#masked musings

[primalvessel]

A blood-soaked package - the haori of a member of the Bokairo Inn staff, a bloody warding scale, and a slip of parchment listing a location, a time, and a price - not an exorbitant amount, but enough to raise eyebrows.

Delivered to Maru by courier bird.

It was entirely unexpected and caught him completely by surprise but that surprise was overridden immediately by a surge of fear when he opened the package.

He recognised both personal items and even if he didn't, the owner's scent lingered on them beneath the metallic stink of blood.

They'd ripped it out of him...

Maru's hand clenched around the parchment, crinkling it. There was no way to tell who'd sent it, even if they were watching when he cast his gaze about.

It was inevitable, he'd known it all along, that someone would target the ones he was close to but it still stung. He fought to hold onto anger at their audacity rather than sink into guilt and crumpled the parchment as he took a slow, deep breath.

He would be present and he would bring the gil, but as soon as Ban was returned to him, whoever was blackmailing him wasn't going to live to do it a second time.

Pocketing the scale, he stalked away to store the haori and prepare; location, time and price burned into his mind.

[veilantares]

Dark at the End of the Tunnel

Sink into an Anglers grasp in a dream, like the undersea the Night cradles screams

Been inspired by anglerfish recently, so I'm going to try to do at few of these dark background ones back to back and see if I stumble into something new. I noticed I tend to draw characters / mechs / robots in these oneshot illustrations extremely lanky, but I wonder if I made a comic, whether I'd keep these exaggerated proportions - I'm often indecisive about how much mech vs character is in these biomechs, so I usually just don't think about it and draw what feels interesting in the moment.

This gives me a chance to lay down a meandering anecdote - many years ago as a dumb teenager, I'd stay awake every Friday evening / saturday morning till 4 am, hoping to catch my favourite developer, Digital Extremes' weekly devstream. I vividly remember during closed beta in 2012 people would introduce the game as being about futuristic space pirates zipping through corridors - the games fidelity back then was really quite different, one of the early warframes, Ember, even had her whole model redone at one point. Around 2013-2014 ish when I was most excited for these streams, I noticed the games tagline was "ninja's play free", nothing at all to do with pirates - but it was catchy, and you'd see all over in the advertising because of the parkour moves you could pull off in the game were genuinely sick.

Incidentally, both the Defiance MMO (rip) and Destiny 1 (rip) were what warframe tended to be compared to at the time, both released a little after warframes closed beta, neither of which were piratey or ninja-ey , I think probably 80% of the reason for that was that they all had both guns and abilites ... I guess they were also all live services, I don't know if they were called that back then.

Compared to Defiance and Destiny, I was puzzled at what it was about warframes identity that made the aesthetic feel "itself" - and I got my answer on one of those devstreams - the art lead at the time brought out what they called a "faction pitch bible" a one pager showing all the factions they had in the game at the time, each of them with a few lines of flavour text.

What struck me from that faction pitch was that the Tenno / warframes "cyber knight" description was nothing at all to do with pirates or ninjas, it was a third, wholly other thing, and yet by virtue of being first, it might as well have been the "true" description.

But there was another original, even more original than the "true", Warframes predecessor game, Dark Sector, was a spy thriller with biomechanical aesthetics, or perhaps a powered suit superhero series. Would this original, more original than even the initial, not be what it truly was?

I think what my takeaway was from all of these, is that first an foremost, the aesthetic is "itself" rather than any arbitrary descriptors - I enjoy this about my own pieces, that they mostly still feel like they were made by me even if I can't quite categorise them or explain myself. Perhaps I'm happy if the takeaway is "cool mech", "weird robot" or "wacky character" because maybe it's all of those things and even more!

[tinystepsforward]

[aotearoa] if you're over 30 and haven't gotten the xbb1.5 booster try to do it THIS MONTH

our piece of shit fascist moneylover government is likely cutting funding to covid vaccines for the great majority of people on july 1.

someone who has access to te whatu ora emails posted this on twitter — it hasn't hit the news yet, but others working in healthcare appear to be confirming it's quite likely, so keep that in mind. we knew a month ago that they were revisiting changes to funding as of the new budget. they're also fucking changing the way sick leave works so that part-time workers will get a hell of a lot less. this winter.

if you're under 30 like me, go ask your pharmacist anyway! mine gave it to me and my wife, and i know there are others around the country who will. ask around until you find someone who will give it to you.

we're entering the biggest covid wave since dec 2022, this government is generally destroying the ministry of health and disability funding, you deserve to do what you can to secure any modicum of protection now. it's worth a shot, pun not intended.

