#hes so silly. wet cat coded

[harukapologist]

I am back with more 0301 (surprise)

But this time I will add 0206 and propose to draw: arcade double date!

Fuuta and Yuno do a dance battle at one of the machines, Haruka and Mappi cheer, Yuno is doing a lot better at this competition than Fuuta ...

Fuuta getting Haruka plushies from the crane games (bunnies or Kirby, gotta support the special interests of his bf)

I adore this idea thank you 😭 0301 + 0206 couple dates are very real in my heart (with a specific sequence of events they will be real in T3 trust trust....) Thank you for requesting and I hope you like this!!! I'm always so happy to receive your requests cause they're so creative aawawa

FUTA SUPPORTING HIS BF'S SPECIAL INTEREST IS SOOO SWEET, SO FUTA 😭💖💖💖 I imagine that Futa gets frustrated easily when he makes a mistake, but when it comes to achieving something to make Haruka happy? Let this claw machine malfunction as much as it wants, he IS getting that plushie for his bf and he WILL make him happy, nothing will stop him~

[pondhue]

rick saying that he not only respects summer but see's her as his equal, then tells her directly that she reminds him of diane

[cartoonishreal]

More insane behavior

[loneliestavatar]

Jesus coding goes hard/silly

Reasons why Jon Archivist is truly a character of all time:

Had the police called on him several times when he was a young child

Keeps his rib and the ashes of the season one antagonist next to his stationary drawer

Promised he wouldn’t get lost in tunnels and then immediately got lost in aforementioned tunnels

Has no clue what a joke is

Learned how remarkably easy it is to buy an ax in central London

Had to have two separate interventions

Told people his place of employment before traumatising them for life

The first character he ever said ‘I love you’ to is a cat

Allegedly participated in amdram

Watches documentaries and collects some kind of weird shit (my headcanon is Soviet Union postcards) when he’s not being a paranoid mess

Canonically looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks

Knows nothing about library science

Fell head over heels for a man that he hated until he learned he lied on his resumé

Has been referred to as Jesus or Jesus-adjacent at least twice

Asexual icon

Knows what a meme is and said “LOL” in the first episode

Rode on a merry-go-round sometime during his university days because he was in a weird place emotionally

Died for our Jonathan Sins

Is probably a computer now playing minesweeper with his boyfriend and evil 200+ year old boss

[cosmicsuperstars]

and he melts,

DAN HENG's normally stoic and calm nature makes him an absolute joy to tease.

there are days when he curses his thin face; he blushes so easily and he wishes he didn't, if only because the pinkish hue that spreads over his cheeks and nose seems to spur you on.

call him nicknames, just to watch him freeze. like, full-on 'deer in headlights' type of freeze.

hey, babe; his eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. come on, sweetheart, let's go; the tips of his ears begin to burn. what's cooking, good looking?; he drops his face into his hands.

he's definitely some form of touch-starved, so the easy way you lean against him always makes him feel weak in the knees.

it's hard not to be, though; his eyes are always following you around the room, his smile is always the brightest when you're nearby, his heart skips a beat when you look at him with all that love.

he's not used to so much affection — and a direct frontal attack at that! are you trying to kill him?

💬 DIRECTOR'S CUT: dan heng! the silly ever <3 i always have so much fun writing for him, because he's really just. sad wet cat coded iykwim? anyways, enjoy!

[pansy-picnics]

can ask that you spill everything about your Splatoon OCs? 😺

ABSOLUTELY i did not expect anyone to ask to be honest….goodness where do i even begin. Let’s see. I’ll start with my main little doomed love triangle thing i suppose

Cecilia Paek, she/her, 24 yrs old, aka: cece, celia, eight, whore, freak, slut, etc. My agent 8. born in the domes under the name Seo-Mi Paek, but renamed herself to cece post-memory loss. A freak both in the not-safe-for-work sense and just. In general. She says the most unhinged shit in such a passive formal manner. Marina has to consistently tell her she’s not allowed to eat the jelletons. She bites. A lot.

aside from being a freak cece is curious and observant, but incredibly blunt and fierce. In the past Seo-Mi was a much quieter and more repressed person, but hearing the Inkantation awakened a flame within her, so to speak. Cece is incredibly vocal about her thoughts and feelings, and she does not like to be pushed around. although shes always been a very nostalgic person, shes been trying to look forward more often than not. (she was on team future!)

cece has a very mature, almost sisterly presence, and is especially close with neo 3 (ikra) and her pseudo sister agent 4 (yottsu). she also has a daughter of her own, yumi! ikra and yottsu are my friends ocs so i cant say too much about them but ikra is like, basically her and kyle’s adopted kid

Kyle Lastname, (Actual surname to be determined Eventually) he/him, 25 yrs, aka three, cap, kyle, ceces silly rabbit /j. he’s my captain 3. has a stupid ass name bc he’s a stupid ass guy. Basically started as a joke oc but i put him through the Horrors. he’s the malewife of all time.

Grew up the only hearing person in a deaf/hard of hearing household so he’s fluent in sign language. He joined squidbeak when he was like 16 mostly bc he was a MASSIVE FUCKING LOSER with a huge ego who wanted the attention. Now he has Trauma and hates his teen self more than anything. (The egotistical little white kid phase is like, a rite of passage in his family. His little sister is still in that phase.) Now that he’s mellowed out hes just a sopping wet cat. Dating cece and is obsessed with her + will do literally whatever she wants.

Hes a lot more talkative than canon 3, hes the kind of guy who copes with humor all the time. he tries to be cool and mysterious but hes really awkward and gets flustered or worked up super easily. He’s overall a pretty boring guy and thats his charm. She’s barbie and he’s just ken. etc etc.

Hes SO dad coded btw. He and cece have a daughter together, Yumi. Since he was young he spent a lot of time looking after his little sister and he’s basically adopted his protege, neo3 (ikra). he makes me think of RTGame for reasons i could not describe to you, it’s just the energy somehow. He’s my babygirl. My little meow meow if you will (Cece voice)

Victoria Mendoza, she/her, 25 yrs, aka Tori. SHE is the fucked up one. Literally doomed by the narrative. Eye love her.

She comes from a long line of elite soldiers and was a child prodigy, but also the Problem Child. Got expelled from multiple schools for beating up other kids. from a young age she’s been incredibly critical of the octarian society and she was basically your average teen rebel. into alt music/fashion, incredibly vocal about her distaste for the system, fairly closed off with a cold exterior. the only person she truly cared for was Seo-Mi (Cece).

Seo-Mi was quiet and sweet and generally pretty average academically, so she didn’t have nearly as much pressure on her to succeed compared to Tori. the two were childhood friends and teenage lovers. The only ones who truly matched each others freak if you will. When they were little girls they used to dream of escaping to the surface together. this changed when they were about sixteen years old.

the most important thing to know about tori is that she is a pessimist and at her core a Coward. She’s all bark and no bite. She’ll scream her hatred of authority from the rooftops but immediately crumble at the sight of her leader. and as she got older and officially entered her career, she lost hope. she determined the surface wouldn’t have anything more for her than the domes did. she became complacent, while Seo-Mi, who had previously been more neutral, had heard the inkantation and only become more determined to leave the domes.

