#fubuki packs

[kuroeko]

domestic life of a dating vampire and werewolf

[sciamano240]

Fubuki from One Punch Man, 3rd and last pic of the April pack.

[ohlookiehereanotheruser]

Masterlist of Denied Requests

Please take a crack at it everyone! First Wave! More will be added in a little bit!

Mogai

Coinings:

bondi blue imac g3 objectum flag?

blahaj plush shark objectum flag plzz?

Could I request a coining/flag for "trans grey tabby"? (A subcategory of transcat where someones transcat but specifically a grey tabby)

could u make a reserve course flag ?

would i be able to request a gender related to being a jolteon and a boy ? -

EPIC the Musical source flag?

Editblr

Blinkies/Pixels:

could i possibly req for sayori pixels??

Icon Requests:

May I request Cream and Chao icons (together or separate matching ones!) from Sonic? Comics, shows, or games work I don’t mind ^_^

icon edits of Pure Vanilla Cookie w/yellow & blue color scheme? ✅

Can I request Jesse Pinkman Icons/Rentry graphics?

can i request replycons with burning spice cookie please?

Moerumimin icons ++ banners ? icons can be ♡~shaped !

could you please do toya icons? Including the ones from sanrio collab if you can?

Rentry Graphics:

Papyrus from Undertale with mushrooms and purple graphics please, thank you!

if you can do a Gengar (pokemon) graphics ??

can you do a graphic with Robo-Fortune from Skullgirls, please??

Can you do Jumpin' Johnnie Jumble and Professor Rocket graphics? (Both are from Crashbox)

Could I get rentry graphics that are themed around oranges and lemons and are bright orange and yellow?

can rot request slasher graphics? rot would really like some ghostface ones, like stu and billy!

Hii, could i request some Andre Kriegman and Cal Gabriel rentry graphics?? Nothing specific..maybe gun themed masks? -

Can you make bsd Lucy graphics please ?

If it's not a problem could I get some master shake rentry graphics/icons?

could you maybe make some audrey ii from little shop of horror graphics? :3 would appreciate if so

If you could/reqs are open could you maybe do any kind of graphics for "They're only chasing safety" album by underoath -

karma akabane graphics?

Haii can I request some rentry graphics for fubuki shirou from inazuma eleven?

Could I ask for an Apostle (Midnight Horrors) themed graphic?

Could you do beezlebub rentry graphics?

Please make a Climber graphics (Endzone, Low of Talos)?

Could I request b-komachi (the new group with kana, ruby, and mem-cho) oshi no ko rentry graphics? -

Henry Elsner Graphics?? (From Ghost and Pals)

Would you be willing to do some 2000's Emo graphics ?

sebastian solace rentry graphics ?

Can i request hot pink kokichi graphics?

May I request rentry graphics of the devil from cuphead?

Nejire hado rentry graphic or two in like a light light blue color palette? -

haloo ! may i req xavier (craig of the creek) graphics ? thank you !!

HIII could u maybe make Legend of Zelda rentry graphics? Maybe Link, Revali, or Urbosa (all from BOTW) :3

Can I request graphics of Francis/Fitzgerald from BSD?? Thank you!!!!

life series ! jimmy solidarity graphics?

Any chance i could rq graphics of zoarark from pokemon? -

graphics with Mami Tomoe?

Parfait Cookie (CRK) graphics ^_^ ?

can I please request some gothic graphics of Isaac laforeze from castlevania:curse of darkness? (the guy with red hair ^^;)

Can you do protag graphics from elevator hitch?

NPTs/SNPTs:

npts of shizuka yoshimoto from 100 girlfriends?

thorne from cherry crush npts?

sinclair (limbus company) npts, please?

scar (wuwa) npts?

shinjiro aragaki (persona 3) npts or jin shirato npts? (persona 3)

ID pack of Hoshimi Junna - Revue Starlight? -

angelic puppet or doll themed npts or just names or pronouns?

Can you make a pack with the name Joseph Desaulnier and photographer from the game identity v plss?

zombie/dead themed ID pack?

but could i please request npt vkei (visual kei) ideas?

puppet related NPT's?

polar bear themed NPT ?

Dividers:

None Submitted

Custom NPTs/SNPTs

I would like to request a SNPT, though I am specifically searching for a subsystem name and pronouns, gender neutral and feminine preferred. Themes include: Dolls (porcelain and ball joint), Puppets (marionettes or others), Machinery, specifically robotics, Elegance (The main things that come to mind are teacup, frill and lace), And anything else that you see fit.

PNG Requests:

Ghost PNGs?

Layout Requests:

could you do a jonathan byers ( from stranger things ) themed layout circled around fall and brown and errr like horror / analog horror ??

any cute tumblr layout of something or of a character that's aquatic theme?

Can I request some layouts for valvatorez from disgaea 4: a promise unforgotten?

Could I possibly request a Koujaku (dmmd) layout?

daisuke (mouthwashing) discord layout?

An aiden (SBG) discord layout? -

Can I get a colorful candy themed hinata aoi (enstars) tumblr layout pls ??

Can I get Boa hancock layout nd dividers?

Can I request an Aiden Clark layout .. (school bus graveyard !! )

duolingo layout? (wtf)

request a layout of Farz from the comic This is Not Romance?

could I get a layout of The Oni from Dead by Daylight? -

Can I request Hakos Baelz layout?

May i rq some akito shinonome tumblr layouts?

I please have a tumblr layout for Rin Okumura (Blue Exorcist)?

could i have an mlp tumblr layout..?

Could you do a tumblr layout for Impulse and Skizz?

May i reqs some michiru kaibara & ichihoshi lumina tumblr layouts? -

Can I req Vincent (deadplate) retrospring layouts ?

Can I get a layout of Fern from Frieren?

Can I get layouts for charlotte from pink bitch club please?

Could I please have a Tumblr Layout of Fantoccio from Billie Bust Up?

Can I get some Sayori DDLC layouts?

Marija from muse dash layouts? -

Sora (Kingdom Hearts) layout for Tumblr?

Could i request a juliet starling layout ?

Polaris klepsky (sparklecare) layout?

Can i request bi + ace Twitter layout with Wally Darling please?

Could you please make a Spinach cookie Veggie Lovers Paradise tumblr layout? -

Can you make a Neru layout & Icon?? (UTAU)

may I request a Dark Cacao Cookie (Dragonlord or base, doesnt matter to me) tumblr layout?

Can you do Reki Kyan Layouts?could

Hello, can u pls make a Ciel Phantomhive Tumblr layout? (With the hex code #2E3E57 blue preferably)?

May i request a Nagisa D4DJ Tumblr Layout please ??

Tag List: @inyuoka, @nomkiwi, @gur0hana, @fwuffcat, @phaea Please dm to be removed from the list.

[alectoperdita]

jou makes kaiba a character bento of blue eyes. kaiba believes this is a murder attempt via starvation because how can he eat blue eyes

Anon, I'm not sure if this was what you were hoping for, but here we go.

---

"Fubuki, if you don't put on your jacket this minute, I'm punting you out the door like a football!"

A child's screeching echoed through the high-ceiling foyer, followed by two sets of footsteps pounding across the marble.

Seto listened, barely straining to make out the sound of his husband giving chase to their four-year-old son. There was Fubuki's obstinate "no!", the clatter of some piece of furniture, and Katsuya's bitten-off swearing. After a beat, he considered getting up and checking on them.

But then, bright amber eyes, framed by golden blond bangs, peered up from his lap. Asuka, swinging her legs gently, reached out with one chubby hand to offer him a mini-sausage off her plate.

"They'll sort it out," he muttered, both to himself and her.

Her response was to wave the sausage more insistently. The beginning of a pout formed on her stained lips.

Quickly, he bent over and took a small bite. This was their bargain: she finished her breakfast as long as he ate with her. The taste was a bit on the bland side. But she was three, so they didn't want to flavor her food too heavily.

Beaming with pride, his daughter stuffed the rest into her mouth. Her cheeks puffed out, reminiscent of a chipmunk.

Seto couldn't help but grin at the picture he made. His hand was halfway into his pocket for his phone before he caught himself. God, he was becoming one of those parents.

Thankfully, his husband's reappearance in the kitchen door restored his dignity. Katsuya's hair was tousled and sticking out in every which way, reminding Seto of their youth. He leaned heavily against the door jamb, using the frame to support himself and the bundle hefted under one arm. Fubuki kicked his feet wildly as they dangled in the air, but it wasn't in a tantrum. He enjoyed being carried like a sack of potatoes for some reason.

"Got 'em," Katsuya grunted, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. It was a dreadfully handsome look on him. "Is Asuka ready to go?"

Seto plucked the napkin off the dining table and wiped her face clean. As soon as he finished, he invited her to wordlessly hop down from his lap. Without further prompting, she lifted both arms so he could help her into her jacket.

"Now she is," he announced and stood.

Asuka laughed and twirled, before running to join Katsuya and Fubuki.

As much as Seto could spend the rest of the day staring at his impossible family, the kids were due at kindergarten and he had an early meeting. While Katsuya tidied the children's appearance, zipping up Fubuki's jacket resoundingly so he couldn't throw it off, Seto brought over the bentos from the kitchen counter.

He arched a questioning eyebrow at his husband as he handed them off. "Don't you think you've overdone it?"

In addition to each child's usual bento box, there was a two-tiered one. Then again, Katsuya always slipped comfortably into the role of house husband when it was the off-season for the pro-circuit.

Warmth spread through Seto's body when their hands brushed. Katsuya's fingers purposefully lingered on his wrists. Nor did he let go after he closed his palms over the back of Seto's hands, drawing him in for a short kiss.

Katsuya smiled. "Nah, the big one's for you."

"You didn't have to."

"Someone says you've been skipping lunch lately. So now you don't have an excuse."

Seto sighed. "Isono."

"I'm not giving up the identity of my mole that easily." Katsuya gave a wink.

Another kiss, a muttered goodbye; and then they were gone. The mansion always felt eerily quiet without them.

*****

Meetings were the bane of his existence. On days like today, when they were packed back-to-back, Seto longed for a megalomaniac or two. At least they had the decency to settle matters, even if it was of life and death, through Duel Monsters.

He collapsed into his office chair for the first time since he arrived hours ago. At the moment, he couldn't bear to check his inbox and see how many messages awaited his attention.

Likely too many.

For now, he wanted to enjoy the peace and quiet of his private office.

Eventually, his gaze roamed across his desk's surface: paperwork, pens, photos of his family, a black two-tier bento box.

He straightened.

He'd completely forgotten about the lunch Katsuya made for him until now.

Well, it was lunch time. He didn't have an excuse now as Katsuya said earlier. And he so hated to disappoint his husband. Plus, he liked Katsuya's cooking.

The top level contained an assortment of side dishes: a small salad, stewed beef and vegetables, and a couple of the same hot dog octopuses Katsuya always made for the children's bentos. But the tier below that? Seto gawked at what he uncovered.

Katsuya had been making character bento for Fubuki and Asuka since the start of autumn. The kids loved showing off their colorful arrangements to their classmates. Over time, Seto too had watched his husband get increasingly more creative and elaborate with their lunches.

It appeared he was no exception.

A rather faithful depiction of his ace monster stared back at him. Shaped out of suspiciously blue-tinted rice, his Blue-Eyes roared triumphantly at a background of black rice. It was mostly the head, neck, and upper shoulders with a hint of the wings, but Katsuya had captured its essence, using carefully cut pieces of dried seaweed to fill in the finer details and contour.

Seto wondered how long it took him to make this.

He snapped a photo for posterity. Then he tested his husband.

I think your plan may have backfired.

Katsuya responded instantly.

Why's that?

There's no way I can wreck her majesty.

I love you, even if you are a huge dork.

[yakool-foolio]

How the NDA detectives would play Buckshot Roulette multiplayer

Yuma - Always indecisive about who to shoot. Tends to take risky shots without knowing whether the bullet in the chamber is live or blank. Can be surprisingly competitive during the final round. Favorite item is the burner phone.

Halara - Hoards items, only using them when absolutely necessary. Pays extra attention to the bullet count, so their calculations are never off. Always shoots Desuhiko. Favorite item is the adrenaline syringe.

Desuhiko - Often miscounts bullets and monologues for several minutes before confidently shooting himself on accident. Uses as many items as he can every turn. Harbinger of chaos, makes for interesting and energetic rounds where everyone talks like an Oscar-winning actor by the end of it. Favorite item is the inverter.

Fubuki - Goes with her gut on deciding whether or not to shoot someone. Only uses her forte once or twice on a bad shot so nobody suspects her of cheating. She plays fair otherwise, and she tends to be shot the least, winning by sheer tenacity. Favorite item is the remote.

Vivia - Nobody thinks he's paying attention, but he's scarily accurate in predicting the order of the bullets. Only items he uses are the handsaw and handcuffs. Usually the first to die, but sometimes clutches a win in the final round. Favorite item is the handsaw.

Yakou - Tries to trick everyone into thinking that lighting a cigarette at full health will give you an extra bar; it never works. Makes good plans with how to utilize his items. Yells at anyone who shoots him. Favorite item is the cigarette pack.

[pixelatedraindrops]

“Here Halara! I made you some of my coffee! Just like I did in Ginma! This will heal your body right up from your terrible cold!”

“I’m not sick Fubuki…it’s just allergies…”

Whew! I finally got this doodle done ;w; I have officially drawn all of the detectives of the Nocturnal Detective Agency at least once yay :3 I never thought I would tbh... x'D

I think Halara came out pretty good, but I think I could've done better on Fubuki ^^; This pose was complicated but once I got Halara to a nice pose, I had a bit of trouble with Fubuki x-x

Yet another ship I could kind of understand due to Fubuki's DLC.

How Halara suffered such an awful allergy attack? Lets just say that Fubuki took them to a cat cafe somewhere in Ginma...this was before she learned their deep dark secret. And Halara couldn't resist the cuteness so...they went anyway despite the penalty... x'D

Fubuki regrets it the minute Halara suffers a sneezing fit on the way back to base and has to lay down due to their head pounding from the sinuses. They end up not only with a runny nose and eyes, but they sadly got a few skin rashes too... yikes, the poor thing x-x; They make sure to have an extra sweet lollipop to help with their mood, as well as act as a substitute lozenge for their dry throat, some nasal spray for the stuffiness and an ice pack for their headache.

Fubuki tries to do whatever she can to help, even if the cause of it was her fault to begin with... xD And Halara cannot move much so...they just take whatever the ditzy time detective throws their way. Fubuki lovingly babysits the stuffy postcogditive detective while they recover.

