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[monstersplaybook]

Our latest episode had Kira reaching out to the world-ending demi-god known as Ember, who just so happens to live inside Kira's mind. Hopefully the hunters can figure out what to do with her and the other end fires before it's too late.

Art by our very own Lauren! 💜

[monstersplaybook]

Homecoming: Pt. 2

Kira sat in the alcove beneath the living room’s bay window to peer out at the stylish mystery man speaking to her father. She closed the wrinkled, beige curtains behind her, creating a makeshift hideout from the rest of her family as she spied on the two men outside. They were a stark contrast to one another: her father the picture of suburbia with his khaki slacks and striped polo shirt, while the mystery man was all haughty sophistication with his silk pocket square and immaculately combed hair.

She watched as the man’s burly driver stepped forward, procuring a thick envelope from her suit jacket, and handed it over to him. The gentleman gestured calmly to the bundle in his hands before holding it out for her father to inspect. He peeked into the envelope, staring at its contents with widening eyes.

“Well, your mob theory seems a bit more likely now, doesn’t it?” Anna asked, keeping her voice to a low whisper. Kira didn’t answer, and instead nodded her head absentmindedly. “What do you think they’re saying?”

To her extreme disappointment, Kira had no clue and kept scooching ever closer to the window attempting to hear something, until eventually, her breath was fogging up the window pane. Unfortunately, the thick glass morphed any outside noise into a cartoonish “wah-wah” sound that reminded Kira of a Peanuts telephone call.

“Ugh, I can’t hear anything,” Kira sighed with frustration as her father shut the envelope and eyed the mystery man with a furrowed brow.

Anna looked from the window pane to Kira with a spark of mischief in her eye, “Then DO something about it.” Anna mimed cranking open a window and gave her an encouraging nod.

Despite her faint trembling, she reached forward to unlock the window. At the sound of the window unlatching, an image flashed in her mind of her father’s red and blotchy face if he were to catch her spying. She drew in a sharp breath and started to withdraw her hand as the tightness in her chest became entirely too much to bear. But then, an image of a storm cloud flooded her mind. Setting her mouth in a hard line she grasped the handle and cranked it once to crack open the window.

“I don’t know…” her father trailed off, crossing his arms.

The tall, thin man gestured to the envelope her father was clutching far too tightly and fixed him with a discerning gaze, “I assure you it's all there. And it appears you've already made your decision.” He cocked his head to the side as her father grunted something unintelligible and gave an almost imperceptible nod.  

“We’ll need a minute.” Her father said with gravel in his voice.

The man grimaced at her father and shook his head, “No, that won’t be necessary.” He turned his gaze to the red, Chevrolet Conversion van and then back to her father. “Arrangements have been made.”

The man took a step closer to her father, partially shielding himself from Kira’s view as he muttered something. Desperate to hear what they were saying, Kira leaned forward a bit too fast and bumped her head against the window pane. Thud. Kira shook her head, momentarily dazed and turned to look at Anna who was gritting her teeth as if to say, “Oops.”

Both her father and the mystery man turned to the window and locked eyes with Kira. Her father’s jaw clenched, sending a shiver down her spine. But to her surprise, he only drew in one deep breath before lowering his gaze to the ground in... resignation, anger, shame? She wasn't sure which.

The mystery man, however, pulled his shoulders back to straighten his posture as he fixed his attention upon Kira. His eyes narrowed as he studied her, causing her to shrink back from the window at the sudden attention. She was good at looking small and unimportant. She'd had plenty of practice retreating into the shadows where she often hid from the man she called Father. Something flickered in the mysterious man's eyes for just a moment that she found herself wondering if she'd imagined it. And then, as if he were suddenly bored, the man shifted his apathetic gaze back to her father and waited.

