#maskarella

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Darkest Magick #12: Dancing in the Diamond Theater

Just beyond the paper-thin limits of mortal perception lies a home for the fantastic and the surreal, a plane that refuses to bend to the laws of ordinary space and time. Mystified and mischievous entities freely danced and twirled, their forms presented as little more than impressionistic blobs of chaotic energy. No reasoning could be applied, no train of thought was built to last - the Nomad’s Plane was in the service of the subconscious, the thoughts that directed us in the deepest edges of our dreams, now brought into clear, unfiltered reality. From time to time, whether it be an intentional mission or an accidental trip through a rabbit hole, mortals will find themselves traversing this parallel realm. There has never been one single method of entering the Nomad’s Plane and there never will be. Entities may look upon them with wonder, just as the mortals look back with confusion. Strangers are often met with the friendlier side of the Plane - those with quite tangible forms, cohesive thoughts and familiar languages. As long as one does not stray off from the central path, the threat of imminent chaos will at least be minimized, and an unforgettable experience is highly possible. The farther one strays off the path and into the dark wilderness, the more it becomes unclear, paradoxical, surreal. Even in the Nomad’s Plane, the Diamond Theatre never had a fixed location. Typically hidden behind walls of fog at extremely late hours of the night, a confused onlooker heading to their car may squint at the enticing, distant glow of circus lights and fun music. Dancing, winding beings of swirling color spun gracefully, smiling and laughing back at the hapless stranger as they beckoned them further inside. It wasn’t the type of thing one would expect hiding behind a gas station or in an empty parking lot that hasn’t been visited in half a decade, but that is how the story always goes. Rumors of a haunted theater often got around in the places it regularly appeared - the Nowhere, USA types of areas - and like any good rumor, there were always just enough people lacking in self-preservation to seek it out. Those who ultimately do find out come back with vague, mumbling recounts. Some were gone for weeks or months or even years. Others disappeared completely and never returned, ever again. Nobody knew why. — “More passion! More ENERGY!” The stage director sat diligently in the front row, holding a clipboard as she shouted out to the dancer. Her rounded, oversized glasses hid most of the maskarella’s expressions, but like any of the others, her skin was ghostly white and adorned in some level of garish color. Pink lips matched her pink bobbing hair, along with the ridiculously large fedora. Amongst fellow denizens of the theater,  there was no such thing as looking too ridiculous, and the boldest of the bold were the most rewarded. “Strut those stockings, clown! Jiggle those jugs! Clack those heels!” Despite the monochromatic cat’s experience with being nimble and unnaturally stretchy, she was genuinely shocked at how graceful she was in these stompy, high-platformed stilettos. The spins of a ballerina were pulled with zero effort, her arms flexing in and out and above her head as she flowed across the stage, then followed it up with a series of backflips. Every clack of her heels produced an obnoxious HONK that echoed through the empty theater. And despite her comically oversized breasts being in the way constantly, the skimpy suit did a good job of keeping them in place rather than haphazardly flopping in random directions or smacking her in the face. The green aura brought Charlie’s thigh straight up to her chest, nearly parallel with her standing body. The energy was not incredibly forceful, but it was enough that she complied with its physical commands, which were clearly all extensions of the Director’s words. With a quick magick POOF, she summons a striped green clown horn, then proceeds to strategically honk at her own crotch. HONK! HONK HONK HONK!! A layer of sweat covered her chest, running down her torso, neck and arms. Her uniform was already glossy, but the perspiration brought a slight extra shine to her cursed nylons and her bodysuit. The plastered-on fake grin and her tired eyes nestled somewhere between uncanny and honest with her successful performance. She was learning fast. Charlie’s ears perked up in the direction of a quiet chuckle. She glanced over at the director with some level of contempt in her eyes, but it was the kind of contempt where she knew not to do it too much or else she would face another reprimanding. The feeling of not saying how she felt and the freedom of doing as she pleased being stripped away was painful. It was suffocating. It was worse than anything she experienced as a human, and it was the entire reason she put on the Gothic Cat suit in the first place: to feel unbound and unafraid as her insecurities dropped away. Not that it mattered anymore, anyway, as the suit elements of her transformation had been long dissolved into her actual being, so to have this happen on top of it was likely confirmation that she’d probably never see her former male Charlie Cat body, ever again, let alone the human body that predated it.  Or maybe she was overthinking it. The permanent piano-like grin etched across her face never faltered nor fell down - it was a sickening, plastic smile that betrayed every conviction in her soul, and it kept her completely dead silent except for the perpetual jingles and honks of her maskarella uniform. Maskarellas did not wear masks or uniforms to hide their real feelings. She approached the Director. “Very decent performance, clown. You did well.” Charlie bowed slightly. “We’re certainly teaching this naughty troublemaking cat a lesson, now aren’t we?” Charlie grimaced through her frozen grin, daring to furrow her brows at the Director. “A silly stretchy kitty terrorizing an innocent city with his own version of righteousness? That is deserving of some rehabilitation, don’t you think? Perhaps giving back to those you disturbed - even for a little while - might humble you?” Is everything a rhetorical question with you? The more questions she was given, the more her frustration grew. Who the hell did I disturb, bitch? I was HELPING people. Her voice was middle-aged and experienced - the cat assumed she was some type of teacher in a past life. “You can dwell on how wrong things are, clown, or you can accept what has become of your fate. We could let this go on for a week - or we could keep you forever. It hardly matters to me. The important thing is I believe you see others as being the enemy to your visions, and until you see otherwise, it’s the safest to keep you here and train you into a proper, respectable maskarella. I promise you will find no dull moments here in the Diamond Theatre.” Charlie’s fists tensed up and clenched, only for her to release her tension. Her shoulders hung and her head tipped down. The ceiling lights in the enormous auditorium illuminated her silken legs perfectly, and she didn’t bother to look away or get distracted. Of all the stupid ways to drag someone into a curse, this is what the maskarellas chose to do with him? Or rather… her. She ran a gloved hand down her thigh, pinching at the stockings as she watched the material snap back to her thigh. It’s easy to forget how much the thigh high heels simply covered so much of her legs versus how much they were now exposed. Charlie Clown expected to stop thinking about them after a few days, but her legs were such a prominent part of her outfit that it was basically impossible. They absolutely were gorgeous to look at and fit the theme of being a world-class performer. It’s not like she didn’t have experience with such a thing given how her former Gothic Cat suit functioned, but this was recontextualized into something designed to shame her… Or at least in her mind, it did. Charlie’s enjoyment of crossdressing and embracing the forbidden freedoms of the opposite gender were really put on display now that she was actually forced to become female. What felt like instruments of kink fulfillment were now just daily, ordinary things she had to wear for work, and her brain had to learn to adjust. This was all on top of being transformed into an ethereal being that did not function like a mortal creature. In a sense, the curse binding her to this maskarella form revolved exclusively around crossdressing. It also didn’t help that the size of her breasts were a constant distraction, which was categorically the worst part of the curse. She lived in fear of the Director saying “make them bigger” again in response to any kind of insult or disobedience, and they only shrunk back to a manageable size if she was on good behavior, so that’s what she did. Any amount of squeezing or slapping of her breasts would produce a cartoon-style HONK that would immediately result in everyone present to begin laughing, or at the very least, ask some pertinent questions, so she was very careful where she placed her hands while doing literally anything. In some way, it helped that people were far more drawn to the breasts and her swirling eyes than the actual cause of the curse, so she counted her blessings. The Director tapped the clipboard. “Are we ready for our next act? Remember: how you look in rehearsal is how you will look in a live show. The attitude and confidence you bring to me is what shall be brought to your loving audience. Understood?” Charlie Clown nodded. “Good. Let’s begin our next routine.” --- In a shocking turn of events, I have decided to resurrect my Darkest Magick series from the dead for CLOWN WEEK! A fun time to write about maskarellas, as well as the mystifying Nomad's Plane and the Diamond Theater. I have also decided that a familiar troublemaking rubbery cat has finally been caught and punished for the chaos he caused! And in classic maskarella fashion, it's something of an ironic punishment. How long will he stay this way? Who knows? He - or rather, she - better get used to clowning around!

