Latest Posts by filazuli - Page 3

Doodle dump

Pac: I don't know if you remember, we left Cell on an island with just a bullet and a revolver at his disposal and we fled. So, theoretically, we outsmarted* Cell and gave him what he deserved, understand? So, my headcanon, understand? You know? But the drawing was really cool.

[ *passar a perna – literally to deceive, but the direct translation is like a leg sweep, which is why Chat responds with "What leg?" ]

Pac: [Reading chat] What leg? Yeah, not the right one. Wait– not the right. Exactly. The left. Is it the left? Wait, which leg did I lose? [...] No, wait– the left, because my dominant leg is the right. So I will choose the left. [Reading chat] "You chose?" I like to think I had the power to choose.

—

Pac talks about Fuga Impossível lore and implies that Cell let him decide which leg he'd lose. 🔪

[ Full transcript / translation ↓ ]

—

Pac: Guys, it's not the other way around, in my headcanon– in my headcanon– you have to know how to respect my headcanon. In my headcanon– because, I don't know if you remember, we left Cell on an island with just a bullet and a revolver at his disposal and we fled. So, theoretically, we outsmarted* Cell and gave him what he deserved, understand? So, my headcanon, understand? You know? But the drawing was really cool.

[ *passar a perna – literally to deceive, but the direct translation is like a leg sweep, which is why Chat responds with "What leg?" ]

Pac: [Reading chat] What leg? Yeah, not the right one. Wait– not the right. Exactly. The left. Is it the left? Wait, which leg did I lose? Oh sht... [Long pause] I don't remember, man. Oh, I don't know guys, I don't know. Did I decide? Oh, man. None? I'm kidding–

Pac: Well, if I have to decide? The right? I don't know. Nobody knows, right? But this drawing was really cool, it was really cool. You choose one there and I choose the right one. No, wait– the left, because my dominant leg is the right. So I will choose the left. Because like, I'm thinking like this, look what came into my head: Which leg would go away? Wow, I thought "So, if I'm going to kick a ball, I'm going to shoot it with my right leg. If I didn't have a right leg, I wouldn't be able to shoot the ball properly. So I prefer the left." That was my line of thinking, you know? I don't know. It's a bad example, right? And that's it, right? [Reading chat] "You chose?" Yeah, I like to think I had the power to choose.

fuga impossivel lore

fui ver fuga impossível e conheci o hannibal brasileiro

Psychopath with a p of princess <3

Desenho da minha versão da AU de (@r_sunblade_), com certeza vou desenhar mais sobre e contar mais sobre minha versão <3

Clássico Gay homofóbico que se apaixona 🥰

[Context: While talking about how he lost his leg, Pac accidentally says "Felps" instead of "Cell"]

Pac: Felps— no, it was Cellbit. Guys, I got confused, it was a lot of trauma in my life, they bit my leg while I was awake and conscious. At that moment, I passed out, I don't remember if it was Cellbit or Felps, both of them were there.

[ Translation via @TZC_updates ]

I really like sm do f2!mike tiny, so tiny, i love it

She rips out my bones just like I'm an animal

damn boy!!!! take a breath between ur bites

I headcannon that strandy sometimes forgets how to eat/drink (even though he physically is able to) (this happens especially when he is flustered or otherwise having emotions) and just like pours tea or water into the hole of his mask really fast and it all spills out over the floor and his clothes. Or just like shoves food at the mouth hole with abandon, like facefirst into a piece of cake or something and it just. Gets smushed.

REALLLL!!!!!!!! AUGH THIS IS DRIVING ME INSANE!!!!!! RAAGHH!!!!!!! HES SO STUPID!!!!!!

it's really weird having a first dog be blind and then getting a second who can see...like how was I supposed to be prepared for this.

this creature can perceive when I put the treats up on the high shelf. or when I hide stuff behind my back. I can't fool her!! she's always watching me and she shouldn't have this much knowledge!!!