After a moment, her father returned the envelope to the man before striding towards the front door. Kira parted the cover of curtains and hopped down from the bay window, prepared for a scolding—or worse. Her heart hammered in her chest as her father emerged in the entryway. But again, he glanced at her for only a moment before looking away and calling out for the other members of her family.

“What is it?” Kira’s mother asked as she emerged from the kitchen. She yawned and held a mug of coffee dangerously close to her face. Kira wondered absently if her mother thought she could absorb the caffeine simply by inhaling the steam. Kira wasn’t totally sure herself if she was being honest. 

“Get the kids. We’re leaving,” her father growled with a voice that meant there would be no ifs, ands or buts about it.

Her mother's face scrunched up in confusion. “What are you talking about? Michael what's this about?”

Her father placed both hands on her mother’s shoulders, “Do what I say.” Kira shivered, hearing a familiar edge creep into his voice. Her mother bristled slightly, hearing it too. She nodded and started calling out for the rest of Kira’s siblings to pile in the van outside. One by one they filed out of the house until Kira was the only child remaining. Doing a final glance around the living room, her mother’s gaze fell on Kira.

“Abby!” her mother snapped at her. Abigail may have been their name for her, but she had always felt like a Kira. Maybe that was why she didn't realize her mother was talking to her until she felt a rough hand clamp around her wrist. “Abby, did you hear me?! Get outside and wait in the—”

“No,” her father said, suddenly. A lengthy silence filled the room. “She’s not coming.” Her mother looked between her father and Kira, her brow furrowing deeper as he searched her husband's face for an explanation. Her father continued to avoid Kira's gaze at all costs.

“What’s going on?”

“Just get in the damn car,” her father snarled. He grabbed her mother above the elbow and started pulling her bodily through the door and towards the stylish gentleman outside.

Kira clung to the frame of her family’s front door, breathing heavily as she watched her siblings all pile into the van—without her. She was reminded of picking teams in gym class, and the sinking realization that she’d be the last one left. Except this time, there was no team left to join. And she felt so small. She wished she could fade into the shadows, into nothingness, where nothing and no one could hurt her again.

She felt a familiar presence at her side as a warm hand slid into her own. Kira gripped it tight, blinking back tears as Anna squeezed once to let her know she was with her. No matter how dark a corner Kira retreated to, Anna would always find her. She was always the light to lead her out.

“They all SUCK,” Anna proclaimed, her bravado cracking only slightly. Kira nodded, wiping a traitorous tear from her heated face as she watched the mystery man hand the envelope to her father once more. The man turned away from her parents and started walking towards the Altman home. Kira’s mother was muttering something to her father as he pulled her towards the van, her eyes never leaving Kira’s face. And then, her father paused, taking in a deep breath and balled his hands into fists.

Kira had witnessed her father’s anger far too many times. She recognized the rigid set of his shoulders and the veins that popped in his neck as rage welled within him. So, when her father turned on his heels and started to rush the tall, aristocratically thin man, she wasn’t surprised. But when the mystery man stopped cold and enormous, red leathery wings sprung from his back that knocked her father to the ground—well, she was surprised then.

Kira heard distant screams and sobbing as her father crashed to the ground and cowered beneath the winged man. Her father stared at the wings with abject terror that Kira knew all too well. A hexagonal pattern of a bathroom tile flashed before Kira’s eyes at the thought. She gripped the edge of the door frame and flinched as the ghost of some painful memory echoed in her mind.

The winged man didn’t even bother to turn around, but instead, he tilted his head towards Kira’s father as he spoke calmly, “You have shown yourself to be the kind of man who would sell his own daughter, now you would be the kind to renege on a deal?” The man’s wings twitched slightly at the thought. “You are already beneath my concern, do not become beneath my contempt.”

Kira looked between her cowering father and this winged man and felt a sick satisfaction warm her face. He deserved it. The winged man turned and resumed his calculated walk towards the house, while her father scrambled back on his hands and feet to Kira’s mother. She hoisted him up by the shoulders, and they raced to the van and peeled out of the driveway in record time, leaving the memory of their daughter in the rearview mirror.

