#unceremonious unmasking

[pethfics]

ZUTARA WEEK 2021 (Catch-up), Day Two: Disguised

Title: Unceremonious Unmasking Summary: Sometimes, the most elaborate masks were also the subtlest. People had developed so many ways of concealing themselves beyond just changing their appearance, and it was these quirks that Toph loved to explore. Read on FF.net

[shuosen]

afab! simon ‘ghost’ x top! amab! reader

cw: tall! reader, unmasked reader, cunnilingus, praise, degradation, hair pulling (r), overstim, slapping

ghost is a big man. he’s tall, extremely fit, has big hands, big pecs, a big ass- everything about him is just big, so you can imagine his surprise when he meets you, a new recruit- younger than him and leaner than him, but much taller.

After he met you, his fantasies didn’t stop. maybe he’s bigger than you, but you weren’t small yourself. He thinks you could easily manhandle him, use him to your liking, make him a whore, just for you. he found himself wanting more and more, until he finally decided that the lonesome stimulation on his pussy wasnt enough, and he wasn’t going to wait anymore.

he called you in, offered a drink, just to loosen you up, to assure you that you were in no kind of trouble. he urged you to sit on the couch, not the chair, and promptly sat beside you, slinging his arm behind you.

of course, he was straightforward. whats he got to be ashamed of, and what has he got to lose?

“say, C/N.. you into men?” he asked, crossing his legs and swirling the drink in his glass. You almost choked, but not out of surprise, out of laughter. you laughed unceremoniously, pushing your hair out of your face, and leaning to look at him.

“are you asking if i’m into men, or if i’m into you?”

“what does it matter?” He asked, setting his glass down next to him.

“If you’re asking if i’m into you,” you started, letting your eyes run down to his thighs, before looking back to his face with a raise of your eyebrows. “well, i might just expect something out of this visit.”

Ghost dropped on the bed, huffing out a desperate breath while pulling you towards him by his hands in your hair, the two of you sharing a sloppy kiss, as you blindly pulled at his belt, pants, and underwear. After getting them to his mid thigh, he pushed them off the rest of the way, pulling his mask further up, the heat of the room seeming to rush down on him as soon as your hands found purchase on his bare skin.

Your eyebrows raised in intrigue as you met with his bare pussy, but you didn’t dwell on it any further, opting to grab his hips, and pull him toward you, taking note on the breathy groan that followed, leaning down so you were face to face with his sloppy folds.

chuckling softly as you spread them apart, you commented on how wet he was, before licking a tentative stripe from his hole to his small cock, savoring the taste of his slick and listening to the soft moan he let out. You admired his glistening folds for a few moments more, almost teasing him as he grew impatient, before diving into his pussy, devouring him first thing.

Ghosts legs twitched and closed around your head, and your cock twitched in your pants. suckling on his cock, you held his hips down tightly as they tried bucking upwards, a loud ‘shit!’ being punched from him as you moved down slowly, eating his hole like a delicious meal.

You’d barely gotten started and his legs had already started quivering, so you took it upon yourself and inserted a finger, licking right above his hole as you did. another one slowly entered next to the first, pumping them in and out slowly, the movements of your tongue being complete opposite.

ghost writhed on the bed, his large hands gathering in your hair, his hips twitching shaking. “comin’! come-!” He cried out, biting onto his pale lips. You retracted your mouth, leaning up and moving your fingers, before thrusting them in and out at a fast pace. each thrust of your fingers punched a whine out of him, his back arching from the bed.

“go ahead,” you whispered, pressing down on his stomach to keep him flat, “cum.” he came with a muffled cry, his legs bending and closing around your arm.

“good boy,, did so good f’me, moanin’ like a whore before i even fucked you.”

his breaths were still heavy and stuttering, but he pulled your hair, making you fall towards him with a groan, catching yourself with your hands on either side of his chest, as he locked his legs around your hips.

“fuck me now, and i’ll moan s’m more.” he almost growled, making you grin while grabbing his wrist roughly, and pulling it out of your hair.

as soon as your cock slipped into his hole, he fell into a dazed state, his red, teeth marked lips falling open as he moaned out, his arms starting to fall off your shoulders. you flinched at the tightness of his hole, your hips stuttering before you bottomed out.

“shit- ghost, s’ fuckin’ tight.” you huffed, adjusting how you were kneeling, waiting for him to come back to himself.

“muh-move, damnit.” he coughed, latching his nails onto your back. you listened well, beginning to slide your cock out of him, watching as your tip caught on his hole, before slamming inside. the moan that escaped him was sinful, and you swear if you could, you’d get the sound tattooed.

“fuckk.” you mumbled with a grin, beginning to slam into him quickly, the sloppy nature of your thrusts being made up for in speed and strength. your hips seemed to fuck into him harsher than he could’ve ever imagined, and he thinks he’ll go brain dead anytime soon at this rate.

your cock brushes against his prostate, and his moans stutter. your thrusts slow down as you angle your hips, before you’re pistoning away directly into his prostate and he cant do anything but scream, his aching pussy twitching around your cock as he cums for the second time. you slap the side of his ass, evoking a loud cry from his throat, before doing it again.

“shit! shi- shit! s’ too much, fuck!” he cries, surprised at himself for being able to make a legible sentence, as his throat feels dry, while producing too much saliva at the same time, and his tongue feel tied. your cock hits his most sensitive spot each time, deeper than he can reach on his own and he swears he might actually go insane, his mind blank and reeling at the same time.

“you can take it- fuck.. you like this, don’t you? being treated like a cock slut.”

ghost whines at your words, his body bouncing with each of your thrusts, and he pushes his hands against the bed, trying to pull himself away from you for just a second- he just needs a break- but you just slam his hips back down on your cock, and he practically sobs.

“i asked you a question.” you huff, slapping his thick thigh.

“i- i like it! oh fuck!” he groans, his knuckles turning white, a contrast to his burning body as he clenches the bed sheets beside your knees, the solid grip on his thighs and hips leaving red marks.

“there we go.” you moan breathily, moving one of your hands to twirl the tip of his cock between your fingers.

“n-no! fuhCK! WAIT!” he moans, his words breaking off into a pornographic whine that sounds too feminine to have come from him. your hips never falter, even as he comes for the third time, his sloppy cunt squirting all on your lower stomach and the sheets. you laugh, slightly shocked as he soaks your abdomen, continuing to play with his dick.

“nuh-noo! cant! u-ughk!” ghost sobs loudly, his hips twitching and bucking, his hands moving to dig into your arm, thick legs shaking against you as he struggles between pulling you closer or pushing you away, wishing you’d at least slow down your unforgiving thrusts into his cunt.

“shh, shh baby, i’ve got you.” you mumble, pulling his head onto your chest, your hips slowing to slow grinds as his noises slow to hiccups and loud whines.

“thats it.. but you’ve still gotta make me cum.” you grin, pecking his lips and returning your thrusts to their previous pace and ghost squeals, his eyes rolling back as another orgasm is ripped from him.

he got what he wanted, but at what cost.

please like and reblog to show your support! <3

[merakiui]

MERAAA it’s phantom anon here (・ω・)ノ

lemme just tell you- i’ve been rereading your old works and they never. stop. hitting.

but RABU JADE??!?? OH BROTHER

*pulls up a chair and sits down unceremoniously*

he hasn’t left my mind ever since i’ve read it. he’s quite literally- a leech.

i’ve been thinking of how poor ol’ reader is gonna get out of the predicament they’re currently facing.

(which i will send another ask about cause oh my god the rot in my brain- it’s festering i tell ya)

i def think that jade had some kind of sick pleasure knowing that he was boiling fingers and the like while reader was right. there.

seconds away from checking the pot. inches away from the last remains of the restaurants last dine-&-dash victim

he could have you find out anytime he likes, ‘darling mind stirring the pot for me?’ ‘darling could you help drain the broth from the pot?’ ‘honey how would you like to help me prep for the day- there’s a bag in the freezer i need you to get’

i can see him biting his lip in some, perverse pleasure, as he watches reader scurry around the kitchen doing her thang. checking the pot right next to his. his breathe hitched when you’re about to unmask his… secret.

but with a little ‘whoops’ and a giggle of ‘wrong pot,’ jade’s heart beats a little faster, his teeth clamps a little harder, a bead of blood on his lip as he has to excuse himself.

i think he lays awake in bed some nights, holding reader tightly as he lets his mind wander. how would reader react? would you get nauseous? would you faint? would you yell at him: if so in despair or anger? would you try calling the cops? would you try calling floyd?- his arms get a little tighter at the thought of you in his twin’s arms.

would you try to convince him you didn’t see anything? would you flinch if he tried touching you.

all these scenarios racing through his head- would you help him?

ahhh maybe he gets so shy thinking about the two of you cooking… with love. yes you do it already but this is a different kind of intimacy 🙈

but i also don’t think he was ready for the day to actually come- much rather fantasize about your reactions. because they’re just that- fantasizes

after all, every couple has their secrets. and a bit of mystery always spices up things a bit 🙈

so jade seeing reader as stiff as a brick while in front of his pot had a different kind of thumping in his chest.

(imagine reader trying to distract him with the pregnancy test they tried slipping in the pot HHAHAXHAHA- don’t reader put it in a 2 sealed plastic baggys cause they have a 3 star standard to uphold!!)

YAY!!

ALSO I JDUT SAW ANGELS OF TOBET GOT POSTED SO LEMME JUST SCURRY OVER TO THERE😸😸

Phantom anon, hi hiii!! ⸜(｡ ˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Oh, RABU Jade...... he really does have all sorts of twisted fantasies. >_< you have no other choice but to continue loving him, for he's your darling husband. But the fingers in the pot and Jade's secret are second to the biggest news: your pregnancy!!! <3 aaaa Jade's just so happy. Maybe he promises not to harvest anymore special ingredients so it won't stress you and the baby out. But if you find yourself craving that yummy bone broth with its dubious ingredients, who is he to deny you?

