#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~

[hinamie]

you should draw kuna more

guy shrugging emoji

[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

[k1mkitsurag1]

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

[least-transmcytshowdown]

Joel Smallishbeans:

Submitted for: Hermitcraft, Third Life, Last Life, Double Life, Limited Life, Secret Life, Wild Life, Empires SMP Season 1, Empires SMP Season 2

Headcanons: Transmasc, he/they; Trans man, he/him; Genderfluid, any pronouns; Trans masc, it/he/she; Transmasc Genderfluid, he/any; Identity not specified, they/he

Propaganda: “He’s just a silly little terracotta man with only a vague understanding of human gender he tries to impersonate but fails at.”

“Lizzie and Joel are a t4t bi4bi couple in [the submitter’s] heart. Lizzie transfem (she/her) Joel transmasc+gender fluid (he/any).”

“Basically anywhere you see him. Just like, the constant ‘Ooh i'm so manly, the manliest, I’m so tall and strong and handsome,’ and always insisting that he’s really tall despite being super short and the way his voice will sometimes get all high and squeaky these are all very transmasc coded things. He’s one of us, okay, he’s got the vibes, trust, he’s got our humor. Every time he goes mining on Hermitcraft there is always a caption that’s like ‘straight white male mining content’ which is more of his constant need to assert how macho and manly he is and in double life he says he’s not going to get in the pool cause he’s ‘ashamed of his Minecraft body’ which is very trans behavior. He’s got that confidence he can wear a dress for mcc and still know he’s a man which is very transmasc cause other men just got handed it, but we afab men have to look at masculinity and go ‘yeah that’s me’ and then make sure everyone knows it like that’s how you know being trans isn’t a choice because men kinda suck and I still went out and actively was like um guys I’m actually a man sorry. Some days he’s cool with just throwing gender norms out the window and some days he feels the need to yell for the whole world and the next couple galaxies as well to hear that he’s DeFiNiTeLy NoT WeArInG a CoRsEt GeM. Can you tell [the submitter’s] projecting? Cause [they’re] projecting. You can pry this headcanon out of [their] cold dead hands lol.”

“He has fluctuating chest dysphoria so sometimes he doesn't bind and sometimes he does. His bad dysphoria days are rare enough that he's not gonna bother with top surgery.”

“Transmasc Joel Smallishbeans is everything to [the submitter] and [the submitter] like[s] to think that forming the bad boys is what made him plug the tv back on and turn the brightness to the max, like he went ‘Oh we’re bad boys?? Guess I’m finally a boy now!”

“Nonbinary bad boy Joel except he is not a boy.”

"First, [the submitter] think[s] she was raised as a gender that just. doesn't exist here. She was raised in Mezalea where how gender works is just. different and, because she has a beard, everyone assumed she was a man but she's NOT and in recent years has been figuring out her own identity and pronouns in a way she hasn't ever thought about before and also she and Lizzie are butch4femme, amen. Or bi4bi. Both? She’s a masculine person and she likes stuff like the bad boys because it's more of a title separate from her gender. She’s just a masculine woman, amen.”

“He's a sopping wet tanooki (cat /j) and [jizzie] are t4t bi4bi coded.”

“Joel hasn't been called girlfriend/wife/girl by his friends for NOTHING. Bro’s the definition of gender and he slays in a dress no matter what (in Minecraft and in irl)."

Joel Smallishbeans:

Submitted for: Hermitcraft, Third Life, Last Life, Double Life, Limited Life, Secret Life, Wild Life, Empires SMP Season 1, Empires SMP Season 2

Headcanons: Transmasc, he/they; Trans man, he/him; Genderfluid, any pronouns; Trans masc, it/he/she; Transmasc Genderfluid, he/any; Identity not specified, they/he

Propaganda: “He’s just a silly little terracotta man with only a vague understanding of human gender he tries to impersonate but fails at.”

“Lizzie and Joel are a t4t bi4bi couple in [the submitter’s] heart. Lizzie transfem (she/her) Joel transmasc+gender fluid (he/any).”

“Basically anywhere you see him. Just like, the constant ‘Ooh i'm so manly, the manliest, I’m so tall and strong and handsome,’ and always insisting that he’s really tall despite being super short and the way his voice will sometimes get all high and squeaky these are all very transmasc coded things. He’s one of us, okay, he’s got the vibes, trust, he’s got our humor. Every time he goes mining on Hermitcraft there is always a caption that’s like ‘straight white male mining content’ which is more of his constant need to assert how macho and manly he is and in double life he says he’s not going to get in the pool cause he’s ‘ashamed of his Minecraft body’ which is very trans behavior. He’s got that confidence he can wear a dress for mcc and still know he’s a man which is very transmasc cause other men just got handed it, but we afab men have to look at masculinity and go ‘yeah that’s me’ and then make sure everyone knows it like that’s how you know being trans isn’t a choice because men kinda suck and I still went out and actively was like um guys I’m actually a man sorry. Some days he’s cool with just throwing gender norms out the window and some days he feels the need to yell for the whole world and the next couple galaxies as well to hear that he’s DeFiNiTeLy NoT WeArInG a CoRsEt GeM. Can you tell [the submitter’s] projecting? Cause [they’re] projecting. You can pry this headcanon out of [their] cold dead hands lol.”