“Good riddance,” Anna and Kira muttered in unison, each letting out a relieved, weary sigh. Kira turned her attention to the man with the wings as he approached, and tried to make sense of what was happening. He came looking for her. He made the monsters go away, and he kept her safe. For some reason, she mattered to him. She was important to him.

The man’s hazel eyes found her own, watching him and his red wings with fascination. And to both of their surprise, she did not wither beneath his stare. Instead, she straightened her back and matched his gaze. She felt the corner of her mouth twitch into a small grin as a truth resonated deep in her bones—this was home. And for the first time in as long as she could remember, she didn't feel so small anymore. She felt safe.

This is part two in a canonical short story written by Lauren Johnson. The events take place before the events of the Cover Story Campaign.

[monstersplaybook]

Homecoming: Pt. 1

The horizon glowed with the familiar, soft orange hue of dawn. Rousing melodies of blackbirds and robins filled the air with their morning calls. Kira winced, wishing they would shut up as she tiptoed outside of her family’s modest home. The last thing she needed was for him to wake up. With practiced carefulness, she shut the faded green door behind her and breathed a sigh of relief as the sleeping households lining the street remained silent.

Kira crossed the cracked driveway to her family’s mailbox, her bare feet appreciating the uncharacteristic coolness of the blacktop beneath her. The Altman family mailbox was comically askew and had been ever since some drunken teenager struck it with his oversized Bonneville two years ago. Kira pulled open the rusted, mailbox door and clenched her teeth as it let out a harsh screech. Snatching the bundled newspaper stuffed inside she promptly closed the door once more and held her breath for several moments.

“Yikes,” Kira heard a familiar young voice say under its breath. Whipping her head around she spotted the unmistakable figure of a ten-year-old girl with long, dark hair and a mischievous grin on her face, nearly identical to her own.

“What the heck, Anna?” Kira hissed, clutching the rolled-up newspaper to her side. “You scared me.” Anna offered an exaggerated shrug before a wry smile touched her features once more.

“I scared you?” Anna cocked her head to the side, fixing Kira with a bemused stare. “Ha, that’s a good one. You’ll have to explain how THAT works, since you know, I’m always here.” She pointed to her head for emphasis before turning her attention to the rough asphalt beneath her and began leaping over a series of deep cracks splitting the driveway. She started humming a tune that sounded suspiciously like the don’t step on a crack, or you’ll break your mother’s back game.

“Whatever. Just be quiet, ok?” Kira asked with a sigh.

“Aye aye, captain.” Without paying her much attention, Anna offered her a two-fingered salute that ordinarily would have prompted a chuckle from Kira. But not today. She ignored her, and instead parked herself beneath the towering oak tree on her family’s front lawn where she unfolded the daily newspaper. Her ever-curious, chestnut eyes immediately zoned in on the date – August 4, 2003.

Kira felt her shoulders slump as she stared unblinking at the date before her. She drew in a shaky breath in a poor attempt to alleviate the dull ache forming in her chest. She felt a presence suddenly at her side as Anna sat down in front of her, crisscross applesauce style.

“Oh, come on,” Anna called out to her in a gently mocking voice. “The news can’t be that terrible, can it?”

“Don’t.” Kira kept her gaze fixated on her lap, not trusting herself to remain calm if she saw the soft grin that was surely stretching across Anna’s face. A few seconds of terse silence stretched between them.

“Kira, I –”

“I said, don’t.” Although just ten years old, Kira’s voice held all the venom and weariness of someone much older. “Not today.”

Kira felt a pebble pelt her in the leg, inciting a small spark of anger within her. She looked up, prepared to shout, only to find Anna fixing her with an unwavering gaze full of warmth that chased all her blustering words away.

“Hey,” Anna began, a soft smile lighting her features. “You don’t need to be so sad. I know you were hoping that he would come for you by now. But, today’s still a good day.”