You're definitely going to have to reevaluate your husband after discovering this hidden side. ^^;;; confiding in someone else is dangerous because you have no idea what he might do to them, especially if that person is Detective Ashengrotto. ;;;;; maybe Floyd might have some advice.... :)

AAAAAA OTL I just love RABU Jade!! He's so devious.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

It's Just An Arrangement (Part 4): Ran Haitnai x Fem!Reader

wc: 986

tw: violence, nudity, illness

masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Finale

The space is so quiet.

Everything is always quiet. Except, of course, when you're retching, heaving, and trying to find something to wipe your mouth with in the middle of the... night? Day?

You've lost track of time, and a flood of other emotions came with that fact. What if five days had already passed? What if Ran wasn't looking for you? What if... What if you were stuck here and you'd never see the light of day again?

Your stomach roils at the thoughts, and you lean over the side of the bed, tears springing to your eyes as nothing but bile comes up. You'd been deathly sick for the past few... whatever, despite consuming the meager offerings of fruit, bread, and water. Nothing but homesickness would make you feel this way.

But at night, you imagined Ran's warm embrace, the feeling of his skin against yours, the times he'd offered you a smile of some sort... You whimper, trying not to let the idea of your husband overcrowd your already hazy mind. You just need to focus on staying alive for as long as possible.

Metal scrapes against metal, and you cower, instinctively hiding from the man who always arrives directly after the sound.

"It reeks in here," the man mutters, his face covered. You shrink away from the mess of bile on the floor, allowing him to examine it before looking back up at you. "You smell like piss. And vomit."

Shame settles into your mind, and you can't absolve yourself, even though there's nothing more you can do. You can't even manage to find a source of water other than the one you're supposed to drink. But you say nothing.

"Get up," the man growls, grabbing your arm roughly and hosting you off the sham of a bed. You stumble to your feet and manage to keep up as the man's fingers dig into your weakened arm. Your breath comes in pants and spurts while you're unceremoniously dragged to the entrance, and when the light floods your eyes, you flinch and look away. "Hurry. Up." Fingers dig into your skin again, and you quicken your steps if only to prevent something worse from happening.

Once your vision adjusts, you catch glimpses of furnished rooms that look like a part of a regular home and not a front for the horrors in the basement. You're ushered into a bathroom, and once the door is shut and locked, you watch the man stomp over to the shower at the far end.

"Get out of those clothes." Obediently you immediately strip down to nothing, now shivering in the chilly air. The shower is turned on with a knob, and in your wildest fantasies, you wish--

Pop pop pop!

The sound of gunshots echoing somewhere in the house makes your body stiffen. The man looks over at you, his confusion and then concern unmasked. "The hell...?"

You have two options. The shower door is opened, and the ma is walking away from it, unholstering his gun. Or... you could run out of the door and towards whoever is shooting downstairs. You could make a run for it. But then what?

Pop! Pop pop pop!

The man sprints past you and out of the bathroom door, and your choice has been made without question. Quickly, you hurry into the shower and feel the heated water cascade over your skin. You'd feel relief if there wasn't the looming fact that someone downstairs isn't supposed to be there, and you're still... a hostage. Gunshots ring out once more, and you cower against the tiled wall, sliding down until you're sitting on the floor of the appliance.

Warm water still splashes down on you as heavy footsteps stomp up the stairs. Muffled shouts get nearer to your location and tears spring to your eyes for the second time today. Your hands shake as the knob on the door jostles, and you squeeze your eyes shut. Whoever it is, you don't want to see them when--

"She's in here!"

Rindou's loud voice catches you off guard, and you look up to see the younger Haitani hurry into the shower and tug you to your feet. Ran comes in seconds later, his face screwed up in concentration. When he sees you, his expression goes from shock to astonishment, and a loud sigh escapes his lips.

You're shivering as you step out of the shower, but Ran grabs a towel and wraps you up, holding you against his chest and cradling you tenderly. "I thought I'd lost you," he murmurs repeatedly, pressing quick kisses to your hair, face, and wet skin. He's panting - and so are you - but nothing could prevent that. "Let's get you out of here."

Ran dutifully carries you out of the house, holding your face against his chest so you don't see anything upsetting.

"How..." you begin as he settles you in his SUV before turning the warm air on and smoothing a hand against your hair. "How did you find me?"

"It didn't take much work," Rindou fills in, his voice stoic. "Sloppy people were at work here." Ran grunts in assent, and you look over at your husband, realizing that he was looking for you and hadn't left you out on your own.

"We'll get you home," Ran whispers, pressing another kiss to your face. "We'll get you cleaned up and you can get some rest."

"You came for me," you reply softly. Ran frowns. "I didn't think--"

"We'll discuss this more when we get home," Ran mutters, looking down at his hands. "For now, I need you to rest." Another kiss is placed against your head before Ran pulls back and walks to the driver's side of the car. He takes your hand and pulls out of the driveway, and you exhale deeply, closing your eyes and leaning back in the seat.

[theamityelf]

A thought just occured about the "Makoto retains his muscle memory of learning aikido pre-tragedy" thing.

What if the person he saved himself from was Junko in the hidden room when she hit him with a bat.

Ohhhh my gosh, that's amazing! ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Makoto realizes a split second early that he is about to be hit on the head, and just in instinctive self-defense, he moves and suddenly the attacker is pinned to the floor, painlessly but securely.

"Whoa! Sorry. Wait, no. Were you about to...? How did I...?"

And Junko can probably use her own hand-to-hand skills to get out of that position, but when she goes running (to avoid being unmasked), Makoto chases her. I'm thinking he has a folder or something from the secret room still in his hand as he runs down the hall after the mysterious masked figure, and the papers fall out of the folder and trip him, but when he trips, the folder itself falls out of his hand and manages to slide across the floor and trip Junko.

Maybe one of their classmates shows up, then, like "What's going on?" and long story short Junko's apprehended and the killing game is basically over, lol. Or maybe Junko has more tricks up her sleeves.

Thinking through every possible outcome, I kind of like the idea of either the killing game unceremoniously ending with a weird dialogue-heavy wind-down where Junko has to just kind of level with them about what happened, or Makoto unmasking Junko in the altercation so that her only recourse is to trap him in the data center with her so he can't tell anyone else. And then it becomes a Naejunko story, lol!

(Junko's acting really girlfriend-y and caring toward Makoto despite the situation, and he's challenging everything she says and does and using what little power he has– being literally tied up –to try to help his friends. Junko taunts Kyoko, through Monokuma, about how she led Makoto to his death.)

[mrs-gauche]

Ok, I'm pretty sure no one actually cares about this and I'm probably *really* overthinking the plot of a very simple comic here, but hey, wild speculations are fun and since there's still a bit of time left until the final volume of The Missing releases at the end of this month, why not write it down just in case there could actually be more to this (or you all get a reason to laugh at me in about two weeks)! 😂

Because for some reason, I just can't stop thinking about the "true identity" of the mysterious "Venatori assassin" that had been stalking Varric and Harding since volume 1...

(...Assuming the person we see here was actually one and the same throughout all these scenes. 👀) But before I go on, just beware of spoilers for the whole comic obviously, but also some stuff about the DA4 reddit leaks from a few weeks ago under the cut! 😁

So, to reiterate real quick, by the end of volume 3, Varric seemed to think that, whatever happened the moment he was almost killed by a Leopard and then heroically saved by a "Venatori assassin", was somehow instigated by none other than Solas himself. First of all, let me start by saying that there's a good chance that none of this actually matters, the guy was simply a cheap plot device to keep readers guessing and we'll never see them again, there won't be any grand revelation about them nor will they play any significant role whatsoever, given that the poor guy, whoever it was, appears to have basically disintegrated because of the strange time-altering magic in the Arlathan Forest after saving Varric from that Leopard and is therefore presumably.. pretty dead now, I guess. lol

Yet, in any case, the way this mystery person had been presented to us throughout all this, almost made it feel like they were setting this person up for something big or some grand unmasking by the end of this comic? 🤔 At least, that's what I thought until the end of volume 3... Which leads me to believe that there’s still a small chance for some sort of surprise in the final volume despite the unceremonious disintegration. lol (Or that’s just wishful thinking...) I kinda already did this in my post on volume 3, but after giving it some more thought, here are all the potential "identities" I consider possible now: 1) What I have come to realize now and what seems to make the most sense actually - and thank you again @thebookworm0001​ for pointing it out to me 😁 -  that it could've simply been one of Solas' agents who was ordered to keep an eye on them throughout this whole journey and to save them in case they got in any dangerous situations. Which would also explain what happened at the end of volume 1, when Varric and Harding found that deepstalker lying dead in front of Solas' hideout, suggesting that this agent had killed it to prevent it from attacking Varric and Harding, saving their life yet again. lol

This could also fit in with some comments I’ve seen, assuming that this pouch thing that the assassin carried in that scene in volume 3 showed the same “Dread Wolf” symbol that was also seen on that wax seal on Solas’ letter.

Though I still think it would be kinda weird for a spy to openly carry a symbol of identification like that? lol But if that’s the case, might I add that Solas’ agents would therefore quite literally be wearing a badge of Pride. (*ba dum tsss*)

2) The guy was actually a real Venatori assassin, but somehow manipulated by Solas to save Varric. 3) The Venatori was Solas himself in disguise. Now, while that IS the most fun scenario to think about, it still just doesn't make much sense to me tbh, because of basically all the reasons I talked about in this post, so I won't bother to elaborate again. 😂 I'll just say that, again, ever since "the Orlesian Bard", anything is possible, so I can't fully outrule it either, I guess. lol (Though in addition to this, I also don't know why Solas wouldn't just kill that Leopard (or the deepstalker in volume 1 for that matter) with a simple spell or something, instead of jumping in and "sacrificing" himself. lol Actually, now that I think about it, it seems a bit suspect now that he also wouldn't interfere when Varric and Harding were being attacked by that Tevinter mage in volume 2?) 4) Varric was simply wrong. lol Solas wasn't involved in this at all, the Venatori was the real deal and this is all actually part of some grand plan by the Venatori to get Varric and Harding to lead them to Solas/the ancient artifacts like the Crucious Stone. Which is why they saved Varric to ensure they made it out of the Arlathan Forest alive to continue their pursuit and use those ancient artifacts for... something not good. lol With the way Varric and Harding were seemingly lead to follow all those (purposefully laid out?) clues, only to end up at this letter telling Varric not to interfere, makes me actually hope that this was all part of the Venatori's schemes, just because I still don't fully understand what the whole purpose of this was then, if Solas was the one behind all this. (Unless his intention was to simply keep the Inquisition distracted or something.) And looking at the blurb for the final volume again, which seems to have Varric and Harding going back to Minrathous because Solas "has been spotted" there, maybe this will all culminate in the Venatori trying to get the Crucious Stone back from him/Solas trying to stop the Venatori from doing something really stupid with yet another ancient artifact (much like what he did with this one Tevinter mage and the red lyrium idol in Tevinter Nights). 5) The person was someone else entirely, neither associated with the Venatori OR Solas! Which brings us to the last and probably my favorite theory (and actually the main reason I even wanted to talk about this again)... What if this mysterious person... is actually the next protagonist? 😂 Hear me out! This comic was marketed to lead directly into DA4 somehow, right? So this should be taken almost like a little (yet ultimately irrelevant) prologue to the main story, right?