I walk around at night and I shine my flash light directly into her eyes and I'll just be standing there staring at her weird blue orbs for like 5 seconds until I realize it's probably extremely annoying to her, because she has eyes!! I'll turn on the light in the room and she gruffs and grumbles like ?? oh right!! light wakes you up!! the fuck??

what if instead of having a fake name for internet personal-life purposes we could have a fake name for professional work-life purposes

put all the podcast guys in a room together for group therapy

this is a spider's world and we're just living in it

spider names:

and no Jon cannot actually tell them apart

DnD is wracking our brain, chat.

"I will make you say how proud you are of me!"

DROP THE FIC OR IM COMING FOR YOUR KNEECAPS

ALRIGHT OK BUT I NEED IT TO BE KNOWN THAT I HAVENT WRITTEN ANYTHING SERIOUSLY SINCE HIGHSCHOOL OK

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Something is after me. I know it is, I’ve seen it. It looks like a man, but I know that it’s not. It…. It’s face is like a mockery of something human- like- like if you asked someone who has never seen a human to draw or model a person’s face, their smile. No… I don’t think any human would be able to get it that wrong.”

“And I’m not crazy, alright? God, y’all probably get that a lot here, don’t you? You people specialize in crazy. Not that I’m anyone to judge anymore, given the shit I went through before coming out here. I didn’t even know a place like this existed outside the Usher Foundation. I just…there’s some weird, crazy shit out there I guess, and when I heard about y’all, I figured I should probably pay a visit. At least let someone know before I die.”

“I know I’m gonna die.”

“I suppose I should start from the beginning. My name is Joshua Nelson, I’m originally from the States–Memphis Tennessee. Now, if there’s one thing you should know about Memphis, it’s that nobody in their right mind should EVER move there on their own accord, ‘cause you’ll either get mugged or stalked or both. I was born and raised there, so I never really got the choice during the formative years of my life. I’ve learned to live with it, though.”

“I worked retail in a gas station before…well, everything. It was a shithole. The kind of building where, no matter how hard you scrubbed and no matter how much bleach you used, the stains and smell of smoke would never leave. Instead just…mingled with the citrus of the chemicals. It paid the bills, though, and I was never witness to a robbery, so I couldn’t complain too much. The customers were docile and if I noticed anyone shoplifting, I kept it to myself. I wasn’t getting paid enough to give a damn.”

“We had regulars that would come in on a schedule and regulars that wouldn’t. People who were just passing through the city or visiting family or friends. You get all types in that kinda place, and if you’re placid enough to any asshole who’s having a bad day, everyone gets along just fine. There were a couple of regulars who were friendly enough, though, that I remember their names. Miss Kelly was an older woman, short and heavyset–she was one of the friendlier ones. We’ve got a lot of talkers in the south and boy did she make sure I knew every exact reason for what her kids were getting up to, or what was going on in a reality show she was hooked on at the time.”

“George Michael, a thin man in his 40s, maybe, always came in whenever he needed a new pack of cigarettes, I think he was a chain-smoker, cause he was in there a lot.”

“And then…then there was Hunter. Now Hunter was a younger man, maybe college age. A little older than that? Poor bastard was hooked on something, that much anyone could tell. He was gaunt, a little twitchy, you know, telltale signs of drug abuse. I could never tell what specifically he was on, but then again, it was never my business to know. I treated him the same as every other customer, we all knew he wasn’t gonna cause any harm, he usually came in for food, chips and hotdogs and stuff and he never caused a fuss.”

“I think… I think Hunter is dead.”

“One day he came in, I think it was a Wednesday or something cause it was slow that afternoon, and he burst through the door. Well–maybe not burst, but he came in the building like he was racing to get indoors first before someone else. The guy was usually jittery and, I’ll admit, a little shifty usually, but this was full blown paranoia. It startled me at first, his intensity, and he made a b-line towards the back of the store and ducked behind one of the shelves. Maybe not duck completely like ducking for cover, but it was obvious he was hiding. It almost made me expect the police or some drug lord to come storming through the door, but nobody else came.”

