#Out of Bears: ooc

[skegulium]

hey what's up

reblog this if you're a fantroll blog and you want me to follow you (and you're 18+ i'm not following minors lol)

[jane-lynndrake-t]

If you're about to head out, using your IV stand as a kind of polearm will be good for keeping people at a range. But you obviously still need to be wary of guns or other ranged weapons.

If you can make it outside, one of the best things you could do is scream "Fire" to actually attract anyone's attention, or to call out people by specific things they are wearing instead of "somebody help me".

What are some of the most shocking things you found out about? Unfortunately the last 20 years have progressed incredibly far, leaving people lost in the wake.

That’s the plan! I don’t think I could fight off being grabbed, but even if I’m shot at I’m resolved to run no matter what.

I’ve never heard of that before, but that’s such a good idea!

Honestly, nothing has overcome the shock of just how much time has passed.

But I do feel like I took a mini class in computer science while I was focusing on whether or not I could find my specific location.

[the-great-tiger-of-mumbai]

//Other things you can headcanon around your favorite boxers besides their favorite cereals, video games, shoe sizes, trans and gender, ships, Pokemon, etc:

Their favorite places to go within their birth cities.

Their favorite locally made movies (as in made in their country).

Their favorite local celebrities (from their own countries).

Their favorite local dishes (from their own countries).

The foreign country they want to go and why.

What other languages they can speak (that is not English or the featured language in the game).

Yes, there is a pattern here.

Part of why I absolutely love Punch-Out!! as a game series is how the boxers are internationally represented, even through national stereotypes. But national stereotypes can be fun and even embraced--as a Californian, I embrace Super Macho Man with all my heart. And you can indulge in stereotypes WITHOUT being racist.

I love Great Tiger in particular of all the Punch-Out!! boxers is because his stats and character themes suggest a very interesting background--no Hindu or Vedic imagery, even WITH clones (no multi-heads or arms imagery; the closest you get is Tiger connecting with nature and space), the building he was floating out of appears to be a gurdwara, the composer of his music is Punjabi, and though he comes from Mumbai, he speaks Hindi (when he could have spoken Marathi or Punjabi instead). Not to mention in the NES, Doc Louis has told Little Mac that Tiger's father was a magician. So there is SO much material to work with beyond just his clones.

I know folks are not willing to go the extra mile to do their research, or that research bores them to tears, but I still recommend going that extra mile on your headcanons of your favorite boxers. Glass Joe is not a 15 year old American high schooler, he's a 38 year old Frenchman. Von Kaiser is 42 and from Berlin. Soda is 35 and from Moscow. The headcanons are there, waiting, open for the filling.

It's an invitation to explore, not to avoid. It may feel like much, but trust me on this. Consider this your excuse to visit Madrid with Don Flamenco, who'll be more than happy to take you to other parts of Spain like Zaragoza, Sevilla, Pamplona, and Barcelona. Let Glass Joe talk your ears off on the beautiful fields of Province. Take in the sobering experiences of Von Kaiser living in post-WWII/Cold War Berlin.

If this doesn't help you fall more in love with your favorite boxers, then.... I don't know. You do you. You make your own fun. I'm just sad and lonely in my old people corner, lmao.

[gothamsaved]

Iiiiiii get a little scared me going off on long tangents in replies will scare some rp partners away. On the other hand, I love digging into a muses thoughts and emotions and especially for someone like Bruce, he has a lot going on in there while he also doesn’t typically say much unless he’s out actively socializing. It’s a strange thing where I’m still trying to find a comfortable balance or way to write both the Bat and Bruce, while making them sound like the same guy and also different, without smacking my head into a wall and overthinking things too much.

[irl-batsignal]

So, as a vigilant, on a scale from 1 to 10, how bad do you think it is if a person has been missing for 3 days? And there are very few clues as to their whereabouts

Well.. okay, that depends. If it's a regular civilian, the worry level continues the longer they're missing. But also, you need to pay attention to personality, who called in. There is so much that plays in on it.

But if its someone like Red Robin, him disappearing for 3 days is almost nothing. He'll choose to be found if he wants to be.

But obviously your missing person is not Red Robin. Unless.. But. Great chance its not.

Anyways, really, just. So much depends on the situation, the person's personality. Because I do know regular civilians who are my friends, who will disappear for a few days then show back up like nothing happened. But that's apart of their personality.

But. Just assuming to the first paragraph, I would put that worry at about a 5 out of 10.

But then again, I also know practically nothing. I would go to the missing person's close people to ask more about them. See what they know. All that regular vigilante/detective stuff.

But yeah. I'd put the level at about a 5 out of 10.

[mushroompollution]

Pieces

It's been three days since Elliot has seen his own bed.

One amazing day out with his best friend and equal, one exciting evening with his lover. He had fallen asleep with Leo in his arms, the happiest he had ever been.

But somewhere around midnight, that amazing evening had turned into one night in hell.

