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hannahbarberra162 · 4 months ago

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Best in Show (OS Halloween Special ft. Heart Pirates)

on Ao3

GN!Reader x Law ft. your favorite shitheads. No smut, all fluff.

A Halloween silly. Suspend your disbelief. Extra sillies at the end.

WC: 5.8k

Warnings: none, all treats no tricks.

You've spent months preparing for the annual Pirate's Ball party on your island. Your costume is nearly perfect, you want to win first place. A few newfound friends help you along the way to victory.

You cursed as you entered the packed shop, trying to squeeze yourself between the many people all competing for last minute Halloween costumes. You were so annoyed at yourself for losing the final piece of your costume for tonight’s Halloween party. You’d completed your costume weeks ago and as you were doing the final try on, you realized you couldn’t find the hat you needed to complete your look. You spent hours scouring your apartment, but it was like the hat had gone to another dimension. Cursing, you decided to brave the costume shop on Halloween to try and find a replacement. It was a fool’s errand, but you really wanted to win best costume this year.

Your island was known for its annual Halloween parties that lasted through the whole month of October. During the other 11 months of the year, your island was boring, nothing of note ever happened. But during October, there were parties held every night, culminating in the raucous, rowdy, rambunctious costume party you’d be going to tonight. Tourists came from all over the Grand Line to enjoy the week leading up to the Pirate’s Ball. The annual theme of the Ball was Marines and Pirates, and you had to be dressed up to attend. It was the highlight of the year, and winning the costume contest was a huge mark of distinction. There were several categories, best individual costume, best couple, best group, and best crew. You’d spent months perfecting your costume, you put your best effort in to finally win best individual costume after years of trying.

Your friends would be going to the party too, but they weren’t as invested in winning as you were. They were going as some of the Strawhat Pirates, a popular choice for partygoers. At any given pirate themed party, there were sure to be a bunch of Nami and Robins, Boa Hancocks, Portgas D. Ace’s, Buggies, and even a bunch of Sanjis. Those costumes were easy to make at home - and they were also fairly sexy. You’d offered them to be members of the Heart Pirates with you, but they didn’t want to wear the iconic full body boiler suits.

Which is why you needed your Trafalgar Law costume to be absolutely perfect. Dressing up as Law was easy in principle, all you needed were jeans and a white tank top. He was a popular choice for a costume, but difficult to get right. But there were a lot of details in the costume that needed to be reproduced in order to be accurate. Law had a lot of tattoos, and not just the famous ones on his hands. He had Kikoku, his giant sword, and his feathery cowled jacket. Not to mention, his earrings, his hat, the markings on his pants…there was a lot you had to get right to have an exact Law costume. And you’d spent weeks upon weeks making sure you had everything exactly right, you were going to be the best Law at the party.

But now, all of that was for naught, because you’d lost your precious, fluffy, puffy, white Trafalgar Law hat. You’d spent so long on it too, looking through different versions of his wanted posters to make sure that your hat was realistic. It made you want to cry, thinking of all the hours spent hunched over the stupid hat, adding dot after dot. The shop sold new and used wares, maybe you’d be lucky like you were the time you found a Kikoku replica during the off season. You didn’t think your luck would get you that far but you were hopeful that there would be a white hat you could quickly paint on in the costume shop. Even then you weren’t sure that it would be dry in time for the party, causing you to groan in frustration once more.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed your way through the throngs of people towards the hat section. It was in the back of the store, near the try-on rooms, so you had to shove your way past other customers looking for last minute Admiral or pirate costumes. Finally making it to where you needed to go, you hurriedly looked through the hat trees, trying to find anything that would work. You saw some Chopper hats, some Sabo hats, a bunch of Portgas D. Ace hats, even a Mihawk hat, but nothing that would work for Trafalgar Law. You were close to tears, both of anger and sadness, when you saw It. It was puffy, white, with the leopard spots that were so hard to reproduce. It even was broken in the middle of the brim, like his was. It was a perfect Trafalgar Law hat.

It was sitting on top of a glass table by the try on stalls, along with other clothes that had been discarded by would-be buyers. You quickly snatched the hat, still warm from whoever had tried it on before, and stuffed it under your arm. You needed to buy it and get out of the store quickly, in case whoever set it down had any second thoughts. Pushing your way to the checkout counter you saw one of your friends, Tim, in retail hell working the register. Holding up the hat, you made eye contact with them and threw down your Berri by the register. All the hats were the same price, you’d bought many from the store before. Tim grunted, taking your money, as some lady argued about the price of the Koby costume she was buying for her son.

“Thanks, Tim. See you tonight!” you yelled over the din of customers scrambling for last minute costumes.

“Remember, pregame at Zoey’s!” he replied, ignoring the growing indignation of the customer in front of him. You didn’t envy his position, but as a nurse you’d already put in your hours with shitty people for the week. You had the day and tomorrow off, and you were going to enjoy it. Sure, you had to trade working New Years to get it off…for the next three years…but if you won the contest tonight, it would be worth it.

Clutching the hat to your chest, you pushed your way out of the store with your prize. You were elated, finally something had gone your way! The first half of the week had been a total shitshow, literally. As a nurse, you were familiar with the various fluids the human body had to offer, but that didn’t mean you wanted to see them all on your clothes. Or shoes. Or hair. It had been a rough few shifts, but the Pirate’s Ball was your guiding light. Walking briskly, you headed home to try on your completed costume and get ready for the night’s activities.

A few hours later, you were on your way to Zoey’s with Kikoku slung over your shoulders. You’d spent endless amounts of time in front of the mirror, painting Law’s signature tattoos over your skin. Your costume was exact, you’d practiced his mannerisms, you’d even brought a little LED light to put in your hand for his Devil Fruit power. Opening the door to Zoey’s apartment, you declared “SHAMBLES!” and stepped inside. Your friends, in various states of pregaming, applauded you. You’d had the same group of friends for a few years now, some from nursing school, some from university, some locals from town.

“Incredible! You look just like him!” Zoey said, holding your hand to spin you in a circle.

“Thank you Zoey-ya, I spent so long on this, but it’s gonna be worth it,” you said with determination, “I’m gonna win Best Pirate.” You made your declaration more official by unsheathing your metal Kikoku and drawing it like Law did. Of course, your Kikoku was dull and not functional, but it still looked cool. Laughing, Zoey handed you a drink, and the night began in earnest.

An hour later, you were tipsy and waiting in line with your friends to get into the Pirate’s Ball. You eyed the competition with a growing knot in your stomach. You hadn’t prepared for the competition to be this good. Showing your ticket to the bouncer, you and your friends were allowed into the party. You’d been to the venue many times before, not just during the Pirate’s Ball. The stage was at the back of the main floor, with stairs on either side going to the upper deck. Most of the place was open dance floor, with the bar situated by the main entrance. The venue had been decorated to look like the deck of the Oro Jackson, complete with sails hanging from the ceiling. The dim lights of the bar and the bumping music shrouded the attendees with a perfect amount of anonymity to give in to wild desires.

Most of the guests had come in conventional pirate costumes. You saw a ton of Portgas D. Aces, Boas, and Buggys. As expected, there were also a lot of Namis and Sanjis, Robins, Rogers, Marcos, and Zoros. There were other pirates represented too, like Hongo, Rayleigh, Cracker, Bartolomeo, and Thatch, but for the most part people dressed up as the regular fan favorites. You went up to the bar to get yourself another drink, in the hopes of finding some liquid courage.

You were confident that you looked good, but you weren’t all that comfortable being on stage. It was a requirement of the competition that all entrants present their costumes in front of the audience in addition to the judges. A lot of people had fun with it, acting like the pirates or Marines that they dressed up as. It added an element of showmanship to the event, people imitating the pirates who were so often in the news and changing the course of the world. It was important to do well on the presentation because a particularly strong performance could make up for any inconsistencies in costumes.

Walking up to the table with the sign up for the costume contest, you saw that the list of individual costumes was already in the teens. The list for couples was even longer, it was the most popular event of the night. However, the one for groups was the shortest, with only a few names listed. Contestants needed a minimum of three people to enter as a group but couldn’t be the entire crew. Wishing again that your friends had wanted to join you, you scanned the crowd and sipped your drink.

Sipping turned to gulping as you saw the competition at hand. There was an unbelievable Big Mom, an outstanding Mihawk, an excellent Crocodile, and even a really well executed Franky complete with robotic arms. Your likelihood of winning the individual competition was dwindling before your eyes. Now on your second drink at the bar, you wondered if you’d be able to find two other people willing to be in a group with you. You’d found a bunch of Luffys, but no one was dressed as Eustass Kid. There was a Bepo milling through the crowd, but you’d already talked to him. He was in a “First Mates” group with a Zoro and a Killer. Besides, his costume wasn’t even that good, you thought. The insignia on the boiler suit wasn’t correctly placed and the orange of his boiler suit wasn’t the right shade.

Swaying to the music, you were trying to enjoy your time and keep yourself from overthinking. Your new strategy was to drink until your worries went away, which was why you were already on your third cocktail. Whereas earlier on you had been leaning against the wall with your arms crossed, like Law probably would, but now you danced with your friends and chatted with other party goers. The real Law would probably have an aneurysm from so much socialization, but you’d lost the plot anyway. You’d deluded yourself into thinking you could win this year, but at least you could have fun at the party. You were finishing off your drink when you saw them from the bottom of your glass.