This was my first time experimenting with allergies as an ailment so...I tried to read up on it before I drew so I could at least be accurate. Allergies isn't really the same thing as being ill. But it was still fun to draw it out :3

(tfw halara looks sicker than everyone else did... lmao improvement?)

Anyway, hope you enjoy this snack Clockmare Nation🩵🩷

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Viviakou Kokobolt

[batneko]

Can you believe I've been drawing the Undead Kingdom AU for three years? I sure can't!

But since I actually remembered in time to prepare something this year, I present to you an AU of an AU:

Squire Beauto

(in which Amai never gave in to the curse, never reinvented himself, and yet finds himself on a remarkably similar path) rated: T for swearing and innuendo words: 12,317 tw: bullying, light bdsm, religious baggage

"Come on, Dogface! We're burning daylight!"

This was not, in fact, true. The sun hadn't even fully crested the horizon, and the one the knights called "Dogface" had been up since long before. He ate, bathed, and dressed alone, then woke the young squire to serve breakfast to the knights and pack up the camp.

Now he finished loading the last pack on the last horse, hitched his own bag over his shoulders, and followed the rest of the group. Unnoticed, the crows followed him.

The tallest knight (a bit shorter than Dogface without his boots) shifted his armor as he walked. “You left my straps too loose again. We're not all as porky as you, Dogface.”

The other two knights chuckled, though both of them looked heavier than Dogface. Fighting in full armor took a lot of brute strength, and most knights tended on the stocky side. The fact that Dogface was being singled out for his weight said far more about the speaker than it did the target.

There was a pause of several seconds. Dogface wore an old-fashioned bucket helmet that completely covered his head. No expression could be seen, and when he spoke there was nothing but polite subservience in his voice. “I see. I won’t do that next time.”

They kept walking, the crows kept following, and Psykos kept watch through their eyes.

“They're all the way from R Kingdom,” Psykos said, keeping her eyes on her crystal. “You can tell by the accent, bunch of hicks.”

“Why would knights from R Kingdom come here?” Fubuki asked, leaning over her shoulder. Her hand was cool even through the fabric of Psykos' dress.

“The usual,” Psykos said. But she added, quietly, “They prayed before their meal.”

“Oh.”

More than one religion decried the undead as unholy. Only a few decided that meant all undead should be unilaterally wiped out. Psykos would have expected more hymns and solemnity if that was what this group was really after, but she was sure they wouldn't have traveled so far without believing they were on a mission from their god.

“Will you sing for us, Squire Beauto?” the young squire asked. So that was the older one's name. Now she could stop thinking of him by that ridiculous nickname.

“Yeah, Dogface,” the tallest knight said. “Give us a song.”

If he chose a hymn, Psykos would stop observing now and rally the army.

Beauto didn't audibly sigh, but his shoulders (already stooped) rose and then slumped. After a moment, his voice came from behind the helmet.

Not a hymn. A ballad. One of those old ones about jealousy and betrayal and murder. Squire Beauto sang with a strong clear voice – a tenor, unless Psykos missed her guess – and he was good. Ballads weren't designed to strain a singer's talents, but he nailed every note. Psykos would have paid money for this.

“They brought a bard?” Fubuki asked. She couldn't see through the crystal as well as Psykos could, but the sound carried.

“No, that's a squire.”

“He missed his calling, then.” She straightened up. “Shame if we'll have to kill him.”

“I know.”

***

They reached the castle shortly before noon. There had been one stop for rest and food an hour earlier, but "rest" applied only to the knights, of course. Beauto and Atama were expected to serve them just like always. As soon as Beauto sat down for a moment he had Sir Kakato barking at him, "Come on Dogface, don't be so lazy!"

It was always the same. If he sat, he was lazy. If he ate in front of others, he was a glutton. If he slipped up even slightly in keeping himself and his clothes spotlessly clean, he was a slob.

It was better now, with the helmet, but the knights still knew. Kakato still knew.

So Beauto was tired and hungry and ready to kill someone when he arrived at the castle of the undead king. It was almost disappointing when there was no one to try and stop them.

"Doesn't look like much," Sir Onaka said.

Beauto didn't agree, but he knew what he meant. "I doubt this was the main palace," Beauto said. "I think that got destroyed when the last prince cursed the country."

Onaka stared at him for a few seconds, and Beauto added, "Sir."

Kakato clicked his tongue. "Mind your manners, squire," he said. "Your behavior reflects on me, remember?"

All the more reason to ignore propriety, Beauto thought, but it wasn't true. Nobody had ever blamed Beauto's behavior on anyone but himself. He even got blamed for things he'd been nowhere near. He even got blamed for getting attacked.

“I know, Sir Kakato,” Beauto said. “I will be mindful.”

They entered the castle by the front doors. There may have been a side or back entrance once, but the ground around the castle had risen up in jagged points, blocking off all but the face of the building. It wasn't built to be defensible but it certainly was now.

The entry hall was wide, tiled in cracked slate covered with random carpets. Sir Onaka drifted to the side and pulled aside a curtain, whistling at the painting behind it.

It was a hunting scene, deer running across green hills. No part of the country looked like that now.

"Gold frame," Onaka said.

"Look at this," Sir Tsume called from the other side.

She'd found a small table with a basket full of flowers and a vase waiting to be filled. The staff must have fled without finishing their tasks when they heard knights were coming.

Sir Tsume picked up the vase. "Porcelain," she said, tapping it with a fingernail, "the good stuff."

The three knights exchanged glances. Beauto did his best to ignore them.

"Let's split up," Tsume said. "Do a little… scouting."

Beauto was instantly disappointed; Tsume had the most level head among the three of them, and he'd been hoping she'd stop the others if they suggested the same thing.

"Works for me," Kakato said, grinning.

"Figure out what to grab on the way out, and we'll meet up at the throne room."

"I'll take the squires, you two stick together?"

"Works for me," Tsume said, and Onaka nodded.

Beauto said nothing. What was the point?

When the group found a doorway they made the split; Kakato in the lead, Squire Atama sticking close to him, and Beauto with his hand on his sword hilt bringing up the rear. They walked for some time without encountering any people, living or dead. Occasionally they heard footsteps fading into the distance, occasionally they encountered a locked door, but mostly it was hallway after hallway.

They must have chosen the wrong direction, because the doors themselves got less and less ornate the further they walked. These were the areas where the servants traveled, the part of the castle where work got done.

Beauto was intimately familiar.

“Nothing,” Kakato said, and spat on the floor.

It was stone tile, with mismatched carpet runners in the center of each hall. If his spittle had hit the carpet Beauto may very well have slugged him, damn the consequences.

“Let’s go back,” Kakato said, and Beauto followed without a word.

They took a different path this time, back into the palatial part of the palace. Here, the carpets were coordinated and embroidered - though Beauto noticed they seemed very worn. Old, then. Cleaned so often their colors had faded and fibers had begun to wear away.

The wall hangings (and there were many) were newer. In a large building like this there were often drafts no matter how many fires were lit, and thick fabric trapped heat. It helped that they were beautiful, rich velvet, made from silk in the old style unless Beauto missed his guess. He found himself reaching out as they passed to touch a particularly charming drape embossed with stylized wheat, only remembering to pull his hand back a moment before his fingers reached the fabric. He was always lectured when he dared to put his hands on anything expensive. As if he would dirty it by his very presence.

Funny. If the kingdom was full of undead, why did they work so hard to keep the castle warm?

A scream ripped through the air, and Beauto had his sword half-pulled before he’d fully turned. Kakato was only a second behind him, shoving him aside as he sprang into action.

Except… there was nothing there. No one, living or dead. Just Beauto and Kakato.

Just Beauto and Kakato.

“Sir, where’s Atama?” Beauto said.

“What?” Kakato’s head whipped back and forth. “I thought you were watching him!”

“I-” He’d been distracted. Lost in thought and dreams of luxury. “I didn’t-”

“Fuck,” Kakato said. Vulgar as ever. “Well it’s too late for him. Let’s find the others and kill that monster they call a king. That’ll be a fitting tribute to Squire Atama.”

“He’s not dead,” Beauto said through gritted teeth. “Not until we’ve seen a body.”

“He’s a goner, Dogface! There’s no point!”

Beauto snapped his sword back into its sheath. “I’m going to have a look.”

“Fine, it’s your funeral.” Kakato waved one hand as he turned. “We’ll get all the glory for wiping out that monstrosity, and you’ll lose whatever chance you had of finally getting knighted.”

Beauto stopped.

He clenched his fists, his jaw, his whole body so tight he was certain he was trembling. Right now it was just the two of them. If he were to beat Kakato to a pulp - or less - no one would ever know it was Beauto. It would be blamed on the undead, doing what everyone expected of them.

He heard the clank of Kakato’s armored boots walking away, unbothered, probably barely even remembering what he’d said. He certainly didn’t seem to think about any of it before he spoke. He couldn’t know how much it rankled, every single day, to serve a knight a year younger than him.

Beauto stepped forward, in the direction of the scream.

Atama wasn’t far. Almost as soon as Beauto set foot in the last servant’s hallway they’d left, the boy ran straight into him. He came away with a scratch on his chin from Beauto’s old layered plate armor, but otherwise seemed unharmed.

“What’s wrong?” Beauto asked. “What happened?”

“There was a skull!”

Beauto stared at him. He was grateful every day for the helmet that hid his face, but never moreso when he was sure he couldn’t keep his expression neutral.

“That’s all?” Beauto said. “This castle is overrun with undead, of course there are skulls lying around.”

“It wasn’t lying around, it was on a stake!” Atama said. “I just- I just turned a corner and there it was!”

“Probably marking a room where they keep bodies for resurrection or something,” Beauto said. “Seriously, that was enough to make you scream? Weren’t you already prepared to face things like that once you heard where we were going?”

“Well, I was, but…” Good, at least he wasn’t panicking anymore. “This place just looks so… normal, you know? It looks like the castle back home.” He frowned a little. “But they have nicer stuff than we do.”

“It’s easy to have nice things when you have no qualms about robbing graves,” Beauto said. “Come on, let’s find the others. Sir Kakato was afraid you might be dead.”

A small lie, a white lie, but it didn’t count because Atama didn’t look like he believed it for a second.

They walked side-by-side this time. Beauto enjoyed feeling like a reliable senior squire for the few minutes it took to find their way back, and then he led the way with his mood sinking step by step. It was easy to find the throne room - just like Atama said, this castle was very much like the one back home. And besides, a throne room should never be difficult to find. The whole point was showing off the liege’s splendor.

Even if it wasn’t easy, they would have found it quickly. The sounds of fighting and swearing echoed down the halls.

Both squires took off running, passing through the massive double doors and into the empty space. Beauto felt cold the moment he stepped inside. For a split second he thought it was dark magic, but then he noticed the room lacked carpets or drapes aside from two on the dais that held the throne itself. It was wide open, all stone, not even furniture aside from that single tall chair.

And in front of him, locked in combat with Sir Kakato, was the undead king.

He was about average height (Beauto noted the click-clack of heeled boots and amended that) a little under average height, with the cropped short hair of a soldier and the shadowed eyes of an insomniac. If it wasn't for the bloodless pallor of his skin Beauto would have taken him for a living human, and a rather handsome one at that. He certainly didn't dress like a king. Then again, maybe the knights had caught him in the middle of changing. Beauto couldn't think of another reason his shirt would be half-buttoned like that.

He fought wielding a massive sword, hardly more than a slab of metal with a handle, and he moved far more gracefully than someone encumbered by such a weight should. Unnatural strength, no need to rest or fear muscle strain, a being that existed outside human limitations.

As Beauto watched, the undead king brought his sword down so hard it cracked the blade of Kakato’s, then swept the knight’s legs out from under him with a kick. One-handed, the king picked up Kakato by the straps on the back of his armor and tossed him on top of the other two knights, already lying prone on the floor.

Beauto shrugged off his pack and threw it to the side before drawing his sword. It was smaller than the king’s; a hand-and-a-half sword, a “bastard” sword as Kakato liked to remind him. Lighter than a broadsword but stronger than a short sword. Against an unarmored human Beauto would always have the advantage.

“Take care of them,” Beauto snapped at Atama. “I’ll take care of him.”

He was surprised to see the undead king smirk as Beauto charged him. “Cocky, aren’t we?” the king said.

They met, blades crashing together. The weight was intense, just as Beauto had been afraid of, but he was a better fighter than Kakato. With the king’s attention on his sword, Beauto leaned back and kicked the man square in the gut.

Even with unnatural strength, a body reacted to that. The king made an undignified noise as his breath escaped him, and stumbled backward, giving Beauto just enough time to swing again and cut deep into the side of his neck.

Blood burst from the wound, spurting over the king’s ridiculous ornamental shoulder armor, turning into a fountain as Beauto pulled his sword free. For perhaps a tenth of a second Beauto thought he might have won, but the blood stopped as quickly as it started, and aside from the fresh coat of red the king’s neck looked good as new two-tenths of a second later.

“Damn,” Beauto muttered.

“What did you expect?” the king said with a laugh.

He had… a nice laugh, actually. Deep, warm, with the merest hint of gravel to it.

“I’ll just have to keep trying,” Beauto said.

They clashed again, blade hitting blade, Beauto grateful for his armor more than once, and the king only taking a split second to recover every time Beauto hit one of his openings. When you healed that quickly you must not need to learn to guard your vitals. Beauto was almost jealous.

It only went on for a few minutes. Real fights were like that, not like the theater where actors both in the duel and observing it could deliver full monologues while wooden swords knocked together. A real fight was quick, and messy, and you didn’t have time to think of anything other than not getting stabbed in the liver. That was why knights trained for years to be able to battle on instinct instead of thinking about every move.

Beauto wasn’t a knight, but he’d trained more than any of them. And he’d been getting into fights (that is to say, preventing himself from being beaten) for even longer.

He felt himself slip, and he saw the king’s massive sword swing into his cone of vision, and all he had time to think was -

Why couldn’t it be my face?

The sword hit his side, where the layered armor didn’t cover, and the shock of pain sent him stumbling. It didn’t feel like he’d been cut, but he was wounded now, and the king would easily be able to take advantage of that. The fight was as good as over.

As he shifted the weight of his sword to his other side, he heard a creak of what sounded like door hinges.

It was foolish, but he couldn’t stop himself from looking. Beauto saw the double doors pulling shut, Kakato on one side and Tsume on the other. When Kakato saw Beauto’s head turned in their direction, he smiled suddenly and shouted, “You got this Dogface!”

Then the doors were shut, with all three knights and one squire on the other side of them.

“What?” Beauto said. It couldn’t be. They couldn’t have really just abandoned him, could they? Anyway, what idiot would make doors to a throne room that locked from the outside?

He ran to them and pulled on the handles, the wood creaking but refusing to open. It felt not just locked, but barred.

