#maybe. i can assign them.....cryptids? instead?

[itsbrucey]

Thinking about potential monsters for the S3 cast,,, need them to drop the 2nd episode so I can analyze.

[sitp-recs]

Hi Liv, I loved the hidden gem list that you did in the past. I discovered so many new authors thanks to you. I love going back to my all time favourite authors but I also love discovering new ones. Would you or any of your followers have any hidden gems recs ? Could be long or short fics. Thank youuuu

I’m so happy to hear that! The hidden gems series is very dear to my heart and probably my favorite project. I started a s2 back in 2022 and have a few lists saved in my drafts, maybe I will revisit them in the new year… we’ll see! I found some additional rec posts that might interest you here, here and here. I haven’t read much this year, but if you’re looking for new-ish works I’d highly recommend the fics below, and also my reclist for the h/c fest. I’m sure my followers have more recs. Enjoy! 💜

Train Song by @fw00shy (T, 1.2k)

"Imagine: An extended summer vacation," Ginny said when she first pitched the trip to the group. "Fine," Hermione said after only a moment's hesitation, to which everyone cheered, because everyone knew she was the only one who could figure out how to make the Hogwarts Express fly.

All I Think About by @skeptiquewrites (T, 4.5k)

Sometimes all it takes is one perfect late summer night in June.

mind the gap by @cavendishbutterfly (E, 5k) - MCD

The first time Draco died was by far the worst. Once Potter started living with him, it got better.

everything you should say by icarusinflight (E, 7.5k)

They're not friends. But when Draco offers help, Harry takes it.

Tarry, Tarry, Wait For Me by @toomuchplor (E, 8.5k)

"I can't ask it of you," Draco says, quick and awkward, "I just thought you should know, I thought you needed to know, but none of this is your fault."

Seasons by @greattemptation (E, 9k)

Seconds pass, and it’s like he can see Draco worrying the sliver of glass in his heart, looking for a way to press it out, to expose the wound to the sun. It’s life; Harry can be patient.

Necro-romance by @thehoneybeet (E, 9k)

The first time Draco kills Potter, it's by accident.

like a scratch on the roof of your mouth by @eleadore (E, 9k)

Two weeks into the new year, Draco Malfoy saves Ron's life in a spectacular fashion.

coyote ugly by @garagepaperback (E, 10k)

One night, every month, Harry is a coyote. Malfoy has a silver tooth. Sometimes, he cuts Harry’s hair.

draco malfoy's substitute murder service by @oknowkiss (E, 10k)

When Harry joins the Curse Breakers shortly after his twenty-fifth birthday, he’s surprised to find himself assigned to the Department of Creatures, Cryptids, and Associated Calamities.

When the Flood Comes by @academicdisasterfic (E, 10k)

Nine years on from the war, Auror Potter is upholding the Ministry of Magic's rule of law. Senior legal counsel Draco Malfoy is challenging it.

Wobble Week 2023 by @moonflower-rose (E, 12k)

Potter can't keep his hands off himself. Draco can't look away.

With Hands Full of Dusk by @corvuscrowned (E, 15k)

Harry thought he'd found what he was searching for after the war. But as the quiet life he's earned begins to unravel at the seams, he finds himself searching instead for an elusive, mythical creature found only in lore and legend - with none other than Draco Malfoy as his companion.

Rich Friend by @sorrybutblog (E, 18k)

As far as Harry can tell, Draco Malfoy is still rich as hell. He’s just not a wizard anymore. Featuring: Draco Malfoy trying to make it as a Muggle pop star, Harry Potter as our confused and horny hero, bad driving, good music, and the mysterious magic of falling for someone.

Waking Up Slow by @sweet-s0rr0w, @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm (E, 22k)

'Twas the night before Christmas, although it’s July / Draco’s a shopkeeper, no-one knows why / There’s hiking and witch caves, freak snowfalls and more / Bad Christmas jumpers, nosy neighbours galore / Narcissa’s here too, but… something’s amiss / And what’s in those chocolates that’s making them kiss?

Sun Thief by BlackRose532, @floydig (E, 28k)

Or: Harry beats up a pimp and isn’t sorry about it, Draco deals black market potions, and they’re shagging. Again.

Truth to Materials by lately, @toomuchplor (E, 54k)

In which Harry learns to appreciate art and other pleasures of the flesh.

