#but of course the dude with the metal bucket hat and the dude with the metallic leather jackets are related

[xmcu-fietro]

I’m kind of impressed with the fact that Peter broke into the freakin’ pentagon wearing the LEAST discrete outfit you’ve ever seen. In the previous scene he had a black, non-reflective jacket and he made the choice to show up to break someone out of one of the highest security prisons in the US looking like a foil-wrapped chipotle burrito. Not a single inch of that outfit was remotely stealthy and I really respect that.

[watchmebackflip75]

How to Train Your Wizard

Maybe I wrote a RED SHOES story involving a Viking. No it’s not those dragon riding Vikings. 

xx

SourceURL:https://archiveofourown.org/works/25142545        How to Train Your Wizard - BleedingHeart911 - Red Shoes and the 7 Dwarfs (2019) [Archive of Our Own]    

… The mermaids of the beach found the tourist humans too odd by a starfish-half. Giant umbrella over their fully clothed bodies; these landmaids were in the wrong climate. The strange landfolk separated from nature further by sitting in lounging chairs as if the boulders in the ocean weren’t cool enough.

“Gotta love that sun.” Snow White said under her sunhat. In one hand she fanned her soft chin, in the other her fingers laced in her boyfriend’s hand.

“Yes, and this fresh sea breeze.” Merlin said dozily, his eyelids closing under his sun-obstacles. He snapped his long fingers and a candle enchanted with bug-repellent burned green and smelled like a sunflower. They sighed in unison, their cares slipping away.

The cawing of seagulls became the yelps of scared mermaids. Snow and Merlin open a single eye each to see a wooden dragon raging towards the shoreline.

“Who would think building a giant dragon puppet easier than taking the beast as a pet?” Merlin asked as he dropped his lite beach-rob. He flipped through the spell-cards in his belt-satchel.

“Sweetie, that’s a Viking’s ship. You might want to pull out a big zapper.” Snow said as she closed their umbrella. Merlin had his magic, she had the strength to stab and whack. They sped-walked to the gentle waves, weapons in hand but allowing the strangers to arrive.

“Never fought a Viking before. Heard they’re like minotaur-pirates without dental plans.” Merlin said, watching the huge sails.

“That’s the stereotype. It’s not untrue but I’ve known some exceptions.” Snow said as the boat pushed into the sand.

Merlin smirked, he thought about asking if his princess had known a lot of disgusting pirates growing up in the sheltered ballrooms. He didn’t ask since the horned, hairy, man-like fiends jumped onto the beach, shaking the earth.  

The hairy beasts groaned in warning, weapons in hand though they stood in wait. A huge, maybe seven-foot-tall, yellow-haired beast jumped off the side. His smell made Merlin’s stomach turn.

“I’m going to hit him with a soap-spell first.” Merlin said as he raised a spell-card.

Snow grabbed his hand, “Wait a minute. Brutechel?”

Under the unruly hair and horned-helmet Merlin saw bright blue eyes and the scruffy stubble of a young man’s sickly smile.

“Snow! You’re alright!” The Viking exclaimed, swinging his mallets over his head.

Snow laughed and ran into Brutechel’s hug. The Viking’s thick muscles had no problem raising Snow off her feet in a twirl. The sight disgusted Merlin; he felt a flicker of lightning trickle up his thin arms.

Brutechel placed Snow back on the sand and held her fair little hands in his hammy ham-hands.

“I wanted to come sooner- when I heard about your step-mother –“

“It’s fine, we’re fine. You had your reasons for not-“

“No, my chief hid your letters. He had- I had no idea… You must have thought I was the most selfish son of troll.” Brutechel said with regret.

“Never.” Snow’s big brown eyes looked up at the young man two-heads taller than she.

Brutechel sighed deeply with tears of joy. “Thank Odin you’re alright.”

“Yes, she is.” Merlin stated loudly, stepping to Snow’s side. He put an arm around her possessively and said, “Hi, I’m the hero who saved the White Castle, among others. Merlin, leader of the Fearless Seven, I’m sure you heard of us.”

“Thought you guys were a democracy.” Snow said, dropping her hands from Brutechel’s grip.

“When my quick thinking and skill can’t find an advantage, yes we can be.” Merlin amended.

“Oh, yeah I have heard the F Seven. Thought they died a year ago?” Brutechel said, eyeing the overly-groomed fishbone holding Snow.

“Sabbatical.” Snow shrugged slightly annoyed with Merlin’s bragging, “So yeah, Brutechel this is Merlin, Merlin this is my dear old…. Brutechel.”

Both boys heard her take a beat to avoid using ‘old/ ex boyfriend’.

“Uh-huh.” Brutechel said, folding his ox-like muscles across his chest.

“Yep.” Merlin said with a pop of his lips.

Snow groaned through a smile and pushed Merlin’s hand off her shoulder. “Bea, tell me you didn’t come all this way just for me and my problems.”

“I would’ve crossed any seas if I thought you were in danger.” Brutechel said gently.

Merlin tried to say something but Snow spoke over him with, “Then the least we can do is invite you to dinner.”

“I’d be honored, Snow Bunny.” Brutechel said, barely moving his eyes from Snow, “That alright with you, chum?”

“Of course, and allow me to cook for you, bud.” Merlin said with a very fake smile.

“I’ll bring something over, that fine with you, Murray?” Brutechel said unamused.

“Don’t go out of your way, Brutus, any allergies I should know about?” Merlin asked stepping closer.

“Nope, but I don’t eat meat or dairy, dude.” The Viking said, crouching over string-bean.

“You’re a Vegan Viking, lad?” Merlin asked, noticing a few teeth were metal and gold.

“You bet your pointy hat, pal.” Brutechel said, wondering when non-Viking men started wearing perfume.

Merlin held back a flicker of lightning in his palm, “We’ll keep that in mind, and don’t trouble yourself with dessert. I know a guy.”

“I know a guy, too.” Brutechel said, curling and uncurling his fist.

“Oh boy,” Snow said drily, she clapped her hands, “You guys, hey.”

They both stared at her, their postures aligned to pounce.

“How about we all agree to meet at the castle around sunset? That good for you, Brutechel?”

The smelly oaf softened, “Oh course, Bunny, I look forward to tonight.”

“Me too.” Snow said sweetly as she grabbed Merlin’s arm, “Let’s go get ready.”

“Of course, my darling.” Merlin said, looping his arm around Snow’s elbow. “Now don’t you pillage when we turn our backs.”

Snow pinched his arm and they waved to the Vikings to Brutechel’s horde. The couple noticed some had buckets of popcorn. The Vikings waived back in a friendly manner.

On Risky Rock, Arthur’s laugh dug so deep the side of his dwarf-green abbs began to ache.

“Pure barry,” Merlin’s oldest friend said while beating the table. “Snow use to date a Viking? One of those lugs would use you like a toothpick. This has to be killing you, Merlin!” “Shut up, Arthur.” Merlin said while pouting in his chair at their oval table.

“Poor Merlin, the cute cure to your curse came with some burly baggage.” Jack said, also still green, small and polishing his nails to a shine. Pino, Noki and Kio stated different similes for Jack’s alliteration.

“I really can’t see how a girl as lovely and demur as Snow would ever even think of going near one of those filthy vandals.” Merlin said, relieved he could complain far from his girlfriend’s ears.

“Ah, la vache, you would’ve said the same thing about your squat little self when she met you.” Jack countered. Arthur was still chortlings, rolling on the floor.

Merlin rolled his eyes, “I really doubt there’s anything hidden in that bear. But it is so like her to take a stray home and try to bathe it.”

“I’ve tried to do the same thing will all of you.” Jack stated, causing Hans’ brow to wrinkle in confusion. The ginger chef came out with meatless stroganoff in a glass dish with painted candies dancing around the sides.

“Here, Merlin, I replaced the beef with tofu.” Hans said. He liked trying an old dish with a new twist.

“Right, I’ll return it tomorrow.” Merlin said, he wondered if he poisoned the tofu would it hurt Hans’ feelings. After he closed the door his friends hovered at the oval table.

“We’re going to that dinner, right?” Hans asked in the huddle.

“Affirmative.” Pino said cheerfully.

“You got that right.” Said Niko.

“Let’s bring a boardgame.” Kio said.

In the White Castle the princess set the table. The incident of her step-mother, may she rest in peace, turning her entire court and staff into trees made rehiring very difficult. Princess Snow didn’t mind setting the table, it reminded her of childhood tea parties. The memories of the princess guests judging her when she ate a cookie or scone wasn’t so nice. Snow accepted the past, forgave the foolish, remembered how Princess Katherine got kicked by a unicorn for being too boney and looked forward to her future.

“Have you thought about hiring elves? I hear they’re inexpensive.” Merlin said as he folded the napkins into swans.

“I sent notice, and I offered to pay them above the average non-human rate. Did you know Elves can catch all the same diseases we can and still don’t get health insurance?” Snow said, lighting candles.

“Shame. But they should be grateful at least one saintly princess cares.” Merlin said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it.

“Aww. Oh, thanks for getting Hans’ dish.” Snow said, raising the lid to see the home-rolled pasta Hans made. He rolled two different colored pastas to look like a candy cane swirl.

“Gladly. Do something for me, darling?” Merlin asked with a handsome smile.

“What’s that?”

“Cancel on Brute-a-chelli and enjoy a private dinner with me?”

“Merlin.” Snow said in a balanced tone.

“Whhhhhy are you making me hang out with the man who’s obviously still in love with you? How do you think that makes me feel??” Merlin whined.

Snow put a hand to her hip and raised her fingers as she made these points; “Okay, One; he’s not still in love with me, two: he’s a great guy I think you’d like after you get to know him, three: because I want to remain friends with Brutechel he needs to see the wonderful man I’ve chosen.”

The doubt that any man would be evolved enough to see his former love happy with a new beau ran deep in Merlin. He carefully considered choosing his words so he could squash her hopes in the most respectful route.

Snow placed her hands on his chest. “How about this? You really try to be nice tonight and after I’ll show you the flexible Valkyrie dress in my closet.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow, “Bribe accepted.”

Brutechel brought a salad in what looked like a giant yak skull. Merlin didn’t like pesto but he generously complimented the inscriptions carved in the bone-bowl. Brutechel the Kittenish was an animal lover. He had a zoo of pets on his ship and more at home; all rescues. At age six he tamed a sabertooth tiger and dedicated the rest of his life to respecting and caring for beasts found during sailing by the family business. Officially the ‘family business’ was exclusive pottery and dishes from ‘recycled’ materials. The wizard found the doe-eyed Viking simple and boring. Merlin became less jealous the more Brutechel droned on about different feeding tests. To his joy he noticed Snow was only polite with the guest, she appreciated the kindness but was only just not asleep in her goblet.

“Oh look, the bottle’s getting low. Excuse me, I’ll grab a refill. Any preference?” Merlin merrily asked.

Brutechel took the last glup of his goblet. “More of this, please.”

“Yes, thank you.” Snow said, her porcelain cheeks a light pink.

Brutechel watched the skinny snob leave the room. He searched for his courage and gazed at the glorious queen before him.

“So how’s your cousin with the pegle-“

“Bunny, I love you!” Brutechel admitted, his eyes wide with seriousness.

A lump formed in Snow’s throat. “What?”

“I am crazy about you, so how about we leave and talk about the rest of our lives for the rest of our lives?” Brutechel said, leaned him large hands over to hold her.

Snow gently whacked them with her soup spoon. “Brutechel, no! How can you say that to me with my boyfriend around?”

“He’s not around now. And Bunny, come on, he can’t protect you from bears.” Brutechel said, surprised she wasn’t thanking him for the out from the malnourished lizard.

“Why do you always bring it back to bears?” Snow winced and raised her hands, “No, I am not engaging in this conversation again. I say no, Bea.”

“But he’s so…. Shrimpy!”

“He’s also kind and clever and cute in all the ways and I choose him.” Snow said, putting a hand over her heart.

