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#her mask is fashioned out of human skull actually
izaacs-notdeadyet · 5 months
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OHHH MY GOD THE WAY MY ASS FORGOT TO POST ABT THIS
Meet Spider-Mortis
(He/Him)
He used to be just a regular Spider-Man before his doc ock fucked up ans bombed the damn world. In the wreckage of the ruins he rose up to become a kind of Robin Hood figure, stealing from the rich in their bunkers hoarding resources to give to the survivors.
For his design I wanted to take a more apocalyptic fashion statement with the classic Spider-Man suit color and design, but also make it feel more mature, like he is going through an actual apocalypse. His color pallet consists of blues, reds, and desaturated greens for his clothes
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I gave him two different logos, one a skull with spider legs coming out from it, and the other a radioactive symbol with the spider legs aswell. I decided to put the skull ver on his suit, and use the radioactive one for clothing accents (and also on his bag, not currently drawn)
I also gave him a gas mask because it’s just.. cool (and I like making everything harder for myself)
(⚠️slight gore both written and drawn ahead⚠️)
Now for his villains,
the ones I’ve already drawn are his doc ock and also vulture.
First, Doc Ock
Doc Ock was actually what inspired me to make this, after watching Tobey Maguire’s Spider-Man I had a realization about how actually terrifying it could be if the chip thingy failed. Imagine if he ended up just being a corpse piloted by a bunch of robotic arms. That, is exactly what this doc ock is.
Because of his proximity to the blast, he pretty much died instantly, layers of flesh being the only thing left behind other then his robotic arms, who quickly gained control of his body afterwards. I’m not exactly sure how I want this character to act, whether it’ll just be a slight nuisance, or an actual villain I’m not quite sure.
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I quite like my idea for his Vulture.
(She/They)
I Imagine her being some kind of anti-villain. They want the complete abolishment of the upper class, and could careless if all the humans left died as long as the rich died along with them. They tend to leave behind most the supplies they come across unless they really need them, the only thing she takes is the lives in the area.
I had a lot of fun with her character design. One of the things I had fun figuring out is how I could keep that aspect of femininity while also keeping it realistic for the apocalyptic environment. I went through a lot of different versions, experimenting with corsets for bust support, and different kinds of skirts etc before coming to my final design (possibly not final design)
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I gave them a more lighter color pallet, using brighter greens and browns. I have a bit of an obsession with camo patterns and I thought it would fit with her character perfectly so i gave them camo pants. I also took the boot design straight from Pinterest. (Guilty as charged.)
I added beige leg warmers to match with her top, which I’m not exactly sure how I’d explain it. Kinda like a wrap top? With a strap over stop of it. I gave them this kind of leather cape hood combo, and put it overtop of the bird skull mask (based off a vulture) I gave her. Underneath that she has a white, button up shirt, with the sleeves tucked into gloves, which I modeled after bird handling gloves.
Now here comes the part I love the most. I spend a lot of time researching vultures, and I am in love with the idea that she has a flock of vultures that just follow her where she goes. The idea that they leave behind enough bodies to where the vultures know if they follow them they’ll get food is fucking badass.
Like seriously. Imagine accidentally stumbling upon her camp and you look up and there’s just a kettle (the name of a group of vultures) of vultures watching your every move looking at you like they want to pluck your eyes out.
I also have a few ideas for some other villains
Deadpool (I think it would be quite funny in a setting where everyone is heavily dressed to avoid radiation and injury he’s just in the most revealing slutty outfit known to man)
Kraven, which I could possibly pair up with Vulture for an arc
The lizard, which could quite literally just be a radiated alligator
I’ve considered adding a black cat
Maybe some spin on vemon?
Let me know if you have any ideas I fucking love imput
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springvaletales · 1 year
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((Session 40 is wrapped!))
Today has been cursed for Skaaaa’s sake. I dropped my noodles in the sink at work, someone else had two terrible lunchables when they were really hungry and had no other options, someone else got peed on by their cat early in the morning….CURSED!
We then had some difficulties with Discord’s voice chat.
“You still sound like you’re in a bathtub.”
August: “Have you ever had a bagel, Bagel?”
Bagelby: “Nope! We don’t have bagels in the Feywild. Bagels are circles, and circles are really cool! They don’t exist in the Feywild, really - if you walk in a circle in the Feywild, you end up somewhere else.”
Ena, bullshitting: “Uh…’Bagel’ means something different in the Feywild.”
“If Thiori stretched out his human arms, he could touch both walls.”
“Bagel does not understand magic, so the sky is literally the limit.”
As the party returned to exploring the dungeon, they split up two ways - Bagelby ran back to where they’d last left off with Ena, Thiori, Sir Carl Jaeger, and Lex, while August and Asahi doubled back to explore another branch of the tunnels.
Bagelby and co found a room of loose debris with a few random trinkets, and some bones….a LOT of bones, actually.
Bagelby, looking at a humanoid skull he found: “Hey Thiori, why are there so many bones here?”
Thiori: “Well, it could have been a big predator, a grave getting unceremoniously relocated, or-“
Ena, who was raised by a giant tree Fey, not thinking: “Or all these roots ate someone, lol.”
Bagelby:
Thiori:
Sir Carl Jaeger:
Lex:
Bagelby, slowly putting the skull down: “I think we should all leave in a calm and orderly fashion.”
Meanwhile, August and Asahi climbed through a broken wall an found a long, narrow hallway. When they went to explore it, August failed her reflex save, and fell into a magically darkened pit when the see-saw floor trap activated.
Asahi survived by clinging onto a root hanging from the ceiling, and then screaming into her enchanted acorn for her wife-not-wife Ena to save her.
The rest of the party came running, and Bagelby tried to rescue August from The Pit with Mage Hand, but she was too far down, and his spell couldn’t reach. His kleptomancy still disintegrated the signet ring he’d used to empower it (which he’d stolen from August in an earlier session) however.
Bagelby, sobbing: “Now I can’t steal August’s identity!”
Thiori collected all the rope from the party members, tied them all end to end, then tied them to himself, and drove the rope into a nearby tree root with piton. Then, he tossed Sir Carl Jaeger his backpack, demanded that someone take a sample of the sap oozing from the root for him, and leapt into the abyss.
Lex and Bagelby gathered at the edge of the tilted floor where Thiori had jumped, watching in awe and horror as hundreds of feet of rope uncoiled rapidly. Sir Carl Jaeger joined them to keep Bagelby back from the hole, and Ena and Asahi joined them to gather that sample of sap for Thiori.
The combined weight of all four of them (sans Asahi, who is weightless) was enough to un-stick the stuck trap floor, and drop them all into the abyss, themselves.
THREE PEOPLE NAT ONE-D YESS THIS IS GOING PERFECT!
Only a few dozen feet down, the wall came up to meet them, and their fall turned into a long, crazy slide into darkness.
After being dumped at the bottom of the slide, they found August waiting for them, and Thiori, still dangling from the end of his rope like SpongeBob after his big movie musical number.
Rising to their feet, the reunited party found themselves at the foot of a gargantuan statue overgrown with roots the size of buildings, snaking their way down from a mysterious portal between realms on the ceiling.
They also found a number of strange masked, hooded, and gloved figures tending to the roots - one of whom was behind the party, having watched them all tumble out of the feeding slide without warning.
One whistle later, and the party’s cover was blown. Initiative was rolled, and the Big Boss Encounter began!
I have never used lair actions in my boss’s before so I hope I’m doing this right.
Lair Action: Tilling the Earth. Roots in sizes ranging from twigs to redwoods writhe and rise from the ground, breaking up the terrain and making it difficult for the duration of combat.
August charged at the main root and started hacking at it with her sword. Her blade bounced.
Thiori charged at the main root and began stabbing it repeatedly with his glaive, strengthened by his empowering mutagen. He drew a little sap from the outer bark, but otherwise did no damage.
Lair Action: Choking Aroma. The roots shake off a thick, sweet-smelling dust of arcane origin. It becomes difficult to breathe, and creatures who cannot filter the air around them lose 5hp per round.
Asahi cast Burning Hands and Ena cast Eldritch Blast at the main root. Neither left a mark.
Bagelby imbued his familiar Pedro with the spell Shocking Grasp, and sent him flying up to the portal in the roof that the main root was coming from.
For the sake of their safety, neither Pedro nor Maritza need to breathe, and neither are affected by the Choking Aroma lair action.
“You take a speed candy. You now have the Zoomies.”
Things my party remembered from older sessions that give me serotonin: The quest they were given to un-curse Vaxa’lian, and that the wizard who was hired to curse him lives on the distant continent of Minos Araan. Excess mana left behind by spells/rituals/etc. makes the air smell like sweet sugar (home-brew).
Thiori, after failing to break the bark of the Root: “Physical and magical damage don’t work - try emotional!”
After a mostly narrative fight to establish how far out of their league they are, the party is bloodied, beaten, and trapped underground with their woody opponent.
Pedro reaches the portal in the roof, but cannot penetrate it. August is hacking madly at the main root, unable to bring herself to do anything else. Thiori is frantically chugging all his mutagens, desperate to find one that might help. Asahi and Lex are desperately looking for a way out of the chamber, to no avail. Lex heard a familiar voice in her head that told her “Hang tight. You’ll be okay, but this is going to be unpleasant”. Sir Carl Jaeger is trying to protect the unconscious body of Bagelby, and Ena - bloodied and afraid - put her acorn in her mouth and sent what she thought would be a final message to her father (“Dad, I’m sorry.”).
A large root reared up above them before crashing back down, and the world went dark for the party….
…and then, they woke up lying in the cool grass, once more above ground, and - miraculously - alive.
Their mysterious salvation is none other than Senn Dugaal - a fact that no-one in the party was happy to learn.
Ena, aghast: “THIS bitch again?!”
Each with a level of exhaustion, the party is in no condition to fight, but luckily for them, a fight isn’t what Senn Dugaal wants.
Sebastian and the bandits (Senn Dugaal rescued the other four missing bandits, and I don’t think the party picked up on that) were watching all this from the sidelines, too scared/stunned by the appearance of an ancient boogeyman figure to do much.
Senn Dugaal dropped a little lore for the party regarding how his free will works despite being bound to a powerful and mysterious necromancer, and what he can and can’t talk about while under that thrall.
He called Bagelby a ‘baby thief’, and said he would be following his career.
He also asked a future favor of the party in return for saving their lives. Asahi asked if he wanted them to kill his boss. He didn’t respond.
Lex has a ‘leaking mana’ problem that Senn Dugaal can see, and he told her to ‘get that fixed’.
Asahi threw (quite forcefully, too - I’m still not sure it wasn’t just a failed attack) a glass figurine of a dragon at Senn Dugaal, who caught it without breaking it, and claimed it was a gift for
Senn Dugaal: “You should return to the witch. You’ll need her assistance, if you plan on tangling with any more Void Roots.”
Asahi: “The one we punched? I MEAN the one Ena punched? I MEAN-“
Senn Dugaal, who has a centuries-long beef with Velenna for a whole host of reasons unknown to history: *bursts out laughing*
He walked off into the forest, telling the party not to die before ‘things got interesting’.
August parted ways with the party with a heartfelt apology for dragging them into an unnecessarily dangerous situation that they had no business facing, especially in the face of her confidence-turned-arrogance.
Asahi, Thiori, and Bagelby all tried to convince her to stay, and when that failed, Thiori gave her a handful of healing cookies, and Bagelby told her that they’d be there if ever she needed them.
I…don’t know how to feel about this. I know this isn’t happening because of anything I’ve done, and I know the reasons it is are beyond my control, but I still feel….weird…about watching one of my players walk away.
Ena watched August leave with a detached sort of attitude - she’s seen a lot of people come and go through her life on soul-searching journeys, so August leaving on one of her own doesn’t phase her, and she doesn’t think it’s permanent.
Lex wished August the best of luck, and Sir Carl Jaeger gave her a good, firm Handshake of Friendship in parting.
August rolled a 30 to handshake back. Sir Carl is impressed.
Asahi gave a few hundred more gold to the remaining bandits before Ena pulled her away (she’s never been so broke).
There were a few trinkets found in the dungeon as well but I forgot to write them down so let’s hope my players didn’t.
The bandits gathered up their dead friend and left, still shell-shocked and crying, and the party headed back to town. August walked off into the setting sun, and we ended there for the night.
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fiovske · 2 years
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Rogue Knight Reii of the Red Lantern Valley
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ganymedesclock · 3 years
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"Normal looking person has terrifying teeth. bonus points if they have an extending/splitting jaw or retractable teeth or something like that" this seems... oddly specific. how'd you find out you like this?
It was a long process starting at my middle school goth phase where tiny vampire fangs were neat, and then later I was like, "well, that's not very scary is it, it could be scarier" and that graduated to progressively bigger scary teeth until I realized that the average human jaw can only fit so much teeth in it, and then I saw the art of @deadwooddross and it cracked open some brave new frontiers regarding how people can look.
Really in general it seems more specific than it is, it's generally that I think horror mouth is a good concept-
(monkey brain says bared teeth bad? Social repulsion of hunger, humanity's own predatory instincts and the primal hunting behaviors that once fed us, and one need not look any further than modern diet culture to consider that man has a very precarious nature indeed with the hunger that has always defined us? something else entirely? the fine line between the alluring, desirable, or appealing mouth that might yield tender kisses or speak sweet words and the aforementioned primal nature and threat potential of mouths?)
-and then throughout my life, in both consuming and creating art, I'm trying to challenge myself to outgrow the mindset that for something to be good or likable or deserving of patience or attention in any way it has to be the least offensive, prettiest thing- so slapping a horrible unfolding bobbit worm mouth or a leering skull grimace or a great slobbery aperture on a human face is a good challenge to that regard.
Honestly, anon, I think your question is a good one! Like I said, when I first discovered Dross's art, I was really amazed at their monster designs and it got me frustrated with the level of monstrosity in my own art. I was left wondering how someone could come to such wonderfully gross, unsettling, specific concepts. It's been years since then, and I think I can confidently say it's all just a matter of practice and inspiration!
I know we can often think of creativity as something semi-divine, born from the void (or, jokingly, as some like to insinuate, affected by psychoactive substances) and nothing us mere mortals can change- but really it's a lot more of a practical skill. For me, challenging my assumptions and interrogating my thoughts does a lot of the legwork- the important other piece is that this engine of analysis is driven by new ideas being pumped in from the things I consume.
While this has nothing to do with teeth, I remember seeing- incidentally, in a gif, I've never watched the movie and don't really plan to- Moder, the bestial antagonist of a live-action horror movie called The Ritual. Moder is a beautiful monster; she has a really unique design evoking a moose, with a hidden but disconcertingly humanlike face and two dangling arms where her mouth should be. Seeing her in motion struck me all at once that I had never really seen, before then, an ungulate monster. Hoofed creatures are conceptualized with a sort of unthreatening banality; the docile cow, the sweet innocent deer, the sacred unicorn, the majestic but servile horse. Seldom do we get this sort of old-god megafauna feeling cut loose in such a creature, and yet, looking at Moder, why the fuck not? At a point in the movie itself she effortlessly overtakes one of the main characters at a run, her great powerful legs and thrashing hooves causing her to keep pace with him in a moment that seems profoundly effortless before she banks to the side and decides to end the chase.
To bring this back to "why teeth", I think that horror character design is really a case where you just gotta look to your idols, in life and in creative works! Find something that fucks you up, even and ESPECIALLY something that seems stupid, and then gently lie back somewhere comfortable and look at the ceiling, and entertain, "wouldn't it be fucked up if you met a person whose entire face was just a pleasant mask and when they actually ate something their whole head hinged upwards to reveal their real mouth, which is just a gaping, cavernous, tooth-riddled throat?"
And it doesn't necessarily have to be teeth. There's no rule of what's exceptionally scary. For me, I like teeth. Like thinking about them. There's something about teeth and savagery and decorum and speech and the complex dance between them that, at risk of sounding insufferable, is one of the endless interstitial crossroads that make humans human.
Another very dear inspiration of mine is the decorum and presentation of the skeksis from The Dark Crystal- they simultaneously scratch my itch for predatory sophonts whose intelligence doesn't completely cut their instincts and court dramas where the image of high society is used as a contrast to the brutal and often ugly, undignified nature of ambition, pettiness, greed and lust- and they don't just serve up both of those flavors but use them to enrich each other, so that we are watching these vicious hyena birds stalking around, all puffed-up in arrogance, using gilded nail-guard forks and toothpicks, while devouring a horrible vampiric gluttonous feast and snarling at each other as they pass too close like starving wolves about to tear each other to pieces.
So I guess that's the essential linchpin of why I like unfolding or distending mouths, because it also conveys that sort of quality about a character. If your mouth splits like a flower, to a horrible toothy construct useful for mauling and threshing..... it's not going to be very good for speech. Reining it in to a humanlike configuration is stifling, and suppresses the true nature of a very specialized meat grinder, but it allows you to relate to things as something other than threats and prey. A sort of literal and figurative, sympathetic and horrifying, two-faced nature. It also plays to a good old vampire classic, the "game face" where a creature who might look beguiling and beautiful reveals a nasty appetite and a dangerous side, in a very pulpy organic fashion- it's no glamour, it's just cheeks that can retreat and a jawbone that splits.
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365days365movies · 2 years
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Horror October I: The Texas Chain Saw Massare (1974) - Recap: Part One
A bit of a disclaimer: this month might be rough.
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There are a few reasons for that, but mostly because of the fact that there’s going to be a lot of gore, blood, and death in this spooky month. And I’m not planning on skimping out on any of it! So, through GIFs and through words, be prepared to expect some less than pleasant material. OK. Got that? Good! Then, let’s jump in headfirst!
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Edward Theodore Gein was born on August 27, 2016.
Oh, yeah, we’re starting BIG. Any true-crime people out there cut their teeth on Ed Gein and others of his ilk. One of the most famous killers in American history, the Wisconsin man was born to George and Augusta Gein. While his relationship to George wasn’t much of note, Ed was the textbook definition of a mama’s boy. He was frighteningly devoted to his mother, who was a controlling, sanctimonious, overly-religious sociopath. She was fiercely protective of her sons, and thought of any and all women as whores and jezebels who could take her sons away from her.
Sound familiar, movie buffs?
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We’ll get there, don’t worry.
Gein was, it could be charitably said, an absolute weirdo. He was likeable enough, but he wasn’t the most sociable person. That’ll happen when you’re raised on a meat farm with an overly-controlling Bible-thumping mother away from any outside human contact. What I’m saying is, Eddie was a little fucked up from the start. And it wouldn’t get any better from there.
Ed’s brother, Henry, realized that things were a little fucked up with them and their mom, especially after Dad died. So, he got the fuck out of there. And then, he was found dead in a fire, under somewhat mysterious circumstances. Did Ed kill his brother? We’ll never truly know, but it’s a huge point of suspicion amongst serial killer historians. With Henry and George gone, it was just Ed and his sainted mother now. But, after that, well...
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Augusta wouldn’t last very long, and she died of a stroke in 1945 after screaming at a woman that she accused of being a homewrecking whore. Not kidding, that’s ACTUALLY how Augusta Gein died. Now Ed, without his precious, perfect, definitely-not-a-sociopath mother was gone, Ed was alone. And, uh...Ed was a complicated guy, it turns out.
Ed lasted for 12 years, all the while building his secret desires. See, Ed didn’t simply miss his mother. No, no, he wanted to BE his mother. In fact, more than that, Ed Gein might have wanted to be a woman. And yes, I say MIGHT. To be specific, Ed wanted to be his mother. And yeah, again, that most certainly sounds familiar.
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But, uh, Ed went further than he should’ve. In the time since his mother died, Ed had been busy, robbing local graveyards and stealing the bodies and body parts of various women. He used their bodies to make furniture, decorations, and clothing. He made a nipple belt, a few skull cups, some skin curtains, and a face lampshade, amongst a bevy of other things. Earth-3 Ed Gein was the male Martha Stewart of his day, lemme tell ya.
In stealing the skins of these women, he also constructed a suit...a very special suit. This was Gein’s “woman suit”, and this may also sound familiar to you movie buffs out there.
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You seeing a pattern here?
And you’d think this would be enough, but Gein went a bit further than that. In 1957, Ed killed hardware store owner Bernice Worden, mutilating and decapitating the corpse for reasons unknown. He also killed tavern owner Mary Hogan, skinning her and taking her face, which he fashioned into...a mask.
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NOW you get the picture. 
Ed was arrested and sent to an insane asylum, where he died in 1984 of cancer. And, despite the heinous crimes and mutilation he performed, Gein’s story is to be pitied, more than feared. He really was a symptom of a horribly dysfunctional family, and probably would’ve turned out differently if not for that. Not to ecuse his actions, as he’s still a monster. But, of all the serial killers in American history, Gein is one of the more tragic of them all.
But once this was all discovered in 1957, the country was enraptured by the story. A British director named Alfred Hitchcock was so inspired by the story, he turned the story of a killer who wanted to become his mother into the famous horror film Psycho. Later on, Gein was combined with another killer to become the woman-suit making Bufflo Bill in Jonathan Demme’s The Silence of the Lambs. And, lastly, the twisted family and skin mask were turned into another famous slasher. He was combined with another famous killer from Texas to become Leatherface. And he, of course, debuted in the 1974 film The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. And with that...