Elliot had awoken to an empty bed. After calling for his valet to no response, a feeling of dread had already settled in the pit of his stomach. He had gone to look for him, expecting, hoping to find Leo simply raiding the kitchen or reading in the sitting room.

Instead, he found two headless bodies outside his father's study.

The rest of that night is a blur. He had fallen to his knees at the sight of the third corpse. The Great Duke Nightray. His own father. Beheaded by the Headhunter inside a secret room--

The next thing he knew, he was standing on the sidewalk as orange flames lit up the townhouse. Dressed in only a robe and pajama pants in the cold of winter. His family's precious sword in one hand, Leo's precious glasses in the other.

Elliot had been taken to Pandora's Headquarters in handcuffs after refusing to hand over that weapon. But he wasn't a suspect, Reim Lunettes had assured him. It was merely a formality when dealing with an uncooperative hothead.

The barred windows on the room they set him up in suggested different.

He wasn't allowed to rest yet, though. He still had to give a statement, full of details lost to shock. He still had to answer all the questions hurled at him by Xerxes Break, the swordsman he had always admired.

Unlike Reim, the Mad Hatter wasn't so quick to dismiss the possibility of Elliot's involvement.

But that wasn't what really pissed him off.

Over and over, Elliot had asked about Leo. He had demanded Pandora find him. Of course he was upset about his father. But the Duke Nightray was already dead.

Leo was missing.

He could still be alive.

They had to find him, before it was too late--!!

As Elliot begged and pleaded, eventually it became clear.

He might not have been a suspect.

But his valet was.

The realization had angered him to the core, and once again Pandora's guards had to step in to restrain him.

Though the questioning had ended there that night, it would continue in the morning.

Reim had met him over a very late breakfast, attempting to coax answers through a gentler approach.

Why had they been in that townhouse?

Why had the Duke Nightray come in the middle of the night?

What was that secret room?

Did Elliot know about it?

And what was inside?

By the time the fire department had quelled the blaze, everything in that room had been destroyed.

In fact, it had seemed the fire was started there.

Why?

Why?

Why?

Like he didn't have the same fucking questions?!

The interrogation would start and stop as Elliot's temper flared and receeded, dragging on through the day, and on through the next

When was the last time he had seen his adopted brother Vincent?

How well did Vincent and Leo know each other?

Could they have been working together?

Another line of questioning that had the blood boiling inside Elliot.

He hated to admit it.

Adopted or not, Vincent was his brother.

But

he had always been strange.

Suspicious sometimes.

Elliot hated to admit it. But he could see it. He could understand Vincent's involvement.

But not Leo.

Never Leo.

Finally, after the third night, he was released and permitted to return to his family's estate. To embrace his sister and try to pick up the few remaining shards of their broken family.

But when he expressed his concern for finding Leo, Vanessa had frowned. She had held her baby brother, and assured him,

"You don't need to worry about that right now. I'll find you a new valet myself. Someone we can vet properly, this time."

And Elliot's heart had sunk.

He didn't mean to yell at her.

He was just so tired.

And so he excused himself to his room. Or rather, stormed off.

His door slammed behind him, he takes a moment.

It's only been three days since he's seen his own bed.

But the room feels unfamiliar, unwelcoming as he enters.

Nothing has changed.

His bed sits at the far end, by the window, with its blankets and pillows crisp and neatly arranged as ever, completely unaffected by his own life's upheaval.

It pisses him off.

Elliot storms across the room to throw every pillow from his bed. He tears the duvet from its place, but the way it simply falls to the floor is unsatisfactory.

As he huffs and puffs with rage, his gaze turns quickly to the small, potted pine tree near the window. The little tree that he and Leo had picked out and decorated together. They had planned to plant it after the season, a quiet declaration of their growing, secret relationship.

Another reminder of what he's lost.

Without thinking, he gives the tree a violent shove. But as it crashes to the ground, he's instantly filled with regret.

"No. No. No no no no no--"

He drops to his knees, crawling on all fours as he frantically, desperately tries to recover what's left of the holiday tree he and Leo had decorated together. Shards of glass and scattered pine needles poke and cut his shaking hands as he tries to scoop dirt back into its pot. He doesn't stop.

He can't stop.

He snatches up every decoration that managed to survive the assault, trying to put them back exactly as they were. But his hands tremble, and one glass orb slips through his fingers.

As it shatters, so does he.

After three days, Elliot finally starts to cry. And once the tears come, he can't make them stop. He sobs, burying his face in hands stained with dirt and blood as he screams his throat raw in frustration.

He has no idea how long it takes him to calm down. But when he does, he's left feeling empty. Deflated. His head hurts. His chest aches. His body feels heavy.

He looks at the crooked, broken tree. Then at the soil, pine needles, and colorful broken glass across his floor. And he frowns.

He'll find a broom.

The maids shouldn't have to deal with that.

After a long moment, Elliot finally drags himself up from the ground.

He can feel the dirt on his face, as the humiliation of his outburst begins to settle in.