A Shachi and a Penguin, on the first floor by the stage. Their costumes were impeccable, exactly replicating the real pirates you’d read so much about. The Shachi had even put caps on his teeth to mirror the sharp bite of the pirate he was emulating. The Penguin’s hat was exactly right, and they even had the tattoos that the real pirates did, something most people missed in their costumes. Now on the other side of tipsy, you had the bravery to come up to your “brothers” from the North Blue. Stomping down the stairs, you approached the Shachi and Penguin like the Captain you were. You hoped they were maybe a duo, or going for best couple, and were available for a group costume.

“Shachi-ya, Penguin-ya,” you intoned in your best imitation of Law’s deep voice, “join me for the group contest.” The pair looked at one another, but it was difficult to decipher their reactions since the Shachi was wearing his iconic triangle sunglasses and the Penguin’s eyes were obscured by his hat, just like the real pirates. “I’m j-just kidding,” you said, breaking character. “I was hoping you guys would want to join me for the costume contest, maybe for a group entry? There would be three of us, and your costumes are immaculate,” you said, gesticulating a little too much. The Shachi grinned widely, showcasing his pointed teeth.

“Why, Captain, I wasn’t expecting to see you at the party,” he said, looking you over. “Peng, I think we have the time to help out our dear brother, right? And look, you even have our Captain’s hat,” he exclaimed, nudging the Penguin.

“Of course I do,” you scoffed, “I’m Trafalgar D. Water Law, Captain of the Heart Pirates. I always wear this h-hat. And this scowl.”

“We are at your beck and call, Captain,” the Penguin said, saluting you. “Tell us what to do and we’ll follow your orders, like always.”

You laughed and clapped your hands. This was great! You checked with Shachi to make sure they weren’t signed up for another bracket and once you confirmed, you ran to put your names on the registry. They hadn’t told you their real names, so you just put the names of the pirates along with your civilian name. With all the drinks flowing and people getting loose, the hosts would understand if a few names weren’t exactly right.

Hurrying back to your new crewmates, you found the Shachi and Penguin looking at the bar menu. Since they were now working for you (and you felt indebted to them for agreeing so easily to join in the contest) you decided to treat them. You’d worked a lot of overtime in the weeks leading up to the Ball and you had plenty of Berri to burn on drinks.

Clapping them on the shoulders, you had to yell in order to be heard over the noise of the bar. “Boys-ya! Order what you want! Drinks are on me tonight!” Grinning at one another, the men saluted you enthusiastically.

“Aye aye Captain!”

“Order me something too, whatever Law…I mean whatever you know I like,” you hollered to Penguin.

“Yes, Sir!” Penguin agreed, flashing you a dimpled smile. If you hadn’t known they were wearing costumes, you would have thought they were the real Heart pirates. You’d spend months looking for a wig the exact color of Shachi’s hair but never found one, unlike the Shachi in front of you. Talking with one another easily, the two men obviously were friends outside of the party and quickly brought you a drink. Your face soured as the heavy stout hit your taste buds.

“What’s wrong Captain? Not enjoying your favorite drink tonight?” Shachi asked, gently nudging your ribs with his elbow.

“Of course not, I, Trafalgar D. Water Law, love this terrible beer,” you declared solemnly, to the laughter of the men. With so much alcohol in your system already you could tolerate the dark stout. Besides, it would help for the contest that was about to start if it really was the Captain’s favorite drink.

“Hey, how do you know the Captain’s full name?” Penguin asked while sipping the appletini he ordered.

“Oh, um, I r-read all the articles he publishes,” you answered while swigging from your beer. “He publishes his full name on his sci-scientific papers.” You wanted to talk to the Shachi and Penguin more about what to do for the contest but the crowd had already quieted for the MCs to begin hosting the competition. The three of you huddled together near your larger group of friends and waited for your turn to be called up to the stage.

Watching the show made you glad you’d removed yourself from the solo competition. The individual bracket had a splendid turn out and you got to enjoy performances from many “pirates.” You thought the two standouts were the Big Mom who pretended to give birth to dolls, as well as an incredibly executed Perona who even brought a Kumae doll with her and had a "tantrum" on stage. Your stomach churned with the knowledge that you’d be the one on the stage soon which made your attention wander from the stage. Soon, the individual and couples segments had run their course and it was time for the group presentations.

You couldn’t stand still as you waited for your turn in the group, stagefright consuming your thoughts. Shachi and Penguin, both on their third drink, were lounging and chatting and unaffected by the coming spotlight.

“Hey, Cap, you alright there?” Shachi asked while swirling his Old Fashioned.

“Y-yeah, just…I don’t like being in the spotlight,” you replied while peeking to the stage, watching a goth family of Perona, Zoro, and Mihawk pretend to bicker.

“Neither does the real Law,” Penguin assured you while patting your back.

“Yeah, he only likes to show off in battle,” agreed Shachi, laying his arm across your shoulder. Your brow furrowed at the information.

“How do you know that? I’ve never heard anything like that and I think I’ve read everything about the man that’s been printed,” you asked.

“We..uh, watch every snailfilm we can find on him....we’re...um, superfans!” exclaimed Penguin.

“Yeah! And uh, doesn’t it seem like him too? He can be so humble, ” Shachi remarked with a serious nod.

“You’re right, it would be in character. What should we do when we’re on the stage? I’ll go first and then you guys can come -”

“We got this. We’ve uh…practiced before,” Penguin interrupted. You nodded while swallowing the lump in your throat. Your turn was next and you were filled with nervous energy you needed to quell.

“Switch drinks with me,” you demanded while holding out your half full glass of beer.

“Yes, Captain!” Penguin said, switching the dark brew for a Cosmo. Being the Captain had its perks, it seemed. Maybe you’d reconsider becoming a pirate if it meant handsome men at your beck and call.

“And how did you know this is his favorite drink?” you asked suspiciously.

“Everyone knows he’s from the North Blue,” Penguin explained. “That’s the most popular beverage in that area. It was just a guess,” he finished with a shrug. Your names were called and you had no more time for talking. You chugged the rest of the martini and ambled on stage, pulling out all the Law-like mannerisms you’d practiced in the mirror.

Walking up to the microphone center of the stage slowly, you boomed “ROOM” to the crowd and turned on the LED light in your palm. The crowd applauded and cheered, giving you the chance to give a Law-like smirk.

“And now, my crew mates Shachi and Penguin!” you growled, motioning to the pair still behind the stage. They leapt into action, joining behind you with their limbs in a fighting pose.

“It’s nice to make your acquaintance party people!” they said in unison. They hadn’t lied, they really had practiced this together. The three of you walked the stage as was required, showing off the costumes you’d all poured your time and energy into.

“And who’s that?” yelled Shachi, grabbing the microphone from the stand. “Why, it’s our first mate, Bepo! Come up to the stage Bepo, join us!” The crowd parted to reveal someone in a perfect replica Bepo costume.

“Come on, cheer for Bepo everyone!” Shachi continued, whipping the crowd into a frenzy. The cacophony that erupted overpowered even the MCs on the microphones.

“Bepo! Bepo! Bepo!” Penguin chanted and the audience joined in. With a yell, the Bepo launched himself to the stage, joining the other Heart Pirates. Bepo showed off his claws, moving and holding a karate style pose along with Penguin and Shachi. You folded your arms in front of your chest and the flash of a snail told you a picture had been taken. The crowd roared with their approval of the costumes and you blushed furiously. The last second addition of Bepo took the judges by storm, they all gave your group 10s.

Rushing off the stage, you squeezed Shachi and Penguin into a tight hug. “That was amazing! Thank you guys so much!” The person in the mink costume was already trying to drag the pair away even as he apologized under his breath. “And thank you, Bepo! We’ve won for sure, I can’t imagine another group can get a perfect score!” You kissed the snout of the mink costume, leaving behind some of your face makeup on its white fur. “Sorry about that,” you apologized while rubbing the makeup off with your arm. The costume was so realistic you couldn’t believe how soft the fur was. If you were able to remember you wanted to ask the person how they made it look so life-like. One more drink and you’d ask to sleep on top of it.

“Let’s go, Captain is annoyed!” Bepo exclaimed, pulling a reluctant Shachi and Penguin down the wings backstage.

“Aw, come on Bep. It’s Halloween, give us a few more minutes” Shachi grumbled.

“Yeah, Bepo. We have to stay until they declare the winners at least... and who knows? You might get a trophy,” Penguin said while waggling his eyebrows. In the dim light it almost looked like the mink’s eyes grew wider.

“Besides, I’m the Captain,” you joined in. You didn’t want the night to end, the Penguin and Shachi were fun to be around. “I say we keep drinking!” you added with a fist raised in the air. Shachi and Penguin whooped and picked you up onto their shoulders, passing through the packed floor of the venue with ease. Bepo followed behind slowly while trying to avoid stepping on other patrons. Depositing you on your feet in front of the bar, you fished more Berri out of your pocket and handed it off to Shachi. Perching on a bar stool facing the bar, you watched your hard earned money being turned into Lemon Drops for the four of you. Worth every penny.

“And who might you be?” a deep voice asked from behind.