It also seems pretty clear by now that the overall purpose of this whole comic is to introduce us to/highlight the four factions (Grey Wardens/Antivan Crows/Veil Jumpers/Tevinter... something) that are probably going to play an important part in DA4's story in some way, or rather the four factions that are likely going to be options to choose for our next protagonist, if we're looking at how those four factions were already presented in concept art/short stories, but also the 2020 teaser, along with Varric's narration talking about how "It's time for a new hero" and "Someone they'll never see coming".

And with this, I'm also looking at the reddit leaks again from a few weeks ago and how "Rook" will apparently be the name/title of our next protagonist. A name that might suggest a spy background (along with everything we know about the first version of DA4 "Joplin" and the ominous "red book" with a rook on its cover), someone who goes by an alias rather than their actual name to operate, like many of the spies we know from DAI. So... when Varric's talking about "a new hero" and "someone they'll never see coming", wouldn't it be so hilarious to have that one mystery person disguised as a Venatori assassin, turn out to be literally the one spy no one saw coming? 😂 Obviously, I have no idea how they would even be involved in all this.. Like, why would they stalk Varric and Harding and why would they even want to save Varric? But who knows, maybe at the end of this comic this person will pop up again in Minrathous, which will segue directly into the start of DA4 when the protagonist will bump into Varric saying "Oh wow, I don't know who you are but you've done an amazing job at spying on me, would you be interested to work for us?" 😂 "Rook, it is? Oh don't worry, you can keep your silly spy name." Or what if Varric will be the one to assign this name to the next protagonist then when he’s recruiting them? After all, Varric IS still a spymaster, right? lol

What kinda speaks against all this though is, for one, that the Venatori assassin was already shown to be of human or elven like stature, which would therefore already "canonize" the next protagonist to be of a certain race, and while BioWare has used their own canon default Hawke/human Inquisitor for promotional stuff before, I don't know if they would do it like this... Also, I can't see BioWare actually have the next protagonist be introduced in a comic/additional media that most people aren't going to read anyway. lol But still, I think it's a lot of fun to think about. 😁

So that's where I'm at. Again, I'm about 99.9% sure that none of this will actually be addressed or matter at all in the final volume and we'll just be left to forever speculate who the mysterious no name was who saved Varric's life. lol

If anything, thank you mystery person for saving our favorite dwarf (unless it was actually you Solas, in which case, shame on you for even getting Varric in a situation like this in the first place. 😂)

[lilithfairen]

I didn't bother doing a post on the previous episode of Fixing RWBY, but I can sum it up in two points:

Celtic Phoenix at one point makes a (pretty witty) joke about Pyrrha's bedroom being "spartan" in style. This is then ruined by him saying that he can't make many jokes because he's "streamlining" the volume. This is said during an episode of events that are entirely of his own creation and do absolutely nothing to further the plot whatsoever, continuing this trend of grinding the plot to a complete halt in Argus.

The episode focuses on JNR and Roman/Neo, and highlights the fact that Celtic Phoenix doesn't write groups of friends as squabbling assholes who can't get along for five seconds when those groups don't consist of multiple women. (Reminder: Celtic Phoenix added wholly-unnecessary and stupid drama between Nora and Pyrrha in his rewrite of the Beacon arc, creating hostility specifically and solely between the two women of Team JNPR.)

Now that we've gone through that, Episode 17 is about Team RWBY trying to get their friendship back on track! Because remember, streamlining! (Also this entire arc of Team RWBY being Women Can't Get Along is entirely of this misogynistic asshole's creation.)

Anyway, Ruby starts off by talking about how much fun she had with Team RNJR, continuing the trend of Ruby treating RNJR as more of her Real Team than RWBY. Ruby decides they'll all go to the beach!

Except it's freezing out, as the others point out.

Celtic Phoenix really has This Thing for writing the main protagonist of a series focused on female characters as a complete fucking idiot, and I have a solid idea why.

Anyway, afterwards they go to a cafe to warm Ruby up. Weiss whines about Yang drinking her tea hot, because again, Celtic Phoenix being a stupid fucking misogynist. Weiss offers to pay, but then passes the bill to Ruby, and somehow a bunch of drinks at a cafe are super expensive. This makes total sense.

Ruby then says that they can't go shopping afterwards then, so they go to a nightclub. In the middle of the day, when it's empty. Ruby messes up her dance and hurts herself, which makes all of her friends laugh at her(!!!). Yang calls Ruby "Rubes", which makes it even less subtle that Celtic Phoenix ripped off plot details from Volume 9 for his shitty rewrite.

They have a good time, and mock Weiss for not being able to dance(!!!). Somehow Ruby thought their day went poorly, probably because her friends haven't stopped being Women Can't Get Along. But then there's an alert from Cordovin!

They race over to find a bunch of Grimm having broken through the wall, plus a bunch of sliced-up soldiers and Huntsmen. Guess who, it's Adam! So Team RWBY run away from him on their vehicles.

Yes. Because literally the only fucking way Celtic Phoenix can make Adam intimidating is to treat the main heroines of the show as being utterly helpless against him.

And Adam chases after them. On foot, jumping from car to car. Their plan is to lure him to the military base. There's a fight scene, Adam gets unmasked and Weiss is made to care about this psycho piece of shit Celtic Phoenix wants you to care, he then kicks everyone's ass, and then he gets unceremoniously taken out by Cordovin with a cattle prod.

Really.

So, let us repeat: This guy who is so badass that Team RWBY flees in terror at the sight of him and is so badass that he can 1v4 them has been effortlessly taken out by

one drunk guy

one little old lady

But our protagonists aren't allowed to stand a chance against him.

Probably because they aren't a.) military, written by an alt-right POS or b.) men, written by a misogynistic POS.

And all of this is so desperate to make Adam this unstoppable hyper-badass who's so psychopathic and yet somehow you should feel empathy for him because his mom was abused. Celtic Phoenix so desperately wants Adam to be a badass that he proceeds to write him as an entirely uninteresting and pathetic antagonist. He just shows up to be an asshole, that's literally it. If Celtic Phoenix thinks Adam is somehow sympathetic by letting a swarm of monsters into an inhabited city, then Celtic Phoenix himself might very well be a psychopath too.

Volume 6 knew well enough to leave Adam until the end, because it understood tension and drama. It understood that Adam was a terrifying antagonist not because he was more powerful than Team RWBY combined, but because of the kind of hateful, abusive, obsessed psychopath he was. It allowed him to appear at the most dramatic moment possible, ambushing Blake when she was solo and vulnerable. He was pathetic as a person, yet terrifying in his desperation to harm and abuse Blake and Yang, and being strong in the ways Adam was weak was how Blake and Yang overcame him.

Here? Adam is a boring psycho who just shows up whenever Celtic Phoenix wants him to, everyone acts like he's the most badass person in existence, the titular heroines are reduced to helplessness in order to make him look threatening, and then he gets his ass kicked in the most anticlimactic, unfulfilling manner possible.

Because Celtic Phoenix is an incredibly shitty writer.

[can-of-pringles]

Ok now you've got me thinking about those crack-y OC lore things, I don't have the editing skills to make one but here's like... my "script" for one of Gia:

*image of a medical office*

Doctor: hello and welcome to uhhhhh our medical study on cancer. what brings you here?

Gia: hi i have a Noble Cause my sister died of cancer 3 years ago and i want to help stop things like that from happening

Doctor: wonderful. come back to my Totally Not A Hoax medical room

*Scooby-Doo criminal unmasking*

Doctor: Aha it was a trick! This is HYDRA! Time to trap you and experiment on you because OSHA doesn't exist here

Gia: oh noooooo!!

*dramatic fizzle/fade/sway like a shitty Powerpoint presentation, or when characters fall asleep in B-movies*

Doctor: we're gonna take your life force out of your body. *hyperrealistic hands reach towards Gia and pull out something that just says "IDK SOUL I GUESS" in either Comic Sans or one of those Microsoft Word title fonts*

Doctor: now it's in this clover (*the same hyperrealistic hands carry the "soul" to a stock image of a four-leaf clover*) bc we didn't really think about where we were gonna put it when we took it out

Gia: Ow! Existential crisis! I can't really die anymore! Am I even human? Does this make me immortal? I have so many questions and I don't know what to-

Doctor: hey have you read Misery? The book not the movie

Gia: No why

Doctor: No reason

*stock image of an axe comes spinning in, unceremoniously chops off Gia's left leg at the knee, then both the axe and leg spin back out of the frame*

*TV static/"lost connection" scene just reading "this is all she remembers because of ~trauma~"*

*image of a run-down building in the middle of the city*

Gia: oh well I'm out of HYDRA now and my soul is still bound to this shitty little pot of clover so I guess I need to open a flower shop now.