[babyblueetbaemonster]

This is the birth of the perfect life form, the ultimate being, Dagoth Ur!

Give him sth to wear

[fly-sky-high-bug-games]

You have an ex assassin, a (overly curious) doctor and a warrior/executioner in the same room, what do you think will happen?

(Willow joins the party! She's also a doctor! And funny enough Hitch loves to read about medicine thanks to Willow!)

[soleminisanction]

If I were put in charge of making a true-to-the-comic adaptation of the original Young Justice, I do think there's one change I'd make:

I'd ditch the "Batman has a rule against revealing secret identities" angle and instead root that subplot entirely in Tim's personal need to keep his superhero and civilian lives separate through compartmentalization. That'd make Tim's personal arc more strongly about finding a place among his friends where he feels truly comfortable being himself, gradually realizing that "Robin" and "Tim Drake" are both masks, one he wears for Bruce and the other he wears for Jack.

Initially with the rest of YJ he puts on another mask, "Rob," the leader, the responsible one, the stick-in-the-mud but the one everyone can rely on, basically his best attempt at play-acting the role he thinks Dick took in the Teen Titans. But over time he sees the others growing into themselves and becoming more genuine with each other, and he wants that, but he struggles to let himself have it because it goes against everything that kept him safe as a child, that helped him earn Robin's wings, that got him on the team in the first place.

I just think that'd fit his arc in the story a little better.

[prestonmonterey]

um um

my therian masks

why not :)

ok m going in chronolgoical order so

1.

its ugly as hell 0/10

not even my theriotype TwT (dilute calico) it just matches my tail

made it in a couple hours on my floor

i guess its alright for a first try? but its like. pretty bad

2.

kinda cute 4/10

i was outta felt so this ones just foam :P

its alright, i like the cheek floofs but the general vibe is kinda off

3.

LOOK AT THIS MAJOR IMPROVEMENT GUYS 8/10

based on ambrose bassford he/him classics (honestly see him more as a lion but im not gonna make a whole ass main for a mask im never gonna wear haha so wolf it is :P)

closeup on the charm

guys i spent so long on those spikes and ITS SO PRETTY i love this mask with all my heart

4.

made this one today 9/10 its v cool :3

im. slightly obsessed with it but i also feel like the earrings and shit could be cooler? idk

closeup on the charm (which you absolutely cannot see in the last pic TwT)

slightly less proud of this one but i think wire earrings are really cool regardless so :P

anyways im planning on maybe making a fox mask based on vincent soon, if i have time next week :) we'll see how long the hyperfixation lasts haha

(for the record my theriotype is a longhair dilute calico and i havent made a mask for that just cuz i dont have proper faux fur and i just. dont find the patterning as interesting as other animals :P)

[deadlygamemaster]

❝ welcome welcome, ladies and gentlemen. put your mask on and get ready, because tonight we are faceless. you can’t trust anybody, including your own senses. A scavenger hunt-ish competition, while diving into the mysterious world of the circue de minuit. Still not convinced you should take part? Well, the prize money is high and the goal is easy. Try to get the King of Spades, by using the cards you'll find on your way and completing the challenges. Sign your name, get your mask and throw yourself into a world of pure madness. Like the cheshire cat to Alice said: we're all mad here.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ✘ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀Dante Spades • »⠀ ⠀⠀ the face behind the mask.

⠀·⠀ secretly known as ‟ the game-master ” of the Cirque de Minuit Games.

⠀·⠀ sometimes undercover as a contestant by the name of ‟ cillian” to enjoy more of ⠀⠀the chaos caused by his own murderous games.

⠀·⠀ english or german. smalltalk or novel styled play ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ wire: @deadlygamemaster

⠀·⠀ for the whole story around Dante, the cirque de minuit and the game, ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ▽ read below

 

Dante comes from a family deeply rooted in the performing arts. His parents, siblings, and relatives all embraced roles as playwrights, acrobats, and artists. However, unlike his kin, Dante grappled with a lack of interest and arguably lacked talent when it came to the customary tasks within the Cirque de Minuit. Despite being known for his smug charisma and being hailed as "beautiful as an angel," he found himself stuck selling popcorn at one of the dining areas within the expansive circus.