Channeling your inner Law, you turned around as you sneered while looking the speaker up and down, “I am Dr. Traflagar D. Water Law, Captain of the Heart Pirates, former Warlord of the Sea, part of the worst generation, surgeon extraordinaire, supreme user of the Ope Ope no Mi and the future Pirate King. Who might you be?” You tried to maintain your stony face but couldn't after you saw the other person was also a Law cosplayer. “Oh, sorry, you knew all that already. I’m - we’re Trafalgar Law!” You broke into a smile, unable to maintain Law’s stoic recalcitrance.

Looking over the other Law, your mouth dropped open. “Wow! Your costume is insane! It’s so detailed, you’ve got every little thing down. Did you pierce your ears for this too?” you asked and reached out to touch the small golden earrings dangling from his ears. The Law jerked back, giving you a frown.

“Here you go Captain,” Shachi said while wrapping an arm around you to pass you your drink.

“Thank you Shachi-ya,” you replied before taking a gulp.

“I didn’t order anything,” the other Law intoned.

“ You didn’t, Law did,” Penguin said, lifting his own glass to you. You giggled at the gesture and returned the drinking salute.

“That’s r-right, this is my crew! Penguin-ya, Shachi-ya, and Bepo-ya!” you slurred. Perhaps continuing to drink wasn’t the best idea but you’d find out for sure tomorrow.

“I don’t call him Penguin-ya, just Penguin,” Other Law scoffed.

“W-well la dee dah . P-peng! Let’s get more, yeah?” You’d already finished your fourth? Fifth? Drink of the night and you were feeling great.

“Negative, Cap. Let’s wait a few. Maybe get some fresh air,” Penguin suggested. You huffed but they led you out to the patio. Penguin and Shachi went to secure one of the tables, Bepo had left to use the restroom which left you and Law talking together under the fairy lights. A few of your friends were there smoking which made you want a cigarette of your own. Maybe you’d bum one off them....you thought while longingly watching the plumes of smoke.

“Don’t even think about it,” Other Law told you. “Nicotine is a dangerous, addicting substance and smoking alone increases your mortality rate by -”

“Blah blah I know, I know. I’m a n-nurse. I know the stats,” you groaned while still eyeing the temptation.

“A nurse? Is that why you dressed as Trafalgar Law?” his long lithe body leaning against the exterior brick wall. For a Law impersonator, he really hit all the checkboxes. He was so similar looking to the real Law, it made you feel some kind of way. This Other Law was incredibly good looking and had the deep gravelly voice you’d always imagined Law would. He was tan and well muscled, and even had the dark eye bags you found strangely attractive. It would be weird to ask for but maybe he’d make out with you while he was still in costume after a few more drinks.

“Pfff. N-not just dressed like him. He’s the reason I became a nurse at a-all. I wasn’t smart enough for me-medical school but I wanted to be like him a l-little.” Normally you didn’t talk to strangers, much less bare your soul to them, but you were a touch wasted.

“Hmm. Nurses are just as important as doctors,” Other Law said sagely, the two of you nodding at one another.

“I know, b-but it’s not just that! He’s so smart and handsome and hot and amazing and I want him to be the Pirate King even though it’s probably gonna be St-Strawhat and his articles are so interesting and he’s so sophisticated and his brothers are so lovely and I just love him s -so hic much!” Your Law rant was interrupted by the overhead speaker announcing the winners of the costume contest. Everyone went silent as they listened in. “Gah, I’m so nervous, can I hold your hand?” you asked the Other Law. You didn’t wait for an answer instead reaching and gripping the man’s tan hand. It had the same “tattoos” yours did which made for a funny look as you squeezed tightly.

The first, second, and third place prizes for Best Individual and Couple were announced and with every announcement you gripped Other Law’s hand tighter and tighter. Finally, it was time for the announcement you’d been waiting for. Shachi, Bepo, and Penguin had come to stand by you and Law, everyone listening in for the announcement.

AND THE FIRST PLACE WINNER OF BEST GROUP GOES TO…….THE HEART PIRATES!

You screamed as loud as you could in delight while Penguin picked you up into the air and spun you in a circle. Bepo rubbed his head on Shachi’s hat in happiness while the assembled crowd cheered for you.

“Penguin! Shachi! Bepo! We won!! We won! Oh my god I finally won!” Penguin was still spinning you and the world turned on its axis. “Whoa, uh…I think you should stop that,” you groaned while holding your head. You might have gone a little past your limit. A lot past.

“We can go now, right Captain?” Bepo asked, his hands worrying together. You could imagine why a full bear mink costume would be uncomfortable but that was no reason to end the night early.

“N-no!” you yelled.

“Sure, Bepo. Let's head back.” Other Law answered simultaneously. Penguin put you down and leaned on Shachi’s shoulder with his forearm. Penguin looked between you and Other Law several times.

“I dunno, Shach,” Penguin said while rubbing his chin in thought, “it’s hard to tell which one is actually our Captain. Who should we listen to? This Law wants to go home but this Law wants to stay and keep having fun…” Penguin gestured between the two of you.

Shachi’s sharp grin split his face in half with delight. “You’re right, Peng. Which one is the real Law? Hmmmm…” Shachi’s rapid double takes between the two of you caused you to giggle. Holding Kikoku in your crossed arms, you did your best Law impression opposite Other Law. Other Law was decidedly not amused by the antics of his friends, making you break character to laugh at his snarl.

“Well, this one has Captain’s hat, they must be the right one!” Shachi declared, putting his hand on your shoulder. Penguin hummed in agreement, nodding along with his friend. The two of them stood flanking you with their arms crossed like they were your actual crew.

“You boys are my best friends, you know me so well. I l-love you guys,” you asserted while furrowing your brow. You threw your arms over their shoulders and brought the two of them into a quick group hug. You thought you saw Other Law’s eye twitching.

“Awww, Captain, we love you tooooooo,” Penguin said while placing a sloppy kiss on your cheek, making you laugh. This time Other Law’s eye did twitch.

“Room. Shambles,” Other Law said. The deck went quiet as the hat that had been on your head was now firmly on Law’s. The real Law. Trafalgar D. Water Law. Your hero, your inspiration, the reason you changes majors in college. Your eyes opened wide as your mind went blank. Should you apologize? Did you need to plead for your life? Was he mad at you? Did he like your costume? Was he glad you’d won? Would he let you trace his tattoos with your tongue? Did he want your heart in a cube? Did he have to look so hot?

“I’ve been looking for my hat all day. Lost it in that damn costume shop while Bepo was looking for an Uta costume,” Law scowled. Bepo bowed his head apologetically.

“Sorry Captain,” was his pathetic response. Law gave the mink a small smile as you imagined rubbing your face on his plush fur.

“It’s alright Bepo, I’m just sorry the costume didn’t fit,” the Captain said quietly to his first mate. You had a million questions for the mink but your muddled mind wouldn’t bring any to the forefront.

“Um, Cap- er, um, Dr. Trafalgar, I’m sorry for what I said earlier, and, um…for d-dressing up like you.” You couldn’t look Law in the eye, you were tapping your replica Law shoes against the wood deck of the patio. You really did respect him professionally and hoped you hadn’t embarrassed yourself too much.

To your relief the corners of the Captain’s mouth quirked up into an almost smile. “It’s a good imitation, you won first place. All you need is my hat and we’re practically twins,” he said, touching the hat now on his own head.

“Uh, sorry for that too. I didn’t know it was the - your h-hat,” you stuttered. It did look like it belonged to him - it looked so natural perched on his beautiful head. Your good sense must have been shambled to another dimension because you asked the first thing that came to mind.

“And I thought sh-shambles replaces things. What do I get if you have my h-hat?”

“This,” Law said, kissing you chastely on your cheek. It was innocent and sweet, but he might as well have stuck his tongue down your throat with how red your face suddenly blazed.

