Requested By Anonymus

i was gonna say thane has a habit of taking in strays but then i remembered his presence alone makes animals run for dear life because all they feel is a predator hunting them. oddly enough, not fish though. he keeps a nice tropical fish tank which serves as a) stress relief and b) a way to vent his more controlling tendencies. talk to him about fish i guess

@metanoen

Bro things

Go forth and feel the wind again.

I wanna talk about aliens. I want to talk to Okarun! I want to talk to Ayase-san! I want to talk about ghosts!

Dandadan Episode 05 - Okarun & Momo + Mutual Pining

i need to start moving thane's lore over here for sure he's one of my most developed ocs to me tbh. greek epic coded fun times.

tongue   runs   across   teeth,   jagged   fangs   that   part   for   even   sharper   words.   the   beast,   it   walks   amongst   the   shadows   of   the   streets,   its   rot   of   death   close   behind.   peering   from   the   foliage,   peering   from   the   shadows——   it   saw   everything.   from   the   birth   of   millions   stars   to   the   deaths   of   countless   others.   (   light   /   shadow   )   it's   not   coexistence   ...   rather   codependency.   if   there's   good,   then   surely   evil   exists,   words   to   define,   to   restrict   and   simplify   reality.   neither   concept   exists,   or   rather   ...   it's   pointless   to   define   them   because   you   will   always   be   what   someone   else   decides.   whether   that's   the   universe——   a   friend——   an   enemy.   (   there   are   no   choices.   )

❛   oh   stop   it,   you.   ❜   smile   becomes   loose,   biting   onto   her   words.   ❛   if   that   were   the   case,   you   wouldn't   be   here.   ❜   not   alone,   not   with   him   of   all   people.   soulless,   heartless——   a   knack   fo   finding   broken   things.   (   were   these   ...   him?   did   he   finally   choose   for   himself?   at   last   ...   )   another   step,   a   laugh   that's   too   far   too   crude   to   be   kind   anymore.   each   step   an   advance,   each   step   closer   and   closer   to   wounded   creature.   ❛   let   me   let   you   in   on   a   secret,   darling.   that   pit   in   the   bottom   of   your   stomach   ...   that   shadow   you   see   flit   in   the   corner   of   your   eye   ...   that   weight   you   tie   to   your   life,   well,   it's   all   rubbish.   ❜   curt,   dry.

glint   of   amusement   in   his   gaze,   dulls.   pools   of   nothingness——   of   heavy   truth,   sit   before   her.   a   reflection   of   a   reflection.   far   too   warped.   far   too   twisted.   it   does   not   view   the   world   with   eyes   at   all.   it   does   not   hear   or   see.   it   simply   ...   is.   cold,   hard,   unfeeling.   floating   above   lofty   things   like   ideals   &.   reason.   (   could   they   even   be   in   the   same   world   at   all?   )   ❛   but,   to   answer   your   question   ...   hmmmmm   ...   no.   questions   are   one   of   the   few   pleasures   in   the   world   for   me.   listening   to   people   lie——   it's   rather   fun.   ❜   dim   light   returns   like   candle   finding   flame,   a   cool   heat   sits   within   martin's   gaze.   mercy?   ❛   ...   now,   how   bout   this,   i   patch   up   those   nasty   little   wounds   and   you   can   cling   to   life   as   you   always   have   or   ...   you   can   well, throw in the towel.   give   up. start the next chapter, so to speak. ❜ ( rest. )

❛ Oh, you think I'm pretending? ❜ A scoff followed, a harsh, dismissive sound that echoed years of cynicism, accompanied by a sharp glint in her eyes that betrayed something deeper. The words hung in the air, pressing against her like an invisible hand to her throat. ❛ Let me tell you a secret — there’s no act to keep up when there’s no one left to pretend for. ❜

It was a bitter truth, a loneliness that had become her constant companion and consumed her very being with every fiber of her existence. Fending for herself had become second nature, from the harsh days of her early adolescence up until now. She had endured in a world that offered no solace, no guidance, only the relentless pressure to survive. 

And yet... she could never quite escape the heavy burden that it placed upon her shoulders, nor the dreadful feeling that settled within her chest as she spoke those words, a hollow ache that whispered of something lost, something perhaps never possessed at all. Despite her outward bravado and unrelenting expression, she couldn't quiet the whispering voice in the back of her head that questioned her own statement. Pretending — wasn't that the foundation of her very existence? The only thing that kept her afloat in a world that had deemed her the villain, a despicable, wretched being ever since she drew her first breath? The act of a mere human, trying to blend in and be accepted, had been her first role, but had she ever really stopped hiding behind the facades she'd constructed?  

But even then... nothing mattered, really — except the fact that she would keep pretending. Because what was the alternative? To crumble? To break down and reveal vulnerability to a world that wouldn’t offer any sympathy? 

