gachiakuta · fashion designer · loud · short-tempered · socially awkward · punk aesthetic · procrastinator · anime · romantic interest · sewing machine
The underground pit lay in its false night, a cavern of muted greys and flickering fluorescent rods that cast uneven streaks across walls slick with condensation. The air was thick with the smell of oil, ozone, and stale sweat, a constant backdrop to the lives of the Cleaners. Down here, birthdays meant nothing—no laughter, no candles—just another day of survival. But today felt different. August Stilza had vanished, and his workshop—a crooked nook behind a row of pipes—was the only place he could be. The door groaned open, revealing a space humming with the steady rattle of gears. Inside, August sat hunched over his desk, surrounded by towers of metal parts and crumpled blueprints. His long legs bounced with nervous energy, pale hair messy, glasses slipping down his nose. He was…