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[C] Dazzle the Ballerina

Commission for Dazzle Paws!

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[C] Dazzle and Sera in Curse Suits!

Commission for CrazedGammaMan and Dazzle! Sera and Dazzle are roped into Curse's shenanigans and get some nice new "uniforms" to dance in!

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[C] Milo The Maskarella Clown!

Commission for Rev! Milo enjoying the maskarella life.

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[C] Sera the Maskarella!

Commission for CrazedGammaMan!

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[C] Luna the Maskarella

Commission for Scoorpyn!

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[C] Vulen the Maskarella

Commission for IPraiseTheSun! Vulen is still getting the hang of it.

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Curse Possession!

Oh no! Curse possessed yet another person and is using their body! Hopefully this one doesn't go on for TOO long.

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[C] Erini the Maskarella Performer!

Commission for Eirini! A maskarella performance is second to none!

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Darkest Magick #9 - The Diamond Theatre

In the realm of the Diamond Folk, Our only work is Play, But to make the world a beautiful place, We must prevent it's decay. We sing, we dance, we laugh, we cry, The Show relieves us from strife, For if we do not work for the passion in our hearts, Then what is the purpose of life? Spectators like yourself may appreciate our work, But it's little more than a view, So why not step up on our stage, And we'll show you what a Maskarella can do?

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[C] Poledancing Gabby!

Commission for Lobolito!

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MASKARELLA - Reference Sheet 2023

Maskarellas! They're weird, they're fantastical, they dance and sing and create art! They love to play and be fun and sociable, or sometimes they're hostile and unpredictable and not fun to be around, at all! What happens when you get turned into a bopper for too long? You more than likely end up as one of these folks. This is basically what Maskarellas are.

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Darkest Magick #10 - Part of the Show

Silly clown! You can't just rip off your "suit"! We have a performance rehearsal in 20 minutes! Quit fiddling around! Not unless you wanna use one, that is!

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