“What…” Beauto said again. “What idiot makes doors to a throne room that lock from the outside?”

“Oh, we put that in after we took over,” the undead king said, conversationally. “For, y’know, this type of thing.”

Beauto glared at him, though he knew he couldn’t see it. “Trapping people?”

He grinned. Something about it made Beauto’s chest feel tight in the way usually only novels did.

“Yes,” the undead king said. “Trapping prey.”

He was bluffing, Beauto realized immediately. He hadn't killed any of the knights, and Beauto hadn't even been cut by a direct blow from his sword. But the knights wouldn't have known that, not even Sir Tsume. They locked him in here with an undead thing, believing that it would kill him.

"They took my bag…" Beauto realized. He'd dropped it inside the doors, and now it was gone.

They'd left him to die and made sure to salvage his part of their supplies.

“Wow, seriously?" Beauto heard the king say. "What assholes. You need better friends, sir knight."

"Wrong on all counts," Beauto said through gritted teeth.

"How so?"

"I'm not a knight, I'm a squire," he said. "And they are not my friends."

"A squire?" the king repeated. "Aren't they usually- You're not one of those super tall teenagers, are you?"

"I'm twenty-four!" Beauto said, letting his exasperation bleed into his voice. What was the point in hiding it now? It was that same thought that led him to admit, "I was this tall by the time I became a squire, though."

He was sure that was the only reason he was finally chosen. It was embarrassing to have a page the size of a grown man, especially since guests kept assuming he was a footman or guard. The seneschal must have bullied Sir Hana into it. He was a senior knight, he barely needed any help anyway, but once he'd gotten used to looking at Beauto he did actually bother to teach him. Beauto would always be grateful to him for that.

“You're probably telling the truth,” the king said, thoughtfully. “That's too specific of a number to be a lie.”

“If I was lying I'd tell you I was thirty,” Beauto said.

The king laughed, a more genuine one this time. “But that's weird, isn't it?” the king said. “Aren't most squires teenagers?”

“Not all,” Beauto muttered.

“Apparently not. What did you do that they won’t make you-”

Beauto turned, sword in hand, and charged once more at the undead king.

The man barely managed to block his strike. That big blade of his almost worked better as a shield than a weapon, but if Beauto had him on the defensive that was a good thing. He'd caught his breath, and he knew now that the king didn't want him dead. There was no reason not to fight until he couldn't move.

He took advantage of his greater speed, especially now that he didn't have to worry about leaving openings. The king could do little more than dodge and attempt to block Beauto's relentless assault. An assault he didn't want to end too quickly. When would he ever get another chance like this? To fight to his heart's content, to hurt someone as much as he wanted with no consequence?

He kept his attacks to the king's extremities. A slash on the arm, a deep cut on the thigh, watching the king's face as he flinched each time, though never for long. Beauto actually managed to cut through a finger, though the leather of the king's glove held enough that Beauto could see the flesh knit back together.

Beauto drove him back, toward the dais where his throne sat. As expected, the king tripped on the first step, and that was enough for Beauto to knock the sword out of his hand, kick his feet out from under him, and pin him to the floor with a boot on his back.

For a moment Beauto didn't move. Neither did the king, though his breath came in wheezes. Beauto knew, from experience, that it was difficult to get out of this position. If the one stepping on you used any weight at all (and Beauto did) you couldn't just roll out from under them. It was hard to grab onto something in the middle of your own back, and what would you do with it if you could? Not to mention the pressure compressing your lungs and making it difficult to breathe.

Beauto brought his sword down, hovered the blade next to the king's face, and pressed the tip against his cheek until he turned it enough to look up at him.

“What are you going to do?” the king said. He was flushed from exertion, making him look more alive. “Cutting my head off won't kill me. Stabbing me in the heart won't even slow me down.”

“I've got no reason to kill you, but I've got nothing left to lose either.” Without shifting his weight, Beauto carefully sheathed his sword. “We're both stuck here until your people or mine open that door.”

Then he bent forward and retrieved the knife he kept tucked into his boot. He couldn't help grinning at the way the king's eyes widened when he saw the flash of metal.

“You are at my mercy, your highness,” Beauto said, keeping his voice cool despite the way his heart was pounding. “And I am not a merciful man.”

The king bit his lip. Beauto had been expecting the blood to drain from his face, but if anything he flushed a little more.

“Okay,” the king said, “but you can't get mad if I get a boner about it.”

Beauto startled, and instinct had him press his heel harder into the king's back to keep him in place. The king let out a breathless noise that didn't sound entirely like pain.

“What?” Beauto said. His voice was low, in that way that usually made people recoil from him. He cleared his throat to try again, but the king was smiling.

“Does it ruin it for you if I enjoy it too?” he said. “Sorry to say I'm actually desperate enough that almost anything you do with that knife is going to be fun for me.”

Beauto brandished the knife again, a glint of light off the blade seeming to reflect in the king's eye. “You like this?”

“Knifeplay's not my favorite but I do like it, yeah.”

Beauto swallowed.

He shouldn't ask, but... he couldn't stop himself.

“What's your favorite, then?”

The smile widened into a grin. “I like it hands-on. I like hair-pulling, slapping, choking. Mostly I just wanna be picked up and used like a toy.”

Beauto had to swallow again. He almost dropped his knife, he wanted so badly to immediately try something from off the king's list.

But he couldn't. This wasn't an invitation, it was a conversation. One in which he currently had all the power. The novels he read (they were easy to find, though the quality was a crapshoot. His best luck had been at the brothels Sir Kakato thought it was funny to drag him to – they often had erotica lying around for inspiration. Since none of the entertainers wanted to meet his eyes, it was easy for Beauto to tuck himself into a corner of the lounge and read while he waited) often crossed that type of line, but he knew they were fantasies. This... this kind of arrangement, it had to be negotiated beforehand.

“How did you know?” Beauto asked, quietly.

“That you’re into this too?”

Beauto nodded.

“The way you fought. You dragged it out, you hurt me instead of disarming me. You were enjoying yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” Beauto said.

“Don’t be sorry for having fun. I was too.”

“No, I… I’m sorry for taking my anger out on you, instead of the people that deserve it.”

“Apology accepted.” The king shifted beneath his boot. “Now that that’s in the open, how about letting me up?” He grinned again. “Or don’t, and do that thing with your heel again.”

He couldn’t have stopped himself. Not even with a blade to his throat. Beauto pressed the heel of his boot against the king’s back, digging the edge into his spine, and the king gave a soft gasp.

Dear god, Beauto had never been this turned on in his life.

“What’s your name, anyway?” the king asked, still breathless, a little teasing. Was this… flirtation? It was a tone that Beauto had heard before but never caused.

“Beauto,” he said. “What’s yours? Everyone only ever seems to call you ‘the undead king.’”

The flirtation (if that’s what it was) quickly disappeared. “That’s because I don’t have one. I was numbered, not named.”

Beauto barely managed a “Wh?” sound.

“They call me the undead king for a reason. I’m not exactly dead, but I’m certainly not a human. I was made in a lab by a necromancer. I’m nothing but an experiment that happens to be able to walk and talk.”

Immediately Beauto pulled his foot off the king’s back and stepped away. The king was frowning as he sat up. He had hooded eyes that exaggerated the expression, like red coals peering out of the shadow of his brow. If Beauto hadn’t already seen through him he may have been afraid.

“Disturbing, isn’t it?” the king said.

“This person made you but never bothered to name you?” Beauto said. “Of course that’s disturbing!”

The king looked surprised, for some reason. The frown fell away and he blinked up at Beauto. “Isn’t it?” he said, distantly.

“What a piece of shit,” Beauto said firmly.

“He was,” the king agreed. “Still is, probably.”

“He’s still alive?”

“Not if I ever see him again.”

Beauto nodded. He had enough practice in his helmet that the bottom of the face shield no longer clanked against his chest plate when he did. “They say the best revenge is living well, but what’s the point if you can’t rub it in their faces? Drag him before your throne and order your knights to kill him, let him see you’ve got loyalty and respect. Let him die knowing what a fool he was.”

The king’s eyes were slightly widened, but he was smiling again. “Is that a fantasy you’ve had?”

Beauto tilted his head. “No?” he asked, confused by the question. It was just logical, wasn’t it?

“No?”

“No, it’s not. Why?”

The king laughed, shaking his head. “You know, I think I like you Squire Beauto. I really do.”

Behind his helmet, Beauto smiled.

“Speaking of which…” The king, still sitting on the floor, leaned back against the bottom step of his dais. He smiled up at Beauto, something like heat in those strange red eyes of his.

His body was relaxed, his posture casual, and as Beauto looked at him he - without looking like was doing anything other than getting more comfortable - spread his thighs.

The king wore his trousers very tight.

“Did you want to step on me again?” he asked. “Or… something else, maybe?”

Beauto swallowed. His heart was pounding, his blood rushing so loudly he almost couldn’t hear his own response.

“That's... an option?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Beauto, knowing he must look like an idiot, pointed at his chest. “Me?”

“Yes,” the king said. He didn't roll his eyes, which Beauto took as a good sign he meant it.

“I’m your enemy. I was sent here to kill you as a monster. And you'd... lay with me?”

“Absolutely,” the king said. “My standards are not high right now.” He hesitated, and added, “Do you think I’m a monster?”

“No…” Beauto said, though he was sure the king heard the doubt in it.

The church taught that the undead were not truly the dead come back to life, but demons inhabiting their bodies. Putting them down was the righteous thing to do. And though Beauto didn’t believe anymore, not really (a loving god wouldn’t allow children to be cursed before they were even conceived), it was difficult to forget something you had known as a “fact” for most of your life.

“Maybe,” Beauto admitted. “But my standards aren't high either.”

The king laughed, and reached out a hand to beckon him. Beauto took a step forward. And another. And, gently, pressed his boot against the king's thigh, forcing his legs even farther apart.

“What are you going to do to me?” the king practically purred.

Beauto had never heard that actually done before. He'd read it in novels, seen actors on the stage try it, but he'd never heard it in a voice that wasn't performing. This... right now...

This was real. This was happening. He might really, really, lose his virginity. Beauto had all but given it up for a lost cause – no one would want him with this face, and his body wasn't much to speak of either. And if he managed to survive until he didn't have this face any more, what were the chances merely being average-looking would find him a partner either? At least he could hire company then.

But right now... someone wanted him. Someone hadn't seen his face, and Beauto was fairly sure he could bluff his way through this encounter without having to remove his helmet. If the king actually preferred to be treated like an object, keeping a barrier between them shouldn't be that big of a deal.

It could happen. It could work.

Trying to hide his trembling, Beauto pulled off one glove and leaned forward to grab a fistful of the king's hair. The smile never budged.

“I want you,” Beauto said. He meant it to be the beginning of a sentence, but nothing came to mind. He was so excited he was feeling light-headed.

“You've got me, baby,” the king said. As Beauto tugged at his hair, the king's eyelids fluttered in pleasure and he let out a soft moan.

Holy shit, was it normal to get dizzy when all your blood rushed to your dick? Some of those novels had been pretty stimulating, but he'd never felt like this. The strength was even going out of his fingers with how hard it hit him.

No, wait.

Beauto stumbled, putting both feet back on the floor, hoping it would keep him upright. His vision slid sideways and he saw the king, brow wrinkled in concern, reach out for him.

He hit the ground on his already-injured side, and then everything went black.

***

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Her king had grabbed Psykos by the shoulders and was shaking her. Considering she was a witch and quite a bit older than him, the responsible thing to do here would be to remain calm and allow him to get his aggression out before asking why he felt it.

Instead, Psykos kicked his shin until he let go.

“Ow!”

“Ow first! What do you mean what's wrong with me?”

“Why did you have to cast a sleep spell on the room? Why couldn't you just leave well enough alone?”

“You were in there with one of those asshole knights!” Psykos gestured at the now-open doors to the throne room, where the enchanted knight was laying on the floor, right next to the dais.

“So what? You could have come in the side door to check first!” The servant doors were used by everyone now that the castle inhabitants lived communally, but people who didn't live there never considered there might be an entrance that wasn't huge and extravagant.

“Why? This is standard procedure.”

“I know, but-”

“You're immune to most magic, so if I cast a sleep spell everyone falls over until we can run damage control.”

“I know, but-”

“But what? I shouldn't do what I've done a dozen times? I shouldn't try to help you?”

“Help me?” the king repeated. “You just coc-”

He stopped. His eyes looked off to her side, and about two feet down.

“Co... cost me a chance to get along with somebody!”

Psykos glanced back, and confirmed that Isamu was standing there ready to help. He gave her a confused smile when she met his eyes, and she patted his shoulder.

“It's okay Isamu, we're just talking. Did you get the prisoners situated?”

“Yes, they're in that wine cellar that we emptied out because the king is trying to quit drinking.” Isamu smiled at him so brightly it even hurt Psykos to look at. “We're really proud of you for doing that!”

“Yes we are,” Psykos agreed. “See? We show our appreciation when you do things.”

The king took a breath, then slowly reached up and pressed his fingers to his temples. “Reminding me of all the wine we threw away is not helping...”

“Sorry,” Psykos said.

“Sorry,” Isamu said.

"But," Psykos continued, "did you really want to get along with somebody like that? Somebody who came to kill you?"

"Not the first time," the king said, and tapped two fingers on the side of his neck. Psykos scowled and made sure her collar was tugged up high enough to cover last night's bite mark.

"Trust me, I was watching them, those knights are assholes."

"He's not a knight," the king said.

Psykos looked, closer this time, at the figure laying on the floor. He was wearing only partial armor, an old-fashioned breastplate made of layered metal plates, and an even older bucket helmet. And he was on his back, flat, with his arms straight at his sides. Very unlikely he'd fallen that way naturally. The king must have repositioned him.

"The squire," she said. "The one they called-" She cut herself off. What was his real name? "Bureau?"

"Beauto," the king said.

"Beauto. Right. He was…" He was the one they were all being assholes to. "He seemed all right."

"And you just knocked him out right when things were getting good." The king rubbed his hands over his head, curling his fingers into his hair. "Shit, he's going to think it was a trap. Think I was buying time, not…"

"It's my fault," Psykos said quickly. "I'll apologize and explain everything if you want."

The king looked up.

"The spell will last about an hour, let's put him in a guest room so he knows he's not a prisoner as soon as he wakes up."

"You think?" the king said.

He looked so hopeful. This was more than just a cockblock situation, the king really liked this guy.

"I'm sure," Psykos said.

After all, she'd seen his face. He couldn't have a line of prospective lovers knocking down his door. If a king - undead or not - was interested in him, Beauto would be a fool to say no.