“The Tang is on the far side of the port if you want to come by tomorrow to chat after you’re sober. Good night, Law-ya.”

~~~

Bonus sillies

Law: Take off those medals, they’re not part of the uniform

Shachi: *wearing his 1st place medal over his suit* you’re just jealous

Penguin: yeah, it’s obvious our costumes were the best

Law: they weren’t costumes! You cheated!

Shachi: *whispers* I wish Other Law was here, they would let us wear our medals

Penguin: And they bought us drinks, shoulda chosen them instead

Law shambles them into the sea

Marco: Ace, put down my extra shirt. You’re not dressing up as me for that Pirate Ball yoi.

Ace: But I need a costume with a shirt to cover my tattoo! No one on the crew wears a shirt except for Izou and he said I can’t even look at his wardrobe.

Marco: That’s not my problem yoi.

Ace: That’s yoi not yoi my yoi problem yoi

Marco: I don’t sound like that

Ace: * now wearing Marco’s shirt, twirling in a circle* Look at meeeee, I’m Maaaarco. You can’t tell if my eyes are open or closed cuz I’m a biiiiiiiiird

Marco tosses Ace overboard, Ace doesn’t get to the party

Shanks: Sooooooooooo, how many Shanks were there :) :) :)

Hongo: Just one

Shanks: :(

Hongo: But you won best couple

Shanks: :) :) with who?

Hongo: It was a Shuggy couple

Shanks:*groans* Every year!

Buggy: what now, Redhair?

Shanks: nothing honey * kisses his hand *

Buggy: * yanking hand away * How many Buggys were there?

Hongo: 17

Buggy: heh * flips Shanks off with the hand wearing his wedding ring *

Shanks: Why don’t more people dress up as me? It’s such a sexy and easy costume! Open shirt, red wig, cool pants, sandals….

Beckman: I keep telling you, ladies don’t like dressing up as middle aged men. If you want more cosplayers, we gotta get women on the crew.

Shanks: Maybe if I wear fewer clothes…

Beckman: NO!

Shanks: …..wait, I’m not middle aged.

Hongo: tell that to your receding hairline.

Blackbeard: So, how many Blackbeards were there?

Von Augur: I wasn’t allowed in :(

Knockoff Spirit Halloween Marine Costumes

Vice Admiral Open Handed Slap

Captain Honesty (comes with wrong color wig)

Admiral Angry Lava

Vice Admiral Vapor

Happy Halloween!

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catenary-chad · 2 months ago

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I've alluded to the concept a number of times, but here's my redesign for OLC Belle the Sleeping Car wildly roleswapped into a Momma/Poppa figure for Electra, as Belle the GG1. You could probably give her a better name, but Belle is passable enough since all locomotives in the US have bells, I mainly kept it to preserve the flow of her song (see below cut for her version!). Based on their status and appearance in their absolute final running days in 1984. They may look glossy and pretty (if a WILD time warp) but they were on their absolute last gasp physically at this point after running for nearly 50 years, due to a lack of suitable replacement. Her dress follows a similar logic to Greaseball's outfit in that it represents the streamlined cowl, which is why she's less mechanical than most.

Personality-wise, she's also oooooold and based on Ella Fitzgerald, even more heavily than OLC Belle since she's fits perfectly with the time/place/personality of the GG1s. Both started in the mid-30s in New York City, and were noted for being "effortless" and almost unparalleled in their field. I tend to imagine her playing more on the "cute, humble, and improvisational" side of Ella, entering the big race just to have one last good run before she retires, and forgetting lyrics and making up something that sounds natural. In my mind she wins because the tracks are rough and winding, which she's far more used to that the other Nationals, with how decrepit parts of her Northeast Corridor were in the 80s and still are now- experience is a quality that counts for a lot!

She toes the line between OC and AU since she's such a twist on the original but stays largely true to her general concept. I'll call her more of an AU and say anyone is free to use this interpretation if they want, I'm not possessive of it at all.

Realistically she'd be dead as a doornail after 1984 (GG1s will just never run in preservation, they were in such bad shape and would need so much work to function on modern systems you may as well build a new replica). But make a cheeky joke about Controls' mom "sticking the old shell on a new body and not telling the kid" and she can come back. I like to think she'd have a flirty, playful rivalry with Momma/Poppa, she'd make Light At The End Of The Tunnel a duet about how steam is great.... for power plants! The Pennsylvania Railroad just stopped getting more steam engines when it electrified lines vs axing them so she wouldn't have any historical antagonism with them.

Here's my rewrite of Belle's Song largely following the original format, but now about the real history of the GG1s

Speed and youth ain't everything

Experience is a quality that counts for a lot

The sad thing 'bout experience is

By the time you've got it

It's usually all you've got...

I'm Belle, Belle, Belle, the GG1

Had my fifty years of fun

My frame is cracked, I’m almost done

Though in my heart, I long to run

I hauled the folks, I hauled the freight

I made good time, no need to wait

Just couple up and ride with me

I’d get you where you want to be

Once I was the hope for the future, wires run from coast to coast

Service every hour, to everywhere, hauling the post!

Now it’s just tragic…

The war then came, it all fell down

Restriction made the new tech drown

Let autos win, pave over it all

Watched the railroads slowly fall

Still I was a real mainliner, they struggled to replace me

Ran commuter trains into the ground

Down by the sea…. At least it was scenic

Oh, Belle, Belle, Belle, the GG-LOST

I’m worn down, yet I’m still boss

I may not be first class, but I'm not yet worst class

I can still take you when the night is dark

I’m withered, but I ain’t lost my spark

#starlight express #stex #stex au #belle the sleeping car #well... a heavily reimagined roleswap of her #my art #and YES that song is a heavily abridged if pretty accurate summary of their irl history #honestly i think giving canon momma a variant of belles song in place of the blues would improve her a lot #it’s such a nothingburger song vs one that gives a lot of backstory. I don’t hate it musically like i am me but it just means NOTHING #also “ungodly old electric engine/multi unit” is a painfully underused thing in train media for how it’s fairly common irl #a notable number last for 50-60 years and you’ll have museum pieces just casual running commuter/lower end trains #“oh an excursion…. wait a minute this station is FULL of them those are just the regular cheaper trains in Sweden and France!”

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batmannotes · 3 months ago

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McFarlane Toys - DC Direct Batman Classic TV Series (1966) Cowl Replica 1:1 Scale

Product Description

Kapow! The debonair millionaire Bruce Wayne may seem like your average cool cat, but you would be wrong! With the flip of a Shakespeare head bust and… to the Batcave! Gotham City is filled with a rogue’s gallery of criminals eager to unmask the Batman, but they are thwarted by the Caped Crusader’s own clever ways.

1:1 SCALE COWL REPLICA based on the Batman: Classic TV Series from 1966

Stands approximately 21" tall (including the base)

Includes display stand

Collect all McFarlane Toys DC Direct Replica Cowls

Preorder now at Amazon. Direct link here.

#batman #mcfarlanetoys #toy #news #notes

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grits-galraisedinthesouth · 25 days ago

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Will Melania's 2025 Inauguration Outfits surpass her 2017 Ralph Lauren & Hervé Pierre outfits?

Inauguration Fashion Poll: Melania Trump

I can't imagine Melania Trump topping her 2016 Ralph Lauren Tiffany blue/powder blue suit or her Hervé Pierre "vanilla silk crepe off-the-shoulder gown with slit skirt, ruffled accent trim from neckline to hem and a claret ribbon around the waist."

Poll:

Melania Trump’s Blue Suit Pattern: Over the years I’ve studied everything I could about America’s First Ladies – from their favorite colors to their decorating schemes, and – of course – what they wore. No matter what political opinions they or their husbands held, I think of them as an integral part of my country’s history, and a representation of what fashion was doing at the time they lived at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.Naturally this year I was rather curious to see what the incoming First Lady would choose for her inauguration attire, since she was a former model and is given to wearing rather expensive outfits! While I didn’t like her inaugural ballgown at ALL, I thought her Ralph Lauren powder blue dress and matching bolero were STUNNING. With the almost 1960s French twist in her hair, and those long, elegant gloves, she looked effortlessly classic and chic. Honestly, I think Melania’s inaugural outfit was the most beautiful one we have seen in years. So imagine my surprise when Vogue Patterns just released a nearly identical replica of it in their Fall 2017 collection! (Vogue 9266) Vogue Patterns nailed all the details of this design – from the crossover cowl neck to the raglan sleeves. They also show a picture of the dress without the bolero on, which you would have only noticed on Inauguration Day if you watched the luncheon in the Capitol rotunda. (Pictures below).Both dresses have diagonal darts at the neckline and 3/4 length sleeves. The Vogue Patterns version has looser sleeves than Melania’s, but it looks like the First Lady’s version actually took a zipper to get into the sleeves! Both versions appear to be made from a beautiful wool coating material.For my part, I think Melania Trump is a true connoisseur of fashion, and I’m certain she will go down in history as an icon of First Lady’s style. And now I’m really tempted to buy this pattern and recreate her outfit! Thanks to Vogue Patterns for recreating this gorgeous suit!

Happy Sewing, Katrina

First Lady Melania Trump formally presented the gown she wore to the 2017 inaugural balls to the Smithsonian’s First Ladies Collection, Friday, Oct. 20, during a ceremony at the National Museum of American History. The gown will be displayed in the center of the museum’s popular exhibition, “The First Ladies,” beginning today.

Mrs. Trump’s dress is a vanilla silk crepe off-the-shoulder gown with a slit skirt, ruffled accent trim from neckline to hem and a claret ribbon around the waist designed by Hervé Pierre in collaboration with Mrs. Trump. Pierre is a French American fashion and costume designer.

For decades, the First Ladies Collection has been one of the most popular attractions at the Smithsonian. The original first ladies exhibition of 1914 was the first display at the Smithsonian to prominently feature women. The exhibition itself has changed in size, location, style and narrative several times over the years.