*long pause*

Gia: also I might be clinically depressed

*another long pause*

Gia: well back to the flower shop

*magic wand floats in, waves a little spell, and with a cartoony "pop!", the desolate building becomes a small flower shop instead.*

Gia: I'm so glad I can pretend HYDRA never happened. Well except that I'm so anxious I can't leave the house and I think I have PTSD and also I'm still missing a leg. but I have a bird now *stock image of a blue-and-white budgie spins in and lands on her shoulder*

*doorbell chimes*

Kate Bishop: hello I'm here to pick up some flowers for my Avenger friend. purple please.

*romantic music, emoji hearts surround Kate, like a Looney Tunes character falling in love*

Gia: marry me. I mean here are your flowers *bouquet of violets passes from Gia to Kate*

Kate: oh by the way do you want to Not Be Afraid Of Life Anymore?

Gia: not right now but maybe if you keep whittling me down over the course of several months I'll change my mind

Kate: great I'll see you thursday

*closing music? or some other cheesy way to end it idk*

Omg I see it so clearly it's a masterpiece

'Doctor: we're gonna take your life force out of your body. *hyperrealistic hands reach towards Gia and pull out something that just says "IDK SOUL I GUESS" in either Comic Sans or one of those Microsoft Word title fonts*'

THE HYPERREALISTIC HANDS GOT ME

'*stock image of an axe comes spinning in, unceremoniously chops off Gia's left leg at the knee, then both the axe and leg spin back out of the frame*'

THE SPINNING AXE AND LEGS?! Fantastic I need 14 of 'em

'*long pause*

Gia: also I might be clinically depressed

*another long pause*

Gia: well back to the flower shop'

Gia... girl 😭 you need some cricket sounds or something in the pauses and then happy music when she mentions the flower shop like nothing just happened

'Gia: I'm so glad I can pretend HYDRA never happened. Well except that I'm so anxious I can't leave the house and I think I have PTSD and also I'm still missing a leg. but I have a bird now *stock image of a blue-and-white budgie spins in and lands on her shoulder*'

THE BUDGIE SPINNING-

[immoralimmortals]

A Song With Ten Names

Chapter 33: Yes, to Err is Human, So Don't Be One (4)

Chapter 1 ☆ Next chapter ☆ AO3 ☆ Featured song playlist

Summary of chapter: Neither the girl nor the Akatsuki would call themselves gamblers…yet here they are. Half of Zetsu’s been playing the long con all his life, and the other’s just here for the ride and the thrill of it. What sort of combination does that make when you shuffle the cards and put chips on the table?

Author's Note: The song for the title and breaks is Yes, to Err is Human, So Don't Be One by Will Wood. The song sung within the chapter is Black Mambo by Glass Animals.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

We only ever notice what's in front of us

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

There’s a slight twinge as the rag doll’s stitches resettle with the changing position, this shifting of the skin that encases thinly-threaded metal and his menagerie of human organs. The weather is surprisingly pleasant, enough so that he tugs at his headpiece till it pulls off, hair allowed be combed by the breeze. The ghost of her fingers is in the wind; it only happened the one time, but he can still feel her there, on his lap, like it was yesterday. Gemstone eyes close, concentrating on the sensation, wondering if to indulge is without sin—

“Oh. Huh.”

…Eyes open. Hidan stands over him, holding two plates, one in either hand. The dying maples arrange a red behind his shoulders from this angle, complimentary to the lining of his cloak that gets to show off, unlike how Kakuzu tightly closes his own collar to hide as much of him as possible. The older man must appear annoyed, as Hidan ends up excusing his own stare.

“Didn’t expect ya with yer hair down,” he says, twinge of caution in the back of his throat. “Usually save that for the inns or somethin’.” The threaded man just shrugs, reaching up to take his lunch from the reaper who so generously walked the five feet inside and back to deliver it to him. Hidan blinks at his quiet, awfully curious of this strange mood. “Just...felt like it?”

Plate balanced on his lap and mask unceremoniously pulled down, a “yeah” is mumbled before chopsticks bring a slice of ankimo between his teeth to chew. He, however, shortly adds a questioning hum even with his mouth still full, once the younger man’s dish gets level with his gaze. “The hell is that…?”

Now lowered to sit upon the restaurant’s porch, too, the skeleton reaper gives an angry, accused grunt. “What!” Violet-pink eyes shift back and forth with several self-conscious blinks. “Wanted to...try something new.”

How hypocritical, then, to judge the rag doll for the same. Kakuzu ogles the tuna sashimi. “...You hate fish,” he states confidently.

“Yeah? And?”

Kakuzu lets his silence speak for him. Pink tinges Hidan’s cheeks, fluttering lids continuing to attempt to brush off his partner’s scrutiny, though now at least attempting confidence by locking pupils onto red and green.

“...I guess I just. Wanted to see why she likes it.” And the silence continues. What else is there for Hidan to do besides get guarded? “What, you don’t have room in all those hearts for someone else? Bitch?”

…Kakuzu begins to grin.

“What?”

Then Kakuzu begins to chuckle.

“What?!” The chuckling continues, unexplained. Hidan’s face heats. “What?!”

The unmasked man takes a gamble. “You’re awfully cute when you get red like that.”

“KAKUZU!” A few crimson leaves fall a couple hours sooner than planned, rattled with the volume of a man doubly embarrassed.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Read over my shoulder, breathing down my neck

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

How far the woman has come in a matter of days. The keys of the piano not only ring out so much more easily under her touch, but she— using a skill impossible prior— can now watch and instruct someone else on how to follow her lead. Deidara sits next to her, spot where Sasori was before, drinking in her advice on how to arch his wrists and what notes sound best when played together. It’s so adorable how his tongue sticks out, just a little bit like when he’s working on his clay.

His visible eye glances back to her not once but twice, and she realizes she herself has a big, dumb smile on her face. The glance is mirrored, her looking away and looking back, smile shrinking a bit.

“Caught you looking at me instead of the keys, un.”

And now she’s bright pink to match the new broach at her neck.

“Sorry. I just...noticed that thing you do.” She interrupts herself, but the mistake has already been made; Deidara hums at her questioningly. “With...your tongue?”

“What thing?”

Oh god, he doesn't know, does he...? You gotta be kidding. “You stick it out when you’re concentrating.”

Now he’s rosy too. “I do not!” He absolutely does and he knows it.

“I—” Well...facts are facts, but to insult with telling the truth ain't fun, either... “—Sorry.”

“No, no" the blonde interrupts, removing his hands from the keys; they seem to grin with either anxiety, tension, or excitement. "Don’t back up! We’re arguing now, Takara-chan,” he says deviously, and it reminds her of when he asked her to pinpoint exactly why she likes stories about alienation. Deidara glances to make sure his fingers are poised above the correct notes, waiting to turn his glance back onto her accusingly before pressing a particularly dramatic chord. Drama queen. “What do you mean I stick my tongue out when I’m concentrating?”

Taken aback, all his tutor can do is blink and stutter. “That...you...do?” The chord is pressed again, twice as if trying to provide a sense of menace.

“Is that all you got?”

“I— yes!" the woman counters, and though her brow curls, she is most certainly grinning just like the mouths centering his palms. "Deidara…there isn’t really more I can say! I just see you do it!” A pause...oh. Maybe...she misunderstood his tone. Apologetically, her next words come much softer. “I...don’t mean to embarrass you.”

“You’re not,” he answers reflexively, though most certainly he is. Gosh...it's like she can't so much as be excited without feeling bad. Good thing he's here to train her out of it. “But the consideration is...appreciated. Now..." The man reposes, wrists lifted and ready to continue to something that makes her a bit more happy. "...Where were we?”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Are we on the same page yet? I'm getting old here

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“So...what then?”

The rain is heavy as usual, steeping the most mysterious hidden village of all in swathing cold and humidity. It’s a dreary, uncomfortable combination, but it is a necessary one. To cease the rain is to lower Amegakure’s guard, and it needs it now more than ever. The sky is blue-grey and dark, lanterns like round phantoms, floating in the darkness to guide the way of the God's chosen people. The leader of the Akatsuki stands at the mouth of his visage, a statue with a long, slender tongue with a lamp at the end, just out of touch of actual drops so he is instead misted by the minuscule particles that come from impact upon stone and brick. His orange hair is quite a contrast to the gloom, almost like a candle to light up the dark. Uchiha Madara is seated, this persona lacking any of the whimsy or bounce that his newly beloved Takara is so accustomed to. It's quite a pair, him and Nagato, who appears so much more meek if you get around his real body.

“I’ll repeat myself,” the masked man says in a much deeper voice. This conversation has gone in circles, and everyone here knows it. “You live with us.”

A blue-haired woman narrows her gaze, glancing over her shoulder as she too faces the village she protects. The way the holy people refuse to even turn their chests away from the entrance...it really has been an uphill battle convincing them to let go. “We still fail to see the benefit of this.” But to that, the true leader cocks his head coyly, confident enough to let a bit of the playfulness seep back through.

“But don’t you?”

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The rain collects on the edge of the cave's mouth, splashing just next to shinobi sandals. Pain frowns just a little bit harder, those eyes of his with rings within somehow piercing even with no pupil to keep a focus. Ah yes, he does, the Uchiha notes. Finally starting to crack. The man with fiery hair has one last line of defense, one who uses her calm voice to insist one more time:

“If we change residency...what would that accomplish?" Konan requires upfront. "This is our village. We are needed here.”

...A black glove is brought to press where his heart should be, feigning hurt. “I thought you were dedicated as I am to getting to the bottom of this,” “Madara” returns; the hand lowers to join the other, both now steepling his fingers at the tips. “Leave one of your paths here, increase surveillance.” As if that’s even possible. “Come back with me. We’ll make a solved puzzle of her yet.” Another pin is plunged in to seal the deal. "Besides...it's looking more and more like your diplomacy skills are needed for our little...problem."

The sound of rainfall hushes any further argument from the godly man. His angel glances to him, evaluating with irises that although are really orange, too, now glisten closer to gold in this bluish hue, paled with the eternal twilight her village lives within. She sees the way his heart is being tugged; she sees it because she feels the same curiosity within herself. But her friend...is a god. Will he decide if to follow this request is the necessary thing to do, or will it merely be an indulgence to avoid...?

