#fromsketchtomerch

[whalesfromspace]

Somewhere between the drifting stars and abandoned seaside towns, little black cat, called Noir found his kingdom: a crumbling rooftop, a lukewarm cup of coffee someone left behind, and an endless view of fools chasing imaginary fortunes.

Noir is not bitter. He’s just realistic. He knows that dreams float, but debts sink. That hope is a fine thing — until it asks for rent.

When asked what he believes in, he says: “Concrete. Fish. Naps. The rest is optional.”

Noir doesn’t chase anything anymore. Not luck. Not love. He just sits. Watches. Judges a little. And sometimes, if you’re very lucky (or very unlucky), he’ll hiss you the hard truth you needed to hear.

[whalesfromspace]

Long ago, when the world was still young, it was said that dreams floated freely across the skies and seas. But as humans grew restless and doubtful, the stars of dreams began to fall — sinking deep into the unseen oceans of the world.

To protect these lost dreams, the gods created the Dream Whale (夢想魚), a creature as old as the first breath of wind. Covered in the shimmer of forgotten wishes, it roams the vast night waters, gathering dreams that still flicker with hope.

Only the rare Infinite Dreamers (無限の夢見る者たち) — those who never give up their imagination — are granted the honor to ride upon its back, fishing for stars with lines woven from pure belief.

It’s said that if a Dreamer catches a single true star, their deepest wish will come to life — not through magic, but by reigniting the lost wonder inside their own heart.

[whalesfromspace]

Meet Miso. A cat of refined taste, delicate digestion, and absolutely zero tolerance for mediocrity.

He asked for toro. He received… this. A questionable nigiri. Rice too cold. Fish too thin. No ginger. No soul.

But Wasabi does not scream. He does not swipe. He simply stares. The kind of stare that makes chefs retire early.

“I’m not mad,” he seems to say. “Just deeply, fundamentally disappointed… and maybe slightly allergic.”

[whalesfromspace]

Known only as 大禪師 (Dà Chánshī), she is the last living master of an ancient school of forest meditation. It is said she learned the Way not through study, but by quietly listening — to the rustle of leaves, the slow drift of clouds, and the deep heartbeat of the earth itself.

Visitors from distant lands seek her guidance, but she teaches not through words. Instead, she invites them to sit, share a warm cup of tea, and discover the quiet answer already sleeping within their own hearts.

When asked the secret of life, the Great Zen Master simply smiles, closes her eyes, and holds her tea a little closer — for the answer is not something to be spoken… but something to be sipped, slow

[whalesfromspace]

In the cold, quiet stretch between moons and broken satellites, a whale floats — not because it’s lost, but because it was never looking.

No one knows how it got there. Some say it swam too far into a dream. Others whisper it once breached so hard it broke free of Earth’s pull.

Now it glides in zero gravity, a great soft shadow with no hurry and no regrets.

It doesn’t sing. It doesn’t migrate. It just drifts.

It turns slowly, blinks once every few days, and thinks a thought so simple the universe itself slows down to hear it:

無重力 (mujūryoku) = zero gravity

問題ない (mondai nai) = no problem / all good

[whalesfromspace]

In a busy, noisy world full of endless problems and unnecessary drama, there exists one creature who has mastered the ancient art of doing absolutely nothing — and doing it with style. His name? Lolo, the capybara of infinite patience, 无聊禪師 (Wúliáo Chánshī), The Grandmaster of Meh.

[whalesfromspace]

A creature of patience, a heart without rush. In a world racing toward nowhere, the capybara sits — and simply endures. Stillness is not weakness. It is wisdom with deep roots.

His name is Lolo.