Brutechel felt his heart drop. He looked over Snow’s shoulder to see the smug sorcerer dancing and meeting his eyes with a poking tongue.

“I’m not sorry, I love Merlin.” Snow continued, not aware in the slightest the Merlin was making insulting gestures of victory to the denied suitor.

“You sure about that?” Brutechel asked, growing agitated at the arrogant snake’s dance.

“Yes.” Snow said with resound certainty, “I love him with all my heart.”

Brutechel groaned, “I want you to be happy, Snow White. I should go.”

“I do want you to be happy too, Bea.” Snow said, she felt pity that such a kind soul hadn’t found his right person yet.

The Viking slung his bear-skin over his shoulder and said not to worry about returning the skull-bowl.

Slipping back to the pantry Merlin soundlessly stomped the floor in glee. He picked a random wine bottle, did a twirl, and swung his arms without shame. He had no idea the Dwarf Six were watching him under Jack’s invisibility cloak. He muffled their laughter and followed the goofy friend to the dinning hall entrance. Merlin exhaled his delight and put on a façade of indifference when he approached Snow.

“Here we are, darling. How’s your goblet, Brutty? Oh my goodness, where did he go?” Merlin asked in phony surprise.

“He said he had to turn in for an early sail.” Snow fibbed, her face a little slumped.

“I see. Oh, dear. I’m sorry you’re disappointed.” Merlin wasn’t completely fibbing.

“It's how it goes.” Snow said as he kissed the top of her head.

“It’s getting late, we can raincheck the skimpy outfit you promised me.” Merlin said, he was already happy with the night so he could extend the excitement.

“Really? Honestly yeah, I’m not feeling it right now.” Snow said, placing her napkin on her plate. “I’ll clean up if you get the pillows cleared off.”

“I’ll clean, you get the cuddle chamber ready.” Merlin said as he took Hans’ dishware to the kitchen. Placing the dish in soapy water Merlin caught his reflection in a shiny tea pot.

“Hello gorgeous,” Merlin said to himself, “The smelly beast is gone and now Snow can get Merlin’d happily.”

Lightly parting his hair Merlin noticed a figure on the slant of the teapot. Instinct had him swiftly crouch down and miss the blow of the sink-size mallet. Merlin jumped up to see Hans’ dishware was intact, good, and he slapped a spell-card on the assailant behind him. The man was four times thicker so there was plenty of target. Merlin slide to the side and clapped his hands for a blast of lightning.

Brutechel blew the smoke from the burnt spot on his pec. The blast stung like a bee.

“Okay, let’s talk about this.” Brutechel offered, he felt a bad sport to attack such a soft puncher.

“Oh lets.” Merlin raised more spells in his fingers, “You got dumped, I make Snow happier,”

The wizard said this as they walked around a kitchen island. “Brute, chum, you can leave with a smidgen of dignity and I can be alone with the woman I adore. Or I zap you until your thick skull is a soup bowl”

Brutechel scoffed as they circled the steak knife set.

“You have tricks up your sleeve where Snow lays out her heart. My Bunny doesn’t need that.” Brutechel said as he threw a ladle at the wizard’s head.

Merlin dodged the ladle and threw a lightning bolt at the Viking's face. The stubble wouldn’t kindle but the ungroomed eyebrows burned clean off. Brutechel grabbed the saucepan and swung it in his palm.

“From what I heard you haven’t a clue what she needs.” Merlin said, he held up his arms so her magic could block the blows. “And you are the worst listener!”

Braced for another punch Merlin felt winded when nothing met his sizzling force fields. He lowered his guard to see Brutechel kneeled on the floor, hands down at his side.

“Go ahead, demon-whisperer, take me out so my Bunny can live in peace.” Brutechel said sadly, offering his thick neck open to a strike.

“Oh get up. As much as I loathe hearing you call my love ‘Bunny’,” Merlin rolled his eyes and shook with revulsion, “it’s no sport to disfigure a martyr.”

Brutechel nodded at the reasoning. He stood up, a head taller than Merlin, and wiped his hands, “If I ever hear you hurt her, I will use your straw arms for oyster forks.”

“Sure. Want a meal for the road, er, sea?” Merlin offered, he pointed to the pantry of fresh vegetables.

“Oh come on!” An oh too familiar voice bellowed from the shadows. Merlin groaned with annoyance while the spooked Brutechel searched for the demon source. Arthur threw off the cloak and slapped Merlin’s thigh.

“Mate, if you don’t defend Snow-belle’s honor I will disown!” The cursed prince said.

“Demon!” Brutechel yelled, grabbing his mallet and aiming to smash the little green monster. The mini monster caught the mallet’s face and pulled it from the Viking’s hand.

“No, I wouldn’t do it right. You can go right ahead.” Merlin said flatly, the two lug-heads were already crashing and destroying the royal kitchen.

The rest of the group sat on the kitchen island, eating the leftovers. One of the triplets shook a dice inside a cup.

“Hey.” Jack nonchalantly said, signaling they would clean up before the sun rose.

“Hey yourself.” Merlin waved in a quiet thanks to his friends. He rolled his neck and walked to Snow’s bedroom.

A lit candle was left on her nightstand. Snow faced away from the glow as she slept. In the pajamas that matched hers Merlin slid between the sheets. He pulled her head under his chin and lightly ran his fingers over her skin.

“You took a while. I should’ve helped washed.” Snow yawned against his neck.

“You're fine, darling. You're perfect.” Merlin quietly told her, he snapped his finger and the flame sparked away.

[razorblade180]

Lasting Embers pt16: Flowers of the sand

[Atlas military airship]

*tap tap tap tap tap tap tap......*

Illia:*Flying the ship*.............

*tap tap tap ta-*

Illia:Sienna if you don’t sit still right I swear.....

Sienna:*stops tapping her chain on the metal wall* S...sorry ma’am..... *ears fold down, puts her hands in her lap*

Illia:Sigh, thank you. *focuses on the radar*

*creeeeaaaaaakkkkk!*

Sienna:........*fidgeting in her seat*

Illia:Sienna!!!

Sienna:Can you blame me!!!? I’m currently sitting in airship hoping that somehow we’ll make it back home before I find my home up in flames by crazy cult leaders. Who have a head start on us by the way!

Illia:Relax, we’re flying the personal airship of the Schnee family. There’s no aircraft that can fly faster.

Sienna:Yet it’s still gonna take hours to get home. *slouching in her seat*

Illia:Hmph, if I didn’t know any better I’d think that you believe your foster mom couldn’t handle a few lowlives.

Sienna:Just because she’s a maiden doesn’t make her invincible. Besides, odds are she won’t be the only one fighting...

Illia:Jael will be fine; I mean she’s 15 and pretty talented. I’ve seen her keep you on your toes and you’re six years older than her.

Sienna:*mumbles* excuse me for not having a semblance or anything. I’d be amazing too if I could do the things she does.

Illia:*pokes her side* Stop moping, you are amazing too. You are our youngest Sinister Shadow to be recruited after all; also I can I think I’m pretty and I don’t have a semblance.

Sienna:*small smile* Thank you ma’am. It’s just not all cult members are exactly normal. *gestures to her eyes and hands* and they’re in menagerie of places.

Illia:*watching the sunset* We should be there a little after dark and hopefully they’ll be in the desert at the end of dusk. Grimm tend to get more rambunctious at night; I don’t they can control them if this is just some splinter group.

Sienna:That’s a dangerous assumption....

Illia:I know...*biting her lip* we’ll just have to cross our fingers for the time being; and hope if someone encounters them that they know where to stab.

Sienna:Sigh.....*crossing her fingers* hell of a first mission. (Please let it end on a high note)

[Desert Oasis]

*Jael wearing a black kimono with a dark red sash that matches her long hair. An ice box on her left while a fishing pole and tackle box are on her right*

Jacquelyn:Awww I haven’t seen you wear that in awhile. You look lovely.

Jael:*tying her shoes* I got a feeling your opinion might be little biased.

Jacquelyn:Maybe a tiny bit; I guess you’re going into town?

Jael:I gotta return the fishing gear to Deloris. Not to mention *shakes a pill bottle with one capsule rattling inside* refill.....

Jacquelyn:That prescription seemed like it didn’t last as long. You sure you’re okay; maybe we should up the dosage or-

Jael:*standing up* Mom.....I’m fine, honest. I got a little more worked up this month more than usual is all.

Jacquelyn:.....*rubs her child’s slightly pale face, robbed of its usual peach color from the sun* Maybe I should tag along; you know how the grimm out here love digging tunnels.

Jael:Hmph, I think the white fangs and I have finally realized the pecking order around here. I’ll be back before it gets too late.

*walking out the door with the fishing pole and a bucket hat for her horns; ice and tackle box float behind her*

Jacquelyn:If you happen to see Blake then thank for the clothes she gave you.

Jael:I know, I know. Don’t wait up for me. *closes the door*

Jacquelyn:Pfft, like that’s gonna happen. *looks to her left* Oh geez....

*opens the door*

Jacquelyn:Aren’t you forgetting something!?

Jael:*turns around* Hmm? Oh yeah....

Jacquelyn:*Tossing her a katana and sheath similar to her father’s

*both items slow down mid air and float down to her side*

Jael:Thanks mom *bows slightly and continues walking*

Jacquelyn:*shaking her head* (Hopefully she won’t need it, but better safe then sorry)

[Desert, about an hour into the walk]

Jael:*watching the sunset completely* (Beautiful as usual. I wonder if sis is watching right now) *looks down to see the lively sea port as usual*

*festival lanterns and people filling the streets ahead*

Jael:Guess another festival is happening. Wish I could-

*a small sand mound circling around her*

Jael:Ah, I was wondering when you would show up. *grabs a giant catfish from the ice box*

*A dingo like grimm Jumps our the sand. One eye missing and battle scars on the bone platting around it’s face*

Jael:What brings you around here Alpha? Can’t be me; I’m in a good mood for once...

Alpha:*snarling and bearing its fangs*

Jael:Apparently you are not though. Don’t let it be the reason you don’t make it back to your pack though; sit...

Alpha:*sits like a proper dog, yet still snarls*

Jael:*tosses him the fish that promptly gets eaten* your table manners are about the same. *slowly reaches under his chin to rub it*

Alpha:*snarls calm down a little*

Jael:Good boy, now get out of here before someone finds another reason to avoid me.

Alpha: *points his nose back towards the desert, west of her house. Snarls intensify before diving back into the sand*

Jael:.......*looking in that direction* what has you riled up? Maybe I should-

*pill bottle floats in her face*

Jael:Sigh *grabs it* first things first, meds. *continues her walk*

[Faunus Pharmacy]

Jael:*walks in taking off her hat* Deloris I’m here with your stuff. You in here or do I have to talk with your parents? Please don’t let me have to speak to your parents. *walking down an isle* Dory, you in he-

*A young woman with tough pale blue skin and gills on her neck, face down on the counter sleeping. A life gaurd whistle next to her*

Jael:*Walks up shaking her head* And they say sharks don’t sleep.....Dory wake up, you have a customer. *shaking her*

Dory:Zzzzzzz

Jael:Unbelievable......you asked for this. *grabs the whistle.*

*a small purple orb forming near the mouth piece as she takes a deep breath*

Jael:(A one and a two and a-) *a hand covers her mouth immediately* ........

Dory:*raising her head to reveal sleepy gray eyes* Last time you did that I heard ringing for a week. Why night scream like a normal person?

Jael:Have enough energy to work two jobs. *smiles* good to see you as always.

Dory:Of course it is; you look nice by the way. Showing off your curves I see; I thought you’d be wearing- of course....

Jael:*opens the kimono slightly to reveal Blake’s old V1 clothes* What? They’re comfy and form fitting.

Dory:That top is telling a different story. Looks a size too small; you sure you’re part goat and not cow?

Jael:*red* I should hit you in your nose.

Dory:You want your hand that close to my teeth?