However, his life took a transformative turn when he conceived an idea that would alter his fate at the circus. A game — a scavenger hunt — a challenge for those, like him, who grew weary of conventional circus spectacles. What originated as a simple game gradually burgeoned into something far more significant. The rules were easy: "Find as many cards as possible throughout the circus premises, complete the task written on the back of the card, and receive a clue in return, that brings you closer to finding the king of spades card and winning the prize fund."

As the success of the scavenger hunt unfolded, not only did the prize fund escalate, but Dante also marveled at the dedication and energy participants invested in the game. Surprised by their willingness to finish the challenges he devised on the cards, he gradually increased the difficulty, eccentricity, and even danger. Astonishingly, rather than questioning the challenges, the allure of his game extended even to the circus employes. Some were eager to assist, while others were keen to place bets on the contestants.. and since the circus was always moving around, there were no consequences if some of the contestants got hurt.

For a while, this provided enough tension and entertainment. Yet, as months passed, Dante found himself plagued by a growing sense of uninspiration. He craved for more—desiring to immerse himself in the game, to be an active participant, and share in the enjoyment firsthand.

[unironicallycringe]

dying trying not to share wips but I'm excited to finally be tackling the Demise mural/manuscript thing again that I just like, Stopped doing last year

it's uh, for the whole origin mythos of Ikana Kingdom in a style similar to the opening scroll of WW, so I'll smack that on the TMM page when it's all done whee

[missriyochuchi]

Our love is here to stay

Summary: The Torchbearer and the Flagbearer take a walk along the Seine, skipping stones before entertaining the late-night crowd with an intimate dance number from a classical Hollywood musical.

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: FLUFF. Implied sexual content. Established relationship. References to An American in Paris (1951).

Notes: I didn't intend to write another fic for these two, but this scene from An American in Paris (1951) has been haunting me since the Opening Ceremony. I couldn’t figure out how to write them dancing until I remembered the song that accompanied the scene, and then I couldn't stop writing! The lyrics fit them perfectly! This follows The Torchbearer and the Flagbearer. I strongly recommend reading it first, but if not (it's your time), only a few details carry over: the two exist only during the Olympic Games, so they die and are reborn every two years; interaction between them and humans is strictly limited; and the Flagbearer's horse is named Zeus. As with the aforementioned fic, I use gendered pronouns only to distinguish between the two; physical descriptions are not gendered. For now, I have no plans to write another fic for them, but the Olympics are just beginning, and who knows if the Muses will blow in my direction again lol

Read on AO3

Darkness floats above the Seine like mist, its shroud kept at bay by the namesake luminescence of the City of Lights. Boats bobbing on the river and open restaurants on the bank animate the otherwise dreary waterway. Beneath bulbs of varying hues, businesses bustle with the chorus of tinkling tableware, multilingual conversations, and idle music of Paris past and present. 

Sunrise approaches in an hour, but beneath one of the city’s many bridges, the Torchbearer and the Flagbearer find a sliver of solitude. 

Splash, splash, splash, splash.

“See?” The Torchbearer spins on his heel at the river’s edge, a few flat stones left in hand, to face the Flagbearer leaning against the wall. “There is nothing to it.” He extends an upturned palm in her direction, but she shakes her head.

“I do not possess the skill,” she announces to her echoes.

He cocks his head to the side and closes the distance between them. “Skills can be taught, ma chère.” He takes her hand and pulls her to the riverside, her cape billowing lightly in the breeze. He places a stone in her glove and positions her index finger along its jagged edge. “You must give it a little spin so that it does not sink upon impact on the surface of the water.”

The Torchbearer turns to face his rippling reflection. He flicks his wrist and sends a stone skipping once, twice, three, four times across the river before sinking below the surface with a light plop.

The Flagbearer mimics his motions, swinging her arm and sending her stone on a long arc to a wide splash into the water’s darkness. The Torchbearer stifles a giggle.

She shakes her head and grumbles, “Oh! I do not understand why you find this activity so amusing.”

He releases his chuckles and grabs her wrist before she can walk away with a huff. “Practice makes perfect, non? Give it one more try.”