“Today Melania Trump is taking part in a more than century-old tradition,” said John Gray, director of the museum. “The first inaugural gown donated to the Smithsonian was by Helen Taft, and more than 100 years later we are proud to have Melania Trump donate to this extraordinary collection.”

“The First Ladies” exhibition features 26 dresses and more than 160 other objects, ranging from those of Martha Washington to Melania Trump, and includes White House china, personal possessions and other objects from the Smithsonian’s unique collection of first ladies’ materials, established in 1912. Among the dresses displayed in the exhibition are Grace Coolidge’s flapper-style evening gown, Jackie Kennedy’s yellow-silk gown worn to the Kennedy administration’s first state dinner in 1961 and Eleanor Roosevelt’s slate blue crepe gown, which she wore to the 1933 inaugural ball. First ladies are unofficial but critical members of presidential administrations. For more than 200 years, the public has judged their clothes, their parties, their projects and their roles in the White House.

“It is an honor and a privilege to dedicate my inaugural gown to such an iconic exhibit at the National Museum of American History,” said First Lady Melania Trump.

The exhibition examines this in four main sections: “The Fashionable First Lady” explores the public’s interest in the first ladies’ fashions. Only a few first ladies have become fashion icons, inspiring trends and promoting American designers, but all have had their wardrobes scrutinized by the American public, continuing the debate over what is “appropriate” for presidential style.

“The Nation’s Hostess” looks at the role that the First Lady has played for the nation and the presidential administrations. Each reception or dinner is an opportunity for the First Lady to help build America’s international relationships, win political friends and public support for the President, or further his administration’s legislative agenda. Each First Lady puts her own stamp on presidential hospitality.

“Inauguration and Opportunities” looks at the inauguration of a President as a time of optimism and new beginnings. In addition to attending ceremonies and balls, incoming first ladies often announce the agendas and special projects they intend to pursue. Some projects are ambitious. Some are traditional. Some may be controversial.

“Changing Times, Changing First Ladies” highlights Dolley Madison, Mary Lincoln, Edith Roosevelt and Lady Bird Johnson, who all fashioned their own ways of handling the White House, families, parties and politics. Through different times and circumstances, they crafted significant roles for themselves that they believed would allow them to best serve the President and the country.

Through incomparable collections, rigorous research and dynamic public outreach, the National Museum of American History explores the infinite richness and complexity of American history. It helps people understand the past in order to make sense of the present and shape a more humane future. The museum is located on Constitution Avenue N.W., between 12th and 14th Streets, and is open daily from 10 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. (closed Dec. 25). Admission is free.

#first lady melania #melania trump #trump inauguration #Fashion #First Lady Fashion #2025 inauguration #tumblr polls #FLOTUS

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frogaroundandfindout · 2 months ago

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“It has to be one of us, dick.”

“We’ve gone over this, Tim.”

Dick stands in front of Batman’s suit in the batcave and Tim confronts him. One of them has to be Batman, especially now that someone else is out there pretending to be him.

“Living underground, wearing a replica of my father’s suit and fighting crime. You almost sound like Batman. But you’re not. Nowhere close. There can only be one Batman.”

Tim thinks that this fake Batman wants to be caught because of all the clues he’s intentionally leaving behind.

“And maybe [batman] isn’t me either. But Dick is against taking on the mantle. The piubt of cintentuon being tahtvhe bekives no one shoukd take Batmans place. But look at what’s happened to Gotham without the Dark Knight.”

Battle for the Cowl #1

#dc #dick grayson #nightwing #battle for the cowl #dick and Bruce #tim and dick #tim and Bruce

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the-inkwell-variable · 30 days ago

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range of emotions tag

thank you, @drchenquill, for the tag! i've never done this one before, so i'm excited to see the results!

OKAY THIS TURNED OUT WAY LONGER THAN I'D PLANNED. the rest is under the cut so i don't clutter your feed with my nonsense. i hope you enjoy seeing my people experience emotions! click now, go click!

DUNCAN - JOY

"Hiii-yah!" The large flat-screen TV crashed to the ground, a crack splintering across the screen. Kia rolled her eyes despite the grin creeping across her face. "You're having too much fun with this." "You're just jealous of the karate master." He chopped the bulky speaker with his hand and whined as the speaker didn't break, in spite of the pain shooting across his fingers. "Oh yeah? And what makes you so special, karate master?" Duncan patted his legs, the somewhat rusted metal gleaming blue against the string of LED lights that surrounded them. “Ultimate kick, baby. Even Bruce Lee got nothin’ on these. Look, look look look.” He jabbed his prosthetic at the offending speaker - it crunched under the pressure, shattering into little black and silver pieces. Even the wires were not safe from his force. “Can you do that?”

HARLEY QUINN - ANGER

[They’re innocent, Harley.] Harleen stepped up behind her to rest a hand on her shoulder, so gentle she could almost feel it. [You know that. Innocent people corrupted by a toxin they didn’t ask for. You know it’s not malicious. It’s not a prank against you. They’re sick, and their sickness is controlling their actions. Wouldn’t it be better to help them, rather than kill them?] Harley stared at her reflection in the mirror - at Harleen, her every stupid hair in its stupid place. Her glasses perched so perfectly on her stupid smooth, never-broken nose. Her stupid neat lab coat perfectly contrasted Harley’s black and red corset. She was everything that Harley had once worked so hard to achieve. She was everything that Harley had left behind to stand beside her Puddin’, and now that Puddin’ was gone, she was trying to take over again. And it. Wasn’t. Happening. Harley’s fist shot out to smash against the mirror, sending lightning cracks through the silver-plated glass. Harleen flickered and vanished, leaving Harley alone with dark streaks through her make-up and smeared lipstick. Conflicted thoughts rumbled through her head, Harleen at war with Harley once again - she was right, the copies hadn’t done anything, they were just innocent people - but they were trying to copy the Joker, shitty replicas of the masterpiece, how dare they - but they didn’t mean to, it was a symptom of the disease, just like hoarding or addiction - but they had no right to remind her of him, they had NO RIGHT - “SHUT UP - SHUT UP - SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP”

ADEN - SADNESS

“You look awful, Aden.” [Aww, look at him. He needs a nice permanent nap. We could help with that. Isn’t that what you do? Help people? Get me his address, and I can help him sooo much! I wanna put a smile on that sad little face!] The man smiled, but it did not, could not, reach his eyes. “I’m planning to take a nap after this, don’t worry. Did you make it out of the city, Bruce?” Bruce nodded. “Left yesterday. I’m in my penthouse in Metropolis. Aden–” “It’s bad, Bruce.” Aden rubbed his eyes with cracked hands, a rash forming on the heel of his palm. “It’s really bad. You know those people that got bitten during care and transport?” “Hard to forget.” “They’re all experiencing symptoms. Every single one of them.”

BATMAN - NERVOUS

He perched across from Gotham General Hospital, watching the emergency lights flickering inside. It was uncomfortable to see the place so…dead. For it was dead – despite the sporadic flash within, there was no life in those walls. It wasn’t like him to be nervous. After more than a decade in the cape and the cowl, he’d long ago learned to bully back the fear and lock it in a cell within his mind. But sitting here, seeing the corpse of a place normally so filled with life… it unsettled him. He wanted nothing more than to turn around, drop into the Batmobile, and continue interrogating that paramilitary soldier that had attempted to run down Officer Kevern in the square. [Who knew the great and powerful Wizard of Bat was a coward? Bawwwk bawk bawk - not a bat but a chicken! You disguised yourself as the wrong bird, Bats!]

JAZZ - FEAR

Kia turned back in a daze. The commander was sitting up now, as if the chunk of flesh torn from his clavicle didn’t faze him. A white film covered his eyes, just like Rashad’s. Thick white foam dribbled from his blue lips. He swayed back and forth for a moment before pushing himself to his feet. His head slumped to the side, his neck no longer able to support its weight. With a savage snarl, he threw himself at Jazz. This time, the soldiers didn’t hesitate. Jazz shrieked and dropped to their knees as a hail of bullets peppered the wall behind them. The commander shook and thrashed as several bullets buried into his flesh. After a moment, he collapsed, a pool of his own blood spreading slowly from his still body. Jazz didn’t move. They stayed cowered before the body, the broom brandished in front of them. Soft whimpers and distant screams filled the night sky. One more groan filtered from the stairwell. Duncan dragged himself forward, hands slapping at anything that could give purchase. One soldier stepped forward and ended him with a single shot to the head. Kia didn’t watch her best friend’s execution. Her eyes were locked on Jazz. She’d never seen the petty thief so cowed, so terrified. And they had every right to be. Her own body buzzed with adrenaline, yet she was a cold marble statue. Even her jacket wasn’t enough to keep her from shivering.

JASON TODD / THE ARKHAM KNIGHT - ANXIETY