Jael:You mean your baby shark teeth that you still have? Yes

Dory:*snorts* Screw you dude. Hmmm? *spotting gossiping customers*

Jael:*turns around to see them flinch a little and promptly leave*........where they staring at me?

Dory:I mean.....yeah probably. Don’t let it get to you.

Jael:Whatever....*puts on her hat again*

Dory:There’s no way they know about, you know *makes horns with her fingers* I mean besides my parents and I, civilians aren’t allowed to know.

Jael:You’re right but when you live apart from everyone and a few higher up don’t like because they know, rumors run rapid. *clenching her sleeve*

Dory:At least you have the Belladonnas, Mr. Wukong and couple others watching over you.

Jael:I don’t care about being watched if no one is going to listen. What I want is....*takes a breath*......it doesn’t matter.

Dory:......So, any reason you’re here? Don’t get wrong it’s nice to see you, but it’s kinda late.

Jael:.....*points to the floating items around her* you’re joking right? Your fishing gear; also I need my pills.

Dory:Shut up I’m half asleep. You think you put the pole back on the wrack like gravity intended to before you started messing with it. *search for pills*

Jael:*putting it away* You’re just jealous that messing with gravity is cooler than breathing underwater.

Dory:Say that when you’re stranded at sea. I have looked through the F section three times now and can’t find your pills.

Jael:*whispering* Taurus......

Dory:Duh...sorry about that. *tosses her a new bottle* I’m surprised you’re already out; everything okay?

Jael:It will be *taking the final pill from the last bottle* now I can probably sprint home if I wanted.

Dory:Let’s not increase your heart rate for no reason okay?

Jael:Eh, if I’m gonna be a huntress then I gotta test me limits right. *walking away* Later, there’s fish for you in the ice box.

Dory:*opens it to see several huge bass* You’re worth your weight in gold Jael.

Jael:You calling me fat? I’m keeping your whistle by the way. *holding it*

Dory:You can keep the tackle box too; dad won’t notice one missing.

Jael:Cool *grabbing it* night Dory...

Dory:You should invite me fishing sometime. I’d love to see your home.

Jael:You’d eat all the fish off the line.

Dory:*watching her walk away* I’d be trying to eat something alright....

Jael:*blushing* Night Dory!!!! *leaves*

Dory:Hehe (she so wants me)

Jael:(I swear, talks about staying calm one minute and tries getting me worked up the next. Maybe she’s the one who needs meds)

*moon completely out*

Jael:Already this dark huh? Guess I should head back. But first.....*walks in the direction the Alpha pointed to* let’s see what got the old fur ball so grumpy.

•

*Three people roaming the desert in gray cloaks the one on the left a slim frame with gloves on his hands marked with an H. The right one marked with an C and has black veins on her arms; while the middle one was blessed with solid frame as black veins crawl up his arm and pulse around his eyes. The letter M on his hood*

H:How much longer are we gonna trudge in the sand!? My feet feel like they’re getting burned to the bone.

C:Stop your bitching and keeping walking. If it was easy to travel in the desert then it would be a poor hiding spot. Besides *snaps his fingers*

*several wild grimm pop out of the sand, including alpha*

M:It’s why we have scouts to take care of the heavy lifting. Find me the maiden... *eyes glow read*

Alpha:*remains still while the others reluctantly move slowly*

C:Did you not hear us you mutts? *eyes and hand glow* he said-

“Yeah they don’t take orders well...”

HCM:*look ahead*

Jael:*standing on a sand dune* They take orders from the Alpha and he only responds to strongest authority around. Well, or fish.

H:...I’m sorry, who the hell are you? *juggling two machetes*

Jael:Well from the looks of it*pats her life*

Alpha:*backing up to her side while the others remain*

Jael:Apparently I’m the strongest one here.

M:Is that so? *folding his arms* very amusing. A young woman in the wilderness alone that’s so strong a grimm dares not risk harming. I can only think of one person who can be that peculiar. Tell me.....are you the winter maiden?

*moonlight illuminating the vast terrain, shifting sands from a calm wind blows constantly*

Jael:.....In the flesh

M:If that’s the case, die........

[destroyyourbinder]

rethinking butch while doing my laundry in buckets at 8 PM

You know, I never thought there would be anything on this earth that could make me re-think my commitment to pants over skirts and dresses, a vow I had made to myself over and over again since my childhood days of being crammed into tights and lace, but doing my laundry in a series of five gallon buckets in the bathtub of our dingy apartment was it.

I was thinking yesterday, while staring into our shared closet and remembering when I had a purple closet full of clothes that I had to tug at, clothes that I tried to ignore that they existed even when I was wearing them, that I probably haven't worn a skirt outside of a Halloween costume in almost fifteen years. When I moved out of my parents' house I ditched my last one, a vintage skirt that had always stayed on its hanger, part of a pair with a yellow blazer that I had loved but didn't fit anymore. I felt vindicated, but a bit lost, as if a high school presentation was going to leap out of the void at any time and make me regret my decision. I didn't bring any skirts with me here, to the city; it felt daring and somehow pathetic at the same time, a sign of how stunted my life had been that it seemed like a bold move at all. It was a tiny hop into the deep end of a lesbian kiddie pool. Skirts do lurk around the corner at any old thrift store, but somehow I felt like there was no going back; I had banished them, and they would not return.

My girlfriend and I share most of our clothes, as we're close in size-- she's a bit broader, I'm a bit taller-- and our clothing tastes are pretty similar. She has her favorites, and I have mine, and we don't tend to share pants or shoes due to the particulars of how we wear them out, but the rest are a big indeterminately owned mass of potential dress options. The thing is is that she's supposed to be a "man"; she still lives a life where she doesn't tell people she's detransitioned, generally, and most people take her to be outright male or a trans man. I'm not supposed to be a man; I don't pass except maybe from afar and behind, and I assume I mostly come across as tired and dumpy and gay. I don't really know if people notice that our shirts and shorts and socks swap between and across us. Maybe they're too confused by the other things going on with us to see that one. When we worked together doing early morning stocking we used to fuck with people, we'd switch our jackets and hats every so often and see who we could fool, which was way too many people at way too close a range for a pair of human beings supposed to be at the opposite poles of Gender. Nobody was particularly apologetic about it either when they mistook us, even though that kind of outright misgendering is supposed to be a major faux pas. They usually just laughed in a way that indicated that, well, of course. I laugh in the same way when people tell me that Trans Men are Men, that everyone treats them just like any other male person, that nobody knows they aren't male, that they never experienced sexism and never will, that the gap between them and A Woman is incomprehensibly large. A waiter's never handed me the check at the diner when I was out with a dude, but they do it all the time when I'm with my girlfriend, and then she has to use the men's room after dinner.

I've somehow gotten more "masculine" since I stopped seeing myself as transgender, which I think might surprise people who know nothing about the process of desisting or reidentifying or detransition, but doesn't surprise women who have been through this. I feel a lot less neurotic about wearing men's clothes, about buzzing my hair off, about being hairy elsewhere and not hiding it, about stepping out into the world as an unacceptable female person, uncontained and unbridled, edging in on men's turf. The stakes aren't quite as high, now, honestly, even though they're higher than they have been before. I don't have my family to fall back on if I lose my job due to being an unrepentant dyke, but now that I'm not in her house, I don't worry about my mother discovering my secrets, including that I'm not the daughter she wanted me to be. I'm scared to go out after 7 PM if I can't sufficiently cover up the fact that I'm female, but my entire sense of self worth isn't riding on whether or not someone perceives my ham-handed attempts at not-being-female correctly. I worry about my rent, but I don't worry about where exactly it is men pull up their socks to on their legs, and I don't worry about whether I'm not really worthy of living if I can't do it right, because I don't worry about if I'm not really a man or just a fuck-up of a woman, and I don't worry about whether or not a fuck-up of a woman is the worst thing I could possibly be. Well, I worry about it sometimes, still, because it matters to other people, even if I don't think it matters to me. But I've stopped trying to compensate for my fuck-ups by wearing the right earrings with my undercut, or hiding my breasts under a binder, hidden under a blouse. I can leave the house without having twenty thousand insecurities about the masculinity or femininity of my leg hair growth pattern or the color-contrast of my lips. So I leave the house in shit my nine year old self would probably appreciate: a flannel, a shirt with a cat on it, yellow pants with functioning pockets. I try to take stupid thoughts about whether the pocket style of said pants makes my butt look girly the same way I took my skirts, which is to chuck them out in honor of living a life without gender neuroses.

They always say that gender is culturally contextual, limited to time and place, and while we all pay lip service to that in some way or another when we get mad that our favorite historical figure got parsed as one thing or another, I think we all like to think we would be butch lesbians or trans men or whatever it is we are in another life, that we probably wouldn't have ended up like our great-grandmothers but something like female husbands, passing soldiers and sailors, instead. I spent a lot of time as a kid wondering why the hell girls did this or that, wasn't it harder, it's so stupid; I felt so betrayed when I hit middle school, and everyone was tripping over their purses, pursed lips in candy-sparkle lipgloss, on the way to idolize boys. I wanted to be among boys, I wanted to be a boy, somehow at the same time I thought girls were stupid for admiring them in the other way. I think a lot of us carry this into adulthood; we figure femininity's a bunch of dumb crap we can't be bothered to do, and besides we're unsuited for it, constitutionally incapable of hoisting a tube of fabric above our pooch. We escaped from it because we kept our heads (non) straight or maybe because it wicked off us like pink droplets on a Teflon pan, which we definitely use to make burgers with and not cute hors d’oeuvres. We know what a dress means and how it works, and we know how it makes us feel, and we know we would never wear it, not on a desert island nor to our sister's wedding.

After washing my clothes in a bucket, I don't think you should do disservice to your grandmothers like that. I had to sit on one of my other buckets-- there are three in this clothes washing system-- and think for a bit about what the hell I was doing with all this gender and anti-gender shit, what the fuck I was doing with my life at all. Because the thought I had, which surprised me, was that pants are fucking bullshit. They're fucking bullshit when you wash your clothes by hand, which is what generations of women did before me. My value system got turned upside down; I spent my whole life thinking skirts and dresses were frilly nonsense, floofery intended to hold women back from participating in the world, an "easy access" hole to parts I didn't want to exist. And it's not like that isn't true: women's dresses and skirts have been artificially cumbersome throughout history, full of engineered contraptions to enhance women's decorative-sexual living-pornography value, whether literally stuffed with metal cages and yards of fluff or whether tightly drafted to form a second skin. When you can't fucking sit down or lift your legs or bend over it's a problem, when your teeth chatter in the winter on your way to school it's a problem, when you can't be a lawyer or a senator without wearing the appropriate kind of Leg Tube it's a problem. It was a problem when my mom put me in a velvet thing that rested just above my knees, and I wasn't allowed to play or even spread my legs while I was in it, lest I render myself an obscene five year old girl. But the Leg Tube isn't the problem, it's all the other shit, and I had never taken that seriously, never really dug into it, until I had to confront the inconvenience of manually sloshing around my pants for ten minutes.

I had confused symbolism for reality. I thought I was done with that, over that, now that I was out of the trans shit. I was living in some patriarchal dollhouse, and I had thought I busted out, but now I'm in another one, better maybe, but just as artificial, because the grass being greener over here all hinged on having a washing machine. When do I get to leave? I am suddenly afraid I'll spend my life in an infinite nested universe of misogynist fuckery, having existential crises about the fridge or maybe the carpet next.