“He has fluctuating chest dysphoria so sometimes he doesn't bind and sometimes he does. His bad dysphoria days are rare enough that he's not gonna bother with top surgery.”

“Transmasc Joel Smallishbeans is everything to [the submitter] and [the submitter] like[s] to think that forming the bad boys is what made him plug the tv back on and turn the brightness to the max, like he went ‘Oh we’re bad boys?? Guess I’m finally a boy now!”

“Nonbinary bad boy Joel except he is not a boy.”

"First, [the submitter] think[s] she was raised as a gender that just. doesn't exist here. She was raised in Mezalea where how gender works is just. different and, because she has a beard, everyone assumed she was a man but she's NOT and in recent years has been figuring out her own identity and pronouns in a way she hasn't ever thought about before and also she and Lizzie are butch4femme, amen. Or bi4bi. Both? She’s a masculine person and she likes stuff like the bad boys because it's more of a title separate from her gender. She’s just a masculine woman, amen.”

“He's a sopping wet tanooki (cat /j) and [jizzie] are t4t bi4bi coded.”

“Joel hasn't been called girlfriend/wife/girl by his friends for NOTHING. Bro’s the definition of gender and he slays in a dress no matter what (in Minecraft and in irl)."

[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!

[insomniiuh]

he is so wet cat coded… tell me you see it…

killian TRISTAN MCFORD. my wife

[cupcakewebkinz]

Coffee and crushes

☕︎ Sprout and Cosmo find themselves playing match maker for a moment as Shelly and Vee are so stupidly in love it hurts and they just have to do something about it ☕︎

♨︎ another caretaker Shanon au prequel! Caretaker Shanon au is mine~ ♨︎

⊹ @soupiestzilla look it's more alive Cosmo, dude he's not dead again! ⊹

────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────

Cosmo blew a raspberry as he sat down at the cafe counter, being a bit bummed that he couldn't work in the diner with his boyfriend today, but he was sure it could be worse. A lot worse... Shelly soon came over to get her morning coffee and she looked like she hadn't slept in weeks.

"Good morning Shelly, how can I help you this morning?" He cheerfully asked her regardless of her poor state, and she just stared at him for a good minute, blinked, then yawned.

"Vee..." she mumbled tiredly, getting a soft chuckle from the swiss roll, who knew exactly why she said that. The two had been crushing on each other obviously for years, everyone knew they'd eventually get together, but the question was when.

"I'm sorry, she can't work at the cafe Shells, she can't get wet." Cosmo softly reminded her, making her stare back at him before she realized her mistake and covered her mouth, blushing darkly as she did so.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry, I've been thinking about her so much haha- uh, just a caramel macchiato is fine, thank you Cosmo." She replied, waving it off like it was no big deal. Cosmo just nodded, writing down her order before he passed it to the barista behind him before he looked back at the barely awake fossil.

"You know, Sprout said she's always at the diner in the morning, she likes talking to Glisten as he eats breakfast. Maybe you can catch her before she leaves, I'm sure she'd love to see you." Cosmo suggested, winking at her afterwards. Shelly just looked like she died inside, hugging herself as she messed with the sleeves of her dress, her face tomato red.

"Hahahaaaaa great one Cosmo, surely she'd love to see anyone but me, I'm just, awkward old Shelly and she's like, the COOLEST toon ever!" She replied nervously, getting a sigh and a shrug from Cosmo as he gently took her coffee order from the barista, then a straw for her, then he handed the two to the red faced fossil.

"You never know, she could think you're cool too, you should give talking to her a try." He softly reassured, waving a little at her as she skittered off like a rat escaping a hungry cat, though he knew exactly where she was going. He grabbed the phone on the counter and called the diner.

Sprout was working the counter at the diner, and he had quite an interesting situation on his hands. Vee was sitting on her usual barstool, though she was really deep in thought, barely even paying attention to anyone who was trying to talk to her. This was extremely unlike her, usually Vee was socializing the hell out of everyone and teasing them, but right now it was just a blank stare at the counter as she thought. Sprout looked at the phone when it rang though, then sighed, picking it up.

"Diner staff, what's going on now?" He asked, though he couldn't help but smile when he heard Cosmo's lil chaos giggle on the other end.

"Sprout, we have a code pink~" Cosmo excitedly squealed, which made Sprout smile even more.