[indecisive-dizzy]

Alright the Gravity Falls brain rot is kicking in (aka I watched a 4hr video overanalyzing ATOTS <3 iykyk)

So have a loosely thought out concept of a hypothetical Welcome Home x Gravity Falls au with my "Hear me out!"s This is a long one, you've been warned <3

Wally - Dipper

Sally - Mabel

Julie - Stanley

Frank - Stanford

Eddie - Soos

Barnaby - Wendy

Poppy - Abuelita

Howdy - Gideon

Home - Bill???

Ok hear me out! (under the cut) Please ignore typos <3

Very quick clarification! For this au everyone is at least in their teens and I'm gonna add their ages as I elaborate. Ok? Ok!

Gonna Start with Poppy and Eddie. In this hypothetical au Poppy is Not Eddie's grandmother. Originally I thought of assigning Poppy the role of Lazy Susan but I wanted her to have a closer connection to the rest of the cast. And Abuelita fit the role well enough for me! She's just a sweet homebody who wants to knit and bake in peace. Eddie tells her all about work and Wally and Sally visit. <3

So Poppy and Eddie live together as Roommates/Family. Poppy took Eddie in as a teen (16ish) when she was in her early 20s (22-23?) He views her as a big sister. And she views him as a little brother. Anxiety siblings <3 (yes I hc Eddie has anxiety) Eddie started working for the shack soon after being taken under Poppy's wing. He's a tad forgetful and clumsy but is a very reliable handy man and a good friend! He's got a big heart and worries about Julie sometimes.

Currently, as in the time the au takes place, Eddie is 24 and Poppy is 30-31.

Julie and Frank would in fact make a Fantastic Mabel and Dipper. Tbh I think I've seen the comparison before. Which is exactly why I'm not doing it! They're not twins here but they are childhood friends and very close in age, Frank being slightly older. Currently, Julie is 57(?) and Frank is 58(?). (Ages aren't confirmed, all I know is I want them to be A Bit younger than the Stans. Currently this would put them in their late 20s at the time of the portal incident)

I feel like people sometimes forget that Frank is not against resorting to violence lol. Which is great for post portal Ford (and maybe Paranoia era Ford. bbg was not afraid to use that crossbow.) And Julie is a girl bossing business woman! She's scamming people selling breen to the tourists! Whatever that is! Tbh Big inspo for this decision is Relativity Falls, like I said these two make for great mystery twins.

So! Wally (15) as a teenage Dipper! It's just Wally but his curiosity is bumped to 100. Still the same lil guy but he's got a hyperfixation on the supernatural and cryptids. Maybe he hasn't quite figured out his style yet, maybe he's a bit more awkward, I dunno.

He kinda didn't want to spend his summer here but ends up enjoying himself as he makes friends and gets to over indulge his curiosity.

Sally (15) is Wally's adopted sister! By sheer coincidence they have the same birthday but Sally always points out that she's older because she was "born at sunrise!" She's very adventurous and is often the one leading their escapades. I imagine she meets this aus equivalent of Candy and Grenda at the local theater. Very much wants to be her own person, separating herself from the Adopted Twins thing. Not in a bad way! She loves Wally very much but wants people to see her as Sally! Not just "Wally's Sister."

Barnaby (22) is very laid back and so is Wendy. Yeah I don't actually have a lot to say? Um. He does the bare minimum work but is a good friend to Julie. He's real observant and can tell she's not always as bubbly as she seems But she's also his boss so he doesn't pry. Instead just offering a distraction or a rare bit of advice..

Oh! There's a parallel with him and Wally and Wendy and Dipper. Except Wally just wants to be friends with Barnaby but doesn't quite know how to communicate that. Maybe he just kinda follows him around the shack hoping to figure out what to say?

Thinking their relationship is literally the recent quote from Clown's Q&A: "Barnaby meeting Wally felt like business as usual, and Wally meeting Barnaby felt like meeting the whole world." yeah that's it. Sums it up Perfectly <3 Wally thinks Barnaby is really cool and friendly. And he wants a friend who treats him like he's mature. Like he's 15, not 5. And Barnaby does that right out the gate. Calls him kid but obviously doesn't treat him like a small child.

