where the Creatures come to Creep

| screamy's sporadic-activity multi-muse | 18+ only | check the pinned post before breaching the threshold |

[cryptidsncurios]

⛥ an independent, highly-selective and sporadic-activity multi-muse roleplay blog ⛥ formerly thefatalmarksman / areapermostcapricious / thecrimsonmonster

⛥ current muses: xigbar (kingdom hearts)  [archive] kuja (final fantasy ix)  [archive] zolf j. kimbley (original fullmetal alchemist anime)  [archive] murdoc niccals (gorillaz) brenin (twisted wonderland original character)

⛥ beta editor only ⛥ curated by screamy

⛥ layin’ down the law ⛥ the unholy roster ⛥ thread tracker ⛥

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[niratias]

That knife end clips his lip and draws first blood so sharply it sends Josh back with a bright laugh, landing on his ass and raising a hand to his face, utter delight in those manic blue eyes.

Style? He has one, but it could hardly be called elegant. Latex-look black and reds, enough familiar maple leaves to make it abundantly clear how proud he is of where he comes from (if Americans can be obnoxious about their flag, so can he, gods damn it!), and that incredibly odd headgear create the image of a consummate killer...who is tasting his own blood and evidently thinks that doing as much means he's accepted the job offer.

He stands, favoring his most recently reconstructed knee (they've both gone out over the years) for a moment now that he's had the wind knocked out of him, and offers a hand. Astute eyes might recognize some of his extensive ink covers up older tattoos that weren't worth saving, but whoever he sees these days is a master of that craft.

He's well-aware he's kinda funny looking. Embraced it, if the purposeful choice to shave his eyebrows says anything about that.

"Never is a long time, and I'm a very patient man." Josh keeps his tongue pressed against the nick. Maybe he likes the taste. "So- I up to what my reputation suggested, or do I need to go lock myself away in shame for a few more months? I AM coming back from injury right now."

[cryptidsncurios]

Kuja clearly sees the extended hand, intended to aid him in getting to his feet---overtly ensures the other man can see the acknowledgement with his intense gaze.

But even from his position on the floor, still so unceremoniously postured---he pointedly smacks the offered hand away. A prideful demonstration of his refusal---that, despite how he had been caught off-guard now, he had no intention of allowing himself to ever be pitied in such a way.

He wants no expressions of generosity---no offerings of amicability.

And thus, he rises on his own, his limbs gracefully coordinated to reposition himself to an upright stance---poised, purposeful, fully facing his former opponent... now turned possible "employee."

"While I do enjoy locking unsavory folk away," this first part stated with a tight, yet nonetheless humorous edge, "I suppose you have demonstrated that you have the ability to serve me---albeit, your delivery of it was presented somewhat... crudely."

In truth, all of those wide, kindly smiles and careful, saccharine manipulations that Kuja expressed were always saved for those within the insufferable bourgeoisie---all of them always champing at the bit for Kuja's beauteous attention, his oh-so delectable magnanimity. In every transaction at his Auction House of rare curiosities and incredible historical items did he conjure his wealth---did he receive their selfishly-hoarded savings. Oh, how he knew his poetic language lorded over every monetary numeral of their multiplicity of bank accounts---every single digit ending up cascading from their wallets and cards and online apps into his own luscious pocket.

But here, it was so very different.

Gone would be the sophisticated Kuja, draped in his fineries, playing so very delicately to appease a sensitive audience. So refined, so darling, so superficially appealing.

No, here, where the hideous vagabonds, the depraved ingrates, and the salacious cutthroats resided, there would be no caution in his speech, that---despite its naturally purple nature---would not express sweet sentiments. And so, when Kuja intended to hire someone to cater to his quite illicit whims, he knew well not to mince his words.

And Josh would have to understand this dichotomy of his nature, if he was to be a proper "employee" of Kuja's.

"As it appears, your injury seems of little consequence---though, since you have mentioned if yourself, it shall be worth noting," and his tone is quite accusatory, like a teacher reflecting upon a student's unintentionally guilty confession. "Yet, given that you have proven yourself a promising combatant, I suppose I shall deign to allow you a space in my Guest Quarters."

Despite the rather violent altercation that had occurred, there had been two designated individuals that had been stationed at the battle zone's only exit---bulky, hulking guards to guarantee privacy---and, at the verbally expressed notion, moved to escort Josh to what had been previously designated as his possible room.

However, Kuja swiftly raised his hand, and they immediately froze.

"I will personally guide him," he commanded. "Begone. Now."

And they obeyed the command, retreating swiftly without a single hint of hesitation.

[cryptidsncurios]

i lobve kimbs' irl fc chen kun that i picked like................... he's just....

i mean i'm jUST!

aAAAHUUHGHHH

[amestrian-rain]

Though his voice came as a bit of a surprise - not quite the lightness Havoc had expected - it wasn't exactly shocking enough to throw him off guard, particularly with the attention those elegant fingers dancing over the stem drew. One never knew was to anticipate from a stranger. And one important factor about that was that this stranger likely didn't know what to anticipate from him either, which meant that his motivation for coming in at all tonight could safely fly under the radar.