A sharp pain lanced through his chest with every beat of his thundering heart. Every ragged pant tore through him, yet not one brought the sweet chill of oxygen to his lungs - his throat constricted, invisible hands clamping down. His hands tightened on the edge of the desk til his knuckles were white and a fingernail cracked, but no pain accompanied the injury. He recognized what was happening, but from a distance, watching himself from the corner of the room rather than experiencing it in his own body. He was spiraling, and he could do nothing but watch helplessly as he succumbed to the panic that the situation forced upon him. [That’s what I tried so hard to teach you, little birdie! You’re a failure. You haven’t even started yet and you’re already a failure. It’s okay to give up, you know. No one will even know! Except for me – and we both know I’ll remind you every single day. There’s no fun in failure if it doesn’t haunt your nightmares!] A warm hand rested on his arm, a comforting if temporary distraction from the ice that gripped him. He raised his head to meet a steady gaze. “They’ll evacuate.” Anderson’s tone left no room for argument. “The commissioner has strong morals, doesn’t he?” Jason nodded. “A man like that will not let the populace stay in the city. He’ll move mountains to save as many people as he can. That’s how you described him. “I assure you, he’s doing whatever he can to convince the mayor to -” Breaking news – Mayor Dixon has called an emergency press conference regarding the unfortunate tragedy at Pauli’s Diner on Grand Avenue. Reporting live at the scene is Brad Wilson, chief correspondent. Do we know anything about what this speech will cover, Brad? Both sets of eyes flicked to the small TV as a well-groomed man beneath a clear umbrella spoke into a microphone. “Breathe, Jason” Anderson urged, though his eyes remained locked on the news broadcast. “You’re going to give yourself a heart attack. Slow breaths, like we practiced.” For a moment, Jason rebelled against the instruction. He was the Arkham Knight. Anderson was just a lieutenant – his right hand man, yes, but still beneath him. Who was he to order around his superior like that? …but he was right. Breathing like this would only force his heart to pound faster, keep him trapped in the cycle of panic. He forced himself to slow down, to inhale for two seconds, hold it in for two seconds, release it for three seconds. His chest ached with the effort, but after several breaths, he found it came easier and easier.

KIA - DISGUST

"Yo." Duncan straightened, his eyes locked on the window. "I think Asher's waking up." Kia shoved the thought back down and forced her attention back to her friend. He was moving under the doctor's gloved hand, but something was…wrong. His shoulders jerked hard enough to lift his torso off the bed, over and over. The doctor barely seemed to notice as he turned to face the IV stand. The nurse pulled a strap from the side of the bed and leaned across his twitching body to grab its other half. Asher's head shot forward. The nurse let out an ear piercing scream as his teeth snapped closed on her ear. Blood sprayed against the flashing machines that filled half the room. The doctor spun around, the window silencing his shouts. He grabbed the nurse’s shoulders as Asher fought against his restraints, his gleaming teeth never loosening on her ear, a rabid dog clinging to a prize bone. Duncan shouted in alarm and shot off down the hall toward Shannon. Kia could not move, her face pressed against but not feeling the cold glass. Thick red drool dripped from her best friend’s mouth. She was trapped in a screening for a horror movie, and all she could do was stare. And just like that, it was over. Asher’s body slumped back onto the bed, dragging a gold hoop from the stubbed remains of the nurse’s ear. The doctor rushed her out of the room, shoving past Kia with a shout. Shannon caught the nameless victim as she stumbled, and she helped the doctor usher her away. Hands grabbed her arms, spun her around. Duncan spoke, his expression etched with worry, but Kia didn’t know what he said. Even with her hearing aids still turned on, she couldn’t hear a thing. That wasn’t Asher, not anymore. But as Duncan guided her down the hallway to the elevator, she couldn’t stop wondering who - or what - the hell her friend had become.

DISGUST

apparently I don't have any disgust??? in this very gorey fic about zombies??? WHAT

EMBARRASSMENT

NO EMBARRASSMENT EITHER???? well good thing that's about to change hehehe

#talia answers #the corpse and the killer #range of emotions tag

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darkdemeter · 4 months ago

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SCP 3456.2 D also known as War is a Thaumiel Class entity who’s the most physically strongest amongst his siblings. Honorable, brutish, and large, he tends to solve things directly and violently though is more reasonable than SCP 3456.2 C. Tends to spend his time training by himself or even MTFs and has fought other SCPs such as SCP 076, 096, and even the infamous 682. Further examination of his weapon Chaoseater had the Foundation recreate another weapon with similar materials.

[ AUTHENTICATION REQUESTED ]

∎ LOADING FILE . . .

[ ACCESS GRANTED :) ]

Profiled tag: SCP-3456-2-D "War"

Class: Thaumiel (risk of Apollyon level)

SCP description:

Standing at around 8'1 in height and ranked heavy in the weight spectrum, War is a classification of a juggernaut. Bulky and cantankerous, he has demonstrated his ability that proves his physical strength is unmatched and can only be bested by a superior combat thinking mind.

As his sibling. SCP-3456-B "Strife" has mentioned, it took all three of them combined to subdue him when he was in a state of bloodlust and rage.

Adorned in a variety of armour sculpts of harrowing, haunting and grotesque visages of tormented faces, the only part of him that remains uncovered is his face, revealing a light but more natural skin tone but not without the draped scarlet cowl that crowns a hood over his head, obscuring mainly the upper portion of his face in shadow. A searing crescent appears to be tattooed on his forehead, the spiked ends pointed downward and crossing over the bright, blue-white coloured eyes. Beneath his cowl is long, white hair.

War has a very direct approach when it comes to overcoming challenges ahead of himself, often through brute force as his primary charge but despite this, he has proven himself to have a deep-rooted code of honour that keeps his otherwise brutish nature in check. Understanding and able to reason, this is a stark contrast to his fellow SCP-3456-C. He also has a great and key mind for tactics and war-path strategy, earning him access to being the directive head of planning MTFs missions and assignments.

When not restricted to the confines of his containment cell and freely roams the site, he can be found either training by himself or training numerous MTF squads.

For his viscous calling to battle, War is eager to engage a threat head on if it means to protect and preserve, Whether this ideology stems from his code of upholding the balance or to keep his siblings safe. So far, War has come into contact with SCP-076 and 096 and also 682 a handful of times, seemingly determined to eliminate this threat that defies the course of natural order.

As for his weapon, Chaoseater, (SCP-2-D-HC) the weapon is infused to him and somehow pertains a slivered amount of his very lifeforce; perhaps granting him a near immortal state should his physical body die then the blade can somehow act as a form of resurrections point. The blade is as tall as he is alone and not counting the hilt. A wide frame makes up the blade and like his armour, it has a magnitude of sculpted moaning faces.

Though not as semi-sentiant as the Harvester or as magically possessed, the Chaoseater does carry a dark and powerful aura about it. It is bound to War in a way that only enables him to be its wielder and though there have been attempts to replicate the blade during its forging process, there has been no success. Each time there has been a replica of Chaoseater, it quivers and the metal cracks and splinters when in the presence of its parent variant - almost as if it refuses to be copied.

The blade also has a tether to War's ferocity in battle and is able to increase War's tenacity amidst his conflicts. The blade does not require a sheath and by some magical possession, the blade has the ability to stick to War's back with ease, unable to be dislodged unless compelled by its wielder.

For War's second counterpart, he too rides on an equine of his own unique design. Much like each of the Horsemen, War's steed reflects his rider's personality and aspects. The largest of the Horsemen's mounts, Ruin (SCP-2-D-ER) has the appearance of a draft or war horse. A fiery and temperamental creature only able to calm by the hand of his rider.

With a dark ebony coat as hard as rock and smoldering hot as magma, a line of carven runes line the side of his neck, the language or meaning behind such markings is unknown. Unlike Despair, Ruin's coat may be lacking of evident hair, there is a smoothness to his body and his mane and tail are made of coarse, long hair. From within he is like a volcanic surge, a fiery amber glowing from the eyes, nostrils and markings or scarring on his body with his cracked hooves also being engulfed by flame.

#dem's inbox reply #darksiders #darksiders scp au

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comicchannel · 3 months ago

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DC Multiverse DC Direct Batman Classic TV Series (1966) Cowl Replica - McFarlane Toys

Link para compra BR: *Possível importar pelo Link abaixo

Buy here: https://amzn.to/4d0Djo2

#dc #comics #McFarlane #action figure #dc multiverse #dc direct #Replica #Cowl #Cowl Replica #batman #batman 1966 #Batman Classic TV Series #bruce wayne #adam west #statue

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harlequinncosplay · 5 months ago

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♦️ SUICIDE SQUAD ♦️ MODERN JESTER SUIT

different than the classic suit shown in the flashback, the modern suit is made from the same fabric. in contrast to the OG animated suit, there are no diamonds on the thigh or arm. there is a gold zipper that seems to run all the way up the neck and collar line, implying it zips straight into the cowl. the gloves and shoes are built into the suit.

the zipper pull is the same crystalized J that is on the Property of Joker bomber jacket.

zipper replica pictured by AnimalSkin @ Etsy.

#harley quinn #harleen quinzel #harley quinn cosplay #margot robbie #suicide squad: jester #suicide squad 2016 #suicide squad

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felicitysmoaksx · 1 year ago

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Hi all! Man, I really need to stop getting ideas when I dog/house-sit for people. However, I will say this was originally an idea I had for my Arrow/Chicago Med/Titans crossover. I just wasn't meant to post or write anything for it until the first fic in this series was posted and honestly, I'm not sure if this is the way Team Arrow (And Team Flash) finds out about Sarah. So here's a quick little two-shot of a what-if scenario.

Rating: Mature

Summary: Mockingbird was a memory. Mockingbird was her past. A ghost that lingered from Gotham and Bruce. A ghost that was ash and soot now. So why was it staring her in the face now?

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Inaccurate medical procedures, and implied/references a canonical character death and canonical typical violence mentioned but doesn't go in depth

