Cosplay Overload | Thalia's Cosplay Crossover Contest

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Ray(a)

I couldn't help the sharp scowl pulling at my features as I yet again made a minute adjustment to the wig I'd been coerced (re: wrestled) into wearing; it had the godawful habit of slipping whenever my head moved even the slightest bit. Kay, seeing my struggle, allowed himself a thin-lipped smile while he ran a careful hand through his own silken blonde locks, which remained perfectly in place despite how often and how vibrantly he moved.

Damn author. This was just bonus torture for me, I knew it.

"What the hell are we even doing here?" I seethed, casting another unhappy glance around the convention hall.

It was some kind of grand event we'd been dragged to; hundreds, thousands of people milled around the vast space, dashing from one of the many stalls situated against the walls to the next, all of them dressed in bright, exotic costumes that seriously hurt my eyes the longer I stared. Towards the back of the hall I could make out where they'd erected a wide stage that currently housed no one; a sign off to the side told me they'd be announcing the winners of the cosplay contest in about an hour.

Kay shrugged, evidently as clueless as I was (which comforted me in no way, shape, or form). "Does it matter? Our author wished us to be here, and so we are. It's nothing we haven't been subjected to before, I'm sure."

"Kay. There're freaks here. That one guy was walking around shirtless and he was wailing on that other guy with pink hair."

"Your point? You've done far worse during your temper tantrums."

"We're also guys right now, if you haven't noticed! Is that seriously not weird to you?"

"It wouldn't be the first time," Kay deadpanned, and memories of our last club scenario spent as our genderbent selves came rushing to the surface, painting my cheeks a rustic red. I'd said way too much like that, things I came to regret when I'd reverted back into my normal self. "In any case, we're meant to act today, no? As I recall, we're tasked with portraying the two men we've been dressed to resemble."

I looked down, callously picking at the fur collar of my aviator jacket. It wasn't an ensemble I would have picked out myself, but I did have to admit that knowing my author, it could have been so much worse. The bland military uniform chafed a bit in all the wrong places, but I chalked that up to my being unused to wearing it. Really, the only thing that earned my rightful wrath was the damnable blond wig that freaking refused to stay put for more than five seconds. As I set about readjusting it again, I brushed the lone strand of hair that stuck nearly straight up. A cowlick, Author-chan called, I think. Weird but manageable, I supposed.

Kay had gotten the royal treatment as well, decked out in a green military suit not too different from my own, a shaggy blond wig, and emerald-green contacts (my own were a cool cerulean blue), along with monstrous brows (the kind I was fairly certain we're going to sprout wings and take flight to terrorize a local, defenseless village). He looked unperturbed at the change in attire, and stood languidly across from me, leaning back against the wall (probably only trying to up his damn cool factor, though I wasn't buying it).

He must have felt my eyes on him, because he ceased his study of a group passing us by (they were pretty eye-catching, dressed at they were in lilac suits and unflattering yellow dresses) to meet my wandering stare.

"I suggest you act like a blithering idiot for the remainder of our time here," he said through a dry smile, tacking on "it won't be too terribly difficult for you, I assume?" before I could get a word in edgewise.

I retaliated by throwing a hamburger (which had mysteriously materialized from the inside of my jacket) at his smug expression; of course, he lithely dodged to the side, and the grease-ridden thing disappeared behind a stand advertising limited edition posters for something called Axis Powers: Hetalia.

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