Fantasy Beasts was the popular vote for the first quarterly theme week. Gonna be fun! The beasts in question have been selected already and I hope you enjoy the brief break away from the daily kitties :3
I’m kind of emotional about Magnus Burnsides the Mannequin’s last stand? That’s cinematic that is. “Do you need to water to breathe?” The Voidfish rises up with him with a sung denial, so with one mighty swing of his axe - not enchanted Railsplitter but his old axe, maybe as old as his memories of the planet with the purple sky and two suns, haft and blade each replaced a dozen times but still at heart the same axe he learned to swing as a boy - Magnus the mannequin DESTROYS the tank. The wave of water blasts out, wrecks the Hunger’s more robotic minions in a cloud of water and sparks, and knocks back the rest. They converge again, of course, ignoring for the moment the Voidfish in favor of their old foe, in a weaker, more wooden form than usual - but do you think they know that axe? Do you think something, that was smiling in that bright-streaked cloud of darkness with a thousand raging, starving eyes, remembers that swing, that deadly slice, that roar of battle fury as the protector stands once more over the body of a friend and innocent, a creator, and strikes until he can strike no more at those who would destroy.
And in another moment, he’ll rise again, in a better, more familiar body with a less familiar but almost infinitely more badass weapon. Oh, how it must drive the Hunger mad how these seven twittering nuisances never stay down.
“So we’re trying to become toast,” Yuuri explains, and points at the screen. “So we have to make it to the toaster.”
Victor has never been much for video games—he wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for the fact that Yuuri is sitting distractingly close to him, his ankle continuously brushing against Victor’s own. “This is seriously a game that people pay money for?”
He nods. “Phichit and I used to play it all the time. It’s good for bonding. Okay, come on. You can control the top half of the bread.”
A few minutes later, they are invested.
“Yuuri!” Victor shouts as they’re about to tumble off of a wall. “Yuuri, hold on. You’d better–Yuuri! You let go!”
“The grip ran out,” he sighs, and takes his hand off of the keyboard. “I’m sorry.”
“We were so close,” Victor mumbles, pulling Yuuri onto his lap and lacing his fingers on his torso, burying his face in the back of his shoulder. “So close to finally becoming toast.”