I guess my girlfriend and I got into what you might call "urban homesteading" by accident. We didn't set out to do this out of convictions or philosophy, it was mostly because we were cheap, and also we're lazy in a certain kind of baffling ADHD way where it's easier to make a curtain with your two damn hands than navigate thirty, fifty pages of advertising-merchandising to find one that will ship to your house for not-sixteen-dollars . Car insurance in this town is absurd, so we just don't have a vehicle. We also don't turn on the heat in the winter, or the air conditioning in the summer. We bake bread, make yogurt, make shampoo, wash out and reuse plastic zipper bags, don't flush the toilet for stretches of time. Clothes get patches upon patches, breadcrumbs go in a jar, there are lots of systems for a lot of things that nobody really thinks about anymore. My dad told me his family used to sleep on the porch of their farmhouse in the summer; I can't do that here, but it comes to mind anyway. He was from that kind of people where you did it yourself or you didn't do it at all, German farm folk born in nineteen-oh-something; my mom was from people that didn't do it at all, her father too drunk to give a shit, her mother feeding her seven kids out of cans. There's a weird mix of shame and pride when you end up doing your laundry in buckets, dual gene lines, dual angel-devils sitting on my shoulders: someone clapping me on the back for my resourcefulness, a job well done, and someone asking me why the hell I stooped to this when there's a washer in the basement, didn't I work hard so you didn't have to live this way.

We saw it on YouTube and thought we could save some money on electricity or water because our landlord isn't going to replace our 30-plus years old washing machine anytime soon. I thought maybe doing it in the buckets would help my busted brain a little, 'cause I could do it every couple days, fifteen minutes at a time, instead of in big piles once a week. I like shit I can touch or otherwise it doesn't feel real, I can't keep track of it, it feels like the sort of work women with tight lips and long nails do and they make their lips tighter when I can’t hack it. There could be a system, tangible, clothes I can see in places where they belong, hands on a plunger pushing soap and water and fabric up and down, you can tell if they got clean yet or not if you open the lid. I don't like dumping them in a machine, an unknown hole of productivity, input-output, assembly line nonsense. I'm not productive anyway, so what do I care?

When you're doing your laundry by hand like this something occurs to you, which is that this is a lot of work, and maybe you don't want to be doing this all the time, so you should be careful with how dirty your clothes get. I realized real quick I wasn't going to be doing this every day, and that it would be wasteful, worse than the water usage of some old-ass washer to try. You start realizing how dumb it is to wear your clothes once and only once before you wash them, as you plunge up and down, up and down. It occurs to you that ten minutes is a pretty long amount of time, even though you're in your late twenties and winter just showed up again and you keep wondering where the hell the time goes anymore. You start resenting how stupid and arbitrary it is that you're supposed to be squeaky clean in public, that stains and wear are unacceptable, that they mean anything at all about anybody except that they live a life and entropy exists. You think that if you have to put this much arm power into washing your clothes, then how much power has to go into a damn washer, and you start thinking about the arms that shovel coal out of the ground, into rail-cars, into boilers. You start getting real mad about how much shit the world puts people through just so clothes can get clean and floors can get clean and skin can get clean and nothing will look like it's ever been touched except by a very conscientious housewife. Your brain starts contriving things while your arms are going, like some wild-haired inventor, like maybe if you had an underlayer of clothing all the time you could just wash that and the outer layer would be allowed to get dirty for a while. Brilliant! And then you feel stupid because well, that's what we always did until you could dump your shit into an electric machine, and then they raised the standards to keep women busy doing something they didn't need to do. It occurs to you that pants are dumb because they're heavy and sopping wet, one big lump of fabric, and you can't wear an underlayer unless it's really cold outside. It occurs to you that pants are not worth it unless you are doing certain kinds of manual labor all the time or you need to protect your legs. You understand why the women in YouTube videos about washing your clothes in buckets are really mad at their husbands and sons, and some generational rage takes hold of your arms as you agitate the clothes in the bucket. Why do men get to be dirty in their stupid pants. Why do women have to clean them. You never want to hear anybody talk about fashion ever again. You never want to hear anybody talk about the gender of clothes again unless they've wrung out denim in anger and they're willing to wring a man's neck the same. Now you get to drain the bucket. Now you get to refill the bucket with clean water and agitate again. Now you get to drain the bucket and press the water out of your clothes with the full bucket. Now you get to hang up your clothes over your tub.

When I stopped seeing myself as transgender I told myself I would consider very carefully the value of anything I did, and I would let practicality and ethics dictate my life rather than sucking up to gender, to men, to the women pandering to them and afraid I wasn't going to. It's taken me some wild places, for real, and I didn't think it would take me to a place where I was questioning wearing pants. But given this, I find myself all the same cringing at wearing a skirt or something else other than those damn pants, other than the thing that men wear and women fought for, willing to violate my newfound guiding forces... and for what? Butch cred? Womanly pride? Can't I just shove it all in the washing machine and stop thinking about this? Do I need to live in the woods to tie something around my waist and get on with my life? If I've learned anything there's really nothing neutral when it comes to gender shit, and no matter how far you get in processing the patriarchy there's always something else at the bottom of a bucket, a broom, a sink strainer. How many years worth of women have had these thoughts while scrubbing something, however they cut their fucking hair? I try to focus more on that these days, rather than what I call myself or what pronoun I use. My grandmother, my mother, all those girls in my class who I thought were big idiots, the women out there bigger and badder and butcher than me, the trans men I envied for living in my dream world, all these female people I defined myself against all these years, we all end up here, staring into a drain, hoping the man won't crush us. When does it end? I want it to end. I'm done spinning my head in circles about the cut of my jeans, whether I wear jeans at all, and I hope you are too.

[meteoratdusk-blog]

RvB Bingo Wars: Fluff entry

Title: Many Happy Returns

Summary: Carolina thinks she’s going to a meeting, but the Reds and Blues have a surprise for her instead.

Word Count: 1.4k

Notes: this is a happy one, I promise.  Warnings for mentions of past child neglect. Someone has probably done something like this before, but if they have I can’t for the life of me remember it, so here we are.  Also, I hope this makes up a little for the terrible angst in my last entry.

Many Happy Returns 

Carolina walked through the headquarters of the United Armies of Chorus and wondered at the quiet.  The armies were still on rocky territory, having been united for barely two weeks and only making the move to joint headquarters in the past few days.  It wasn’t at all uncommon to find soldiers skirmishing in the hallways, or arguing loudly down the corridors, but she didn’t hear anything as she made her way towards her afternoon strategy meeting, and she wondered if everyone was still in shock from the pirates’ last attack.

Or maybe the quiet was just in her own head. Early that morning Caboose had come by and “kidnapped” Epsilon.  She hadn’t been able to make any sense of what he wanted Church for, just something about Blue Team’s best tradition. Strangely, after he said it Epsilon had gone with him with surprisingly few complaints. Maybe he still felt a little bad about ditching his friends at the crash site, or maybe he had just wanted to get away for a while.  Either way, the world was a much quieter place without his constant sarcastic commentary.

Carolina suppressed a small smile as she finally made it to the meeting room and opened the door.

The room was empty.  Carolina frowned.

“Wash,” she called out on their shared channel, a relic from Freelancer but still useful for private communications as long as they didn’t think too hard about the ghosts on the line.  “Did this afternoon’s strategy meeting get moved?”

“Uh… yes,” Wash replied after an oddly long pause. “Auditorium Two.  Sorry, we forgot to tell you—how did we forget to tell you—”

“Auditorium Two?” she asked, changing direction.  “Any particular reason?”

“We needed the space,” Wash answered.  “There’s… well, a few more people got invited.”

“To the strategy meeting?”

“Yeah, um, it’s—Caboose!  Not yet, if you set it on fire—”

Wash cut out.

Carolina picked up her pace.

The door to Auditorium Two wasn’t burning when she got there, so that was one for Wash’s newfound talent as a babysitter, she guessed.  There was an awful lot of whispering going on inside, though, not quite audible and abruptly stopping as soon as she opened the door.

Carolina stared.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGENT CAROLINA!” Caboose shouted, and threw a handful of confetti into the air.  She watched it flutter to the ground, and half the occupants of the room appeared to be holding their breath.

“Birthday,” she said.  “It’s not my birthday.”

They breathed out.

“Yeah, we know,” Tucker said, and she could hear him rolling his eyes.

If they knew it wasn’t her birthday they didn’t seem to care.  The large room was bedecked with handmade streamers, paper chains made with red and blue links.  Someone had scrounged up actual party hats and done an impressive job of tying one to Caboose’s helmet and, yes, she noticed, to Freckles as well, the paper cone resting at a jaunty angle on the gun’s barrel. The table at the front of the room had been draped with a festive tablecloth. On top of it was a white upside down bucket with what looked like signal flares taped to the top, their fuses still unlit.  The Reds had congregated nearby, Donut busy making another paper chain.  Above the whole arrangement was a banner that read “Happy Birthday!” written meticulously in what looked like pink glitter pen.

Tucker, Caboose, and the generals Kimball and Doyle were standing directly in front of the door.  On the other side of the room stood Dr. Grey and Wash, the former Freelancer leaning against the wall, his shoulders shaking.

Carolina read the banner again, just to make sure she wasn’t seeing things.

“Would someone care to explain?” she said flatly.

“Ah.  Yes, you see,” Doyle cleared his throat, and then launched into what sounded like a speech. “In light of the way you have helped shaped the course of history on our beleaguered planet, we agreed,” he glanced at Kimball as though the very idea was unprecedented, “to hold, in your honor, a small service, which has… err, that is, what we had intended—”

“We were planning to hold a ceremony to formally thank you—all of you,” Kimball interrupted, her tone frustrated and puzzled but the faintest bit fond, “for what you’ve done for Chorus.  Then the word ‘party’ started getting thrown around and… I’m honestly not quite sure what happened after that.”

“Caboose happened,” Tucker snorted.

“And Church helped!” Caboose said happily.

Epsilon flickered into view by Caboose’s shoulder.

“I don’t know if helped is really the right word,” he murmured, not quite looking at Carolina.

“Yeah, it really isn’t,” Tucker complained.  “See, when people started talking about parties Caboose remembered that we haven’t thrown you a birthday party yet, even though we’ve known you for like, two years.  We tried to tell him that it wasn’t your birthday, but then this asshole wouldn’t tell us when your birthday actually was, so it’s not like we could prove Caboose wrong.”

Church still wouldn’t look at her, and Carolina wondered if he was thinking about birthdays and silence, if he remembered late nights at an empty table, a slice of half frozen store-bought cake without a single candle, and the sound of typing filtering in from the hallway.

“Dirty Blues, keepin’ secrets,” Sarge muttered loudly, and Carolina turned to him, glad for the distraction.

“And the Reds are here because…?”

“Can’t go letting the Blues have secret meetings without us, missy!” Sarge said as though it were obvious.  “They’re already withholding information, who knows what dastardly plans they’re cooking up!”

“Speak for yourself, old man,” Grif said.  “I was told there would be cake, and I want to lodge a complaint with the caterers.”

“Cake?” Simmons scoffed.  “Seriously? We don’t have the rations for cake, you know that.”

“Yeah but there isn’t even a crappy substitute for cake,” Grif whined.  “All we have is a decorated bucket. There aren’t even any cookies!”

“That’s because you ate all the cookies two weeks ago!”

“I don’t know, I could probably scrounge up something for a cake,” Donut mused. “Does anyone know where they keep the baby oil?”

“Jesus,” Simmons groaned.

The Reds devolved into bickering and speculation on baking materials, and Carolina glanced at the next person in the room.  Dr. Grey cocked her head to one side.

“I’m just here in case of party casualties!” she said cheerfully, and Carolina decided maybe it was better not to ask.

She turned to look at Wash.

He shrugged.

“This is… a thing they do,” he said, his voice rueful and tinged with an exasperated affection that seemed to be reserved for the soldiers in red and blue.  “Probably better just to go with it.”

“Yeah, you don’t really get much choice,” Tucker chimed in, “not unless you want to give us the real date, which I’m guessing you don’t because of dramatic Freelancer secrecy bullshit.  So I hope you like your new birthday, because this is going to be it from now on.”

“And it is going to be the best birthday ever!” Caboose cheered.

“Caboose, you say that every time we throw a party.”

“Well, it’s always true!”

“Dude, the very first birthday party we gave you ended with a metal table on fire,” Tucker said, and then the Blues were off bickering as well.

Except for one.

Epsilon looked at Carolina for a moment and then his projection blinked out again, jumping from Caboose’s armor to—not to her armor storage but to her implants, something he rarely did without good reason.