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

“Well?” the spiral prods.

…

The purple all-seeing orbits are shut, the Deva Path choosing to close his eyes to create agreement rather than admit his true subordination. “...We’ll arrange for our arrival.”

And to Obito’s satisfaction, he’ll make a dollhouse for his dear performer yet, every human being at his disposal a toy for her to play around and feel special, replicate the perfect life he wants for everyone— that he will make into reality someday. The woman draws in flawed creatures like the moon does moths at night. It is destiny that a girl from outer space is here to match his plan to save the world. He will get to learn, at least a little bit more, what it really means to make a universe worthy for others to live in.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Come on, don't you get it? What the heck?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A few minutes later and he's across the continent, silly voice returned and his arms swinging wildly with the unexpected gift he's come back to. What a wonderful thing to return to, it nearly makes him like being alive. “W-w-w-WOW!” He double takes with a twist of his neck sharp enough to break a spine, and as Tobi dips down to so very visibly trace his stare from her feet to her face, he revels in how flustered the fellow performer gets. With an emphasized giggle, gloved hands pick up the ends of her cape. “You look so CUTE, Takara-chan!” More than cute, but he’s Tobi now, and Tobi doesn’t know how to say things like “marvelous” and “regal” and “magnificent.” So cute it is. It makes her fumble and blush regardless.

“You...you really think so?” She twists just a little bit, side to side with her hands folded in front of her lap and a shy gaze looking away though a smile is plastered underneath it. Tobi, her fool, nods in enthusiasm.

“Uhuh!" The masked man looks up at her from his hunched position, having gripped edges of the moody black fabric so it looks like a bonnet around his head. "Did Sasori-senpai make it for you?”

She blinks with her eyes so beautifully, so wide like the stars could fit inside. “How’d you know…?”

“Becauuuuse!” he draws out. Because he knows everything. “I told you he likes dolls! And I told you he likes it when things are pretty! And now you are too!”

...

Her silence puts a pit in his chest. Oh, dammit. He’s implied that she wasn’t before. Too late to backtrack, though; the imperfections of Tobi are a necessity to maintain, however rude and guileless. And so he must watch her growing disappointment, the way the edges of her lips— wait. No. She isn’t...sad about that? She's starting to smile! He tilts his head, a bit more sincerely this time, but no different angles will change what’s in front of him. She is, in fact, happy to have become pretty. A sweet voice rings for Obito to hear:

“Awfully nice of him,” she understates, worried about making such a potentially dangerous man jealous. Tobi and Sasori alike...she has no idea what boundaries there are to step around, what Tobi meant by “protect” before and what the puppeteer intends by beautifying her. Relax your praise, lest the masked man think something is wrong. But she has no reason to worry... Her joy is Obito’s joy, now. And he tells her so:

“You’re worth it!”

A boop of her nose and Tobi runs away, lest his metaphorical heart explode in his chest, leaving a confused, naive woman to flutter her lashes and wonder what that means, too.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Oh, I could drink your blood

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The setting sun warms the dark cloaks, the clouds upon them now appropriately themed for the ones in the heavens above. Hidan exhales, tugging the ends up his collar in a flick. Getting fuckin' cold... But even so, usually the reaper doesn't fidget so much; it's the third time he's done that since the home base got in sight. Kakuzu furrows his brow.

“...It isn’t like you to be nervous.” A pause...and then some doubt. Kakuzu tilts his head more into Hidan's space as they stand on the front porch of the house, trying to gauge him more accurately past the gleaming red light. “Right?”

The skeleton spits to the side; this empathy his partner has shown the past few days has been...bizarre. Out of place enough to make him uncomfortable. He won't admit it, but Hidan's still a bit tender from that period of time...the one where he found out in the desert what Kakuzu did to her, the way the rag doll couldn't so much as communicate, save them some fucking stress. Anything approaching emotionality with Kakuzu makes Hidan antsy now. “Why would you care?”

Well. Damn. There goes Kakuzu thinking just because he can get along with one person that he can with another. Fuck him, I guess. His eyes narrow and he tilts his head further down. This, of course, just confuses Hidan even more.

“Why are you so fucking weird today!” he demands.

...And then it hits the old man. His green irises roll down to stare at the bottom crack of the front door. Perhaps he has felt a bit...light. A bit more...vocal. He has good reason, of course, but... ah hell. How do you tell someone as thick-skulled as Hidan that you just had your first kiss in decades? Whatsmore...won’t it just piss him off to know? Clearly he has ideas of his own. Didn’t take too kindly to being called “cute” too, so it’s probably not like they can share… He just shouldn’t have said anything, taken his own advice that keeping your mouth shut when you aren’t sure— that is the best thing you can do.

Hidan raises one brow with an upturning, impatient hum, observing his fellow immortal become silent with rage— wait. Blink, blink. No. The anger he’s so familiar with is absent. It’s something more pensive… Yeah. Pensive... His mouth opens to ask, perhaps in a tone more kind, but his head darts back to the door—

Creaaaak.

And just like that, Hidan is abruptly confronted with the fear that Kakuzu so keenly spotted:

There she is, fingers curled around the edge, big, big eyes he could get lost in. It's all he can see, unable to read body language, even see if she smiles. He swallows. Tentatively, slowly, his arms come forward, hers to do with as she wishes, just in case walking into him is all the lady can muster. “Heyyy. Takara.” he greets awkwardly. The corner of his mouth pulls up but shrinks as soon as he doesn’t give it conscious attention. Will she? Won’t she? Will it be like their first reunion— so warm and welcome— or their last? Will she ever hug him once again?

…

Oh, silly Hidan; he had no reason to worry. The door pulls open and just as he stutters— witnessing her new attire— his words are cut off with a small “oof” from his own throat. Her arms are thrown around him. And just like the first time they said goodbye, when this building was so much worse, he doesn’t know what to do. He freezes. And then...slowly...one Jashinist melts into another. The man's head turns down and his nose finds home in her hair. She smells like...— He doesn’t fucking know. Something nice. It’s more likely he’s gonna find smells that remind him of her than the other way around. Everything reminds him of her, after all.

She drifts away and he watches something incredible: she goes to hug Kakuzu and he...lets her. And...holy shit. Hidan's eyes widen as his partner hugs her back.

Abruptly, something in Hidan feels a bit more full. A second later, the woman's stepped back, big grin on her face and Kakuzu's hands still in hers, a slight swing in her arms with residual delight. Is she even the same person they saw a few days ago...?

“You guys came just in time!” She winks. Indeed, her voice didn't even stutter. “I taught Deidara a song!”

Okay, now that's just too many fucking things at once. Hidan holds his palms up for a pause, pursing his lips and narrowing his stare. “Hold up— first off—” He points, index finger gesturing up and down. “What is this?!”

“I— oh!” She’s beaming; still quiet, but she kind of always was before. What matters is that she looks...happy. “I got a new dress!”

He tsks. “Obviously! I mean—” ...No, that’s kind of all there is too it; she got a new dress. ...Let’s move on to the second thing: “Okay. Song. Song?" Hidan asks skeptically, folding his arms. "You taught him a song?! What, ya making a band?”

“Nooo!” God, she’s sounding more and more like Tobi, trailing her words like that. For the love of Jashin, angel, don't go learning anything from fucking Tobi! Oblivious to psychic pleas, the performer's hands let go and hide behind her back. The way she rocks back and forth is bordering on too cutesy. “Just...he got interested in trying a new art.” Ah, that puts a click in Hidan's brain; his mental tone for the situation is suddenly more like hers, having something to be proud of.

“Well, well! It’s about time someone recognized this girly had some talent.” He claps her back, causing her to give her own small "oof", though smile does not waiver. Briefly both eyes are closed...but she cracks one open at her friends.

“There's...something you should know, though.”

“Yeah?”

And now it is clear that the wink has returned, distinctly devilish. “He doesn’t know he’ll have an audience.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

If you let me, baby

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“W— Takara-chan?!” The blonde flusters, watching as both the named woman and the one and only Tobi have finished dragging in Sasori and the zombies. What the shit is happening?! “You didn’t tell me this would be a recital, un!” God... he can feel the way Sasori stares at him, judging already like his posture at the piano alone is worth killing him for. He asked for lessons to impress, dammit, not to be a laughing stock! But the lady looks so happy, her smile so wide...what, is she really evil? Maybe he WAS right, she’s not all sugar and sweets after all, subjecting him to this. Hidan smirks in a way only he can as he finishes following his fellow immortal in— so very, very callous.

“What, you gonna pussy out of this?”

Deidara's response is all instinct: “What?! NO! It’s just…” His brow furrows; logical, be more logical, save at least a bit of face. “I only started learning today… I figure it’ll be a frankly boring performance." He turns to his tormentor, looking her up and down for any sign of mercy or lack thereof. "Wouldn’t it be, Takara-chan?”

But she shakes her head, looking so delighted with her eyes closed, perhaps to hide her true, devious expression. “No..." she sing-songs, "I think you’re ready.” Eyes open; they look sincere, at least… “Just...trust me?”

And despite how his visible, blue stare narrows, Deidara hunched over the piano must at least attempt to maintain his cool, lest he look like even more of an idiot than he already is does. “Alright." The facade drops, mono-e-mono spoken from one artist to another: "You got one shot, siren.”

...

She doesn't flinch, not a fucking bit. Just keeps that smile, so persistent it either means something wonderful or that she's hung a sword right above his head, waiting to fall.

...The pianist wannabe sighs. There's no choice, is there? And though verbally or otherwise each other man present questions what that nickname is, Deidara himself can only take a breath and press the keys as red dusk glimmers through window glass and over nervous hands.

...Dum. Dum-dum-dum. Ding. Dum. Dum-dum-dum. Din. Dum—

It really is a rather simple tune, a thruplet of beats with two notes in between that alternate pitch. It’s nice yeah...but childish. Childish on its own. He doesn’t notice the siren approach until she starts using the top of the piano as an impromptu drum. Her lips part, smooth and soft and so very, very cool:

"What’ll it be now, Mr. Mole?"