"Oh my god you didn't just send Shelly over, did you-"

"Oh I diiiiiid, oh she was sooo crushing on her too, you HAVE to tell me what happens at lunch!" Cosmo replied excitedly, making Sprout burst into a fit of giggles.

"You know Vee, I think Shelly's coming over here, what do you think she'd like for breakfast?" He asked casually, making her look up at him.

"You know I will~ Now go back to work silly." Sprout teased, and after very soft whispered "I love yous" were said, they hung up on each other. Sprout watched over Vee again, watching as she traced the markings in the wood in thought, then he cleared his throat.

"Chocolate chip waffles, strawberry syrup, whipped cream on top." Vee stated, then she looked back down and soon was lost in thought again. Sprout looked quite impressed, though he shouldn't be very surprised, she knew everyone's orders by heart since she always sat there. But what really surprised him was that smile she had for a second- that huge grin of "my favorite person is coming!!" that she usually only smiled with her handler, the way her eyes lit up just for a second, oh she's definitely in love and burying it. Sprout just grinned at that. Oh Cosmo's so gonna love hearing about this one later.

"You know Vee, you don't have to-"

"Shut up." She quickly cut him off, now looking at him. "I know that look, it's not working."

"Mhm... Look behind you." Sprout simply commented, and she did, turning around to find Shelly. Shelly just stared at her, and Vee stared back, both having a lot to want to say but unable to. They were scared, yet very excited, if their wagging tails had anything to say about it.

"Good morning b- uh... P-... Shelly." Vee quietly said, having to cut herself off before she called her anything cutesy, her hand now over her mouth a little as her screen gained a bright green hue to it. Shelly glanced away, blushing herself.

"Good morning, Vee. Uhm... What did you almost call me though?" Shelly asked curiously, though soon was giggling as Vee just turned away, obviously embarrassed to hell and back now.

"Beautiful and pretty-" Vee blurted out, figuring there was no escaping now.

"Oh, t-thank you, Vee. You're... Really pretty too..." Shelly softly replied, the two of them now awkward blushing disasters, Shelly now sitting on the barstool beside Vee while they both avoided each other's gaze. Sprout pretended he didn't care, but he was so internally rooting for them, he knew they'd confess sometime.

"So... What kind of fossils did you find yesterday?" Vee asked after a moment, making Shelly gasp as she leaned close.

"I found thee coolest seashells yesterday, from ancient sea life! And we have a full ammonite fossil now! And they're planning on renovating my museum so I have a WHOLE SKELETON IN IT!!! And... You have gorgeous eyes." Shelly rambled before she realized she was even staring at the other, and Vee just nodded, staring back at her, head empty... Only lesbianism.

"Mhm... You're like, a really cool ammonite, you know. Like... A perfect fossil... Have you ever been on display before?" Vee asked, which made Shelly give her a very confused yet hardcore in love look.

"Why would they put me on a display, silly?!"

"The world should admire you, not just me." Vee stated, so oblivious to how obvious her flirting was it hurt. Glisten had came by to check on her and was now staring at them in just as much shock as Sprout was, the two having matching "oh this is JUICY" looks on their faces. The two didn't seem to care, as Shelly was way too embarrassed to let herself think about how public this was while Vee... She's lost in Vee Land. She's a goner. She's very lesbian right now.

"Vee- I- You what?!" Shelly asked when she finally got words in her mind again, not just incoherent gay screaming. Vee just blinked, then put her hand on Shelly's cheek, smiling.

"I like admiring you, you have the prettiest face. Your freckles fit you so well, and the little dirt spots... You're magical." Vee whispered, leaning towards her as if they weren't already extremely close. Shelly was starting to shiver, but she just put her hand on Vee's arm and looked away, not hating this but... It definitely was a bit much. She was never expecting to witness the one toon she really liked being a lovesick fool, yet here she was, inches away from her face, telling her how beautiful she was. It felt... Great.

"Vee... There's people-"

"Ignore them... You're mine right now. Only mine." Vee purred, giving Shelly a quick kiss afterwards. The crowd now watching gasped dramatically, Glisten now striking a cheering pose. They were a sight to be seen... And the toons all watching were thriving seeing two of the mains being so happy together. Even if Shelly was more red than anything now.

"Vee... I love you... So much... But this... This is a lot-"

"I love you too... But I'll move away, I'm sorry." Vee whispered, though before she could move, Shelly pulled her into a tight hug and kissed her, and Vee just kissed right back, clinging to her fossil tight, like she was desperately waiting for this moment her entire life.

Because she was.

The crowd that now included the two's handlers cheered, Veronica taking a photo.

They were so stupid, but they were happily in love, and that's what mattered. For now anyways...

Hours later, Sprout and Cosmo were at the diner together, eating lunch.

"And when Shelly came over man, she went from not caring about anyone to flirting with her immediately. It was so beautiful, she opened right up for her and she was such a flirt." Sprout told his partner, getting a snort and a bunch of giggles from the other.