>Happy birthday, C, he said, and she could feel him there, at the back of her neck, a warmth that flickered like candlelight.

Carolina hadn’t had much reason to celebrate her birthday for a very long time. Still, she looked at the gathered Reds and Blues, all arguing over the smallest things, at the confused generals, the cheerful doctor, and at the relaxed line of Wash’s shoulders.  The old day didn’t mean much to her anymore, she thought.

Maybe she could do with a new one.

Carolina smiled.

“Thanks,” she said, and it was almost drowned out by the sound of her new family arguing over whether or not they had to sing.

[spicynbachili1]

Dark Souls characters, ranked

The misplaced souls of Lordran

To play Darkish Souls is to hunt victory in a land outlined by failure. Lordran, the sport’s fictional kingdom, is dying. The once-great gods have deserted their bastions, fleeing a world in determined want of a savior. Each crumbling metropolis stands as a tragic reminder of what may have been; echoes of progress all however forgotten. A plague of undeath curses those that stay, lowering their existence to a cycle of dying, rebirth, and slowly hollowing souls. Everybody who travels to Lordran is doomed to fulfill a merciless destiny, however that does not cease individuals from making an attempt.

Darkish Souls has a surprisingly deep forged. They seem to be a unhappy lot. Every character gamers encounter is dying, damaged, or within the midst of a disaster. However regardless of the dire circumstances of their existence, these wayward adventurers are brimming with character. They’re warriors, healers, and students — individuals who can be destined for greatness in another kingdom. In Lordran, nonetheless, they’re doomed. Via a mixture of indirect storytelling and nihilistic inevitability, Darkish Souls‘ characters are among the many most fascinating NPCs in latest reminiscence.

It is excessive time somebody ranked them.

61. Petrus of Thorolund: 

Petrus ruins what’s in any other case one of the crucial memorable moments in Darkish Souls. After escaping the Undead Asylum and arriving at Firelink Shrine within the claws of an enormous crow, the Chosen Undead’s first steps on Lordran soil are tentative and stuffed with thriller. This can be a land of unknowns, a spot that the gods have forgotten. However all that magic and momentum is ruined when gamers inevitably stumble upon Petrus of Thorolund, a dopey cleric with what is sort of probably essentially the most punchable face in online game historical past. Something appears doable in Lordran, however Petrus’ pageboy haircut is just too terrible to imagine. 

60. Kingseeker Frampt:

This serpentine noodle is essential to Darkish Souls‘ story. He is additionally an abomination. Destructoid’s Co-Editor-in-Chief Jordan Devore summed up Frampt’s existence eloquently: 

Some monstrosities are higher left loud night breathing for all eternity.

59. Pinwheel:

Pinwheel capabilities extra as a cautionary story than the rest. Pinwheel is arguably the best boss in Darkish Souls, greatest seen as a hollowed husk extra desirous about researching necromancy than fight. The masks that adorn its face — a Father, Mom, and Youngster — indicate a merciless destiny involves those that search energy. 

58. Vince of Thorolund: 

One other cleric, one other ugly mug. It’s protected to imagine that there are not any respectable barbers in Thorolund. 

57. Nico of Thorolund: 

Nico’s solely redeeming high quality is that his helmet obscures what’s undoubtedly one other atrocious hairdo. He and Vince appear to be shut; perhaps they discovered love in Lordran. 

56. Rhea of Thorolund: 

There’s tragedy on the coronary heart of Rhea’s story, however her best crime is associating with the Thorolund goof troop.

55. Rickert of Vinheim:

Most of Lordran’s blacksmiths are nice. Rickert, nonetheless, sucks. He’s content material to be locked up for an eternity, and that’s effective as a result of he is totally ineffective.

54. Griggs of Vinheim: 

Griggs is boring. He’s outclassed by his mentor in each conceivable manner, from spell choice to hat dimension.

53. Paladin Leeroy:

This man is so near greatness. His huge hammer, Grant, is an intimidating weapon and his Sanctus protect appears to be like rad. However the truth that he’s a strolling Leeroy Jenkins reference kills his placement on the record.

52. Darkstalker Kaathe:

Darkstalker Kaathe is the inverse of Kingseeker Frampt, which is superb. However the truth that Kaathe and Frampt are probably two serpents sharing the identical physique means this slippery dude sort of sucks too. 

51. Eingyi:

Eingyi is an egg-bearing chump who’s blissful to serve one in every of Darkish Souls‘ most beloved characters. He’d place greater if he weren’t so gross trying.

50. Prince Ricard:

There are a handful of Darkish Souls characters outlined solely by their mediocrity. Ricard is one in every of them, an undead noble whose deft rapier stabs are finally forgettable.

49. Seath the Scaleless:

Controversial opinion: Seath sucks, appears to be like dumb, and is an entire and utter nerd.

48. The 4 Kings:

The 4 Kings have a twisted, vaguely metallic look they usually hand around in the endless darkness of The Abyss. That is cool. However it’s laborious to disregard the truth that greater than 4 kings spawn throughout their boss struggle. What’s with that? 

47. Nightfall of Oolacile:

Nightfall’s presence in Lordran alerts the beginning of Darkish Souls’ glorious Artorias of the Abyss enlargement. Previous that, she’s a confused time traveler who is comparatively bland in comparison with most characters. 

46. Knight Kirk: 

Kirk, Knight of Thorns, is sort of a center faculty bully. He comes out of nowhere and assaults you with obvious glee. And like coping with a bully, the one factor worse than probably getting your ass kicked is understanding that beneath his prickly exterior is a tragic child who simply needs consideration.

45. Maneater Mildred:

There’s one thing to be mentioned about an individual who’s keen to strip off their garments, put a bag on their head, and run by means of a toxic swamp simply to hack individuals aside with a machete. Mildred scares me, however I am impressed along with her dedication.

44. Elizabeth the Mushroom: 

Elizabeth will get factors for being an enormous speaking mushroom, however she pales compared to the lovable — and surprisingly lethal — enjoyable guys in Darkroot Backyard. 

43. Quelana of Izalith:

So far as pyromancers go, Quelana’s a professional. In actual fact, she’s thought of the mom of the fiery artwork. Regardless of her spectacular resume, Quelana is the black sheep of her household. It’s not as a result of she’s into beginning fires, although. Quelana’s an outcast particularly as a result of she’s the one member of her clan that isn’t fucked up in some horrible manner. Solution to kill the curve, firestarter.

42. Undead Poison Service provider:

Right here’s some lore hypothesis: This poison-slinging service provider is crushing on her male counterpart huge time, however he’s in love with another person. And so, she waits for an eternity, promoting knives and sewer moss as a intelligent manner of keeping track of her unrequited love with out seeming too apparent.

41. Undead Burg Service provider: 

This dude’s a nutter. He has some weapons to promote, positive, however his singular obsession with Yulia — who or no matter that truly is — dominates his ideas. Possibly it is his uchigatana. Maybe it is his favourite bucket. Or perhaps, simply perhaps, it is the long-forgotten title of a lovely woman from close by he as soon as knew…

40. Princess Gwynevere:

Gwynevere is not actually within the recreation. The larger-than-life lady gamers encounter is definitely an phantasm. However even nonetheless, Gwynevere’s remembered by gamers as one in every of Darkish Souls‘ greatest, uh, belongings.

39. Blacksmith Vamos:

After trudging by means of the Catacombs, it is good to fulfill a skeleton that is not hell-bent on murdering you. Vamos is a group of bones who is aware of his manner round a forge. His defining trait is his skeletal beard, which appears to be like as if it is assembled from finger bones. That is as spectacular as it’s macabre. 

38. Sieglinde of Catarina:

One of many hardest components of rising up is watching your dad and mom begin to lose a step or two. Sieglinde spends all of her time in Lordran chasing down her father in an effort to get him to simply, like, decelerate for a minute. She’s an incredible daughter, however an in any other case one-note character.

37. Witch Beatrice:

Though she will get little display screen time, Witch Beatrice is rad as hell. She absolutely commits to her namesake, carrying a haunting gown awash in deep purples with a gnarled wood catalyst in hand. Beatrice is a summonable character who can hurl spells on the Moonlight Butterfly and 4 Kings bosses, and whereas her presence is welcome, it additionally leaves you wanting extra.

36. Ceaseless Discharge:

Ceaseless Discharge locations this excessive particularly as a result of his title is without doubt one of the grossest doable combos of phrases within the English language.

35. King Jeremiah:

At a sure level, Darkish Souls gamers understand style is extra necessary than kind. Jeremiah understands this, and his bulbous crown works as each an homage to Demon’s Souls and an absurd look that’d slot in on the Met Gala.

34. Alvina:

A fats cat with the present of gab. What’s to not love?

33. Anastacia of Astora:

Anastacia is maimed, tongueless, and trapped. Her existence is a merciless reminder that retaining the age of fireside going comes at a really steep price. Regardless of by no means uttering a single phrase, her presence is sorely missed ought to gamers enable sure occasions to transpire.

32. Knight Lautrec of Carim:

Lautrec is a dick. An absolute madman. A terror in gold-plated armor. However for as annoying as his actions over the course of Darkish Souls are, it’s laborious to fully despise him as a result of he appears to be like so rattling cool. 

31. Marvelous Chester:

This man is a grinning hunter ripped from one other world. He is mainly a Bloodborne cosplayer, and since Bloodborne is so good, Chester locations greater than he has any actual proper to. 

30. Patches:

I hate Patches. I hate him so goddamn a lot. However I’m additionally frightened of him. Spending numerous hours in his signature squatting pose will need to have toned his physique to Adonis-like proportions. 

29. Crestfallen Service provider: 

Take a look at this stoic motherfucker. Simply have a look at him and inform me you’re not impressed.

28. Crossbreed Priscilla: 

As her title implies, Priscilla the offspring of a dragon and a god. She’s one other character with an unlucky backstory. Gwyn feared her energy a lot that he locked her inside a portray to maintain his realm protected from Priscilla’s harmful potential. Priscilla, nonetheless, is not outwardly hostile. In actual fact, she’s relatively candy. She’s trapped, however totally nice, content material to be left alone with the opposite castaways within the Painted World. 

27. Ingward:

Ingward’s spooky as hell, and whereas not a specter himself, he spends all of his time with ghosts. He is notable not just for his wraith-like masks and placing purple robes but additionally for his position in flooding New Londo. Flooding a complete metropolis is harmful work, however what’s much more spectacular is how rapidly Ingward provides away the important thing to the floodgates he spent untold years watching when you ask him properly. 

26. Lord’s Blade Ciaran: 

Ciaran’s a talented murderer with a watch for style. She seems in Oolacile to pay respects at her former companion’s remaining resting place and is so upset at dropping a companion that she’s keen to depart her weapons behind in alternate for a fleeting reminiscence. Ciaran’s one in every of many Darkish Souls characters who deserve extra direct consideration; she’s a mysterious lady who lets her blades do the speaking when push involves stab.

25. Chaos Witch Quelaag: 

One other youngster of Izalith, Quelaag’s present kind is that of a bare-chested lady rising out of a horrifying spider’s sternum. She’s imposing, quick, and doubtless chargeable for awakening a brand new kink amongst Darkish Souls gamers.

24. Darkish Solar Gwyndolin:

Gywndolin is the chief of the Darkmoon Blades and the final remaining god in Anor Londo. He’s the youngest youngster of Gwyn and spends his time lording over his father’s ceremonial tomb. Though his kin’s affiliation with gentle and hearth is effectively documented, Gwyndolin’s penchant for magic and moon-based powers make him one of many recreation’s most complicated and memorable characters.

23. Quelaan:

This daughter of Izalith is the saddest member of a cursed household. The Honest Girl, or Quelaan as many want to name her, is an element spider, identical to Quelaag. However in contrast to her sister, who appears to thrive in her newfound kind, Quelaan is in a state of fixed struggling. When the Chosen Undead first encounters this Fireplace Keeper, she’s dying a gradual and painful dying, blind and motionless. Gamers can converse along with her by carrying a particular ring and help her restoration by sacrificing hard-earned humanity. It’s price it largely for the satisfaction of understanding that you simply helped save one of many recreation’s purest souls. 