Whispers Sloth in curls of smoke

His instinct is to jolt up— and he almost does— but he catches himself in time to stop his body...though not his twitchy glance. Her eyes are hooded, in this new dress of hers, she looks...frankly, seductive. The smile on her face remains, though its meaning is yet again questioned. Deidara blinks up at her, persistent to keep tempo despite a distracted mind.

"Take a back seat, or play pharaoh

Dance with me and shake your bones"

Her eyes close and with a rhythm in her shoulders, she drifts from drumming (Tobi has inexplicably taken over the role; bastards fucking planned this—?!), and she reaches her hand forward to no one like she’s on stage. Fingers curl like whiffs of incense, gradual and sensual. Kakuzu notes that back when she performed for cash, her arms were always full; the grace she displays is rather...admirable. The broach is unbuttoned and the cape is allowed to fall down her shoulders, draping more like a boa down her arms with spare length of the fabric dangling down towards the floor. It swishes with every...single...movement, no matter how small— especially with how small. Masterful...precise...—

Shame her manager didn’t know how to play the piano himself, back when she had a larger audience. She drifts now, slowly swinging her hips and raising her arms over her head. Was she always this lost in her own universe, each time she sang before with a guitar? Was the barstool and an instrument all that was trapping the woman from being like this...?

Slow down, it’s a science

He’s been waiting to bring you down

Snake eyed with a sly smile

—A thumb and index finger mime stretching the corners of her mouth across her face—

He can hold you and shake you, child

She’s come a long way in just a couple of days. In her head alone she hears an interlude coming, and so she swings around to Deidara’s side, raising a palm to ask him to pause. He does, allowing her to lean onto the piano and reach over to enter the nine-note in-between of the chorus and verse two, repeated a few times before the metronome inside her is satisfied. She nods at him in thanks, wavering her hands with the palms facing down to indicate shyly he can keep going as before. The switch is back on for the show to continue, and the woman then stands tall again, chin raised as she tells a story of sorts. The sky is a beautiful shade of crimson behind her as she stands in front of the window, looking either like an angel or an omen. She looks so lovely all the same.

The title of the song is snuck in and the chorus begins anew. Once finished, she uses the instrumental, this time, to so eagerly explain her thoughts:

“It’s about gambling,” she elaborates, opening her eyes and glancing over her shoulder at them; it really is like a turn of a dime she goes from someone so confident to...well...herself. As such, she can't resist telling them exactly what is so neat about this song. “A mole trying to win against a sloth, but he’s on the sloth’s territory. He’s teasing the mole about how he can’t win. ...Wait. Listen— listen to this next part—” And just like that, she reenters the zone, a roll in her shoulders and tangling her cape around her wrists in such a way that Sasori is more than pleased that his effort is paying dividends.

"Wanna play cheat now?" says the sloth

A domino flush to his nose

Tickle that cheek and take your throne

Pump your veins with gushing gold

She has forgotten so soon she’s made a few dangerous bets of her own. It has started to become dark outside, and she doesn't see what's been waiting out there, just for her. Who has seen her dance...just for him.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Drain you of your love

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Everyone, bar Kisame and Itachi, spends the evening with her.

The performer finishes a giggle before putting the piping hot cup of tea to her lips, herself seated on the floor. The new clothing is so elegant that even in such a graceless position, it puddles around her like it was made to be bundled in such a way, crinkle in a circle like the wrappings of a floral bouquet. Sasori mentally notes how he has, indeed, perfected yet another form of art, holding his own cup as he sits on the arm of the couch. He won’t drink it, no...but there’s a sort of ritual in seeing the steam rise up.

“So...Takara-chan,” Deidara prods, feeling a bit more confident himself after seeing how the level in her cup has, indeed, become lower. “Tell me again about the kind of stories you like.” He asks again now because of the audience, of course; if she subjects him to public opinion, so must he do to her. If she has opinions, they're worth having in front of others. It's not like she's stupid, after all, and maybe he and her and Sasori can actually teach the zombies a thing or two about the more refined things in life. And besides...he actually has been meaning to ask for a while, and it’s only just now she’s really found her tongue again.

Though perhaps she is even better at talking than before.

She hums, thinking with a finger to tap her cheek as a Hidan in the background crosses one leg over the other and props his chin up with his palm, lips pursing. She’s still smiling, the reaper notes, but she’s dodging the question; he can see it in her eyes before her voice confirms. “I...I don’t think you guys would like the kind of stories I like...”

“Why?” the scorpion pokes before anyone else can; coming from him, you know he genuinely is curious if he’ll ask you to elaborate. But ignoring the oh-so-rare blessing, she just flutters her lashes.

“I— Well—” The smile is gone. Let's get that back, thinks the next man to talk:

“I bet it’s mushy gushy!” Tobi butts in, playing into the situation with a flippant wave of his hand. “Takara-chan likes cute things! Sooo, she must think we don’t like cute stories!” ...Damn. He’s got a point there, so others begin to guess:

“What?" Hidan blinks, cocking his head so he looks through the corner of his eye. "You think it’s too sappy?”

A chuckle. “Too romantic?” Deidara teases.

And an ever so slight smirk. “Perhaps there’s an unearned happy ending…” Sasori suggests.

Kakuzu...has a decent idea, and they’re all absolutely dead wrong. She does, after all, like nonfiction so very much...and what does nonfiction tend to have so much of? Her smile is so sweet, even as she’s about to say the truth.

“No… It’s...the ones that don’t have happy endings at all," the performer confesses, so quiet like she's admitting sin; she shrinks into her shoulders, holding the cup of tea to her chest and letting its warm swathe her, like it can make the shame go away. They're her friends...she has to trust they'll understand, right? "...People don’t like to hear about those.” At least not in her prior experience.

And everyone besides the rag doll blinks in surprise. Seconds pas...and she begins to shy away now not in a literal sense but in a way he has seen her do before at the bar: she covers up her embarrassment with a persona who grins like nothing hurts. Gathering all her strength, the woman begins to look up again, deciding to focus on the blank, black darkness outside with so many faces to choose from.

“Think about the song I told you guys. I’ll explain it from the top." 

One by one, the men present begin to settle into what's to come. Deidara does his signature grunt; Sasori blinks his dull brown eyes; Hidan shifts once again in his seat and purses his lips even more; Kakuzu feels a corner of his mouth stretch. And Tobi sits so very patiently, gripping his feet with his hands as he sits in the corner.

"One character is a mole, and it comes down into the lair of a sloth," she narrates, making sure to take her time in order to lead where their imagination should follow, "Deep deep in the jungle to play a game of dominoes.” Do they have dominoes…? They don’t ask in time for her to explain, which is probably for the best. “The sloth is a kingpin, encasing the mole and him in this grand, intimate throne room where no one can hear you scream. Leopards laze everywhere, appearing asleep but paws twitching as if they’re ready to slice the mole open any second...at any suggestion, valid or not. The sloth smiles and accuses the mole of cheating...”

She lets the situation sink in before asking the big question:

“So...is there a way out?" Turns out to be more of a metaphorical proposal, a puzzle to solve, rather than having a clear cut answer. "Either the mole will lose or he’ll get too excitable: either argue too much about the accusation and give the leopards an excuse to attack...or he will win. Calmly. But what...then? What stops the sloth from just...killing him?”

An inhale sinks through her nose and down her chest, and she closes her eyes and hears the animals outside; it’s no jungle, per say, but the forest around her new home is stories and stories deep with life, waiting to eat or be eaten. She sings under her breath, once again, the final lines of the song. It's much more poignant now that it's only words to hear, no luscious, enrapturing tune:

We can hold you

We can hold you

We can hold you

We can hold you

There’s something funny about this, innocent little civilian surrounded by the most deadly creatures on the planet; sort of matches the lyrics, really. The point is sufficiently proven: there is no happy ending for the mole. But that doesn’t really answer the question...

“So..." someone asks after indulging the sound of crickets for too long, "Why indulge in these kinds of stories...un?”

A quiet. It’s such a thick, velvety night outside, the kind where if you were out there and stretched your arm out, you couldn't see your fingertips. She looks out the window of the piano room but the stars are again covered up, the only shapes seen ones of nature— branches and leaves and the rolling wind. There is no answer in there, but she still stares as if it’ll walk right up and explain for her.

...And for one last time this evening, this woman closes her eyes and sighs. What a strange, wistful girl. Oh well.

“Sometimes it’s not about the ending, but the journey to get there.”

And though this sounds so typically dreamy and vague to everyone else... Kakuzu, unfortunately and once again, knows better. It makes his five hearts ache, if she’s told him the truth that time at the end of summer, laying under the stars he taught her to read, smell of lakewater stagnating his lungs. Her story didn't have a happy ending, after all.

…

…

He’s wrong, though, that no one else here to witness tonight knows this about her, too. Tobi stares into the darkness thicker than smoke, giving a questioning hum to himself.

A moment later, the back door is opened and the masked man walks right up to the one in the shadows. His visage of a playful, grown man yet child is still put on, but Zetsu knows who Tobi really is, can read between the lines of saccharine words and double entendre.

“Whatcha hidin’?”

The half of Zetsu’s face with visible features purses his lip. They’ve witnessed the entire day, every single person...and somehow...it all comes back to her. It’s a talent, really. But something...feels off. He’s in mind only accused her in the past of playing some sort of game...but doesn’t Tobi, too? And he sees nothing wrong with that.

So why, in their combined mind and heart and soul...does something seem wrong? Wrong as they saw Hidan blush, wrong as Deidara looked up at her guiding hand, wrong even...as “Madara” set his trump card on the table, to bring every Akatsuki into one, big, strange family?

The frogs and the bugs and everything low to the earth know the lyrics to her song, though you only hear if your ears are already so used to being alone in the dark. Alone, that is, besides the two of him.

“...Explain to me again why you’re keeping her,” Black Zetsu asks. Tobi tilts his head, absolutely unwilling to answer that question so blatantly while others— however unlikely— may be within earshot.

“Huh?”