The two desperately tried to change each other’s minds but they were far too stubborn. both of them were crushed by the supposed “betrayal” of their beloved. Inevitably Seo-Mi left for the surface, eventually being taken in to Kamabo Co. while tori stayed behind to rot.

Since Seo-Mi left, tori became more bitter than ever before. she turns her focus to her career, and her family, but she never truly moves on from the loss. Unfortunately, Cece did. Cece met someone else, she’s started a family, she has a completely new name. she’s essentially a new person. and Tori is still the same.

Canonically i don’t think they would ever meet again and actually recognize each other, but i like to play with the idea sometimes bc if they did they would Hate each other. Tori is completely incapable of accepting that her Seo-Mi has moved on. She is clinging on to a version of someone that doesn’t exist anymore. tori is a deeply self destructive person and will never move on in any sense of the word. Sad!

Also this is Yumi. Age varies but shes like. Very young toddler as of the current timeline. She’s cece and kyle’s favorite surprise (Accident). They’re both freaks and shes the consequences of their actions. She and smollusk have playdates together. She’s obsessed with off the hook but doesn’t realize that her weird lesbian aunts pearl and marina are the same people. She’s baby

[ddarker-dreams]

Nexus II.

Yandere Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Descriptions of Blade's body regeneration ability, Blade is just kinda weird idk, some spoilers for his backstory. Word count: 6k.

Nexus index.

The LOTUS-EATER’s maximum capacity tops out at 124. This number takes current fire codes and oxygen generator parameters into account. There are eight Arbiters — including yourself — and fifteen other employees who work The Club floor on rotation. Additionally, some automatons assist with carrying refreshments to clients. Lucky for you, those fellas aren’t on the payroll. 

The other twenty-two are, though. 

Nona swings her legs back and forth while sitting on the main bar’s countertop, humming a song from an underground band she likes. She’s sent you a link to their discography enough times that you recognize the URL immediately and know not to tap on it. 

“Hey, mom, dad, we’re on the news. ‘IPC Places Eris Under Temporary Travel Ban While Investigating Claims of Fraud’. Why didn’t anyone tell me we were doing fraud? Was I not invited to the group chat?” Nona hums. 

You glance up from your account book, sigh, then glance back down.

Meanwhile, Lear carries a hefty wooden crate from the back and places it on the floor. The sound of muffled glass clinking together can be heard, along with liquid sloshing.

“You shouldn’t make jokes like that,” he frowns. He shoos her off the counter with a wet rag, to which she takes refuge behind you. He rolls his eyes at her shenanigans, ties up his sandy hair, then gets to cleaning. “People could get the wrong idea. It’d tarnish [First]’s reputation.” 

Snickering, she replies, “And casually referring to Our-Lord-And-Savior-The-Exalted-One by her first name wouldn’t?” 

He bristles. “You…!” 

On instinct, he winds up his arm, wielding the now dirty rag as his ammunition. He pauses when Nona points at you. Seeing that there’s no way to hit his target without you joining the casualties, he huffs, and returns to shining glasses, using excessive force this time. 

Nona sticks her tongue out at him. After celebrating her victory, she situates herself on a nearby barstool, stretching her arms out beside your workspace like a content cat preparing to nap. 

“You’ve been staring at that silly book forever,” she notes, exasperation coloring her tone. “I know you aren’t reading it, either. Your eyes give you away. So, what’s up?” 

You shuffle in your seat. This line of questioning was inevitable as the four moons that hang everlasting in the sky, taking in everything as impartial observers. During instances like this, you envy the marvelous masses, how they can exist peacefully without living. No one asks the moon troubling questions. Or, if they do, they have more pressing issues at hand than their spoken query. 

“It’s nothing,” you dismiss. 

She blows a tuft of hair from her face. “Hey, Lear.”

“Mm?”

“Did you hear that?”

“Well, yes, I’m only standing a few feet away.” 

“Right, right. Let me ask a trickier question then, since that one was obviously way too easy for someone of your intellect. Do you believe her?”

“I…” he swallows thickly. “... Yes?”

Nona throws her arms up. “Gah! I’m surrounded by liars who can’t lie. That’s almost worse than liars who can lie— blegh, hey, did you actually throw a rag at me?” 

The rag in question slides down the side of her head and hits the ground with a sad squelch. 

“I’ll do it again too. You shouldn’t bother [First]—” Lear abruptly cuts himself off at the last syllable of your name, “The exalted one when she’s trying to concentrate.” 

You raise your head and frown. “Lear, I told you. Call me by my name when it’s just us. It feels wrong if you don’t.” 

“Seriously? That’s what gets your attention?” Nona laments. 

You both elect to ignore her. 

“I know, I know. It’s just… what if he comes back?” 

Silence descends and clings to the three of you like the suffocating scent of smoke. It’s there again, the uncomfortable, skin-prickling sensation of eyes sticking to you. Amber and sapphire coalesce into one, unspoken plea, forming a disconcerting shade. Nona’s visage betrays nothing, whereas Lear’s concern would be obvious from galaxies away. 

You square your shoulders and try to make yourself appear as decisive as you need to sound. “I’ll know when he’s back. He’ll text so I can let him in.” 

The two exchange knowing looks. It’s Nona who tries her luck. 

“That’s reassuring and all, but, I think the question Lear wanted to ask is why that man’s here in the first place.” 

Magenta eyes, rosy iris’, words that drip like venom-coated honey. 

When you asked how you should explain Blade’s presence to your staff, she told you she’d hate to abuse her authority, and that you’re free to decide those specifics yourself. You would’ve preferred some guidance or hint at her expectations in such a pivotal situation. It’s easier to avoid a landmine if you know how to best watch your step. The uncharacteristic lack of instructions goes on to birth unease. 

“My answer hasn’t changed. He’s here to act as my bodyguard until some concerns are settled.” 

Nona’s lips twist to the side. “You never wanted a bodyguard before.” 

“I never needed one before.” 

A glass shatters violently. 

You and Nona snap your head toward the noise’s origin, finding Lear’s face wound tight in pain. You both jump the counter. The remains of crystal shards are strewn across the floor, catching and refracting light. Watching your step, you make your way over to Lear, who is muttering expletives under his breath. 

No, that isn’t right, you realize. His lips aren’t moving. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he tries waving off Nona, who is inspecting the hand that held the glass, “Just an accident, s’all.” 

The private tumult boiling in his head threatens to overflow, stating loud and clear thoughts no one other than himself should be privy to. You grimace and focus on blocking the intrusive voice out. It’s so resounding, so sharp, that snippets penetrate through and spill their scathing secrets.  

‘My fault — should’ve killed — now she’s — because of me…!’ 

Block it out, block it out, block it out, you chant the mantra incessantly. 

Lear’s psyche wishes to illuminate itself to you in its entirety. The spotlights turn on one by one, focusing intently on the visible portion of the stage that any audience member can see. The overlapping beams penetrate the stage’s back curtain, revealing the silhouettes of the backstage crew. 

You don’t want to witness these delicate inner workings. It isn’t for your eyes, his thoughts aren’t for your ears. Sins committed in days past grant you a front-row seat and sew your eyes wide open. You haven’t attended this theater in some time, so it brought the show to you. 