22. Oswald of Carim:

Oswald appears to be like like he solely smokes clove cigarettes. He’s a grown-up goth who prefers to maintain monitor of Lordran’s sinners from a darkish nook of the Undead Parish’s bell tower whereas listening to Siouxsie and the Banshees.

21. Large Blacksmith:

This towering tradesman spends all of his time hammering away at tools he may by no means hope to make use of. His nice character and mellow demeanor are a welcome salve to the cruelties of life in Lordran.

20. Shiva of the East:

Shiva may get by on fashion alone. His armor echoes his Japanese origins, equal components sensible and stylish. When push involves shove, Shiva’s no slouch with a blade both. Because the chief of the Forest Hunters, Shiva prides himself on his potential to topple intruders with exact strikes and lethal effectivity.

19. Gravelord Nito: 

Out of all of Darkish Souls‘ bosses, nobody conveys the sport’s “put together to die” mantra higher than Nito. The lord of the lifeless is an enormous, shifting assortment of skeletal stays which have mixed because the personification of Demise itself. Nito’s able to inflicting dying and sickness from his cozy sarcophagus within the Tomb of the Giants, which is a real testomony to his energy.

18. Laurentius of the Nice Swamp: 

Of all of the characters that come to inhabit Firelink Shrine, Laurentius is well essentially the most endearing. Positive, he attire like a hobo and considers a nasty swamp his splendid atmosphere, however in contrast to Shrek, Laurentius is the sort of individual you’d need to get a beer with. 

17. Crestfallen Warrior:

The Crestfallen Warrior is the primary individual the Chosen Undead encounters after fleeing from the Undead Asylum. He’s melodramatic and dour however nonetheless manages to share details about the world with some darkish, witty humor.  

16. Darkmoon Knightess: 

All through the Darkish Souls video games, Fireplace Keepers are typically damaged, often-disfigured characters. Whereas the Darkmoon Knightess isn’t any completely different, she’s extra proactive than her friends. Lined in brass armor to cover her “ghastly” kind, the Knightess watches over Anor Londo’s predominant bonfire with a blade at her facet.

15. Executioner Smough: 

This impossibly-large man as soon as served as Anor Londo’s heavy-hitting executioner. He’s huge, imposing, and identified for his yucky little tendency to cannibalize his victims. Smough is one-half of Darkish Souls’ dream crew, and whereas he performs second fiddle to Gwyn’s knights, defeating his companion earlier than tackling the executioner provides Smough a chance for a twisted little bit of revenge.

14. Dragon Slayer Ornstein:

If Smough’s hulking determine is his defining trait, Ornstein’s high-energy acrobatics are a obligatory counterweight. He zips round Anor Londo like a gymnast with undiagnosed ADHD, thrusting his lightning-infused spear with stunning precision. The opposite half of the Darkish Souls‘ dynamic duo, Ornstein is what occurs when your hyperactive good friend begins weapons coaching. 

13. Gwyn, Lord of Cinder:

Gwyn’s legacy is a world completely marred by tragedy. His tireless pursuit of a continued age of fireside is the direct reason for a lot ache. By the point gamers attain him on the Kiln of the First Flame, the Lord of Cinder stands over a smoldering flame, the results of his life’s work actually dying earlier than his eyes. The struggle in opposition to Gwyn is a poignant end result to the Chosen Undead’s journey. It lacks the bombast of different boss fights, as an alternative reveling in a haunting melancholy that’s made all of the extra memorable by the sport’s greatest piece of music.

*Creator’s Be aware: I can’t hearken to his theme with out immediately tearing up.

12. Hawkeye Gough:

Hawkeye Gough cannot see. In some unspecified time in the future, a thick resin coated the archer’s helmet, which leads the enormous to suppose that he is blind. Gough’s a retired knight who chooses to spend his remaining days whittling wooden carvings infused together with his booming voice. Whereas that is extraordinarily chill in its personal proper, Gough’s legacy is elevated to new heights by his potential to shoot a dragon out of the sky with out even seeing it in flight. That’s legendary.

11. Andre of Astora:

This strapping chap is the primary motive millennials are selecting to enroll in commerce faculties relatively than formal training. He’s a barrel-chested blacksmith with a bitchin’ ponytail who’s as even-tempered because the merchandise he produces.

10. Sif, the Nice Gray Wolf:

Sif is loyal to a fault. She’s an previous wolf who has survived numerous battles and performed an element in among the most important moments in Lordran’s historical past. Regardless of all that she’s seen and completed, Sif stays loyal to her former grasp and spends each waking second guarding over his gravesite. Sif does not need to struggle the Chosen Undead. She solely needs to ensure her grasp’s remaining resting place is left in peace. Squaring off in opposition to her is totally heartbreaking.

9. Massive Hat Logan:

Massive Hat Logan is the patron saint of social nervousness. He’s a strong sorcerer so consumed by a thirst for arcane data that he, Logan, selected to put on a huge ole’ hat to keep away from the lingering stares of random passersby. Like so many sensible minds, Logan appears to lack frequent sense, as evidenced by his uncanny potential to be captured a number of occasions.

eight. Domhnall of Zema:

In a world the place everyone seems to be cursed, dying, and going insane, Domhnall stays chipper. He’s a service provider who at all times manages to get his fingers on unique armors with out making an attempt too laborious. His signature greeting, “Aye, siwmae,” is as iconic as his eclectic getup, and Lordran’s a greater place with him in it.

7. Oscar of Astora: 

Though Oscar makes all of it of three minutes into Darkish Souls earlier than he meets his finish, he’s arguably essentially the most useful character in the complete recreation. The noble knight manages to free the Chosen Undead, inform the participant’s journey, and go on his Estus Flask earlier than taking his remaining breath. Oscar does a lot with so little display screen time that preventing his hollowed husk later within the recreation virtually seems like a criminal offense. 

6. Knight Artorias: 

The parable of Artorias is simply as spectacular as Artorias the online game boss, and that is saying one thing. Artorias is the sort of warrior that is spoken about in hushed, reverent tones. The Abyss’s name addles Artorias’s thoughts, and a latest battle has shattered his arm by the point gamers encounter him in Oolacile. However regardless of his situation, he is nonetheless ready to struggle the Chosen Undead together with his nondominant hand, a contact that’s efficient for conveying his fight prowess and hammering residence simply how a lot his trustworthy companion, Sif, means to him. That’s the signal of a superb pet proprietor.

5. Havel the Rock: 

Havel’s an plain badass. His armor is constituted of large items of rock, and his most well-liked weapon is a tooth ripped from the maw of a dragon. Whereas Havel is greatest referred to as Lordran’s most completed — and lethal — doorman, uncovering his gear in Anor Londo reveals his extra secretive facet. Alongside together with his armor, weapon, and greatshield, Havel additionally as soon as possessed a wood membership infused with Occult energy, a component able to harming even the gods. Havel was so assured that he was ready to kill Lordran’s gods with a wood stick. Respect.

four. Siegmeyer of Catarina:

The large boy. The absentminded adventurer. The Onion Knight. Siegmeyer is the Darkish Souls’ beating coronary heart. Upon first assembly Siegmeyer, he is perched exterior of Sen’s Fortress, defeated by its locked gate. He comes throughout like a plump model of Eeyore at first however following him by means of Lordran reveals a warrior pushed by a reckless streak. Fast to throw himself into hazard and nice to have a chat with, Seigmeyer is sort of a cool uncle that exhibits up each few months when his spouse “unintentionally” modifications the locks once more. 

three. Solaire of Astora: 

No online game has a extra entertaining mascot character than Solaire. He’s the Billy Hatcher of Darkish Souls, a plucky hero who’s as charming as he’s environment friendly. Every thing out of Solaire’s mouth is pure gold; his persistent need to assist, his “Reward the Solar” catchphrase, and his honest want to be as “grossly incandescent” because the solar are brilliant moments in a depressing recreation. He’s an excellent bastard who understands the significance of serving to a good friend in want. We may all study a lesson from Solaire. 

2. Iron Knight Tarkus:

Tarkus is the definition of an Absolute Unit. He’s bulk personified, an indomitable mass of black metal and grit. Tarkus will be summoned precisely as soon as in Darkish Souls, however he understands a robust first impression is all that you simply want. If summoned, it’s solely doable Iron Knight Tarkus will tackle the boss of Sen’s Fortress solo. He is a tank. A fixer. The sort of man you’ll be able to depend on to get shit completed. Simply do not ask him to wash your rafters, he is sort of clumsy.

1. The Chill Hole in New Londo:

This Hole is the only greatest a part of Darkish Souls. He’s undead and completely loving it. He’s content material to spend an eternity laying languidly above the ruins of New Londo, blissfully unaware of the chaos that surrounds him. He does not struggle. He does not even acknowledge your presence. As an alternative, he simply stares off into the space, dreamily pondering something and nothing unexpectedly.

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[anotherhopespeak]

Upupupu! Did you see the looks on those kids’ faces when I popped up? Classic! I’m going to have fun with this batch.

(2085 words)

For a long moment, silence reigned in the gymnasium. The students could bring themselves to do nothing expect stare at the little creature at the podium, some with mouths agape, all thoroughly confused. The bear was the only one moving, darting its head back and forth among the faces in the sparse crowd, fixating each of them with two stares: one from the round eye on the white half of his eyes, and one from the crimson gash that passed for an eye on the other half, the black half on which half the face was covered by a pointy-toothed grin.

The silence was finally broken when the bear began to laugh, a snide chortle in that grating voice that had previously been coming out of the speakers, pressing his paws to his belly and shaking with the laughter. His robotic face, despite the default smiling expression being permanently etched onto his features, even seemed to reflect that menacing glee.

“Well, well, well!” the bear said as he finished laughing and wiped a non-existent tear from below his red eye. “Isn’t this a fine welcome for your headmaster! Honestly, you people look like you’ve never seen a bear before! Close your mouths, geniuses, you’ll catch flies.”

Goggles Boy was the first to find his voice again. “H-headmaster?” he spluttered out. “What are you – ?”

“That’s right!” the bear interrupted him, spreading his arms and dipping into a deep bow. “The name’s Monokuma. Monokuma-sensei to you rugrats, or even Monokuma-sama if you’re feeling generous. Don’t worry, blasphemy’s not against any rule in this school.”

Silence for another moment, and then a student started laughing. “Oh man,” Baggy Jeans said through his chuckle. “When this school wants to mess with the underclassmen, they really get creative, don’t they? Don’t think I’ve ever been pranked with a remote-controlled bear toy before.”

Monokuma settled his gaze on the boy. “Who are you calling a toy, Chuckles? Were you not listening before? I’m the headmaster.”

The boy’s comment, though, had already begun to lighten the tension in the room. The students around him relaxed their shoulders or released held breaths, some smiling. One, girl in olive overalls and green pigtails, even joined in the laughing, her hands to her face to smother her giggles. Pink Dress, though, simply rolled her eyes. “Seriously? The most presitigious school in the country starts off its school year with a ceremony led by a teddy bear?”

“Aw, lighten up,” Muscular Blond, who was standing beside her, said, giving her a punch on the arm that earned him a death glare. “Besides, this probably isn’t the ceremony, just some upperclassman prank.”

“So, when’s the real ceremony starting?” asked a girl in a yellow neckerchief and blue bucket head, peering back up at Monokuma.

For a few moments more, the students buzzed about with quiet laughter and mumbled comments about the proceedings so far, while the bear looked on. Then, an enormous bang sounded throughout the gym, making several students jump, and bringing all attention back to the podium that Monokuma had just hit with an enormous gavel.

“That’s better,” he said. His voice was darker now, sharper, more business-like. “Are you people like this with all your headmasters? Just ignore them and talk amongst yourselves while they’re trying to give a speech? If so, I guess I’ve got my work cut out for me, having to put an end to that sort of behavior.”