“How? It’s been three years, Anna.” Kira leaned forward, placing her head in her hands as her words filled the air. Somehow saying them made it worse. Three years to the day had passed since she had a vision of a man in an exquisitely tailored, pinstripe suit sitting in her “father’s” beat up Impala. She remembered how instead of a head he had a storm cloud, and how when he spoke his voice rumbled like distant thunder. But above all, she remembered his words and the promise he made to her that day: “That man is not your real father. I am. And soon, I will come for you to take you home.”

1,095 days had passed since then. And still, no one had come to take her from this miserable place and the monsters masquerading as parents. She hunched forward and felt her shirt slide up a few inches. Instinctively, she pulled it back down to hide the faded bruises. Sliding across the ground towards her, Anna joined Kira at her side.

“I know.” Anna nudged her lightly in the arm. “Your thunder dad might not be showing up today, but that’s not the only important thing that happened three years ago.” Kira watched Anna’s excitement dim as she racked her brains for a reply. Far too many seconds passed by when the answer finally came to her.

“Oh,” Kira replied, feeling her stomach drop with the realization that she was the absolute worst person ever. “Of course.” Anna smiled at her with genuine warmth mixed with a tinge of sadness.

Three years ago, Anna appeared for the first time. Full of spunk, mischief, and a whole lot of heart. To call Anna her friend wouldn’t exactly cut it. And although they tended to bicker like siblings from time to time, they were not sisters precisely. Perhaps Anna had said it best – she was always there for Kira, especially when no one else was. She was a part of her after all, and for a second Kira forgot.

“Sorry it took me a second to remember,” Kira continued, apologetic. She wasn’t supposed to say swear words, but Kira definitely felt like an asshole for forgetting.

“Meh.” Anna waved a hand through the air. “Water under the bridge.” She fixed her with a playful stare before rising to her feet. “You’ll just have to spend the rest of the day making it up to me is all.” Her eyes glinted with delight as Kira let out an exasperated sigh. Kira rose to her feet as well, just as the first beam of sunlight crested over the steep road, casting its light upon the sleeping neighborhood.

“Oh, is that so?” Kira asked, placing her hands on her hips and feeling a smile tug at the corner of her mouth. She wondered what sort of crazy schemes her other side was concocting for today.

Anna beamed at her and gave one dramatic bob of her head, “Yuuup.”

“Ok, what’s it gonna be this time?” Kira shook her head, imagining all the antics Anna had brewing in that mind of hers – or rather, theirs. Before Anna had a chance to reply, however, the distant hum of a car engine approached from the opposite side of the steep hill up the road. Kira exchanged a look with Anna, cocking an eyebrow in bewilderment. It was the weekend. Who on earth would be driving into the neighborhood at this hour?

A moment later, a black Lincoln Town Car emerged at the top of the hill and began its descent towards them. Retreating a few steps back, Kira and Anna took cover behind the large oak tree, watching the car draw ever closer. As it approached their driveway, the car slowed before coming to a controlled stop.  

“What do you think they’re here for?” Anna wondered, whispering in Kira’s ear as they surveilled the car. “What’s their story?” Making up stories for random passersby was something of a hobby of theirs. The stories they would come up with were usually a bit out there, and at times quite intricate.

“Maybe it’s the mob, and they’re coming to settle a score with someone. Except they got the wrong address,” Kira replied, not taking her eyes off the vehicle.

Anna snorted, “Nice.” She screwed up her face as her mind raced to come up with some ludicrous story. “Well, I think they’re members of some monster-hunting team. You know, like Men in Black, and they’re here to capture a shapeshifter that’s been masquerading as a human.” She paused for a moment considering something. A grin brightened her face as she continued, “You know, it’s probably Mrs. Hawkins from three doors down. No sane person has THAT many cats.”