The Flagbearer runs her hands along her partner’s biceps and strokes his ego. “You are the one gifted with physical prowess,” she says fondly, “a lightness of touch and dexterity.” She steps closer to ghost her breath over his. “If ever I need to raise an army of stone throwers, you shall be my first in command.”

The Torchbearer tilts his head back and sends his laughs to the underside of the bridge. His voice reverberates across the masonry. “Your flattery will not excuse you from this lesson, général.”

“Then I shall receive a failing grade, professeur,” she teases. “Or do you have some other, more favored form of punishment?” She sneaks a knee between his legs and presses up.

He groans and chuckles low at the contact. “Have I not satisfied your appetite for tonight, my love? I am sure the few players who heard us at the Olympic Village would—”

She silences him with a swift squeeze of his buttocks. Her gloved hands slip slowly up to the back of his waist. “Several lifetimes of nights could never quell my hunger for you and your prowess.” She presses her front to his and guides them away from the river’s edge and into the shadows.

The stones in the Torchbearer’s hand land on the pavement, their echoes filling the underpass. His hands smooth over the cool expanse of the Flagbearer’s backplate underneath her cape. “Not here, my sweet,” he whispers into the darkness beneath her hood.

“I know.”

Giggles from an approaching group of tourists break the moment. The lovers’ hands fall to each other’s elbows, their gazes fixed downward. The group grows silent as they pass the hooded figures. A woman bringing up the rear stops to turn around and hold up a smartphone.

“Excuse me, can we— oh!”

A man grabs her elbow and roughly turns her back around towards their group. “Je suis désolé,” he offers quickly. “Elle ne savait pas.” He bows low at the hip in consternation.

The Torchbearer nods in his direction. He watches and waits for the group’s footsteps to fade before turning back to the Flagbearer. Flush with embarrassment beneath her metallic hood, she looks up and crashes her chest to his, tightening her arms around his shoulders for a long embrace. His hands find the opposite sides of her waist, and his chin rests on her tiered spaulder. For a moment, the movement of their chests with every inhalation and exhalation is one and the same.

Displays of affection are not uncommon on the streets of the City of Love, and neither the gods nor any event organizers in the past expressly forbade their affair, but for the Olympic guardians damned to the global spotlight every two years, privacy is a luxury they steal at every opportunity. To be caught alone in each other’s arms felt like an insult to the few precious moments they shared outside their eternal duties.

“Come,” the Flagbearer says softly as she pushes her palms against the Torchbearer’s biceps for enough breathing room to speak. “I do not wish to spend the remainder of the night adding debris to the Seine.” She curls her hand beneath his upper arm and guides him along the riverbank.

The low sounds of whispers and camera shutters accompany the two as they gain distance from their secluded underpass. They keep their gaze forward, accustomed to the attention after years of technological advancements in photography. The few who begin to approach the hooded figures are quickly pulled back by fellow onlookers.

“Why not?”

“They’ll just ignore you and won’t say a word.”

“They were fine during the Opening Ceremony.”

“It’s forbidden.”

The crowd grows in size and sound. They congregate parallel to the riverbank, giving the mysterious duo a wide berth. Over the rising cacophony, the Torchbearer catches a familiar tune floating from somewhere above the embankment. He slows their walk and listens for the words. 

It’s very clear, our love is here to stay

Not for a year, but ever and a day

“They are playing our song, chérie.”

“Darling, not now. Daylight approaches. We must be on our way.”

The Torchbearer stops their progress and presses his palm to the Flagbearer’s fingers nestled lightly in the crook of his arm. “When was the last time we danced?” He takes her hands in both of his and swings her in a circle before positioning her left hand on his right shoulder and her right hand in his left. Their hips and foreheads meet as they start a slow circle on the open pathway.

In time, the Rockies may crumble, Gibraltar may tumble

They’re only made of clay

But our love is here to stay

“Do you remember the film?” The Torchbearer keeps his voice low enough for only the Flagbearer to hear.

She follows suit, though her breath is clipped. “I know exactly which you speak.”

“Shall we give them a show?” He squeezes her hand and quickens their turns.

“Only if you remember the steps as well as I.”

He huffs, mildly offended. “Do you doubt your partner?”

She smiles and giggles. “Never.”

