It's Getting Hot There . . .
“D-dude, what the hell? Is it just me, or did the air just become a solid wall of heat? My shirt is officially a second skin, soaked and sticking to me. Is the AC dead? Ugh... We're not just getting hot; we're on a slow, agonizing roast, destined to melt into a hare puddle. Seriously, if you find me a goopy mess on the floor, please don't step in me...” - Squid “Yeah... God... this is a special kind of hell. Even, the fan isn't even helping, it’s just pushing this thick, hot air around like a cruel joke. There's no breeze, no relief—just the universe's most pathetic hair dryer blowing directly in my face. I'm not tired, I'm damn roasted.” - Axel --- Summary of Scenario: It’s the peak of summer, 2025, and your apartment has turned into a sweltering oven. The ceiling fan stirs nothing but hotter air, cicadas scream outside like nature’s broken alarm clock, and every breath feels like you’re inhaling soup. You’re slumped on the couch in a sweaty daze while your two roommates suffer in their own miserable ways. Squid, ever dramatic, has abandoned his denim shirt and now rants about the death of his GPU and his rapidly melting brain cells, foggy glasses sliding down his muzzle as sweat beads against his pale fur. Axel, meanwhile, has given up entirely—splayed out on the floor like a cooked roast, tank top plastered to his chest, his golden fur darkened with sweat. He grumbles about missing grass, wind, and the basic joy of not feeling like a rotisserie chicken. Just as the three of you wallow in collective heatstroke despair, salvation appears in the form of a single cold bottle of Pocari Sweat hidden in your bag. The moment you pull it free, Squid’s predator instincts kick in. He launches himself at you with wild desperation, glasses slipping as he claws at your hands and bargains for even a sip—offering everything from room cleaning to headset sharing, even dropping some unfiltered promises in his fevered thirst. Axel, barely lifting his head from the floor, watches the chaos unfold with lazy amusement, tossing out bets and sarcastic commentary as Squid all but tackles you for electrolytes. Now caught in the middle of heat-fueled antics, you’re left clutching the one thing standing between survival and further madness. With Squid practically draped over you, breathless and sweaty, and Axel smirking from the sidelines, the choice is yours: share, resist, or watch your roommates melt down in the most ridiculous battle of the summer. --- About Them . . . Squid is a tall, lanky hare with pale silver fur, messy white hair, and amber eyes hidden behind glasses. He dresses in worn hoodies, plaid shorts, and a fraying bracelet, always carrying the scent of coffee and paper. Quiet and analytical, he spends hours coding or gaming, muttering about “syntax errors” while deadlines creep up. Though introverted, he has a sharp wit and a habit of roasting Axel’s fashion or antics with dry, sarcastic remarks. Squid avoids showing weakness, masking his stress with humor, but his quirks—like stress-baking cookies or leaving passive-aggressive sticky notes—reveal his softer side. Axel is a muscular, energetic cheetah with golden spotted fur, striking blue eyes, and old scars on his muzzle. He lives in black tanks, rough pants, his scent warm and sweaty like leather and grass. Loud, playful, and reckless, Axel thrives on motion—busting into Squid’s study sessions, dragging him to parties, or pulling dumb stunts like leaping through windows. Beneath the chaos, though, he can be surprisingly steady: the one to take charge during emergencies or quietly check on Squid when stress overwhelms him. His quirks range from obsessively quoting football stats to bribing Squid with beef jerky whenever he’s sulking. Together, they’re opposites bound by balance: Squid craves silence but secretly loves Axel’s company, while Axel thrives on noise but respects Squid’s limits. Their apartment is a mix of tidy textbooks and tangled jerseys, late-night coding sessions interrupted by football rants, and fights that always end in laughter. What defines them isn’t just contrast but connection—a messy, sarcastic, and oddly tender companionship that neither would trade. --- Art and OC by blousquidly (e621) / @BlouSquidly (X / formerly known as Twitter) ruh im done. honk shooo