Read On AO3 | Fic Playlist

The Same Little Breaks in Your Soul

Sarah stared mutely at her reflection as it paced the length of her cell in the pipeline of Star Labs in Central City. Only the term reflection wasn’t quite accurate either because Sarah-the one that wasn’t locked up-was alert and awake. Nor did she have the jagged scar that ran down the length of the other Sarah’s face.

“What do you call her?” She wasn’t even sure who she was talking to; there were too many people in the lab. But her gaze found Clark’s. Then she found Connor’s-her boyfriend, not Superboy. He had slipped off the bloody gloves and washed his hands, but the brunette could still see the other Sarah’s blood on his hands from where he had to sew the stab wound in her stomach.

It was Barry Allen, still in his Flash suit, who answered her though. “Like we explained before the universe is actually a multiverse and there are-”

“Fifty-two Earths. Yeah, I got that.” Sarah held up a hand to stop the lengthy explanation, “But what do you call her? Because she isn’t me.”

Yet, the woman pacing around her cell was Sarah Athena Grayson. Same as she was. She could tell from the way the other Sarah held herself. The way she shifted her weight from foot to foot. The downward turn of her lips and the way she wrinkled her forehead. But the faraway look in her eyes? That was all Bruce. If she was being honest though, maybe she was just seeing that look because of the bat-suit and cowl she wore. An exact replica of the one Bruce had made and unveiled on hers and Dick’s eighteenth birthday. A suit she’d rather burn than wear.

Too bad she hadn’t been able to make it to Gotham the night she burned her Mockingbird suit.

“Doppelgängers,” it was Barry again, “They’re us, but just different versions of us.”

Sarah fell silent. Nodding once more, before her eyes shifted to study the other versions of her little brothers: Jason, Tim, and Damien. This was confirmed by three phone calls she made earlier. Her Jason Todd and Tim Drake were in Gotham while Damien Wayne was still in San Francisco with Dick.

Connor was still staring at her; she could tell from her peripheral vision, with that same guarded expression he had been wearing since he saw her dodge a punch Superman and Superboy came at her with and blew kryptonite dust that she kept on hand because old habits die hard, in their faces, before she backflipped and rounded a kick into the younger kryptonian’s chest while launched a punch at Superman.

“How did they get here, if they’re from another Earth?”

“They had to breach here somehow. But another question to ask is why are they here?” Cisco Ramon answered, typing on a keyboard and the footage of the doppelgängers disappeared and was replaced by some kind of security video.

In the video, it was dark and quiet. Nothing had happened yet. Then a large orb-like portal appeared. A second later, Sarah stiffened at the sight of The Joker. He laughed maniacally before he threw something sharp into the portal. Then he took off in a run as the other version of herself fell through the portal. She was clutching her stomach where a dark red maroon spot was forming. She fell. Her prone form on the asphalt of the alleyway.

“Turn it off,” Sarah flinched, even though she knew the other woman would be alright. She, Connor, and Dr. Snow would make sure of it. “Please.”

The footage instantly vanished and it was back to the sight of her reflection pacing the length of her cell once more.

“They were chasing the Joker.” Cal-El slurred his words a little, probably still feeling dizzy from the effects of the kryptonite dust she blew at him and Superboy. She nodded before glancing at the crowd around her, “How closely do these other Earths resemble ours?”

“It varies from Earth to Earth but there is no true way of knowing unless we talk to them.” Barry answered again, “Why?”

“Because Joker is dead on our Earth. Batman killed him after an…emotional breakdown.”

“Are you sure about that?” Oliver asked. He sounded skeptical. Sarah shot him a look, but he didn’t waver in his question or his stare. It was easy to see through his playboy facade now and in its place was something darker.

The Green Arrow and Connor’s brother was The Magician, Information she was given as they rushed to Central City to help save the other Sarah Grayson. (Though no one knew that at the time. All they knew was the call Cisco made to Tommy requesting for his brother because “Caitlin says she needs help with the surgery. She’s never done one.”) Two people who like her, were wearing a version of themselves as a mask. It made her wonder how she missed it. When she didn’t answer, he added: “It’s been my experience that unless you see a body yourself, there is always a chance that the person is still alive.”

The brunette knew the tone and had heard Bruce use it many times before. It was a hard tone that scared people off. Made people not want to question him with an air of finality. But Sarah had grown up with Bruce Wayne as Batman since she was thirteen. She didn’t get scared as easily as some people.

Folding her arms, the brunette stood up straighter and walked a few steps forward so she was directly in front of Oliver.

“Besides the fact that every news outlet in Gotham did a story about it, body included by the way or what was left of it anyways. Batman left my-” she started icily before she caught herself almost revealing Dick’s identity, “-the original Robin with a bloody crowbar. It was filled with the Joker’s blood. Too much blood to be surviveable. So yeah, Oliver. I’m sure.”

“What are you?”

“Excuse me?” Sarah questioned hotly. Connor stepped forward, inserting himself between the two of them.“Oliver. Enough. Come on, it’s already been a rough day.”

“No, it’s not enough. Because she knows way too much about Batman, who’s an urban legend by the way for a normal person. She blew kryptonite dust, something she had on hand, on Clark and his kid with Clark’s disguise in place. Not to mention the way she rounded that kick and made that punch perfectly as if she had been trained to do that. Then you have her.” Oliver pointed a finger at the screen to where the other Sarah was still pacing, “Wearing a suit looking like a Batwoman.”

“Oliver, maybe Connor’s right-” Tommy stepped forward now, keeping a hand between his twin brother and best friend.

“Batman,” Sarah interrupted before she could think about it because Kate deserved that recognition. “There’s already a Batwoman. Both of whom, are not urban legends. Ask the Man of Steel or The Heir to the Demon if you don’t want to believe me.”

Now the Merlyn twin brothers both turned to look at her with the same guarded expression Connor wore earlier in both of their eyes. But it was Tommy who asked quietly, “How do you know about the league?”

“I’m telling you something isn’t adding up about her,” Oliver told them with his voice low and menacing as he shook his head, his gaze narrowing on her. As if the single look would force her to tell him.

“Oliver,” Clark stood up and moved, probably to stop the fight that was brewing between Green Arrow and her. “It’s okay, I can vouch for-”

“She’s the Mockingbird.” Nyssa Al Ghul announced to the room and up until this point she had been ignoring Damien’s aunt, until now Sarah turned to glare at the other woman.

“Al Ghul shut your mouth-” Sarah warned in a snarl, but she knew the damage done. The Fucking League. She hated them almost as much as she hated ninjas.

“Mockingbird as in Batman, Robin, and Mockingbird?” Barry asked, looking from Sarah to Nyssa. His gaze slightly lit up as he eyed Sarah with a renewed interest. But Sarah got the sense it was more of a fanboy moment than lust in his gaze.

“Yes, Mr. Allen.” The heir of the demon inclined her head to the man in the flash suit as she continued to speak. “And Batman’s chosen successor to the cowl but she never accepted the honor of taking the mantle.”

The honor of taking the mantle…More like horror.

“But I thought…Mockingbird was dead? Because they only found the charred remains of her suit in San Francisco five years ago.” Felicity questioned softly as her eyes turned on her.

Sarah flinched again and stepped back from the prying eyes. Yet that didn’t help. She still felt like…like before. Like she was drowning and no matter how hard she swam or tried to keep her head above water, a weight kept weighing her down. Like when her parents died or she put on the suit for the last time.

“You could be a better Batman than me.” Bruce with all of his expectations. The Titans broke up after Garth was killed and…now this other Sarah wearing the Bat cowl.

She was getting sucked back into this world of masks, superheroes and vigilantes. She could feel it. Helping out Dick sporadically over the last few years was only the tipping point back into the world.

“Air,” she muttered to no one in particular because she needed to do something, anything to get away from this drowning feeling weighing her down, “I need air.”

Then, before anyone could say anything to her, Sarah darted out of the laboratory.

#chicago med #one chicago #titans dc #cw arrow #arrow cw #Sarah Reese #Connor Rhodes #Tommy Merlyn #dick grayson #Clark Kent #connor kent #Oliver Queen #Cisco Ramon #nyssa al ghul #barry allen #felicity smoak #my writing

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donnahinkleystaceytroy · 1 year ago

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Lot #55: BATMAN & ROBIN (1997) - Batgirl's (Alicia Silverstone) Ice Armour Costume

Batgirl's (Alicia Silverstone) ice armour costume from Joel Schumacher's Batman & Robin. Batgirl donned her ice armour costume to aid Batman (George Clooney) and Robin (Chris O'Donnell) in saving Gotham City from Mr. Freeze (Arnold Schwarzenegger), Poison Ivy (Uma Thurman), and Bane (Jeep Swenson) in the film's finale. The film had the third-highest opening weekend gross of 1997 and, at the time, the seventh-highest non-holiday opening weekend of all time.

Designed by Ingrid Ferrin, Robert Turturice, and Bob Ringwood with components sculpted by Jose Fernandez, this leather and foam latex costume consists of a dark blue foam cowl with pointed ears, a matching bodysuit with a zippered back and a silver-colour bat insignia on the chest, a matching leather corset with a lace-up back, a scalloped leatherette cape with resin shoulder clips, dark blue leather gloves with silver-colour resin fins, a silver-colour rubber belt with a simulated buckle featuring a bat insignia, and a pair of thigh-length high-heeled leather boots with silver-colour bat insignias near the tops. The gloves and boots are replicas added to complete the costume. The entire costume has been mounted to a mannequin display made in Silverstone's likeness featuring green eyes, eyelashes, blonde hair, and painted details in the skin and lips. The arms are removable. The costume exhibits wear from use and age, including cracking in the foam elements, most notably in the shoulders and the bridge of the cowl's nose. Dimensions: (displayed) 43.25 cm x 61 cm x 183 cm (17" x 24" x 72")