Whoever this was, he certainly knew what he wanted, making it clear that Havoc would be the one paying. He'd intended to regardless, but the lines were being drawn early, weren't they? Havoc fixed him with a raised eyebrow and a half smirk but nodded agreeably. "Of course. Back before you can blink." And he disappeared back into the crowd of revelers without the slightest idea that he was buying this man a drink in his own bar.

There was only one man ahead of him in line when he got to the bar, but the bartender was quick to serve them both, and only a few minutes later, Havoc was back at the intoxicating stranger's side a drink in each hand. "Bee's knees. My treat." He offered him the glass with a light hold on the tapering stem, a light of amusement in his eyes at the name of the drink he'd so playfully chosen.

Havoc rested an elbow on the table, careful not to disturb any of the papers and nodded toward the sheets of numbers. "Not interrupting anything am I?"

[cryptidsncurios]

Oh, how Kuja was actually so very charmed right now.

Offered a drink---one that he quite preferred, and had no doubt it was chosen due to its simplistic and yet, honestly, playful nature---Kuja now allowed himself to fully study his newest, most flirtatious companion, in even more detail than he already had. And oh, how---yet again---he felt an overwhelming sense of charm at really, completely viewing him: such lovely, shimmering blond locks, ruffled to an endearing degree; and ah, what stunning blue eyes---no, no, "blue" would not do---but ah, cerulean, like a brilliant, cloudless sky, would be so much more an accurate descriptor---and a figure of such... ah, if he had pearls he would clutch them with such desperation---impressive proportions.

Decidedly, Kuja set aside his work, intent on furthering this quite intriguing interaction.

"Not at all---in fact, you've given me the perfect reason to take a break from..." a quick, sideways glance towards the exhausting amount of numbers on his multitude of documents---then a couple flicks of his wrist, dismissively, "all of this nonsense."

It could wait---would wait. Even, perhaps, should wait. Kuja deserved a moment of relaxation---a well-deserved span of allowing such a bold (and oh-so handsome) man to entertain him.

"Do tell me---what brings you here to The Palace?" he inquired, one curved hand with a bent wrist hovering, somewhat coquettishly, near his jawline, while the other one rested pointedly at the base of his drink, fanned out to display the intricate design and cleanliness of his nails---and how lovely the softness of his skin, and the delicate bone structure. "I will say, aside from our usuals, seeing a new face is, while unusual---" and how his dark lashes fluttered, intentionally gripping onto eye contact, "---quite pleasurable."

[amestrian-rain]

Continued from here

@cryptidsncurios

At first he just froze, wide eyed. Disappointed? No progress? Russell had never seen Kimbley looking at him like that before, like he was completely worthless, a waste of time, disposable. Someone who could just be dismissed after so much time pouring over notes, researching late into the night, and countless experiments that he was certain would bring them closer toward their goal.

But as the papers scattered to the floor, that stunned silence shifted to tightly gritted teeth and a sharp glare as a mixture of panic and a heated rejection of Kimbley's harsh words set in. He wasn't a failure, and he'd prove it. He needed this! There was no one else who'd seen his father's notes and knew the material like Kimbley did. He may not enjoy this man's company, but Russell respected his knowledge and abilities, and if he was completely honest with himself, he knew he needed him.

Never letting his tempestuous scowl falter, he automatically gathered up the closest of the fallen papers and slapped them onto the desk with a resounding thump. Pointing an accusatory finger at Kimbley, he retorted, "If you don't see it, then you're not looking! I've found ways to crystalize the red water faster, more safely, and in larger stones! They're more powerful than when we started and there hasn't been a single rebound!"

But the increase in power was minimal, and there was very little progress on increasing the stones' stability. And if he couldn't improve that, the red water stones were still unreliable over extended periods of time. That wasn't enough, and he knew it. There had to be more, something he was missing. Something that Nash hadn't written down and that he and Fletcher hadn't uncovered back in Xenotime. But he had no idea what it was or where to look for the answer. Even so, no amount of throwing that back in his face would stand in his way of finding out, and he wasn't taking a single step out of the Devil's Nest unless it would lead him closer to that discovery. For Fletcher's sake.

"I just need more time," he huffed. But he refused to beg. Kimbley may be cold, but that didn't mean he couldn't be reasoned with. "If I can find that one missing ingredient, and we'll have a stone equivalent to the real thing. And when I find it," with a heavy, determined emphasis on the word, "we won't need to track down a philosopher's stone to have the same level of alchemical power. It's just not in the notes, but I'll find it!" Without knowing how a philosopher's stone was created, he had little that he could compare their current process with, but that didn't mean it was impossible. It just meant more sleepless nights, more experiments, and taking risks he hadn't considered before. But he'd do it if he had to.