SPOILERS AHEAD!!! And, uh...trigger warning.
Recap: Part One
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The movie gives us an opening narration, pretending that this is an accurate recounting of a true story. This is just before we see glimpses of a rotting corpse, preceded by a radio broadcast of recent grave robberies in Texas, as well as a view of an elaborately posed set of corpses in a cemetery. Which, uh...definitely sets the mood, lemme tell you.
Apparently, Texas is having a hell of a time here in the 1970s, as the news continues to recount chaos unravelling in multiple different ways. Disease, serial killers, grave robbery, suicide; you name it, you got it in 1974 Texas, apparently. And amongst this chaos, a green van parks on the side of the road, so as to allow a young man in a wheelchair to relieve himself.
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This is Franklin Hardesty (Paul A. Partain), the ��invalid referenced in the opening. Which, yeah, not a great thing to say, but it’s 1974. Franklin is startled out of his wheelchair by a truck that looks like G1 Optimus Prime, much to the worry of his sister and Transformers-hater Sally Hardesty (Marilyn Burns). They, along with some of their friends, make their way to see the gruesome sculpture in the graveyard, and to make sure that one of the statues isn’t their grandfather.
After leaving the graveyard, the group decides to pick up a hitchhiker just outside of a slaughterhouse. The hitchhiker (Edwin Neal) is...ridiculously creepy. He recounts how he would work at the slaughterhouse, making head cheese and scraping away the entrails from the inside of the skulls of cattle. It’s, uh...it’s extremely creepy, and I’m a meat-eater. It’s not helped by the fact that dude takes Edwin’s knife and starts to slice into his own palm with it. Um...drop him off. Drop him off, guys. Please drop him off.
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The creepy-ass hitchhiker (who reminds me A LOT of real-life serial killer Richard Trenton Chase) invites the group to dinner for some headcheese, while playing with a Polaroid camera like he’s never seen one before, despite the fact that he owns it. Jesus Christ, this whole movie could be avoided if you DROP. HIM. OFF. He continues to prove my point after they refuse to pay him for the photograph. He burns it up in the car, then uses his straight razor to slice up Franklin’s arm. And yeah, that’s when they kick him out of the van. A LITTLE TOO LATE, GUYS!
Shaken, the group decides to fill up the vehicle at a local gas station, where they tell the owner of their plans: to visit the Hardesty family homestead. The owner tells them two things: they have no gas, and you don’t wanna go to that old house. And, uh, yeah..LISTEN TO THE LOCAL AND RUN THE FUCK AWAY. Oh, God, am I that racist stereotype? Am I literally the black guy who yells at the screen so they run away? Well, fuck it, I’ll lean into the curve, GET THE FUCK OUT OF THERE, YOU DUMB KIDS
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But no, they just keep going, despite the OBVIOUS BAD OMENS they’ve encountered so far. You’d think the one girl who’s into astrology, Pam (Teri McMinn) would sense this bullshit, but she’s too busy reading her natal charts to realize that SHIT IS FUCKED RIGHT NOW. But OK, whatever, they head on out to the Hardesty homestead, unabated and unafraid. Like blind idiots. What, have they never seen a horror movie before?
Apparently, they have, because Jerry (Allen Danziger) notes that this place looks like “the birthplace of Bela Lugosi, AKA the original Dracula. And that’s not fair. Lugosi was born in Lugos, Romania, which looks like a lovely city. As opposed to the OBVIOUS HELL-MOUNT THAT IS THIS MANSION
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These kids decide to take a break and relax, with Pam and Kirk (William Vail) heading out to go swimming in a nearby watering hole, and probably have sex. Well, if horror movies have taught me anything, it’s that these two are gonna be the first to die, probably. Also, none of them help wheelchair-bound Franklin int the house, like proper assholes. And as he gets understandably upset about this, he also notices a windchime...made of bones.
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This is my Nope Point.
Yeah, for every movie this month, I’m gonna identify a “Nope” point. That is when I, in this situation, would say “NOPE” and get the FUCK OUT OF THERE AS FAST AS I COULD MUSTER. And just as I think that, Pam and Kirk find a seemingly empty house Pam’s weirded out, especially when Kirk finds a FUCKING HUMAN TOOTH on the porch. But Kirk, like the inevitable first death that he is, just waltzes on in, the FUCKING NUMPTY. 
So, he waltzes into the house, and 
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WHAT THE FUCK DID I TELL YOU
After a...genuinely harrowing and gorgeously shot scene, Kirk is, like...SUPER dead. And Pam, naturally, runs away to get help when Kirk doesn’t come out of the strange house. Right, Pam?
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OH GODDAMIT PAM DON’T GO IN THE FUCKING HOUSE
Well, of course, Pam goes into the Ed Gein hellspace that is this house, and finds...a chicken. Yeah, it’s a bone-filled nightmare of a house, and they also keep chickens. And yeah, just as she’s trying to get out of there..
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By the way, can we appreciate that my man is wearing business casual for this job? Like, he’s got the little tie, the button-up shirt. He takes his work seriously. And he continues to do so when he HANGS UP PAM ON A MEATHOOK, FUCK ME!!! THIS IS WHY YOU SHOULD’VE LISTENED, PAM!
So...that happened. And Pam’s probably extraordinarily fucked. But, then again, we kind of knew that already. Franklin’s still worried about the hitchhiker, because he’s not caught up on current events, and Jerry heads out to find Pam and Kirk...alone. Fantastic. And of course Jerry finds the house, only to hear noises from behind the screen door that sound like Blue from Blue’s Clues. And AGAIN, I gotta say:
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Second Nope Point of the film right there.
But, no, OF COURSE Jerry goes into the goddamn house. He sees the skins and skulls, and continues to waltz on in and trespass into this dude’s home. He finds Pam in an ice cooler, somehow STILL ALIVE, and OF FUCKING COURSE, Leatherface finds and kills him, with a SINGLE BLOW with an ax. Goddamn, dude is POWERFUL and TERRIFYING.
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And honestly, the tide is turning, and I’m almost rooting for Leatherface here. This dude is just trying to do his job, and these STUPID FUCKING KIDS keep trespassing on his goddamn property. Dude’s trying to figure out what’s going on, licking his creepy-ass teeth and trying to figure out why all of these teenagers keep intruding on his private business.
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We’ll pick up on Leatherface’s plight in Part Two!
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lady-of-the-lotus · 3 years
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Looking through a paperman's eyes, Xiao Xingchen can suddenly see again.
See Chengmei's face.
Xue Yang's face...
His mind split between multiple papermen, Xingchen fractures.
Xue Yang breaks with him.
E - Xuexiao - Read on AO3! - Head the tags! ; ) The art here is only tonally appropriate for this chapter... Chapter 2
Chapter 1 of 2
They walk for an hour and a half, cross-country. Rumor of a new threat had found its way to their corner of Yi City. Disappearing people, strange sightings, the usual, except there have been none of the normal signs of demonic activity.
Chengmei, impatient as always, had wanted to fly, but Xiao Xingchen had insisted they get some exercise.
“The weather is nice, and there’s no need to rush home,” he says. “A-Qing has gone off again.” Every few months, A-Qing’s restlessness resurfaces and she disappears for a few days, making Xiao Xingchen worry until he hears the tap-tap-tap of her stick on the stone of the courtyard.
“She’ll be fine,” Chengmei says. “She was on her own her whole life.”
“I know, but…”
“She was doing better than you were, my friend.” Chengmei laughs, touching his elbow, sending a little spark up Xingchen’s arm. “I still can’t believe you gave her your coin purse.”
“What was I supposed to do?”
“Well, if you’d asked me—”
Xiao Xingchen smiles in anticipation of whatever he’s going to say, but Chengmei breaks off abruptly with a low whistle.
“We’re here. A burial mound. Or rather, a mass grave.”
Xiao Xingchen’s sword is already out. “The resentful energy is quite strong.”
Chengmei snorts, something Xiao Xingchen has learned is his way of rolling his eyes so Xiao Xingchen can hear. Xingchen smiles to himself. He does this on purpose sometimes, winds Chengmei up, ruffles him. He delights in how expressive Chengmei’s voice is, how he wears his emotions on his sleeve, good or bad.
“‘Quite strong’?” Chengmei teases. “It almost bowled me the fu—the hell—no that doesn’t work—”
Now Xiao Xingchen does laugh. He can’t see Chengmei’s face, but hears the smile in his voice.
“Bowled me the fig over,” Chengmei finishes.
“A good save.”
“I know, right?” A creak of leather as Chengmei crouches. “There’s a stone headstone type thing here. I can’t quite make it out in this light.” Another creak as he seats himself on what seems to be a small cenotaph. "Probably from the war."
Xiao Xingchen frowns at him.
“How did you know I sat on it?” Chengmei shuffles his feet in the grass as if he’s risen, but he remains seated on the cenotaph.
“I know you too well, I suppose.”
Chengmei laughs. “You really are something else, daozhang.”
Xiao Xingchen waits for him to expand on that. He’s long since learned that Chengmei does that sometimes, throws out a non sequitur or random statement, sometimes to get a reaction, sometimes to change the subject, without really thinking it through.
Xiao Xingchen likes it, usually. Keeps things interesting. Often just by his remaining silent, as if uninterested, Chengmei will immediately follow up with something even wilder.
Tonight, however, his companion is silent, as if lost in thought.
“Get up, Chengmei, please. Let’s at least try not to anger malevolent spirits this time.”
A creak as Chengmei rises. “Still mad about what happened last week, I see.”
“That ghost almost killed you, all because you had to make fun of her fingernails, of all things!”
“You should have seen them. Just because you’re dead doesn’t mean you can’t be well-groomed.” 
“Chengmei…” He sighs, but he can’t contain a smile. “Describe what’s around us. What are we looking at? …You looking at,” he corrects himself before Chengmei can.
“Bones, all over the place. Scattered over the burial mound. Rather homey.”
“Human bones?”
“Human and animal, by the look of things. This reminds me of the time at this little inn in Bianzhuang, where the soup had the most suspicious-looking pieces of—”
A bellowing sound cuts him off. “On your left!” he hisses, but Shuanghua is already up.
A crashing of underbrush, a foul stench of rotting meat, a rattle of displaced bones. The earth shakes beneath the creature’s hooves, he hears the rush of air around a supernaturally huge monster, but there’s not a hint of demonic energy, and for the first time since he lost his eyes, Xiao Xingchen is afraid. 
Chengmei is reckless—
He lashes out, aiming at the sound. He hits something solid, and the beast roars, enraged. A cry from Chengmei and Xingchen is flung out of the way, tumbling to the rocky ground, out of the path of the charging beast.
The all-too-familiar sound of something piercing flesh. The scent of blood.
Xiao Xingchen slashes at the smell, aiming far enough away from the sound to avoid striking Chengmei. Shuanghua strikes flesh, hits bone, and is almost jerked out of his hands by the bucking creature. It turns and charges at him, dragging Chengmei along with it, by the sound of his tangled curses—
He ducks out of the way at the last moment. A crash as it thunders through the underbrush, turns again—
Chengmei’s voice, raised, half-choked: “Fuck you, stay away from him—” A stabbing sound, an angry cry, and something strikes him hard in the midriff, sending him slamming into a rock.
Blood again
His blood—
A bellow of pain. Distant, echoing. Chengmei’s shout, the whistle of a blade through the air.
A stabbing sound.
More blood, blooming thickly on the warm night air.
Xiao Xingchen passes out.
* * * *
 At first, the only way he knows he’s alive is the blinding pain in his skull.
Blinding pain. Ha. That’s funny. Something Chengmei would have teased him for saying—
Memory rushes back to him. Patting around for his sword, he tries to get up but falls out of bed.
He’s safe at home in the Coffin House, on the floor beside Chengmei’s bed. He recognizes the creak of floorboard, the scent of the drying herbs strung from the rafters, the melancholy whistle of wind through the gaps in the walls.
“Daozhang!” A hand at his elbow, guiding him back into bed. “You’re awake!”
“What happened?”
“You saved my life. The usual.”
“What was it?”
“Hell if I know. Some kind of boar monster. Take more than some pig to kill me, though.”
“What time is it?”
“Still night.”
Xiao Xingchen struggles to marshal his thoughts. “You almost died.”
He can almost feel Chengmei’s shrug. “Not the first time, and it won’t be the last time. Well, the ‘almost’ part might be the last time; I might actually bite it next time.”
Xiao Xingchen doesn’t bother trying to parse that one out. “Are you hurt?”
“Nothing serious.”
Xiao Xingchen frowns. “Come here.”
“Come…”
“I can’t get up. Come here.”
Hesitating, Chengmei crawls into bed beside him.
“Take off your clothes.”
Normally this would elicit an off-color joke that would have Xiao Xingchen frowning at him and blushing, but now Chengmei hesitates again.
“I…well…”
“You are hurt!” Xiao Xingchen pats him down, forgetting his headache in the sudden flurry of panic. He should have reacted faster last night, should have killed the beast with his first blow, should have protected Chengmei—
Bandages beneath his fingertips, bare skin, a slight stickiness.
“The tusks!”
“Ruined a good robe, having to cut it off,” Chengmei says, back to his usual casual, flippant self. “Not sure even you can sew it back up. The robes, I mean, not my side.”
Xiao Xingchen’s heart is beating so fast he feels dizzy. “You almost died, Chengmei—”
“So did you.”
Xiao Xingchen pinches his temples. “You shouldn’t have shoved me out of the way. The boar—the boar gored you—”
“Just a flesh wound.”
“We—we should go back to its lair when we’re better, bury the bones—”
Chengmei snickers. “ ‘Lair’?”
“As soon as you’re stronger, we’ll go back.”
“I’m fine now.”
“How many stitches did you need?” An inane question, but something simple he can use to ground himself. It’s starting to sink in now, his mind fully clearing: his blindness in the face of the beast, the boar’s agonized bellow, the fear in Chengmei’s voice—
He had almost lost him tonight. All because Xingchen had insisted on going night-hunting, continuing to push his own egotistical agenda on Chengmei despite the fact that he couldn’t see, selfishly endangering everyone around him. What had he expected to happen?
“Didn’t exactly stitch myself up,” Chengmei says. Lost in his own thoughts, Xingchen had almost forgotten his own question. “I sealed up my meridians, so it’s just pain, and I can handle pain.”
Xiao Xingchen reaches out again, touching Chengmei’s arm, and Chengmei inhales sharply.
“Your arm!”
He imagines Chengmei wrinkling his nose. “Well, the boar did a poor job of killing me, but an excellent job of shattering my arm. You know how it is.”
“I certainly don’t know how it is!”
“Left arm,” says Chengmei, as if that makes it better.
Xiao Xingchen is not a hugger, but he has a sudden overwhelming urge to fold Chengmei in his arms, hold him till Chengmei understands that this is not a normal way to react to grievous bodily injury.
“Not the first time it’s happened, and not the last,” Chengmei says, and Xiao Xingchen reaches out to take his good hand.
“I’m going to set your arm and stitch you up,” he says, “and then you are going to eat and go to sleep.”
“Fine, have it your way,” says Chengmei, teasing, but Xiao Xingchen does not smile.
He does not smile as he fashions a splint for Chengmei’s arm, or mops the blood from Chengmei’s torso, stitches the deep gashes in Chengmei’s side, or as he fastens the bandages around Chengmei’s middle.
“—nasty-looking bugger; I think it was some kind of boar crossed with a wolf, twisted and bloated by some kind of magic—it was powerful enough to mask its energy; that’s probably why Shuanghua didn’t sense it—”
Xiao Xingchen barely hears him. His heart is beating fast, and he’s so distracted by the fact that Chengmei almost died trying to save his life that he reaches up to adjust his blindfold and leaves a smear of wetness across his cheek.
The last of his clean blindfolds.
Another inane thought.
He’ll have to wash it out in the morning—
“All done? It was nothing, really.” Chengmei’s hand is on his arm. He’s very close to Xiao Xingchen as they sit on the edge of the bed, so close Xiao Xingchen can feel the brush of his shoulder against his. He radiates warmth, and Xiao Xingchen, perpetually cold, is seized again by a fierce desire to wrap him in his arms, curl into his heat, whisper to him that of course it matters if his arm is broken—
“You need to be more careful,” is all that comes out.
“I give you my solemn word that next time we go night-hunting, I won’t let you get knocked out again.”
Xiao Xingchen isn’t sure if he’s baiting him on purpose or if he genuinely means it. “I mean you need to take care of yourself.”
“Bathe more often. Got it.”
“Can’t you be serious for once?” Xiao Xingchen's voice is sharper than he intends, but it’s too late to take that back now. “If you were to be killed, I—”
“—would have one less mouth to feed.”
Xiao Xingchen grips Chengmei’s good wrist. “Chengmei—”
Chengmei laughs, bending his head slightly, his silky hair sliding over the gap in Xiao Xingchen’s open inner robe, tickling his chest.
“Chengmei, please be serious for once. If you were to be—”
“You look so pretty with blood on your face,” Chengmei interrupts, and that does something to Xingchen, sends a quivery rush of heat through his body. Chengmei slides to the floor, kneeling before him, trembling good hand resting lightly on his knee.
“I—”
Cheingmei's hand moves up his leg, finds Xingchen's hand gripping the blankets on the edge of the bed, strokes it gently, fingertip sliding over the sensitive skin between his fingers, over his palm.
Xiao Xingchen swallows hard. He’s trembling too now, heart pounding, the warmth flowing through his limbs gathering to pulse gently in one confusing, embarrassing place.
“Ever done this before?” Chengmei asks, almost murmurs. His voice is a mere shadow of its usual blunt, teasing self.
Xingchen twists at the sheets with his free hand, trying to keep his voice steady. He must be mistaken. Concussed, perhaps. Hallucinating. The pulse between his legs has become a throb, and that’s not helping his perception of things, either. “No, it’s not something I…get…get up, Chengmei, we were having a serious conversation. If you were to be seriously hurt, I don’t know what I’d—”
Again Chengmei cuts him off before he can finish. “You almost died tonight, daozhang. Let me take care of you.”
“That’s not what—” He gasps slightly as Chengmei’s hand moves back to his leg, creeps over his inner thigh, just grazing the half-hard flesh he wishes he could somehow hide.
Heat rises in his cheeks. He wants to pull away, cover it before Chengmei notices, but there’s a brush of fabric, a whisper of warmth breath, and then his half-hard—his half-hard cock is plunged in wet heat.
“I’m—I’m not—”
The wet heat disappears. “Is that a no?”
“It’s—” And suddenly all he wants is a return of the wet heat. Proof that Chengmei is still alive, still warm. “I’ll tell you when to stop,” he says. Trying to compensate for his inexperience, it comes out more commandingly than intended, but Chengmei gives a little whine and eases Xiao Xingchen’s knees farther apart, his bad arm wrapped around one leg, good hand wandering, slipping underneath him, brushing the soft, sensitive spot he’s never thought of touching before, fondling his—
“Not there,” he wants to say, but all that comes out is a little whimper that sets a flush of shame rising in his already-hot cheeks. Reflexively he digs his fingers in Chengmei’s hair, tugging it slightly, and Chengmei gives a little moan that sends vibrations over his painfully hard cock.
Chengmei’s head is moving now, up and down, tongue gliding along the sides of his cock, sucking hard on the sensitive nerve bundle beneath the tip, taking him deep into his throat. Xiao Xingchen forgets to breathe as he digs his finger deeper in his hair, tugging it again, and Chengmei full-on gasps, throat clenching around Xiao Xingchen in rhythmic convulsions. 
Xiao Xingchen comes, spilling deep into Chengmei’s throat. Chengmei swallows, an embarrassingly filthy wet choking sound, and Xiao Xingchen pulls his head off of his cock.
“I’m so sorry—” he starts, but then he’s on his back on the bed, and Chengmei is kissing a string of bruises into his throat, branding Xiao Xingchen.
“Good thing A-Qing isn’t home,” Chengmei whispers, and Xiao Xingchen laughs, shame gone.
“Let me try it,” he whispers. He feels like his bones have been ripped out, limbs calm and relaxed, but his heart is still fluttering.
The kisses stop. “Try what?”
“Lie down.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to.”
“You want to?”
Xiao Xingchen’s heart thuds against his bruised ribcage. His hands are shaking slightly, and he hopes Chengmei doesn’t notice. “Yes.”
“I…”
“Let me try.”
And then Chengmei is on his back, and Xiao Xingchen is trailing his lips down his bruised chest, down his naval, working himself up to do the thing he’s afraid of wanting as much as he does. 
A tinge of shame returns. To want to do something like this—
But Chengmei is warm, Chengmei is alive, Chengmei is his.
He takes Chengmei’s cock in his hand, squeezing it gently, examining it with his fingers, rubbing his fingers along the hot, firm sides, smearing it with the little pearls of moisture leaking from the tip. He’s never been so close to another man’s cock before. A new pulse rises between his legs, prickles over his legs, clouds his thoughts with renewed need—
And then Chengmei’s cock is in Xiao Xingchen’s mouth, a living thing, silk-smooth and pulsing with life.