They drop their arms and sway to the music, mirroring each other’s movements as they widen the space between them. The crowd on the riverbank backs away towards the wall and opens a space large enough for the two to continue. The closest onlookers move to accommodate the Flagbearer’s cape as it soars and intermittently kisses the border between performer and audience.

The dance is both timid and intimate. Their touches are perfunctory, punctuating passing sweeps across the pavement. Yet they lean their hands and heads on the other without hesitation, as if years of muscle memory and not conscious decisions dictate their proximity. Their movements tell the story of two lovers beginning to blossom in a romance they know will last for “ever and a day.” Slow and distanced steps give way to increasingly closer encounters.

“Despite this cumbersome armor, my dove,” the Torchbearer whispers during a moment when they resume the closed position and their faces are centimeters apart, “you dance beautifully. You have not lost your touch.”

“Nor you, my sweetest.”

They continue with their hands folded behind their lower backs, stepping like disparate planets inextricably circling the same center of gravity, and finish with an approximation of a kiss. They lean forward over an arm’s length of distance and bring the shadows beneath their hoods to meet for a breath of eternity. Their shoulders turn to bring an arm each around the other’s waist. They walk intertwined in their original direction as the orchestral music from above the embankment gives way to silence.

Applause and cheers chase after the duo. After a few steps, they turn around and bow to the crowd silhouetted by the embankments’ lights. They resume their promenade hand in hand.

When the murmur of surprise and adoration disappears and the Flagbearer spies no nosy onlookers within earshot, she brings the Torchbearer’s hand to her lips and kisses his knuckles. “Thank you, my love,” she breathes softly into his rough skin. She brushes the corners of her mouth across the backs of his exposed fingertips.

He turns his hand to rub her chin and catches her smile. “For what am I owed your gratitude, mon ange?”

“This world has weighed heavy on my mind since we were summoned,” she folds his hand in both of hers, “and I have forgotten what it means to remain light in such dark times. Thank you for reminding me of the power of simple pleasures.”

The Torchbearer hums to convey his contentment and, for a moment, ponders the gods’ plans in pairing them together. They had discovered, very early in their tenure, the opposing duality of their natures. He carried the torch, and she carried the flag, symbols of an event meant to unite humanity in friendly competition. While the object of his guardianship is most visible during the night, hers is most visible during the day. Together, they provide and protect constant reminders of the Olympic Spirit. Now, he realizes that such duties benefit not just the players and the spectators, but each other. He is her light, and she is his standard. He keeps them afloat, and she keeps them rooted to the Earth.

From the shadows of the bridge fast approaching their path, Zeus appears, both his coat and hoofbeat as light as snow. He advances towards his rider and nudges her cuirass with his muzzle.

The Flagbearer sighs and glides a gloved hand along the horse’s nose. “These nights pass far too quickly.”

The Torchbearer finds his opening to remain true to his duty and nature. “Tempus fugit when you are having fun — is that not what the humans say?” He takes her free hand and bows deeply, bringing his head to the level of her hips and swinging his other arm out to the side. “A testament to the quality of your company. I thank you for the compliment.” He straightens back up and presses her palm to the center of his chest, her gentle warmth meeting his steady heartbeat — his version of a kiss.

She shakes her head and laughs low in her chest, careful not to attract more attention as she hears hushed voices lingering on the embankment above them. He releases her hand and shares a knowing nod. He helps her mount Zeus, his hand trailing after the lower edge of her cape.

“Until tonight,” the Flagbearer whispers as she reaches for one more squeeze of her eternal flame’s hand.

The Torchbearer cradles her hand in both of his and tightens his grasp on her being. “Until tonight.”

Footnotes:

Translations: ma chère/chérie - my dear général - general professer - professor Je suis désolé. Elle ne savait pas. - I am sorry. She did not know. mon ange - my angel Tempus fugit (Latin) - Time flies

Is it corny af to have them reenact a scene from a movie? Sure. But are they not performers? Would they not perform to a love song in the City of Love? We've seen the Torchbearer sort of dance on that drag show catwalk - would they not be an amazing dancer!? And do the distances in the choreography not reflect the distances the two need to keep in the performance of their duties? Are you not entertained!? lolol

[primalvessel]

Anonymous said: [ Moved from the ask so as not to blast the dash with degeneracy. ]

The mask over his eyes is perfect - warm and silky, covering enough of his features that nobody will recognise him, and with draped cloth over the eye holes to act as a blindfold. The bonds holding his arms to the bedhead are soft and gentle but quite unbreakable, even as a mouth works up and down on his length. The sharp teeth scrape along his length as what should by rights be one tongue but is instead a writhing mass of tendrils lavishes his aching phallus.