“Hunter stayed pacing in the building for a good 20 or 30 minutes, periodically lifting his head to crane his neck and peer out the window or the glass of the door. I checked once or twice as well, but if someone was out there, I didn’t see them. Eventually the guy calmed down enough to buy something and when he approached the counter with his bag of Doritos he looked almost like he was going to be sick.”

“I asked him if everything was alright, but he just shook his head and left.”

“I didn’t see him again for another week or two after that. Obviously I assumed the worst. I theorized that someone was after him and when he didn’t show up when he usually did it was more than enough to confirm my suspicions. Be it cops or some random person on the street, I couldn’t decide which fate would be worse, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel for the guy at least a little bit.”

“Hunter was almost completely out of my mind when I saw him again. I was surprised. By all accounts, it didn’t look like anything had changed about him. Maybe aside from the fact that his posture was way better than it usually was when I saw him, but other than that, nothing was out of the ordinary.”

“Business went on as usual and when he came up to the till with a liter of coke, I offered him a ‘Welcome Back’ and rang him up.”

“When I turned back to him, he was smiling. For some reason it was like a pit opened in the bottom of my stomach. I couldn’t understand why, though. It looked like Hunter–patchy, unkempt stubble, greasy hair, thin face, sunken eyes. His appearance had never bothered me before, so I was struck with confusion that mixed in with the undefinable, sudden sense of dread.”

“‘Thank you,’ he said as I handed him his change. And he walked out the door. It sounded like Hunter, too.”

“Hunter returned the next day, and the next. Each time he was polite and quiet, and each time he smiled when I rang him up. I counted his teeth. They were straight and flat. When I counted mine in the mirror when I smiled, I saw 17 or 18. Hunter’s counted 24.”

“Maybe he has a dental problem that I didn’t notice until now, I told myself. Human bodies are weird. Sometimes you have more teeth than usual.”

“The fourth day he came in a row, I saw his eyes and his pupils were…swollen, is the only way I can describe them. I know what people’s eyes look like when they’re high. This was not that. It was like they almost swallowed up his irises completely, and they were dull. Dull in the sense that the fluorescents overhead did nothing to cast any reflections onto them. It made me want to writhe and squirm whenever he looked at me.”

“I called in sick the fifth day. I knew Hunter would be back in that gas station to see me. I knew it was to see me. And I knew that thing. That..whatever it was. It wasn’t Hunter.”

“I guess a part of me was always dreading that day. I had always heard stories about people being stalked from friends of friends. It was only a matter of time before it happened to me, right?”

“I saw Hunter at the grocery store the next day, posture straight and face split open into that smile with too many teeth. I didn’t have the mind to be polite. I turned completely around and walked the other way, trying to fool myself thinking that he hadn’t seen me. I kept a pocket knife on me after that encounter. I probably should have been before, but hindsight is always 20/20.”

“Each time I saw him after that, it was worse. On the street to my apartment, his eyes were too wide and his grinning mouth was slightly agape. A crude facsimile of delight as I rushed past him. I stopped going into work when I started to spot him everywhere I went. Every destination no matter how far or random, he was there, grinning at me. He knew where I lived, that I had no doubt. So I went to a friend’s one night hoping to throw him off. Maybe I could move out and lose him. Lord knows I didn’t have the money to break my lease early, but I was desperate.”

“My friend suggested I call the police, but for some reason I was convinced that wouldn’t help. Cops usually only made things worse in that town, and I had a sinking feeling going that route would only waste my time.”

“The final straw was the second night I was crashing on my friend’s couch. I was exhausted, the past few weeks spent sleepless and paranoid and I was ready to finally pass out when I heard a light, rhythmic tapping on the window behind my head.”

“It’s just the wind, I thought to myself. A tree branch or something scraping against the glass. The exhaustion was completely gone, my pounding heart and pumping adrenaline overpowering any lame excuse that I would be stupid enough to be reassured by.”

“I didn’t move from where I lay. Tap. Tap. Tap. Came through the window once again.”

“I don’t know why I laid there for so long, unmoving, convinced that if I didn’t turn around, whatever it was outside would lose interest and leave. I really, really wanted it to leave.”