It fills more of his mouth than he’d expected. Thicker, hotter. Heavy on his tongue, pressing up against the back of his throat, making his eyes tear up and jaws ache. 
“You don’t have to—” Chengmei whispers, fingers of his good hand tracing the top of Xiao Xingchen’s blindfold, thumb stroking the bridge of his nose, and Xiao Xingchen makes a little humming sound to let him know that it’s all right, that he wants to do this—
Chengmei pulls him off his cock moments before he comes, ejaculating into his own hand.
A flash of disappointment, as if he’d wanted to take Chengmei deeper into him, swallow him down, ingest him, absorb him.
Bind him to him.
He bends down to lap at the wetness slicking Chengmei’s cock, cleaning it with his tongue. Chengmei gives a little whimper but doesn’t push him away. Xiao Xingchen licks at the cum, thoroughly cleaning him before turning to Chengmei’s hand.
Chengmei, who has been lying very still, breath coming in soft little starts, suddenly comes to life. “Don’t—”
“It’s fine.”
“But—”
“Shhh. I want to.”
Carefully, Xiao Xingchen runs his tongue over Chengmei’s palm. It tastes of blood and the salty tang of his cum. He cleans the palm, between the fingers, taking two fingers into his mouth when he’s done. He likes the feel of having Chengmei inside him again, even just his fingers. Warm, alive —
Chengmei raises his legs slightly, framing Xiao Xingchen between his thighs. He tilts his knee, sliding his foot under Xiao Xingchen’s groin. He moves his finger inside Xingchen’s mouth, sliding over Xiao Xingchen’s tongue, soft and slow. Xiao Xingchen sucks harder, rolling his hips into Chengmei’s ankle, one hand on his knee, the other on his hip.
He doesn’t quite come, not so soon after his last climax, but the friction feels good against his groin, Chengmei’s legs solid against his sides, the pain of his bruises reminding him of how fortunate he is to have Chengmei here, Chengmei beneath him.
He releases Chengmei’s finger and inches up to lie beside him. Chengmei rolls into him, nuzzling his throat with his nose.
“If your body is shattered in six places, we can’t do that again,” Xiao Xingchen murmurs into his hair. Chengmei’s heart, pounding against his chest, beats faster, but Chengmei’s tone is his usual flippant one as he asks, “Again?”
“If you promise to take better care of yourself. No more stunts.”
“I promise. Word of honor.”
“That’s what you said when you swore you’d stop teasing A-Qing.”
Chengmei laughs, the vibrations soothing Xiao Xingchen’s aching ribs. “Yeah, but I actually mean it this time.”
Shaking his head, but smiling to himself, Xiao Xingchen pulls him closer.
* * * *
Chengmei is up before him that afternoon. He’s prepared a meal of eggplant and rice he just saves from scorching, something he only manages about half the time. Xiao Xingchen isn’t sure what there is in the Coffin House to get diverted by, but Chengmei is easily distracted.
“And then I have a surprise for you,” he tells Xiao Xingchen. He rocks back and forth on his chair the whole meal—he’s never been good at sitting still—and jumps up to clear the dishes when Xiao Xingchen has finished eating.
Xiao Xingchen sits and lets him despite Chengmei’s broken arm, afraid of mentioning the injury and bringing up what had happened the night before. Everything is all so—so normal, and he’s afraid that if he so much as asks Chengmei how he’s feeling, the spell will break, or worse yet, last night will have been revealed to have been a dream.
“I brought you this,” Chengmei says when he’s finished, setting something down on the table. He takes Xiao Xingchen’s hand and lays it on the pouch set down on the table, then pulls his hand away quickly, as if the touch of Xingchen’s skin is something forbidden.
An awkward silence. The warmth of Chengmei’s touch lingers on Xiao Xingchen’s hand—
Xiao Xingchen reaches up, lays the hand on Chengmei’s elbow, and the awkwardness is dispelled as if it had never been there. Chengmei leans over his shoulder, reaching around him. His cheek grazes Xingchen’s, as warm as his hand had been.
“I removed the beast’s core last night,” he says. “It was a spirit beast, the first I’ve seen in years. The core is strong. You can—you know, take it, use it to make spiritual tools or whatever…” He pulls away, and Xiao Xingchen quickly turns to glance sightlessly up at him over his shoulder.
"A real core?"
"As real as they come."
It’s an impressive gift, the core. The spirit beast’s magical essence, it can be used in elixirs and spiritual tools. Xingchen has never encountered a beast with a core potent enough to do more than make healing draughts and powders, but he can sense the thrum of power clean through the containing pouch.
Instinctively he knows that this is more than a mere gift. That for someone like Chengmei—a survivor, a forager, a scrounger, a child of the streets—to give up such an advantage, something that he could use—
He rises, pouch in hand, and lays the other on Chengmei’s shoulder.   
“Thank you, A-Mei,” he says.
He has nothing to give Chengmei in return except for that—“A-Mei”—but it seems to be enough.
Silence. And then, “Well, I’d best be letting you play with your new toy,” says Chengmei. “Be careful with it. It’s got more malevolent energy than I’ve seen anywhere for a while. You wouldn’t want a corrupted spiritual tool killing you in your sleep, would you?”
“Could that actually happen?”
“I wouldn’t let it happen,” says Chengmei, a bit too emphatically, and he slips out of the house as if he’s said too much.
Xiao Xingchen sits back down. He wants to rush out after Chengmei, plead with him to be careful, to not exert himself with his wounded side and broken arm, but instead he smiles fondly after him, hoping he’s looking over his shoulder, and turns to the pouch.
After a moment he rises, rummages through Chengmei’s small store of things. Normally he would never look through his things—(“Look.” Ha. What would Chengmei have to say to that?) but this is going to be a gift for Chengmei, as he’s not so presumptuous to think a pet name is much of a gift.
But this will help him keep Chengmei safe, and he would do anything to keep Chengmei safe.
Carefully, he cuts a paperman out of Chengmei’s talisman paper and lays it flat on his hand.
He’d only done this once before, under Shifu’s supervision, and it had drained his spiritual powers for a week afterward.
He’s stronger now than he was then, but he still knows the dangers of being trapped outside his body, of fracturing his mind between two loci, of the damage to his psyche if the paperman is harmed while he’s still in it.
He hasn’t dared risk anything like this since losing his eyes. He’s relied too heavily on his spiritual energy to find his way around and defend himself to risk losing it for a week. Had no one to protect his body while he was in the paperman, keep him from the thousand dangers of the road.
But he has a home now, and he can rely on Chengmei to look after him if he drains his powers for a few days. And he doesn’t think he will drain them—the beauty of the core is that it will provide an alternate source of power for the consciousness transfer.
Or rather, consciousness splitting.
If all goes well, he can split his consciousness between his body and the paperman on night-hunts, seeing through the paperman’s eyes, being able to see threats, monsters, demons, beasts, defend himself and Chengmei, so that last night’s events will never be repeated.
And—he can’t help but blush at the thought—he’ll finally get to see what Chengmei looks like. It’s not as if it matters to him. Chengmei is Chengmei. He’s his, no matter what. He already knows he’s good looking, going by overheard scraps of conversation, but that had meant nothing to him as a blind man, and he knows it will mean nothing even after he sees his face.
But to be able to gaze upon his face as he lies next to him in bed, look across the table at him at dinner, see the light catching in his eye as he laughs, finally see the smile that sounds so very infectious—
It’s worth the risk involved in splitting his consciousness between his body and the paperman.
And the risk in using the malevolent core. Chengmei was right—there’s a strong dark energy in the deceptively bright and golden core.
But he can handle it. Use the light, leave the darkness in the pouch.
He wonders how long he has till Chengmei returns. He checks the shelf—so he took a basket with him, that must mean he was going to the market. Not something he should be doing in his state, but at least it gives Xiao Xingchen a bit more time before he’s expected back.
He sits cross-legged on the mediation mat beside his old coffin—they really ought to move that out, make more room in the house—what will they tell A-Qing?—he’ll leave that up to Chengmei—he doesn’t think she’ll care much, but they’ll have to swear to secrecy; he can’t imagine the neighbors will like having two cut-sleeves in their town—
He takes a deep breath, trying to order his thoughts, but for once they refuse to be calmed.
Is he a cut-sleeve? Is that what this is? Outside friendship, he'd never had so much as a flicker of interest in anyone before, man or woman, but he’d taken an innate interest in women for granted. He should go back and examine the last ten years of his life, recontextualize the last fifteen years of his life, see if there were signs, revisit his time with Song Lan—
Another deep breath. None of this matters now. What matters is that Chengmei will be home soon, and Xiao Xingchen wants to surprise him. And how now Xingchen willl be able to examine last night’s stitches, make sure the splint is in correctly place, ensure that Chengmei heals properly.
Eat dinner on the porch, watching the sunset together.
See the moon.
Lie on his back, looking up at the stars....
Best not think about that. Best not get his hopes up in case he fails—
He does not fail.
It’s like a red-hot razor is slicing slivers from his brain, carving it in half. He’s about to cry out when the agonizing pain is gone and only the heat remains.
His own face looks down at him, its wide mouth hanging open slightly, eyebrows raised above the blood-streaked blindfold.
He drops the paperman in shock, and the room dips and whirls around him. Dizzied by the sense of motion despite being still, he immediately bends down to snatch at the fluttering paperman, stop its fall. It eludes him as, nausesous, he watches his giant hand snatch at his paperman face like an enormous white hawk grasping at its prey—
He slams his head into the table and falls off his chair.
Sitting on the floor with the paperman tucked safely in his robe, queasy with motion sickness, he laughs to himself at his own clumsiness.
He can see.
He can see.
He can see.
Xingchen is about to rise, look around, examine every nook and cranny of his suddenly-new home, when he hears off-key whistling from outside.
His pulse quickens. Chengmei is home, sooner than expected—
Chengmei steps over the threshold.
“I’m back, daozhang!” he calls. “Where are you hiding? I bought you some fresh apples; I thought we could cook them in honey or something, maybe add some sweet wine—”
Xiao Xingchen gazes at him in mute horror through the paperman’s eyes.
It’s him.
That’s Chengmei’s voice. His familiar cheerful, irreverent voice.
But the face—
Xiao Xingchen leaps to his feet, stumbling backwards over the chair and falling in a tangle of limbs to the floor.
Chengmei—not Chengmei—the imposter—is beside him in a moment, apples rolling across the floor and smashed egg oozing from the dropped basket.
“Daozhang!” He lifts him to his feet with his customary combination of gentleness and roughness. “I knew I shouldn’t leave you alone with your head injury!”
Xiao Xingchen’s knees give way. “I’m—I’m—you—”
Chengmei—the imposter—Xue Yang’s—eyes are wide. “What is it?”
“I—you—”
“Lean on me, daozhang. I’ll help you to bed.” Looping Xiao Xingchen’s arm over his shoulder, Xue Yang half-carries him to bed. The paperman is nestled inside Xingchen’s robe, vibrating against his skin. “You just lie there, and I’ll peel you some apples. Perk you up a little. Maybe don’t go to sleep for a bit, I once half-cracked my skull, and I passed out in a ditch, and when I woke up I—”
Xiao Xingchen doesn’t hear the rest of his story. Weak with horror, he stares at Xue Yang as he slices apples at the table, holding the fruit steady with the elbow of his bad arm. 
Bad arm. The arm with the hand that—that—
He hadn’t felt the glove the night before. Xue Yang must have taken it off.
Taken it off when they had—
He rolls over on his side and vomits into the water jug.
 * * *
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Trinkets, 40: Interesting baubles, semi magical objects and items touched by mystery.
A brown wooden mask sports green stripes that appear to be the color of the wood instead of being painted on. A single studded iron plate runs down the nose of the mask, stamped with a decorative "L" on the forehead.
A glass flask messily labelled “Alchemist’s Fire”. It actually contains a highly-potent cinnamon whisky.
A small bag containing a large brass coin stamped with the insignia of the archdemon of Random Evil Domain, along with a red cultist mask. There is also a map of the nearby area that indicates a meeting location somewhere in the distant woods. A perceptive PC will notice that the map reveals a passphrase “Bloodmoon” hidden within the drawing.
A scrap of parchment that reads; "Leave the jewel in a sewer grate by the church, or the next time you look into her eyes they won't be in her head."
A tool designed to crack nuts. It disintegrates shells, leaving the nuts untouched. Bloody marks between the teeth and weird stains on the handle leave disturbing thoughts as to what it has been used for recently.
A military banner bearing a black on yellow pattern with a crimson border, the center dominated by a grinning human skull spit upon a lance. Knowledgeable PC’s will recognize the sigil as that of the Mad Lancer’s an infamous cavalry unit that was a force of nature as much as a military company.
A tattered remnant of a sermon written on vellum. A certain passage reads “With the certainty of stone, we shall persevere. Each crack, each mark is not a blemish, but a testament—a history of defiance writ upon our flesh?”
A tiny porcelain doll with unnervingly human eyes.
A slender hand harp, graceful of design, small and light enough to be played in one's lap. It is carved of teak wood engraved with designs of waves and fog, with silver wire for strings.
A set of four horseshoes that seem to be magnetically attracted to hooves, requiring no additional fastening.
—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.
—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.
A brown wooden mask sports green stripes that appear to be the color of the wood instead of being painted on. A single studded iron plate runs down the nose of the mask, stamped with a decorative "L" on the forehead.
A glass flask messily labelled “Alchemist’s Fire”. It actually contains a highly-potent cinnamon whisky.
A small bag containing a large brass coin stamped with the insignia of the archdemon of Random Evil Domain, along with a red cultist mask. There is also a map of the nearby area that indicates a meeting location somewhere in the distant woods. A perceptive PC will notice that the map reveals a passphrase “Bloodmoon” hidden within the drawing.
A scrap of parchment that reads; "Leave the jewel in a sewer grate by the church, or the next time you look into her eyes they won't be in her head."
A tool designed to crack nuts. It disintegrates shells, leaving the nuts untouched. Bloody marks between the teeth and weird stains on the handle leave disturbing thoughts as to what it has been used for recently.
A military banner bearing a black on yellow pattern with a crimson border, the center dominated by a grinning human skull spit upon a lance. Knowledgeable PC’s will recognize the sigil as that of the Mad Lancer’s an infamous cavalry unit that was a force of nature as much as a military company.
A tattered remnant of a sermon written on vellum. A certain passage reads “With the certainty of stone, we shall persevere. Each crack, each mark is not a blemish, but a testament—a history of defiance writ upon our flesh?”
A tiny porcelain doll with unnervingly human eyes.
A slender hand harp, graceful of design, small and light enough to be played in one's lap. It is carved of teak wood engraved with designs of waves and fog, with silver wire for strings.
A set of four horseshoes that seem to be magnetically attracted to hooves, requiring no additional fastening.
A linen handkerchief embroidered with a pentagram design, surrounded by arcane symbols.
A banner in black with the image of a crow sewn into it with white silk, surrounded by arcane runes stitched in black thread. Three white silk ribbons flutter from it.
A horrific black mask carved in the likeness of a demon’s face. Massive curved horns sweep up and back out of the forehead and behind the ears, while the fangs seem to glisten as if ready to bite at any moment. When worn, the mask’s eye sockets become covered with a glassy shield that glows red. When the bearer speaks, his voice is broadcast as a guttural growl.
A small dirty wooden figurine, that of a crudely-shaped blackbird. Its eyes are glass gems, pupiless; gazing into them feels like falling into an ocean’s black depths. In its tail is a hole, through which one may string a lanyard or band. When you hold it to your ear, you can hear the faint beating of a heart that is not your own.
A four foot long rod capped at each end by a six-inch-wide band of gold and steel. The rod has a three-foot long section of clear crystal in the middle, filled with a swirling white fog.
A silver monstrance, set with gold detail, intricate in its design and covered with tiny curlicues that resemble angelic beings.
An ornately carved pipe, its bowl fashioned into the head of a satyr; whose expression is one of malicious pleasure. If the pipe is used for smoking tobacco without cleaning it out first, the bearer will be plunged into a vivid, momentary dream wherein he is being pursued across a moonlit landscape by baying hounds.
A large, sumptuous shawl or scarf of deep red and heavy silk. It is finished along all of its edges with red and golden silk tassels, and is embroidered with outlines of stylized flames in golden thread.
A woolen scarf that is knitted with the words of an ancient elven supplication to the God of Random Domain.
An ink black statuette of a beautiful woman, clothed in gossamer-like veils, holds a large bronze bowl.
A rectangular wooden box labelled “Rawshins” containing dozens of red wax spheres. The balls have some give to them and the wax can be peeled away to reveal the pickled eye of a horse. The eyeballs while horrendously unpalatable is remarkable nutritious due to the herbal mixture used to preserve them and the box contains 2d4+1 days’ worth of trail rations.
A wooden talisman carved into a screaming human face that when stared at it for more than a few seconds the observer can almost hear the sound of screaming from far off.
A silk bag with drawstring that open easily, revealing a glint of white. Inside is an elegant bone reliquary, smooth and pleasing to the touch. Polished, silvered fingerbones interlace to form a simple gate, operated by twisting a knob at the top formed from a single smooth vertebra surrounding a porcelain mechanism. Inside the small cavity is a cage formed out of rib that could have held an ancient curiosity of some sort, but now lies empty. The faintest touch of necromancy suffuses the curio, but surely any power it once held has long faded...  
An incredibly detailed drawing of an alien creature.
A barnacle-encrusted piece of ancient stonework. Its touch fills the bearer’s ears with a great pressure that pulses like a dreadful giant’s heart.
A small wooden box with some silver markings on its surface. Something can be heard shifting inside, however it has neither a lock nor hinges. Cutting it open by force reveals it to be solid wood.
A Randomly Colored handkerchief with a knot in it, the owner probably had something important they didn’t want to forget.
A black shiny disk with dozens of embossed rings.
A tubular instrument that gradually broadens towards the lower end. It is made out of wood, with a double reed at one end and a metal or wooden flared bell at the other end. Known as a shehnai, its sound is thought to create and maintain a sense of auspiciousness and sanctity and, as a result, is sometimes used during marriages, processions and in temples although it is also played in concerts.
A pair of clay tankards decorated with waves of blue coral.
A well-worn brass locket with a small drawing of a dwarven woman inside, she has a fantastic beard.
A well-worn ivory drinking horn etched with indigo leaf patterns and silver cap attached by slim yet robust chain.
A small obsidian horse headed idol with peridot eyes.
A large poster that reads; “Diplomat wanted. Must fluently speak the oceanic dialect of High Draconic. Come dressed in waterproof clothes to the beach by moonrise on the seventh full moon of the year.”
A piece of paper that refuses to become uncrumpled until a spell similar to Dispel Magic or Remove Curse is cast on it. Inside is the true name of a weak outsider such as an angel or demon.
A waxed scroll on which is written a complex alchemical formula. The recipe is not titled and seems to be for some sort of explosive but an knowledgeable PC can determine that it’s actually instructions for making soap.
A small silver tuning fork. When used, the ringing sound it creates can only be heard by those who have split blood in the last 24 hours.
A beautiful piece of quartz carved in a strange but unclear style. It is perfectly still until a certain tone is played near it whereupon it then begins to vibrate and move, gyrating sinuously. The carving causes the moving rock to resemble a lithe dancer.
A petrified basilisk’s egg carved into an elaborate diorama of a strange but beautiful landscape.
A disk of clay with extremely fine etchings of semi-concentric lines that seem to spiral outwards from the center in tight, semi random wiggly spirals. It has been broken into three equal shards.
A handful of jasper puzzle pieces speckled with flecks of semiprecious stones (Citrine, amethyst, garnet, etc.) that can be assembled into the likeness of a bird of prey.
An astrological chart with alien characters drawn in silver ink.
A blood red fiddle that seems to have strings made of human veins. The music produced by it always sounds horrible and terrifying.
A six-sided die that sometimes rolls a seven
A war banner that's  shredded, torn, and stained with blood, this standard has seen more than a single battle. The image of a red maw devouring sacred flames stands atop a field of black.
A wicked wand made of two withered and twisted branches, with one single leaf to the side and a small skull tied by a string at the base. The wand has a uncomfortable chill to the touch and sometimes sends shivers through the body.
A gruesome hand fan made of plucked faerie wings
A painting of a red-eyed wolf-man eating a corpse while making eye contact with the viewer. The corpse always vaguely resembles the viewer.
A stylish jet black long coat with a furred neck.
A knotted garment that fades in and out of nothingness. Knowledgeable PC's know that an order of religious monks one covered their eyes with such bindings. It is a perilous act to stare directly into the mouth of infinity. But once unburdened by vision, salvation shall be revealed.
A frozen, crystalline gland from some unknown ancient being. Hard as stone, it thaws slowly but eternally. The alien object is nearly translucent, revealing a void filled with nothing but bright, cold light. The glowing core holds a strange allure, turning the mind toward rapturous reminiscence.
A speckled owlbear hide, tooled with raised marks.
A baleful gem that glows a sickly green and tingles unpleasantly warm when touched. The sparkling object is less like a precious stone and more like the withering glare of corruption, made corporeal and pellucid in crystal.
A child's doll made from dyed, woven coconut fiber and dressed in linen.