It requires great effort to struggle against the needle and thread that wants to practice its stitches on you. This pain that feels like your skull is being crushed beneath an anchor could ease away if you were a good audience member who sat still and mute. You resist subservience at the cost of yourself. Eventually, the lights dim. The stage’s back curtain turns opaque. The actors shift their shouts into a normal speaking volume, a whisper, then finally, stop orating altogether. 

Your mind’s dictation is decided by you — the ink of Lear’s thoughts expunged. 

You’re aware of your physical surroundings again. 

Presently, you’re crouching down on the floor. You move your foot back to maintain balance, and there’s a crunch, warning you to tread carefully. You inhale and exhale shakily. At this sign of lucidity, Nona and Lear crowd over you, repeating your name on a loop. You check twice to ensure their mouths are indeed moving and you aren’t hearing what you shouldn’t. Once you dispel your fears, relief embraces you. 

This paroxysm has run its course.

Nona’s shoulders slump. “It’s okay, it’s over. She fixed it.” 

They both hold their breath until you nod in agreement. 

Lear extends his hand to help stand you up, to which Nona swats at it. 

“No touching,” she reminds. Sternness doesn’t sound right in her cadence. He considers arguing, only to decide against it. His fingers twitch, go still, then recede. 

You have to stand on your own strength. 

Neither of them knows what to say in the immediate aftermath — it’s been so long that they’re out of practice. While they think over the best-sounding platitudes, you spare your phone a glance. Several messages mar the screen from an unknown sender. The most recent is time-stamped at five minutes ago. 

You grumble a few choice words. 

“Mr. Personality is back?” Nona asks. 

“Yeah, I’ll handle it,” you close your account book and fold it under your arm. “You both should head home, it’s late. Just let Loopy take care of the glass shards.” 

Nona gives a mock salute. After a moment’s consideration, Lear nods. 

And so the three of you part ways. 

Your fingers blindly grope at the expanse beneath your desk. Finally, you come in contact with a protrusion, then press it. Electricity thrums then turns hushes. For peace of mind, you glide your hand through the air. A holographic keyboard flickers into existence and responds to your vigorous keystrokes. The monitor reads that your noise-canceling software is up to date. It prevents sound waves from escaping a perimeter you’ve set. It’s installed in every room on the second floor, which includes the private rooms in The Lounge, your office, and the bedroom attached to said office. 

Ever since Kafka started slinking around, the software’s uptime has increased exponentially. 

Unlike Kafka, Blade doesn’t sit across from you or relax on the couch against the silver-colored wall. He stands by the door that leads to the hallway like a statue. He hasn’t so much as uttered a word to you since you let him in, not that you put in much effort to rouse conversation. It isn’t as childish as him ignoring you, either, you swear his eyes haven’t left you for a millisecond. 

The keyboard and monitor dissipate at the flick of your wrist. 

“I know I said I didn’t have anything major scheduled this week, but the IPC’s new policy changes things,” you start. Still no reaction. Frowning, you continue, “I’ll have to break the house arrest you’ve imposed.” 

He doesn’t so much as blink. You thought a little provocation might earn you some material to work with, but you thought wrong. 

“Who will be there?” Blade asks. 

Instead of experiencing relief that he’s broken his vow of silence, tension coils its barbed limbs around you. It refuses to squeeze or apply any pressure. No, it intentionally denies you that, for it knows pain precedes understanding. A motive, an intention. Any degree of emotion is better than an unknowable void. Frustration, you can soothe, doubt, you can dispel, but total apathy? That’s a nightmare crossed into reality. 

“The other two leaders of the quadrants and myself.” 

At long last, there's a sign he is indeed a sentient lifeform and not the latest android model. A flash passes over his eyes. Suspicion or disbelief, perhaps. 

“Shouldn’t there be four leaders, if the city’s divided into quadrants?” 

“That’s a fair assumption. As far back as our records date, the southwestmost quadrant, Arc, has rejected the idea of having any fixed governance. They act however they see fit. It’s where that man who attacked me a few cycles back was sent to, since we look down on involuntary confinement.” 

“The prison planet without prisons,” Blade’s wry wording belies his flat tone. 

It’s always been a divisive topic, earning scorn and acclaim alike. You’ve had the misfortune of listening to clients regurgitate talking points that were made digestible by popular media, who started the cycle by devouring journal articles they read one paragraph of. They repeat what’s been said thousands of times with the bravado of the original theorist. Normally, you’d consider it more agreeable to bash your head against a wall than speak on the exhausted topic. 

So why is it a kindling of intrigue burns by a Stellaron Hunter’s offhand comment? 

“What’s this? The wanted criminal isn’t a proponent of prison abolition?” 

“Every decision comes at a price,” he says. “Sins should be punished.” 

You blink. Sins? Punishment? Is this a textbook case of cognitive dissonance, or another beast entirely? 

“What do you consider a sin?” 

“Anything that defies the natural order.” 

“Such as…?” 

The maelstrom that envelops him is potent enough for you to feel it breathing down your neck. Your body prickles all over. 

“Defying death.” 

“Not inflicting it?” 

“No,” Blade’s response is immediate, straight from the heart. “Taking life is permissible. It’s accelerating the inevitable.” 

This callous sentiment should chill you — maybe it would, if you heeded the alarm bells ringing in your mind — but fascination triumphs over any deterrent. This isn’t a creed one stumbles into by happenstance, it’s a burden made to order. His preoccupation with death is personal. A necessity. 

“Show me what it’s like to die.”

Is this request self-flagellation or redemption? 

If you’re ever to fulfill the Synalink you promised, you’ll need to dig deeper. 

“There are ‘sins’ committed with altruistic intentions, though.” 

“Hah,” he barks out a bitter laugh. “Those… those are the worst kind.” 

This is a personal slight he’s grappling with. The shards scattered around him like stardust condense, though the sight they create remains out of focus. It doesn’t have to be a sharp picture for you to discern its immense stature. 

Each person’s psyche is distinct in its manifestation. This image is a culmination of everything that defines them. Their core values, history, relationships, culture, ambitions both met and not fully realized; these colors leave an indelible imprint. In truth, this detailed representation is but a single dot amidst an ocean of stars. The mind of a sentient being must be vast if it is capable of ascending to an Aeon’s status. Still, you need something to work with, even if it doesn’t encompass the full scope. A pianist cannot play their instrument if there are no keys. 

This scale, this sheer magnitude that towers higher the more you crane your neck up, it’s unlike anything you’ve ever encountered. 

“... You’re going to give me a run for my money, Mr. 8.13 billion,” you murmur. “Your head looks like a warzone.” 

He leans against the wall with a hmph.

“With all your impending problems, that’s what you choose to focus on?” 

“I can multitask.” 

“Can you?” He challenges. Sensing your confusion, he elaborates. “You look awful.” 

Blade must be irresistible across all genders with that nuanced level of word crafting. 

“I appreciate your candidness,” you deadpan. 

He shakes his head at your sarcasm. “Don’t act obtuse. Your complexion’s off, your eyes are bloodshot… everything was fine when I left. Must have something to do with your earlier delay, I take it?” 

You underestimated his acumen. This would explain why he’s been sizing you up since you opened the door. His sword proficiency isn’t the only threat you should be wary of. You know to be mindful of your presentation when Kafka’s skulking about, you didn’t think he’d need to be treated with a similar caution.