Now it was Kira’s turn to snort, “She does have a lot of cats.” She shifted her gaze to witness the spark of creative genius that frequently lit up Anna’s eyes. Sure enough, it was there, causing Kira to shake her head with begrudging respect. Anna’s stories were always better.

A shadow passed over Anna’s face as another, darker thought crossed her mind. “Or maybe…” she trailed off, turning her gaze towards the Altman house. Kira cocked an eyebrow, looking between Anna and her family’s home as she heard the soft pop of a car door opening.

A female driver built like a postal carrier emerged from the Lincoln, smoothing back her dull grey hair before opening one of the rear doors. Stepping out from the vehicle was a tall, aristocratically thin man wearing an exquisite, three-piece suit. His whole color scheme reminded Kira of a stylish, walking bruise, as he absentmindedly buttoned up his deep purple jacket and straightened his pale, yellow tie. Kira exchanged a look with Anna. They were almost certainly thinking the same thing. No one this well-dressed ever stepped foot on their property.

“Who do you think that is?” Anna whispered as the man strode purposefully towards the front door. “The dudes got a pocket square. A pocket square!”

Kira didn’t answer, swallowing the numerous words flooding her mind. She took in a deep breath, trying to temper the dangerous emotion filling her heart. But maybe this time, she was right to hope. Only once had she seen someone dress so ostentatiously. She knew in her bones that she would see them someday. And they made a promise to her 1,095 days ago.

This is a canonical short-story that takes place before the events of The Cover Story campaign.

[monstersplaybook]

BFF of the pod Sarah got Jonny exactly what he's always wanted for Christmas: a moody portrait of Lincoln/Ramsey at work. We can't stop looking at it! 💜🤩

[monstersplaybook]

Oh don't mind us, we're just admiring another amazing piece of fan art from our listener @doggogills. Ain't she cute? 😍

[monstersplaybook]

Welcome to the setting of our Patreon-exclusive mini-series "Blades of Brickwall"!

With districts named "Shit City" and "Over There" you might get a sense of what life is like down in the depths of Brickwall and why the thieves Ace, Echo, and Wicker are so eager to climb the ranks of Brickwall's messy social ladder.

Catch the first two parts of our series on our main feed. And subscribe to our Patreon for the full series:

[monstersplaybook]

Gah we just love our little Quatraile. Just look at her! 💜

my favorite girl from my favorite podcast!

that's right it's @monstersplaybook again!

[monstersplaybook]

Ahhh love our boy Mark! Thanks for the wonderful fan art! 🔥❤️🙏

I am back with propaganda for @monstersplaybook

[monstersplaybook]

"Hi, I'm Quatraile!" There are several new characters to meet this season but none are quite as perplexing as our four-winged friend from There. We can't wait to learn more about what her whole deal is.

[monstersplaybook]

Aww thank you so much for listening and for the great list of LGBT pods to check out. Can confirm there are some absolute gems on there. ❤️

okay listen. i love jrwi, i really do. i love riptide and prime defenders, and the community has been pretty good, i have a lot of mutuals that are super cool. but the attitude and ferocity in which people defend the lgbt rep in the show? mh. not it.

podcasts as a medium have been incredibly full of queer creators making wonderful stories, including ttrpgs. especially ttrpgs!!! most of jrwi’s lgbt rep has been behind a paywall (and that was a joke for 90% of the series), or a joke (i’m looking at you fnc canon kiss), and the rest is vaguely implied. correct me if i’m wrong on this, i’m not caught up. i don’t really care about what the folks say off mic about characters, to be quite honest. there has been little indication of the actual queerness of characters in any form beside an npc who wasn’t even fully created by the showrunners. and that is my point. the lgbt stuff that people latch onto are things that have either been questions answered off mic, or things that the fan community has expanded upon that were only hinted at in canon, or just headcanoned.