A selection of maps, all rolled tightly together, and crammed into one tube. The maps all show the expansion of the same location over a period of 60 years, one new map every 10 years.
A dried caul wrapped in gauze, brittle but intact.
An old, fraying coat of the type a ship's captain would wear in bad weather. There is a small singed hole through the outer layers that stops at an inside pocket.
An eight inch wide roll of silk, which when unfurled is revealed to be an elaborately decorated sock kite in the shape of a koi.
A ball of high quality waxed twine with a platinum netting needle stuck through it.
A child's wooden toy animal with a note tied to it with twine that reads in childish writing "so u arnt lonly".
A crystal vial containing a pebble, ash, water and a measure of air.
A burlap bag large enough to hold a coconut. It is smooth to the touch and found in the color purple with a golden strap.
An arcane wand that is rough to hold and twists like a wild vine.
A bill from a sorcerer listing an exorbitant amount of gold for a spell to cure a terminally ill child.
A horn hair brush inlaid with small peridot stones.
A copper door handle of a manticore head holding a ring in its mouth.
A one gallon cask of Shump's Shield, a white beer with with the colour of horchata and stout beer consistency. The flavor profile is that of a milk stout with a very light hint of peppermint and nutmeg. It is typically brewed at temples to the God of war and distributed locally.
A demonic iron idol with bloodstone eyes.
A crude and somewhat obscene silver statue depicting a goblin chieftain.
A owlbear skin run.
A burlap bag containing 3d6 days’ worth of trail rations, each individually packed in waxed parchment and sackcloth and tied with string. Each packet contains an assortment of jerky, dried fruits, hardtack and nuts.
A decorative bronze key with a rose quartz in the bow.
A black-lacquered pyx decorated with pornographic images. On the sides and the lid of the small box, colorful hand-painted scenes of lurid degradation depicts men and women copulating not with one another but with jackals, hyenas, goats, and serpents. The box is brimming with coal-black crackers flecked with red. The unleaved bread has a faint but repellent odor or herbs, sulfur and vomit
A foot stool with silver-plated eagle claw feet and silken pillow.
A violet satin facemask with purple silk ties.
A quartz and horn prayer beads on a silk cord.
A crystal, bell-shaped terrarium with an easily identifiable, miniature apple tree with fruit laden branches growing from its mossy soil. The terrarium and tree within are three inches tall.
A dark leather pouch with silver clasps set with a tiger eye.
A lock of faded reddish brown hair bound and wrapped with a red ribbon strung with cowrie shells. The ribbon is embroidered in tightly stitched green thread "Return to me, my love".
An obsidian statuette of a leering gargoyle.
A porcelain pitcher with arboreal imagery.
A petrified toad with a variety of crystals growing from its back, diverse in material, color, size, and shape.
A prosthetic bronze hand with ivory fingernails.
A deed to a plot of land signed over to the church.
A bronze-plated trophy etched with two jousting figures.
A darkwood lute with silvered strings, decorated with a painting of a djinn flying island.
A silver snuff box etched with a portrait of the night sky.
A brass censer dangling from lead chains that emits smoke resembling writhing vines.
A crystal canine skull that continually burns with yellow flames that are painfully cold to the touch.
A wooden abacus with fortune telling symbols painted across its beads. It occasionally self animates and acts of its own accord, locking up for a brief moment before the beads spin wildly then stop with several symbols facing upwards before moving as normal again.
A mahogany cane tipped with corkwood and thin red leather covers its gracefully curved handle.
A cloudy white orb with a scarlet sheen to it. When the bearer stare into its depths he see shadows flickering throughout it.
A glass globe that has no visible opening on its dark clouded surface, and it is warm to the touch. Its contents appear to be a faintly glowing roiling cloud of flame.
A glass jar filled with clippings of dwarven hair and toenails.
A silver thimble containing a shimmering ballgown of spun moonlight. The ballgown is ... very see through, but can be worn over another nice dress of plain material to good effect.
A diagram of a hollow earth showing major access point below nearby city.
A porous stone flecked with emerald and sapphire dust that always feels damp to the touch.
A beautiful deck of cards resting in a strong leather pouch with an etching of a joker on the outside. The same etching is on the back of the cards.
An automaton crab. If wound up with the key in its brass carapace, it will menace any nearby animals with its snappy little mechanical claws.
A snowball warded such that it cannot melt. At its center is a small glyph-etched stone.
16 notes · View notes
hopeswriting · 3 years
Text
Modern AU (Adult!)Arcobaleno on socials media though. While Flames and mafia are definitely still a thing.
Now I’m by no means well acquainted to all the different popular socials media, but here’s my humble take:
Reborn on Instagram.
He only has pictures of Leon first and foremost, with him in the background in one of his ridiculous but very well-made cosplay. Leon of course also wears the same cosplay as him.
He never shows his full face in any of the pictures, but just enough his followers know he’s handsome as fuck.
The artists/photoshoppers among them regularly put the pieces together to see how he could look like, but in a funny-and-obviously-purposefully-wrong way only.
Reborn loves them and saves them all.
------
Once in a blue moon he does post a picture of himself where you can see him clearly all dressed up and fancy, and then immediately deletes it.
But only after he’s sure it has been seen, so he can watch his followers lose their shit while drinking a nice espresso.
They try hard, but so far none of them managed to save any of the pictures before he deletes them.
------
Often there’s what suspiciously looks like blood stains on their clothes and straight up dead bodies lying in the background, but Reborn went so passive-aggressive with the few who dared to ask, everyone is too afraid to ask now.
Anyone who badmouths Leon in any way is instantly blocked. But only after Reborn ripped them a new one AND let his followers do it too.
*
Skull on Twitter and Snapchat.
He tweets the most random, out of nowhere, highly worrying things, that always sent his followers in a frenzy trying to figure out why the fuck he would think of any of this in the first place??
“aren’t you ever tried of your solid, rigid, restrictive bones? don’t you want to just be Luffy from One Piece, a rubber being that can shape themself in whatever way they wish?”
or:
“nobody ever tells you this, but the stress of picking apart melted leather from your burnt skin before it heals is VERY worth the adrenaline of making fire your BITCH”
or:
“is it REALLY illegal if you break in and eat the food but leave money behind??”
------
That’s just his Twitter only followers though.
The ones on Snapchat have the privilege to watch him stumble head first step by step to his tweets, and are actually very involved and active spectators that keep him out of jail, or killing himself, or killing someone else.
Skull, recording a video, halfway stuck in between two buildings: What’s up guys, there're these guys following me and trying to kill me, quick tell me what bones to break so I can fit in there.
see also:
Skull, riding his bike, both of them suspiciously wet, holding a lighter in his hand: You guys ready for this sick fire stunt I came up with?? If everything goes well I should only get second to third degree burns, let’s do this!!!
see also:
A picture of Skull lying on a roof, his arms full of snacks and his mouth stuffed with food, with police cars in the background, that says: send tips to make sure there’s always food in your fridge for when you need it the most. #midnightsnack #snitchesgetstitches #justsaying
see also:
A picture of Skull crouched in front of a body, posing, that says: don’t worry guys we’re just faking, but hypothetically, if you were to hide a body as quick as possible from here without being seen, what would you do? #hypotheticallyseriousanswersonly #hypotheticallythecopsaremaybeontheirway #quickanswersappreciated
*
Verde on Facebook.
He creates a public group with only him as member that’s basically his scientific diary.
It’s not really to invite intellectual challenging debates (though he’d be all for it if someone smart enough showed up), but he figures it’s in his best interest to make the world a less dumb place if he can.
It finds his public, though there’s only a few comments because god forbid you say something dumb or inaccurate and Verde fucking annihilates you in the comment section.
But like, in a teacher way. Like he’s genuinely trying to make you know better but he’s just ruthless at it lmao.
Verde uses a fake name and a fake everything so there’s quickly a running joke along the lines of “Imagine if it’s really the genius scientist Verde running the group and you just outed yourself as a flat earther lol”.
------
But what gets the group really popular is the in depth flames theory involving weather of all things they have to assume he came up with it all on his own because they can’t figure out to save their lives what the hell he’s talking about?
And it makes them question their sanity sometimes because Verde talks about it like it’s the most obvious thing and in the context of just about every basic aspects of life.
Cue the conspirators and their hot new take of “the aliens were among us all along and hid themselves as the WEATHER!!!” that instantly turns into the new popular meme.
That, and the transcripts posts of Verde trying his theories that nine out of ten apparently involves very unwilling participants whose life are threatened and sometimes they straight up DIE???
------
They think both of these is just him fucking with them and it’s all fictional. They want to think it is anyway.
They’re not so sure, but everyone is too afraid to ask.
*
Colonnello on Snapchat.
70% of his content is about Lal because this man is so in love and it’s like he’s a guest on his own account lol.
There’s the “Pining Hard” content where it’s just him trying to seduce Lal, to romance her and asking her out, and Lal brushing all of it off more often than not.
His followers are very invested in this “old bickering married couple type of best friends in oblivious mutual pining” real live action slow burn fic, and cheers him hard whenever Lal reciprocates the tiniest bit.
------
They don’t know the two are already together.
They think Lal brushing him off or flirting back but in an unmistakably joking/”platonic” way is just her being oblivious and not taking Colonnello seriously.
When she would just rather flirt back off camera because it’s her private life thank you very much.
Colonnello never tells them because he assumes they all know and just choose to be in on the joke.
Lal finds it hilarious whenever she goes through his Snapchat (with his permission of course) to find numerous messages of encouragement, so she never says either.
------
But one day she kind of just steals a kiss from him while he’s recording because she wanted to, and his followers lose their shit.
Lal laughs herself to tears and laughs for days.
------
The other Lal’s related content is the “Lal’s loving hours”, where he just takes pictures of her/records her doing random shit---whether it's her making a disaster out of the kitchen, or wearing three pairs of socks because her feet are cold, or beating the shit out of someone---and him doing heart eyes at the camera.
------
Otherwise it’s just him living his life and letting them in on what happens.
There’s a lot of pictures because he’s handsome and he knows it and he likes the compliments aqsdfghj.
Or videos of him going on and on about how energy drinks are really the best drink ever while doing grocery.
Or ranting videos about how bullets wounds are such a pain to deal with and showing himself patching himself up to show how it’s done (thanks??!!??).
Or him watching series and roasting the characters for their dumb decisions.
Or him commenting in real time an assassination attempt on him in the middle of the night in his own fucking home because the fucker sure is ballsy (????!!!!!!???).
It’s very popular too because of how relatable it is.
Well, most of the time anyway.
*
Viper on Youtube.
They have a DIY type of channel, mostly about fashion---what they think about the new products/clothes they bought from their favorite brand, their thoughts on the new fashion trend, their makeup/skin care routine and favorite outfits for various circumstances, or they’re often on live while going shopping.
(I just really like Fashionista!Viper okay.)
They play videos games too, thinking they’re being very good while being very average to not say they straight up suck asdfghj.
Occasionally do reaction videos too.
------
Like Reborn they hardly ever show their face. Actually they don’t show it at all lol. They wear masks to do their videos because a hood is not very reliable.
How do they do their makeup videos then you ask?
They use "volunteer" as models of course.
And by volunteers I mean the Varia qsdftgyhjkl.
------
They also have another very peculiar brand of videos that is the most popular one on their channel. The titles of these videos include but are not limited to:
“A Due Payment Of Yours Is Late? How To Hunt Them For Sport”
“A Little Bitch Doesn’t Respect Your Pronouns/Chosen Name? Step By Step On How To Make Them Shut The Fuck Up Forever”
“How To Efficiently Remove Blood And Various Others Human Residue From Your Clothes”
“Faking Your Death And Taking On A New Identity: Step By Step Tutorial”
“How To Take Over Your Friends Brains And Watch Them Prank Themselves ft. The Varia”
*
Fon on Tumblr.
His blog becomes known as a shitpost blog or a blog run by a bot when really, everything he posts is about actual, very real events that happened in his life.
Except he vague posts every time because he really wants to keep his anonymity.
He posts about the hardships of learning more and more martial arts and staying at the top of the art, and sounds like some dangerous psychopath.
“The body is such a fragile thing, isn’t it? It tends to break quite easily unfortunately. You’d think I’d know that by then, but I really need to remember it more often so I can keep enjoying myself.”
He’s talking about how he always pushes himself too much in training and ends up injuring himself.
“Everyday I dispose of them and reasserts my superiority, and everyday they come back and it’s really hard to not hurt them beyond repair.”
He’s talking about how he’s often challenged by other martial artists who don’t like him being the best and how he always has to beat them up bloody for them to give up.
He also posts about his family's live except it’s the Hibari’s family live, and he doesn’t sound more sane of mind at all.
“I made the mistake of taking Kyo with me on my grocery trip and picked on his tell-tale signs of going through a bad day too late.
But fortunately the shop is still standing and no one was heavily injured.”
or:
“It’s so heartwarming to see Kyo make friends. The brown haired kid didn’t put much of a fight but the one with the pineapple haircut has potential.
He almost managed to stab him that one time, and I can’t wait to tease Kyo about it. He’s very cute when annoyed and embarrassed.”
or:
“Often I look back to the day Kyo got his tonfa and I am always infinitely grateful for this not-so-easy-to-kill-with weapon.
I would like for him to at least finish high school first.”
Yeah it’s very often about Kyoya lmao. And no one knows for sure what in the world a “Kyo” is supposed to be???
An actual human being is NOT the most popular theory qsdfghn.
*
Lal on TikTok.
I guess?? I’m kind of running out of ideas lol, and I know very little about TikTok.
But I’m thinking she makes a series of videos where she looks straight into the camera like she’s on The Office while some bullshit or the other happens in the background.
And it’s not even always her friends or coworkers or Colonnello (yeah he has a category of his own lmao).
As far as she is concerned everyone who chooses to be a fucking dumbass in her vicinity is asking for it aqsdfghj.
------
Also has a “Doing paperwork” series, and the later at night she’s doing it, the more she’s absolutely fucking done with people not being able to do their job properly without collateral damage.
She dryly reads out loud the highlights of the reports and goes straight for their lives lol.
But as funny as it is, everyone is more interested in the very questionable out of context content of these reports???
------
Also does workout videos, as in she demonstrates how to do this one or other exercise, and if these do particularly well it has nothing to do with how people want to look respectfully at her body, of course not.
ALSO has a “Colonnello’s Loving Hours” series because you better believe this woman is also so much in love.
She records him when he’s simply existing---whether he’s snuggling besides her while they’re watching TV, or dancing in the kitchen while cooking, or cleaning his guns---while looking at the camera with this tender, content expression on her face.
*
They become known as the Weather Lovers because boy, do these people like to go on about their favorite weather. Some shipping might even be involved??
It’s how their community introduces them to each other.
Cue even more chaos on their respective socials medias.
Viper’s video of their first meeting is the most popular one on their channel.
*
Yeah I know, I didn’t add the Sky Arco ladies, but I have no idea what they could do. Pinterest maybe? Or Vine? Dunno, they’re all yours guys lol.
29 notes · View notes
godkilller · 3 years
Text
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@magical-girl-coral​​
So we already know which arrancars are the best, and which ones are the worst, but who are the most fun to prank/ have the funniest reaction to being pranked?
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          out of character.  Gin voice: all of’em are th’ best to prank. No but this is an excellent question and since I’ve already taken a few shots at Gin’s opinions on each Arrancar / Espada, I’ll go ahead and just jump into the nitty gritty details of this one. WE ALREADY KNOW WHO GIN HATES THE MOST IN THIS LIST, but that doesn’t mean Gin won’t pass up on a chance to prank them. In fact, it may even make them the top victim !
DISCLAIMER:  Keep in mind that the opinions listed here are Gin’s, not mine. All of the Espada are neat and gifted us with an absolutely amazing era of Bleach. Keep on rockin’ on, lil Hollows, ilu.
Nnoitra. He’s so fucking stupid and falls for shit pretty damn easily, plus that short temper of his makes for comically explosive reactions that really can scratch Gin’s itch for mischief with a rewarding aftermath of Nnoitra going absolutely batshit. He may not be, technically, the BEST Espada to prank regularly since Gin doesn’t want to deal with him trying to start a fight, but he IS the most animated, idiotic on the list that’s just smarter than Yammy enough to understand when he’s being insulted, but too dumb to know how to avoid said insults.
Yammy. With the above being said, it’s pretty funny to prank Yammy in a similar but notably less rewarded fashion. In fact, if Gin has decided to prank Yammy, it’s usually not even for Yammy’s own reaction, it’s for whoever’s with Yammy. Because the Espada himself typically doesn’t realize he’s being joked about, and certainly doesn’t catch all of Gin’s sly comments, sneaky insults, and other teases. They tend to soar over his incredibly high up and thick skull. The endearing side of this is that, if Yammy realizes he’s been fooled, there’s usually a high chance of him laughing about it while simultaneously mentioning that he should really punch Gin for that. Gin doesn’t disagree.
Grimmjow. Definitely requires a little more absent-minded thought for Gin to truly trick this one. Grimmjow becomes more and more reckless the more riled he gets, and he kid of switches his brain off  ( in Gin’s opinion )  after a set amount of time once riled. So teasing and pranking him requires a gradual build up to sufficiently work, and Gin can’t drag things out for too long or else he’ll catch on and try to either fight him or ignore him. Usually Gin can reel him back by waving around permission for him to try and redeem himself via a World of the Living fieldtrip, see Ichigo again, yada yada... of course, Gin ultimately doesn’t fulfill that tease either. It’s funny to see him huff and stomp around.
Barragan. He’s so serious and stuffy and senile that Gin can actually step on his nerves with little to no effort. Barragan’s bitter and has a pretty strained relationship with Aizen as is, so Gin’s just salt to that wound. IT’S A LITTLE DANGEROUS TO TAUNT THE EX-LORD OF LAS NOCHES. But Gin’s always been one to flirt with death, so he pokes and prods to see just how patient, how tolerating, this supposed king can be. You know, people attribute a level-headed temper with leadership, and if Barragan wants to be seen as regal, Gin’s that ultimate test !  Plus, it’s funny to watch him try to keep his Fraccion from viciously defending his honor like untrained yappy dogs on leashes, barking and yipping at Gin as though they could ever harm him. It’s a buy one get one special to Gin: bothering Barragan, and the pranks involved, brings with it his loyal subordinates too.
Aaroniero Arruruerie.  Not really fond of scientists, Gin tends to not prank this one too much outside of vastly mispronouncing their name(s) on purpose. Gin’ll switch it up lots, even within the same meeting just absolutely butchering it in a different way. A list of names Gin has called them contains, memorably: Aroo-nylon Aroo-roo, Lava lamp, Ararararararara, Thing one and Thing two, Aerodynamics, Glubglub, Adidas, The Glob, Ariel and Aaron, Two Floating Balls, Autocorrect and Autocomplete, Cola and Two Mentos, and many many more.
Szayelaporro.  Gin’s not fond of him either due to the whole Mayuri vibe he catches a whiff of. He avoids pranking him since he knows that, if bitter and petty enough  ( which Gin knows Szayelaporro can become quite easily )  then there may or may not be new trap doors installed on Gin’s route to his bedroom. Besides, others bully this Espada all on their own, so there’s no need.
Starrk.  Gin doesn’t gain much of a reaction from the top dog, but the pup that’s connected to him ?  Lilynette’s fun to mess with for as long as Starrk tolerates the other portion of his soul being taunted. Gin tries not to be too needlessly cruel, though, since she is just a kid -- even if that’s technically not the truth since she’s a Hollow compiled from multitudes of other Hollow and also technically her and Starrk are two parts of one whole, but I mean... that’s where things get confusing. Gin’ll go for more funny pranks, lighthearted, but sometimes he’ll drop in the existential crisis on her and see how she works that whole can of worms out. What even are you, Lilynette ?  
Zommari.  He’s near the bottom because he’s too level-headed to get a rise out of, and Gin’s not interested in such a strong-feeling Aizen enthusiast. He’ll let the guy meditate in peace, or whatever the fuck he’s doing. Snapping his own neck like that ??? No thanks !  Bye bye !
Ulquiorra.  The poor lad just wants to understand human emotions and Gin’s got to pull the whole “oh you mean the soul / heart ? yeah, here’s some really deep insights on the concept of having those emotions and poetic information for you to store in your little emo boy brain but here’s the catch ! i’m just speculatin’ all this shit since i personally don’t have any of those so-called feelings. best’a luck, though !”  Gin won’t prank Ulquiorra too harshly, though, outside of that knee-slapper moment of Gin pulling his leg whilst simultaneously joking about his own lack of emotions masking the fact that he’s, also, having a an entire internal crisis about his heart. Same hat !
Harribel.  Nah. Gin won’t ever prank her. She puts up with enough bullshit being the only female Espada, he won’t add to it. Plus, he kinda doesn’t want to be drowned in his sleep if he manages to really piss her off.
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gizkasparadise · 4 years
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kdrama rec: arthdal chronicles
Master Kdrama rec list.
