“HELL YEAH!”

"hey Yami Kamy, how come Kamy doesn't draw me?"

weevil-underwood:

Weevil lingered uncertainly on the sidewalk, watching the bustle of costumed activity and wondering if he really wanted to take part in it….but then Rex was pulling him inside and his options became rather limited.   “Don’t–drag me, lizardface!” he complained, stumbling to keep up until, at last, he fell in-step beside the other.     The abrupt shift in the atmosphere was jarring…instead of Domino stale city air, they were awash in the smells of cider, perfume, and pumpkin spice.    On all sides of them, people bustled about in suits, frilly dresses, and feather-edged masks, some of them dancing, some of them eating, most of them talking and creating a sea of chatter.   Ugh…this many bodies in one place was repulsive. “How late is this running again?” he asked, raising his voice to be heard.

“All night,” was Rex’s thrilled response. “It’s catered, too. Omg Weev, there’s a chocolate fountain!” The crowds of people all dressed up didn’t bother him the way it bothered Weevil, and in his current excitement he didn’t even notice. He dragged his friend swiftly and firmly to the food buffet, where he dropped his arm in favor of picking up two plates.

He turned and shoved one into Weevil’s hands. “This is the literal BEST, come on let’s fill our plates before someone else beats us to it.”

It’s A Masquerade, Not A Costume Party

weevil-underwood:

“Isn’t the entire idea that we don’t know who anyone is?” Weevil asked, keeping his gaze ahead as they walked.   Without his glasses cruelly accentuating the creases around his eyes, making him look like he was constantly looking at the world through a bugeyed, shrewd glare, his face seemed much softer.    ….it was exactly why Weevil preferred his glasses, honestly.  Much like a moth with large, imposing eyespots on its wings to deflect predators from what was, otherwise, a defenseless, squishy body, Weevil relied heavily on psyching people out to keep them at a distance.    Before Duel Monsters had become a craze, people thinking he was creepy and, to some degree, threatening was the only thing standing between him and being bundled into lockers during passing periods at school.

“Well I mean... I guess you’re right.” Rex pondered for a moment, the rare possibility that there might be beautiful girls at the part that didn’t know who he was, might even flirt with him a little. Would it make Weevil jealous? His chest puffed up a little, the impossible imagination giving him pride he had no right to feel. 

“I think this is it,” he said, pointing at the building. It was decorated in Halloween decorations, and there were people walking in and out of the doors all dressed up. It had to be. “Come on Weeves,” Rex grinned, looping his arm through Weevil’s and pulling him along faster. “Let’s go before the food is gone!”

It’s A Masquerade, Not A Costume Party

weevil-underwood:

In Weevil’s own opinion, he wasn’t giving Rex anything.   He had been late, and there was no excuse for it.   Though, at least the mutual assumption they were in control of the situation seemed to iron out the worst of the ruffled feathers between them.   “Dinosaurs are always obvious.”  Weevil half-heartedly argued, making a point of stepping on the inflatable T-rex costume’s head as he exited the apartment, closing and locking the door after him.   Well…there it was.  He had officially committed to tossing aside his evening’s plans in order to go to a formal costume party with his rival-turned-friend, wearing a gifted corsage on his wrist, and it was absolutely not a date.   He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, straightening his mask over his eyes as he followed after Rex.

“Yeah, it’s hard to disguise fucking awesome,” Rex replied proudly. Dinosaurs were majestic and awesome beasts, and he rather liked that they were so easily recognized. It didn’t mean, however, that HE would be recognized. After all, he was dressed up pretty nicely, even his mom had said she hardly recognized him. 

The ball was taking place at some historical building that had rented out for the evening or something, and thankfully, it wasn’t too far of a walk for them. Weevil lived fairly close to the city. As they walked, Rex fished around in his pocket for the flyer to the ball, reading over it carefully. Nothing about tickets, cost, or invitations... so... that meant it was free to get in, right? 

“Hey, you think we’ll see a lot of people we know there?” he asked, glancing over at Weevil. He found himself blinking in surprise. Wow... huh.... he actually looked kind of pretty in that mask. And he did look nice in a suit...

It’s A Masquerade, Not A Costume Party

Submitted by yaminexus.

Submitted by plumemoth

“Man, @weevil-underwood, last night was pretty wild, am I right?”

My reaction to the 1990 movie IT, drawn and created by David Hopkins. Lol I thought this came out great! So I wanted to share it with you. What do you think? Should we make more like this?

weevil-underwood: 

Weevil’s first impulse was to pull away as Rex grabbed for him.  Nope, not fast enough, there was already something clipped to his sleeve.   He regarded the green-and-white corsage with disdain.   He wanted to say something disparaging about it.  He really should.    Instead he sniffed at the sweet fragrance wafting off of the gardenia, taking in the sight of Rex being, for perhaps the first time in his life, groomed and dressed for an occasion greater than walking to the corner store for more chips.   “You’re still late.” he grumped, grasping at the fleeing coattails of his earlier outrage, feeling he was still entitled to it. 