im not saying that this is wrong, or the series is bad because of it, but the attitude that the fandom has towards it is… a lot for what is actually there on screen in earnest. it’s not the most lgbt podcast with fantastic rep that you say it is. there are so many podcasts with the kind of representation and characters that you are looking for. again, it’s not a bad podcast because of this, but we’ve gotta stop acting like it’s queer as hell.

so here are some podcasts with fully fleshed out, explicitly queer characters (with their corresponding vibe):

Dungeons & Daddies (s1: riptide, s2: pd)

The Broadswords (apotheosis)

All My Hexes (admittedly unfinished but still good)

A Horror Borealis (bitb)

Bombarded (riptide)

Fantasy High (of course) (pd)

Wildbranch High (pd)

Kollok 1991 (pd, bitb)

Monster Hour (s1: pd, kinda apotheosis)

$2 Creature Feature (pd)

Dice Crisis (riptide)

Hope’s Hearth (i haven’t started this one yet, but it’s on my list)

The Storyteller Squad (pd)

Dangerous Times at Chillhaven High (soooo much pd vibes)

Shrimp and Crits (bitb)

Pest Control (s1: riptide but modern, s2: early pd)

The Unexplored Places (they have many seasons, i can rant about them for hours tbh)

The Monster’s Playbook (pd, kinda bitb)

and that’s just the actual plays

again, i love jrwi, but we have got to stop hailing it as an exemplar of lgbt actual play podcasts because it just isn’t.

[monstersplaybook]

This is becoming a @doggogills fanart appreciation blog and I am here for it! This latest piece is of Echo the Whisper from our Patreon-exclusive Blades in the dark mini campaign.

[monstersplaybook]

Spoilers for Season 2 epilogue...

Our listener @doggogills is keeping us alive with their steady stream of fan art. And this latest piece is just... gah! Dianna shippers eat your hearts out. 😍

[monstersplaybook]

Aww heck! It’s our favorite high guy who’s not alive. Thanks @doggogills for the lovely art. 😍

for the second time i’ll say listen to @monstersplaybook

they’ve got my favorite stoner fella there

[monstersplaybook]

New fan art! 😍 Thanks so much to our newest listener @abbeycatabbey for this awesome fan art of our boy Mark feeling just a little bit haunted during the Duluth arc. I'm sure everything is fine!

[monstersplaybook]

Glass Marbles & Paper Fortunes

A short story written by Miah Detjen

The day is beautiful. A cool breeze, a few passing clouds and the happy chatter of kids on the playground. A boy of ten sits alone, playing in the grass with some pebbles and watching the other children play. Marching up to him in a dirt-stained pink dress, a girl of a similar age plops down next to him. 

“Um, hello?” He says timidly. 

“Hi.” Her bottom lip is formed into a big pout. A purple, plastic My Little Pony backpack hangs off her shoulders. “What are you doing?” 

“Um, well, I’m playing marbles…” 

“But those aren’t marbles.” 

“I know-“ He begins but is cut off as the girl suddenly pulls her backpack off, digs in it and takes out a small glass jar of marbles. It rattles satisfyingly and catches the light.

“THESE are marbles.”

“Whoa… That’s a lot of marbles…”

“Yeah. But, most of these were collected by my brother and he gave them to me. They’re ok.” 

“Ok? They’re beyond ok. Look!” And the boy points at a green and blue swirled marble, “That one looks SO cool. Kinda like a trapped ocean.”

“Huh. I never really thought about it like that…” The little girl lifts the jar, examining the marble.

“Yeah! And that one, it looks like a galaxy!”

Looking closer at the jar, the little girl’s frown transforms into wonder. “You’re right. I’ve never looked at them like that.” Unscrewing the top, she dumps the marbles into the grass amongst his pebbles. “Look at this one!” 

“Ooo, yeah, that one is cool.” He plucks a different marble from the pile, “This one looks like a fire is trapped inside it.”