As the low music fills the room, the heady smell of pipesmoke reaching his nostrils, the sound of a voice meets his ear - and makes his whole body react as if electrified.

"I must say, that is quite a specimen," a mellifluous voice says, sounding like a well-spoken Elezen of Maru's acquaintance.

"Indeed!" laughs a less refined voice, "and he seems somewhat familiar - squirming and writhing like that."

Both voices laugh, and it becomes completely clear - Aymeric and Thancred are at the very front of the audience, even as one of the tongue-tentacles snakes its way into the slit of the Miqo'te's aching length.

[theajaheira]

i wanna get back to normal socialization but i am realizing i literally never learned how to talk to people in a way that isn’t 1) multiple paragraphs about the things i am thinking about, unending or 2) desperately trying to match the other person’s energy, convinced that on some level every conversation is a puzzle game with a secret right response to every statement tossed my way, and i am repeatedly losing

[konohagakurekakashi]

You're late! This report was supposed to be handed in weeks ago!

Ah. Whoops.

Seems like old habits die hard after all. I'll be more mindful of the road of life in future.

[kourabiedes]

Carmine and Kieran Roleswap AU: Teal Mask Edition

Sweet Arceus do I have a long AU for ya, because I am Very Normal about the Kitakami siblings and definitely don't go out of my way to find new ways to mess with their heads. Long AU summary under the cut! Beware all ye who enter here, for there are Ogres afoot.

There is now an Indigo Disk continuation to this!

So the most important thing to understand before we start is that Carmine and Kieran still retain aspects of their normal personalities.  A 1:1 swap would be kinda boring (specifically, boring for me). However, their life experiences have changed here and that does give us some new juicy tidbits to explore.

Sketches provided by @funakounasoul... except for the Ogerpon sketch. I made that.

Kieran is the older sibling in this scenario.  He's still shorter than his sister, but he's now older than the player character and probably has some devilish good looks.  He's generally goodnatured, and being the older sibling and having to look out for a younger sister has balanced his personality a little bit.  He's more mentally stable and mature than his standard self.  He still has a pretty huge fondness for the ogre in the old legend, admiring its independence and strength.  The major change to his personality here is that he's not as insanely shy, since he hasn't had a big scary savage sister to hide behind all his life.

Younger sister Carmine is shy of strangers and still wary of outsiders.  Her posture visually in the Teal Mask is probably kind of stooped, like she's trying to hide how crazy tall she is.  She has a bratty, slightly spoiled attitude in this scenario, because big brother Kieran is always hovering nearby to keep her out of trouble.  She appears to be the player character's age or maybe a touch younger.  Despite the initial shyness though, she's all aggression when she feels she or her family or really any of Kitakami as she sees it is threatened.  She still dismisses Kieran's ogre obsession, but chalks it up to boys liking scary things.  (You know, cuz girls never go for that kinda thing </massive sarcasm>)

The PC would meet them both for the first time in Mossui and Kieran is welcoming while Carmine glowers at you from somewhere behind him.  Kieran's all about helping your classmate get safely to the community center and probably runs off to help, or perhaps to get the caretaker.  Maybe you battle Carmine then because she's definitely not enjoying having these tourists in her fucking town.  Whatever the scenario, Kieran and the caretaker get the rest of the Random Paldean Students safely to the community center and you get settled in.

Now, for a while, things don't change much in this scenario, except for Kieran not being super emotionally unstable.  The next day, you're being introduced to the Blueberry kids properly and Kieran immediately suggests you and he pair up.  Carmine isn't thrilled but as he points out, it's not like they can pair up together based on Briar's directions to make interschool pairs.  She sulks off to find a Paldean student to deal with.  Your character and Kieran have a friendly battle and he admires your skills.  You go find the first two signboards and follow him up to the Dreaded Den more or less the same way as in Teal Mask.  Then he invites you to the Festival of Masks and you go back to the family home.  Carmine is not overly pleased to see you still hanging around, but she's unbending a little bit since you and Kieran obviously get on so well.  They only find the two masks in the shed, Kieran tries to offer you his ogre mask, Carmine stops him, you get to the festival and do some balloon popping and maybe even beat Carmine's score.