***

Beauto woke in bed. For a moment he was disoriented, feeling like he'd been dreaming something completely ridiculous. He reached out for his helmet, like he did every morning he spent in the barracks, hiding his face as quickly as possible before any of the younger squires woke up.

His hand met nothing but more bedding. Soft, plush mattress, smooth fabric. This was not his bed.

The castle. The king.

Beauto jolted upright. The curtains in the room were open, sunlight streaming in, unimpeded by either curtains or the face shield of Beauto's helmet.

"Shit!" He covered as much of his face as he could with one hand and fumbled for the edge of the bed. Who took it? Why? The king hadn't seen, had he?

"Oh hey, you're awake!" The king stood up from a chair in the corner. He was smiling, nearly as bright as the sun, looking Beauto right in the eye.

Beauto threw himself backward and covered himself with the sheet.

"What's wrong?" he heard the king ask.

"Why?" Beauto demanded. "Why did you take my helmet, why?"

He could feel himself choking up. This was foolish, it was just sex, he'd known it was never going to happen for him.

"Why? Why?"

Why did he feel like crying? Why did this upset him so much?

"Okay, okay," he heard the king moving around the room. "I wasn't supposed to, I guess? I'm sorry. Is this a religious thing, or…"

"Why would you do it?" Beauto said. Begged. "I don't understand, why couldn't you just- just- Why?"

"You were knocked out, we wanted to make you more comfortable while you had to lay there."

"We?" Beauto repeated. "Who else saw?"

"Uh, a couple of guards? Hana and- Shit, I can never remember Ami's dad's name."

"Three people saw me? You saw my face?"

"I'm really sorry, I didn't know I wasn't supposed to."

Beauto could see the shadow of him moving, between the sheet and the window. The king was close, too close. What did he want? He couldn't want what he'd wanted before.

"Here's your helmet," the king said, his shadow holding something out.

Beauto stuck one hand out of the blanket, and when metal touched his fingers he whisked the heavy object under the covers with him to safety.

Only once he was sure he was hidden did Beauto pull the sheets off his head.

"Where's the rest of my armor?" His clothes were intact, only his armor and boots had been removed. Ugh. Undressed like a doll.

"Over here." 

Through the eye slits in the helmet, Beauto saw the king gesture at the same corner where he'd been sitting. There was an armor stand there, a real one, looking naked without more than the random pieces Beauto was permitted to wear.

He turned away from the king, making sure his tunic hem was pulled down and his trousers were pulled up before climbing out of the opposite side of the bed.

"Do I have permission to leave?" Beauto asked, trying his best to maintain what dignity he had. His voice was still shaky and thick with snot.

"You're not a prisoner," the king said, sadly. Of course he'd be disappointed. "I'd like it if you stayed as a guest, but that's entirely up to you. No hard feelings here, I promise."

Beauto didn't believe it but he didn't dare call it out. He hadn't lied, the king had never asked to see his face, but realizing he'd nearly slept with someone who looked like Beauto must have felt like dodging a cannon ball.

"What happened to my… traveling party?"

"They were caught trying to loot the castle. The rule around here is that anyone's allowed to challenge me to a fight, the rest of the residents and staff will get out of the way, but stealing isn't something we can tolerate."

"At least let me take Squire Atama," Beauto said. "He's only fifteen, he hasn't had a chance to know better."

"What?" the king said. He shook his head. "You can take all of them, we don't want them, I just meant my political advisor cast a sleep spell on them and tossed them in the wine cellar."

Beauto blinked. He hadn't quite shed any tears, but his eyes still felt tired. "Your… political advisor?"

"She's pretty good at manipulating people so it was as good a title as any. But she's a witch if that's what you mean."

"Why the wine cellar?"

"We don't have dungeons or anything. It's an enclosed room with nothing in it at the moment, and the only door is at the top of a narrow staircase so we've got the advantage if they try to break out."

"You don't have dungeons," Beauto said, flatly.

"No. I think this castle used to be a fancy hunting lodge."

"What do you do with all the other knights that try to kill you?"

"They usually fight themselves into exhaustion and then we toss 'em out."

Beauto shook his head. No wonder so many rumors had spread about this damned kingdom and the "monster" that ruled it. They kept letting their enemies survive! Let them leave humiliated and carrying a grudge!

"I'll tell them we lost," Beauto said. "I… won't tell anyone about what-" No, the king wouldn't even want Beauto to acknowledge what had almost happened. "I'll go," he said, quietly. "I won't come back. The knights won't talk about me when they tell this story, they never do. No one will ever know I was here."

Beauto had been standing there with his face turned down, no desire to see the look at the king's expression when Beauto alluded to their near-tryst. Would it be anger? Disgust? Fear? He'd gotten all three before, and in every combination.

"I'm sorry," the king said. "It wasn't a trick, I swear. I didn't want Psykos to knock you out."

"I know." But he must be glad for it now. He'd probably give her a raise.

“You can ask her yourself!”

“There's no need.”

“Can you tell me why people shouldn't see your face? Or is it a personal thing.”

In surprise, Beauto looked up at him. The king's expression was… confused. Concerned. Not a trace of disgust.

“Why would I want anyone to see it?”

“Because… it's your face?” The king's brow squiggled like one of those flat-faced dogs.

“And now that you've seen it, do you still want to bed me?”

“Yes?” the king said.

“You see? That's why-” Beauto stopped. “What did you say?”

“I- I said yes?” the king said. “I wanted you when as far as I knew you had no face, why would seeing you make me feel different?”

He tilted his head, as if Beauto were an abstract painting he was trying to figure out. Beauto was very glad he wasn't being seen at the moment, because his mouth was opening and closing like a goldfish as he tried to process what he'd just heard.

Yes. The king said yes. He still wanted him.

It couldn't be possible.

“That can't be possible,” Beauto muttered aloud.

The king's expression changed, smoothed out, his eyes widening. “You really believe that,” he said. He shook his head. “Holy shit, who hurt you?”

Beauto gave a mirthless huff of laughter. “Everyone?”

Over two decades of memories hit Beauto all at once, and he sunk back down onto the edge of the bed.

“Everyone,” he said again. “No one has ever seen my face and not been put off by it.”

He heard the king's voice behind him, and felt the bed sink as he sat on the other side. “Really? I mean... it's not that I don't believe you, it's just... Are you sure?”

Beauto would be angry if it was anyone else, but there was nothing to gain for the king to jerk him around like this. Nothing but sick sadistic pleasure, and Beauto knew what that looked like from both sides. This wasn't bullying, this was ignorance.

“You said it yourself, didn't you? You asked what I'd done that I still haven't been made a knight. The answer is... be born like this.” Beauto smiled to himself. He had to smile, or he'd start screaming. “I've been a squire longer than I was a page, now, but that was a long time too. No knight wanted the ugly kid to strap on their armor for them.”

“But... but that's...”

Beauto turned. His helmet slits weren't wide enough that he could see the king unless he pulled one leg up on the bed and brought his whole body sideways. He was surprised to see the king had done the same, leaning toward him across the mattress.

“The knights... Well, you heard them. You know what they call me.”

“They're assholes,” the king said. “Who cares what they think?”

“Everyone thinks it. When you look like me, people are happy to jump to the worst conclusions.” Beauto had to avert his gaze again. "And… they're not entirely wrong. You know what I am. What I like."

“Nobody gets to choose what they're turned on by,” the king said. “Being an asshole is a choice. Every time.”

“You make it sound so simple,” Beauto said.

“It should be simple! It shouldn't have to be hard to expect basic human decency!”

Beauto looked up, and saw the king wince.

“Sorry… I think I'm projecting a little here.”

“Ah.” Of course, someone visibly undead would have faced even worse than Beauto ever had. And the king had been made this way, he said. He was never an ordinary human.

But it rankled, somehow. Being compared to something that never should have expected to be accepted. Beauto was a victim of a generations-old curse, he wasn't a monster like the king.

He said none of this out loud, having learned a long time ago that thoughts like that would never be rewarded.

“You’re right,” Beauto said. That was usually a safe bet, although he’d already forgotten what they were talking about.

“Damn right I’m right,” the king said, full of confidence. And then added, “What were we talking about?”

In spite of everything, Beauto laughed.

The king smiled at him, all warm eyes and soft lips. It still felt like Beauto would be thrown out of this bedroom at any moment, but he couldn’t help enjoying the view.

“You have an amazing voice, you know that?” the king said suddenly.

“Yes,” Beauto said, bluntly. That was the one thing he’d refuse to accept insults about. “I’m a singer. I was in the church choir for all of my childhood, and I’d have liked to do it for a living, but I was… gently discouraged from following that path.”

The king shook his head. “It’s the world’s loss.”

Beauto smiled. “Well… maybe in six years.”

“What’s in six years? Are you on a squiring contract?”

“That’s not a thing,” Beauto laughed. “No, it’s the deadline for the curse. That’s why I look like this, my bloodline is cursed.”

The king blinked a couple times, and his wispy brows drew together in confusion. “You’re cursed?”

“I think- I hope that’s why people react the way they do. That it’s magic and not human nature making them turn against me as soon as they get a look.” Beauto sighed. “But I doubt it.”

“We can solve that!” The king sat up straight and clapped his hands together. “I have a witch!”

Beauto did not succeed in stopping the king from calling his “political advisor” into the bedroom. Nor did he stop the woman (she looked mid-twenties but mages could sometimes extend their lives through unethical means, and her clothes were several decades out of date) from rattling off half of a rehearsed apology before the king stopped her.

“I explained all that,” he said. “He's cursed, Psykos.”

The king had at least had the foresight to move them to chairs, but there were only two in the room and the king had - of all things - elected to perch on the tea table between them instead of calling for a third. It was strange, but having him there as a buffer made Beauto feel more at ease.

“How so?” the woman, Psykos, asked.

The king turned to Beauto, waiting for him to explain, and Beauto allowed himself a sigh. He'd explained this so many times in his life that he'd gotten bored. How could you sum up a lifetime of suffering in a few sentences?

“It's my whole family. The firstborn is always born hideously ugly, no matter what their parents looked like. At twenty we gain shapeshifting powers, but if we use them we'll die in ten years.”

“Well that's some bullshit,” the woman said, as if Beauto had described something no more serious than a rude encounter at the pub.

“I’ve managed to hold out for four years, two months, and thirteen days.”

“Let's see,” the woman said.

She reached out for Beauto’s hand, and he automatically flinched back.

“I'm sorry,” she said, more gently. “If it's on your bloodline I'll need to touch you to get an idea. If I can see your face it'll be even easier, since that's that part it affects the most.”

Beauto didn’t move. Her words made sense, but he hadn’t willingly taken his helmet off in front of another human in over three years. Why would he, when all it did was destroy any favorable impressions they might have?

She wouldn’t be able to break the curse. No one could, no one had, not in at least three generations of searching. The king might not mind Beauto’s face, but the king was undead. Maybe the curse didn’t affect him in the same way.

“If it makes a difference, I’ve already seen you without that thing,” the woman said.

Beauto shrunk back further. The king said that he and two guards saw him, but he hadn’t said anything about this witch.

“When? Why?” Beauto demanded.

“I can see through the eyes of some animals, so it’s part of my job to keep an eye on any new visitors to the area. Your traveling party was suspicious, and I checked in on you several times over the last few days. I saw you getting ready before the others woke up.”

Beauto winced.

“I saw the way they treated you,” she added.

The ever-familiar anger began to well up within him. Of course she had. Of course. It was bad enough he’d been exposed literally, why not figuratively as well? At this point he could strip and feel less naked.

Fuck it.

Beauto pulled his helmet off and threw it across the room. He heard it bounce off the bed frame and rattle along the floor, coming to a rest just out of the corner of his eye. He glared at the woman’s face, and saw, just as he’d expected, shock and disgust twist her features.

“Oh that is nasty,” she said.

“I told you!” Beauto snapped. He tried to get up, but the king leaned over and grabbed his hand.

“No, come on baby, hear her out.”

“Why?” he said.

“That’s not what she meant.” The king turned to her and hissed, “It’s not, is it?”

“No!” the woman said, raising her hands quickly. “I just haven’t seen a death curse that detailed before.”

Beauto felt his brow furrow, before remembering his bare face and trying to compose himself. “Yes, I said it was deadly.”

“Not deadly,” the woman said. “A death curse. Meaning it was powered by death.”

Beauto sunk back in his seat. “Someone… killed someone to curse my family?”

“Maybe,” she said. “But that’s difficult as hell. This looks to me more like the caster died.”

“H… how?”

“Hard to say whether it was suicide or they were already dying. But either way, this is what they did with their last breath.”

Beauto shook his head. Whatever was showing on his face, it made the king take his hand.

“What did my ancestor do to this person?”

“Whatever it was, it wasn’t worth dooming their whole family,” the woman said. “Don’t dwell on it.”

“No, I…” Beauto covered his mouth with his free hand.

He could picture it. A handsome bully, tormenting someone for their looks until that person felt they couldn’t go on. But they’d get their revenge, oh yes, they would make that bastard pay. They would make his grandchildren pay. None of them would ever forget what it was like to be the easy target.

He’d do the same thing in their place.

“Don’t dwell on it,” the king repeated, softly.

“I’m not,” Beauto lied.

“I can try to break it,” the woman said. “But this kind of magic is thorny. It’ll take me years to unravel, maybe a decade or more.”

Slowly, Beauto raised his head. “But you can do it?”

“I can, if you can wait that long.”

Years… He had six years left before the curse broke on its own, but if he could shorten that even a day he would go for it. And if it was longer, then… Then it wouldn’t matter, really. But if she could break it for him, she could break it for others.

“I don’t intend to have children, but I’d certainly like to remove the possibility of passing it on, just in case.”

“You don’t want kids?” the king said. There was just a bit too much interest in his tone.

“I didn’t think anyone would ever want me for a partner, so I haven’t considered it,” Beauto said.

“You have any experience with ‘em?”

“Kids? Yes, I have three younger half-siblings. We’re not close but we got along well enough.”

They were the only people - the only ones before the king - who had never been disgusted by him. They’d known Beauto for their entire lives, so perhaps that canceled it out.

The king nodded, as if filing that information away.

Beauto felt the corner of his mouth begin to rise. “Don’t tell me you’re considering a relationship with me. We’ve known each other for an hour.”

“Hey, it’s just good to know! If you hated kids I’d know not to get attached.”

“You’re undead, can you even father children?”

“Hell if I know,” the king said. “But I’ve already more or less adopted one and I’m not ruling it out for the future.”

Across the table, the woman cleared her throat. “So… Are you considering staying then, Sir Beauto?”

Beauto flinched. “Squire. I’m a squire.”