“Yeah! This one looks like it has toothpaste inside it!” The two giggle and ogle at the collection of marbles. “I’m Casey. What’s your name?”

“I’m Mark. Did you say that your brother gave you these marbles? That was really nice of him.” The little boy is smiling as he examines the colorful marbles. Casey makes a face and starts to put the marbles back into the jar. “Oh…” Mark watches her a moment before speaking up, “What’s wrong?”

The little girl huffs. “Nothing.”

“Then why are you putting the marbles away? I was looking at them.”

“I don’t want to look at them anymore.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. They’re really neat…”

“No, they’re not.” She screws the lid back on the jar and shoves it back into her backpack, then pulls out a notebook and handful of colored pens. “Do you know what a fortune teller is?”

“Um, no?” He watches, quizzically, as the young blonde pigtailed girl proceeds to rip a piece of paper from her notebook and folds it, color and write on it. “What are you doing?”

“Making a paper fortune teller. Well, Milk Face Melissa calls it a cootie catcher, but that sounds stupid.”

“Why do you call her Milk Face Melissa?”

Casey pauses and looks up at Mark, as if he said her hair was brown and not blonde, “Because, one time, during lunch, she was drinking her milk and laughed so hard it came out her nose and went everywhere on her face. So they started calling her Milk Face Melissa.”

“Oh.”

“Ask me a question, Mark.” She holds out a strangely folded square contraption on her fingers. 

“Uh…”

“Come on.”

“Um, will it rain?”

“THAT’S what you want to ask the fortune teller?!”

“I don’t know what to ask it!”

Sighing and rolling her eyes, “How about, will we be friends? Pick a color.”

“Blue.”

“Ok, blue. B-L-U-....”

“E.”

“Yeah, I know…” Casey moves the folded paper box on her fingers at the mention of each letter. “Now, pick a number.” 

“Hmmm, 15.”

She counts and moves the paper at each number until finally stopping and pulling open the flap of paper. Reading it aloud, “No doubt!” She looks up at Mark, beaming. He too is staring in wonder and grins. 

“Ooo! Ok, let me ask it a question!” 

The two children giggle and ask the paper fortune teller question after question amongst the grass and pebbles until the recess bell rings.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Mark!” A young girl with ripped jeans and a soccer jersey thumps down into the empty cafeteria chair next to a young boy reading a library book, almost spilling his drink. 

“Casey! Careful!” He moves his drink away from the overly excited girl.

“I’m sorry, but check out this cool new fortune teller I made!” She shoves a colorful and glittery folded paper in front of him. “Ask a question!”

“Hmmm,” He closes his book, “Will I make millions and millions of dollars?”

“Really Mark?” Casey rolls her eyes, but smirks, “Alright, pick a color.”

“Uh, the sparkly pink color.” Casey moves the folded paper, revealing four numbers of varying ranges. “3.” She moves the contraption again before reading the answer to his question. Clearing her throat dramatically, 

“The answer is clouded.”

“Casey.”

“What? The fortune teller has spoken! Here, let me try.” Holding the folded paper respectfully between them, “Oh Fortune Teller made of Paper!”

“Casey,” Mark looks around the cafeteria, embarrassed as they get some glances, “Can’t you be normal?”

She giggles, “No, you have to ask it your question dramatically and purposefully for it to come true.”

He sighs, “You’re ridiculous.”

Quieting down a little, she continues, “Tell me, should Mark Clayton give me--- What did you bring for lunch today?”

“Uh, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and some carrots?”

“What kind of jelly?”

“Strawberry?”

“Should Mark Clayton give me half of his sandwich?”

“Hey!”

“Shhhh, the fortune teller is working.” Her fingers move the paper quickly back and forth between positions before opening and revealing the answer. “Ah ha! It would be wise to do so! Pay up, Mark.” 