It's Ogerpon's appearance that changes the story dramatically.  At first, you are the only one that sees her, but then Kieran comes looking for you after pacifying Carmine.  Ogerpon spooks, drops her mask, and you both have a moment of shock as you realize this is not a child, this is the damn ogre.  Then Ogerpon bolts, leaving you with the Teal Mask.  Kieran is stunned  --  the ogre was so smol!  And seemed so nonaggressive!  And holy shit this mask is beautiful, except there's a chip in the big crystal!  He's excited as hell to have one of his childhood dreams materialize before him.  He wants to go after Ogerpon, but Carmine turns up at that moment.  She has deeply internalized the ancient Kitakami legend of the Loyal Three, and when Kieran excitedly tells her you just saw the ogre, she insists it can't have been, because you and he are both not fucking dead.  She and Kieran argue for a minute, long enough that once it's over, Kieran has to reluctantly admit you'll never catch up to the ogre in the dark.  He tells you to hold onto the mask and you two can go ask his grandpa about it in the morning.  You do, and it's Kieran who is with you when you hear the story of Ogerpon.  Carmine appears at one point and is shooed off by Kieran, but overhears the majority of the story herself.  Unlike Kieran, she can't believe it  --  the heroic Loyal Three, actually villains??  Impossible!  She realizes that if Kieran believes this story, he's likely to go chasing the ogre again, and probably get himself killed, a prospect that chills her to the bone.  She ambushes you both as you leave the family home and demands that Kieran (and just Kieran, she doesn't care what YOU do) not go chasing monsters, making no effort to pretend she didn't overhear the whole damn thing.  Kieran tries to correct her, but she insists you both go have a look at the final signboard, the one that reminds everyone that the ogre murders anyone it comes across without a mask on.  You go, but discuss with Kieran how the story doesn't make any sense compared to the ogre you both saw and the story Kieran's grandpa told you.  You go back mutually determined to get Ogerpon's mask back to her after gramps fixes it. 

You go off to the community center and Kieran goes home.  Something he says at home will alert Carmine to your resolve, and that kicks off the next event.  Carmine demands you meet her at Loyalty Plaza, where she makes an impassioned plea to her brother not to be fooled into getting himself murderated.  He tries to explain that she's still got the wrong impression and she blows up on him, refusing to listen to reason (he almost certainly points out that Gramps has no reason to lie to his own grandkids, for example).  Truth is, she's afraid, afraid for his life, and that's making her act irrationally.

And then a thought occurs to her, a thought that marks a huge turning point in this scenario.  It's you.  You are making her brother act this way.  You are the reason he's doing these insane things.  She accuses you directly of manipulating her family.  Kieran protests, but she's convinced.

Now, in canon, I am convinced that the venom in Kieran's thoughts is what somehow channeled Pecharunt's energy (or some variant thereof) into the Lousy Three's grave and brought them back to life.  In this scenario, imagine the same, only it's the poison of fear which is rapidly spreading through Carmine.  Her fear is being expressed as anger, but it's still fear, and it's consuming her rapidly.  Before either sibling can argue further, the grave splits open, and the Three emerge.  No one knows quite what is happening, so no one can really react effectively as they take off to Kitakami Hall.  It's only as they're already receding into the distance that Carmine realizes they must be the Three.

You and the siblings rush to the Hall to hear the news of the Three's arrival and retrieving of the other masks before going up the mountain.  Kieran starts to rush after them, but suddenly Carmine blocks the way.  She is going to save him from himself if it's the last thing she does.  You battle her and defeat her, and the idea that you are the cause of all this etches itself that much deeper.  She has no choice but to step aside, but you can feel her furious eyes on your back as you run to save Ogerpon.