Ahem. Capitalism. Howdy's (21) a filthy capitalist and wants the shack for Profit. I don't think he'd resort to literal breaking and entering to get the deed? Can't make Profit from jail if he gets caught. But he's definitely trying to buy the property off of Julie. Maybe we stray further from Gravity Falls canon and say he gets an early redemption bc I'm a sucker for this goof. It would be sometime after taking the shack (and losing it.) Oh but he does summon the Evil. Can't break the law if the law doesn't account for Interdimensional Demons!

On that note, Yes Howdy could be Stanley. But again. That's the easy way out! Also in my brain that would make,, idk Barnaby? Ford. And I couldn't do that.

Ok final (wh) character. Home. So I'm on the side of Home Isn't Evil/The Antagonist. He's just a guy (house)! A sassy fella! But someone's gotta be the Eldritch Horror and Unfortunately, Home,,, well he's a lil quirky!

But idk How to incorporate Home. They speak in onomatopoeias! They're a house! Is Home now a Vague 2D House Shaped Demon? Do the have Limbs? Wear a top hat? Do they talk now? Home speaking words feels cursed. But I genuinely don't what else to do? Maybe we suspend our disbelief and they still talk through banging shutters. Everyone just understands them bc Cartoon logic pffff maybe they have subtitles projected into your brain that only you can see idk lol.

So obviously there's Way more GF characters than there are WH characters. insert characters [(y/n)] aren't my thing for aus so that's a no go for me personally. I imagine the town is filled with characters we've heard of outside the neighbors (Ma Beagle of course lives in town.) Maybe some of Howdy's family is here who knows. And the rest would be randos or ocs I guess! Tho I don't believe Julie's siblings are in town.

Anywho this is all hypothetical and I made it up and retyped things as I went along. I wanted to ramble some nonsense so I did! If you read it, Awesome! You sure did that!

[nightbirdbliss]

Ramble, rant, fun facts, ideas, anythin you wanna yap about

OH MY GOD OKAY AHEM

I'm gonna talk so, SO, so much about this. (I think. I have time to kill, so hey. Why not? Let's see how long I take. It's 9:38 right now.)

So I'm gonna talk about my OCs Aspen Burkholder and Riley Blaine. I guess with that comes their ship, Monster Energy but UH! I'M GONNA! GET INTO THIS INSTEAD!!

(TW: drug mention, familial death, dysfunctional family, divorce, BELOW THE CUT!)

Both of them stemmed from when I was really into That Handsome Devil. Like, brainrotting. I think if I assigned the two albums, Aspen would be "The Heart Goes to Heaven, The Head Goes to Hell" and Riley "Drugs & Guns for Everyone". I have specific songs in mind, but alas, I'm linda tired.

Anyway onto uhhh who did i list first..

RIGHT, ASPEN!!

Aspen's pronouns are She/They/It

So basically, Aspen is just a very scared and (mildly?) cursed teen. Aspen was cursed by a cursed book that presented itself as a diary/journal type thing, y'know? They wrote in it to cope, but the book pulled a Tom Riddle's diary (yeesh, little me would have gone crazy over that!) and started to write back.

It sloooowly took over their mind, and in the end told them if they wanted all the power of the book that they had to hurt the people hurting them. Of course, a moody and desperate teen would do just about anything to escape their hell, right? Aspen, blinded by the book's curse ended killing their parents (they're an only child) and becoming the monster they are. It's a physical representation of the monstrous things they did for the power.

To put it short, they are the monster almost permanently. They can change into a human form, but they can switch into the monster form as fast as their emotions switch. They flee into the woods behind their house, going missing for.. about a year and a half? Dunno, long enough for some hunters to see them and try to shoot them slash have them become local legend/cryptid type thing???

Let's switch gears and talk about Riley.

Riley's pronouns are She/He/They

Riley is the oldest child. Rebellious and headstrong, they're constantly in arguments or hiding from them at home.

Their parents are separated.

They can seemingly never catch a break, because even at school they're getting picked on for being different.

Don'tcha just *LOVE* bigots? /sar

Other than the dysfunctional and broken household, they had a mostly alright upbringing.

Okay, together now.

Aspen and Riley met in 6th grade after having been put in the same class. They were inseparable friends in middle school and their freshman year of high school, when they took each other to homecoming. (awwh!) When Aspen up and vanished, Riley was heartbroken. She looked all over for them, but never did find them. Well, until they were scouring the woods as an attempt to connect with Aspen, wherever they were.

