You never intended on letting the fake survive from the start, did you? PRESENTING THE? REKO YABUSAME...
— as an Isola-affiliated rp blog.
— as an indie-friendly multi-verse blog.
— written by Daniel.
rock n' roll b-lister. singer, songwriter, frontwoman. voice like an angel, bite like the devil. taking magazine covers and constant L's.
a hard filter for bullshit, but she's honest and reasonable otherwise. she's got a keen ear for good people.
wears the weirdest choker; she just got out of a saw-like death game, so you'll have to excuse her fashion sense. the rest of it's genuine alternative.
swears like a sailor and leaves like one too. she'll cut you off like a price tag if you give her a reason.
she doesn't trust men because of her own trauma, but she'll warm up if you give her some time.
her brother killed someone and all she got was these stupid bongos. i know, they make the subway a pain.
for all her flaws, she's only human.
be wary of your turn to die spoilers for chapter two - part one.
please read the trigger warnings for this blog before you follow, thanks!
WADING INTO THE DARK, Reko dissuades the irrational thoughts that pop into her head. In a place like this, is it possible that ghosts inhabit the underground? Stupid. Of course they don't exist, as long as she lives and... breathes.
A sigh escapes her. Her spiramonster, Samurai Wan-wan, looks up.
"We just need t'find ten of 'em, right?" she asks her companion. Truthfully, she doesn't really trust him, but no one else was willing to indulge her in her curiosity. If things go badly, she's not sure how long that curiosity will hold. "That'll be easy enough.
'And keep it down, will ya'? I don't know how much this shithole'll hold," says Reko. Loudly.
ATOP THE STEPS TO heaven, Reko shields her eyes from a flash of sunlight to bear witness to the Theatre of Calliope. It's unlike anything she's seen before, grandiose and one with the cliff they'd just conquered. If Samurai Wan-wan is tired, she can't tell — regardless, she kneels and gives them an idle pat on the head as she beholds their stage.
"Still got wind in ya'?" Reko addresses her teammate, a stony look on her face. She's an idol, which Reko believes speaks to her ability to coordinate as a team, but her individual creativity... she'd have to see for herself. After all, people from all walks of life had let Reko down, and her standards are higher than this stage. Speaking of—
"We're signin' up for the professional category. Y'think you can take that?" This time, she also takes a look at Frye's spiramonster. She finds herself doubting: how expressive can a creature like that really be?
— sorry for going a bit MIA lately! i'm aiming to get at least my starters out today for the event, and do some replies following on (fingers crossed). thanks for your patience :')
like for an event starter (the challenger's path) — uncapped, but i may be selective/cut off if i feel overwhelmed!
please specify in replies if you want to do one of the challenges.
reko currently has a robotic doberman-like spiramonster in her possession called 36雷11 (read: samurai wan-wan).
"THEY REALLY WENT AND dumped you on me, huh?" says Reko with great irritation, looking over her new 'Spiramonster' with an unimpressed gaze. She had just been minding her own business and getting ready for the day before the assholes running this place had suddenly upended it.
The creature wags their tail and hastily treads a little circle in her apartment floor. Huh. They're certainly not a real animal, but they sure act like an actual dog. Reko cants her head in curiosity, kneeling in front of what is decidedly a robo-pet — one of those things she saw on an ad when she was a kid and recoiled at.
As loathe as she is to admit it, Reko likes dogs. They're honest and easy to read, unlike other people and even cats, who act too good to be provided the domestication they so crave. Dogs know what they want, pursue it to exhaustion, and wear their emotions on their sleeve.
The thought of a robot dog bastardised that impression she had of the species entirely. They had programmed emotions, programmed reactions — none of that came from the heart. The tail wags were probably calculated for optimum cuteness. But as she watches this dog, she can't help but feel that despite their metal chassis, they have intent somewhere in there. Their tail wags mean something to them, even if someone else is responsible for their existence.
This particular form of creature was certainly sent as an insult. But fuck those insults — if the insult is the nature of her existence, then she'll exist unapologetically.
"... I guess no one else is gonna take care of you, huh?" Reko scritches behind her spiramonster's ear, watching it twitch stiltedly, but still somehow earnest. Their leg thumps against the floor, clanging, but embracing a lopsided rhythm. Each stroke of the back causes the entire system to flow like a wave, meeting Reko's own cybernetic touch.
She looks at the breakfast she'd been letting simmer and tosses them a bacon rasher; they gratefully chomp it down and lick up the bits on the floor.
"Easy, easy," she warns, already wondering whether she's going to have to clean the floor of machine lubricant. Grand. "You'd think they'd fuckin' ask before leaving you at my doorstep, huh?" But she doesn't sound so irritated after all, even with the yaps from the dog that ricochet off of her walls.
"Okay, you lil' mutt. What are we gonna call you?" She circles the creature, embracing the silliness of it all in a moment's private respite. "How about... 'Barker'?" The spiramonster is excited, but Reko's clearly not impressed with her own suggestion. "Nah, that's uninspired. Let's get a little more creative about it, throw some more shit at the wall. Laser. Dashboard. Fetch. Reko Jr. Skullnut. Uh... Samurai.
'Samurai 11..." She snorts. That's terribly silly. It takes all the elegance from her former band's pun and completely fucks off with it. Still, it's... kind of fitting for such an unexpectedly adorable dog. "Wan-wan? You like that?"
They shoot back their own rusty recording of Reko's 'wan-wan', amplified twofold. Her poor apartment-mates.