The feeling of triumph rose up inside Rex like one of those science fair volcano exhibits, bubbling up and overflowing into a smug smile. Weevil was letting him have it. Couldn’t complain about him taking it seriously, couldn’t complain about how he was dressed, so he was forced to just let Rex take the win. 

This night was already turning out fantastic. 

“I like your mask,” he said, ignoring the late comment. He wasn’t all that late, and it was still early enough to get to the ball in time to eat the really good food, so he wasn’t concerned. “You like mine? It’s painted to look like a dinosaur without being too obvious.” He showed it off proudly, beginning to walk and expecting Weevil to follow along with him. 

It’s A Masquerade, Not A Costume Party

Pegasus’ next duel monster card: A literal god damn glass of wine with googly eyes on it. Toon wine.

weevil-underwood:

Eight o’clock turned into eight oh-one.  And then eight oh-two.   ….eight oh-three…. Weevil huffed and slipped off his mask, having decided, at three minutes late, Rex clearly wasn’t planning on showing after all.   He wasn’t sure who was the bigger idiot in this scenario - Rex for not being able to keep track of his obligations, or himself for actually going along with this spur-of-the-moment crap.   Whatever… He had just begun to undo his tie when there was a sharp knock at the door, making him freeze in surprise and then quickly readjust it back into place as he crossed the living room to unlatch the door and fling it open.  “You’re lat–” he started to say, eyes narrowed moodily.  He was, however, cut off by sight of the enormous, squishy brown dinosaur taking up his entire doorway.  What.   It was all his mind could formulate in retaliation as he wrapped his head around the fact that Rex had seriously gone to the trouble of finding that thing, putting it on, and then having the shameless nerve to waddle his way across town in it.  All for the express purpose of an ill-conceived punchline at his expense.    “You–You idiot!” Weevil raged, clenching his fists.   “You made me go to all that trouble for one of your stupid dinosaur jokes?!”   …all thing considered, yelling at the dopey inflatable heap was really not very satisfying.    “I can’t believe you actually had me going!  I can’t believe I took this SERIOUSLY!”

It had been a bit of a hassle to get here in the suit and make sure that underneath, he didn’t get sweaty or messy from the trip. But seeing Weevil’s face, hearing him complain like this, hell it was so worth it! 

Rex grinned ear to ear as he rambled on, waiting for him to get the majority of his frustration out, before acting. But as soon as he felt like Weevil might actually get disappointed instead of pissed, he reached up a hand and rapidly unzipped the costume, letting it fall down to the ground around his feet. 

“Tadaaaaa!” he declared, presenting himself in his suit and mask, and holding out a clip on green and white flower thing his mom had told him was customary to bring his date for this sort of thing. It went on the wrist or something, he didn’t really know, but his mom insisted so better to play it safe then sorry, right? 

He stepped out of his deflated T-Rex suit, grabbing Weevil’s wrist and clipping the flower thing to his sleeve. “Aww come on Weeves, don’t be mad,” he said winningly. “It was just a joke. You really think I’d do that after I worked so hard to convince you? There’s no way I’d pass this up.” 

It’s A Masquerade, Not A Costume Party

weevil-underwood:

Once Rex was gone, the first order of business had been to settle on his costume’s theme   After that, choosing an outfit hadn’t been difficult, really….every formal garment he owned was either in shades of green, or black and white.   A bit of mixing and matching had produced a mint-green jacket over a ruffled white shirt, white slacks, and a coral-colored tie to mimic a luna moth’s coloration. Though, with that part aside, things became decidedly more difficult.  The next few hours were filled with measuring, cutting, pasting, gluing, and painting.  He wasn’t an artist, but he was a perfectionist, producing a frustrating combination of lack of crafting precision and demand for it.    Eventually, with help of several tutorials online and some shameless tracing of more skilled people’s endeavors, he had pieced together his mask.   A pair of large pale green gold-trimmed wings obscured the entire upper half of his face with the moth’s body resting on the bridge of his nose.    As it dried, he took the opportunity to wash up and reacquaint himself with his long-neglected pair of contact lenses, wincing and struggling until they’d both settled into place. After lining his eyes with some of the gold paint, and brushing the dust off of his dress shoes, he was set to go at seven forty-five.     As the clock ticked closer and closer to eight, Weevil found himself growing antsy.   What if Rex did show up looking like a wreck?  Was he meant to just excuse it since he’d already expected it?    He could probably use it as an excuse to get out of this entire mess if he really wanted to.    It wasn’t as if he wanted to go or anything. ….that idiot had better not have forgotten him.