Aspen found him, but Riley had nooooo clue who it was. They were terrified of Aspen. After a long discussion of what's all happened, Riley embraced Aspen. This caught the monster off guard, expecting Riley to hate them. Riley does know what Aspen did isn't right, but understands the headspace and tries to help Aspen get back into civilized society.

Aspen now has therapy.. and maybe the government asking to take them.. for "science" reasons..

But anyway they're back together and they love each other still :3

yeah lore dropped ouh woohoo. it's 10:06.

fun facts?

aspen likes really likes car trips, and sometimes acts feral

riley knows all aspen's quirks at this point, and 100% teases them.

hope this suffices. if not. ask this question again i'll definitely yap about some other ocs :]

[rayshippouuchiha]

(Have some more building for Plot, Vigilante-to-Underground Hero, I was thinking on it so I share. Borrow, break it, use as you please.)

The Underground Heroes are desperate not stupid, so they do investigate the Vigilantes before they start pulling them into trying out apprenticeships. However, they are desperate so the investigation is more on “what have you done” and “is it showing tolerable behavior” verses “who the hell are you and where do you come from” so somethings fall through the cracks a bit.

They’re focusing on the prolific vigilantes, the ones who are known for working long hours, who are good at avoiding too much notice, who already do a decent job but maybe need a little polish, and haven’t gone on murder sprees. So they assume anyone treating it like either a job or a second job, are adults. Perhaps on the younger side of university graduates, but adults all the same.

(The Underground only cares about Quirks to help assign personnel on specialist operations for extra oomph. Otherwise they care more if you can do the job correctly than if you have a suitable Quirk.)

Izuku hears about the recruitment pitches being sprung on Vigilantes through the forums he lurks on, which is why when he’s approached one dark night halfway through a patrol run by an Underground hero he stays instead of bolts. He stays and knows exactly which law the near retirement age Hero is using to try and pull him into being an Apprentice, and eventually (potentially) an Underground Hero. Izuku knows, with slowly mounting excitement as he listens to the spiel that this is his chance, that he can finish his online High-school classes easily enough, that he can be a hero without having to first claw his way into a university program or fight the hero commission every step of the way as a solo act. The law in question, being so old and created in the early days of legalized heroics, means he can sign on without having to disclose anything personal if he doesn’t want to. Not a thing. Not his place of residence, not his legal name, not his age, not his Quirk. All he has to give is a dead drop for a notification of his death, and he’s had an auto forward email set up to alert his mom in the event he’s been missing for a week since he decided to be a Vigilante instead of an accidental Good Samaritan.

He’s sixteen and Quirkless and this is a job opportunity better than he was dreaming of. Sure he’s technically a little too young to accept but... apprenticeships are like being interns if a bit longer term. And they’re offering to pay in cash. Izuku isn’t an idiot he’s seen what his prospects as Quirkless are, and it’s grim. This is a path for his dream, he’s not gonna ever let it flee from him. Bring on the low sleep nights, he doesn’t need that much anyway. Izuku smiles beneath his mask, his goggles and hood hiding away the rest of his joyful reaction, and accepts the offer.

He’s not the only Vigilante who joins, but he’s one of the handful that stay. Most leave after a few months; when they can’t handle the depressing world of talking down jumpers, of the human suffering in trafficking cases, of the way they have to walk through drug dens with people blitzed out of their minds and willing to sell anything to keep themselves like that, back alley cruelty, the dead, and corruption everywhere that has to be approached from almost sideways instead of head on.

He’s a fast learner and is considered valuable backup for his fast reflexes and stamina. But the only things they know after a year is his call sign, his requirement for only four hours of sleep a day to be energized, and his very skilled analysis of quirks. It’s become a running joke that he’ll tell them his name and show his face when he gets his Underground Heroics License in his gloved hands and not an instant before. And even then some joke he might not show it at all until injury forces him, being the bouncy cryptid to Eraserhead’s exhausted one.

(He’s got the Apprentice Hero License , but you have to be an Underground Hero apprentice for three years to get an Underground Hero License unless you want to take an Exam. An Exam that requires you to disclose a lot of information about yourself to the Commission; Izuku will not do this no thank you.)