[cryptidsncurios]

Obviously, Kimbley knew exactly what the "something missing" was---what the boy seemed so perplexed in finding. Kimbley, himself, had discovered what it was, after his years here at the Devil's Nest---after he had been allowed his fair share of freedom to pursue his various "interests."

On yes---all that time to review the notes the boy's father had left behind, combining them with his own meticulous research. Knowing, inately, that it would never be as simple as throwing together various collective elements into assorted plants, into placenta, into a myriad of solids and liquids, and whatever other permeable, generative, organic structures that alchemists would desperately list as possible options for such experimentation.

But the truth of it all was there, dangling in front of the boy's face.

And that truth? It was the very reason the boy's father had abandoned his research---disappeared into the aether, and then had met his ultimate end.

Kimbley, on the other hand, had absolutely no qualms in furthering that research---had kept to himself all of his notes, painstakingly annotated in his numerous journals, in an unreadable code to anyone other than himself. How he had engaged in cultivating his personal Stones in privacy, and kept his secrets close to his chest---quite literally, really.

And typically, Kimbley was not one to waste his time---one to dilly-dally with projects that he knew would have no meaningful end.

However, there was something about this child---this "apprentice" that he had allowed into his own studious sphere---that was actually, possibly promising. Despite his unempathetic nature, Kimbley could still see it in him, especially in this very moment: a brimming fire, coupled with such an intense desperation---a deep and true yearning for a solution to this ongoing quandary. He could see it from the way the boy reclaimed his scattered notes from the floor---the defiant burning in his eyes, the determined set of his jaw.

This is what Kimbley had wanted to see.

But his apprentice still had to truly prove that if---no, now Kimbley anticipated, when---he made his ultimate revelation, that he would have the will to continue on. That he would have the guts for it.

Kimbley kept up the expression of displeasure---though allowed it to be lightened, yet nonetheless in a calculated way, as he stated:

"Then find it," ---and here, during this dialogue, he would allow a tiny bit of a merciful hint: "You must be willing to dig even deeper than you already have. Understand that, as an alchemist, there is a possibility that the truth you find might alter your very moral compass."

And wasn't it such a relief that Kimbley did not have one of those himself.

[cryptidsncurios]

@amestrian-rain continued from [ X ]

Kimbley was no fool, of course.

He knew that his alchemical abilities were leagues above the typical soldier, but dealing with a homunculus---two, in fact---would be vastly unwise.

No, now that his objective had been completed, the child homunculus now secured at the behest of his current employer, it was time for a swift retreat.

"I shall admit, your candor is somewhat admirable," he stated---though it was quite the bland delivery, reflecting no actual admiration in the least, "---but it's also flagrantly stupid. If you truly wish to be cunning in approaching a battle, wait until you are most certainly prepared to face whatever will come at you."

This was not to be perceived as cowardice, of course---this was simply well-implemented wisdom.

"Stave death as long as you can, boy," he added, coaxing with his hand as he began stepping backwards, toward the hole in the wreckage through which he had initially entered Southern Headquarters with quite the impressive bang. "But if you wish to ignore my advice, I have no issue leaving you to your recapture---and, likely, your demise."

Sure, the "Boss-man" might not be too entirely pleased with that sort of turn of events, but Kimbley had no interest in further squandering his time while two homunculi were prowling around, and several more dozens of military lackeys would be flooding the area soon enough.

[laterkiss]

*flirting* are you ever repulsed by ur desires

[cryptidsncurios]

Getting read on this fine Tuesday huh

[cryptidsncurios]

Dear tourists coming to S.alem MA:

Please do not treat cities where people actually live like D.isney World. Please do not throw your trash everywhere, disrespect people just trying to do their jobs, clog up the sidewalks, and try to break into historical houses that are locked up and unavailable for visitation—AND, in which some people might be actually living.

S.alem is not a fucking playground. Fuck off if you can’t be a decent human being.

[cryptidsncurios]

Y’all wanna see Kimbley’s pets??

[cryptidsncurios]

THEM!!!!!!

[cryptidsncurios]

Y’all wanna see Kimbley’s pets??

[cryptidsncurios]

Preview of Kimbley’s (evil) room at the Nest

(pls say y’all know the reference)

[screamyscribbles]

roger smith vc: oh haley, does “Kuja” sound like a real person to you? grow up, it’s me.

[pom-pom-cherry]

Any ship can be problematic if you just give me a second-

[cryptidsncurios]

Suggest a lazy doodle and I’ll do it

( First 3 win )

[cryptidsncurios]

Oh lawd he lazin’

@dragonofthestone

[cryptidsncurios]

Suggest a lazy doodle and I’ll do it

( First 3 win )

[cryptidsncurios]

Sometimes even Evil needs a nap……

Run while you still can

@multiimused

[cryptidsncurios]

Suggest a lazy doodle and I’ll do it

( First 3 win )

[cryptidsncurios]

DENIED

(But also not tooootally, I just lov drawing herrr)

@hariolor