Bucket Hat stiffened, standing at attention and raising her hand to her forehead in a salute. “Sorry, sir! Won’t happen again!”

Orange Shirt gave her a light shove. “Dude, it’s a teddy bear. You don’t have to salute it.”

“Yeah,” another boy muttered from nearby, whose whole outfit from his sneakers to his beanie was stained with neon splatters of paint. “Wait for the real headmaster to show up.”

“The real headmaster?” Monokuma repeated. “Geez, you people really are slow. Fine, you know what? Don’t take my word for it. You’ve got plenty of time to come to the realization of who’s in charge here. Probably another sixty-some years, if the current stats on life expectancy can be believed.”

Once again the students looked baffled. “What are you talking about?” a brown-haired boy in a sweater covering a white button-down asked.

“Well, we only take the best and the brightest at Hope’s Peak, right?” Monokuma said, cocking his head to the side. “So we’ve got the highest caliber of students in Japan all right here in the same building. Why hang onto them for only a few years? Nah, it makes much more sense to keep you here for the rest of your lives. Say hello to your new home from now until ready for an urn!”

That got a reaction. After a few seconds during which the students wrapped their heads around what they’d just heard, a flood of exclamations broke out, choruses of “What?!” and “Are you fucking kidding me?” and “You’re crazy!” bouncing off the walls of the gymnasium.

Monokuma just laughed again before clambering down off the podium and bouncing onto the floor of the gym. “Aw, don’t get your knickers in a twist! It’s a good life here, you know. We’ve got the budget to keep you people fed and happy until your dying breaths. I mean, sure, the wi-fi’s not great, but I’d say the sacrifice is worth it. Besides, we need you to be cut off from the outside world while you’re here. Keep your minds clear and all, right?”

“When you say ‘cut off from the outside’…” began a freckle-faced girl with her hair in a long, thin braid began, narrowing her eyes.

“Surely you noticed?” Monokuma said, bringing his paws to his cheeks as if in surprise. “I mean, I figured that the metal plates on all the windows in the school would have tipped you off. What, did you think they were just there for decoration?”

Eyes widened throughout the gym at that remark. Most of the students had simply forgotten about the state of the classrooms in which they woke up, but now that he mentioned it, it was suspicious. And it seemed like overkill for a start-of-the-year prank.

“Oh, now you remember, do you? Yep, this school been fortified for your convenience. Bang on the doors and scream all you want, it won’t make a lick of difference. Hey, now, don’t give me that look,” he added, holding up his paws defensively in response to the glares the students were throwing his way. “You people accepted the invitations, and you all walked into the school on your own power. That counts as a permission slip in my book.”

“We – we didn’t sign up for this!” Antenna Headband cried, her voice cracking with fury. “No one wants to stay in this school for life!”

“Well, you raise an excellent point, Ladybug,” Monokuma said, acknowledging her with a little half-bow. “But there’s no need to fret. If you really want to leave the school that badly, I’ve arranged a little loophole in the school rules. I call it ‘graduation’!”

At the students’ questioning looks, he went on. “Don’t worry, people, I’ll give you the run-down on all the school rules in a minute. The gist of them, though, is that as long as you’re within these school walls, you are all to live communally and peacefully with each other. If someone, though, were to elect to wreck that peace, then their gall will be rewarded with graduation for them and them alone!”

“Wreck the peace how?” Ear Guages asked slowly.

Monokuma turned to him, and the stationary fanged grin on the dark half of his face seemed to stretch as his scarlet eye flashed. “Murder, of course!”

His answer was met with a series of gasps and exclamations, but the bear ignored them and plowed on. “You heard me! Slice a throat, bash a skull in, smother ‘em with a pillow, toss ‘em in the oven, feed ‘em to the sharks. I don’t care how it’s done. Just kill, and you get to waltz out of this school with blood on your hands and a spring in your step!”

He dropped his hands behind his back and began rocking innocently back and forth on his heels. “Ooh hoo hoo, look at the faces in this crowd! Is that despair I see? Beautiful! Delicious! I’d take a photo, but I think it’s better to just enjoy the moment.”

“Are… are you serious?” Gatsby Cap asked, whipping his head around to look at the other students as if expecting one of them to suddenly laugh and yell, ‘Psych! I really had you going!’ “This is for real?”

Orange Hair had brought her hands to her temples and begun trembling. “This isn’t funny,” she said, her voice coming out like a whimper. “Stop it. This is an awful prank.”

By this point Monokuma’s laugh was almost familiar, yet it still sent a chill down each student’s spine as it began again and he turned menacingly toward the shaking girl. “Hot damn, are you really as dumb as you look? Wake up and smell the formaldehyde, kiddo! This is no prank! This is your life now! You stay, or you kill; there’s no other option!”

“Hey, knock it off!” Baggy Jeans shouted, hurrying over and shoving the toy away. “You’ve almost made her cry! Seriously, cut the act already!”

Monokuma had fallen to the floor when the boy shoved him, and now was slowly returning to his feet as he turned back to approach the pair. “Act?” he said. His voice was softer than it had been before, and lower. “You still don’t believe me?”

With a snarl, Baggy Jeans brought up his foot and stomped the bear onto the ground. “No. I don’t.”

Monokuma’s eye flashed, really lighting up from within. “Ah, ah, ah,” he chuckled. “Violence against the headmaster is forbidden. But, you know, you haven’t looked at the rules yet. I suppose this once, I can let you off with just a warning. You ready?”

“Ready for – ?” the boy began, but was cut off when, all off a sudden, sparks shot from the toy. Tiny thread of lightning made their way up his leg and surrounded his whole frame. He screamed, muscles frozen stiffly in place as the electricity flooded him. It lasted only a few seconds, but to him and the witnessing students, it seemed hours. When it finally stopped, he collapsed to the floor, breathing hard and clutching his middle.

The students all stared, aghast, both at the boy, and the bear, which seemed to have fried itself out despite still shooting out buzzes of blue sparks.

“And that,” came the voice of Monokuma from the podium, “was a warning. Be grateful I didn’t punish you for real, kid! Next time I won’t be so nice.”

Every head turned toward the stage, where a new Monokuma stood at the podium, the burnt-out husk of the previous bear discarded and forgotten. He continued speaking as casually as if nothing had happened. “Best you guys take a look at those school rules as soon as the ceremony’s ended. I’ve got eyes in every inch of the school, so I’ll know when you break one. I believe now we can forget this foolish idea that this is some sort of joke?”

He reached from under the podium and pulled out a wallet-sized device that looked like a sleek, thin touch-phone. “Don’t worry, I made it easy for you. A quick examination of your pockets will yield one of these bad boys – your Student ID. Got everything you need: school rules, school map, identification. Top-of-the-line and totally indestructible! Don’t say I never did anything nice for you!”

The bear put the device away as the students curiously dug out their own, surprised to find that the IDs had made it into their pockets without their noticing.

Monokuma watched them all, satisfied that, at the very least, they now knew that they were in this for real, and must be taking it at least a little bit seriously. “Well!” He clapped his paws together. “I think I’ve said everything I need to! This welcoming ceremony has now come to a close. Feel free to peruse those rules at your leisure, and remember, I’ll be watching! Enjoy your stay at Hope’s Peak Academy!”

With that, he dipped into a bow, disappearing behind the pedestal, his laughter echoing throughout the gym even after he was gone.

[judgebrix]

Like many of you older metalheads out there, I have listened to GnR ever since the “Appetite for Destruction” album.  We jumped around playing air guitar to Slash’s solos, screamed with Axl, and mimed along to all the songs.

Some of us true GnR fans may even have attempted to replicate their look with bandanas, ripped jeans, and long hair – although the long hair was pretty common across all the 80s and 90s rock bands.

My hair was never suited as a heavy metal dude.  It is super thin and the slightest nylon carpet makes it electrically charged with static, so I look like a giant tesla glass ball.  So, I kept my hair fairly short most of my youth, donning the classic bowl cut.

I remember sitting in my friend’s room, painting figurines for Dungeons and Dragons.  We built these elaborate landscapes while listening to Axl’s iconic voice and the awesome riffs from Slash.  Man, those were the great times of my youth!

Seeing them in concert has always been on my bucket list, so when I got invited to see them live in October 2017, I of course couldn’t say no.  To be honest, a vendor invited me, and I probably replied within 27 seconds of receiving the invite.  I was giggling frantically as I typed up my reply “Hell Yes!“.

It is crazy it is already more than two years ago, since this amazing evening, seeing Guns ‘n Roses live at Madison Square Garden.  And, what better place to witness these ’80s and ’90s legends live on stage.

I was going to the gig with my colleague, or rather my boss, who is the same age as me.  Not wives.  No kids.  No family commitments that evening – just an evening with Axl and Slash … and the rest of the band who many don’t really know – sorry!

So many questions ran through my head as I was making my way to the Garden.

Will I have to show ID at the entrance?

Should I buy more than one T-shirt?

Will the GnR female fans look the same as in the 80s and 90s?

What time does the concert finish, as I have to get kids up early for school?

Will the guys wear the same shirts and waive the same hairs?

Will Axl and Slash burst into a fistfight on stage?

Will I see men my age headbang?

Will they play some of the hits?

Will I be forced to listen to some of their newer stuff?

I got the answers to all my questions that evening, and some were frightening to say the least, especially as I witnessed men my age attempting to dress as we did back when, showing off their amazing blond/brown/silver manes, with more bald patches than a hairless cat.  Most guys had developed a slight little beer-belly, stretching their GnR t-shirt a fair bit.

Many of the female supporters also decided to dress like they did 30 years earlier, except some of them might have grown a little all over.  Many went braless from the looks of it, as their boobs were closer to their bellybutton.

But heck, we don’t care.  This is the band we like.  Why not honor them with loyal fans, dressed in the best GnR gear and ready for an evening with plenty of rock.

The cool thing about being invited is that you often end up in a VIP box.  No need to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with hard dancing sweaty guys, getting a whiff of their body odors as they raise their arms to salute these rock gods.

We were standing in a small little booth, with plenty of room, fully stocked with beers, snacks, and a buffet of snack food … and our own toilet in the suite.  There was an excellent view of the stage and we could hear everything perfectly.

The Garden filled up quickly as we neared the grand start of the concert, and the anticipation grew by the minute.  I was giggling like a teenager, and so was the rest of the business suit dressed guys in the VIP suite.

Suddenly, the light dimmed, the voices from the crowds below grew and the revving of a muscle-car filled the arena.  People know something amazing was going to happen.  The shouts became louder, revving wilder, and suddenly the drums started to join in.

The crowd went bananas.  The iconic metal hand gestures flew into the air, across the arena, even in the VIP boxes, as we all hailed the rock gods about to jump on stage.  We worshipping these lords of foul language, bad hair, and skinny feckers.

We were ready to be rocked of our socks!

Then, just like magic, Axl’s voice filled the arena, and he kicked off the concert with an avalanche of lights, guitar riffs, drums, and more screaming.  This was absolutely amazing, and we all sucked it up and it filled our hearts with metal energy!

I’m sorry, I’m not going to describe every song, mood, and the entire experience.  But, needless to say, it was an amazing evening.

There was no warm-up band.  There was no break.  Just three hours (yes, THREE hours) of Guns n Roses playing for the masses.

Slash was impressing all with his iconic stance, his heavy riffs that no-one can imitate, and of course his rather strange hair-cut and hat.

Chubby Axl

Slash – the Man

November Rain

I wish that I had a better camera, but it is a lasting memory in my mind and you can never capture the true experience through a lense.

Axl had changed a little.  He used to be this scrawny pale dude, running around on stage, screaming and bringing the energy.  Most of that was still there, but he had also developed a healthy beer belly.  But that did not stop him from entertaining the fans, and many of us beer belly dudes were inspired when we saw it was possible to run around topless, and women were still admiring you.

Axl had embrased the dad-bod, and enabled us to be worshipped – it is awesome to have a little belly!