"Oh please tell me they kissed."

"Twice. They kissed twice. Oh you should've seen the way they held each other and everything, they have been holding back for so long, it was amazing." Sprout explained, pulling his little chubby swissroll closer, who was sat on his lap for cuddle time.

"Duuuude how did you manage to do that?" Cosmo asked excitedly, soon munching on his pizza afterwards, ignoring when Sprout wiped sauce off his cheek with a look of slight disgust on the berry's face.

"Vee simply got lost in lesbians, once I pointed out that Shelly was right there, she was a goner. She was the one flirting most of the time, and probably the one that's going to kill us for sending Shelly over when she was vulnerable." Sprout explained, the two soon laughing at the idea of Vee beating them up for embarrassing her like that.

"Honestly though, that sounds so adorable, I gotta ask Sam if anyone got pictures." Cosmo stated, and Sprout nodded.

"We win today, Veronica got pictures." Sprout informed him, making Cosmo smile and do a little cheer.

"We win! We finally got them to talk about their feelings and we get pictures! Woo!" He cheered, making Sprout laugh a little as he patted Cosmo's head. They definitely did win, being able to see their friends finally be happy, but they also won by being together themselves. Vee was absolutely going to beat them up if she found out they were talking about it though lmao

[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 Paek Seo-Mi, 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. 

[kg2hub]

lies down and touches my hand to the screen in a dramatic fashion,,,,,,,,,,,,,, i finished kg3 and i have Thoughts

not very coherent ones but i miss being here so

EXPLODES IN VICTORY!! LITERALLY ALL MY PAST ANALYSES ABOUT FELIX WERE RIGHT HELL FUCKIN YEAHHHHH!!!!!!!!! i'm not braining rn so i'll just give the short version:

felix is constantly acting smarter than he actually is

all those big words and generally sesquipedalian dialect is 100% a front to contribute to projecting off that image of superiority

adding onto the last points he is so insecure!!!!!

ESPECIALLY insecure about the possibility of his dad treating him the way he treats ted!!!!!!!!!

and!!!!! in kg3 we finally fucking see that confirmed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and the other confirmation, that ted can be and is more capable of him than felix is to be worthy in their dad's eyes

mr. huxley literally says ted's been surprising him lately, and i fucking knew it!!!!! ted's always been determined, he has the drive, and is willing to prove himself that, no, he is better than felix keeps saying he is!!! and we finally see it confirmed in a game he doesn't even physically appear in!!!!!!!!!!!! he is such a badass, i love ted so much

also the fact that mr. huxley in the alt helicopter parenting ending was like "oh well, i have two sons",,,,,,, they're interchangeable to him. ofc. he fits the trope so well, but it still feels so rewarding to have already seen all this coming yk

also, unrelated to anything i thought in the past since we only just got felix's full name recently?? the fact that he's felix norstubble wealthington huxley the third????? i'm crying @ the fact that implies mr. huxley is the second and named felix after himself (and potentially ted and fe's grandpa, who would've been the first) hgfghgfdfdgh

anyway, other non-huxley thoughts!!

scippio is sooooooo sopping wet cat coded wtf /aff

he's just a pathetic boyfailure loser man....... almost like disco elysium harry if u squint (i think i'm just thinking of that game bc i played it for the first time recently but like!! tell me i'm wrong!!!! he drinks!! he's got (three??) ex wives!! he has constant mental breakdowns!!!! they're practically twins /silly)

AUSTIN IS A GOOBER;;;;; he's so sweet i love his personality, he means so well and is so nice, he just Looks like a punk and likes throwing rocks and breaking things but he's a good kid!!!!!!!

he lowkey reminded me of an oc i had when i was 10 who was a troublemaker girl who liked breaking windows with a slingshot, but austin is a character who executes the idea 100% better than she did honestly

jfc. i Was admittedly a little underwhelmed with the characterization of established characters in kg3 and ready to write it off as a little disappointing, or not as good as kg2, but holy fuck that final mission was so badass. i felt so badass solving it. it was a fuckin hugeass boss fight it was literally so epic!!!!!!! i loved that part of it, i think that mission singlehandedly saved it

THE CLIFFHANGER;;;;;;; IM SO HYPED THEY'RE MAKING A 4TH GAME BUT AGHHH!!!!!!! i think i could tell that they're continuing onto thursday-- they literally kept referencing "tomorrow" and kept feeding the player information and lore about the goo and schools and experiments that'll obv have a purpose in a future game, and they booted way too many characters that Should make a comeback. but it's still just hgfhgfdfgh the Waiting..... im sure they've got the story going all the way to friday at least, bc it really feels like it with how much lore they poured into this game.