“It’s nothing serious, just your typical mental overexertion. There’s a lot on my plate, you said so yourself.” 

“Hm.” 

Whether he believes you or not, the conversation is left at that. 

Transportation on Eris functions differently than what’s commonly found in other worlds. 

Traditional gas-based motors aren’t favored due to the frigid climate. Instead, a gemstone mined in the Nectary by vetted groups is the preferred resource. It contains special thermodynamic properties that can emit immense power under the correct conditions. The gemstones have been altered and assembled in such a way that they function as a railroad for insulated cabins to travel from one station to another. These paths were nicknamed 'nectar guides’ or ’guides’ by the first engineers to embed them in the ground. This is in reference to how the eight main paths lead to Perianth II’s center, built above the Nectary. 

The design serves a dual purpose — it optimizes travel and the heat radiating from the ground produces light. The accommodations have outworlders in mind. Your species, the Nymphalians, have long undergone enough natural selection to survive the hostile conditions fine enough. Your species’ eyesight excels in the dark and your physiology resists the cold. Aside from that, your body functions identical to any other humanoid species. The lone visible difference is a thin white ring around most Nymphalians’ iris’. You and Lear display this quality, Nona does not. 

The cabin you sit in has a quaint design. There are plush, brown loveseats lining the wall, glowing orange lights in the arched ceiling, and light refreshments atop wooden table stands. It’s split into a common area and a bedroom suite. More enchanting than any ornate embellishment are the expansive windows. You only get to see your quadrant in person during these trips to Perianth II’s center and back. 

“You warm enough?” You call over to Blade, who is bundled in extra layers of clothes and wearing an especially dour expression. 

He doesn’t dignify your quip with a verbal reply. 

This brief jaunt has earned his ire. For someone who’d likely prefer to be anywhere else, he’s taking this guard assignment quite seriously. He explained that taking this straightforward travel route begs for people with nefarious intent to come slithering out. You could see his point, but the matter isn’t up for dispute. Recent cyberattacks have called electronic communication into question. What you’ll be discussing with the others — Chrysus of Ade and Caicias of Mele — is highly sensitive information. The IPC catching any sliver of it could prove disastrous. 

“You shouldn’t be by the windows,” Blade eventually says.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a major buzzkill?” 

Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t respond. 

With some reluctance, you pry yourself away from the glass granting access to the outside world. 

“... Just a bit longer?” You try plucking a sympathetic cord he distinctly lacks. 

“If you like it so much, why not experience it in the safety of your room where your head is a less visible target?”  

“It isn’t possible to perform a Synalink on yourself.” 

“Have an underling do it.” 

The presumptions air to this suggestion eliminates any grace you may have extended.

“The only other Arbiter capable of performing Synalinks on me was my mother,” you say. “Note the past tense.” 

You experience a phantasmal ripple with him as the epicenter. It’s the weakest emotion you’ve inadvertently picked up from him, so you assume it’s nothing of consequence. 

“Passing blurs aren’t worth risking your life over.” 

You rise to your feet. 

“How do you know that?” You challenge, heat rushing to your cheeks. “These homes, these buildings, these streets… they’re either data on my screen or conveyed to me through someone who acts like they’re listing parts in a machine. I have to see it. I have to commit each ‘passing blur’ to memory. Otherwise…” 

What have I sacrificed my freedom for? 

Blade’s eyebrows furrow. 

“Otherwise…” you shake your head. “Forget it.” 

During the ensuing silence, your phone buzzes. 

You had set it on do not disturb for the upcoming meeting. A few contacts were granted an exception, meaning that this message must be urgent if it went through. You swallow the lump growing in your throat. An exhausted part of yourself reasons that it can wait until the meeting’s conclusion. It wouldn’t do you any good to get worked up beforehand, would it? The message will still be there when it’s finished. Then you’ll be able to commit all your bandwidth to its contents. This reasoning is a tempting mistress cooing at you to come join her in bed. The momentary relief will be as sweet as the aftertaste is bitter. 

Responsibility triumphs in the end. After inputting the necessary passcodes, a message four words long scrawls across your screen.

The product is ready. 

A simple code had been devised between you and the alchemist entrusted with testing Kafka’s synthetic tonic. The product isn’t ready yet would mean the sly woman bluffed, or at the very least, exaggerated her 70% comparison claim. You’d gladly take either. She’s sewn deceit before, she’d have no trouble doing it again. In case the alternative was true, you prepared another code; the code you just received. 

You reread it once. Twice, then thrice. You check if the message came from the right number. It did. You check again. 

This frantic fixation consumes you to such a degree, you don’t register the cabin jerking aside. The delay from your reflexes throws your equilibrium off. Squeezing your eyes shut, you brace yourself for an unceremonious rendezvous with the floor. Your right side does come into contact with a hard surface, except it’s sooner than you anticipated. Warmer, too. 

This heat is different from what’s produced inside the Nectary’s gemstones. It’s personal, containing the distinct thrum of life. There’s also an aroma. Slightly floral, mostly spices you don’t recognize. Then there’s this steady sound — consistent enough to put a metronome to shame. A slow thump, thump, thump. 

“How have you survived this long, clumsy as you are?” 

Blade isn’t speaking any louder than he normally would, but you can hear him better. 

“Hey, I’m… not… clumsy…?” 

It’s only when you open your eyes that you’re able to piece together your current predicament. 

Blade’s steadying you by your shoulders and your cheek is pressing against his chest. You always knew he was tall, but having him tower over you this close gives you a new perspective. As does the fact he doesn’t immediately shove you off after breaking your fall. Your body goes stiff enough to rival rigor mortis.

“Accident prone, then.”  

This swipe has you desperate to reaffirm your authority. “You should’ve just… let me fall then! Maybe I wanted to, what do you know!” 

(It sounded better in your head). 

“Are you positive you’re over a century old?” 

An equally snarky rebuttal blooms on your tongue, only to immediately wither, turning to ash that coats the ground. 

There’s the sound of a dying star, a dirge announcing the end. 

What one hears before their name is reduced to an epitaph or an alphabetized list neatly organizing the recently deceased. It’s loud, then it isn’t. Hideous, then hypnotizing. Yellows and oranges and reds swirling in a serpentine motion that mocks you for thinking you ever conquered it. Civilizations can temporarily subdue it, bend it to their will, but it’s not ever truly theirs. The sovereignty of flame is a dynasty everlasting. It may rise, it may fall, but it can’t ever be truly extinguished. 

You’re sent flying back with enough power that the air is forced from your lungs. It’s as if an Aeon’s hand had pushed your body aside, dragging you to the edge of the universe. You’re released from the scorching maw and into an icy nothingness. 

The planet itself is frozen for a time. 

There’s no strength in your body. Your system has been injected with pure, raw adrenaline, causing your limbs to shake and ignore your commands. Your ears are ringing and your eyesight is blurry. Tears cleanse the pollutants from your eyes. A dark swath covers your body, its weight hindering your feeble attempts to move. Determination alone wills you to emerge from this shadowy cocoon. 

The ringing fades and all is quiet, save for the crackling of fire. 

Then the screaming begins. 