He’s Twenty-three when he has to show his face. Twenty-three and while the Heroics students and some Spotlight Heroes would age him up a bit from the stress marks Underground Heroics gave him, his Underground coworkers know what his age looks like beneath the stress. Which means he joined too young. They’re practical, but inside they scream baby, was a baby and we sent him on that type of mission when he should have still been a heroics student intern by age. They won’t reveal him, but now they’re wondering how they missed his youth.

Izuku dons his equipment and fades himself back into the Underground as backup and scout for anybody. Who needs recognition when he can save someone from the shadows instead.

He’s Shadow. He’s a Hero. It’s enough for him.

OOOhhhh YESSSSSSSSs

[mabeysomeclasspecting]

Hi, I was wondering if I could get classpected? I really love your analysis and I’m struggling with my own.

*I most often get heart, space, and void as quiz results (I have taken most existing aspect quizzes at least twice). I usually get mage, knight, and page on quizzes.

**this is essay length I’m really sorry about that

Hobbies/interests:

I really like my creative hobbies. More often than not I'm sewing, sculpting, drawing, etc. I also really enjoy those really long video essays on video games and such but I also listen to more political stuff when I can handle it. When my anxiety is less obnoxious I like to take walks in the middle of the night- I can go outside and be completely alone with my thoughts (and my maladaptive daydreaming lol). I do a lot of writing about fiction and only actually write fiction sometimes. Ideas are always more complete in my head and I can’t do them justice in meatspace. I do a lot of armchair philosophy but it’s all probably just something I regurgitate forgetting somebody else said it first and better. You will literally never see me without my earbuds in regardless if anything is playing in them. On that note I can’t play an instrument or compose or anything but I want music to swallow me whole like a snake.

Me about myself:

I think I’m weird but I don’t particularly care that I’m weird. I hate that other people think I'm weird and guilt me for having genuine interests? My self esteem isn’t great but as I’m getting better at being an adult I feel less like a fish flopping around on the floor. I feel like I’m never going to have a proper self concept because something is always changing and I can’t keep up with that. The self hatred is mental subtext instead of text, ya feel? I want to say something in a way only I can say it, like perfect a message in a way only my art could portray it. It would be a cool thing to have a legacy even though it’s totally meaningless. Like, if somebody thought about me the way I think about Toby Fox I’d feel like I succeeded. Local strider kinnie. All of the striders. Every iteration. In middle school I was obsessed with Dave and now (college) I'm obsessed with Dirk. It’s The Existentialism. Spice that with a little Jake English style social awkwardness. My problematic trait is thinking empathy is a conspiracy (I’m ((probably)) just on the spectrum). I have serious self-control issues and will eat a whole cake by myself. I reread homestuck in less than a month and barely managed to get my assignments in because I hyper fixated so hard.

Others about me:

When I was younger I was the scapegoat of my friend group, like the Tavros to someone else’s Vriska. Classic page behavior. Now that I’m older I’m mostly just super reserved because I got burned so bad I can’t take positive feedback. I have one friend who tells me that I’m super talented and cool and shit and I feel so weird about it. He’s not flirting with me or anything, he's just a genuinely good dude. I feel dirty and evil existing in his presence. I’ve also been described as a cryptid in the past. “Quiet and kind of scary until you open up then you’re unhinged” “Mad scientist” “Introverted artisan” (this person then called me out on “looking for that passing validation” and he was right but I hate it lmao) (the conversation has gone on and I am now realizing he is. Talking about trans shit,,,, which is also right and I hate it) (I’m literally going to copy paste this next one it’s too good) “You’re the type of dude that gets dragged on for the ride tho… the one that’s like ‘maybe we shouldn’t be breaking into a haunted house’ in the movies” “You’re not the Lame little piss baby that they drag around , you’re the one that’s there cuz someone wants to hand the white boy a blunt and see you take a large chuff” (oh my god he’s such a gem lol) “You’re still also a dork and I’ll probably still label you as gay boy mentally tho”

How I interact with people:

I keep forgetting I can’t just rely on my imaginary friends to meet my social needs so I go bug one or two people for a few weeks before I start feeling like it’s too risky because if I go too hard I'll burn out and hate them or something. If you know someone too well it’ll break any infatuation (platonic) you have with them. The thing with characters is that they learn and grow with you in your mind, like a family member that will only hate you if you’re having an off day. Tldr I’m scared of other people because intimacy and honesty about things is Not My Style. All of my secrets keep spilling out whenever somebody gives me crumbs and then I regret it and like. Soft ghost them? I recently ditched a group of friends and while I feel guilty about it I was in a kind of codependent relationship with one of them and I needed out. I tried to force myself to be more open and loving and shit but I was totally repulsed by myself and them by the end of it. Anyway if I could just like, have a good friend and feel comfortable with them and Mean It that would be pretty sweet. Unsure if I’m aromantic or just scared of vulnerability and commitment of any kind. I want to be helpful and cool and reciprocal to the people I care about but I feel like I’m lacking in anything I could use to help them- they always need something I can’t give them. When I help it starts coming off as patronizing.

What do i value:

My inner world is what’s keeping me alive. See in there I'm not really obligated to bend to expectations (which are usually pretty reasonable I think, I just don’t like them) and I can live out the fantasy of Being Loved without needing to be vulnerable. They’re in my head of course they know me I don’t need to tell them anything. Politics are important but I mostly listen to other people talk about it. I'm really burnt out with the state of the world. I think finding some kind of reason to live and love in the meaninglessness of it all is really really important, I'm just bad at it. I just kinda wanna live in the abstract and undefinable because everything is like that, but people have to put things into categories and words to understand them. Having a body to take care of and whatnot is a curse. I honestly forget I have one because i’m so zoned into whatever it is that I'm thinking about.

Ideal self:

In an ideal world I get over all of my pseudo intellectual bs and just like. Feel my feelings. Enjoy being with people and making little trinkets. I might actually be less aware of what other people think of me and I could just say things without feeling like every bit of it was silly or pointless. I would be able to accept positive feedback instead of thinking everybody was lying to me. I’d also understand on a fundamental level that other people are real, actual, intelligent beings and we just communicate very differently. If I could be comfortable in my place in the world and not panic because it doesn’t matter I’d celebrate that instead. Nothing matters but with sunglasses this time. In theory every little thing means something, but sometimes I don’t need to know what it means, Y’know? Knowing just puts more weight on my shoulders and makes me an anxious goddamn wreck. I would be able to take action without other people nagging me to do something with myself.

Bonus stuff that I think is relevant:

I’m scared shitless of most “voidy” stuff, like the dark and just like, the concept of oblivion. My worst fear is my mind completely slipping off into nothing. Caves, oceans, etc- they all scare me. I considered space for a long time because of my creativity but I literally have sensory processing disorder and while I think a space player who lacks spatial awareness is funny I don't think that’s all that viable. I think I have a lot of knight hallmarks but really I'm way too outwardly cowardly and self serving to think I deserve that title? Idk im just spitballing now i'm so sorry for ranting.

Thanks for reading my doomer bs - 🏳️‍⚧️🎃♊️

Hello! No need to apologize for the length, the more you tell me the more accurate I'll (hopefully) be :)

Aspects: Mind, Heart, Doom

Classes: Prince, Knight, Page, Mage

Out of these I think either Prince of Mind or Knight of Heart suits you best! But Page of Doom and Mage of Mind might be ones to consider too

I hope this was helpful! And I hope you're doing well :)

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 17

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

“We should get champagne or something, to celebrate,” Scully says, her eyes roving over the menu.

After three weeks of rehab, Teena Mulder has finally been able to move home, though she’s under the constant care of an in-home nurse. Knowing that she’s back in her own space, no longer the medical setting that made her miserable, is a huge weight off Mulder’s shoulders. This is why they’re out to dinner, celebrating a hopeful return to what feels like normal.

“Only if you’re driving home,” Mulder replies playfully, “you know what bubbly does to me.”

She gives him a flirtatious smirk. “Yes, I do.”

“Dana?” someone calls out, and they look over to see two women. One is tall and slim with light olive-toned skin and brunette shoulder-length hair. The other is significantly shorter, Latina, with thick hips and an ample bustline, her dark hair cascading down her back.

“Monica, hi,” Scully replies warmly to the tall woman. She turns to the shorter one, “you must be Dahlia.”

“Guilty as charged,” the short woman answers jovially with a heavy Spanish accent.

“This is my boyfriend, Fox Mulder,” Scully continues, gesturing to him, “Mulder, this is Monica, I’ve told you about her.”