The boy sighs, pulling his lunch bag from his backpack, and Casey does the same. Unfolding neatly prepared sandwiches, Casey and Mark swap halves. “If you don’t like your dad’s tuna salad sandwiches, why don’t you tell him to make you PB&Js? I’d like to have a day where I get my sandwich all to myself.”

“Do you not like my dad’s tuna salad sandwiches?”

“No, they’re fine, but-”

“Then I’m not going to tell him to stop. They’re fine.” Casey takes a bite out of her newly acquired sandwich. Mark watches her a moment, confused, but sighs; he knows better than to start a fight with Casey Davis. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The sun is setting in the sky after soccer practice. Most of the other girls are gone, but one remains, laying in the grass and staring up at the clouds. Her face is wet from a mixture of water, sweat and…. 

“Casey?”

She rubs the sleeve of her shirt against her face before sitting up. “Oh, hey Mark.” 

“You were supposed to meet me fifteen minutes ago at the McDonalds. What happened?”

“Practice ran late. We just got done. Sorry.” 

The teenage boy sits down next to her, “How are you doing?” 

“Mark.” 

He sighs, frustrated, “I can’t ask you how you are? I’m your friend, aren’t I?” She stays quiet, not looking at him. Mark pulls his backpack off his shoulder and unzips it, taking out a paper fortune teller, “I made a new fortune teller.”

“I’m not really in the mood, Mark.”

“Oh, come on. All those times that you forced me to put up with YOUR fortune tellers? Humor me. One last time…” 

Casey sniffles, “Fine.”

A moment passes. “You’ve gotta ask a question to find out your fortune, Case.”

“Will we stay friends?” Neither of the teenagers look at one another, staring down at the fortune teller. It is frozen. “Well?” Casey asks softly, risking a glance up at the boy. 

“Well, you gotta pick a color first…”

“Blue.”

Mark moves the paper folds, spelling out the color with each movement. “Which number?”

“15.” The fwap fwap fwap sound of the paper hangs in the air as the toy moves. Casey pulls her knees to her chest, watching intensely as Mark pulls open the flap. “What does it say?”

He sees the words, Don’t count on it. Looking up at his friend who is eagerly, but nervously waiting for their fortune, he smiles, “It’s your destiny.” Her shoulders relax and she tries to reflect his smile. “Don’t know why you’re so worried. You’re not moving to another state! We can still see each other.”

“Yeah. We can…”

“And I’m sure you’ll make the team and you’ll probably play against my school, so I’ll see you when you play against us.”

“Yeah.” Silence stretches. The two teens look everywhere else but each other. A Gremlin pulls into the parking lot, honking twice. “My dad’s here.” Casey gathers her duffle bag and backpack. Mark watches her quietly. Before leaving, “Oh! I can’t believe I almost forgot, I have something for you.” Casey reaches into her backpack, pulling out a small glass jar filled with marbles. “I want you to have this.”

“What? Why?”

“Ha, what do you mean why? You loved these marbles more than I did.”

“I can’t take all of these, Casey.” He unscrews the jar, digging into the marbles until he finds the one he was rummaging for, “Here.” He hands her a simple clear glass marble with a few purple and blue swirls, “Keep this one. It was your favorite.” Forcing it into her hand, he screws the lid back on and stuffs it into his backpack. 

They both force a smile on their young faces. 

“Stay out of trouble Mark Clatyon...”

“Kick some butt Casey Davis...”

[monstersplaybook]

Looking back at this illustration John made for E.A.R.S., one of the original organizations from our game (of which we have LOTS).

Extranormal Analysis and Reconnaissance Society (EARS), is an intelligence agency dedicated to stopping supernatural mysteries. They are a shadowy organization with expansive resources and significant authority in the supernatural world.

You can learn more about them and the other orgs in our game on our Wiki:

[monstersplaybook]

Oh my 😍. We are OBSESSED with this fan art from our listener @doggogills featuring the most wholesome trio: Kira, Tommy, and Theo. Seriously, look how cute they are!