Elliot could have sworn it was only mid afternoon when he stepped into the shower, but the sky is dark by the time he's out. That could mean anything this time of year, though. He doesn't bother to look at the time.

He dresses in a crisp black vest and dress pants. The grief weighing on him like an anvil on his chest is no excuse for an unkempt appearance. But as he looks at his ties, he feels a lump in his throat.

Of course he can tie a bow himself.

But he shouldn't have to.

Leo should be there. Looking up at him with that same, smug smile.

"will that be all, master? or should i lick your shoes till they shine, too?" he'd ask in a flowery voice dripping with sarcasm. Elliot would punch his arm, and Leo would hit back twice as hard--

Elliot slams his wardrobe closed.

Somewhere along the way in his quest for a broom, Elliot had gotten distracted. Instead, he finds himself outside his mother's bed chambers.

The Duchess had been unwell for a while. The deaths of each of her sons had weighed heavily on both her body and mind.

For three days, Elliot had worried, scared this news would break her.

He finally knocks, before gently pushing open one of the double doors. "Mother...?" his voice feels dry in his throat as he calls for her.

The Duchess Nightray rests in bed, sat up against the headboard. Though her blue eyes hold a deep, profound sadness, she smiles at the sight of her last remaining son. "Come here, my Elly," she beckons, and the proud Elliot feels tears burn his eyes again. He pulls them back with a deep breath in, before he marches so bravely across the exquisite suite to crawl into his mother's arms.

He feels so small. Like a child again, the precious little baby of the family.

It makes him burn with shame.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles. "I couldnt. Do anything to save him. I--"

"Shhh," the Duchess coos, petting her dear child's hair reassuingly. "It really is a pity about Bernard, death is such a sad thing. But it will be alright, Elliot. We'll all be together again very soon, you know."

When he looks up at her, his mother has that same gentle smile.

But something about her words make his hair stand on end.

He's quiet for a moment.

"Everyone thinks Leo's involved with the Headhunter," he finally tells her.

The Duchess tilts her head. "Your little servant who climbs the trees in the garden?"

Elliot nods against her chest.

"That seems a bit absurd," she comments. "He's always been so sweet."

Elliot's eyes feel hot again.

Finally.

Finally, someone who believes him. Who doesn't immediately write him off.

Someone willing to understand.

That anvil on his chest feels a little lighter.

"Yeah...."

The Duchess gives her son a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

"You look tired...." she remarks with a note of sympathy.

"I havent. Really slept since...that night..."

She cradles him, just as she'd done when he was young, and begins to hum a gentle melody. As he closes his eyes, he recognizes the lullaby as one of the piano pieces he had written for her over the years.

And then, after three days, Elliot finally gets some rest.

[lunarscaled]

new idea i draw las hoeches TWO with other OCs

[piningpercussionist]

Interest checking somethin' real quick!

*I couldn't think of a better way to word that, but I mean like. If I only opened comissions for stages sketches through flats, but you wanted shading, or something. Or if I end up deciding certain kinds of commissions won't work for me and have to put up restrictions.

The second I'm able I'm probably going to be opening them, so I'm just kinda feeling out where interest lies! I don't know how I'd be pricing things just yet, honestly? My brain seems kinda caught on "$5 for a quick sketch is a good starting point" but we'll see what happens, since I'm uncertain what the reasonable price escalation from there is to me- also, I have a tendency to go overboard on my sketches naturally, so. We'll See.

Another thing that'll probably be coming is a kofi for tips and requests! But do keep in mind that I just specified requests and not commissions- they'd be in no way guaranteed, I'd just feel a little more pressured on account of your kindness lol

[tenebriism]

// When you have to pull up your own muse list because you forgot what Genshin muses you have added. In my HONEST defense... my hyperfocus goes from Baizhu, to Diluc, to Albedo, and back to Baizhu, and MIGHT send out an invitation to others, from time to time, but...

... okay, no, I just have a really bad memory.

[arahabakiis]

kid, I feel legally obliged to help you. Considering the- mistakes I made with you from the future.

@the-former-assassin-king

(ooc: i should mention that for the sake of the plot in this timeline i am disregarding all previous interactions on this blog <3)

No, no- listen, I dont- I'm fine. I don't need help!! I'm not going back, you can't make me!!

[shadovan]

He’s emerging from the depths to become everyone’s problem once again…

[mad-hunts]

psst... like this post if you all would be interested in participating in an open-starter / me sending asks through your inbox

[demonwebs]

sorry i was so cute and likable u couldn't murder me

[1-800-scaryphone]

also hmm hmmmm thinking about how some of callum's advice was straight-up "use your hardships to make people feel bad!"

[flybcll]

little plotting call. like if you're interested

[orchideae]

My apologies for the absence! I feel like a broken record saying this, but I keep entering different phases of 'settling into life' (went through a massive change in my personal life last year), and then every time I get to 'Ah, all is calm now', something else happens. But I'm finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, as one huge weight has now finally been lifted off my shoulders. Phew. /munches on my camembert and baguette.