A moment later, her words filtered in.

“Wait, what?”

“Come on, Psykos,” the king said. Beauto noted he was blushing, a little bit of life once again returning to his bloodless cheeks. “That’s a lot to ask.”

“I thought you liked him.”

“I- I do, but you can’t ask a guy to move in on the first date. Even if it’s just an invitation to join the kingdom, what if he thinks-”

“Yes,” Beauto said.

What did he have waiting for him back home? Six more years of humiliation, a king who expected three knights to overthrow an army of undead, a family who would rather forget he’d been born. His little siblings would only miss the solstice presents he brought them and his mother refused to talk about her first marriage at all. He only went to church anymore because knights were expected to be faithful, and he had to be better than perfect if he ever wanted that title. Why keep it up? Why keep fighting for respect he’d never get?

He would never have to see or speak to that damn Sir Kakato again.

“You want to stay?” the king said, sounding surprised, but happily so.

“I do,” Beauto said. “Though preferably not as a kept man. I think you’ll be disappointed by my skills anyway, I was bluffing earlier, I’m a virgin.”

“That was bluffing?” the king said, even more surprised this time. “Damn, you’ve got a natural talent then.”

“Okay I’m leaving,” the woman said, smoothly rising from her chair. “You boys have fun, I’ll have Isamu draw up the citizenship papers.”

“Yeah yeah.” The king waved her off, not taking his eyes off Beauto’s face.

His bare, helmet-less face.

Nervously, Beauto reached up and tried to straighten his hair. It was a futile effort, as always, not to mention the helmet making it worse. There would be weird creases and split ends and sometimes it got tousled so much it looked like a bird’s nest.

But despite looking like that, neither the king nor his advisor had shown any disgust. Beauto thought Psykos had, at first, but the rest of the conversation she was looking at him dead-on with nary a blink. Did they… really not care?

“Wait,” Beauto said as the woman reached for the door handle. “The curse. Did- can you see how it works?”

“Yes,” the woman said. She tapped the frame of her glasses. “I’ve got these enchanted, otherwise I’d need a blood sample. Why?”

“People have been treating me like…” Beauto trailed off. “Well, like you saw. It’s been like that all my life. I wanted to know, is it- is it the curse? Does it make me look inhuman? Does it cause people to be repulsed by me?”

He dared to look up as he waited for her answer, and he hated how much pity he saw in her eyes. “No. I’m sorry, Sir Beauto, the curse is purely physical. It seems like you’ve just spent your life surrounded by assholes.”

Beauto pressed his lips together, and nodded. “That’s what I thought. Thank you.”

It was what he’d thought, but not what he’d hoped.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Psykos said. “Goodnight.”

It was late afternoon, judging by the light coming through the windows, but the king’s advisor expected they would be occupied for the rest of the day.

Beauto swallowed.

The door shut, the king looked at Beauto expectantly, and Beauto found himself saying what he was thinking for the first time in years.

“I hate people.”

“Oh.”

“Everyone I’ve ever met.”

“Okay.”

“My life changed so much after I started wearing my helmet. I got it on my first mission outside the country, and everything was different. People didn't shy away from me, shop clerks actually greeted me...”

“They didn't before?” the king exclaimed.

“I don't know if... I'm frightening, maybe? I look like people think a thug should look. That, or... maybe they can tell I hate them. All of them.”

“You've got the right to,” the king said.

“I hoped it was the curse. I didn’t believe it, but I hoped. Now that I know for sure… I really hate them.”

“I’m sorry you went through that,” the king said. He’d still been holding Beauto’s hand this whole time, and now he squeezed it.

“Even my own grandfather. He was a preacher, and in his sermons he used to use me as an example of hardships his family faced. Say that god sent me to test them.”

“What the fuck,” the king said softly.

“I actually didn't mind that. I think I thought it gave me purpose.”

“Seriously, what the fuck?”

“I don’t feel that way anymore, don’t worry.”

“Good, because… Good.” The king shook his head and squeezed a little harder. “R Kingdom’s dinky, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s even smaller than here.”

“I hate to say it, but if everyone you've spent time with knew you your whole life, already thought of you as a target, maybe it was the location that was the problem?”

“Maybe,” Beauto said. “It’s a nice thought. But if I am going to stay here, I… I’d prefer to keep wearing my helmet.” He glanced at the king, who met his eyes without hesitation. “At least in public.”

“We can get you a new one. Hell, if you don’t mind armor that was died in, we can get you one for every day of the week.”

The old helmet had probably belonged to a dead knight too. “As long as it’s been boiled clean.”

“Then you’re staying?” the king asked, hope and warmth in his voice.

He kept asking that. Almost as if the king expected to be left behind at any moment.

A thought occurred, and Beauto nearly smiled. “I want to stay, and I want to spend the night with you if you’ll let me.”

“Hell yes.”

“But I’m still a little worried about my traveling party. If they think you’ve killed me, they might hold a grudge.”

“Okay,” the king said. “So you want to see them off?”

“Yes,” Beauto said. “I would very much like to see them off.”

Mid-morning, the three knights and one squire were dragged back to the throne room. The king waited on his throne, flanked on one side by his witch (now decked out in even-older-looking clothes, though the black dye had held strong), and on the other by a knight in full plate armor (with a black finish that had been hastily applied and still smelled faintly of chemicals).

Beauto thought to himself, standing on the dias, that looking through the visor slits of his new helmet at Sir Kakato cowering on the ground was very nearly as satisfying as last night had been. Whatever their treatment during their visit to the wine cellar, the knights now looked thoroughly dejected.

But not scared. Not yet. At least one of them was smart enough to know they’d be dead already if the undead king wanted to kill them, and would have explained it to the others. So they were beaten, but not broken.

“You come to my castle,” the king said, slowly. “You try to kill me. You spit on my floor. You steal my things.”

The knights didn’t say a word, though Atama looked at Sir Onaka as if expecting something. Kakato fixed his eyes on the floor and hunched in on himself, trying to look smaller. Like all bullies, he turned into a coward when faced with someone he genuinely could not beat.

“You are all very lucky. Luckier than you can imagine,” the king said. “Because despite your best efforts, I’m having a good day.” Beauto could hear the smile in his voice, and he was sure it was a wicked one. “So I’ll be letting you go on your way, with bodies and belongings intact.”

Relief washed across the whole party’s faces. But Atama glanced at Sir Onaka again, and then the other two, and finally spoke up.

“Um, sire, is it… May I ask what happened to our other companion? Squire Beauto?”

“Ah, yes.” The king smiled again. “He kept me very well entertained.”

Atama went pale. Beauto almost felt bad about it, but even the boy had looked down on him. Assumed the worst, like everyone else. Bragged about the fact he would surely reach a knighthood before “Dogface.”

But he was only fifteen, and Beauto remembered being fifteen. He couldn’t be too angry. The boy still had time to grow.

“Is he…” Atama swallowed. “Sire. What can I tell his family?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” The king glanced at Beauto. “Tell them his adventure stopped here.”

Under his helmet, Beauto chuckled.

The king sat up and clapped, and two undead soldiers brought the knights’ supplies into the throne room, dumping it all unceremoniously on the floor.

“Take what’s yours,” the king said, and the knights and Atama quickly scrambled to their feet.

They picked up their packs, loading bags onto already-encumbered shoulders. Atama must have helped all three back into their armor that morning. He’d tightened Kakato’s straps too much and the knight’s clothing was bunching around it. He would be uncomfortable all day.

Beauto smiled.

The king leaned over, and whispered, “Which one?”

“Blue,” Beauto said. His bag was the largest by far.

The king raised his voice. “I said, take what’s yours.” He snapped his fingers and pointed, and Beauto strode forward to snatch his bag from Atama’s arms as if following the order, and not that they’d discussed this beforehand.

Atama skittered away from him in fear. “I just- I thought-”

“It is ours!” Kakato exclaimed. Of course he found his tongue when trying to steal something. “If my squire is dead, his belongings belong to m- us!”

Beauto ignored him, keeping a tight grip on the straps with one hand, and letting the other rest on his sword hilt.

“And our maps are in there, and most of our cooking stuff!”

“Give them the maps,” the king said. “We want them to be able to find their way out.”

Beauto nodded, enjoying the way his new helmet fit so well he didn’t have to worry about it sliding. He pulled the maps from the side pocket and handed them over to Atama. Kakato couldn’t read one and the other two wouldn’t take orders from each other, not even if it was just directions.

He turned, planning to hand the bag off to one of the soldiers, when behind him he heard Kakato say -

“Dogface?”

Maybe it was the sword. Beauto hadn’t replaced it along with the armor, he still had his hand-and-a-half sword sheathed at his hip. Maybe it was body language, and Kakato actually had paid enough attention to his squire over the last year to learn the way he moved. Or maybe it was that the black knight hadn’t needed to ask where the maps were in such an overstuffed traveling pack.

Whatever it was that gave him away, Beauto was caught.

Fuck it.

He took his hand off his sword and backhanded Kakato across the face, hard enough to send him sprawling. One of the undead soldiers stepped forward and took Beauto’s bag, leaving him with both hands free to grab Kakato by his breastplate and haul him to his feet. There was a red mark on his cheek and a shallow scratch that wasn’t even bleeding, but Kakato was wide-eyed and panting with shock.

“If I ever hear that name out of your mouth again,” Beauto hissed, “I will see to it your jaw needs to be wired shut. Understand?”

Kakato gaped at him, mouth hanging open like a fool. After a second he seemed to realize the irony of this, and snapped it shut.

Beauto let go of him, making sure to shove him just enough that he stumbled into Onaka, who moved out of the way rather than steady his fellow knight.

“Go,” the king said, his voice raised to carry. “Leave my kingdom while I’m still in a good mood. If any of you have half the brains of your former squire, you’ll never return.”

The knights didn’t wait on propriety, moving as soon as the door was open and already beginning to nudge each other and whisper in the hallway outside. Beauto saw Atama glance back, stunned, his eyes fixed on Beauto’s black helmet.

Beauto said nothing. Whatever conclusions Atama decided to draw were his own business.

The doors shut, the king sighed and slumped in his throne, and then one of the soldiers looked at Beauto and asked if he was okay.

Beauto nodded.

“Did he call you that all the time? What an asshole.”

Beauto nodded again, and let out a sigh of his own. “It’s over now.”

“Yeah, that’s right, forget about them,” the soldier agreed firmly.

Beauto would have to learn his name. He seemed nice, and if Beauto was going to stay he would need to get along with others. And a man with a gaping hole where his nose ought to be had no room to judge Beauto for his looks.

Maybe that was why the king and Psykos hadn’t reacted much. Being surrounded by walking corpses surely gave you a much higher tolerance for unpleasant visages.

The click-clack of two pairs of heels heralded the people in question. Beauto and the soldiers snapped to attention in unison.

“I hate that,” the king said. “Psykos, I hate it when they do that.”

“I know you do,” she said, soothingly. “All right, I’ve got to go keep an eye on those assholes to make sure they leave the country and don’t set any fields on fire on the way out.” She glanced at Beauto. “Want me to have the crows shit on them?”

“No,” Beauto said. “Atama would be the one to have to clean it off.”

“Fair enough.” She waved as she flounced off, wavy hair flowing behind her.

How did she make it look like that? Was it magic or could Beauto actually do something about his rat’s nest?

The soldiers trooped off as well, returning to their usual duties. They still had their army training, but the way they spoke to Beauto and each other was far more relaxed than the soldiers Beauto knew from home.

His old home, that is.

Now alone in the throne room, Beauto followed the king back to his throne. He glanced around, making sure he hadn’t missed someone, and turned away from the doors before lifting his visor.

“Are you okay with this?” the king asked.

“It was my idea, my king.”

“Yeah but… you could have gone further.”

“Would you have let me?” Beauto asked, with a smile.

“If you thought they needed killing, I’d trust your judgment.”

“That’s a mistake. I think I’m less merciful than you are, sire.”

The king tilted his head and looked up at Beauto. His eyes were blood red, but already Beauto found the color more fascinating than disturbing.

“But you didn’t do it,” the king said. “You let them go, you didn’t even beat the shit out of that one guy.”

“I couldn’t do that,” Beauto said. “I’m a knight, and you’re my liege. My behavior reflects on you.”

The king smiled. He was so handsome that if Beauto hadn’t spent the entire previous night defiling him, it would have been hard not to hate him.

“Does it?” he said softly.

“Of course. This is my home now. Even if we tire of each other, it will still be my duty to protect this kingdom and its king. And that includes our reputation.”

The king crooked a finger, beckoning Beauto closer. “You can guard my reputation,” he said warmly, “as long as you keep calling me a slut in private.”

“You are a slut,” Beauto said. “It’s not slander if it’s the truth.” He put his hand on the arm of the throne and leaned over the king’s body, lowering his voice to a near whisper. “But only I’m allowed to say it.”

The king’s eyes lit up, and he tilted his head back, welcoming Beauto as he went in for a kiss.

A few days ago Beauto thought he would die a squire and a virgin, and now he could kiss a king whenever he liked. If this was a dream he hoped he never woke up.

The door slammed open and Beauto jumped back, pulling his visor down over his face. The young boy Beauto had seen in passing this morning ran across the room without waiting for permission, and stuffed a stack of papers into the bewildered king’s arms.

“Horses!” he said, as if that explained anything. “I gotta go, the sables got out!”

“How the- Isamu!”

The boy kept running, out the side door behind the drapes.

“Isamu!”

As that door too slammed shut behind their visitor, the king sunk down in his throne and groaned.

“Is it always like this?” Beauto asked, amused.

The king grumbled something incoherent.

“Do you want help?”

Wordlessly, the king held out the papers for Beauto to take.

It turned out to be a list of items they needed to get the stables resupplied. No part of the list actually mentioned horses, but Beauto had done most kinds of chores around a castle before and he knew what went where.

“I’ll take care of it,” Beauto said.

“Wait, really? Can you?”

“Sure, this is simple. Why did the boy give it to you instead of the stablemaster?”

“We don’t have one of those.”

“The castle seneschal then.”

“Isamu is the seneschal.”

Beauto was quiet for a moment as a lot of things he’d noticed began to make sense. Though the castle was large and they’d gone to effort to make it comfortable for all the inhabitants, and everyone respected the king and his authority, no one seemed particularly organized. Even the armory had been unlocked and unguarded when Beauto went to pick out his new armor.

“You need me,” Beauto said.

“I do,” the king agreed, no hint of innuendo in his voice for once. The situation may be even more dire than Beauto suspected. “Oh gods, I really do.”

