Stan Marsh Cosplay Novels & Stories

My skin prickled with a weird kind of intrigue. "Jesus," I said, rubbing my stomach as another cramp hit. "You scared me. Nice makeup, though. The whole undead thing? Very dedicated. Most guys just wear a plastic mask." "It is not makeup," he said. His voice was a low vibration that sent tingles all over my body. He stood impossibly still. "Right," I scoffed, shifting my weight. "Custom contacts and veneers too? You’re a dedicated cosplayer, I’ll give you that. Must have cost a lot to get your skin looking that pale."

He was wearing a hikitate-eboshi (black bird) hat and a gray battle surcoat. “The quartermaster is named Kosano. I believe Sasha fought him and managed to drop him overboard. He wields a pair of tonfas because he used to be martial arts police. He became corrupt and decided to give up his marshal’s star for gold. Now he runs most of the slave trade operations in the south. He’s from there and an earth Slayer. He’s dark-skinned, wears a bandana on his head and, if you look closely, you’ll find he’s missing a pinky…”

Eranthe returned home with bags in hand, and the house was quiet, with only the robot vacuum still working diligently, which she had set up in the morning. Colin hadn't sent her a message all day. Eranthe washed all the lingerie she bought and hung them on the balcony before starting to prepare dinner for herself. In the group chat, Oriel had already started sharing her outfit ideas. "There's a cosplay night event during the camping party. I want to be Boa Hancock from One Piece. What do you think, sisters?" Acacia shared hers, "I want to cos Nico Robin." Eranthe hadn't expressed her opinion yet and was being relentlessly mentioned by the two.

Halloween week at Fantasy Island meant themed costumes, and Madam Fantasy had been clear: go big or go home. I adjusted my mask in the mirror. Black and silver, covering the top half of my face, with small silver chains that dangled near my temples. The mask was my safety. My shield. Without it, I was just Jane Puckett, broke college student. With it, I was Jailbird, whoever the hell I wanted to be. The dressing room smelled like hairspray and body glitter. Keiko was beside me, dressed as Catwoman, her mask sleek and minimal. Cammie had gone full Harley Quinn, complete with a baseball bat covered in rhinestones.

Woah, there's even a guy cosplaying as a butler. When I looked into the mirror, I had realized the situation I was in. This was the biggest joke that life had ever played on me. I remember having short yet curly black hair with black eyes like every other person in Asia but... The shiny yet straight silver hair that almost reached my waist along with the eyes that almost looked like emerald …? It wasn't my body...?! "My name? What is my name?" asked the girl as she placed her hands on her cheeks " 'Rubia Mary Albert Charleston' that is your name dear is everything all right? " Answered the woman

“The wings are amazing.” “Really? Do I look like a hummingbird? I thought I might look more like a blue jay—” “No way. It’s perfect. Best Halloween costume ever.” She looked at his costume and rolled her eyes. “You’re not even in a costume!” “Yes, I am.” He showed her a sign he’d made that read Nudist on Strike. “I’m on strike, babe.” “Oh well, does that mean you’re on strike for me? Because that’s a damn shame.”

"Or should I text him?" He jerked his thumb behind him then stumbled away, breaking into a slew of giggles. Curious, I looked where Chase pointed. I sensed something wasn't right, but I kept looking. There Steve was! Dressed up as the Joker. Seriously, Steve? Of all the costumes to choose—wait, he was already dancing? I moved toward him, straining to see who the girl was. She was dressed up as the Corpse Bride. (Morbidly appropriate.) I didn't recognize her until her ragged wedding veil fell off and a blonde pixie-cut emerged.

"Holy shit, Kat! He's filthy and hot. No wonder you're hooked." They dissolved into giggles, applying final touches, red lipstick for Katherine, a smoky cat-eye for Stacy and delicate masks, Katherine's a delicate silver filigree that framed her eyes mysteriously, Stacy's a bold feathered black. “We look incredible," Stacy declared, linking arms. "Let's own this night."

She was dressed in a designer dress, matching her emerald eyes, a white bag dangling from one hand. “Girl, you are not wearing that,” she said, wagging a finger at me as she took in my attire, which consisted of dark jeans, a black T-shirt with Eminem printed on it, and combat boots. I folded my arms. “What’s wrong with Marshall Mathers?” I complained. “Nothing. He’s a legend. But we gotta get you looking like a bad bitch if you want to impress the Shadow Moon Pack... come on.” She took a step forward and dragged me back to my room.

She mumbled in confusion. Yesterday afternoon when Keenan sent her a message to ask what gift he wanted, he also invited Yasmin to come to his birthday party. The man told Yasmin that the event would be held using cosplay dresscode. Keenan recommended a cat woman costume to Yasmin while complimenting that the girl would definitely look very beautiful if she wore that costume. Because she was too lulled by Keenan's praise, Yasmin finally immediately obeyed.