You try identifying the source. You think you may have found it, then it starts elsewhere, a different pitch, a different soul lot in lament. Bloodcurdling shrieks rise alongside the thick smoke. You’re being a stretch of buildings that loom imposingly, obsidian spires reaching up to the night sky. The masonry required to maintain their reign basks in the flames. The unusual surplus of light unveils its secrets, from the cracks in the stone to the faded graffiti bored kids left behind. 

The ground is uneven, unlike the glossy pavement found in the entertainment district. This dull, grayish-blue soil with the consistency of fine powder exhibits the true nature of Eris’ untreated exterior. It’s cool to the touch and takes pleasure at the chance to stain your fine clothes. 

Your wandering mind is brought back upon hearing a sputter nearby. You’re not sure where you are, what you’re doing, or why you’re doing it; but you remember you weren’t alone. 

“Blade…” The name comes out as a croak. “Where…?” 

You can’t call out to him, it’s like cotton has been stuffed down your esophagus. 

There’s movement in the corner of your eye. 

You make the mistake of trying to stand. Your arms might’ve begun to heed your commands, but your legs do not. The worst insurrectionists are your ankles. The instant you try putting any weight on them, they collapse as if you were a newborn doe. Recognizing this strategy’s incompetence, you drag yourself over to where you saw movement instead. The coarse ground rubs at and scratches your skin. 

Upon closer inspection, your heart stops. 

The dark swath — that’s Blade. 

He’s in a far worse state than you. His entire backside has been scorched, displaying angry red blisters and split skin just barely hanging on. His right arm is bent in an awkward position, most certainly broken. Then there’s his left arm, or lack of it. Clumps of limp sinew hang where his arm should be joined to his shoulder joint. The force of the impact must’ve blown it off or eviscerated it entirely. 

He’s lying on his side, facing away from you. A pool of blood forms beneath him, mixing with the soil. The coupling results in a sickly mauve that creeps and seeps inch by inch. 

The fire… it’s coming from the guides, you realize. The cabin has been torn to pieces!

This begs the question: how are you alive? 

You should be covered in burns at the very least. Some of your clothes got charred, you think a rib or two might be broken, but you’re living and breathing. There’s a gap in your memory where the previous events should be. You try recalling whatever you can, no matter how seemingly insignificant. You were moved aside as the roaring got louder, and then there was the sound of glass shattering, heat to cold… 

Blade must have intervened. Did he use the few seconds before the fire caught up to break the window and toss you out? That can’t be right; you’d have glass entrenched in your skin and burns on whichever side faced the explosion. Surely, with his inhuman reflexes, he could’ve come out relatively unscathed. 

Unless he chose to shield you. 

You don’t think, you just act. First, by tearing the hem of your long skirt, then second, pressing it against the gaping wound where his shoulder abruptly ends. Gushes of crimson spill through your first makeshift bandage. You throw it aside, rip at your garments again, repeating the process in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. A Stellaron Hunter must have a robust constitution, right? He was able to act faster than you could think. He can survive this — you just need to stop the bleeding until you can get help. Kafka has to have connections with advanced medical factions. 

Tears stream down your face and you sniffle relentlessly. Your hands are caked in soot and blood, the scent of burnt skin and metal clings to your nostrils. Is he going to die? Is he already dead? You can’t bring yourself to check his pulse. How could he be willing to die for you in the short period of time you’ve known one another? He could’ve concocted any excuse for why he failed Kafka’s assignment, you’re certain he’s more indispensable to their cause than you are. 

Blade stirs. 

You think that it’s your imagination playing tricks on you. A cruel joke to remind you that you make your living off shaping reality for others, temporarily giving them what they want at the price of never truly having it. 

Or so is your conviction until he moves again. 

You’ve heard of muscles twitching after death to give the false impression of life. However, you’ve never witnessed the phenomenon yourself. Is this how it works? It isn’t sporadic, his right arm is sweeping over the ground, fingers flexing. Much to your astonishment, he pushes himself up with the arm that was contorted into a horrible shape a minute ago. The pain he’s experiencing must be excruciating and yet he merely grunts as he shifts into a sitting position. 

“Stop moving,” you rasp out. With your most recent bandage in hand, you go to apply pressure to the left arm socket. 

He responds to your fervent desperation in a low, gravelly voice. 

“Don’t bother.” 

Don’t bother? Is he in a coherent state of mind? If you don’t attend to his gushing wound, he’s at risk of bleeding out. You prepare to ignore his utterance when a strange sight freezes you in place. 

A white structure emerges from his raw, mangled arm socket, descending like water pouring from a pitcher. It solidifies and takes the shape of a humerus. Once finished, it goes on to create the radius and ulna. Next are the carpals, metacarpals, then phalanges. Tendons join them together, fibrous muscles envelop the bones. Finally, in the blink of an eye, fresh layers of skin build atop one another in sheets. He clenches and unclenches his newly formed hand. 

If defying death is a sin, he is laden in iniquity.

“What hurts?” Blade asks. 

You’re too aghast to respond. His body just stitched itself back together without any medical treatment or esoteric healing techniques. Is it possible you’re hallucinating? Can a visual hallucination be this vivid? 

He reaches out. Seconds prior to his hand coming into contact with your bare skin, you furiously shake your head, flailing backward and narrowingly avoiding him. His eyes bore down on you like molten magma. He retracts his hand after a drawn-out pause. 

“If you can’t speak, point instead.” 

Dazedly, you follow his instructions, focusing primarily on your ankles. They’ve swollen since you last checked. The flesh is tender and puffy. 

“I’ll carry you,” he says. “Stay still.”

“Wait,” you manage to wheeze out. “This area… residential… have to help…!”

A coughing spell cuts your hoarse plea short. 

“That explosion was meant for you. Whoever set it off will want to ensure their job’s success.”

Blade reaches out for you again. You duck to avoid his grasp, despite the pain throbbing in your chest cavity from the hasty movement. The adrenaline must be fading if your brain is doing inventory on the damage you’ve sustained, rather than focusing on survival. Hot waves test your resolution. You grit your teeth. If you make a show of your pain, he’s not going to change his decision. 

He speaks your name in a low, warning tone. 

Adamant in your refusal, you point to where the cries for help are the loudest. 

“It’s not my priority,” he says. 

He easily grabs you on his third try and you yelp. The sluggishness of his previous attempts must've been out of consideration for you. His right arm interlocks behind your knees while the left supports your back. You thrash to no avail, his grip remains ironclad. Your struggles amount to nothing but perspiration clinging to your skin and more aches. 

The nearest medical unit to this street is at least thirty minutes away, now that the guides are out of order, you think. That isn’t fast enough…! Every second counts!

In your panic, a sacred vow made decades ago is desecrated. 

You cup Blade’s face in your shaky hands and stare him straight in the eye. 

The previously formed shards come into focus.

It’s monumental, this psyche you’ve barged into without permission. A violation of another’s autonomy. You know this, you condemn yourself for it, yet you press on nevertheless. The previously unknowable architecture that hulks over you is of Xianzhou design. It’s pieced together by bricks as infinite as the stars in the universe, though there is no magnificent shine, only matte stonework. 

This structure… is it a garrison? You wonder. Was Blade a member of the… what’s the name of their military again… Cloud Knights? 