Special shipping required; see notice in the Buyer's Guide.

Estimate: £10,000 - 20,000 US https://tinyurl.com/yc5v6mrh

#batman and robin #batgirl #alicia silverstone

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amaurotine-daydreaming · 1 year ago

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XXIII. Suit

“Milord.” Lyna snapped her feet together, straightened her back, and braced her arms in a Crystarium salute.

Under his cowl, a broad smile spread across the Exarch’s face. “At ease, Lyna. Allow me to offer my congratulations on your induction into the Crystarium Guard.”

Even at sixteen summers, Lyna was now more than a full head taller than her guardian. She relaxed her stance and allowed herself a small smile down at him.

“I do not wish to keep you from your duties,” said the Exarch, “but if you have a moment, I have prepared a gift for you to mark the occasion.”

Lyna crossed her arms, turning wry. “Favoritism, my lord?”

He shrugged, still smiling. “I pray you will humor my indulgence as a proud guardian, just this once.”

She unfolded her arms, feeling the slightest bit the proud daughter despite herself. “Very well.”

—

There were years–about ten, precious years–in Lyna’s childhood where the Exarch had seen her express herself without reservation, years in which she allowed herself the carefree joy and open curiosity to which all children should be granted.

But the outside world gradually crept in, as the outside world is wont to do. He had always sought to give her as peaceful a young life as possible in the protective embrace of the Crystarium, without hiding her from the realities of this Light-drowned world. The Twelve knew she had suffered tragedy at the hands of the Light young, as so many did.

Then Lyna reached adolescence, and the Exarch watched as she withdrew into herself more. With his own quietude and painstakingly crafted persona of stoicism, he supposed he had not helped.

He did not begrudge her this change, but neither would he deny the joy he felt seeing pride in her eyes at the induction ceremony, and again standing before him; she hid it well, but he knew she was moved that he thought to mark the occasion with a gift.

“You will be familiar with this room,” the Exarch said, unlocking one of the nigh countless chambers of the Tower. Within was an armory stocked with racks upon racks of weaponry: bows, polearms, staves, swords…

Lyna’s lips parted with awe. “This room…I do not remember how I managed to find it the first time, and I never could again.”

“Which was just as well, for it is no place for a child,” the Exarch said, with a chastened laugh. “I fear I am at fault for it having been accessible in the first place.

“With your induction to the Guard, I wanted to give you the opportunity to consider the specialty you wish to pursue.” He swept his hand in a broad arc. “Whichever you feel suits you, I will have a replica commissioned.”

“I…do not know what to say,” Lyna breathed, looking around at the widest array of armaments that probably existed anywhere in Norvrandt. Some of them she didn’t even recognize. “Or, for that matter, where to begin.”

“Any choice you make need not be permanent.”

She turned to look over her shoulder. “But you, milord…you have mastered more than one art.”

“I also have had many more years to hone my skills,” he reminded her. “And even with the benefit of that time, a jack of all trades is, as they say, the master of none. There was even a time I wielded a bow, but I found my true calling in the arcane.”

Lyna ran her hand down the length of a compound bow. He had once been an archer? Or perhaps even a bard. But she did not ask, not anymore–instead she tucked away this new, treasured detail in her heart for safekeeping.

The Exarch glanced over his shoulder at the staff he carried ever near at hand. “Even when I turn to other arts as necessary, they derive from spellcraft–armaments crafted from aether, not steel. Otherwise I would not have the strength to wield them.” He smiled. “I couldn’t help but notice, however, that spellcraft does not seem to be in your area of interest.”

“No, milord,” Lyna admitted. “I find more comfort in the weight of steel.”

“Let us put aside spellcasting, then.” The Exarch walked further into the room, beyond the staves and scepters and battered leather grimoires. Lyna followed.

“I see that you are considering the bow,” he said. “Archery can be a prudent choice in your encounters with sin eaters. You will have the ability to strike them down before they can reach you, or if they are in flight. It will also allow you to aid someone if you are too far away to reach them on foot. However, I need not tell you that you will be at a disadvantage should their ranks close in around you.”

He stopped–they had reached a section of exclusively martial weapons. Lyna scanned through a variety of spiked horas, claws, and short blades. She tested the weight of a dagger in her hand, then carefully set it down again. The Exarch had intuited correctly, she realized: she wanted to be able to help her comrades-in-arms, no matter where she stood on the battlefield. Her chest tightened to think that her choice of weapon could cost lives–even her own–simply because she hadn’t been able to choose an appropriate weapon to master for her role….

The Exarch, it seemed, knew her better than she knew herself. And yet here she was, more than dozen summers in his care and still hoarding what little she knew of him like a starveling finding breadcrumbs. Her shoulders fell in a sigh.

“Lyna? Is something amiss?”

“No, my lord. It is simply…a lot of choices.”

Lyna moved on to a double-headed battle axe and stopped to gaze up at it.

“Ah, the labrys,” said the Exarch, with a note of wistfulness. “I once knew a woman who….” He stopped and shook his head. “My apologies, that is neither here nor there. What you should know is that in practiced hands, it can become a cyclone of steel, a nigh-impenetrable wall of both offense and defense. As well it should be, since it would be your only defense.”

“May I take it down?”

“Of course. See how it feels, and mind the weight of it.”

Grasping the labrys’s haft with both hands, Lyna gingerly lifted it from the rack…and staggered slightly under its weight. Her cheeks burned, but she managed not to drop the weapon.

“Rest the haft and blade horizontally and spread your hands apart to distribute the weight, or keep your hands closer to the base and use your shoulder as a rest.”

Lyna heaved the weapon up and, in an effort not to accidentally take off part of her ear, dropped the haft so close to the edge of her shoulder she nearly toppled. The Exarch instinctively went to steady her, but she was quick to balance herself and he respectfully stood back.

“Quite intimidating, if I do say so myself.”

Lyna rolled her eyes, embarrassed.

“It is a bit heavy,” she admitted. “I will adjust to it in time, I am sure, but…” She frowned, shifting her weight and looking up at it. “Such weight feels counterproductive to mobility.”

She gingerly tilted the labrys forward. Its weight fell off her shoulder and the haft landed in her waiting palm.

“I am coming closer to a decision,” she stated, and replaced the axe on the rack. She was grateful the Exarch was never a man to laugh at someone else’s struggles, because putting the weapon back did not turn out to be as graceful an act as she would’ve liked. But she managed.

On the next rack were a selection of swords and shields, and further down from that were lances. Lyna walked over to the lances first. These were much easier to pick up, and she examined her choice up and down.

“This one I am partial to,” she said. “It has range and mobility, and…what is this?” She pointed to the top of the lance, where splitting from the simple metal point was a curved head, almost like a sickle, as well as a few barbs.

“Ah, the guisarme,” said the Exarch, smiling. “It’s specialized to hook and trip as well as impale.”

That sounded quite useful. But… Lyna ran her fingers along the wood haft.

“There is a danger of it breaking, yes. ‘Tis a risk to all weapons, of course, but for this one the drawback is more pronounced. However, it would be more than possible for the artisans of the Mean to fashion a more durable haft made from an alloy.”

Lyna hummed thoughtfully, frowning to herself. She replaced the guisarme on the rack for the moment and glanced back over at the swords and shields.

“Armaments of choice for some of the earliest and most storied heroes,” said the Exarch, looking over them with admiration fair glowing in his voice. “With one hand you may drive back the enemy, and with the other be a bulwark for yourself and innocents.”

“You sound like you’re enjoying this, my lord.”

The Exarch chuckled. “As you well know, I have a tendency towards nostalgia for the stories of eld.”

“And these?” Hanging nearby was a pair of disc-shaped blades. With her height Lyna easily reached them, and was careful to loop her fingers along the inner edges as she lifted them from their pegs. Even with gloves on, the gleam of the sharp metal served as ample warning of the cut it was capable of.

“Chakrams,” stated the Exarch, although in holding them Lyna now recognized them. They were an uncommon choice of weapon, but not an unheard of one. “An excellent weapon for mobility and range without sacrificing the sharpness of steel. With a simple attunement to your aether, you will be able to recall them without risk of injury.”

Lyna tested their weight. Of all of the weapons she had tried so far, this one felt the closest to right. Except…

She made a face.

“Ah,” said the Exarch, understanding. “Are you concerned about its associations?”

Lyna nodded curtly. Chakrams were sometimes used in twirling dances alongside sword-swallowers and other street performers. She did not want to introduce herself to the Guard’s ranks with a weapon that called to mind entertainment before aught else.

“I would encourage you not to dismiss them out-of-hand, as it were,” said the Exarch. “If you worry about the respect of your fellows, I believe that will come sooner than you think.”

She eyed him. “You will not intervene on my behalf in that, I trust?”

The Exarch put a hand over his heart, shaking his head. “On my word, I will not. I am simply stating my confidence in your abilities to inspire your comrades in the days to come.

“And I know you are not one to allow pride to lead you to forsake a weapon that may best suit you.”

Lyna looked down, humbled. “You are right, of course.”

With a chakram securely in each hand Lyna stretched her arms out, crossed them in front of her and then drew them back–a stretch in slow motion. Sharp. Lightweight. Mobile.

“Yes,” she said, holding one up to examine it more carefully in the light. “I believe these will suit me.”

#ffxivwrite2023 #ffxivwrite #ffxiv #lyna #crystal exarch #shadowbringers

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