Series: Arthdal Chronicles/Chronicles of Arthdal Episodes: 18 (with an opening for another season) SEASON 2 IS ON! (one..day) Genres: fantasy, pseudo-historical, politics, romance, action/adventure/Quests Spoilers in the Review: yes regarding one character :/ they’re a main and their existence is a spoiler If You Like, You’ll Like: spartacus, REVERSE HAREMS, villain couples with functional macbeth realness, male characters with hair better than the female characters, but female characters generally being far far more competent, moon lovers but not as sad, dictatorships for the Aesthetic, blood+, anything with Mystic God Priest Power, Destiny
Rank: 10/10
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“owning the land is equal to owning the sky and the wind.”
Premise (spoilers for the first episode and the existence of a major character).
in the pseudo-Bronze Age, two races of people (the sarams and the neanthals) live in an uneasy co-existence. the sarams want an alliance for the neanthal’s lands so that they can farm and mine, the neanthals are like lol we don’t need any of that because we actually have survivalist skills so keep your agriculture you nerds b y e.
the leader of the saram is Not Having That, and sends an envoy (asa hon) to allegedly act as a diplomat. what she actually does is unknowingly carries a plague that wipes out a huge chunk of the neanthals. because that is not enough, the leader sends his son (tagon) to wrap up the rest of this genocide.
asa hon is betrayed and upset and doesn’t return to the sarams. instead, she shacks up with a surviving neanthal named ragaz and they have spoilers twin boys spoilers, hybrids known as igutu. based on Prophecy, any children born under the blue flame comet are Destined to bring calamity. so, doom babies. they are two doom babies.
after killing ragaz, tagon snatches one of the babies For Reasons, and asa hon flees with the other
flashforward about a decade.
the neanthals are extinct OR ARE THEY we get a pretty Quick understanding of who tagon is as a human as he’s re-introduced drinking out of one of their skulls before being surrounded by his hypemen who chant his name Gaston style. he’s joined by taeahla, and they are a Match Made in Hell. it’s quickly revealed that taeahl is raising the other twin baby, who is kept hidden because he’s igutu. and, like, tagon’s famous because he killed all of the neanthal, so having one of their hybrid babies is ngl
asa hon makes it to a land beyond the saram’s influence, where she and eunseom come across a tribe called wahan. they’re lead by a ten-year-old tanya, who had a dream that eunseom would arrive. which is a big deal, because sarams can’t dream. it turns out tanya was also born on Blue Comet Doom Prophecy Day. asa hon dies from the injuries she obtained saving her son, and eunseom is raised by the wahan tribe. it’s a very idyllic existence for them.
until tagon and his men invade in a manifest-destiny-realness bid to capture slaves and conquer land and ruin wahan’s coachella festival before enslaving all of them and bringing what survives of the tribe to arthdal.
the plot then centers around eunseom trying to rescue the wahan tribe, the wahan tribe trying to survive arthdal, and something about gods being reborn, political backstabbing, a church cult being absolute dicks, and a lot of interchangeable evil old men
it’s a fucking awesome show.
Characters.
Eunseom
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A PRECIOUS BEAN BABY
eunseom’s been a part of the wahan tribe since he was ten, but everyone (especially him) is aware he’s Different From The Rest of the Reindeer. the only one who treats him the same is tanya, and it’s clear these two are joined at the hip. he has dreams of being locked away in a tower, has a bunch of ~strange~ ideas like trying to ride horses, and is totes crushing on the soon-to-be village wise woman. once the wahan village is attacked, he makes it his mission to save the tribe and his One True Love tanya
pure. does not think things through. just wants to believe in people, god damn it.
tanya
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my wife daughter of the wahanian version of “crazy old maurice,” and apprentice to the Great Mother of the Tribe. as another child born under the Doom Comet, she’s been known as the Prophesied One since birth (the One Who Will Break the Shell). we meet her as she’s struggling to follow in the Great Mother’s footsteps, and her journey is grounded in uncovering her mystical destiny. naive and a fish out of water, she leads her people in surviving arthdal after their enslavement
moves like jagger. center of a reverse harem. by her pretty flower crown she can end you
tagon
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this bitch but also that bitch. almost single-handedly responsible for the genocide of the neanthals, tagon’s grown into the leader of an army that is the definition of ride-or-die for him. he has a 100% approval rating in arthdal due to defeating the neanthal, defeating the ago tribe, and defeating the will to live for the thousands of slaves he supplies for arthdal’s terrible economic system. he starts the series off with Pure Intentions, in that he wants to rule but he wants to do it by The Love of The People. because that works out well for people who habitually wear black cloaks
poster child #1 for arthdal’s fantastic hair products for men, will smirk you to death, you feel sorry for him a lot and you’re like why?? but then yeaaah, can only stare in heart eyes at his partner in subterfuge...
taeahla
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MY WIFE said partner in subterfuge. i cannot spell her fucking name ever. her and tagon have been Not Together for over ten years. she’s the heiress to the hae tribe, who are known for their inventions and are the only tribe that knows how to smith bronze into weapons. therefore she’s hot shit. and also just hot. she seems like the character You’re Not Going to Like but she became one of my favorites after the first episode.
she wants to help tagon in his ambitions, but she also v much wants to see his ambitions help herself. her and tagon made an Oath to never sacrifice their survival for the other and that’s the most metal thing i’ve ever heard. she wears couture. would get a pre-nup. can and will fuck you up. and she also raises the Hidden Igutu Twin Doom Baby...SPOILERS
saya
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so at this point you’re probably thinking a few things: this show needs more beautiful hair and pro fashion sense, a complete shit stirrer, and a morally ambiguous pretty boy.
well well well
saya is eunseom’s twin brother, although neither of them know about the other’s existence. because of their neanthal blood, they can see snapshots of each other’s lives in their dreams. as his existence would lead to death, and would DEFINITELY garner tagon some bad PR, saya’s been locked away in his princess tower for the majority of his life. he views tagon and taeahla as his father and mother, and that’s not necessarily a good thing.
daddy’s boy. wants to kill birds for fun. has the hots for the girl who can teach him how to kill birds for fun. surprisingly religious???
Other support characters selected by how much they are my favorites.
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mubaek. an OG warrior and tired wine uncle
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chae eun. daughter of the somehow singular doctor in arthdal and the only one who actually wants to help people. INCREDIBLE knit wear
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xabara WARRIOR QUEEN OF A TRIBE OF MERMEN
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yangcha. like. just look at him. you already know he was your favorite character in the 923840923 angsty anime you watched in 2010. Ultimate Warrior for tagon who has Taken a Vow of Silence and Wears A Half Mask So You Know He’s Actually Hot. the mask is torn off his face dramatically at least once. there’s a quota for that kind of thing, you know
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this horse.
Drawbacks.
it’s very much an Ensemble show, which means if you’re only watching for 1-2 characters you’re likely going to get frustrated. there’s several plot lines going on
there’s a lot of Interchangeable Evil Old Men and i dont care about any of them
IT ENDS ON A CLIFFHANGER AND SEASON 2 ISNT CONFIRMED YET ISNT GONNA BE UNTIL LIKE 2022
Reasons to Watch.
WORLD BUILDING. im a huge nerd for world building and the lore in this makes me so happy.
AESTHETICS. find me a more beautiful cast with more beautiful scenery and costumes. you can’t.
i love?? all the leads???? like normally i get frustrated with the second leads in dramas, but i genuinely love all of them and was interested in all of their stories. this show has an incredible cast/set of actors and they bring it home
im a sucker for romance. there’s some great ones. and omg do you know how rare it is to see a reverse harem?! get it, tanya
the time era is cool!!
Gods doing Mystical God Shit
so many female characters!!!!!! AND NONE OF THEM FIGHT OVER A MAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND THEY’RE ALL BETTER AT THEIR JOBS
Final Thoughts.
WATCH THE THING
IT’S ON NETFLIX
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vampiregirl1797 · 4 years
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Hopeless: Chapter Two
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Klaus Mikaelson x OC
GIF Not Mine
Click Here For My Masterlist
‘Well hello, love, aren’t you a sight for soar eyes?’ Klaus smiled, his eyes shining with both hunger and curiosity as he took in my clothing.
 Shit.
 I could understand his interest given that he was in fifteenth century clothes that were clearly stained with blood, while my skinny jeans, vest top and ankle boots were clearly not normal attire to wear in 1492. I was pretty sure I saw his eyes darken with lust when he saw how much cleavage this top showed—clearly it wasn’t a common way of dress.
‘Well maybe your soar eyes should look somewhere that would appreciate the attention.’ I retorted before I thought it through, ‘which is not here, encase that wasn’t clear.’
 He stared at me for a moment before he laughed loud enough that the sound echoed off the trees. I rolled my eyes and ran my hand through my hair, starting when he suddenly grabbed my wrist, all traces of amusement gone from his face—he looked angry and shocked.
 ‘Where did you get this?’ he demanded.
 I glanced down at what he was looking at and saw my daylight ring. I snatched my hand out of his grasp and took a step back, trying to think of an explanation—obviously daylight rings weren’t as “heard of” six hundred years ago.
 ‘I won’t ask again, love, so I suggest you tell me.’ He threatened, taking another step towards me.
 ‘Well, you see, the explanation is very simple…’ I trailed off, trying to think of a suitable reason.
 Klaus cocked his head to the side, a clear sign that he was waiting, impatiently. I was never good at thinking on my feet and after stuttering a few times I gave up… and ran for it. I could hear Klaus’ sigh of annoyance as I disappeared from in front of him and a second had barely passed before I heard him coming after me. I was screwed. I’d been here for less than a minute and I was probably about to get sent back—I was pretty sure Klaus was going to kill me when he caught me. I didn’t know how long I was running for but just as I was about to consider the possibility that Klaus had lost me I was forcibly pulled to a stop. I was pushed into a tree trunk and I groaned when I felt and heard the bones in my skull crack.
 ‘I do not appreciate it when people waste my time, love.’ He growled, his face a mere inch from mine and I felt my irritation spring up. I used it to push him away from me, ignoring the surprise on his face.
 ‘Excuse me if I didn’t want my heart ripped out before I could offer you an explanation.’ I huffed, biting my lip in concern—telling him I was from the future would be the easiest explanation, it would explain the clothing anyway. But I couldn’t exactly tell him I’d come back to kill him, could I?’
 ‘You know, I’ve killed people for looking at me the wrong way,’ he said casually, but his tone was anything but.
 ‘Yeah I know.’ I rolled my eyes.
 ‘How would you know? I assume my reputation precedes me?’ he smirked, smug.
 ‘I know because, I’m from the future.’ I said, my voice portraying confidence I didn’t feel.
 ‘The future.’ He repeated, his expression blank.
 Before I could blink he was right in front of me, his hand gently tilting up my chin so that he could meet my gaze.
 ‘Where are you from?’ he compelled.
 ‘The future,’ I said again, cursing myself for not consuming any vervain before I came—when Klaus had left Mystic Falls I had become a little lax with taking it. I made a mental note to find vervain ASAP before shoving him away.
 ‘I had to make sure you were telling the truth.’ He said, shrugging apologetically, though it was clear he was anything but.
 ‘So, what are you here for, love?’ He said, that curious glint back in his eyes.
 ‘I’m here to help you, with the ritual.’ I admitted, that was the only explanation I could think of, but I barely got out my words before his hand was clasped around my throat.
 ‘Seriously?’ I managed to get out, my voice seeping with irritation.
 ‘What do you know about the ritual?’ he compelled.
 ‘I know it’s used to break a curse placed on you by your mother. You need a werewolf, vampire and doppelgänger to sacrifice so you can release your werewolf side.’ I told him robotically; terrified he was going to ask the wrong kind of question.
 ‘Why did you come here?’ he asked and I groaned at the unfairness of everything.
 ‘To dagger you and hide your body where it couldn’t be found.’ I had no control over the words spilling out of my mouth.
 ‘How were you planning to do that? The daggers don’t work on me.’ He snarled, black veins appearing underneath his eyes due to his anger.
 I was surprised that he didn’t compel me when he asked the last question. I was even more surprised that he dropped his hold on my throat, allowing air to flow into my lungs with out restriction. Seeing as the cat was officially out of the bag I sighed and lifted up my shirt, revealing the gold dagger I had stashed there.
 ‘With this—it’s specially made for you.’ I told him, ‘but seeing as you know what I was hoping to do with it, how about we make a trade?’
 ‘And what could you possibly offer me that I couldn’t just take myself, love?’ he smirked, amused by me trying to negotiate.
 ‘I’m from the future. I know the ritual you’re about to attempt is going to fail.’ I continued when I noticed his eyes darken, ‘and without my help, it will be another six hundred years before you do break it. I’ll give you the dagger if you let me help you complete the ritual.’
 ‘And how does helping me complete the ritual help you?’ he clearly didn’t believe my intentions.
 ‘Because the whole point of me daggering you and putting you somewhere you wouldn’t be found was to stop you from coming to my town in half a millennia and screwing up my life by killing people I care about. If I help you now, there will be no need for you to enter my life and you won’t have to live with your curse for another six hundred years.’ I said, crossing my arms over my chest.
 ‘How do I know that you’re not lying to me, love?’ He said.
 ‘You’ll have to trust me.’ I said, throwing him the dagger and cocking my brow in challenge.
 He grinned and if I wasn’t mistaken I saw a flicker of admiration in his eyes, ‘very well. You’ll help me complete the ritual and then you can leave.’
 ‘Great.’ I nodded, but I was still tense. I had told him to trust me, but how was I supposed to trust that he wouldn’t kill me now that he had my only weapon against him?
 ‘Follow me, you’ll be staying with me and my brother.’ He informed me, he gestured to my left and I gave I’m my best do-you-think-I-was-born-yesterday look, which he apparently didn’t appreciate as he grabbed my arm rather harshly and started to drag me behind him.
 ‘How long until you do the ritual?’ I asked him after forcibly yanking my arm out of his grip.
 ‘Two weeks. The doppelgänger will arrive three days before the full moon.’ He informed me, ‘is there anything I need to be aware of?’
 ‘Not yet.’ I shook my head, knowing the real trouble would start when Katherine got here.
 ‘What is your name?’ Klaus asked.
 ‘Evangeline Gilbert.’ I told him, figuring him knowing wouldn’t hurt.
 ‘And who is it that I hurt so badly that you were willing to come back in time to save them?’ he was curious, but I didn’t understand why.
 ‘My family.’ I answered, purposely being vague.
 ‘I was expecting a boyfriend.’ He retorted.
 I rolled my eyes, fighting the amused smile that tried to form on my mouth—the truth was since my life had become mainly supernatural drama, I hadn’t exactly been dating like most people my age. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d had sex and that was just sad.
 I cleared my throat, shaking my head free of my thoughts, ‘well you expected wrong.’
 ‘Clearly.’ He said dryly.
 We stepped out of the woods, without the trees to block it, a beautiful house was revealed. I was in awe of the structure I saw before me; I had seen buildings like it in history books of course, but seeing it in person was incredible. It was hard to describe, but it was definitely a perfect example of medieval architecture. I noticed Klaus observing my reaction but I ignored him and moved to follow him inside, only to hit an invisible barrier.
 ‘Ugh… Klaus?’ I said, trying not to let annoyance seep into my tone—I didn’t know if he had done this on purpose after all.
 ‘Yes, love?’ he said. I noticed the amusement in his eyes when he turned around, ‘it appears you’re stuck.’
 ‘Give the man an award.’ I muttered sarcastically, ‘would you please to tell the compelled human who owns this house to invite me in?’
 ‘Well since you said please,’ he smirked, ‘Lily!’
 An elderly woman joined Klaus in the hall, her eyes were unfocused, the clear indication that she wasn’t in control of her own body.
 ‘Yes, Lord Klaus?’ she asked robotically.
 ‘Please invite my friend in,’ he ordered.
 ‘Come in.’ she said and I offered her a kind smile she couldn’t have registered as I stepped over the threshold.
 ‘That will be all.’ Klaus said, not sparing the elderly woman a glance; his eyes were on me and the clothes I was wearing.
 ‘What?’ I asked, my hands on my hips.
 ‘You can’t wear that.’ His chin gestured to my outfit.
 ‘Really? I think twenty first century fashion blends in pretty well.’ I said sarcastically.
 ‘Do all women from your time speak to men so brashly?’ he asked, his brows rising in amusement, ‘I quite like it. Compliance isn’t fun. I like fire in a woman.’
 ‘Are you trying to seduce me?’ I said bluntly, annoyed when his confident mask didn’t falter.
 ‘You’re an attractive woman.’ He shrugged as if that was answer enough.
 ‘I’m not talking about this. Where exactly will I be staying?’ I tried not to snap at him, seeing as he was actually being co-operative.
 ‘You’ll be staying in my quarters.’ He said, offering me a devilish smirk before turning to lead the way, cutting off my retort.
 I followed him, making sure to pay attention to my surroundings so I could find my way there and back without a problem. I noticed all of the artwork on the walls, they seemed to be hand painted and I wondered if Klaus had painted them, or maybe even Elijah. But even as I thought it I dismissed it—Elijah seemed more like a guy who enjoyed reading in silence, Klaus I could easily picture as an artist.
 ‘Here you are Eva,’ Klaus’ voice snapped me out of my thoughts and I saw him gesturing to a closed door, when I joined him there he pushed it open.
 Before I could enter he stopped me with a hand on my arm, gesturing to the room across the hall when I looked into his eyes, ‘I’m across the hall.’
 The way he said it was not friendly; he was warning me not to try anything, not to run, because he would be able to hear me if he did. The tone of his voice indicated that the punishment wouldn’t be kind if he caught me doing anything he didn’t like.
 I nodded and walked into the room, closing the door behind me—I could have groaned when I saw that there wasn’t a lock. Deciding I wasn’t going to have any privacy while I was here, I turned to look at where I would be living for at least two weeks. Honestly, it was beautiful, in a gothic kind of way but I assumed it was the most luxurious way of living for people in this time. While I appreciated the architecture in books, I wouldn’t want to have my own home styled this way—every piece of wood present was dark, the canopy hanging over the bed matched the walls, sheets and drapes—it was a bloody red. I felt like I was in Christian Grey’s red room of pain, except without the “toys.” I walked over to the closet near to the bed and tentatively opened it, only to find it empty but I just shrugged—I didn’t like the idea of wearing something Klaus got for me anyway.
 But I couldn’t go out looking like this without drawing attention and I needed to feed. I could go into town—however far away it was—and get some culturally appropriate clothes and potentially find someone to feed on, if I could find the nerve. I had never fed from the vein before and I didn’t know if I wanted to test my control where there was no one near who I trusted to stop me if I went too far. But I would have to; I couldn’t afford to become weak around Klaus, or Elijah for that matter. He may be noble, but during this time, his loyalty lay with his brother.
 Having made my decision I turned and headed out of the room, silently making my way downstairs. It was time to see more of the fifteenth century.
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kumeko · 4 years
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A/N: For the @bnha-fantasy-zine ! Is it a surprise I wrote about big three and Eri again? I think not
“HAAAAHHHHH!” Mirio yelled as he charged forward. Shield raised, he blocked an incoming attack before deftly slashing with his own sword. His opponent, a rough-looking thief, grunted as she jumped back, narrowly missing a killing blow. Not that Mirio’s sword missed by much—the cut on her arm was sure to sting.
 “I can’t find their leader!” Tamaki shapeshifted into a wolf, pouncing on the thief before she could recover. His jaws tore through her flesh, leaving a bloody wound on her shoulder. It was too much for her—the wound, the blood, the wolf, and she fainted.
 “Thanks.” Wiping the sweat from his eyes, Mirio glanced around the cave, the hideout for a gang that terrorized a local town. A huge system of tunnels and caverns, it had taken them over an hour to find this main chamber. Another twenty minutes to clear it of the thieves and rogues that called it home. Whatever ones were still alive would be taken into questioning, but considering how hard they fought, there might not be many. “I don’t see him either—they said he had a crow’s mask, right?”
“It might just be a beaked mouth, maybe he’s a shapeshifter too,” Tamaki suggested, his voice oddly gravelly. Maybe it was the wolf vocal chords. No matter how many times it happened, Mirio still couldn’t get used to hearing a human voice from an animal. “I’ll check.” Tamaki sniffed the air. “There it is!”
 Before Mirio could stop him, he bounded off down a corridor. Damn it, they weren’t supposed to separate. Mirio scanned the room: the bandits were all down, either dead or groaning with pain. None of them seemed capable of getting up, let alone fight. Satisfied, he ran after his friend. “I’m coming!”
 “Hurry up!” Tamaki howled, more wolf than man. His cry echoed through the shaft.
 That didn’t sound good. Gripping his sword tighter, Mirio sprinted down the dark tunnel. On the right wall, Tamak’s tail disappeared through a door. “Here!”
 Barely slowing down to turn, Mirio bounded into the gloomy room and slipped into a fighting stance. Just like the rest of the cavern, the lighting here was a single, flickering bar on the top. No one popped out at his entrance. “How many?”
 “One.” Tamaki ran toward a corner, where a bundle of blankets was piled up. He started nosing it. “Hiding. They smell—”
 “Smell what?” Mirio heard a hard crunch as he stepped forward. Looking down, he spotted a dirty doll. In a bandit’s hideout. Did it accidentally get mixed in with the loot? Tamaki still hadn’t responded and Mirio’s brow raised. “Tamaki? What is it?”