They played all their great and not so great hits.  It was absolutely amazing to hear ALL the songs that I’ve listened too for decades now; Paradise City, November Rain, Welcome to the Jungle, Civil War, Sweet Child ‘o Mine, You’re Crazy, Patience, Don’t Cry, Sympathy for the Devil, and Get in the Ring.

Basically every song from Appetite for Destruction and Use Your Illusion I+II … and of course their newer materials from Chinese Democrazy.

The boys really knew how to entertain.  It was pretty clear that this is what they were born to do, and have been doing for decades.  They have a huge following, and it grows steadily with younger fans joining the masses.

Even my kids love many of the GnR tracks, and it makes my heart melt when I see my offspring embracing the music I grew up with, and I realize that they like good ol’ rock music over this strange new pop music.  I have been a good rock educator and given them a solid rock foundation.

Thank you, Axl, Slash and the other dudes on stage.  You made my night and decade.  You gave us a 3 hour plus concert, with non-stop songs and entertainment.

We thank you from the bottom of our rock hearts!

Guns n Roses, Ripped Jeans and Beerbellies Like many of you older metalheads out there, I have listened to GnR ever since the "Appetite for Destruction" album.  

[sotouso]

CHARACTER STUDY: Kokichi Ouma

—    BASICS.

▸IS YOUR MUSE TALL/SHORT/AVERAGE? He’s 156cm so definitely on the short side! ▸ARE THEY OKAY WITH THEIR HEIGHT? Mostly, yes! He sees the benefits in his height and always has the personality of a giant anyway lol. But he *can* get challenging/passive aggressive if you comment on it directly. ▸WHAT’S THEIR HAIR LIKE? If you throw a bucket of water over him, it’ll probably almost reach his shoulders, but it’s such an octopus-hairstyle/messy that it seems short and somehow stylish? How...  ▸DO THEY SPEND A LOT OF TIME ON THEIR HAIR AND GROOMING? Nah, does this dude look like he spends more than 1 secound on brushing his hair lol. ▸DOES YOUR MUSE CARE ABOUT THEIR APPEARANCE/WHAT OTHERS THINK? Uuummm, I think he cares about seeming intimidating, in a sense fitting to his talent. That’s also why he wears punk-ish styled clothes and even has a cape and hat if he’s fully dressed. He also chooses color-less (black/white) clothes to seem more scary, but in the artbook it’s revealed that his genuine tastes in clothes are really colorful ones, which you can only see on the red/yellow underwear he’s wearing hfiwhgw.

—    PREFERENCES.

▸INDOORS OR OUTDOORS? Outdoors but he’s totally cool with relaxing indoors from time to time too and even prefers that on some days. ▸RAIN OR SUNSHINE? Both. This dude can have his fun no matter the weather ▸FOREST OR BEACH? Beach, Forest sounds like too many bugs... ▸PRECIOUS METALS OR GEMS? Metal, he seems like the type that likes golden things just because fancy lol.  ▸FLOWERS OR PERFUMES? UUUMM, idk man I don’t see him totally into either, maybe flowers? I imagine him as the type who’d say too much of a perfume reeks. ▸PERSONALITY OR APPEARANCE? Personality, you can gain no points with him with your looks alone. You gotta be fun and interesting. ▸BEING ALONE OR BEING IN A CROWD? He does like being with people, but he’s the type of guy that always has a huge distant to everyone, so probably if he’s not around the right people, he’s even rather alone. ▸ORDER OR ANARCHY? UUUMM that one’s hard. He’s THE guy that plays against the rules, but he also despises crimes that hurt people, but I think anarchy is still more his style. ▸PAINFUL TRUTHS OR WHITE LIES? Y’all know this one. Though if you corner and provoke him enough, he can give out painful truths VERY easily and harshly too. ▸SCIENCE OR MAGIC? Science for the most part, but I could see him liking some deceiving magic tricks, I don’t think the difference of which he prefers is that big. ▸PEACE OR CONFLICT? In the long run definitely peace, but here and there he wants to provoke some conflicts to spice up life. ▸NIGHT OR DAY? I see him as a night owl, so probably night, but daylight doesn’t stop his fun of the day either. ▸DUSK OR DAWN? Dusk! If he can, he sleeps in at dawn lol. ▸WARMTH OR COLD? Warmth, probably, just because summer feels like the time where he and his gang could do more pranks lol. ▸MANY ACQUAINTANCES OR A FEW CLOSE FRIENDS? Few close friends, it’s super hard to make any friends anyways hfiwhgiwl.  ▸READING OR PLAYING A GAME? HE LOVES GAMES, he surely reads too but he’d prefer games over reading a book anyday.

—    QUESTIONNAIRE.

▸WHAT ARE SOME OF YOUR MUSE’S BAD HABITS? There are so many, I guess the biggest is that he always lies to people and never lets anyone get really close to him. ▸HAS YOUR MUSE LOST ANYONE CLOSE TO THEM? HOW HAS IT AFFECTED THEM?If you count DICE, he’s pretty depressed about that. Not that anyone could ever notice lol. Of course there are also his other classmates of the killing game that died, I think it made him more mistrusting if anything... ▸WHAT ARE SOME FOND MEMORIES YOUR MUSE HAS? His memories with DICE (even when fake) other than that, there’s really not much sadly hfiwhw. But hopefully he can make some here. ▸IS IT EASY FOR YOUR MUSE TO KILL? No, he planned a murder once and it affected him like, a lot. Kokichi HATES killing and being involved in one murder himself wasn’t anything he enjoyed or was easy for him at all. ▸WHAT’S IT LIKE WHEN YOUR MUSE BREAKS DOWN? Oof. He goes kind of crazy, seems creepy and even more isolated? Very passive aggressive and idk. He probably will seem more mad than sad in front of others. ▸ IS YOUR MUSE CAPABLE OF TRUSTING SOMEONE WITH THEIR LIFE? :’) No. Maybe someday ▸WHAT’S YOUR MUSE LIKE WHEN THEY’RE IN LOVE? HARD, well, if he will get a romantic interest in someone, he wouldn’t even realize it himself at first, or more like, deny it. So he’d tease them maybe more than others, or just in a more playful/flirty way if that makes sense. Once he finally stops lying to himself about his soft feelings for that special someone, he’d be bold enough to make the first move too, but until then, who knows how much time would pass...

[daddybetty-blog]

Unique homemade halloween costumes for kids in 2017

October 31 appears to creep up on us. Still set on managing Junior to that one-of-a kind disguise ? Frightened by the thought of creating your own costume from scratch? Don`t be. Get into the spirit with ideas that can pulled-together with more household items, espresso filets, and cup cake liners. We know it`s tempting to just give up and check out the Halloween store for some packaged kid costumes, but imagine about how unique your child`s outfit will be in the event you use one of the ideas as inspiration. These Halloween costumes for kids range from easy to more complex, in order to pick your favorite based on your own skill level. All of these may be accomplished during some free time over the weekend, so you won`t have to plan too much in advance. If your child is begging to get a store-bought costume, you can find plenty of options to get them to reconsider, including two types of peacock alternatives, mermaid, aviator, and a racecar driver. You can also sweeten the offer by bringing them with you therefore they have a part in making the disguise, when you buy the components. When Halloween comes around, they`ll be pleased to have a completely distinctive costume.

Shark Costume

If the Jaws theme tune is going through your head right now, you`ve got the proper idea. But don`t worry, your small shark won`t be as menacing as the one in the classic movie. This ferocious guy will likely be terrorizing the neighbors—for only an extra handful of candy, of course. Only a few supplies are needed to generate this shark`s difficult skin, including a hooded sweatshirt and felt. If you`re looking to get a team costume thought, get your entire family to be fish, mermaids, and scuba divers for an under-the-sea theme.

Lightning Cloud

What things to do when your kid doesn`t want to be a rainbow or sun this yr? Dress up him as a lightning cloud. This intense dude will bolt from house to house making a significant dent in the neighborhood candy offer when Halloween strikes. Glue polyester fiber to the front of cap that is white and a white crewneck sweatshirt. For the “electric” pants, cut out lighting bolt designs from aluminum silver tape and glue to gray pants. He`ll be ready cause a commotion on Halloween evening with this clever costume.

Fisherman Costume

This seafarer is positive to reel in compliments (and candy!) with this low-maintenance disguise. There`s no catch to how effortless this costume is to make—but there are a couple household items needed. The only factor you`ll require to make is the fish-ing pole—for the raincoat and pants, just add a strip of silver tape to the arms, legs, and torso portion of the jacket. For the fish-ing pole, you`ll need a wooden dowel, toilet paper roll (which will be the “reel”), ribbon along with a ceiling hook. By buying toy fish and perhaps even a bucket hat, Accessorize.

Sea Monster Costume

Beware of the multi-colored, three-eye-d monster on the loose. (Sources say he`s looking for extra gooey, peanut-butter filled treats. He`ll be able to show off his wild side in this clever and colourful costume. This disguise that is terrifying felt, and comes together with streamers, cupcake liners, Pingpong balls, and matching hooded sweatshirt and pants. You`ll need to glue cupcake liners across the sleeves and attach orange felt circles to the front of the sweatshirt. Add streamers to the knees of the pants as well as the cuffs of the sweatshirt. Create razor sharp teeth with felt glued to the hood and add a couple of eyes to the very top of the hood with Pingpong balls.

Cobalt Peacock Costume

Here comes little skip spectacular with her vibrant blue feathers and her chipper disposition. Just when you thought one peacock costume wasn`t enough, here`s an option that`s in a deeper, cobalt-blue. This model is perfect for small children who mightn't have endurance to get a longer —the “train” is shorter on this one. To produce this one, you`ll require the same feathers made of cupcake liner and tissue-paper, but instead of creating lengthier ones, you`ll want to keep them shorter. Don`t neglect to complete the outfit using an ornamental headband.

Flapper Costume

A Roaring Twenties revival: Dancing her way round strands of pearls, the neighborhood having a bob-cut along with a hot pink dress that, properly, we designed for for twirling. The fringe on the gown is created from something entirely unique: Pink Post-it notes. Use fringe scissors or regular scissors to cut slits and connect rows and rows of them onto the gown with metallic tape. Both the “flowers”about the headband and dress are made from cupcake liners. After you`ve prepped the dress, be sure you practice the Charleston or Turkey Trot along with her before the large night.

Yellow Duckling Costume

Here`s a concept that`s positive to quack your little one up. Plus, in bright-yellow, your child will actually stand out in a group. A pair of boots that are orange as well as a bunch of faux feathers will have your fortunate duckling ready to waddle around the hood. The hat with eyeballs and a bill are made from a ping pong ball, feathers, and a baseball cap. To actually get into character, practice making duck sounds with them to allow them to show off when it`s time to go trick-or-treating. The outfit is also a-plus because it features long sleeves and long pants so it`s perfect to get a chilly Halloween night.

Lamb Costume

What`s blaahk, white, and fluffy all over? This sweet little lamb. The costume that is snuggly is both cozy and comfy, which is best to get a chilly Halloween evening. You`ll need a long sleeve shirt, leggings, and plenty of cotton balls to complete the disguise. The “hooves” on the costume are just strips of black tape attached to the sleeves and pant legs. And don`t forget concerning the ears: Attach two pieces of black felt to your cap. He is able to wear white sneakers, or canvas slip-ons. Throughout the countdown to Halloween evening, assist him practice his “baa” sounds.

Cost of daycare in Toronto

Jailbird Costume

Needless to say, this entertaining costume will be loved by the children, but grownups will get a kick out of the clever perform on words. Free going to the streets on Halloween night, this guy`s disguise comes along with faux feathers, white tape, and much more. To generate the plumed top, reduce and glue a marabou boa to the body of a hooded sweatshirt. If you can`t locate striped pants, have a pair of black ones and a DD white tape to it. To create the eyes and “beak” glue a yellow base ball cap to the hood of the sweatshirt and then attach black buttons.