Taking that as blanket permission to act on his behalf, Beauto set out. With his new armor and his old sword and a long night’s worth of aches and bruises that he wouldn’t have given up for the world. For now his job was just shopping and scrounging, but he was trusted now, truly trusted. Piece by piece Beauto would take the power that trust gave him and turn this kingdom into something to be proud of.

He hummed as he walked the halls, an old ballad about love and loss and the faithful getting their just rewards.

Beauto was a traitor, technically, but right now he felt very rewarded indeed.

[gorgin-gals-muses]

"Eep! E-excuse me!" Fubuki stomping as carefully as she can through the packed streets... Wincing a bit as her hips and belly was wedged between the skyscrapers beside her. She tried gingerly to nudge the people and cars aside with her pudgy feet, but it was so hard to see with her belly and breasts in the way that she probably knocked quite a few people over, kicking them aside like pinecones.

She felt herself near-slipping a few times as she walked on aimlessly... If not for the way her gigantic, earth-shaking enormity made the earth crack around her feet like thick snow, then the endless rain of Kanai Ward would've surely caused her to fall ass-first.

The behemoth bunny-girl's stomach rumbled, a a thick groan from deep within her gut, audible to everyone in a quarter-mile radius. What exactly was she supposed to eat?

[sheriffslop]

Goodnight, ClockBolt Nation ( Fubuki never properly packing for any adventure she goes on and always comes back feeling sick and dehydrated, send tweet. ) 🤠✨🥂

[brownhairedbookworm]

"Hmmm, true..." Fubuki paused slightly, pivoting on one foot to find a seat... though the only one was taken up. "I... think I am a bit tired though..." In brain and body, it looked like. Girl art critiqued a bit too close to the sun.

"Short bench break, then?" Monika smiles at her. "Museums aren't great places for cool drinks, maybe I should have packed some extra water..."

[tobiasdrake]

Alright. We have one friend in trouble and one friend who left that's decidedly past trouble.

I am no longer as confident in my Wishful Thinking theory that there are multiple sets of the Master Detectives thanks to being UG homunculi rather than Amaterasu homunculi, so our versions of them are fine. But even if that's true, it still sucks that this fate befell the others.

Though whether these are our friends or not, if they are UG homunculi, then they'll regenerate fine. Only Amaterasu's shitty off-brand homunculi are defective, to our knowledge. We know Amaterasu homunculi have to consume human flesh in order to avoid going feral, and instantly and irrevocably go feral the first time they regenerate. But we know the latter does not apply to UG homunculi, and don't know if the former does or not.

But if they're human, then they're just fucked. Sorry, guys. Hope you'll get well soon.

Oh, we're about to learn about UG homunculi. Wanna bet Makoto's the first homunculus?

Sure sounds like she's talking about Makoto here. This would explain why he so adamantly shut down homunculus research at Amaterasu as soon as he seized control of the facility.

But if Makoto didn't create the Kanai Ward homunculi, who did? We can be pretty sure at this point that the feral homunculus outbreak from the facility is responsible for everyone dying, and then being remade as defective homunculi.

But who did that? If Makoto isn't responsible, then what happened during the Blank Week?

She's safe! And non-feral!

You probably did. Aiko died six months ago, but Blank Week was three years ago. So Aiko would be wandering around this place as a feral too. So would Karen, as a matter of fact. Basically the entire theater club is now roaming the Restricted Area as ferals.

...that's really sad. Those girls had hopes and dreams and futures. T_T I hope Feral Aiko meets up with Feral Waruna, Yoshiko, and Kurane, and they can form a pack.

God, this chapter is the bleakest thing Kodaka's ever written. And trust me, as a Danganronpa aficionado, that competition is steep.

Kurumi's taking all of this in stride. Her emotional fortitude is amazing. "We're surrounded by the zombies of everyone who's ever died in Kanai Ward? Wow, that's so interesting. OH, MY DEAD BESTIE! Hey, let's catch up!"

Put her in the "10/10 Would play a spinoff starring them" category alongside Halara and Fubuki. Also Vivia, technically, but why would you do that? Let the man rest.

...that's interesting. So maybe it's not everyone who was made into a homunculus. Vivia's report said that you can distinguish homunculi from humans based on undisclosed "special characteristics of their blood".

But if some people were human then they wouldn't have missing memories of the Blank Week, right? They'd remember what happened to everyone else. Wouldn't they?

They were taking this homunculus-testing deadly seriously.

Her grandpa also knew about the homunculi. Kurumi was the first person to tell us about them; She got that information from her missing grandfather.

So. Maybe. He was a human survivor of the Whatever Killed Everyone. Instead of testing for homunculi, the Peacekeepers may have been testing for humans hidden among the population. People who would know and remember what happened. People who were a threat to Yomi's information control.

Multiple people avoided the tests!? Who were the others!? Are they alive or did Yomi get them too?

Yeah. Okay. They were witch-hunting for human survivors.

Definitely feeling Yomi for the person responsible for the necropolis. He's a fascist but he was working directly with Huesca to sell company secrets for years. Maybe he knew enough to make this happen, but not enough to not make a city full of defective homunculi, oh my god.

Could that be--

... O.O Oh. My. God.

Oh my god.

Oh my god.

The blood tests were before the Blank Week. They weren't looking for homunculus or human DNA. They were taking samples. Samples for Huesca's rushed homunculus project, which created the defective homunculi that killed everyone.

That's what happened to Kurumi's grandpa. Nothing happened to Kurumi's grandpa. Or the others who got away from the testing. They got away with it. They never gave samples.

So when the city-load of homunculi were created, they were never copied with everyone else. To the perspective of everyone waking up and going "Huh, what happened?" one week after their human counterparts died horrifically, those select people simply dropped off the face of the universe, never to be seen again.

Kurumi's grandfather is not Number One. He's not Makoto. He's not anyone. He was devoured by ferals three years ago. Nothing more and nothing less.

That was the day you first woke up, in the image of a high school girl that died here.

Right now, my biggest burning question is: What became of the ferals that ate Kanai Ward? How did they come to no longer be eating the city. It's not like they could have simply left. If a roaming pack of regenerating immortal zombies was devouring cities across the globe, we would have heard about it.

Are they here in the Restricted Area with everyone else? If so, how did that happen? Did UG come in and clear them out? Did Yomi do it somehow?

Is that where these music-playing Ama-Pals with KANAI WARD SIGNATURE MEAT BUN steamers came in? Did whoever was left at Amaterasu use these to Pied Piper the ferals out of the city and herd them into the Restricted Area?

We have a strong understanding now of what happened during Blank Week but who and how still eludes us.

Oh, and we also don't know how that is involved. What part of this results in the Forever Rain? We have so many answers and so many questions and none of it links up to "Bizarre weather phenomenon causing endless rain".

Is it the testing site explosion? Did that fuck up the climate or something? The testing site is built over the ocean. Shinigami made a note of pointing that out so you'd assume it's relevant to something and Forever Rain is the only thing I can think of.

We've painted a very strong picture of what's happening here but we still don't know everything. Or why Makoto killed the Master Detectives and is now making us learn all of this.

Does he want us to find all the secrets so we can use the Mystery Labyrinth to kill him or something? Because that doesn't perma-kill homunculi. We've seen the evidence of that for ourselves.

[sciamano240]

Fubuki alt, from One Punch Man. Preview from my latest Gumroad pack. GUMROAD LINK

[koifishart]

I want to be Your Koi Fish - special chapters

Warning: +18 content, criminal underworld, intercourse, strong language - and so on

Fanfiction based on: "Baki" by Itagaki Keisuke

>Tenko Kitsune<

As every morning, she got up fresh and well rested. Looked at her watch. It was almost 6:00. The perfect time to open the window on a cool summer morning, unfold the mat and stretch spine before the next day, probably full of ups and downs. Did she care? Rather not very much, it will always be somehow! Inhale...exhale...dog with head up...and down...half bow...bend forward...up. She heard the panels clink on the stairs - time to grease them. Sisters got up and walked into the kitchen. She rolled the mat up, put it in the closet, then pulled out a pink t-shirt, fresh underwear, light socks with a rose pattern, and dark work overalls with large pockets. In such an outfit, she appeared in children's bedrooms to wake them up one by one. They slept so sweetly: girls wrapped in quilts, boys dug up, heads in legs. However, time passed relentlessly! They all marched for clothes, only the youngest, Fubuki, rubbing her sleepy eyes, approached her, stretching out hands. She hugged the tiny body to hers to lift it up and walk to get the dress and thin tights. When everyone was ready, they heard a call from the ground floor:

- Breakfast!

Ayame may be tone-deaf, but she could cry so firmly that none of the little ones would dare delay. Although maybe they were just hungry? The dining room smelled deliciously of pancakes. Sweet breakfast! Her favorite! She helped pack lunch boxes, including her own, and when they had all eaten, split up to take the children to school and kindergarten. As soon as the joyful three flew into the arms of the tutors, she headed for the outskirts of Setagaya, to the pushed aside building of not the first youth, which she was renovating step by step, to finally become her dream workshop. Everything she renewed, did according to a plan kept improving. Fortunately, she didn't complain about the lack of customers. They were mostly women, happily accepting her approach to the client. She knew perfectly well what typical "male" workshops and control stations could look like. Yes...that was also planned. A vehicle inspection station...but for that it needed a much more modern place and she wanted to organize one. Meanwhile, it remained a slowly renovated recovered building. She always tried to be nice and helpful to all who came to her with a problem, but especially men often had problems with culture and familiarity.

True, she didn't look like a typical mechanic! A beautiful girl, long red hair, blue eyes, slim figure with strongly distinctive breasts, healthy, painted nails. More suited to a beauty salon or massage parlor, right? Optionally, maybe to the hostess in the car dealership. However, she dreamed of something completely different. She has been stealing keys and screwdrivers since was a child to tinker with grandfather's shed. Father wasn't always happy, because she often made a lot of a mess putting things down, but in the end she put it together and cleaned it up! He wasn't surprised at all when she announced that was going to be an engineer. For this occasion, he bought her own brand new toolbox along with a dream electric impact wrench for changing wheels. Was the only girl in the year, one of the few to pass and the only one with honors. She thought that with such papers, getting a job in the largest car factory was a piece of cake! Badly wrong. The owner looked at her CV and all the documentation from her studies with appreciation, but the project she had been working on for months hadn't even opened. After all, "women don't know much about cars"! He offered the position of a saleswoman, at which she, indignant, gathered her things and left without a word, slamming the door. Returning home, she strayed from the road to sit on the slope overlooking the city and think what to do next. The crazy idea came to her as soon as she turned head at the soothing sound of trees. She saw a shanty, an absolute pile of real estate misfortune...and felt immediately that must have it. She begged father for a solid start-up loan, promising to pay him back soon. In the meantime, she got a part-time job in a yoga studio as an instructor. It was worth making a few papers! In the end, it turned out as she wanted. The only thing missing was finishing the building to fully breathe. Until then, she took every order that appeared, unless the client turned out to be an exceptional rude.

She said goodbye to the woman whose tires were replaced and checked the toe-in, and, finding a temporary break, decided to put her own car on the canal. It would be appropriate to change the oil. Unscrewed the relevant parts, replacing the large bucket beforehand, and let the old fluid drain gently.

- Hello, is anyone here? - heard a call from the vicinity of the entrance to the workshop.

- I'm coming! - shouted back, coming down from the ladder.

She climbed the stairs from under the vehicle. On the doorstep was a tall man with blond hair combed in a pompadour style, wearing a purple jumpsuit and black tabi shoes. His face thinned a bit at the sight of her, but he showed some interest. Frequent reaction from men, used to.

- Heard I find a great mechanic here... - he muttered, definitely trying not to look at her breasts.

- Yes, what's the problem? - she asked, smiling radiantly. - I don't know if I'm SO great, but I'll try to help.

- That's...you, lady? - he stuttered.

- Yes. Soga Shizuka*, owner and only mechanic in this workshop. - she laughed. - You probably didn't expect it, that's understandable.

- Absolutely...er... - he replied confused, then pointed at the vehicle. - My bike is broken and the mechanic who usually fixes it doesn't have time.

- Kawasaki Chopper, EN500? Classic... - she muttered, walking to the machine. - Let's see what's wrong with him...

She reached for the keys he was giving to fire up. It had a problem at the start, but took a closer look as soon as the revs stabilized relatively. She took off a large gauntlet, revealing a tiny hand with long fingers, tipped with turquoise nail polish. Touched the bonnet.

- Behaves as if one of the cylinders has resistance. In addition, something is wrong in the ignition system. - she assessed. - I can arrange it, but won't be ready until tonight.

- And I will not be a problem waiting here? Came quite a long way... - He laughed a little and shook his head a bit. - After all, didn't even introduce myself. Shiba Chiharu.

- Nice to meet you, Shiba-san. Of course it wouldn't be a problem.

>>><<<

He drove through the city, along with several people from the gang when he heard disturbing sounds coming from the engine. They stopped in the parking lot they passed, to check where the problem was. It wasn't looking good. He pushed hair back nervously, sighing heavily, then stuffed hands into the pockets of purple jumpsuit.

- Engine, boss. - one of his subordinates said.

- It turns out... - Chiharu muttered, dialing the mechanic's number. - Do you have time to repair? My bike broke down! Fuck, just today...Okay...

- And what?

- No way. - he grunted nervously.

- Shiba-san... - Suzumoto, the bald guy, interjected. - I hear there's a great mechanic just outside Setagaya. It is not far!

He decided to check, he had nothing to lose, maybe only time. He got on the bike, trying to reach the place as quickly and safely as possible. Before he left, a few more people from the gang spoke up - they heard something, someone recommended it, nothing specific, no precise information, but at least they drew him what to look for. A partially renovated shack on the hill. In fact, the building turned out not to be of the first youth. In places it looked like was falling apart, but on the other hand it was obvious that someone had taken care of it. The walls were reinforced, windows replaced, everything painted with fresh paint... He stopped in front of the entrance and quite hesitantly got off the bike. There was a neat Mazda 6 hatchback on the canal, all silver with a delicate spoiler on the back. The interior looked promising. He had been to many workshops, most of them looked alike, and this one hadn't missed anything either, but it had something that made him ready to trust the people working in here. The problem was, he couldn't see anyone.

- Hello, is anyone here? - he called deeper into the building.

- I'm coming! - he heard a resonant voice coming from under the car.

He was surprised, it sounded like a slightly melancholic girl, not a mechanic. Completely stunned, seeing a woman approaching him. Medium height, fiery red hair tied in a ponytail, a pink t-shirt that definitely ends under the ribs, a little loose overalls with a drooping one harness and large pockets. Despite the heavily built-up work boots and sizeable gloves, he could see that she moved lightly and gracefully. She looked up at him playfully with sparkling blue eyes. The most noticeable, however, was the bulging bust that is hard to find in most slim girls. She smiled friendly, and his voice stuck in his throat.