You’ve had Cloud Knight clients before. Their psyches take the likeness of their favorite, scenic expanse on the Hexafleet, the area that they cared for enough to risk their life. The skies would be blue, clouds fluffy and prolific. A sense of duty and patriotism felt palpable. Occasionally, you’d be made privy to grief’s scent carried on a breeze, perhaps from a loved one’s passing or comrade’s untimely death in battle. 

This is a riddle you need to solve swiftly. With a little tampering, you can form a link. It’s immoral, a blight to your personal code, but you’ll leverage enough influence for Blade to stay and help any survivors until help arrives. Whatever consequences arise can be dealt with later. 

Even with the heightened mental sensitivity from making direct physical contact, this is proving a challenge. You can see his psyche but you can’t interact with it. It’s like running your hands through vapor. For you to successfully exert enough influence to change a decision he’s dead set on, you’ll need to go deeper. Inside this fortress sits the recesses of his mind, the bottom of an ocean you’re merely skimming the surface of. The intrusion’s necessity twists your gut as if your intenses were being kneaded. 

Your incorporeal form flutters to the gates, standing solitary against a leaden backdrop. 

The closer you get, you become increasingly aware of a malicious entity permeating behind the doors which strain to contain it. This is the same harrowing presence you felt when he protected you from Alister. Now that you’ve spent more time with Blade, you can discern its essence is different from his, although they’re forcibly intertwined like a rope. Blade emanates this unremittingly morose energy. It’s bleak, unconcentrated. 

This substance oozes a need to satiate bottomless bloodlust. It wants to sink its teeth into flesh, lacerate muscles, and slice through bone. Mayhem and viscera are its highest raison d'être. There’s no sensibility, no reasoning with it, it acts in one way then shifts on a whim; chaos inside a splintering bottle. 

How is Blade capable of functioning with this slumbering beast ready to wreak havoc at any second? 

Steeling your resolve, you prepare to enter.

A seal halts your progress. 

Impatience urges you to dispel it. Blade’s psyche is rejecting you, any further delays will give it ample opportunity to flush you out. 

The kaleidoscopic seal thrums and wards off your efforts. 

Someone put this here, you discern. It’s deliberate. 

What perplexes you is that the seal prohibits entry yet does nothing to contain the miasma writhing behind it. Wouldn’t whoever created it intend to keep that salivating beast at bay? It’s well-crafted too, denying your every attempt to eliminate it. Kafka dabbles in mind-altering. Could she have left this here? You know what her aura feels like — calm, confident, cunning — this seal radiates none of her trademarks. 

An invisible force hauls you back. 

You took too long — Blade’s psyche is expelling the foreign invader. 

You blink and you’re back in reality. 

Blade is grimacing, the lines on his face highlighted by flickering flame. There’s a pallor to his complexion brought on by the aggressive expulsion his mind pulled off. An act such as that leeches off of one’s vitality. He takes a moment to recompose himself, as do you. Any subsequent attempts to form a link are going to be wrung from a desiccated source. You don’t know how many attempts you have left in you, 

“A first offense, I could pardon,” Blade pants out, blood-red hues shining, “A recidivist like yourself, though… can’t go undisciplined.” 

Your eyes widen. How did he know your intentions so quickly? You hadn’t so much as moved yet! 

There’s a dull discomfort blooming from your nape. 

Your eyelids feel heavy and your breathing slows. Black spots float around in your vision. They start small, appearing as if they were polka dots, then grow to be the size of black holes. Your muscles won’t move. The unconscious realm beckons. Its gravitational pull is irresistible, a tide you can’t swim against. 

What is this? Your neck… did he strike a nerve…? 

“You’ll be fine,” a distant, sonorous voice promises. “Just sleep.” 

The sentence has been delivered. 

You’re made prisoner to a dreamless slumber. 

[mrclairdycat]

HUMAN THINGS THAT WOULD SHOCK/CONFUSE WALLY DARLING: A THREAD.

Slight gore warning, I think?

People waxing and plucking their hair.

Nail art. He would love it.

Tumblr. If you gave him tumblr he would end up scrolling all day to see art, and spam post his own. I'm sure he would also feel obliged to comment under every post to compliment the art, he's such a nice little fella

Organs. He would find them silly and interesting. You would show him pictures of organs and he would ask things like:"do you have different colored organs? Can I see yours?"

The fact that we have to go to the bathroom? Imagine being like: "Yeah whenever we consume things we need to make it go out of our bodies aswell." He would be like: "... Neat." He would then play by flushing the toilet numerous times, he would find it fun. He probably would end up clogging it up because he tries to see how many things it can flush.

Human teeth.

Iphones. He would like it since the logo is an apple. He wouldn't play with the phone he would just add it to his collection of apple things.

Videogames? He thinks that the character in the screen is real and he's controlling them. You explain how they don't exist. "How can you be sure about that?" he asks, "cause we make them, they're just codes." "But how can you be sure they just dont know they're alive since they can't tell you?" he asks again: you start rethinking the many times you tortured characters in The Sims.

Pokemon. He would think the creatures are real too. He would lose his shit to Applin. He would ask: "Can I have him?" and you'll buy him the plushie and say they don't live here cause you don't have the heart to tell him it doesn't exist.

Certain animals?? He would be confused on why don't they speak. He sees them as people, he would be like "Why did you lick me? That's weird," to a dog... and then lick him back cause he thinks its a human world thing. You say:"thats just how he communicates affection, " and he would start licking people too to show his affection in this language.

Emojis. If he started messaging he would spam emojis. Probably thinks audio messages are like calls, and you're left with a spam of audio messages that are like: "Hello? Hellooo? Why aren't you saying anything?"

Digital art. He would look in awe. "I have unlimited colors? That's fun."

Sensory videos. He would be like an ipad kid. His face is on the screen watching the videos all day. ShApeS anD CoLoRs.

Sensory toys. He would love them aswell.

Deodorant. "We spray this on our armpits," you say. "Why?" he asks. "Because we sweat and produce smelly liquids," you reply. "... Ew."

Showers. He would be like a cat, he would hate showers at first. He doesn't understand why you would want to be wet. You would then randomly find him standing in the shower with an intense fixiated look on his face as the warm/hot water pours down on him. He likes the feeling.

Speaking about warmness, he would absolutely love how warm humans are. He would just randomly hug you cause he likes how warm and comforting it feels. Probably would like sleeping with you aswell and cuddle.

Human movies and tv shows. He would think those are things happening for real. You explain that it's like theatre. "... Wow, your theatre is very realistic," he says.

Wars. He would be so confused. "Why would you hurt your neighbours? That's bad, just discuss things pacifically." Probably would make him sad. He wants everyone to be friends and an happy community.

Meat. I'm pretty sure in Welcome Home they only eat fruits and vegetables? Idk. He would ask:"Since humans are also animals, do you eat eachoth-" "No. That's illegal," you reply. "... What's an illegal?" he asks. "It's a rule: humans are prohibited from eating each other," you respond. "... Since I'm not a human can I eat one-" "NO."

People making out. He would stare at them. He finds it gross but interesting, he doesn't view it as a intimate sexual thing just a weird thing human do.

Certain social rules. Why can't you just say hi to someone and speak to them as if they're your friend? Why is it rude to stare?

An apple factory. Like the fruit. So... many... apples. He would be sad some apples get thrown away and tries to 'save' them.

Blood. You would try to explain it, he understands it as just red water circuling inside your body. He would play with blood or finger paint with it and won't understand why that is an horrifying image.