 “Mirio,” Tamaki replied balefully, wolf ears drooped down. He was sitting on his haunches now, his gaze fixed on the blankets. “What do we do?”
 “What do you mean?” Leaving the doll behind, he quickly trotted to his friend. They’d fought a whole gang together. Just what was left that could stump his friend? “We—”
 Catching sight of the bundle, Mirio cut himself off. Nestled in a cocoon of blankets was a little girl, fast asleep.
 -x-
 There were few things on this planet as magical as Nejire’s grove. Mirio would know—as a knight, he had travelled to lands near and far and almost nothing took his breath away as that first view as he entered her lands. Graceful willow trees and towering oaks ringed her field, a wide, open field littered with wildflowers. A dirt path led to a secret grotto, which was perhaps his second favourite place.
 It was a pity he couldn’t appreciate any of these things. Instead, most of his attention was focused on the little girl in his hands, sound asleep. In the few days he had known her, she had barely said a word, only looking at him and Tamaki with big, worried eyes. A kidnapped child? Possibly, but no villages had reported missing people or even a ransom. Most likely scenario, an orphan taken in or a child of the gang. Either way, she had to have seen terrible things, especially considering how she had trembled when he’d first held her hand.
 “We’re almost there,” Tamaki muttered, trotting nervously next to him. He’d taken on the form a giant elk, fierce horns jutting out of his skull. Only animals could find the way to Nejire’s home. “You have them, right?”
 “What?” Shaken from his thoughts, Mirio raised a brow.
 “My clothes!” Tamaki whispered nervously, his big eyes darting to and fro as though Nejire would pop out at his words. “I need to change before she spots us.”
 “Afraid to be caught buck-naked?” Grinning, he couldn’t resist the obvious pun. It was just there. And obvious. It’d take a greater man than him to ignore it. Patting the bag looped over his shoulder, he added reassuringly, “Don’t worry, I made sure to grab them.”
 Tamaki sighed in relief. “Thanks—”
  A breeze ruffled through his hair before he could add anything and Mirio could almost hear Tamaki’s groan. Within seconds Nejire appeared before them, forming out of the wind itself. She hovered over the ground, her simple white dress fluttering around her knees. At the tips of her blue hair, mini-tornadoes formed, harmless to touch. Her bright eyes were open and staring at them as she floated in the air. “Hey, you’re here!”
 Surprised, Tamaki transformed back into a human out of reflex. A burst of smoke rolled off him, hiding him from sight, but not before they both caught a glimpse of his bright red skin. With a yelp, Tamaki dived into the bushes. Nejire blinked, surprised. “Tamaki?”
 The bushes rustled and Mirio could just barely make out Tamaki’s eyes peeking out of the leaves. “My clothes.”
 “Hey, hey!” Nejire landed on the ground and crouched in front of the bushes. With a frown, she started to reach into the bushes. “I’ve seen you naked before.”
 “Accidentally!” Tamaki hissed, clarifying immediately. He swatted her hands away.
 “It was multiple times!” Nejire grumbled, rubbing her sore hand.
 “Every time was an accident!” Tamaki’s hand poked out of the bush, as red as a lobster’s. “Clothes!”
 Mirio chuckled. Well, that was to be expected as a shapeshifter. Animals didn’t really wear clothes, after all. Shrugging off his sack, he dropped it into Tamaki’s waiting hand. “Here you go.”
 “I don’t get it.” Nejire puffed her cheeks, sulking as she stepped back. “What’s the big deal?”
 “Uh…” Mirio scratched his cheek, not sure how to explain any of this. Especially to a sprite that only started wearing clothes because Tamaki was going to die of a heart attack every time they met otherwise. “Well, he’s shy?” It was partially correct, at least.
 “Sure.” Nejire clearly didn’t believe a word but she let it go. Rocking on the heels of her feet, she glanced at him. “What’s with the blankets?”
 “Right.” Mirio glanced at the bundle in his arm. He’d almost forgotten why they were here in the first place. Fortunately, Eri hadn’t woken up yet. “I need your help.”
 “My help?” Nejire clapped her hands excitedly, her powers spiking and making her float. “We haven’t gone on an adventure together in ages!”
 “Last month,” Tamaki corrected, emerging from the bushes fully dressed. “We went together last month.”
 “That was long ago!” Nejire argued, before grimacing. “Why are your clothes so bad?”
 Tamaki looked away, rubbing his arm uncomfortably. “It’s easier to slip out of them.”
 Mirio couldn’t argue about that—while everything Tamaki wore now was oversized and ill-fitted, he didn’t have to worry too much while he was shapeshifting. His pants, so loose they actually needed a belt to stay on? It’d just drop off as he transformed. An irregular tunic? Cheap material that wasn’t a loss if Tamaki tore right through them. They’d learned the hard way what happened to nice clothes the last time they attended a banquet.
 “Yeah, I get that.” Nejire rolled her eyes, leaning forward to poke at his chest. “But there’s fashionable baggy clothes.”
 An old argument. Mirio stepped between them before they got trapped in it again. “Anyways, I need your help.” He uncovered Eri’s face, showing her to Nejire. “This little girl—”
 “You’re pregnant?” Nejire shrieked, her hands pumping excitedly as her eyes darted from Eri to Mirio. “She doesn’t look like you. Is that normal?”
 “WHAT?” Mirio felt his ears burn and he was sure his skin colour was only a shade away from turning into Tamaki’s at this point. “I’m not…t-this isn’t…”
 “People don’t work like that.” Tamaki’s lips twitched, clearly suppressing his own laughter.
 “Yeah!” Mirio shook his head furiously. “Also, she’s three. That’s not what a human baby looks like.”
 “Oh.” Nejire’s shoulders slumped, disappointed. “I see.” After a second, she perked up again. “You got someone else pregnant!”
 “No, we were catching a gang of thieves and found her at the hideout!” Mirio clarified quickly, before the misunderstanding could get any worse. He knew nymphs and other magical creatures had different norms, but even this? Seriously? If his skin got any redder, any hotter, he could cook an egg on it.
 “You got a gang member pregnant?” Nejire looked at him pityingly. “Mirio…that’s a tragic romance.”
 Mirio hit his head against a tree.
 -x-
“We’re almost there,” Nejire chirped cheerfully, skipping ahead of them on the forest path. “But do we really need to talk here? What’s left to even discuss?”
 “Something important.” Mirio glanced down at the little girl clutching him tightly, as though she would get snatched away the second he let go. Her tiny hand wrapped around his finger. He’d never realized just how small she was until now. Even during the ride to Nejire’s place, he’d been more wrapped in on what he had to do. “I think the gang might try to take her back and we need to talk somewhere safe.”
 “Safe, huh.” Nejire grinned, turning around walking backwards. She rubbed her nose, proudly puffing her chest. “Hey, hey, nowhere is safer than my field.”
 “Yep.” Tamaki pulled his hood tighter over his head. Ahead of them, the forest path ended, opening up to a field of wildflowers. “I can wait here.”
 Eri glanced at him nervously, her lips curving down. As her wide, worried eyes bored into him, Tamaki looked away. “…I’ll stay.”
 “Hey, hey.” Nejire pointed at herself, feeling a little left out. “I’m a good person too.”
 Eri shuffled to her left until she was partially hidden behind Mirio’s legs. Her head peeked out as she studied Nejire. She’d been like this ever since she woke up in the middle of their reproductive argument. Which, in hindsight, was hopefully something she didn’t hear any part of. Not recognizing any of their surroundings or Nejire, she’d hid behind Mirio until he managed to coax her into walking beside him.
 To be perfectly honest, Nejire wasn’t really what you’d call a normal person, so Mirio could understand her fear. Crouching down, Mirio patted Eri’s head gently. “She’s a good friend.”
 “Your friend?” Eri whispered, her voice cracking from disuse. Her body pressed against his as she took in Nejire.
 “Really,” Mirio confirmed, straightening up. He held out his hand for Eri to grab. “I know you’ll like her.”
 Doubtful, Eri grabbed his finger again. Well, it wasn’t much, but it was a start. Though, clearly Nejire didn’t see it that way, with the way she dejectedly continued to lead the way. As they entered the clearing, she half-hearted gestured at the expanse. “Welcome.”
 “Wow!” Eri gaped as they entered the field of wildflowers and Mirio felt his own jaw drop. It was even prettier than last year. While the forest surrounded it, the field was filled with only flowers, more colourful than a rainbow. Her head turned this way and that. “Pretty.”
 “Very pretty,” Mirio agreed, crouching next to her. He broke off a pink flower and tucked behind her ear. “And now you’re pretty.”
 Eri’s chubby fingers touched flower tentatively before she broke into a shy smile. Glancing at Nejire, she leaned forward and whispered into Mirio’s ear, “She looks like a princess.”
 “Oh.” Mirio felt a wave of relief at that—so she wasn’t really scared of Nejire. Just nervous. Just shy. Nodding, he whispered back, “You should give her a flower, she’d like that.”
 Eri’s eyes widened. Her fingers nervously twisted her shirt as she glanced at him, and then at Nejire, before finally shaking her head and hiding behind him. Mirio laughed, maybe it was a little too fast for that then.
 “Mirio.” Tamaki tapped his forehead, worry colouring his voice. “We have to ask.”
 Mirio glanced at him, then at Eri. The reason they were here. A part of him was scared to ask, because he knew that once he asked, he couldn’t unask. Couldn’t unhear. Still, if he was scared, how much more scared was Eri? Putting on a brave smile, he asked, “Hey, Eri, could you show Nejire your forehead?”
 Eri pulled back and blinked. Her head cocked to the side, not comprehending.
 Nejire had an identical expression, confused. “What are you talking about?”
 “Eri has this little bump on her forehead.” Mirio gently coaxed Eri to stand in beside him, his arm wrapped around her shoulder. Slowly, he pulled the hair away from her forehead, exposing the growth to the sunlight. Her little body trembled but she didn’t pull away.
 “There’s something magical about it.” Tamaki rubbed his shoulder, averting his gaze when Nejire turned to him. “I can smell it…it’s strong.”
 “Strong, huh?” Nejire crouched in front of Eri. Her hand on her knees, she peered up at the girl. “Is it okay if I touch it?”
 “Y-yes.” Eri swallowed, nodding her head slowly. Her big eyes followed Nejire’s hand as she reached up to touch it. At contact, she winced and squeezed her eyes shut. When nothing happened, she timidly opened her eyes once more.
 “Huh.” Nejire’s smile stayed on, but her tone dropped a notch, more serious than silly for once. Her eyes narrowed. “I can feel it.” She pulled her hand away suddenly, staring at it. “Interesting.”
 “Interesting?” Mirio wasn’t sure if that was good or not.
 “It’s…an erasing magic? Something like that.” Nejire tapped the horn again before sitting back on her haunches. Pulling a lock of hair, she drew it forward for him to inspect. “See?”
 “See what—” Mirio’s jaw dropped as he realized that Nejire’s hair actually looked like hair for once. No tornado curls, no bits and pieces disappearing and reappearing. Just human-like hair, to match a very human-like girl. All of Nejire looked human-like for once, even her usually sparkling eyes seemed dimmed. “Are you okay?”
 “I’m fine, I’m fine.” Nejire waved away his concern. “It’ll come back.” When Eri’s face fell, Nejire added, “Don’t worry, your magic isn’t that powerful yet.”
 “Magic?” Tamaki winced, pursing his lips together. “Then…a witch’s coven…”
 “That’d probably be the best place to take her. They can help her control it.” Nejire stood up straight now, stretching her arms above her. “But enough of that gloomy talk!” Tapping the side of her head, she grinned. “Hey, that flower looks really pretty on you.”
 Flustered, Eri brushed her fingers against the flower. A shy smile bloomed on her face. “T-thank you.”
 “And you’re all staying here tonight.” Nejire rested her hand on her hips, gazing determinedly at the forest. There was an almost predatory gleam in her eyes. “I’ll get food. Berries and meat, right? That’s what people eat?”
 “How do you not know that?” Tamaki muttered, staring at her in disbelief. “You’ve seen us eat.”
 “Yeah, but I haven’t seen little yous eat.” Nejire replied matter-of-factly, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. After all that they’d discussed today, Mirio wasn’t sure what was common sense anymore.
 “That’s not what a…” Tamaki rubbed his forehead, a headache forming. Giving up, his shoulders slumped. “Fine, whatever.”
 Mirio chuckled. Nejire was a force of nature, it was almost impossible to argue with her. Even harder to win an argument against her. Feeling a tug on his shirt, he glanced down to find a bright blue flower. Eri held it out to him. At his stare, she mumbled, “So y-you’re pretty too.”
 His eyes widened, for once not sure what to say, how to look. When she shifted nervously, Mirio caught himself and curled his hand delicately around the bloom. “Thanks.” There was a burning sensation in his throat, his eyes watery, but he pushed it away. “It’s beautiful.”
 Eri’s expression brightened and she turned to the other two. Feeling a little more courageous, she took a step toward them. “For…you two.” She held out a hand, two flowers resting in her sweaty palm. “So you’re pretty,” she added, anxiously.
 Her other hand clutched the hem of Mirio’s shirt and he wiped his eyes before they got anymore watery at the sight of a tiny, brave girl.
 Nejire had no such complications. The second she spotted the flowers, her eyes gleamed with unshed tears. “Awww,” she cooed, taking a pink flower. She tucked it behind her ear immediately. “What do you think?”
 Tamaki picked the other one, an orange blossom. “It smells nice.”
 “…you look like a princess,” Eri mumbled, shyly looking down at her toes.
 Speechless, Nejire’s jaw dropped. Her arms flung around Eri’s, giving her a tight hug. “We’re keeping her.”
 “What?” Tamaki stopped sniffing his flower. “We can’t do that.”
 “Why not?” Nejire pulled back, gazing at Eri. “You want to stay with me too, right?”
 “Huh?” Eri’s eyes widened, the thought never crossing her mind before this. “I can?”
 “I see. I have to win you over.” Letting go, Nejire pulled back. She squinted, scrutinizing Eri. “You’re hungry, right?” Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and sprinted to the forest. “Hey, hey, you’ll have the best meal ever.”
 “What in the—” Tamaki sighed, his shoulders slumping. He glanced at Mirio. “We have to stop her.”
 “Yeah.” Mirio twirled the blue flower in his finger before tucking it behind his ear. “Yeah, of course.”
 Yet Eri’s hand was still holding his shirt and he wasn’t sure if he could tell her to let go. He wasn’t sure if he could let go himself. He was a knight. Nejire was a nymph. Tamaki, a shapeshifter. If the three of them couldn’t protect a little girl, who could? Maybe, just maybe, it’d be better if they all stayed together.
 “She’s so fast!” Eri chirped, looking up at him with a wide, bright smile. For once, she looked like an ordinary kid, open and eager to explore. Entirely unlike the child he’d found in the bandit hideout, shaking and terrified. 
 Maybe Tamaki was right, maybe they couldn’t keep her here. None of them had any skills with raising a child. Yet, for that smile, he wanted to try. Nejire could teach her magic and he could teach her everything else and maybe, just maybe, Eri could know a little about what an ordinary life was like.
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Good morning! (or evening?) How are you ? Can I ask for some headcanons about Undertaker and Grell (Grelle? I never know the right spelling = =") in 21th century style? (like, what job they do ? their hobbies in our epoch?) Thank you in advance (I hope my ask wasn't rude
It wasn’t rude at all, don’t worry! Actually, it was nicer than I expected but I understand your feelings, since I’m always all sweaty whenever I have to send a request myself. Am I polite enough? Did I use enough thank-you’s???
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Undertaker:
Let me tell you, death and gastronomy are one of the few business branches which will never get old. No matter at which century you are in, if you open a funeral home or a restaurant, you will likely always have customers. Always. That is why, Undertaker’s profession is timeless and will never get out of fashion.
Still, 21st century offers quite a lot of various perspectives for the future and I believe that he would be tempted to try some of them.
Undertaker would test his skills in acting and become an actor. Let’s be honest, this man has some experience in pretending to be someone else and now it might be the right time to use it simply to have fun. He has always enjoyed theaters and movies, and thus being part of the show, receiving an applause from the audience is something which will bring a genuine smile to his face. He won’t care for the fame, though, on the contrary, he will do everything to avoid paparazzi (which will be mostly sneaking into the bushes or pulling the collar of his turtleneck over his head). Of course, he will only play in comedies. What a time to be alive undead!
Since he is not the type who wants to receive too much attention all the time, Undertaker would quickly disappear from the business and find a place where he can quietly work on something more significant. Entertainment is necessary but not all the time, so he will decide to open a small shop—the one you can see in the movies where the witches hide their identities by pretending to be an actual witch.
He will have a whole lot of various, potentially dangerous and/or illegal objects to sell. He will also enjoy designing the shop to look as spooky as possible, wondering how would people react for something like this today. And he won’t be disappointed, having a client from time to time and realizing that not witchcraft nor black magic are scaring humans now. On the contrary, they seem to enjoy this, just like they like going to the cinema to watch some horror and the others getting murdered. Well, at least those are only actors.
Undertaker will purposely tell some creepy facts to the customers or scare them by appearing out of nowhere, amused that they were never suspecting anything about him. Selling talismans (against the demons, mostly), fake (or not) skulls and bones, and peculiar old books will grant him some fun before coming back to his old profession and working with the dead again.
He believes it is something he deserves to do, the only thing still having any purpose and keeping him in touch with the past. The dead were as dead back then as they are now, nothing changed and it brings him some kind of peace.
Grell:
Oh, Grell would like to try everything! Literally! The amount of activities she could perform without worrying about anything will make her heart beat so fast! It is so exciting, the possibilities, the access to everything, why couldn’t it all happen faster?
First of all, Grell be very active on all social media. All of them. She will count the likes, followers, aspire to become an influencer, have her own YouTube channel with beauty and fashion tricks, everything you can think of. And she will be surprisingly good at it, having quite a huge audience (”T-two millions subscribers over one night?! Have you heard that, Will, my darling?! Jeffree Star can kiss my—!”).
She will have a time of her life and will openly call it the best century she has ever lived through. Attending pride parades and organizing some events on her own will happen to be a significant part of her life, as if she found another goal, seeing how it helps people who are feeling generally lost. However hard it may be to believe, her long-life experience will be quite helpful there, especially when it comes to giving advices, which will be risky but eventually may make few people feel better about themselves.
Grell will undoubtedly be a fashion icon, impossible to not get noticed when walking on the streets, always looking marvelous and receiving a lot of jealous looks. She knows how to handle hate and the fact that she can finally dress however she likes will be a great pleasue for her. No longer than one hundred years ago she wouldn’t even dream of attending a gala in such a lovely dress and to receive so many compliments on the red carpet, and yet there she is!
She will have a rough time balancing her work and everyday life, though. Being a grim reaper when you are known and adored is much bigger trouble than she previously thought and so, she will eventually decide that the best option to push away all suspicions will be to simply leave a joke there and there about killing people and being Jack the Ripper. Who would believe that, anyway?
21st century will be the time when she might feel more compassionate toward the others, using her power to help those in need like a hero with the red cape. On the other hand, she will deeply miss the romantic times—the secret romances, stolen kisses, perfumed letters. Being open about everything has its advantages but there was also something moving, magical about the mask of etiquette people were wearing back then.
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3wisellamas · 5 years
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Hey, remember my pet cracktheory that Darrell is a clone of Laserblast, or is somehow connected to him in some way?  I finally cleaned up and sorted out my full list of weird things I’ve noticed that they both have in common, or that otherwise support that, or are just weird about this stupid robot in general.  Because I wasn’t fucking joking about there being a lot of it.  Probably not gonna actually amount to anything, especially with not much series left, but meh.  It’s fun.  Enjoy.
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Appearance/Body:
(Okay, I admit most of this section was pretty much killed by Darrell's canon human form in OK AU, which looked NOTHING like Laser at all.  But just in case...)
-Identical body shape/proportions to LB/SF, with wider torso/hips and very thin waist -- maybe a little smaller because he's a teen (and a robot)
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-Very close head shape to LB/SF/PV:  square jaw (when it’s not exaggerated to make him cuter), similar rectangular shape and proportions if you include the braincase (since it would normally be inside his skull)
-LB's mask looks a LOT like Darrell's head, with the entire top half and most of the sides of his head covered and with circular ear...things
-That mask also tends to be quite expressive, almost functioning as a single eye sometimes
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-Their big heavy boots are also kinda similar (Though honestly Darrell's boots look slightly more like Chip Damage's...)
-LB is based off of the superhero Cyclops, and Darrell is literally a cyclops
-Only robot that really seems to have an organic, human brain, and has human feet too along with Shannon -- even for just the feet, someone's DNA has to be cloned to make him, and not necessarily Boxman's.
-Darrell can grow stubble, according to that one tiny joke shot in Let's Watch the Boxmore Show; his face may be organic just like his brain and feet.  Also worth noting, the specific spots on the side of the jaw where LB's/SF's stubble shows are covered by metal for Darrell -- when comparing Darrell and LB, each character's most distinctive visible features (one eye and brain, cheek stubble) are covered up on the other!
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Costumes:
-Darrell seems to enjoy dressing up as a HERO -- when he's in cowboy mode he plays a sheriff, and when the bots play Golden Statues he always plays the museum guard, both specifically hero roles!