also ik alice didn't have much personality in kg2, so when i made my rp blog of her i got p attached to that version of her. BUT I NEVER WOULD'VE GUESSED THAT DAVEY WAS THE ONE WHO GOT A TRAIT OF MY RP ALICE AT ALL!! I NEVER THOUGHT ANY KID WOULD!!!!!

but apparently davey is the one who's the "weird kid who ppl don't understand, has a big attachment to a mysterious important creature (linda) and can communicate with them, and gets WAYYY too into fantasy roleplay on the playground"!!! im CRYING that is so incredibly specific, why tf does davey have my "fae and bone riddles" alice personality it's just so funny to me /gen

speaking of alice. hell yeah at least i got a few traits right!!!! pettiness, plays like an actual kid, forgetful. it's okay, as long as i can still hc her goth it's still perfect <3

also. as an adult, i must confess i did swoon a little on her behalf when applegate and bob were "dirty" talking on the phone like!! god pls a spouse who's willing to clean the house for me?? please;;;;;; and willing to get all the tough spaces!! and strong enough to lift the fridge!!!!! god i don't blame applegate at all, i'd marry em too

idk if i have more, this is all i could think of for now 😭

if i think of other stuff i'll just post abt it bc oops this got long;;;; i was supposed to bake cookies an hour ago whoops

[murderandjambalaya]

Stick figure hcs!!!

It’s been a while since I got on tumblr and I STILL haven't posted, like, anything about my hcs (except for old writing from before I switched accts & devices but SHUSH WE’RE NOT LOOKING AT THOSE), so here’s some stick-focused world building stuff (mostly the hollowheads)!

rambles. Very much rambles. Only some coherent rambles. This is your only warning.

WTF IS A GENDER

Most sticks are closer to drawings or computer programs than humans, and their perception of gender reflects this! A few sticks across the outernet might take on more traditionally human genders, but most sticks see gender and pronouns as a fluid extension of their personality and self-expression. How attached a stick is to their gender varies from each individual to the next. That being said, most stick figure “genders” are more like pronouns (or lack of them) + flavors. My flavor hcs for the sticks (or at least the ones I have a clear idea of) are: (EDIT - this was supposed to be gender flavors and it slowly flew away from that but it’s long enough that I don’t want to delete it. I am so sorry.)

Red- uses she/he, cat videos, brainrot, bright blue artificial dye, time-out corner, three yo-yos at once

Orange- uses xe/xem, Yippee, Power of Friendship, orange juice mixed with caffeine in a Monster Energy can, loaf of bread, Take On Me music video but make it cosmic horror

Yellow- uses she/they, raccoon covered in car grease holding a wrench, ridiculously thick goggles+gloves, tism, curious. A bit too curious. Why are you googling “how to get away with arson.”

Green- uses he/him, disaster bi, theater kid (only derogatory during the influencer arc), WHAT’S UP DEMONS, it’s ME, yaoiYA BOI, Siren by Kailee Morgue

Blue- uses all prns, witchcore, “my farmer gf- or as I like to call her, my crop top,” if their eyes open yk you’re fucked, LET HIM COOOKKKK, rhubarb & lemon, Willow from ToH, 🫵rehab

Ourple- uses he/they, moth, capitalism, product is dairy free (father has not returned with the milk yet), “hello, Zuko here,” you’re literally broke how do you have so many suits, anxiety, Cavetown, flower crowns, psychological warfare, “DO YOU EVER FEEL LIKE A PLASTIC BAG*ugly sobbing*”, birb. Birb is love. Birb is life. grisp the birb.

Chosen- uses he/him (anything but ‘it’), Shadow the Hedgehog, Falling in Reverse, Transcendental Cha Cha by Tom Cardy but make it the seven stages of grief, Sobbing on the Ground, *pac man noises*, traumacore, Alan gave me depression bc he knew otherwise I would beat him in hand-to-hand combat at 14, eats pizza crust-first, coffee as dark and bitter as my soul, cornered stray dog, 🇺🇸F🇺🇸R🇺🇸E🇺🇸E🇺🇸D🇺🇸O🇺🇸M🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🦅🦅🇺🇸🇺🇸🍔🍔🍔🍔🍟🍟🍔🦅🦅🇺🇸🇺🇸

Dark- uses he/they (‘it’ when the mission code is in control), Murder, “spider-man, spider-man, does whatever a- OH NO NOT THE CHILDREN,” the crackling sound of a circuit board being broken in half and emitting sparks, ✨extra✨, shoplifting from Hot Topic on a Thursday, I’m Gonna Kill Santa Clause by Danny Gonzalez, masculine but like in a peacock way, knife pronounced “kuh-NIFF-eey”, chaos, the Sillies (aka bloodlust so strong I could commit a felony. Perhaps even multiple felonies.)

Vic- uses she/her (annoying local qpr always wearing the same gender), a woman politician???!!/pos, I’ve been near you for five whole minutes when are you going to murder me already, wet cat, tears, fluffy blankets, bones, space, I miss my wife, Tails. I miss her a lot.