“I lay still for what felt like hours, every muscle in my body wound up and tense and ready to leap into action at any given opportunity. I was praying the opportunity would never come.”

“I don’t know how long it was when the tapping ceased, but it was long before I finally managed to relax. It seemed like my strategy worked. What an idiotic thing to think. Like I was a child hiding from an imaginary monster in the dark. Like the logic of not giving a stalker any attention so it would go away was sound. No. I think it was that false hope that landed me in this situation.”

“Because when that tapping came again, I wasn’t prepared to turn around. But I did. I turned around and what I saw in the darkness through that glass was… I don’t know what it was. I know it had eyes and teeth. It was grinning, but its teeth stretched well beyond what would be the borders of its face. God, I couldn’t see its face. I knew it was Hunter, though. It had those same lightless eyes that stared back at me every time I closed my own. Dead and dark and dull and staring at me–eating at me, wide and gleeful and spilling into the shadow that I could only assume was a part of the creature, itself. Its form took up nearly the entirety of the window, blocking the outside world. It didn’t move.”

“I screamed. I screamed and closed the curtains and I hid. This woke my friend of course, and she came stumbling out of her room, looking bleary but alert. I tried to signal to her not to go to the window or do anything or to call the police. Thankfully she got the message and the cops were there within the hour.”

“They didn’t find anything. Or anyone, for that matter. I left out the…the monster bit, because I assumed it might land me somewhere I really didn’t want to go.”

“They were about as helpful as I thought they would be. Told me to call them again if I noticed any suspicious activity.”

“I booked my flight here that very night. I wasn’t going to stay in that goddamn city with whatever the HELL that thing was. I don’t want to end up like Hunter. I don’t want it to wear my skin.”

“It will, though. I know it will and it scares me more than anything in the world. And I know I can’t escape it, either.”

“It followed me here. I saw it. It was still grinning at me and it was still. Wearing. Hunter’s. Skin. The shadow that was cast over it made it so I could only see the whites of it’s eyes....its teeth.”

“I don’t want to die.”

You guys remember the Institute campaign I mentioned? The one Benito was for?

It got extended into a longer campaign now and I'm absolutely loving it.

So! Take Father Finley, the priest turned slaughterer.

(Disturbing imagery under the cut)

Psalms 44:22 Yea, for thy sake are we killed all the day long; we are counted as sheep for the slaughter.

Never doubt the power of the grabby stick.

20 minutes and a broken dinosaur grabber later and Elias just picks it up with his bare hands out of frustration

read a fresh pair of eyes here!

AU in which all Pepito wants is for Pepito’s dad to start smiling again. Pepito knows that Apa Roier is a HUGE fan of Spider-Man, aka Quesadilla City’s most popular superhero, but he’s been real sad since Spider-Man stopped hero-ing a couple months ago when his rival and WORST ENEMY Black Cat disappeared. And Pepito just wants Roier to be happy, so Pepito’s just gotta find Spider-Man and make him a hero again! (And maybe Pepito can get his autograph, because Spider-Man is Pepito’s favorite hero too!!!)

[An au in which Roier retires as a hero when the man he was working up the nerve to ask out vanished into thin air in a factory explosion after a fight gone wrong. He never even got to find out Black Cat’s name, and now he never will…]

[And, an au in which Cellbit has been stuck in the hospital for months in a coma, and all he’s been dreaming of is the masked hero he’s in love with.]

Kisses

That's my little guy! That's my horribly traumatized little archivist!

Look at him! My guy!

Moodboard of Benito Ranha for @filazuli !! This one was so fun to make. Like, way too fun. :3

N-NO, I.., I'M NOT COMP- COMPLETELY OBSESSED WITH HIM, Y-YOU ARE SPREADING LIES... ～(　TロT)σ

Compliments

fuga six

Dibujo del obsessedduo inspirado en el fanfic: The feeling of being in motion again

No es ninguna escena específica, sino el concepto

Sometimes you need to muzzle your caninbal boyfriend

you can do whichever of these you like i just wanted to send more tofu pics. look at that thang

Looking at that thang!! creature of all time!!

here's cellbit and ?