-In fact, the costumes in general -- he definitely likes pretending he's someone else, rather than just being fashionable like his siblings.
-LB and SF both hide their eyes, and may have something unusual/distinctive about them, especially with Laser because of his eye-based powers.  LB!SF in particular would hide his if there was something that might immediately get him recognized as his former identity.  Perhaps only having one eye (hence the visor acting as one on occasion like I pointed out)?  (We got to see behind LB's mask once in Gar's fear sequence in Face Your Fears, with one red eye showing where the mask was broken, but there it did look like he had two.  However, Gar would never have seen what was ACTUALLY under there...)
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Habits/Personality:
-LB was an anti-hero, willing to do some fucked-up things in the name of good, while Darrell is an anti-villain, who focuses more on just doing his job, having fun, and trying to make his father happy than crushing the heroes out of malice
-Darrell's also just a terrible villain in general.  Of course, he's directly killed another villain (or tried to anyway), and his idea of doing the most evilest thing was reporting Boxman's lies to the board and stopping him, AKA doing the RIGHT thing -- even with the betrayal, not very villainous of him, huh?
-Weird shared oral fixation?  There's a very unusual emphasis on food/mouth things with Darrell (his lowkey obsession with eating, spitting Boxman into the spitoon in his office, brushing his teeth), and LB's trademark was always having that lollipop in his mouth.
-Hugging soft cute animals, like Rippy and Fink
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-Darrell writes in concrete in You're Level 100, and LB does the same using his eye laser in Glory Days (in the POINT theme song)
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-Neither one is a big fan of new members of their respective teams right away.  LB refused to take junior members with him in both Glory Days and Let's Take a Moment, and doesn't seem to think much of them in either episode at all, aside from Silver Spark (and then, he still left her behind as one of his lookouts).  Darrell...just freaking HATES new siblings at first, having a problem with every single one he gets, at least the ones we've seen (we didn't get to see his and Mikayla's introduction).  He's also like this to siblings he considers inferior to him, to a point -- he and Shannon both got pretty jealous when Boxman started praising Jethro's "new moves."
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Boxman stuff:
-Timing is correct, Darrell and the others were created right after LB disappeared according to Lad and Logic, since Boxman only drew the first three members in his original plans to attack POINT, and Gar was already building the plaza by the time Boxmore was opened.  This means the Boxbot quadruplets and KO were actually born around the same time, making them all 6-11 years old, roughly the same amount of time that's passed since the Sandwich Incident.
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-Boxy was obsessed with POINT at that time (and still is, since he's kept the coordinates for POINT HQ memorized), and possibly LB himself (given his later attraction to PV)
-Boxman may also have some POINT tech and connections of his own?  First off, access to a huge supply of glorbs, the easiest and closest source of which Foxtail and Carol have been protecting and heavily monitoring, and are normally very hard for non-heroes to get their hands on.  Second, those boxes he sends the robots to attack in might use the same wormhole tech as POINT Prep's bus, since it looks a little similar both in transit and emerging at its destination, plus its driver sounds exactly like Ernesto.  And speaking of Ernesto, that one time he straight-up drew a POINT drone as part of a family portrait…
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POINT stuff:
-There were six members of POINT before the Sandwich Incident, and LB was one of the original three, and seemed to function as co-leader alongside Foxtail.  There are six Boxbots, and Darrell was one of the original four, and kinda leads them in battle alongside Shannon, especially once he becomes CEO.
-And coincidentally, the original six members of POINT also share colors and in some cases roles with the Boxbots -- Shannon and Foxtail are orange, Greyman and Ernesto are purple, El-Bow and Jethro are blue, Rippy and Raymond are green, Silver Spark is...difficult but her hair is pretty distinctive and works with Mikayla for yellow, and of course, Darrell and Laser are red.  The robots' colors and relative ages even match POINT'S senior/junior members, with Greyman, Laser, and Foxtail representing three of the older Boxbots, and then Rippy, Silver Spark, and El-Bow representing the two newer ones and Jethro, who only recently was able to show his true personality/potential.
-"Junior Members" = "Junior Deputies"
-"Code Vermillion."  I made an entire post on this a while back, but to summarize, Vermillion is a bright, slightly orange-y red, and in most episodes is Darrell's exact color.  And Vermillion, as a red pigment, tends to darken over time into purple and black -- and SF and PV have connections to both glorbs (which Code Vermillion refers to), and to LB as well.
-Darrell has a bunch of weird similarities to Chip Damage as well, who is basically Laser's replacement at POINT, minus being the Charisma discipline rep:  Robots made right after LB got iced, green powers, special limited-edition costumes/POW cards, similar dark gray boots, the remote controls (Wisdom class blackboard for Darrell, Final Exams for Chip), possibly both made with actual brain tissue (The flashback to Chip's creation had a brain on one of Greyman's screens), etc.  Also, a dumb one, but...remember those Double-Dipped (KO and TKO?) Laser Chips (self-explanatory), that are "probably just a limited-edition" (Darrell).
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Other assorted weird things:
-Darrell’s laser eye attachment shown in Stop Attacking the Plaza -- still being worked on in the episode (and it looks like it has been for a while, since it had been some time since Boxman was in that specific lab...), but used by a Big Darrell in the opening, where it produces a very similar (green) copy of LB's beam.
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-Darrell is right-handed, in a left-handed family -- he's shown eating with his right hand in Stop Attacking the Plaza while everyone else is using their left, looks like he’s wielding a lightsaber right-handed in Plaza Film Festival, and draws with his right hand in Villains Night In.  Left-handedness is often associated with villains in fiction, so he may not be a full one?  (Definitely not as sinister as the rest of them, hehe.)  Though, some instances of Darrell using his left hand too, and other bots using their right, so I dunno how strong this particular point is.
-Line to keep an eye on:  "Just reboot yourself into a new body!  I do it all the time for funsies!" from Rad Likes Robots.  Related, Darrell reboots by exploding himself, which is how LB may have "died" and took on a new identity (if he's SF)
-Weird shit from Let's Not Be Skeletons:  Potato demonstrates a skeleton remote wearing a cowboy hat, and in addition to turning people into skeletons they remove powers, just like that red orb, and they also left Rad's and Enid's boots intact for some reason.  Darrell's also one of the biggest customers of the remotes, using his foes' weapons against them ("What do you say we snag more of them before they fall into the wrong hands?  We could even use them against our foes!")
-When we first saw TKO's power manifest in You're Level 100, it was while KO was trying to defeat a giant superpowered Darrell.  When we first saw TKO in physical form in Face Your Fears (as KO's "evil burp"), he was sent out to defeat a giant superpowered Laserblast head.  When we next saw TKO in, well, TKO (as his true self for the first time), he defeated another giant superpowered Darrell!
-Really dumb one, the letter right before C and D is B, so the acronyms LB and LCD may be a thing?
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Turbo/SF/TKO connections, just in case those turn out to be related to Laser as well:
(Under the cut, since this is long enough already!)
-SF hints that negative emotions, particularly anger, fuel Turbo powers.  Darrell has quite a few jealousy and anger issues in general -- "Gets flustered by petty insults," HATES new younger siblings (or existing siblings showing him up and getting more of dad’s attention), etc -- and seems to be way more capable of mayhem than usual when running on these emotions.  They even gave him the power to defy his programming and (attempt to) kill Boxman!
-He can also have his power boosted by a ton in a very short amount of time, from level -4 up (down?) to level -100 and able to destroy the plaza in one shot, and for as brief as that level -100 thing was he STILL has yet to be topped as the most powerful villain in the entire series!  But, Boxman doesn't do it often -- even regular Big Darrells are implied to NOT be that powerful normally.  Perhaps he's holding Darrell back for a reason?
-A lot of emphasis on his brain, similar to TKO: the visible brain is obvious, he has the most noticeable hivemind, and he pilots Big Darrells from inside their braincases similar to how KO and TKO controlled Big KO (even the name's similar!) in TKO's House
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-Also, he doesn't have to glitch or change colors with his mood like Shannon does, he can make decisions and go against his programming all on his own -- perhaps he runs mostly on that meat brain?  Or maybe his brain is actually a mass of pink glorbs like Jethro got in I Am Jethro that unlocked his intelligence and potential?  
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-SF's speech to KO in TKO: "Everyone holds you back because they're afraid of your raw, natural ability.  They want you small and nice, blissfully unaware of your true potential."  Darrell in Lord Cowboy Darrell:  "Nobody's gonna hold me back."  Shannon to Darrell in Plaza Film Festival:  "Where do you think you got all that natural talent?"
-TKO ultimately came out of wanting recognition from his boss.  LCD ultimately came out of wanting recognition from his boss.
-That VERY noticeable purple glow in the "I'm the Daddy now!" scene in Lord Cowboy Darrell.  Like, to the point it seemed specially painted for emphasis, rather than the normal animation.  
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-Also, Junior is pretty heavy evidence that Turbo powers do not necessarily = purple, as Junior's powers were all green (and so were Chip's Turbo-ish powerups!)  Darrell also has green powers (that even carried over to his human alternate in OK AU, despite Shannon and Raymond getting Enid’s and Rad’s exact same powers and colors), and is sometimes surrounded by Turbo-esque greenish lightning when he's angry, the best example being at the beginning of Legends of Mr Gar after being trash talked (remember that he can't take petty insults; he was PISSED there!)
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-(If it looks like I’m insinuating Darrell’s secretly got more power under the hood than even he realizes, I absolutely am.)
-Darrell still has his dark hooded cloak from the pilot, which looks a little like SF's.
-Darrell's the only one who wasn't invited to Junior's funeral, and doesn't give half a shit, instead using it as an opportunity to betray people and take on a new identity.  Possibly like LB faking his own death, therefore not attending his own funeral, and taking on a new identity as SF?
-Sneaking through the vents = sneaking through the pipes (SF, maybe how LB survived given that pipe in Let's Take a Moment)?
-Weird broken halo imagery shared between both Darrell and SF in TKO.  (Not my observation actually, pointed out by @david-yells-about-cartoons )  Darrell's cloud halo thing in that episode also looks almost exactly like the clouds swirling above KO as he shoots a power fist for the first time at the end of Let's Be Friends…
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Sol Invictus
Chapter Three: Escape From the Muninn
Blake didn’t know what she expected when she saw the Muninn from the viewing screen on the bridge of the shuttle as it traveled between the Red Claw and the Muninn. Maybe, she thought, the Muninn would be like the Union ships, haphazardly built with garishly painted markings from whatever world she had came from. 
Maybe the Muninn would be like the Atlassians: clean, hard lines; polished until they gleamed in the void, their overly pompous commanders’ House sigils proudly displayed on their bows, next to the sigil of the Protectorate. 
The Muninn, however, was none of those. 
She hung there like a shadow in the void, a black specter. No lights other than the brief flash of landing guides. The hard projected lines of her railguns could only be seen in the flashes of passing starlight, which made the Muninn all the more intimidating.
Knowing those guns were there, but only seeing them for small flashes in the darkness of the void. 
And inside that sleek shadow were dozens of pirates. Standing between her and a single Atlassian officer, who Blake had to rescue. 
Well… just my luck. Blake sighed, as she schooled her emotions, creating a mask of stoic indifference, even as worry and nerves plagued at her. She needed to be calm. She needed to be collected. 
“I can’t believe we are actually negotiating with these, humans,” the pilot, a tall Faunus with goat horns curling around his ears, bitterly grumbled from beneath his pale white Grimm Ursa mask. “We should wait for Brother-Commander Taurus Adam then take the ship and the prize for ourselves.” 
“And risk it being shot,” the co-pilot, flattening her feathered plum, shot back. “I agree with you brother. It is humiliating, but we have very few other options.” 
The pilot growled, but let the subject drop and soon the shuttle was drifting towards the hanger of the black ship. 
“Muninn. This is the shuttle of the Red Claw. May we land?” The co-pilot radioed. 
Several seconds passed. Blake forced down her panic, taking deep breaths. She would need to play her part flawlessly. Any hint that something was amiss, the pirates would stop the deal and her chance of avoiding war would have slipped through her fingers. 
Even if the pirates tried to run, Adam would be arriving with the frigate Wilt and several more Raiders, nearly two hundred more White Fang in total. Not even a pirate such as Raven Branwen would want to face against those numbers. 
And if Adam got a hold of the Schnee… Then war was inevitable. 
Menagerie wouldn’t survive against Atlas. Blake’s mood was turning dark just at the thought of it, and that was before Blake even considered what she had seen at the very edge of Wild Space.  
What she had seen of Adam’s newest ‘ally.’
She shuddered as though a cold wind had blown through the cockpit of the shuttle. No, Blake could not fail. She steeled her spine and donned the white Grimm mask that all White Fang wore. 
“No answer Sister-Lieutenant,” The co-pilot reported. “Should I hail them again?”
“Hail them again,” Blake ordered, “If they don’t answer… Well… Then we are going to board them.”
The pilot turned in seat. “There’s only six of us the shuttle…” 
Blake cut him off. 
“We have the Red Claw who will be able to fire on the Muninn and keep them off-balance, as well as the element of surprise. We’re not going to try and take the ship, just get the Schnee and get out.” Blake allowed a savage smile to cross her lips. “Are you telling me that the White Fang aren’t worth a dozen pirates each? They’re used to fighting against the unarmed, the weak and defenseless.”
Both the pilot and copilot barked a harsh laugh at that, though it was cut short as the comms buzzed. 
“Shuttle.” The voice was slightly distorted and crackled with static, but was clear enough. “This is the Muninn. You are allowed to land.”
“Finally,” the copilot scoffed as the pilot turned the shuttle towards the open hanger door.  
The shuttle landed with a heavy thud, the void door slamming shut behind them as the hangar was quickly repressurized.
Blake had taken five of her White Fang aboard the shuttle with her, leaving only a bare skeleton crew aboard the Red Claw and all of them, including the pilot and co-pilot, stood lined up at the ramp. Blake wanted to make an impression.
The ramp lowered with a hiss from the hydraulics as Blake stepped onto the armoured plated deck of the Muninn, her security following after, weapons low, but readied. 
Just in case.
Well, this is sure to build trust with our new partners, she pessimistically mulled as she entered the dimly lit hangar bay. There was no way in the Green Hell she was going anywhere aboard Branwen’s ship without some measure of protection. 
To do otherwise was just asking for a knife in the back from these voidscum.
Speaking of Branwen, the Dread Pirate-Queen had come down to meet her guests personally. 
Branwen was a tall woman, with dark, almost blood-red eyes and long black hair hanging down past her thin waist. She wore a short dark, crimson, almost blood red overcoat with a thin leather belt. Sheathed at her side was a short gladius sword. Perfectly suited for cutting and stabbing in an enclosed space.
And she had brought her own two tagalongs. Beside her was a short woman, her hair cropped close to her skull, with several tattoos and kill markings decorating her upper arms. The woman wore an arrogant smirk as she took in the sight of the White Fang. The woman’s arrogant, smug demeanor immediately invoked a healthy distaste in Blake.
The last, much to Blake’s surprise, was also a Faunus. A lizard? Maybe snake Faunus? Blake wasn’t exactly sure. The Faunus was almost the spitting image of Branwen, save for the scale ridges on her forehead, the slitted pupil lilac eyes and the long, lush, but wild blonde hair which also hung down past her waist. 
“Captain Branwen Raven Ist Muninn,” Blake greeted the Pirate Queen with a respectful nod of her head, as she and her White Fang escort approached the three other women. She hesitated, “It is… A pleasure to finally meet you.”
Branwen smiled a little at that and returned the nod. 
“Belladonna Blake I presume? You do not have to greet me like that. I’m just a pirate. We don’t tend to stand too much on ceremony.” Branwen was patronizingly polite. 
The smug woman seemed to muffle a chuckle at that, while the blonde Faunus rolled her eyes in obvious boredom. 
“I suppose you wish to see the prisoner? See that I’m not leading you on?”
Blake nodded. “I will need to send something back to my leader as proof. He will trust my word.”
Branwen raised a hand, indicating the blonde Faunus next to her. “Yang will take you to see her; however, I’m not going to allow more than one of you to leave this hanger. You must understand.”
Blake figured this was going to be an issue. Branwen was flexing; she wanted Blake and her White Fang escorted to understand who was in charge. Whose ship they were on. Which was fine, Blake had no desire to play the game of who was top dog.
Or top cat in Blake’s case. 
All Blake wanted to do was get the prisoner and get out. And hopefully stop a full out war from breaking out in the Galaxy. 
Simple desires really.
“That’s fine.” Blake shrugged, as she turned to Yang. “Lead the way,”
The Faunus woman hesitated for a second, as she seemed to wish to argue with Branwen but evidently decided it would have been a waste, as she gestured with a nod of her head for Blake to follow her.
The two travelled in relative silence for moments, through the narrow corridors, turning this way and that around the many sharp corners and turns. The Muninn, Blake, realised was not some repurposed freighter like Red Claw; she was a warship through and through. 
The corners made excellent defensive positions, funnelling boarders into kill zones, and they also had the added bonus of confusing the enemy as they made their way past the critical locations;  the engine room, the power generators, and the bridge. Blake considered herself to have a very good memory and an excellent sense of direction, but even she was having a difficult time remembering where they were going.
“How much longer?” Blake finally asked as she followed her guide down another short hall. 
“Soon.” Yang answered in a flat monotone, turning down another corner. 
“I didn’t know that Branwen had Faunus amongst her crew. What clan?” Blake asked her, curiosity finally getting the better of her.
"I’m not a Faunus,” Yang answered, voice dripping with bitterness without looking back. 
“You are not? But you look like one.” 
“Gene-tailoring.” Yang suddenly stopped and turned to face her, a sardonic smile on her lips, her hands waving in the air. “Vat edited and genefucked.”  
Blake felt her temper rise. “Gene tailoring? So what are we now? Just a cast-off? A fashion statement?”
“Leave it, White Fang,” Yang warned, her hands clenched into fists.
“Why? Angry that some Faunus is annoyed because you thought of us as some fetish you could imitate,” Blake snapped back. 
“Because it's none of your business. You really think I want to look like this?” There was a dull echoing thud, as Yang punched the armoured wall of the corridor. “Raven never really gave me much of a choice.  And guess what? It turns out, screwing with someone’s as an adult has some pretty significant side effects.”
Yang jabbed her finger at Blake’s chest. “So don’t talk about what you don’t know White Fang.”
Blake hesitated and then nodded, dropping the subject.
Yang held her stare for a second longer, before turning on her heel. “This way.”
Blake followed her through several more turns before the came to a door flanked by two pirates armed with heavy shotguns.
The blonde punched in a code and the door slid open with a hiss. 
Blake nearly gasped. Sitting there in her stained and tattered white uniform, was Weiss Schnee, The Heir Apparent of the Protectorate of Atlas. 
The Schnee looked up as the light poured in. Though Blake’s eyes were hidden beneath her small white Grimm Mask, the two locked eyes. The prisoner’s eyes were a pale ice blue, filled with defiance, with hints of fear around their edges… Those eyes were almost enough for Blake to feel pity for her. 
Almost. 
The Schnee was still an Atlassian. And the scars they had left on Menagerie and the Faunus still ran deep. 
No, Blake would not pity her. This wasn’t about pity. Or Atlas, or even completely about Menagerie. This was about the galaxy and the danger that was threatening to drown it in a tide of darkness. 
“Well, there you go. One Heir Apparent of blah-blah, caged up and ready to go.” Yang’s tone dripped sarcasm as she shut the door. “Satisfied?”
Blake nodded. “So your captain was telling the truth.”
“Raven never lies.” Yang was bitter as she led Blake back to the hanger. 
The trip back was just as disorienting as it had been on the way there.
Well… looks like I’m going to need the other White Fang. Blake silently cursed. She had been hoping for a quick infiltration and extraction. Now she was going to have to conduct a full boarding exercise with the five of her White Fang… Who she would then also have to get rid of.
Her plan was turning into a messy quagmire which she had little control over. True her original plan of infiltration did not offer a great deal more control. But it offered more than a running gunfight down those tight, maze-like corridors.
“Satisfied?” Branwen asked as Yang led Blake back into the hanger. 
“I will confirm with Brother-Commander Taurus Adam, that you have Weiss Schnee,” Blake said, giving her a nod. “However… I must insist that myself and the White Fang I have with me, remain on this ship.” 
“Not very trusting are you,” Branwen goaded, crossing her arms. 
“No more than you are,” Blake replied evenly, her eyes catching sight of a dozen well-armed pirates emerging from the gloom in the hangar.  “We will remain in our shuttle, until the rest of the White Fang arrive.” 
Branwen smiled a viper’s grin. “Of course you are. But I’m going to keep the hangar guarded. For your own safety. You are after all my guests.” 
Blake paused at that. Her stomach coiled. Raven had to suspected something. Had she seen through her already? 
Blake took a breath. She needed to keep cool. Keep calm. 
“Thank you Captain Branwen Raven Ist Muninn.” Blake bowed her head, inwardly cursing her rotten luck. 
----------
Ruby nearly jumped in surprise as the door banged opened and Yang stormed into the room. Her features were pulled into a thunderous scowl and Ruby could have sworn she could feel the heat of her rage radiating off her sister.