"Okay, okay! '11' it is. Now, we're gonna have to lay down some house rules here. No shittin' on the floor, no barkin' in the middle of the night, no jumpin' on the couch— Oi, what'd I just say?!"
a robotic, doberman-like spiramonster assigned to reko yabusame
despite their steeled appearance and prickly owner, they have an excitable and friendly personality
speaks in barks, music and tail wagging
has a strong desire to win the challenges!
design credit: fetch, a process enemy from supergiant's transistor
ABILITIES
AMPLIFY — wan-wan can amplifies their barks or their owner's voice to a range that can be heard from 500 feet away. those in a shorter vicinity can be stunned by the sheer volume of it.
TAIL SLASH — wan-wan's tail has a short, dagger-like blade on the end that can be unsheathed and used to attack, or open soda cans.
SAMURAI DASH — wan-wan can activate their superdoberman speed in a short burst, easily evading an attack or getting behind an enemy. they can only do this once in a while (recharges after 2 posts of not using).
RECO-RD — wan-wan can record another spiramonster's attack, store it, and repeat it once. once this is done, they can never replicate that attack again.
hi everyone. does anybody else miss something they can never return to. anyone else being swallowed whole by grief. anyone else clinging to love as a life preserver
𝄢 “…I’m not wearing make-up right now though…and I was voted one of the most eligible bachelors…WHAT DO YOU MEAN I LOOK LIKE SHIT?!”
𝄢 His eye definitely did not just twitch. Nope. His pride is broken though. His confidence in shambles. Oh, he’s never going to recover from this. In his old body he was a beauty and now- his shoulder’s slump. He could sink into the ground right now. It takes him a moment to compose himself but even then he feels like he needs to go into hiding. “Alright then. Where exactly do I even get all these things you keep mentioning? Also how do you suggest I look less shitty?”
"OI, I NEVER SAID you look like shit, easy!" Reko also never clarifies that he doesn't look like shit. "You look okay for a man, I guess— How'm I supposed to know?! Like I'd ever vote in a stupid contest like that."
But this poor stranger looks so sad — pathetic, even, the way his shoulders have suddenly resigned from their occupation. Even though the mere image irritates her... the real Reko is supposed to care about the weak, isn't she?
"You can find 'em at a cosmetics store. You know, like — not one that's just built into a drugstore, like a proper beauty one-stop or somethin'. Then once you have the materials, you gotta learn 'em to work with 'em." She pinches the bridge of her nose, suddenly annoyed at a suggestion that hasn't even been pitched yet. "Don't tell me you don't even know what a beauty shop is!"
"UH..." COMPLIMENTS COME HOPELESSLY hard. "You know that phrase 'be yourself'? I think you should do that. You is better than whatever this is." Does that count?
❝ Meeting so many new people and making new friends here. It truly is exciting~! But isn't it a little sad knowing we will one day have to say farewell when one of us disappears from here like others have? ❞
Shin staggers backward with the force of her blow, wincing in pain as heat radiated from the wound. With a cocktail of shock, disbelief, and horror, cortisol raced through his arteries. He knew her body was inorganic, but he never imagined it would be so easy to remove one of her limbs. Still... his fingers curled tightly around the cold ceramic, feeling it's weight and texture with his median nerve.
He knew it was a strange and macabre to do, but this gambit was a tangible piece of evidence that confirmed his suspicions about his and Reko's true natures. Vindicated, he tucked the detached limb under his arm and raised his other in front of his face. Blood seeps out of his mouth as he speaks.
"You're wrong," Shin's fear and anger betrayed his coarsened tenor, "You need to stop lashing out with incomplete information, if you even can! There was more than our collars keeping everyone trapped — an entire security system was deployed in case someone like me decided to revolt! I'm just a programmer, Reko! I couldn't even hope to disable it on my own!
"I didn't create you, and I didn't create that twisted game! I was powerless! But you...! There was always the risk that you were coded to destroy us from within! Nao knew that better than anyone after the Mishima AI appeared in her room, and she took the burden into her own hands!"
Shin touched his swollen flesh, the shortness of his breath making it difficult to remain standing. The crowd trickling in grew more oppressive the thicker the air between them raged. The onlookers could feel the weight of their words, and the implications of their relevations.
"I'll say it one more time since you're stubborn as hell! Get ahold of yourself! This is a place children play for pity's sake, not the Death Game!"
THE WHITES IN THOSE teeth Sou has ground down to only let lies through, Reko can see them with startling clarity. He defies those honest, child-like smiles that never show his gums, that never meet his eyes. By all instruments of observation, he is testifying the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
However, what he testifies is complete nonsense, and may as well be written in iambic pentameter for how little it parses on virginal touch. Security system? Mishima AI? Nao? He knows something about Nao that she doesn't? Again? God, give her a break!
Reko's fist rears back, pinpricks of his blood decorating her knuckles and none blossoming underneath. Between the draw of her bow and the empty quiver, there is a window. She dares to look through it: snivelling children, snot-nosed and red-eyed, tethered to a fight that they only play the role of audience for. Blights and annoyances, shouldering their way into business that they could never understand.
And yet —
That's bizarre! It's like… it's like you're not Reko…!! You've changed!! You were so… full of affection…!!
Her hand lunges forward — holding her digits open threateningly. "Give it back." No profanity dresses her threat. She can't punch him in this position. Rather, she won't. "I don't wanna see you ever again. I know you don't want to either. So give it back."