Poor little ogre is getting the shit kicked out of her and you save her, driving off the Three.  She is nervous around Kieran because he smells like a local and therefore Dangerous, but while a little hurt, he is not crushed by this.  You take her back to the town (she refuses to enter of course) and consult with Kieran's grandpa.  He promises to fix the Teal Mask for Ogerpon if you and Kieran go get a crystal from the Crystal Pool to replace the chipped one, and suggests you and Kieran go pound the shit out of the Three to get Ogerpon's other masks back.  Carmine is sulking at home and overhears the conversation.  You and Kieran go to the Pool with Ogerpon shadowing you, but Carmine blocks your way at the top, angry at Kieran too now for bringing an outsider to this sacred place.  The standoff is broken by Briar also appearing at the summit, distracting Carmine.  Kieran slips past her and you stop her from following with a battle.  Ogerpon stays near you, and her presence only serves to enrage Carmine more.  Kieran retrieves a crystal cluster during the battle and you both bolt back down the mountain to give it to Gramps, leaving Carmine fuming.  He begins to work on the mask and you turn your attention to finding the Three.

You find the Three with Kieran's help and return the shit kicking they gave Ogerpon threefold, retrieving her masks.  Ogerpon becomes more comfortable around Kieran as you go.  You return to the town only to discover Carmine stole the Teal Mask after Gramps fixed it and left Kieran a message telling him to come to the Dreaded Den.  Gramps notes that she spoke with him about the story of Ogerpon before she left and seems to be disturbed by how the ogre has acted since the whole mess began  --  Kieran guesses her good sense is starting to win out over her fear.  You go back to the Den with Kieran and Ogerpon and find Carmine there.  Kieran confronts her, finally convincing her that the story of the Loyal Three was indeed wrong, and she's been wrong about Ogerpon the whole time (probably aided by Ogerpon with her sweet lil face staring like a sad puppy at her). 

Carmine finally accepts the truth of the matter, and apologizes to him and Ogerpon.

But there's one thing she hasn't let go of.  She hasn't forgiven you.  And Kieran doesn't realize that she's still hung up on that part because, while he's a lot more emotionally stable in this scenario, he's still pretty oblivious to subtle emotional cues from other people.  When Carmine walks away from the Den, it's with a venom-filled look in your direction.  Insert Heart's If Looks Could Kill here.

Inevitably, Ogerpon wants you as her human, because you're the damn hero.  This version of Kieran is disappointed, but not shattered by this.  He's spent a lot of time over the last couple days with you and the little cutie, and he's had time to get used to the idea.  It's Ogerpon's decision where she wants to go, and he lets go of the long cherished dream with regret, but nothing worse.  He does ask to have a battle with you and her in the morning, after which Briar calls to tell you to get your asses to the community center to finish the actual school trip thingy you'd probably forgotten all about.  Kieran also tells you that Carmine has holed up in her room and won't talk to anyone.

You know more or less how this ends, with Briar yoinking the Kitakami sibs back to Unova to prepare for some globetrotting and the antagonistic sibling swearing to get stronger so they can kick your ass.  In this case it's Carmine, and boy does she hate you right now.  In the end, Kieran came to no harm, and Ogerpon was not a monster, but it doesn't really matter, because rationality went out the window for her where you're concerned a while ago.  She's going to get stronger, and she's going to hand you your ass for humiliating her so often, and she's got a great idea for making that happen...

[secondarythings]

Bomb Rush Cyberfunk

I'm replaying BRC and just go to the point in the mall where the Oldhead unlocks the area behind his speakers. Although I don't recall the exact wording, he says that he doesn't like that Felix and then Cyber were wearing the mask and that some things should be left alone.

My theory?

At some point, Felix entered Old Amsterdam and found the sarcophagus with the mask.

And then took it and put it on his face.

The upper two pics are canonical, the third one is a character model in the game's files called Kid Felix. I'm guessing he was pretty young when he discovered Old Amsterdam.

An Oldhead even remarks that New Amsterdam doesn't look much like Amsterdam. But who remembers it? Felix in his first dream sequence.

Canal, typical buildings, pretty Amsterdam-y.

There's even a tree in Old Amsterdam.

That's where Felix got his mask from.

And maybe something else?

The jetboost just looks freaky to me.

To sum up: little Felix (probably) fell and found himself in Old Amsterdam, upon which he desecrated a coffin and then wore the spoils of the crime on his face.

It's probably cursed and now DJ is cursed too.*

*that part is purely speculative. Although...

Felix wore it in the place of a jet boost and was famous for not needing one. Huh... (okay, this one really is just speculation)