"Yang?"
“The White Fang is here, Rubes. You ready?” Yang asked after she had taken a moment to calm herself. 
Ruby glanced over at Crescent Rose now fully assembled. Several magazines, fully loaded, were laid out in neat order beside her precious rifle.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Ruby answered with a nod to her backpack by the door. Everything she had brought with her from the academy was packed away and ready to go. 
“Good.” Yang seemed to hesitate as she looked over at Crescent Rose. “Ruby…” 
Ruby smiled as she patted Yang’s shoulder. “Yang… I’ve travelled all over with dad on his old freighter. We lived on the edge of the frontier. I’m no stranger to gunfights. I can handle myself. I’m not a little girl anymore.” 
The: I don’t need you to look out for me like you used to, went unsaid; but Ruby could tell Yang had heard it as clear as a thunderclap. There was a brief flash of pain in Yang’s eyes, which much to Ruby’s joy, quickly turned into a burning sisterly pride.
“Alright then. Let’s go over your plan one last time,” Yang said as she took a seat on her cot. 
Ruby rolled her silver eyes but smiled. “Okay step one: Get the prisoner her weapons back. You will head down to the armoury, subdue the guard there, then come back here for me. Step two, we head down to the brig… fighting our way down there if we have to.” 
“Getting the weapons shouldn’t be much of a problem. Gris, the armourer, likes me. A lot. If I can, I’ll try and get the explosives too… though no promises. If I do, I’ll plant some charges throughout the ship,” Yang added.
Ruby nodded. “Step three, rescue the ‘princess’ and book it to the hanger. Step four, take care of the White Fang.” 
“That’s when I’ll detonate the explosives if we have ‘em,” Yang chimed in as she stood up and went to her locker, sliding several magazines for her pistol into belt. 
Ruby nodded again, “Step five, take the White Fang shuttle back to the White Fang ship.” 
“I’ve seen the readout on it. It looks like a small freighter. There shouldn’t be more than a dozen on her. Including the six on-board the Muninn right now,” Yang added, as she closed her now empty locker and slipped on her brown leather jacket.
“Which leads us to step six, we take the ship then Fold out of here,” Ruby finished as she picked up her loaded magazines and clipped them to her belt. “ You ready?” 
Yang looked over at her sister, then gave a single nod, before punching her fist together. “ Always. Let’s do this.” 
----------
The door to the armoury hissed open as Yang stepped inside. Rifles, shotguns, pistols and various blades decorated the inside of the locked cage. The smell of gun oil, the click of parts being taken apart, cleaned, then reassembled filled the still air. An older man, grey with age, heavyset, dressed in clothes stained with years of grease and cleaning lubes barely looked up to acknowledge her as Yang walked in. 
“Yang.” The man grunted before turning back to his work. 
“Hey Gris. You still got that Schnee’s weapon?” Yang asked as she approached the cage. 
The man gestured with a grunt and a sideways nod of his head to the far table. Laying there was the rapier with basket hilt. Beside it was a slim, beautifully decorated pistol still in its white leather holster.
“Beautiful isn’t she.” Gris said admiringly, as he picked up the rapier and held it up to the light. “Vinbranium micro woven with nerosteel. Strong, supple, light as a feather. But capable of piercing anything short of full Atlassian Marine boarding plate and shield.” 
Yang rolled her eyes, but kept quiet. She knew better than to interrupt Gris when it came to weapons. The old man could wax poetic for hours at a time, his eyes lighting up with pure joy as he rattled off calibres, stopping power, rates of fire, explosives, blade lengths, metal alloys and cutting potential. 
If his poetics were interrupted, the stubborn old man would become sour and ill-tempered, which would make it that much more difficult to get anything out of him. So even though Yang was now on a schedule, it was easier just to let him talk. 
“And this… Never in all my days did I think I would ever see one with my own eyes.”  He pulled the slim pistol from its holster. “An Arma Gigas. Handcrafted by the pinnacle of Atlassian gunsmiths. Small, you wouldn’t think this thing was more than an over-engineered pea-shooter. But let me tell you, if less than half of the things I have heard about these are true… This is a man stopper. Not a great many things alive this piece couldn’t put down.”  
Gris looked over at Yang and grinned at her bored expression; as he placed the pistol back into its holster. “I mean… Not as well as that cannon on your hip. But still she’ll do her job. And do it well.”
“Interesting and all.” Yang tried not to let urgency colour her tone, “but I’m not interested in a weapons lesson. I’m just here because I want them.” 
Gris eyed her carefully as he leaned back. “Is that so? Well… I’m sorry to tell you that Vernal already claimed the rapier. The pistol is going to Raven. She wants it as a trophy."
"Well… I don't really care. I want them." Yang lowered her tone to a near whisper. Gris was probably the only friend Yang had on this ship, outside of her sister. She hoped he would catch her meaning.
"Vernal wanted the pistol too. Before Raven claimed it as a trophy.”  Gris continued as though he hadn’t heard her, “Wanted it bad. Lucky for her I was here to set her straight. You see the Arma Gigas are gene-coded for the one she’s made for. If anyone else then the Schnee was to pull the trigger… well… they would have to get used to wiping their ass with the other hand.” 
“Gris…” Yang warned, her temper slowly getting the better of her. “I need those weapons.” 
Gris eyed her dispassionately. “And I can’t allow you to take them.” 
“You aren’t going to be able to stop me.” 
The man shrugged. “You can’t shoot me. If you do, everyone is going to know about it.” 
Yang’s eyes widened as she caught his meaning. “So I am going to have to hit you. Put you down hard.” 
“Probably break a few bones in the process.” Gris agreed. 
“I… I’m sorry Gris.”
“Tear the cage door open when you do it,” he continued as though he hadn’t heard her. Shuffling tools around, placing them almost delicately back into the various toolboxes stacked around the armoury cage. “You’re more than strong enough.”
He paused, looked up at Yang. “Your sister... always gave me the creeps… Something’s not right about her, be careful. I’m sticking my head out for you with the Captain. I won't be around to help with her.” 
“Ruby’s all I got left Gris.” Yang almost snarled, but managed to choke it back. “I burned too many bridges back home… And I’m nuking the ones here with an orbital strike.” 
Yang reached up and grabbed the cage door, then ripped it from its hinges in one savage pull.
She looked down at Gris as he turned his back on her. “I’m sorry about this… I really am.” 
Then Yang threw a haymaker into the side of his head. Gris did not even try to defend himself, merely curling up into a ball, as Yang rained heavy blows into his body. 
-----
Bile rose up in Yang’s throat as she and Ruby raced down the claustrophobic corridor. She tried to drive the feeling of her fists smashing into a defenseless Gris, of bones snapping and the muffled screams of pain from her mind. 
Gris was tough. He would be okay, she told herself; as the two sisters with Yang in the lead, charged down another hallway.
She began to slow down. They had been lucky so far, the two of them managing to avoid wandering pirates, but now they were coming up onto the brig. There would be guards and they were going to have to be dealt with. 
As soon as Ruby or Yang fired, the ship would be alerted that something was happening in the lower decks. Yang guessed they would have only have a couple of minutes before Raven sent every pirate she could down there. 
Probably less. 
Raven was a suspicious woman. She’d probably think the White Fang was going to make a play of their own. 
Getting to the hangar… That was going to be the interesting part. 
Yang came to a stop, just before the corner to the brig. Ruby almost slammed into Yang as she too skidded to a halt, pressing her back against the wall. 
“Alright… Just around here is the brig. Should only be two guards.” Yang whispered as she pulled Ember Celica from her holster. “I’ll move first to draw their fire. You cover me, got it?” 
“Got it,” Ruby whispered back, as she brought Crescent Rose to a ready position, then tapped Yang on the shoulder to let her know she was ready.
Yang turned the corner, levelling her pistol as she did. The two guards looked up, eyes widening in surprise as they did. Ember Celica roared once, catching the first in the chest with a large, heavy slug. 
The man’s chest exploded open, dropping to the ground in a wet splatter of meat and viscera. The second guard was fumbling to raise his shotgun when a three-round burst from Ruby, who must have stepped out with her, caught him the chest. 
The guard collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut. 
“Thought I said I would move first?” Yang asked as the two rushed to the door. 
“You also said to cover you,” Ruby replied sweetly as she kicked the shotguns away from the guards’ bodies. 
“Fair,” Yang grinned, as the door to the brig opened shedding light into the dark prison. 
The Schnee glanced up as the light stung her eyes. Yang was already moving and with a powerful tug, she ripped the bars from the cell. 
“Well… as promised here we are. Ruby give the Heir her weapons,” Yang said as she took cover inside the door. “Sorry princess we got to move, and move quick. Think you can keep up?” 
“I can handle myself,” The Schnee snapped.
Yang risked a glance back, frowning slightly as the Schnee flinched when Ruby offered her the rapier and pistol, slapping Ruby’s hand away as she climbed to her feet. 
Ruby for her part seemed unaffected by the rude gesture and merely shrugged.
“Alright we ready?” Ruby asked as she took cover across from Yang. 
“Yeah…” Yang nodded, as she gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile. 
The Schnee glared at Ruby as she tested the draw in her rapier. “Who are you?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ruby apologised, as she held out her hand again. “I’m Ruby Rose. I’m here to rescue you.” 
The Schnee looked down at the hand and shuddered slightly as though someone had offered something rather unrecognizable and offensive on a stick. Yang frowned and was about to reprimand the Schnee, when she caught Ruby’s eye and gentle shake of her head. 
Time and place, Yang. 
“Ahhh no worries.” Ruby giggled, “not everyone has an appreciation for the classics.”
Yang snorted. “You mean ancient vids that no one understands anymore.”
Ruby nodded as she led the way out of the brig. “That too.” 
----------  
“What is that?” One of the White Fang asked as klaxon alarms began to blast throughout the hanger.
A second later Blake’s sensitive ears picked up another sound. One she had sadly become very accustomed to over the past few years. 
Gunfire.
“Someone’s shooting,” Blake answered as she grabbed her weapons from the locker. “Quick, get your weapons and get to cover. The pirates might think it’s us behind this and I don’t want unwelcome visitors thinking they can come and take our shuttle.” 
While the other White Fang got to cover in the hold, Blake took a chance and ducked out from the shuttle. Keeping down and to the shadows, she made her way behind a large stack of crates. 
She took a peek and cursed.
A dozen or so heavily armed pirates had gathered in the hangar, in preparation to storm and take the shuttle.   
Suddenly the shipped bucked. The power died and red lights flashed as emergency lighting and secondary power sources came alive. The pirates scattered for the most part. Running to their station, to bring systems back online, preparing for what could be a boarding action. 
And in doing so, only leaving a token force to watch the hanger and the White Fang.
If they do that could work out in my favour. Blake thought to herself as she kept herself low and made her way back to the shuttle hold. We kill enough of them here, we could make a break for the Schnee’s cell.
“Lights went out. What’s happening?” One of her Sister’s whispered from across the hold. 
“Maybe Brother-Commander Taurus has arrived? Maybe he is leading a boarding party.” 
Blake didn’t think so. 
“Brother-Commander Taurus would have told me if he was planning something like this.” Blake whispered back, “now keep quiet and-” 
The sound of gunfire outside interpreted Blake and the next thing she heard was booted feet running across the armoured decking of the black ship.
“Quick, let’s move. Come on princess keep up!” Someone loud and boisterous called. 
Blake thought she recognised the voice of that not-Faunus vat freak, Tang, or Jang, whatever her name was, as she stormed up the shuttle ramp.
Behind her, two other pairs of feet followed close behind as three humans charged into the hold. One of whom was the Heir Apparent. 
Blake leapt up, pistol levelled. Her five kin joining her. The three intruders, the blonde not-Faunus, a small brunette with red highlights and a long scarlet cape and of course, Weiss Schnee, the Heir Apparent, were surrounded and outgunned.
“Well… Shit.” The blonde grimaced as the three humans found themselves surrounded. 
“Wonderful, from pirates to White Fang all in the span of less than ten minutes.” The Schnee complained as her pistol bounced from kin to kin. “Great job.” 
“I should thank you for bringing us Weiss Schnee.” Blake smiled coldly beneath her mask as she stepped from cover. “You have done the White Fang a great service.”
Then she turned on her heel, levelling her pistol at one of her Brothers. The pistol barked, striking the White Fang in the head, sending him crashing down. 
The White Fang sat there, stunned, as they struggled to process what had happened. Blake gunned down another, then another. 
The three humans, not looking a gift horse in its mouth, raised their own weapons. In less than five seconds, all the White Fang lay dead, and three armed women were now pointing their weapons at Blake. 
Blake shook her head. Taking off her mask she allowed amber eyes to meet silver, lilac and ice blue. “We don’t have time. Assuming you are responsible for those explosions, it won't take them long to get the ship back up to full power.”
“She’s right.” The silver-eyed girl with the red cape spoke up. Blake felt herself shivering uncomfortably as the girl got closer. There was something… off about the girl. Something Blake could not put a finger on.
Just a general feeling of offness.
"What do you suggest then?" The girl asked, lowering her rifle.
Blake shook off the feeling. "You were going to try and take Red Claw weren't you?"
All three nodded.
"Let me join you." Blake pushed, "you can tell them you took me hostage. There’s only four of them on board. We can take them, then escape.”
“Why should we trust you?” The Schnee interrupted. “You just murdered your friends, Faunus. Why?” 
“We don’t have time for this.” Blake snapped back. “Either trust me or don’t. But I can help you.”
The Schnee opened her mouth to interject but was cut off by red cape.
“She’s right. We don’t have a choice. I can fly us.”
“Well… That went simpler than planned.” The blonde grinned cheekily as she pushed passed her to join the red-caped girl in the cockpit, leaving Blake alone with the Schnee. 
“I don’t know what your plan is White Fang. But for now, it doesn’t matter. I will be watching you though.” The Schnee hissed as she went to join her allies.
The shuttle roared to life. A second later, the hanger boomed as the small railguns underneath it blasted open the void doors, shredding them like paper before the engines ignited and the shuttle blasted out into the void. 
----------
Ruby grimaced as the last of the remaining White Fang was nearly blasted apart by a close-range shot from Yang’s pistol. It hadn’t taken much to get them to cooperate. The cat Faunus had told the truth., They now had a ship, courtesy of the White Fang. 
Ruby ran to the cockpit and jumped into the pilot’s seat… And then froze. 
She had never seen anything like this before. The shuttle was simple enough. Though somewhat unfamiliar, the controls were simple enough to figure out. These… These were a mess.
“What’s wrong Ruby?” Yang asked as she jumped into the co-pilot chair beside her. 
Ruby looked up, panic welling in her chest. “Uhhh… Well… I think I found the flaw in our plan. I’m not entirely sure on how to fly this thing.”
“What!” the white-haired girl screeched behind them. “You can’t fly this?” 
“I didn’t say that!” Ruby shot back defensively. “I said I’m not entirely sure on how to. I thought that after flying my dad’s old freighter and the fighter sims at the academy that this piece of junk would be similar, but…” 
“My Gods… I’m going to die here,” Ms. Schnee loudly whispered to herself as she collapsed into another chair. “I’m going to die being blown to bits because some frontier bumpkin thought too much of herself.”
“Hey!”
“I don’t want to interrupt,” the Faunus called out. “But the Muninn is coming around on us. I got energy signatures spiking. She’s readying her main guns.”
“Aw...Fucking Void…”  Yang snapped. “Where are the shields on this thing?”
Yang fumbled with several switches. While Ruby frantically pushed several more, suddenly the ship shook, tossing the four around as the Red Claw buckled from a heavy hit. 
“Muninn just hit us!” The Faunus girl called from a screen in front of her. “Port side aft.” 
“Never mind the shields, Yang. Just punch in the Fold coordinates!” Ruby yelled as she grabbed the control stick and opened the accelerator.
The White Fang ship hummed as the engines roared into life. The Red Claw took off, but the Muninn followed close behind.
“Muninn steadily gaining. Energy spiking. She’s going to fire,” The Faunus girl reported, fear slowly growing more apparent in her voice. 
The Red Claw shook violently again. The four women could hear the hull twisting and groaning as the shot sheared the armoured plating. 
“Grazing shot. Top deck. Port side.”
The ship shook again with another devastating blow. “Direct hit. Port side. Aft.” 
Ruby’s eyes went wide as she realised what that meant. “They’re aiming for the Fold drive. Yang! We need those coordinates now!” 
“I’m trying, I’m trying!” Yang yelled back, “I need some time!” 
“We don’t have time you blonde brute!” Ms. Schnee snarled, “White Fang, does this ship have a torpedo?” 
Behind Ruby the cat Faunus looked up from her screen and nodded. “Several but only one loaded in a tube.”
“Dolt!” Ms. Schnee kicked Ruby’s chair to indicate that she was talking to her. “Get some distance, then bring us around. I was top in my torpedo class. I can hit Muninn.”
Ruby shook her head. “Muninn’s too fast. We won’t get enough space. Besides one torpedo? It would get picked off by the point defence before it came within a hundred kilometres... But we can buy us some time.” 
She pulled the stick hard and Red Claw turned. Right into the teeth of Muninn. “Ms. Schnee get ready.”
“We’re little more than a dozen kilometres. It’s too short for an effective torpedo shot.” Ms. Schee snapped. 
“We don’t need an effective shot. All we need is the radiation blindness.” Ruby shot back.
The Schnee paused. Then grinned. “A good plan. The name is Weiss by the way.”   
“Ruby… But I already told you that…” Ruby grinned back, as she pushed Red Claw into her attack run.    
Radiation blindness could happen rather often in space. It was when a burst of radiation hit your ship’s sensors; which would cause them to malfunction for a brief periods of time, leaving nothing but static and white noise on the viewing screens. It was something that could happen a number of ways: a bad solar wind, a nebula, a passing bit of space junk. 
Or in the case of the Muninn when a fifty kiloton nuclear warhead got swatted out of space by numerous point defence weapons. Then detonated less than a few kilometres in front of your ship.
The effect would be like a flash-bang going off in a small room, as opposed to a steady degradation of system at war with constant reboots and scrubs. The sensors of Muninn would be flooded by dirty, polluted light and a backwash of harsh radiation, rendering her blind for several precious seconds.   
The Red Claw did not escape through the maneuver unscathed, however. One last shot smashed into her prow; the spine of the ship rocked and cracked. Sparks jumped, fires were started and Ruby knew that the last shot had been a near fatal one. But they had blasted through and the Muninn was still blind.
“Yang! Please tell me you got something,” Ruby pleaded as the precious seconds her maneuver had bought them were spent. 
“Yeah! Got it! Were good now! Ready to Fold on your mark!”
Ruby looked down at her watch. “All aboard Air Ruby. Folding in three, two, one. Mark.”
Space, time, gravity. Billions upon billions of kilometres were pulled into a singularity of space and time. Red Claw shot forward, bearing her precious cargo. 
They were safe. 
For now.
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beowulfs-booty-call · 5 years
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Can yall imagine the skullgirls crew at the Met Gala like:
Parasoul: Dresses the part, but goes ham on the Annie, girl of the stars cosplay. Always on standby with security. "Take the shot." Is her go to on the red carpet.
Eliza: "Why, yes! I AM rich." She comes in with many men hoisting her up as a goddess must be worshipped. Blood fashion is all the rage in 2019, it's a flowing piece with a chunk on the right side being open to show Sekhmet's ribs and "organs" but critics believe that her dress (which is carried by Albus and Horace) is modeled as a take on the human anatomy.
Squigly: Goes to town with her makeup so she comes off as a very well illustrious Gemini, with one side as her red and white striped dress, the other as a black and white Tux with Leviathan wearing a top hat and a bow tie.
Filia: Samson whips his tendrils into the longest winding braid that she can then whip with an audible crackle, she wears a modified version of her school outfit, the only difference is she tie-dyed it and added bedazzle gems everywhere.
Peacock: Expert mode, she shows up in a eye straining Lisa Frank version of her regular outfit but drilled extra Argus Eyes onto the dress. Avery helped staple gun it.
Ms. Fortune & Robo Fortune: Robo Fortune dresses in an aqua matador outfit, carrying Ms. Fortune's head while holding her body connected by a leash.
Big Band: He finally can go out as himself, trading in his coat for a cropped petticoat that emphasises his Saxploitation
Carol: Summer dress with the smile emojis everywhere and holes to stick out her arms, under said dress is her school uniform. She's holding a mask of the real Carol's face over her PainWheel mask. Her "Carol" mask however has many "blinking" eyes that open and close on their own.
Valentine: Val dresses up in pink "pajamas" that are as fuzzy as fuzzy dice. Revealing as youd think, she carries a pocketbook that's basically her medical kit and her nurse hat is topped off by the mink boa that's connected to a candy skull she bites into on the carpet.
Beowulf: Goes either 2 ways; He doesn't get the memo and doesn't know what camp means so he goes in as an ACTUAL camp instructor and doesnt understand the buzz while stuffing his mouth with free cheese and hordorves OR he comes in with a tattered and ripped suit and fur sprouting everywhere along with his wolf hood to make the "Hungry like a wolf" puns.
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