Spotify. Unlimited music?? You can save your favourites to listen to them whenever you want? Wow.

Pollution. He would go crazy and blow up. WHY WOULD YOU HARM AND LITTER YOUR HOME?? AAAARGH!!

Homeless people. You're telling me there are people who don't have a home? Everyone needs a home! Why don't they give them a home?!

Preschool. A place where you spend your entire day fingerpainting, reading books, making stuff and dancing? All of the things he loves the most. He would infiltrate into one, the teacher would probably call the police, he would get asked questions. He just wanted to have fun too....

Discovering that in grammar saying "the most" without anything else is just incorrect and doesn't make sense. He doesn't like being corrected about it. It's his thing. Don't correct him.

Cuss words. He would be shocked at how many cuss words he hears daily: watch your profanity.

Space?? People being on planets?? His mind would blow up.

Birth. You... make humans?? You create yourself? What do you mean they grow inside of you? How? Does it just randomly happen? You would rather die than teach him about sex. You say that you were kidding and a stork brings the babies for those who want one, it's their job. "Ohhh, that makes more sense," he says. Then he sees a cat or dog giving birth and just implodes.

Therapists. He would like them cause they would be the closest thing to his neighbours. He doesn't understand, however, why they demand to get paid for being friendly.

History. You're telling me there was a time when your kind didn't exist? And you know that because of just... history? How? What??

Earrings. To him it just looks like you're stabbing yourself.

[hydranomago]

► Hypmic Stage OG Cast Backstage Final Farewell

A new cast will be added to HypSute starting from 2024 [promo vid here](Personally will miss OG cast like hell, they've really grown into their roles)

Thank you dear cast for bringing these characters to life 🙏 [Master Post] for more HypMic Stage Videos

OG cast farewell highlights (below cut!)

Kuko hyping up an imaginary audience, only for Jyushi to respond to it cutely

Sasa & Sama distance issues with camera (they have 1 braincell)

honestly just ✨ SASARA ✨ (I don't believe anyone could play him like Mackey does, I'll miss this cat-coded silly clown so much)

Sasa not telling DT beforehand for synchronisation

Taiyou's Jakurai is so calming

Already miss first Doppo's actor (Miyagi Kodai) for his extreme bows

YASUI AS RAMU YASUI AS RAMU YASUI AS RAMU (he's too adorable, his mannerisms are spot on)

But Gentaro (Sakata's version) we just got you, and we loved your performance!

FP energy is the best, I stand by what I said

Mom Jyuto, Dad Rio, Grumpy Teen Sama combo you will be missed

As much as I love Abe Alan, I love how he plays Sama more His grumpy tsundere + wet pathetic kitty vibes are immaculate, no one's doing it like him

Rio pulled by Sama for going the wrong way - peak soldier

BB BABIES uwu

Ichiro's buildup and soft 'thank you' + that sign 😂 Jiro: "Nii-san...??? Are we doing it in turns?"

Cast laughing at each other's antics for the last time + that final round of applause 😭♥️

[realshadowfan07]

The autism took over and I made a long list of Luis headcanons. Originally wrote them on paper and colour coded them by category :3

Category 1: the ones without a category

He has autism and OCD because I have autism and OCD and I think they fit him

He is super mega queer (doesn't really label himself, just says queer (this definitely isn't me projecting again))

Trans ftm (there was a whole thread somewhere but i forgot who made it but i love you)

He defo gave himself top and bottom surgery because he's insane like that

Sentimental fella

Multilingual (spanish, english, and french)

He is HAIRY

Still doesn't quite get a lot of english phrases, slang, jokes, etc

HE HAS A LAZY EYE. It could just be game graphics but ITS THERE AND I SEE IT AND IM TAKING IT AS CANON THERE IS MANY SHOTS WHERE HIS EYE BALL IS LIKE THIS ↓

Category 2: romantic ♡

His happiness comes from making his partner happy

VERY VERY romantic

Malewife

Petnames +100

Main love language is touch

He yaps and yaps about how much he adores his partner

He loves praise

Mega gay flirt, but will absolutely become a mess when someone flirts back

Clingy (doesn't want to lose the one person who loves him)

Does all the chores because malewife

Pathetic wet cat

Category 3: angsty stuffs

Dogs/wolves make him very uncomfortable and tense due to what happened to dear old gandpapa

Fire can cause PTSD induced panic attacks (gramps death, and also what happened in the lab thingy)

Loves helping others, but struggles to ask for help because he thinks he doesn't deserve it

VERY low self esteem (his confidence is all a big ol facade)

Not completely comfortable with his body and sexuality, having been raised in erm... A silly not fun environment

His silly little dancing is a form of self soothing

Not a big fan of holidays, because he has nobody to spend them with

Doesn't bother celebrating his birthday

Category 4: interests/likes

Really doesn't like silence because it reminds him of being stuck in a lab, so he ALWAYS has music on in the background on one of them vinyl record playing old people things

Very good cook, would've had to cook a lot for gramps because he's like old and stuff

Collects silly little trinkets and just anything that catches his interest

Gramps defo taught him guitar

Loves loves loves to yap and yap about his interests

Knows how to ride horses 100% because people defo travelled around Valdelobos on horseback

Would very much enjoy a cheeky spa day, needs to relax

Category 5: post re4 because HE IS ALIVE

Refuses to ever use an elevator again because they lead to death and evilness

Craves simplicity 🙏

Again, HATESSS asking for help

Nightmares +100

Believes that he deserved what happened

Depression +100

PTSD +100

Was mega underweight in Valdelobos, but gains healthy chub as he recovers

Selective mutism

Bed bound -> wheelchair -> crutches -> cane

Lets his hair grow

Starts taking care of his hair and suddenly BOOM curls appear

Sometimes needs help to bathe, but he HATES being vulnerable

Cried the first time that Leon helped him bathe

Very much struggled to come out due to the environment he was raised in

Cane is permanent due to mega big ouchie

Back ache +100

Struggles to come to terms with the fact that he's been given a second chance

Uhhhh that's it methinks BYE

[vibke]

Can I hug Pure Vanilla?

He's so sopping wet cat coded/pos/silly

Of course you can! You can't tell from him, but PV really is happy. It's just hard for him to accept that someone doesn't perceive him as a monster after what he did

(I also was trying to keep your PV design while I was drawing, hope it turned out well)

[fumifooms]

Howl’s moving castle dunmeshi AU

I’ve cracked the code I know why I love Marcille x Chilchuck so much. They’re literally just like Howl’s Moving Castle Howl and Sophie. Okok indulge me for a sec I’m about to dump so many pics and ramble for a bit. I want you to see my marchil vision. It’s fabulous extra cringefail hopeless romantic drama queen x grumpy old sad angry caring hardworking person cursed to be here & cursing fate and giving tough love to everything in a miles radius. No one is safe. From either of them. Calcifer or Micheal is Izutsumi. Wait wait no Calcifer is Senshi and Michael is Izutsumi. Senshi as Calcifer works bc Calcifer is just chained to Howl and is there reminding Howl to not die and take care of himself, giving hints about how to break the curse to Sophie, also the fire demon cooks the eggs and bacon checkmate. And then LAIOS IS TURNIP HEAD OH MY GOD THAT WORKS OUT PERFECTLY. Chilchuck & Marcille, screaming terrified of the weird scarecrow chasing after them, meanwhile the weird scarecrow that’s harmless: :(. Wizard Suliman is Falin and the second fire demon is Winged Lion, so bam everything comes full circle.