Rex had not forgotten. On the contrary, he had planned for this night counting on Weevil going with him. He already had an outfit that he’d had to beg, bargain, and trade favors to get his mom to help him buy---not something to brag about, sure, but college cost money, and he didn’t exactly have loads of the stuff lying around to buy dress suits with. 

He raced through the door as soon as he got home, taking his shower in record time. Normally he didn’t even wait for his hair to dry before shoving his favorite had on and calling it good, but considering the occasion, he stood in front of the mirror and hissed complaints and swear words as he tried to brush out all the snarls. “Crawl out from under a bridge, my ass!” he mumbled at the mirror angrily. He’d show Weevil. He wouldn’t even recognize him he’d look so good!

In the end, he succeeded in getting it combed and dried, and tied back into a douchey looking ponytail. It was the only thing he knew how to do with it, and considering that this was a dance, he figured it would work. By the time seven o’clock rolled around, he was dressed in his charcoal suit with a green dinosaur skin-patterned tie. His mask was saurian, of course, but it at least matched his outfit. He grinned at himself in the mirror when he was done. “You clean up nice, Raptor,” he told himself, trying to imitate Weevil’s tone. His grin widened. 

“And now for the final step.”

He pulled out his inflatable T-Rex costume from his closet, turned on the air, and stepped into it with a nasty chuckle, zipping himself in. This was how he was going to go to Weevil’s door. This was what Weevil was going to see when he came out of his house. “Hehehe, he’s going to be so pissed!”

It’s A Masquerade, Not A Costume Party

weevil-underwood:

Weevil glared, though something in his eyes yielded at the proposition.  He’d never actually….been to a dance before.   All throughout high school, he’d dodged every social gathering and every opportunity to make friends, having absolutely no interest.   Even now, as a young adult, his usual haunts didn’t lend themselves to such things.   …and what, really, was the worst that could happen?  They would probably go for an hour, Rex would ditch him at the refreshment table, he’d stand around drinking a glass of punch, and then some “comedian” would ask him if he was supposed to be the mayor of the munchkin city, a fight would break out, and he and Rex would be bodily ejected. No different than the time they’d been banned from Domino’s discount theater, really. “Fine.” he said grudgingly.   “But only for a little while.  I’ve got things to do tonight.”

It worked? Rex blinked, and then brightened immediately. Hell yeah, it worked! Yes! We’re going! Free gourmet food buffet and hot chicks in ball gowns, here we come! He slammed his hand on Weevil’s back in a hearty pat, grinning ear to ear. “This is gonna be great, Weeves! Make sure your mask is something good, the idea is that no one knows who each other are, yeah?” 

He started off running, turning back to call over his shoulder. “Don’t take too long getting ready, I don’t want to be late!” All the best food got eaten within the first 20 minutes of these kinds of things, after all. 

Without waiting to hear Weevil’s reply, he was already hurrying home as fast as his legs cold carry him. He would never admit it, but as soon as he’d heard about this thing, he’d wanted to go. No dance or social party that he had ever been to had gone well, and the only times he’d had any semblance of fun were when Weevil was there with him. And as soon as he’d gotten the idea of him and Weevil, dressed up nice and hidden safely behind masks where no one could belittle or make fun of them, he was determined to make it happen. 

And Weevil had said yes. 

It’s A Masquerade, Not A Costume Party

 weevil-underwood:

Weevil rolled his eyes at Rex’s wandering line of logic.   A tournament?  Now he was just reaching.   Despite the fact it would be mostly duelists attending, he doubted most of them were going to be keen on having wasted time getting dressed up, lured in with the promise of mystery, food, and romance, just to have card games sprung on them.   Even though he would have been absolutely fine with that turn of events. At Rex’s final question, though, Weevil’s eyes narrowed.   “Excuse me?  When have I ever been afraid of dressing nicely?  You’re the one who looks like he rolled out from under a bridge every day.”    He tried to picture Rex cleaned up in a nice outfit….he couldn’t do it.   What came to mind more naturally was Rex in a rumpled dress shirt that didn’t fit him, a crooked tie, and his usual ratty green jacket thrown over the whole mess.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rex countered with a scowl. He pawed at his shirt self-consciously,  trying to straighten out the wrinkles. “My clothes are perfectly clean I’ll have you know, I’m not a HOBO!” 

Still, he found himself sniffing his shoulder, testing to see if there was indeed a smell. There wasn’t, and he straightened with renewed indignation. “So,” he declared, “if you’re not afraid of dressing up, then you have nothing keeping you from going!” There. Perfect. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

It’s A Masquerade, Not A Costume Party