MT- uses he/him, musty crusty Old Man, *eyebrows widen in surprise*, Flashbacks to The War, beefing with literal children, Dad Jokes, dust, depression

Agent- no time to Gender, never beating the loyal dog allegations, lost all whimsy in The Great Fire of 1941, “I just wanna be part of your SYMPHONYYYY,” ink, crunchy, fucked-up lil guy/w bg explosions for dramatic effect, IM SMITH SHADY YES IM THE REAL SHADY ALL YOU OTHER SMITH SHADIES ARE JUST IMITATING SO WONT THE REAL SMITH SHADY PLEASE STAND UP PLEASE STAND UP PLEASE STAND UP

Mitsi- uses she/her, Girlboss, actually the woman ever, paint, daffodils, ashes, earl grey tea, :3 “friend-shaped”

Gold- uses all prns, ash baby, space but it’s a liquid that will suck you into it, LET ME OUT, crayons, cotton, sunlight, glitter, sand, Minecraft end poem

Corndog guy- money, corndogs, repressed godhood, Pink Pony Club by Chappell Roan

Did any of that make any sense? Admittedly, no. Am I saying that if you bit into Red, you would taste artificial blue dye and cat videos? Yes. Absolutely. For added fun, read these like Ao3 tags.

WTF ARE THE HOLLOWHEADS

In my hcs, the hollowheads are not siblings *coughcoughchodarkpropaganda*. However, Vic and Cho are practically twins. Why? A hollowhead’s physical appearance (since I usually draw them like Fleshy Human People) is mostly determined by their creator’s intentions when creating them. Alan can only see them in stick form, so their appearance being shaped by his intentions is kinda like how ppl have hcs of their ocs that are still a part of them even though they’re only in the creator’s head and haven’t been drawn yet. Vic and Cho are so similar bc they’re only in we’re both drawn as punching bags, even though Cho was a challenge and Vic was a training dummy. Sec didn’t actually have a comprehensible mortal form until xey found RGBY (just picture an Eldridge Horror exploring Alanspc when TSC was first introduced) bc Alan created xem without any intent to make xem alive or any idea of what xey’d be for who xey’d be, so TSC is Art. Literally. Xey embody art itself. That’s why xeir whole green glowy power is so effective, it’s not meant to be an offensive measure, but a large part of the outernet IS art, so xey have a very wide range of control (or xey would have, if it was what xe wanted when xe realized it. Xey find more purpose and joy in just existing with xeir friends. Xey connect and create. It’s xeir whole thing).

A hollowhead’s appearance is also heavily shaped by the attachments they make, most notably their secondary colors. Their second color reflects the deepest attachment they make. When a hollowhead is first created, before they make any attachments, their second color is clear. The hollowheads’ pupil/irises being different colors would also make them blind until they form an attachment (light passes through clear stuff instead of being absorbed by it), and by that logic, even while attached, most hollowheads are some form of colorblind. Vic has never not been blind while Dark is the only hollowhead with Rainbow Premium™️. Second’s secondary color is Green, Chosen’s is red, Dark’s is black, and Vic’s was white but faded mostly back to clear with hints of silver (after Misti’s death, Vic kinda self-isolated and got addicted to the VR memory tech). Attachments forming appearances is also the reason why Sec is the only one with a cursor ahoogie. Vic has a large, cursor-shaped scar on their back. It fades while Mitsi helps her heal, but starts growing again once she starts blaming the cursor for Mitsi’s death. Sometimes, during her really bad flashbacks, her old cursor scars will start to show up on her skin, even though she has a new body with no scars each time she’s drawn. Chosen still has all his cursor scars. They function like normal scars. During his terrorist years, Cho also gained a “halo” after seeing the one on the Angel of Death poster. With each attack, he’d gain a few small, jagged, triangular red arrows floating around his head. Dark thought they looked cool, but Chosen would sometimes feel like they were poking him. Cho would gain more arrows per attack as the destruction went on, having an overcrowded full-on halo by the time he stopped killing sticks. It hurts a lot, these days. Sometimes, when the sunlight hits it just right, the halo flashed purple. Although his other powers remained unaffected, Chosen’s fire started to burn a little redder after escaping the PC. After the Showdown, it sometimes burns his hands. Just a little, not so much that he can’t use it anymore. It just hurts when he does. The same thing happened with Dark’s fireballs. They got darker as time went on. Dark only has a few scars. The star-shaped one on his neck only gets deeper. When under the mission code’s influence, Dark’s secondary color reverts to clear and the whites of their eyes go black. With the virabands on, Dark’s pupil/irises turn red. During the Showdown, they had red pupils and black eyes. The virabands also project six small screens in front of their face which look like eyes with the same coloration. These projections act as a targeting system for the virabots, give quick stats on how many are functional, track the location of the other band if only one is being worn, and look really fucking cool (according to Dark).