I’m assuming most people who’ll see this post maybe saw the movie but not the book, and what you need to know is that the movie makes Howl so much dreamier and collected and cool, whereas in the book he’s just a drama queen 24/7 that’s it. He’s a wet cat dressed in expensive sparkly glittery gowns that needs to be yelled at to do anything he needs to do. He complains. He bemoans. Meanwhile Sophie is, honestly pretty like in the movie? Less contrarian and anger issues but will grumble and yells while cleaning nonetheless. Hardworking but will pathetically sit down on a chair in a dark corner to cry about her aching bones and OHH this is ALL because she’s the eldest child and she was doomed for unhappiness and no one can ever love her… So she’ll whack everyone into order and purge her feelings through aggressive cleaning and using weed killer. IS THIS NOT GIVING MARCILLE & CHIL TO YOU?!

There’s this funny widespread take from the fandom:

And it couldn’t be more true in a marchil context either. Like come on. For all of this post just swap the names of Howl for Marcille and Sophie for Chilchuck.

(Last one with the art by Cookiekappa on Tumblr)

Tell me this isn’t so Marcille. Tell me Chil wouldn’t run away from home thinking he’s failed life and is no longer in shape to work and now has to waddle in self-pity, seeking out wizards which he hates and finds shady bc it’s his last option, and then end up a maid & cleans everything out of spite and also worry for the person living there. Tell me Marcille wouldn’t throw a depressed slime tantrum so bad that it causes a partial town evacuation because her wails summon unknown horrors, over her HAIR. Forget slime she’d blow up the house instantly. She would breakdance as refusal to go see the king. Chilchuck would call her a slitherer-outer and she would gasp in offense and they’d have a fight.

Marcille having full on poems laying around and then Chil & Izu seeing them and being like "Ah yes, this must be a spell, it makes no sense and is so extra, just like how silly our resident witch and her magic is". Izutsumi going "Okay peepaw I’ll teach you how to use a magical bucket just take one step forward-" and they immediately fuck it up and they’re left stranded in far unknown lands. Chilchuck complaining that HIS BACK HURTS. And at every turn or something mildly inconveniencing him "NOTHING GOOD EVER HAPPENS TO THE MIDDLE CHILD".

And can we talk about the aging motif, the curse… Marcille never letting herself grow close to someone even though she does all these grand gestures for them at first. Meanwhile her fear of loss stares at her straight in the eye whenever she looks at 90 years old Chilchuck, and her deciding to not run away from their relationship is what ends up healing both of them. She gets over her fear of intimacy and he grows over feeling like a terribly dull unlovable failure. Me sobbing when I remember how Sophie’s curse of being old is a self-inflicted manifestation of herself thinking she’s romantically unlovable and weak…….

This is it for now but rest assured that I want to make art of this, have these memes for now

[rodolfoparras]

NOOOO because. listen. we have a cat and my dad, this big, huge, gruff man who’s done manual labor his entire life… is absolutely in love with her. shes so tiny even though shes four years old and he loves petting her and scratching her head and she loves my dad. i have looked over way too many times to see this cat resting on his lap while he smokes a cigarette. he talks to her all the time in a silly little voice like “kitty cat… has mama not given you your wet food today? my poor girl. sweet girl” and its sooo price coded -🐾

Oh no my little heart hurts because price would def baby talk the kitty

“Where’s my special girl,” “ooh big stretch huh?” “I’m your favorite here aren’t I?”

[starcanwrecked-confessions]

I think sopping wet cat is a fun and silly phrase. I feel like people take it too seriously.

If I say "Paul matthews is a sopping wet cat" I'm not saying "awww paul is so itty bitty and soft and pathetic!" I'm saying he's like.. got that vibe, y'know? He's got that energy. If i saw a fucked up tuxedo cat in an alley and it scratched me, I'd first be like.. "Holy shit paul matthews coded cat" and then I'd be like "owch".

Perhaps i have this perspective because I am a sopping wet cat at heart, and I see a lot of myself in Paul.

~~~

[oceantherat]

My preferences on JPN vs ENG voices in Rain code (no spoilers)

Do people care? Probably not. Am I still gonna do it? Hell yeah.

Disclaimer: A bit biased to the dub because I’m more used to it

Yuma: ENG

The Japanese one is alright but it sounds kinda wrong to me and also the English one sounds more like a sopping wet cat and I love him for that

Shinigami: JPN

Her Japanese voice is WAYYY better like to offence to the English voice actor but she legit sound so annoying 😭

Zilch: Eng

They both sound alright tho I think I’m slightly leaning to the English one more

Zange: JPN

Yeah idk he sounds more like an old man here. In the Eng he just sounds like a guy with a rlly raspy voice

Melami: ENG

She sounds so weird in the Japanese version threw me completely off guard like is that even the same character /j

Pucci: JPN

She sounds adorable, I think it fits her much better

Aphex: not sure

Idk about this one tbh they both fit

Yakou: ENG

Yeah no Dazai did it better /j

Eh it’s probably just cause I’m not used to it but the japanese one sounds weird

Halara: ENG

Idk they just sounds better to me in english, more serious?? Idk how to explain it

Desuhiko: not sure

I like both the voices

Fubuki: ENG

I think I like her English voice slightly more, it leans into her personality imo

Vivia: ENG

The Japanese one sounds a little generic to me idk

Yomi: JPN

I love both voices the Japanese one is silly and also fits him and the English one is really funny to me

Martina: English

I think the deeper voice fits, kinda similar to Halara

Seth: ENG

NOPE NOPE NOPE THAT IS NOT THE SAME MAN #NOTMYSETH CRAWLING BACK TO THE ENGLISH ONE WHERE DID MY PATHETIC LITTLE MAN GO

Guillaume: idk

They sound the same, that’s a good thing

Swank: ENG

Probably the bias shining through here

Kurumi: Eng

She sounds kinda annoying in the Japanese one

Makoto: ENG

I’m not gonna lie, I heavily dislike his Japanese voice. Like it sounds silly but like idk women voicing men has always kinda irked me if it’s really obvious

On the other hand I LOVE his English voice so much it’s insane killing him with my mind /j

[play-rough]

i headcanon that the baby is so wet cat coded that atsushis feline instincts warmed up to him. we can all agree that byakko is a female cat. so i just imagine dazai being fussy and the tiger in atsushi makes him go up to him and try and help or comfort him, even if he ends up regression most of the time, too. one time, during the full moon, byakko went and found dazai and tried to baby him, but that obviously led to her being nullified.

byakko is not pleased with dazais ability.

both atsushi and dazai choose to not talk about how atsushi woke up in his dorm hazardously laying over dazai really awkwardly.

yeah its silly i js love thinking about the tiger and the bond atsushi and dazai have 💔

— 🕸️

Dazai and Byakko are besties 😭 kept apart by no longer human 😭💔

I constantly think about @avengersasssemble and how they gave the baby a stuffed tiger in their fic because Dazai is sad that Byakko always disappears 😭❤️❤️❤️