But Zetsu does not elaborate. She’s smiling, the image of her through the window so bright, a laugh audible but muted through the glowing glass. A second later and arms dressed in white and black raise with a yawn, and a cloaked arm moves over from out of sight and pulls the blinds shut. The view of her is gone, the light she emits taken off of his face with no notice whatsoever. Something inside Zetsu stirs...

Maybe he needs to make use of his leverage over the ghost after all.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Until you hate me

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[vickysaurus]

Emperor Belos's strangely low-key face reveal. I know I invoke the reduced show length quite often to explain oddities, but I really do think him just unceremoniously dropping the mask must involve the cutting of whatever dramatic reveal moment would have happened. I can easily imagine his mask getting ripped off by surprise and underneath we see... a man who looks a lot like Hunter, and that is the moment it is revealed Belos and Hunter are family. Or perhaps, although it would require his design to look more like Philip Whittebane, Belos stays masked until Hollow Mind. During the big reveals at the end of the episode, we, and Luz, first see him without his mask and it turns out he's our old 'buddy' Philip! We still get that reveal, but it is mostly delivered through dialogue and I can imagine it being even more impactful if that were the moment Belos was unmasked and he looked more like Philip.

...Actually, now that I'm in full speculation mode, what's up with Belos and Philip Whittebane looking only vaguely similar? I have no doubt that the two characters were always meant to be connected, but could it be that the original plan was to have them actually be different people? I remember before Hollow Mind, the prevailing fan theory was that Belos was Philip's brother or the son of one of them, not Philip himself, and I think that would make a lot of sense in many ways. Since we don't start learning anything about Caleb, including his name, before season 2B, I could imagine there having been some clever rewrites to make the story more streamlined.

[twistedtummies2]

Year of the Bat - Number 18

Welcome to Year of the Bat! In honor of Kevin Conroy, Arleen Sorkin, and Richard Moll, I’m counting down my Top 31 Favorite Episodes of “Batman: The Animated Series” throughout this January. TODAY’S EPISODE QUOTE: “Some thought I had gone mad. Others thought I always had been, until they put me where I belonged.” Number 18 is…Dreams in Darkness.

This is the first episode on the list to feature one of Batman’s most revered enemies, the Scarecrow, as the main antagonist. The character had a lot of really fun appearances the show, but in my opinion, this was probably his grandest story of the whole bunch, in terms of sheer scope and scale. The story begins with Batman investigating a break-in at a spa resort, where he finds a high-tech crook tampering with the drinking water supply. In the scuffle, a device the crook was carrying bursts open, and a mysterious gas floods the room. Batman escapes, but as time goes on, he begins to experience horrifying hallucinations, as his greatest fears and paranoias all start to come to life right before his eyes. It doesn’t take long for Batman to realize Scarecrow is behind all this, and he soon realizes time is of the essence, as Scarecrow plans to poison the water supply for the entire city with a special new brand of his patented Fear Toxin. In some ways, this episode is similar to the Scarecrow’s first appearance, “Nothing to Fear.” In that one, he sprays Batman with the Fear Toxin early in the story, and for much of the rest of the episode, the Dark Knight must confront and deal with his greatest fears coming to life. “Dreams in Darkness,” however, goes way further with the idea of Batman battling his worst fears, taking the same basic idea and upping the stakes in a big way. Not only do the visions grow more intense the longer Batman goes untreated – the antidote for this specific blend of the Toxin will render him unconscious for two whole days, and he can’t waste any time – but after one particularly shocking vision causes Bruce to crash the Batmobile, he’s actually locked up in Arkham Asylum. He must now find a way to escape the Asylum and stop Scarecrow’s mad scheme, all while still under the effects of Crane’s newest formula. I love the way this episode builds, and the way it’s structured. The story actually begins with Batman already locked up in the Asylum, and for much of the story, he acts as a Narrator, telling us all about what’s really going on and why. It kind of feels like something out of an old-fashioned radio drama, or – fittingly enough – the way a comic is written, with thought balloons and text boxes indicating the character’s thoughts and motives. I also love the emphasis on the “ticking clock” element in the story, as Batman has to do so much with so little time on his hands. It helps to keep things in suspense, especially as the nightmares Scarecrow’s new toxin creates become more and more wild, imaginative, and downright freaky as the story goes on. The idea of Scarecrow poisoning the whole city, rather than just a select group of people, per the norm, was also a gripping concept; I kind of wonder if “Batman Begins” took a few hints from this story in particular, since the Scarecrow in that film and this episode do bear some similarities, in terms of how they affect Batman and their evil schemes. My only major gripe with this episode is Batman remaining unmasked while in the Asylum. I understand why they did it, of course; for one thing, it’s just a visually captivating concept. For another, it would have been…awkward if Bruce’s identity was revealed to so many people at once, especially in such an unceremonious fashion, and in a place where most of his worst enemies are all incarcerated. They do try to explain away the reason the doctors let him wear the cowl, but…ehhhh, I don’t personally buy it. I guess they had to figure out SOMETHING, though…and hey, if the doctors at Arkham were…you know…WAY better at what they do, Bruce would probably have a MUCH easier night life. :P Despite this nitpick, “Dreams in Darkness” is still a great (and magnificently animated) episode of the series, and easily one of Scarecrow’s personal best as a villain. I highly recommend it.

Tomorrow we move on to Number 17! Hint: “Man or woman, a sick mind is capable of anything.”

[haledamage]

Bonus! Inhale for Qora/Arcann :3

[ INHALE ]: while standing in very close quarters to the receiver, the sender shakily inhales with desire/anticipation as they realize how intimately close they are to one another.

Today is a lovely day for some Arcann angst! And also Arcann fluff, because he deserves it. This ties directly into For What It’s Worth (for those who haven’t read it or want a refresh and want to skip ahead to the scene it pertains to, it starts with the line “He isn’t surprised to find her in his dreams that night.”) 

sometime shortly after KotET and Unmasked Regret! that’s right, we’ve got actual in-relationship Qora/Arcann this time :3 vague mentions of past abuse

---

The tension was palpable as Qora and Arcann waited for the elevator to make its way all the way to the base of the tower where they stood. It pressed in around them, heavy and oppressive, and made even Qora hesitate to break the silence.

It lingered after they stepped onto the platform and it started its ascent, until finally she couldn’t take it anymore. “Are you sure about this, Arcann? We don’t have to do this, you know.”

“Yes, we do.” He sounded almost serene, and she might’ve bought it if she couldn’t feel the twisting storm of emotions underneath the calm surface. “I do.”

The rest of her argument died before she could give it voice. They both knew she wouldn't make him do this alone.

“There’s no telling what Vaylin did while you were gone,” she warned anyway, as gently as possible.

“I know. But I need to see it for myself,” he insisted. He glanced in her direction, a small smile lifting one corner of his lips. “Besides… you’re the Empress now. Don’t you want to see your palace?”

“‘Empress’ me again and see where it gets you,” Qora said sourly, with an equally sour grimace.

The low, warm chuckle Arcann gave her in response was almost worth putting up with the title. If only for a little while.

The elevator doors opened unceremoniously into a long, empty hallway. The walls were white and bare of any adornment except for three identical doors, one on each wall and one at the end.

Part of her remembered this hall, even if she’d never been there before. She’d dreamed about it, children sneaking from one room to another, the thrill of staying up past curfew and testing the bounds of what they could get away with. Happier times.

The room at the far end was Vaylin’s. A room to keep her always a bit removed from her brothers, disguised as a place of honor. To the east was Thexan’s room, with windows that faced Zakuul’s sunrise. It had long sat dormant, untouched since his death, exactly as he’d left it. And to the right…

Arcann had gone ahead while she lingered by the elevator, but he waited for her outside the door that she knew led to his room. The turmoil she felt from him downstairs was even worse now, strong enough that she could barely tell her emotions from his anymore. Pain, fear, regret, guilt.

Which would be worse to find on the other side of the door? Destruction left by his sister’s petulant wrath, or an untouched memorial like his brother’s room?

I shouldn’t be here. I should never have come back.

Wordlessly, Qora stepped up to his side. When she slipped her hand into his, his doubts went abruptly silent.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Arcann opened the door and pulled her into the room with him.

The feeling of deja vu was even stronger here than it had been in the hall. This was a room Qora was intensely, intimately familiar with. 

She had spent dozens of nights here, in Force-given lucid dreams she shared with Arcann. Pacing the living space, judging his taste in decor, deliberately pushing his buttons in an effort to understand him.

When she looked back at the last few years, it wasn't the war that came to mind first. It was this. This place. Years of the two of them drawing lines in the sand and taunting the other to cross them until they found themselves unexpectedly meeting in the middle.

It looked exactly as she remembered it. White, silver, and black, not a speck of color or luxury to be found. Stark, utilitarian, impersonal. Cold. More of a prison cell than a bedroom, belonging to a man who had been raised to believe sentimentality and comfort were punishable offenses.

Barely conscious of what she was doing, Qora crossed the room to the table by the bed, and picked up Thexan's lightsaber.

A few seconds later, Arcann joined her. He carefully took the hilt when she held it out to him, turning it slowly in his hand. "This doesn't feel real," he murmured, echoing her own thoughts.

"It was always real." She stepped away, restless energy pulling her back toward the center of the room. Looking for something, but she didn't know what yet. "I tried to pretend it wasn't, but I was lying."

Arcann hummed an agreement, which melted into a dry, humorless laugh as understanding curled through their bond. "If it wasn't real, then nothing that happened there mattered. Anything we said or… did, didn't have to change anything when we woke up."

That little pause before did got Qora's attention, but she didn't comment. She would have, once upon a time, but she didn't feel the need to anymore. She trusted that he'd tell her in his own time.

So much had changed since then.

"Do you remember the last time we were here together?" The gentle rumble of Arcann's voice came from right behind her, likely following the same impulse she was.

When she spun around to face him, he wasn't looking at her. His gaze was locked on the wall behind her. It was obvious where his mind was.

Qora’s thoughts were drawn to the same place, the same memory. The night after the battle on--and destruction of--Asylum. He’d come very close to killing her that day, closer than she’d ever admitted. But afterwards, in the dreamspace they sometimes shared, the lines between “friend” and “enemy” could get blurred and become… something else entirely.