- I... heard that I will find a great mechanic here... - he finally choked out.

- Yes, what's the problem? - she asked. - I don't know if I'm SO great, but I'll try to help.

He expected to hear "I'm calling" or "dad / brother will be here soon", and she looked like she was speaking deadly seriously. It was hard to pick up and not look at the tight pink blouse at the same time. He swallowed hard.

- That's...you, lady? - he stuttered.

- Yes. Soga Shizuka, owner and only mechanic in this workshop. - she laughed charmingly. - You probably didn't expect it, that's understandable.

- Absolutely...er... - he replied, remembering what he had come for. - My bike is broken and the mechanic who usually fixes it doesn't have time.

- Kawasaki Chopper, EN500? Classic... - she muttered, walking to the machine. - Let's see what's wrong with him...

He hurriedly fished the keys from his pocket and handed it to the girl. She took them gently, then skilfully started the engine. He watched as she watched the operation of the machine with solemnity and great calm. Shiba was in shock! The woman who unmistakably recognized the bike! She had to know at least a little bit. Took off the glove, under which she hid a delicate hand with long nails painted shiny with varnish. He wasn't sure if he could see any tiny patterns on them. The time of the verdict has come.

- Behaves as if one of the cylinders has resistance. In addition, something is wrong in the ignition system. - she assessed. - I can arrange it, but won't be ready until tonight.

- And I will not be a problem waiting here? Drove quite a long way... - he laughed nervously, finally reflecting. - After all, I didn't even introduce myself. Shiba Chiharu.

- Nice to meet you, Shiba-san. Of course it wouldn't be a problem.

She offered a comfortable couch in the office, but he preferred to watch her at work, so reached for a nearby chair. By the way, he was ready to help if she needed a little male support. Only noticed that quiet music was oozing from the speakers somewhere in the background. He was surprised that she took as a male profession. Nevertheless, the rumors of the city were true - she knew her job, skilfully disassembled the engine to look at the cylinders, and even checked a few other things that raised her doubts. Did everything with a smile on her face, as if she were having a great time. He was very impressed.

- This is quite an unusual job for a woman. - he said finally to break the silence. - Aren't you hard sometimes?

- Everyone asks me that! - she laughed heartily, tightening the bolts. - I loved DIY since I was a child, it was destiny. And that's it!

She straightened up after the final shutdown of the engine, brushed some invisible dust off her pants, and looked at him expectantly, keys in hand. He abruptly rose from his chair, knocking it over, and she chuckled at it, covering mouth with glove. He blushed up to ears as he picked up the item being served. Fired up the engine - it fired much faster than before and purred like a kitten. The sound pampered his ears, and the pleasant vibrations made him want a long ride.

- I do not know how it got there, but under one of the cylinders I found a small pebble, was so noisy, scratched the center a little. - she explained. - Lubricated as much as I could, tightened a few other parts, replaced a few gaskets... It shouldn't be a problem anymore.

- Gosh... It's better than ever! - he sighed happily.

- Bought used, right? - she asked, winking.

- How do you know?

- They don't make such motors anymore. Plus, it has a pretty old looking dent on the side, as if someone was putting off action movie chase scenes and driving under a truck! - she laughed. - If you want, you can replace it, just have to order the right part, probably also recovered, but it's worth having your mechanic check the market.

- What if...if I wanted to ask you for a replacement? - he asked uncertainly.

- Just phone. - she replied, taking a tasteful business card from her pants pocket. - We will agree a date as soon as I find a good item.

They settled the bill, and then he drove away toward the setting sun. Felt strange, insecure. As if he didn't want to leave. The somewhat repulsive place contained a very interesting person with a lot of experience and heart for what she was doing. He smirked at the mention of the red pony, then gasped.

He was sitting at home with a mug of coffee, turning his fingers over a business card decorated with a heavily simplified lotus flower pattern cut at the edge. It had been hard for him to focus on anything for several days. Every time he closed his eyes, could see red hair and a smear of grease on her pale cheek. It absolutely didn't bother him, it only added to her charm. It contrasted with an almost milky complexion and ruby lips. It was supposed to be a normal repair, and he was acting like a young man in love! He reached for the phone, tapped one by one numbers on the screen, and after a while he was waiting impatiently for the connection.

- Yes? - he heard after a few beeps.

- Soga-san? This is Chiharu Shiba... - he began.

- Oh, yes, I remember! - she laughed. - You caught me having a lazy Saturday breakfast.

- Oh, sorry...

- No problem. Are you probably calling about parts? - she asked, clearly tapping her long fingernails on the computer keyboard. - Let's see... Yeah... quite a lot of options, but most of them are corroded crap. Oh, I think I found the right one, in good shape. At second hand. Is that fine for you?

- Of course! - he said quickly, surprised. - Could I have a brief message when it comes to you?

- Yes, I'll let you know. - she replied heartily, and he could almost see her smiling.

- So... see you...

- See you soon!

She hung up. Chiharu was still holding the phone to his ear, listening to his own heart beat against his ribs.

>>><<<

As she thought, it arrived very quickly. She also expected the sweet blonde to be pleased with such a quick solution. As soon as she checked the courier, pulled out her phone to text about the package. Thought. She always liked the fair-haired boys, despite the fact that in Japan they appeared as dyed ones. She bit her lip slightly at the thought of how long hadn't been in a relationship with anyone. The last man in her life was Fubuki's father - already thought she found the right one, and when he heard about her pregnancy, said that it was probably not now, it wasn't that... She didn't even regret it, in the end there was nothing. Since then, Shizuka had used male genitalia at night weekend parties rather than looking for someone on a permanent basis.She was disturbed by the roar of a motorbike standing in front of the open garage door. Peeked out from a tiny office with a barely double sofa, a desk with a laptop, and a tiny electric kettle on the windowsill of the last old, slightly crumbling window. He got off the machine, almost falling off it, through a large bouquet of beautiful tea roses in his hands.

- What beautiful flowers! Are you going to your fiancée? - she asked with a smile.

- Oh no, it's for you, Miss... - he muttered a bit confused, lovingly hiding the blush behind the petals. - I didn't think a woman could be such a great mechanic.

- So let's not judge by appearances. - She sighed slightly, picking up the bouquet being served, then headed towards the canteen with the couch.

- In this carton against the wall there is an ordered part. Please check that everything is ok.

She found a tall vase hidden under the desk to quickly pour water into it and spread beautiful flowers inside. An intoxicating scent spread across the room. It was perfect, she loved roses. She left just as the blonde was taking the ordered part out of the bubble wrap.

- Come on, even the color is right! - she laughed sharply. - Should fit...

She was interrupted by the roar of the engine of a sports car with furious red paint. A broad-shouldered guy got out of it, that she wondered how he'd fit behind the wheel. He ruffled his neatly combed blond hair, glistening with blue eyes, Shizuka saw him once... Gaijin**. You could see it right away. He looked like he was bathing in money, but she wondered if it was some kind of cover. She was sensitive to "the rich", because it often turned out that the matter was sewn with thick threads. He approached them, treading firmly with his heavy boots. Despite her suspicions, she smiled as used to greet a potential client.

- I'm looking for the owner... - he muttered, barely glancing at her. - ...of this place.

- Yes, can I help you? - she replied calmly.

- I need an oil change now, the engine is working poorly, there was no time before. - he blurted out hard.

- I'm busy at the moment, you'd have to wait about an hour.

- We don't understand each other, Miss. - he grunted, approaching her. - NOW.

Bull's-eye. The more nervous he got, the more European accent she felt. Hanabi would probably recognize immediately what country the guy comes from. She wasn't in the habit of allowing such treatment in her garage.

- Well, well, buddy, with respect to the woman! - Threw blonde in purple overalls, standing a step in front of her, looking at the newcomer sideways. - Someone lacked culture!

She smiled under her breath. Didn't think he would react like that. Shiba-san was really cute! She approached them, wanting to cool down what the owner of the car intended to use. She caught a hand rushing to her neckline in flight, deftly twisting it, thus turning the man with back to her. He couldn't move, surprised and grounded by his own body.

- I'm sorry, but we are unlikely to get along. - she sighed, leading him out the gate. - Goodbye, you will surely find another mechanic.

She pushed the bulky guy twice her size firmly towards the lush red car. He turned to face her, and she honored him with a hearty smile with a hint of triumph.

- We'll see... - he snapped at her.

She wasn't going to hear what supposed to see. Pulled the lever, lowering the tin door of the workshop with a crack. Darkness fell, rays falling through the windows. She distracted it by turning on the lamps hanging from the ceiling. Sighed heavily as she straightened her voluminous pants.

- Are you okay, Shizuka-chan? - The blond asked agitated, and when he registered what said, he blushed to the tops of his ears.

- All right! - she laughed heartily. - Chiharu-kun...

For a moment he looked as if he hadn't heard, but it was enough for him to burst out laughing too. She pulled on massive leather gloves over slender fingers adorned with turquoise lacquer. Time to replace a few parts!

>>><<<

The bike looked better than after a major renovation, which it received right after the purchase. He wanted it to have its own individual character, to show that it was HIS machine. After all, the Tokkutai gang boss has to present himself! That day, they were betting on the building where Hanayama was making a deal. He hadn't asked for anything for a long time, this time it looked like he wanted to use the size of a gang of motorcyclists to block the nearest streets. The only one left, where Shiba and his most faithful companions stood, at the very entrance to the building. The biggest bull of the underworld should have a suitable road and it was he who decided to guard it. He watched the neighborhood proudly as a gleaming turquoise and black racer sprang out around a bend and onto the exact street. He had seen them, Shiba was sure, and yet motorbike didn't slow down. Shiba wasn't going to dodge, even if he was going to die. The driver in the black suit screeched to a halt and the rear wheel squealed wildly and parked parallelly just below his feet. It boiled in the man. You have to be the last idiot to put on a circus like this!

- Who gave you your driving license?! - he snapped at the motorcyclist. - Watch your ride, dude!

- Gee... I'm sorry... - he heard a rather high voice, muffled with a helmet. - Next time I'll be careful.

Confused, he watched as a storm of loose red hair fell out from under removable hat, framing a pretty face with sparkling blue eyes. He was incredulous, though trying to juxtapose the woman in front of him and the one with the lush pony...he was getting the same person! Had to recover, he was among his people!

- S...Shizuka-chan? - he finally gasped out.

- Oh, you didn't think I was running all day in baggy overalls with a socket wrench in hand, Chiharu-kun! - She laughed pearly, then asked a bit more seriously, puffing lips a little bit and looking from under her almost closed eyelids. - Are you going to stay here a little longer? I cannot take a helmet with me, and it is extremely important to me! I would like to leave him under loving care...of course not for free.

- Er, sure, it will be safe with me! - He blurted out immediately, combing his mane back.

- Oh, that's wonderful! - she threw happy.

Shizuka gave him an exceptionally light, well-built and very aerodynamic helmet, only to reach the zipper at the neck after a while. She was going to undress?! On the street?! Before he could react, heard the clink of teeth. She unbuttoned the jumpsuit to the ankle and emerged from it in a lovely, beige dress speckled with tiny flowers, decorated with a cross tied, imitating a corset. Even motorcycle boots, as it turned out, strongly built-up for a reason, hid semi-transparent high-heeled shoes tied with a tulle ribbon. She lifted the speedseat's seat, where she stowed her purse to tuck the suit into the empty space. She surprised him more and more every moment. She slung the leather strap on shoulder, waving so sweetly at them it almost melted with joy.

- Bye, shopping is waiting!

She walked away briskly, tapping heels and rocking hips rhythmically, incredibly sexy. All she left behind was a cloud of rose perfume, which had just been rising from her neck. He swallowed mechanically.

- Boss...how does the boss know such a beauty? - Suzumoto asked.

- This...this is my new mechanic. - stunned, he muttered in response.

>>><<<

She promised them a weekend shopping trip and kept her word. Happily watched the two dark-haired little angels rummaging between the hangers. A third cherub, red like her, clung to her skirt. Fubuki was like this from birth. She fondly remembered that birth. The little one clung to her at once and wouldn't let go, greedily sucking on her breast. The midwives laughed that the boys are usually "mommy's tits", and here is such a surprise. After shopping, they sat down by the fountain to let the kids play on the small playground in the middle of the mall. She watched the joyful girls, cooperating on the ladders. Their lives often lacked this carefree, so whenever she could, wanted to offer it to them in the highest possible dose.

- Shizuka-chan? We've been seeing a lot lately! - she heard a familiar voice.

A tall man with blond hair combed in pompadour style stood in front of her, this time in a slightly less "gangster" outfit - he chose elegant shoes, dark jeans and a flowery shirt.

- Oh, I guess it is, Chiharu-kun. - she replied with a smile.

She felt a tug of trailing fabric against her lap. The tiny redhead cast a curious glance at the standing man, at the same time demanding her attention.

- Can I get ice cream? - she whispered. - I can?

- Of course, honey. - She replied, handing the banknote to the running older girl. - Just not too much, or your throats will be sore.

She watched them run off to a nearby ice cream shop. Fubuki jumped to pick a flavor while the other two tried to lift her up to see anything.

- Ms. mechanic is a baby-sitter? - Shiba asked, sitting down next to her.

- No no, these three cuties are my daughters. - Threw with a radiant smile.

She saw that surprise on his face a lot, from the beginning, in fact. Could it be that incredible? Is it really so strange that a single mother of three has her own business? Who knows, maybe...

- I must have slightly disturbed your view of me? - she whispered aggressively, still smiling, leaning in slightly. - Maybe you even think I'm slutty and irresponsible? If you want, you can think so. I've always wanted a bunch of kids. I was looking for good stud dogs and found them...and that they were irresponsible assholes was another matter.

- Girls don't have a father?

- No. "I got" chromosomes from two, but I wouldn't call any of them the father of the children. - she answered innocently. - If a man capable of being my partner comes across, I will introduce him to them.

- What if you don't find it or he'll be scared of the kids?

- Hmm...nothing special. - Shizuka threw after a moment of reflection. - I don't need a man to function, I'm a strong and resourceful woman. The only husband I can consider is support, not the master of the house. If he's scared of my kids, then he's inappropriate.

The girls finally managed to buy delicacies, they sat at the table licking sweet balls. She didn't want them to get hurt. The man they call their father must have been a good man. Another was out of the question. Hyo***, Arashi**** and Fubuki***** were worth the effort.