She forced a brittle smile, the edges sharp and unforgiving. ❛ But tell me, does it ever get tiring trying to pick apart things you’ll never understand? ❜ The deflection carried a sardonic edge — a challenge, a dare, and something dangerously close to a plea. 

thane's love language is helping him maintain his dreads. thanks.

oh i never talked about it but s//inners is such an amazing movie, man.

seldom   does   he   offer   genuine   concern   'pon   others.   it's   equal   parts   his   nature   —   equal   parts   resisting   attachment.   still,   the   other   looks   beaten   to   shit,   whether   physically   or   mentally;   he's   yet   to   prod.   there's   a   cadence   in   his   voice   expertly   honed,   a   mellifluous   and   compassionate   patchwork   of   sympathy.   ❛   that   so...   ❜ his   eyes   drag   themselves   over   their   stained   coat   and   linger   on   the   two-tone   coloring   of   their   hair.   if   he   notices   anything   out   of   place,   he   graciously   doesn't   insist   on   questioning   them.   it's   better   to   puzzle   over   things   like   this.   (   at   least   there's   fun   to   be   had   in   trying   to   solve   them.   )

❛   a   couple   bloodstains   usually   ain't   enough   to   get   people   to   make   faces   like   that.   ❜   at   least,   not   in   his   experience.   no,   no,   countless   days   of   wandering   gave   him   a   deadly   instinct   for   probing   the   truth.   sometimes,   he   can't   help   himself.   truth   can   cut   deeper   than   any   blade,   whether   the   sting   of   denial   or   bitter   acceptance.   assuming   he   had   been   unerring   in   his   questioning,   he   quietly   gauges   their   reaction.   noting   the   softness   in   the   features   and   wondering   if   that   gentleness   he   sees   could   merely   be   false.   those   marks   didn't   appear   defensive   —   not   to   him.   ❛   but,   you've   got   tired   eyes.   fishy   ones.   ❜

yeah,   that's   what   he   decides.   there's   a   deeper   melancholy   to   them   that   the   surface   permits.   all   bundled   up   in   that   coat,   something   is   twisting   and   writhing;   whatever   feelings   haise's   nursing   were   tricky   indeed.   some   of   his   tact   fails   him   as   he   stares.   for   a   moment,   he   thinks   about   himself   and   whether   he's   ever   felt   such   things.   if   the   sting   in   their   eyes   matches   the   one   that   greets   him   sometimes   in   the   mirror.   was   their   pain   similar?   or   was   he   so   desperate   to   see   himself   in   others   that   he   clings   to   the   tiniest   modicum   of   recognition? 

flashing   a   smile,   he   gingerly   picks   some   dirt   from   beneath   his   nail   —   his   troubles   quickly   forgotten.   ❛   ain't   always   gotta   be   the   tough   guy,   y'know?   older   i   get,   and   the   more   good-looking,   mind   you,   that's   what   i've   learned.   ❜   with   preening   done,   he   inspects   his   fingers,   framing   haise   with   them.   ❛   ...   lemme   see   if   i   can   get   some   of   those   stains   outta   that   coat.   you're   a   bit   of   a   mess,   my   friend.   damn   near   a   fashion   travesty.   now,   before   you   answer,   think   about   what   i   said   —   then   answer.   there   is   a   wrong   answer.   ❜

જ⁀➴        @amcssing   (  Bradley  )  finds  Haise  after  he  has  been  in  a  fight.

The sting of humilation lingered like a bitter aftertaste — the fact that he, the squad mentor, the one tasked with guiding and protecting the Quinx, had been the one roughed up like this during their latest investigation had Haise reeling. How could he possibly command respect, lead effectively, when he had so demonstrably lost control? 

It haunted him — their expressions as he had come to his senses again, each of his subordinates' eyes filled with a mixture of incredulity and unspoken judgment. He suspected harsh words lingering in the minds of even those who had never outwardly criticized him, silent doubts harbored by those who had come to trust him — and he didn’t even want to start thinking about those who questioned his authority, the ones who already bordered on outright insubordination.

This incident would undoubtedly worsen the already tense atmosphere within his barely held-together squad and further shake the fragile foundation of his team. His stomach churned at the thought of distrust and disrespect taking further root within those he so desperately tried to hold together — a sharp, unpleasant feeling, it mirrored the throbbing pain radiating from his battered body. 

And fate, it seemed, was determined to deny him even a moment's respite. The sound of approaching footsteps caused Haise to stiffen, to pull himself a little straighter, despite the protest of his aching muscles. The thought that someone was about to walk in on him while he was feeling sorry for himself — wallowing in self-pity with his coat stained in half-dried blood — only increased his burning shame, fueling its already stoking flames. His cheeks flushed with heat as he prepared himself to wave off the inevitable gaze of concern and confusion. 

❛ I’m okay. Just a rough mission. ❜ It was the kind of line he had perfected by now — light, casual, deflecting any kind of concern that could be directed at him. He hated this; the idea of causing anyone worry. Deeply rooted was his desperate desire to not be a burden to those around him, to prove his worth. 

With trembling fingers hidden in the folds of his stained coat, Haise looked up to give Bradley a smile — subtle, yet reassuring, the kind that was designed to convey a silent ‘Really, I’m okay’, despite it not quite reaching his eyes. 

concerned  roleplay  starters,  accepting  ! 

no thoughts, just... thinking about the way Ekko looks at Powder...