t think of that. He was Gamma-Burn. He was the harbinger of death to the corrupt, and the giver of life to the new. These few animals… it was okay if they died tragically, there will be more who can make a home in this reclaimed land. The people who ran, it was okay— they’ll learn that what he was doing was the right way… the only way to deal with the rot on the earth.

A silhouette came into view among the growing weeds. “Turn back!” Sorrel warned, his voice muffled by the thick gas mask he wore. The area was already hotter with the unstable particles buzzing in the air— Sorrel knew this would be a lethal dose for most normal people. So… this wasn’t a normal person.

He forced himself up from the ground as he glared and squinted his eyes. A green carapace.

“Oh, you fucking maggot!” Sorrel cursed, flinging his hands up in the air and then to his sides where his trusty blades were. He couldn’t hold up in a fight right now. His body creaked and begged him to just have a normal morning— have some food, some coffee, some time alone in a comfy bed, but he had something important to do, for the sake of the new world.

Middle Man: Hero x Reporter x Villain- LOOKING FOR HEROES

I’m still atrocious at forums B UT @Baphomini I’m so glad u like him!!! Also thank u @JewelSerket :)!!
I want to draw a lil bit more, thinking about a Fullbody in full villain-wear, also thinking about little intricacies n everything with storylines

Middle Man: Hero x Reporter x Villain- LOOKING FOR HEROES

Doodlin’ time

Middle Man: Hero x Reporter x Villain- LOOKING FOR HEROES

Hello fellow gays and gamers I’m gonna chuck another villain into the mix
Sorrel Geiger
He used to be an activist popular on social media, known for his environmental advocacy and his human rights and the intersectionality between those. He was an extremely outspoken voice for these issues, and most of his commentary ends with a signature phrase— “you should be angry.”
He calls out corruption everywhere he can sense it, in society itself with topics of climate change, in corrupt politics, in shady businesses who only care about themselves— everywhere he can reach, he will at least try to. He’s held, attended, and led many protests both on human rights and on environmental conservation (before the incident, that is) and he’s even been arrested a few times due to his protests and passion for standing up for what is right.
During a protest, he and the rest of a group raided a nuclear power facility that was polluting important water sources and damaging the environment, with the goal of having that facility shut down or stalled for the sake of the people and animals living in the area and the workers being exposed to awful and unsafe conditions that will cause them illness. The specific facility is famously poor,y built and poorly run, using mostly exploited and underpaid labor, and made by a corrupt private company wanting a hand in the growing nuclear power industry.
As Sorrel led the front, a guard threw him into the fucking water of the reactor. He should’ve died, right?
Right?
Nope. He came out with glowing green eyes, greenish hair, and white patches of skin similar to vitiligo.
Thst was also the moment when he decided that the new civilization he wanted would only be achieved through building on the ashes of the current one, seeing how corruption ran so deep that it had its hold on the very people it was hurting.
He’s now responsible for the murders of many politicians and CEOs, and he’s laid many expansion and construction projects to ruin and grow dense forests from those ashes— all to make the world better. All so the politicians and businessmen can’t brainwash people to causing more harm, and human development takes a better path— and, maybe, just maybe, sorrel could fish the beauty of the world out of the rot he keeps having to trod in.

So uh
He’s got a hideout in the abandoned shipyard close to where the nuclear reactor used to be, where he reclaimed the land and turned it into a thick and hostile jungle, and lots of people live in the same hideout. Think firelights hideout from arcane energy!
And while he still needs more development, I def see him with a multi-use radiation-based power from all the radiation he absorbed. This power can be used to force plants to grow quickly, to like 3d burn-zap people out of their life subscription, stuff like that. He’s still in the process of studying his own power and trying not to die himself from the repercussions, being extremely sick since that accident because he literally absorbed tons of radiation and should Not Be Alive but here he is as a mutant/metahuman!
TLDR villain who thinks he’s doing the right thing for humanity because that would be fun to build up