>>><<<

The sight of his sister-in-law somehow could not leave him, despite the fact that he and his wife were sitting on the leather sofa at home for a long time, sipping slowly non-alcoholic wine. If not for Hanabi, he would not have been persuaded to take this type of drink - red whiskey is a love he didn't talk about...or maybe it just entered the blood and that's it? The red liquid with an extremely fruity aroma tasted completely different, certainly even in the full version it had significantly less percentages than the Wild Turkey. She snuggled against his shoulder as she always did when they had a moment to themselves. He stroked the shaved part of her head with free hand, playing with the single strands that wanted to fall on her forehead. She had already taken off her tie and loosened the collar of red shirt enough to let him see a subtle foretaste of what was hidden under it.

- You called your sister, right? - he asked finally.

- Yes of course. I talked to her shortly after you showed me this "miracle on wheels" - she replied bluntly.

- How is she like?

- How do you feel about her, Kaoru? - She answered the question with a question, looking at him searchingly.

He thought. Didn't really have much to say on that point. Only saw her a few times, they didn't talk often. What could he think of her?

- Seems to be a typical woman, who loves shopping and spending money on herself. - he said, shrugging his shoulders.

- Shizuka has always been quite...phlegmatic, and positive about life. - she laughed. - She looks cute, trendy, but loved to rummage in machines since she was a child, took everything she could apart and folded. Father didn't quite like her adoration because she was making a lot of a mess around her. Mother preferred her to paint her nails instead of playing with grease...

- And Grandpa? - he hinted, remembering the strange old man.

- Grandpa saw a specific potential in her. He trained us in harmony with the circle of life, according to the corresponding elements. I am air, she is water. The...hmm...streamlined fighting styles fit her perfectly.

- Interesting theory.

- Right? Until now, I don't know how he thought it up and fitted it, but it worked! - she replied. - In fact, Shizuka is a pacifist, she doesn't like any kind of violence. "Peace & Love" and these matters. It is enough, however, to properly get her under skin to dig up everything she learned and effectively pacify the opponent.

He tried to imagine such conditions. It didn't fit the offensive version in any way. She was too sweet, delicate and so...maximally stereotypically feminine. He felt a small hand creep under the unbuttoned button of his purple shirt, to his taut shoulder to gently massage it. She wasn't going to let him drift in that direction...

>>><<<

She threw the skirt of a colorful summer dress, turning to the mirror to check the tying of the braid with a woven ribbon wrapped around her head. She finally had time for her weekend getaway. She was going to wander slowly through the drugstores, leafing through nail polishes and fancy bath accessories. Maybe she will find a nice, aromatic sparkling ball? What if a jeweler...? It makes sense to add something new to the casket from time to time. She listened to the cheerful clatter of her own sandals on a high post when she noticed a pair coming from around the corner. He was in a perfectly cut white suit and purple shirt, with raven hair scattered by the wind, she was dressed in light shorts with a row of buttons at each pocket, a coral elegant blouse, with her feet in simple wedge sandals in front of her. Black locks flew slightly against the face. She did not expect to meet sister and her husband! His people were hanging around nearby, as well as...a familiar blond man in purple jumpsuit. She wondered if it was a faux pas if they found out they knew each other.

- Come on, a twist of fate, Hanabi-chan! - she chirped.

- Shopping? - asked the younger one.

- Like every month!

A strong arm caught her in half, and then another, placing massive hand over intricately woven braids prevented her from unfolding the sentence. The touch felt strangely familiar. She hadn't had much contact with it, but the rough, thick skin was like someone she had dealt with recently. She had a glimpse of the corner of her eye as he brought his head close to her shoulder. Apparently he was more interested in her brother-in-law than in her. Blond, fair-eyed, proud expression on his face. She saw Shiba standing behind the young boss's back clenching his fists nervously, bristling all over his body. He also recognized the "owner" of the red sports car. Gaijin.

- I felt like you knew each other...Hanayama... - he muttered, then laughed lowly. - The cutie is going to pay for the last treatment you treated me?

- ...what?... - Hanabi muttered, looking at her husband.

- I didn't accept his challenge a long time ago. - the man replied, unbuttoning the buttons on his jacket.

- And the percentages are rising. - drawled her tormentor, tightening his fingers a bit on the red hair. - It would be a pity to break her neck, she's pretty...

- Sorry, it doesn't seem like a good idea. - she demanded, turning her eyes towards him.

- It's not up to you. - he growled, tilting her head closer to the shoulder.

- Oh, if you say so... - she sighed disapprovingly.

She took a deep breath, then let all the air out of her lungs to compress her body as much as possible, and slip out of iron embrace. The man with a European accent stood completely taken aback. She brushed off her dress gently, then launched a solid roundhouse kick right into the center of his face. He took the full force of the blow, twisted a few dumbbells on the sidewalk, and finally lay flat on his back. She turned and caught the startled glances of the men behind her and her sister's thumbs up.

- Nice! - Hanabi said triumphantly.

- Oh, gentlemen, I am not whipped! Don't mess with the Soga family. - The redhead laughed, and then turned to the slowly rising blonde. - You underestimated your opponent, little boy.

He was staring at her, definitely pissed and eager to retaliate, but a dull crunch of Hanayama's knuckles was enough for him to let go and run down the alley. Shocked, Chiharu stepped forward, apparently wondering what to say. Black-haired girl sensed the situation in flight. She pulled her husband and his men away, waving her goodbye. Shizuka laughed under her breath at the sight. It was amazing how easily Hanabi could get along with a guy like Hanayama.

- Er...Shizuka-chan... - the blond man standing next to her began.

- Yes?

- Would you like to come out to dinner with me? - he asked, blushing slightly. - I know a place where they prepare the best Peking duck.

- Unfortunately it's not good idea... - She replied a bit confused.

- Oh...sure, I understand. You probably don't have time...or something...

- No, no, that's not it! - she laughed. - I just don't eat meat, I'm a vegetarian! But I love tofu ramen!

- Well...let it be ramen! - The man laughed, gallantly letting her go ahead.

______________________

Tenko Kitsune - http://yokai.com/tenko/ ; mine Tenko is dark-blue only because of element (water) which I want her to have;

*Shizuka - [jap.] calm

** gaijin - [ jap.] foreigner

***Hyo - [jap.] hail

****Arashi - [jap.] tempest

*****Fubuki - [jap.] snowstorm

[chiefyakousdilftits]

I told you that I was doing all of the NDA detectives at the very least. 💋

✨ Fubuki As A Mom Headcannons !! ✨

✨ Girl is still very forgetful, not forgetful to the point of forgetting her kid at the store or anything, but forgetful enough to not pack a lunch or to forget that there were piano lessons that day - luckily, she always tries to set reminders, and has definitely brought fast food to school before.

✨ Loves dressing her kiddo up, curates the most perfect outfits to take a million pictures in, sets up those monthly photo shoots to the nines, very much aims for the aesthetic.

✨ Wants to enroll her kiddo in as many extra curricular activities as they wanna be in, from instrument lessons, to dance classes, to art clubs - as long as her kid is happy doing something they love, then she feels so accomplished. She missed out on a lot, and she wants to give her kid plenty of room to socialize, unlike she had.

✨ So openly emotional towards her kid, lots of affection - like you know she loves hem with all her heart by how affectionate she is with them.

✨ Shopping dates !! Fubuki will take her kiddo out shopping and they will do those in the mall fashion montages when they’re together, they might have trouble closing the trunk when they leave . . . so many bags.

✨ Probably dislikes the baby stage the most, since there’s not really much you can do with a baby. Don’t get her wrong, that’s still her kid, but like, when she’s able to really bond with them on a deeper and personal level, she is so excited - but it makes her realize that kids grow up so, so fast. :’))

✨ Might be a little hands off when it comes to parenting, but she kinda didn’t really have hands on parents herself, so being maternal - as excited as she is to be a mom - doesn’t really come naturally to her. She’s not really a bad mom, but she isn’t perfect by any means, like one of those moms who acts more like a bestie than a mom sometimes.

✨ But you can tell she loves her kid in the ways she knows how to, she never, ever stops talking about them when prompted, and she loves to talk about the grand achievements in her kids’ life, even if it’s not the most conventional aspirations her child may have.

✨ Headcannon / Lopverse Kiddo ; Naomi Thunderbolt - Clockford 💕

[yakool-foolio]

see maybe this is just me, but As A Character Designer Myself i think the rain code designs are some of komatzuzaki's best work yet. they're weird and campy and yet they work so well. i do think the characters' personalities shine through on first and second glances. I don't even usually like neon colors but I think the combo of bright neons with understated neutrals is so fascinating and memorable. no one else does it like this. a lot of the small details on the designs are actually packed with symbolic meaning (esp. yakou's - I'd love to see you unpack all that) and the overabundance of logos is evocative of the corpo-cyber-future setting. the rain code designs feel much more cohesive in terms of that setting than the DR designs do - which makes sense bc DR is more about disparate people being united by their circumstances - dialed to 11 in v3 where the designs are at their wackiest. but this ain't about her this is about rain code.

I love that characters you wouldn't expect (zange, fubuki, priest...) have weird facial piercings and tattoos. I love that the animal ears are never explained. I love desuhiko's tboy swag and yeah, the golden yellow and the dirty blonde and the neon yellow accents don't look great together - and I think the clashing colors work wonders to establish his personality. this kid dressed himself and thought it would make him look cool. you idiot. aphex's hat is stupid. zilch's ears are stupid. vivia's bandages-instead-of-clothes are stupid - and yet reading into that choice is very insightful. (he puts on a lazy air but if he was really lazy he'd just put on an oversized emo band tee instead of wrapping himself up like a mummy every day. he actually does care about how he comes across to people.)

there's a few videos about fashion YouTubers judging the DR fits, and at one point they brought in Yuma and shinigami and they hated yuma's outfit so much because it's dorky and they wouldn't wear it. but like!!! that's the whole point is that it's dorky!!!! his little trainee shorts. his stupid fkin bowl cut making him look like a little boy whose mom still cuts his hair. (which of course turns out to be a meaningful deception. his haircut influences how the audience and other characters see him to great effect.) and yet he has the coolest fkin shoes ever and when he puts his hat and cape on he's got such an iconic silhouette. teru teru bozu lookin ass /pos.

anyway yeah. i wasnt a fan of komatzuzaki's designs in the beginning but over the years ive come around. I'm a firm designer that a character design doesn't necessarily have to look good to be a good character design. I like it when they aren't afraid to make the characters look cringe - I love cringe. I eat it up. thanks for coming to my Ted talk.

Even more perspectives! I think your take of 'bad-looking designs can be good actually' is a great way to look at Rain Code's characters. To put it simply, it's unique! 'Nobody does it like Komatsuzaki'-kind of campiness. Honestly, Rain Code's designs remind me a lot of Danganronpa 2's designs in terms of color. That cast is full of much brighter colors compared to the lesser saturation of DR1 n V3's cast colors. And it makes sense cause it's a brighter game overall in terms of setting and upping the ridiculousness of the killing game in every way! Rain Code sorta follows that with its own designs by crankin' up the neons to really ride the idea home that this game is wacky right from the get-go and it's a Resident Evil game in disguise! And y'know what Resident Evil loves to indulge in? Campiness! Rain Code wears its inspirations on its sleeve, and that's totally chill.

As a sidenote to your sidenote regarding Yakou's clothing details, I have actually written a bit about how he might perceive them, but I haven't yet written about what they could truly mean in terms of how they relate to him narratively. The meaning of the phoenix patterns are painfully obvious though heh. And I also greatly appreciate the recognition that Vivia really does care about his appearance despite his 'laziness'. His hedonistic lifestyle includes his own attire, wearing whatever he pleases no matter the effort! Like I've preached before, Vivia has the energy, he just prefers to use it only when necessary.

Thank you for the TED talk *golf claps*

[mediocredoots]

i was tagged by: @selkymaiden thank you chu~

i tag: @swordmaid @flowerzages @rruhos7 @asuraid @saiikavon @hopefulstarfire or @ anyone who wants to can steal it from me.

OC TAG GAME

✨ favorite oc ✨

This one's hard to answer because I have favorites for different reasons but not all of them good. Like Akira is a favorite because he's genuinely messed up in the head and everything he does is a product of that missing link he has. Haru however is my favorite because I love to draw him in his god mode and use pinks & other bright colors.

runner up: Ren, Mitsuki, Cassian, Maya, Alistar, Huang fu

⏳ oldest oc ⏳

I think Haru is my oldest oc out of all of my 237484934 million ocs. He was originally a girl and was a sailor moon oc lol. Over the years I separated him from that world and made him a new one but he's clearly got a lot of magical girl inspo that mostly pull not only from sailor moon but cutey honey too.

❣️newest oc❣️

Technically my little Minotaur girl is the newest OC of mine but since I haven't really thought of her much or fleshed her out it would actually be Amir. I don't know a whole lot about werewolf lore but I thought it'd be interesting to have a black werewolf pack/friend group in the rpc I was in.

runner up: Callahan, Hua Liang, Ying Tao, Theo

💥 meanest oc 💥

Depends on what we consider mean. Vince, Ren, Kaze, Axel and many more are mean sometimes even without being provoked. Like very rude and dickish. But on terms on who's the meanest cuz their morality differs it would probably be Lucien. He'll happily screw someone over with a smile on his face even if it ruins their life.

runner up: Hua Liang, Alistar, Roxanne

💘 softest oc 💘

Haru again! lol he is just a very positive ball of light literally and figuratively. He's very kind & patient who always sees the good in everyone. He's the type of guy you'd feel comfortable around because he'd make it a safe space.

runner up: Victoria, Maya

☢️ most aloof/standoffish ☢️

Probably Alistar. He is a very no nonsense kind of guy but he does have a minuscule sense of humor in him it's just super dry. He has a resting bitch face that repels most people away and he likes it that way. He speaks pretty coldly, direct, one word sentences to get his point across.

runner up: Kagami, Fubuki, Akira when he's not "performing", Helios, Tenjou

🎉 dumbest oc 🎉

Toss up between Ren and Flynn. Rocks for brains. One's an ex yakuza heir the other is a werewolf that was turned from a bite yet both of them would eat raw chicken because they don't know how to cook it.

runner up: Kaze, Ying Tao

✔️ smartest oc ✔️

Akira all the way. I'm just too much of a dumbass to write him. He's supposed to be very calculating, conniving, and know all there is about human/criminal psychology since it's what he went to school for to learn why he was the way he is.

runner up: Tenjou, Hua Liang, Victoria, Mitsuki, Vincent, Kagami

👼 ocs i’d be friends with 👼

Oh man I would love to be friends with Amir. He'd be so goddamn fun and chill to be with. We could road trip together in his van and just be one with nature. The only bad thing is having to make sure to stay far far FAR away from him every month of the full moon lol. Other than that we'd have so much fucking fun.