She remembered Arcann, unmasked for the first time since they'd met. The anger simmering in his golden eyes, not quite strong enough to hide the fragile uncertainty underneath. The way that rage had cooled, just for a moment, when she touched him. The warmth of his skin as she traced the ridges of scars he’d never let anyone else see.

A moment of understanding, of connection, of vulnerability. She'd thought she was finally getting through to him.

Arcann, take your mask off. I’m tired of talking to it. I want to talk to you.

I do not want your pity, Qora.

Is that what you feel from me? Pity?

And then everything had gone wrong. In a blink, they were enemies again. It had taken the better part of the next year just to claw her way back to where they’d started.

Qora wasn’t aware she was moving until her hand settled against Arcann’s cheek, the durasteel of her prosthetic cool against his skin. Synthetic nerves let her feel the ridges of his scars just as she had that night--though she was quite a bit more familiar with them now.

He leaned into her touch, finally turning away from the wall. His eyes were pale blue instead of the golden orange of her memory; less fragile, less uncertain, no longer angry and full of something almost approaching contentment.

“Sometimes I wonder…” he spoke so quietly that Qora had to step closer to hear him properly, “how things might have been different, if I’d made another choice that night.”

“What other choice?” She'd asked herself that question so many times, and still hadn't found a satisfying answer.

Arcann looked behind her at the wall again, unwilling to meet her eyes anymore--though he didn’t otherwise pull away from her. “I’m… not sure.” His brow furrowed as he got lost in thought, and Qora automatically brushed her thumb over it to soothe it away. “Everything I felt about you then was… tangled up. Hatred, jealousy, desire… I couldn’t tell where one ended and the next began.”

Saying ‘I know’ felt trite, even if it was the truth. She knew it all too well, the fear that had been beaten into both of them under the guise of "training", the suspicion that every kindness hid a new cruelty, that an offered hand held the sharpest knife. Spend enough time in darkness and you’ll become afraid of the light.

What she said instead was, “I understand.” It didn’t feel like enough either.

“What I do know…” his breath hitched with a sharp, shaky inhale, as her other hand settled on his unscarred cheek, cradling his face between her hands, “is that no one had ever touched me like you did. Like I was something special. Something worthy. Part of me would have done anything you wanted if it meant you would keep doing so.”

“It wouldn’t have taken much. I’ve never been any good at keeping my hands to myself, where you’re concerned.” Qora’s voice fell short of her attempt at levity, coming out too quiet and too sincere.

It was still enough to draw a smile from Arcann. “I don’t mind. I never have.”

His arms curled slowly around her waist, drawing her in and closing what little space still remained between them. His smile grew wider and just a little playful; she was too distracted by the lovely sight of it to recognize it as the warning it was.

“Besides,” if his smile was playful, his voice was downright teasing, “what else could I possibly offer you? I’ve already given you my Empire.”

All Qora managed was an indignant squawk before Arcann interrupted her with a kiss, his laughter warm and sweet against her lips.

[submission4]

The Case of the Uncool Ghouls, Part 12

Suddenly there was a rustling, cracking BUMP! followed by a surprised squawk. This was accompanied by a stream of not very church like cursing. “Get me out of here!” came the Bishop’s somewhat higher and desperate tones. “I think it’s ok for us to stop cowering now, Daff.” Velma whispered in her friend’s ear as the girls continued to cling to each other. The glamorous redhead’s green eyes sprang open, and her lipsticked mouth turned up in a beaming smile of triumph as she took in the sight. “It worked, Velma!” she exclaimed. The brains of Mystery Inc adjusted her spectacles. “Indeed.” she observed a note of surprise in her voice as she regarded the flailing Bishop, a mess of disheveled robes, up to his middle in the collapsed floor of the ballroom. “The old loosened floorboards trick. It seems the oldies really can be the goodies.” The two female ghost hunters stood up and approached their trapped no-longer-so-supernatural prey. “Give up, your holiness?” Velma asked him sardonically. “Anything!” shrieked the now mitreless Bishop. “Just get me out of here, you dumbass kids, before I fall!”

“Gee - just a luminous mask!” The disappointed Daphne stood staring, hand on hip, at the latex face covering until recently worn by the Bishop of the Unholy Cross before being unceremoniously wrenched from his head by the lilac pantyhosed beauty. Velma looked up from studying the spectral vestments of the captured spook. “Luminous paint.” she confirmed while Daphne tied up the miserable looking unmasked fake, now reduced to the vest and jogging pants he had worn under his costume, where he stood, a disbelieving expression still on his face. The bright light of the first day of November poured into the ballroom, illuminating the glowering Bishop’s defeat. “So who are you and what was this all about?” Velma demanded of the man while Daphne secured him to a chair with more of the patented ghost proof MysteryInc rope. He looked balefully up at her. “My name is Derek Hyde,” he muttered, “I’m a real estate guy charged with selling this dump. During surveys I discovered uranium deposits in the grounds and figured if I could scare away potential buyers and the townsfolk by reviving the legend of a mad bishop, I’d be able to buy it for a song and bring in the real heavy duty equipment and make myself rich.” “What about your goons?” Daphne asked, while she tightened his bonds. “Just hired out of work actors,” Hyde replied airily, “they’d have got their cut.” Velma folded her arms. “Now all four of you are going to jail!” she told him virtuously. Hyde looked up, a bitter expression on his face. Daphne quickly slapped a piece of duct tape over the angry man’s mouth. “Just in case, bishop. This way you won’t need to go to confession before the police get here!”

Later, after the girls had gathered all their prisoners into the ballroom to wait for Fred, Shaggy, Scooby and the sheriff to arrive, Daphne happily snapped pic after pic of the bound and gagged quartet. “What are you doing, Daff?” Velma asked curiously, looking over the redhead’s shoulder. “For the Mystery Inc Rogue’s Gallery,” she explained, “and for the WhatsApp group, to remind the boys and Scoob that we girls can catch ghosts without their help, anytime!” The captives glared at the girl helplessly as she recorded the ignominious end to their scam for posterity. “I’m calling it The Case of The Uncool Ghouls!” she said, laughing. “Got a ring to it, don’t you think, fellas?”

As The Hyde gang were loaded aboard the sheriff’s van in handcuffs and Fred and Shaggy looked on admiringly, Hyde himself gazed back at Daphne and Velma as they leaned against an archway in the courtyard of the mansion. “I’d have got away with it too!” he yelled back at the girls. “If it hadn’t been for you meddling….”

“Young women?” offered Velma promptly. “Bah!” responded Hyde as he was bundled into the police car as the two female ghost hunters watched it pull away, smiling in quiet satisfaction.

THE END

Sources: retrorope; Galmted; BoundMen.com; Pinterest

[bledf1rst]

" let's not jump to conclusions! " mark says, probably a tad too loudly considering their proximity, fumbling hands reaching over to ADD to the increasing pressure atop spider-man's hands. he's just a guy- the irrational, slightly hysterical part of his brain screams, seeing his mask-flattened hair and his eyes and spider-man had always seemed so LARGER THAN LIFE before and mark's fingers are wet with red, heightened senses picking up his lethargic heartrate, and he begs himself to just. get his shit together so spider-man doesn't literally die under him. they've been lucky enough that no one's walked in with him unmasked, but he's thinking that might not last so long.

" sorry, " he says, suddenly, " i'm- kind of freaking out, " it should be pretty obvious that he has absolutely no clue what he's doing, but he's mark grayson, INVINCIBLE, and he's not gonna just let this happen if he can help it, " is there- someone you trust? that i can take you to? i can fly you there, like, really, really fast but breaking the sound barrier might aggravate your wound, " he chews his lip and unceremoniously attempts to peel him away from the ground, hand under his knees and arm braced across his back, " i- also have someone, but. uh. she won't be very happy to see us if we show up covered in blood. "

continued, @arxnexe

[flightofaqrow]

He sits there on the concrete, alone and unmasked. He's at a dead end alleyway, eating something shoddy and over-seasoned that he'd stolen from a butcher. Large teeth tear at the meat in his hands, and his eyes spot a bird nearby. Too small to be a real raven. It's surveying the scenery, eyes focused intently on him, and on a whim he tosses it a piece of the meat. Birds could eat meat, right? Who cared if they didn't, this meal sucked anyway... 🐺

@slaughtermachine 🐺

oh. it's the guy from the showers!

(yes, qrow actually did notice his face. admittedly, it was unique and, uh, hard to miss.)

interesting how he keeps showing up... might be time to make the most of it.

beady eyes blink back at him, then brighten all the more when tossed some scraps. crow's feet hop happily down from branches and onto pavement. the mister shares his meat!!

black beak picks up the piece, tossing it into the air then swallowing unceremoniously. when his throat clears, the bird speaks, shrill but clear, "hiiiiii!"

he trots towards the man, caws a few times, then, "...what doin?"

[cyclonesyndicate]

a price for the past || ???

You discuss. Though you may be eager to just unmask the person behind everything and get it over with, you play along and try to piece together what exactly the meteor at the heart of Vortex Island is, and what its intended use is.

The meteor, Tempest’s plans, Ragnarok’s plans… There’s a lot to unpack, and a lot more questions than answers. At some point, you may find yourself wondering where Tempest – Nico – themself went off to, and why they are not here to help fill in the gaps. A feline friend with the answers to everything would be pretty helpful right now.

As if on cue, you hear the elevator door open.

“Apologies for my late arrival – I figured it would be a better idea for me to regain my original form before joining you all.”

[♫♫♫]

Standing before you all is Tempest, the true leader of CYCLONE.

They enter the room, getting their bearings before… making their way to the chair Tony’s sitting in, picking him up, and unceremoniously setting him down much like one would a cat who was in their spot. They take a seat, looking at you all.

“From what I heard, you have the gist of what the meteor is, more or less. I don’t see a point in prolonging this mystery when there are so many others to solve.” 

They straighten their posture, trying to give the air of authority. It mostly works, but they were a cat a short while ago.

 “I… cannot give you the answers directly, but I can help you all put the pieces together. And if you have any questions, I’m more than happy to answer.”