Middle Man: Hero x Reporter x Villain- LOOKING FOR HEROES

*rubs hands together*
Aw yea

Afterimages: The Mirrored World

(This was a collaboration between myself and @baphomini! )
”My… real world..?”
That… that was DEFINITELY some kind of really weird hallucination. It couldn’t have been real. How could it be? Tohato was in the void, signing some weird paper, and one second later he’s where he normally is. He didn’t want to bring this up to a therapist, or to his dad, or to his uncle… it was a one-time thing so far! So… yeah.
He smiled to the customer. ”Of course! What kind of stuffing? Steamed or fried? We have chicken, pork, vegetable, and we also have sweeter versions of dumplings I also find really good!”
That customer, unlike the strange masked man, took off their shoes at the entrance of this historic building. A lot politer than that masked man! It made Tohato smile.
“I’d love some fried chicken dumplings, please!” The customer responded.
Tohato nodded with his usual sweet smile, and he looked over to his dad, Ha-Neul, cooking just a few meters away from him.
“Appa!”He called, We need an order of fried chicken dumplings!”
"deur-ryeo-yo!" Ha-Neul called back. The man always defaulted to their first language of Korean when they were focused on a task like cooking. 'I hear you,' as they had said, was also a very common response, not just from Ha-Neul, but among their little family in general. It held many meanings among them. From the obvious meaning of assuring one that they were heard, to letting another know that they were understood not just comprehensively, but emotionally. 'I hear you,' was often said in response to one sharing about a rough day, letting them known that their troubles and pains were not just heard, but felt. It was their secret little language in a way.
It wasn't long before Ha-Neul was sliding out the order, calling out the name in Korean as they usually did. As the lunch rush dwindled down, Ha-Neul soon joined Tohato at the front behind the counter, wiping off their hands on a cloth hanging from their apron. They greeted him with their iconic warm smile, "Busy day," they commented, laughing lightly, "Are you well?"
Tohato, still standing behind the counter to greet customers, smiled at his dad. He hesitated, his smile a little forced, his brows furrowed, but his cherry-red eyes bright.
“I’m fine, appa, just a little flustered… how are you?”
The kitchen was hot, especially during this time of the year…. ”Appa, do you want some water..? Tohato offered, almost like he avoided trying to talk about that weird… experience? He just had.
"I'm fine, snowbird, thank you, I'll get myself some water on my way back to the kitchen," they told him almost dismissively then asked, "Have you had a chance to eat yet? I could make you something while there is time."
”Are there any leftover noodles? I’d love those! Tohato chirped as he made his way back to the kitchen. He’ll be back to the counter by the time the dinner rush came through, but there were some regulars that came by in these in-between times and challenged him and his dad to mahjong.
Tohato paused, and looked back to his dad. “Do you know where uncle went? We should make some food for him, too, when he’s back.”
He still prepared a glass of cold water for his dad while he was in the kitchen, and then took out a nice iced can of jasmine tea for himself.
His father nodded to his question, leading the way back to the kitchen as they made way to prepare two bowls of noodles for themself and Tohato, garnishing them with some seaweed and other things laying about, left overs from other orders. They never let anything go to waste. Anything they personally didn't eat was either composted, or collected into slop for pigs belonging to close friends, who in turn provided them with prime pork.
As Ha-Neul handed Tohato their bowl, they told him, "Ah, Hyeon-Ju took Mandu to see the vet. He was worried with the way she's been lately, and wants to be safe. He should be returning in time for the dinner rush, I'm sure."
Tohato smiled at the thought of the sweet little flock of Easter-egger chickens living in the backyard. All of them except one were sweet, even the territorial rooster, Kong, loved being cuddled. He did notice Mandu had been breathing a little off lately— he was glad his uncle took her to the vet. Hopefully it’s nothing— maybe she’s just tired! She isn’t the brightest chicken, no, but she produces a lot or eggs. If something happened with her lungs… they’d have to send everyone to the vet, just in case.
Oh, how Tohato loved sitting there with all the chickens. They had soft feathers, and they were all rescues— kind of like him! They were all so kind to him, he saw them as family, too.
”Oh, didn’t Bogsu get broody again? We might have to keep her out of the coop for a day…” Tohato asked, looking up from the bowl he had a few inches away from his face.
Another customer came in— Tohato quickly put his food down, wiped his face with a napkin, and rushed over to the counter again after quickly thanking his dad.

Afterimages: The Mirrored World

Tohato wanted to hide away like a termite in wood, burrow into someplace safer than whatever this was. His instincts told him this was absolutely NOT safe, NOT okay, NOT anything he wanted to work with— but what choice did he have? This thing just… pulled him out of reality! Quite literally, too.
He looked down at the yellowed paper. The masked man, he said it was a contract— but that implied it’d have words on it, no..? It didn’t, not to him. It had swirling ink that used to be brushstrokes, changing languages, gibberish upon gibberish and words written on top of each other and random images that had no business being on any human writing system.
Well… Tohato heard somewhere, that dreams, no matter how real they felt, can be figured out if the words are gibberish or if the sky looks off— the sky definitely looked off, as there was none, and he’d definitely consider the words on this paper to be some strange gibberish ever-shifting like mist on mirrors. So, was this a dream? Did that mean he was safe, in his bed, and this was just a horrifying, extremely realistic nightmare? The mask also… seemed to know of Tohato’s dark past, and that made his pale skin crawl.
This could also be a hallucination. Last time he checked, he didn’t have those— just flashbacks and nightmares about the past, but this wasn’t related to his past at all, and it wasn’t some flashback because this is just not part of reality in any way.
Tohato shook himself, tried to stretch as far as his scars would let him, avoided even looking at this cursed contract.
Maybe, if Tohato just signed the weird paper, this would stop, and he would wake up, and he could just smile and pretend this never happened!
And so, the albino silently grumbled to himself about this strange situation, picking up the feather pen and signing where the “blank spot” was. He watched as the kanji of his name swirled with all of the other splotches of ink, and looked back up to the masked man.
”Done. Can I… wake up, now?”