OK THAT’S PROBABLY ENOUGH FOR ONE POST, thanks for coming to my Ted Talk!

[nariyahcore]

🎟 <- a permission slip for you to talk abt cosmine unrestrained because I am curious about your thoughts 👀

OHHHMMUGOD YES THANK YOU

a lil bit of a rant here

IM NGL IVE NEVER BEEN THAT MUCH OF A TAILSMO FAN BUT THE IDEA OF COSMO EVER INTERACTING WITH NINE SHOOK ME SO BAD TO MY CORE THAT ITS NOW ALL I THINK ABOUT AND I NEED TO RANT ABOUT THIS NOW

apart from the whole she can fix him / he can make her worse, their dynamic would be SO much more interesting than tailsmo (no hate to them i love them)

they’re both doomed by the narrative . no im not apologizing for that

theyre also sk8ter boi coded by avril lavigne and im not elaborating

nine is a sopping wet cat who’s never had any affection love or friendship at ALL (as we can tell how he dealt with sonic in prime….) he’s basically lived isolated like his whole entire life so imagine how he’d react when he first meets Cosmo (who’s a literal PLANT IN THE SMOGGIEST POLLUTED ASS CITY EVER???)

Cosmo would practically be a breath of fresh air (HAHA GET IT?? im sorry) and kind of basically be able to see him for what he is and not what he LOOKS like

I don’t know much on Sonic x BUT from her personality I’d say that they’d balance each other out really nicely,, cosmo is the rose and nine is the thorns that came with it 😋😋

^ also based on her death I think nine would kill everyone and then himself before ever sacrificing cosmo and this makes me mental on a totally normal amount

JUST SOME FOOD FOR THOUGHT,,, there’s probably more that im forgetting but i love them sm…. my sillies….

[sopping-wet-cat-wizard]

✨Swizard's Tag Masterpost✨

🎉Party Crashers Tags:

For this section, formatting follows this pattern: "#main tag (#personal tag)"

#sophist (#purple wizard menace) #king of skill (#green nerd king) #vernias (#pink fluffy angel) #tcnick3 (#orange floral prince)

💕RPF Ship Names:

The following are not labeled in the order I find most aesthetically pleasing, not necessarily by favorite. :3

🧮Core Four Ships:

(Ships only consisting of the core four members of the Party Crashers.)

#poly crashers - Involves all 4 #tcking3 - Nick/Brent #tcsoph3 - Nick/Sophist #tcvern3 - Nick/Vern #king of soph OR #breevee - Brent/Sophist #king of vern - Brent/Vern #sophvern - Sophist/Vern

💌Miscellaneous Ships:

(Ships that includes OCs and self-inserts. May or may not feature a PC member.)

#mon cheroi - Brent/Cherie (WOTC) #mon cherarque - Bertrand/Cherie (WOTC) #cherie crash - Cherie/Crashing (WOTC) #prince of soph - Betrand/Sophist (WOTC) #leevee - Leo/Sophist (TTOS) #toxleo - Tox/Leo (TTOS)

🐈‍⬛Personal Tags:

These tags are a bit less consistent in their content but are no less important and are utilized enough to be relevant.

#the swizard rambles - Add ons to another's post or ramblings within the tags of another's post OR non-pc related posts (this tag is a mess. enjoy!) #serious swizard tag - A tag for serious conversations or topics. #swizard writings - Drabbles or other short story writings #swizard doodles - Any drawings or self-made art #swizard's artistic mischief - Miscellaneous creative creations, such as editing existing images or picrews #the cat themself - Any sort of illustration of the persona Swizard (includes picrews) #lil' apprentice - Pictures and videos of my IRL cat #wet cat lore - Bits and bobs of lore regarding the wet cat character across many AUs

🏘️Community Tags:

This section will be divided into two categories: shenanigans and fan-made content.

👀Shenanigans:

#pc com shenanigans - Lovely examples of the community being silly with each other. #swizard's maidpocalypse - Various members of the pc rpf community in very pretty little maid picrews!

🎨Fan-Made Content:

(Mostly AUs.)

#the weight of the crown - AHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA (this will get it's own masterpost one day) (Original work created by @/pen--anon) #the taste of sugar - King of Soph AU with Sophist being an escort for a rich client code-named "King". (Original idea created by @/starry-sophrosyne) #skill and spill - King of Soph and Tcvern3 coffee shop AU! Brent and Vern work at a coffee shop! Nick and Eevee are customers! Brent sometimes gets grumpy, but when he gets home, at least he can play video games with his mysterious online friend 'Sofist'. (Idea created by @/toadettely) #band au - My unnamed Tcvern3 Band AU. Sophist and Nick want to make a band, so Sophist convinces Nick to go out to a bar so they can find a singer. #pc dw au - Introducing the PC! As toons! It's an AU based on Dandy's World! (Created by @/alumirare) #the curse of the ztar au - Eevee was experimenting on a star, caused it to explode, and created the first ztar. He goes on to curse Brent and Nick who are fighting a war against each other. Silly little alien Vernias comes along to save Nick, also gets cursed. Shenanigans ensue! (Idea by @/deadtiredvictor) #pc go au - A tcvern3 AU inspired by Good Omens featuring demon!Nick and angel!Vernias. (Created by @/under-the-ground-fanfics) #pc phasmophobia au - Phasmophobia hijinks ensue as our group of four use their special skills in this dangerous business! Spirits love Vern, Sophist loves cursed items, and Nick's got luck on his side! If all else fails, Brent has a secret trick up his sleeve.... (Created by @/honeybombgoesboom)

If you made it this far, have a piece of candy. 🍬

[slayedfrr]

sigh this took me WAYY 2 long

he is so wet cat coded /silly

[least-transmcytshowdown]

Joel Smallishbeans^16:

Hermitcraft, Third Life, Last Life, Double Life, Limited Life, Secret Life, Wild Life, Empires SMP Season 1, Empires SMP Season 2

Transmasc, he/they; Trans man, he/him; Genderfluid, any pronouns; Trans masc, it/he/she; Transmasc Genderfluid, he/any; Identity not specified, they/he

“He’s just a silly little terracotta man with only a vague understanding of human gender he tries to impersonate but fails at.”

“Lizzie and Joel are a t4t bi4bi couple in [the submitter’s] heart. Lizzie transfem (she/her) Joel transmasc+gender fluid (he/any).”

“Basically anywhere you see him. Just like, the constant ‘Ooh i'm so manly, the manliest, I’m so tall and strong and handsome,’ and always insisting that he’s really tall despite being super short and the way his voice will sometimes get all high and squeaky these are all very transmasc coded things. He’s one of us, okay, he’s got the vibes, trust, he’s got our humor. Every time he goes mining on Hermitcraft there is always a caption that’s like ‘straight white male mining content’ which is more of his constant need to assert how macho and manly he is and in double life he says he’s not going to get in the pool cause he’s ‘ashamed of his Minecraft body’ which is very trans behavior. He’s got that confidence he can wear a dress for mcc and still know he’s a man which is very transmasc cause other men just got handed it, but we afab men have to look at masculinity and go ‘yeah that’s me’ and then make sure everyone knows it like that’s how you know being trans isn’t a choice because men kinda suck and I still went out and actively was like um guys I’m actually a man sorry. Some days he’s cool with just throwing gender norms out the window and some days he feels the need to yell for the whole world and the next couple galaxies as well to hear that he’s DeFiNiTeLy NoT WeArInG a CoRsEt GeM. Can you tell [the submitter’s] projecting? Cause [they’re] projecting. You can pry this headcanon out of [their] cold dead hands lol.”

“He has fluctuating chest dysphoria so sometimes he doesn't bind and sometimes he does. His bad dysphoria days are rare enough that he's not gonna bother with top surgery.”

“Transmasc Joel Smallishbeans is everything to [the submitter] and [the submitter] like[s] to think that forming the bad boys is what made him plug the tv back on and turn the brightness to the max, like he went ‘Oh we’re bad boys?? Guess I’m finally a boy now!”

“Nonbinary bad boy Joel except he is not a boy.”

“First, [the submitter] think[s] she was raised as a gender that just. doesn't exist here. She was raised in Mezalea where how gender works is just. different and, because she has a beard, everyone assumed she was a man but she's NOT and in recent years has been figuring out her own identity and pronouns in a way she hasn't ever thought about before and also she and Lizzie are butch4femme, amen. Or bi4bi. Both? She’s a masculine person and she likes stuff like the bad boys because it's more of a title separate from her gender. She’s just a masculine woman, amen.”

“He's a sopping wet tanooki (cat /j) and [jizzie] are t4t bi4bi coded.”

“Joel hasn't been called girlfriend/wife/girl by his friends for NOTHING. Bro’s the definition of gender and he slays in a dress no matter what (in Minecraft and in irl).”

Oli OrionSound^16:

Empires SMP Season 2, Pirates SMP, New Life SMP, Afterlife SMP

Trans man, he/they

“That freak is transfem, trust [the submitter]. [Their] source is divine knowledge and [their] ownership of the transfemoliorionsound url.”

“HIS PRONOUNS ARE SHE/HER.”

“[The submitter has] successfully cracked at least three eggs with the power of transfem Oli TheOrionSound, if she loses [they] will CRY.”

“Look at this cubito and then tell [the submitter] he doesn't participate in every type of gender shenanigans and tomfoolery. His pronouns are hee/hee.”