Mulder nods in understanding. Scully has often mentioned a woman she regularly has coffee and lunch with who works in VICAP.

“Nice to finally meet you,” Mulder says, offering his hand to Monica.

She takes his hand with a firm grip, then gestures to the short woman, “this is my partner, Dahlia.”

Mulder and Scully both greet Dahlia with handshakes.

“Well, we’ll leave you to your meal, it was nice to run into you,” Monica says.

“Would you like to join us? We haven’t even ordered yet,” Scully offers, giving Mulder a quick glance to confirm that this is okay. He nods almost imperceptibly.

“Oh, we don’t want to impose,” Monica answers.

“Not at all,” Mulder jumps in, correctly picking up that Monica is worried about imposing on him, not Scully, “I’d love to finally get to know this mysterious VICAP woman Scully is always talking about.”

Monica smiles and he moves to the chair beside Scully so she and Dahlia can occupy the other two. They order champagne and appetizers, and he finds the two women to be very pleasant company.

“So, you work in VICAP too, then?” he asks Dahlia, and she gives him a confused look.

“No, I work at a little flower shop in Alexandria,” she answers.

“Oh, sorry, I thought Monica said you were partners.”

Scully shoots him an embarrassed glare, but Dahlia laughs.

“You know, I always tell Monica she should just call me her girlfriend, but she insists on ‘partner,’” she says, looking at Monica affectionately. He can’t help but smile, realizing he’d missed the very obvious fact that they are lovers.

“Girlfriend sounds so juvenile to me,” Monica explains, “partner feels a bit more serious, and permanent.”

“It’s okay, mija,” Dahlia continues, “you can call me your partner, hasta el día en que puedas ser mi esposa.”

Monica beams at her, and while he didn’t understand a word of that, it’s plainly clear that they are very much in love.

Appetizers come and go, flutes of champagne are emptied and refilled and a second bottle is ordered. Scully brings up Monica’s education and her experiences working at the New Orleans field office, and she and Mulder carry on a conversation about the change in VooDoo practices over the course of generations while Scully and Dahlia discover that they have similar taste in literature. Dahlia is telling a story about reading a Spanish translation of Jane Eyre as a teenager and how she still, to this day, has a hard time not calling him “Señor Rochester,” when the waiter brings by the check and Mulder snatches it away just as Dahlia was reaching for it.

“My treat,” Mulder says, pulling out his wallet.

Dahlia gives Monica a look, saying “me gusta este chico,” and Mulder chuckles.

“That I understood,” he quips, and they all laugh.

Back at the apartment, they get ready for bed. Scully is standing at the sink brushing her teeth when Mulder slinks up behind her, slipping his hands onto her hips and dipping his head down to kiss her neck.

“Mmm, there’s that champagne,” she says, the words garbled around her toothbrush.

“It’s not that champagne makes me want you, Scully. I always want you. It just makes me a little more bold,” he explains, trailing his fingers down to the hem of her night shirt and lifting it enough to get a look at her panties.

She swats his hand away. “Let me finish brushing my teeth,” she chastises, and he retreats to the bedroom.

She joins him a few minutes later, slipping under the sheets and draping her bare leg over his. He lifts his arm so she can burrow against his torso, her head on his chest. He rubs his hand across her back, eliciting a contented sigh.

“So, what did you think of Monica?” she asks, her fingertips on his ribcage moving in small circles.

“I really like her, I can see why you two hit it off,” he answers.

“She reminds me a little of you, actually,” she says, and he can feel her smile against his skin. “She has some...out there ideas.”

“Am I not talking enough about cryptids at home, Scully? You had to go find a friend to supplement?” he asks playfully, dipping his fingers into her armpit briefly in a threat to tickle her.

She clamps her arms against her sides and giggles. “We don’t talk much about that, but when I first met her she told me about my aura, so I figured you two would have some things in common.”

“That sounds more like Missy’s purview,” he comments, and then they fall silent for a moment.

“I’m actually really glad we ran into her,” Scully begins, running her hand down his abdomen to rest just beneath his belly button. “There’s something I’ve been thinking about and I wasn’t sure how to bring it up without you having some context.”

“Scully, if you’re about to suggest we have a foursome with Monica and Dahlia, I’m going to owe Frohike five hundred bucks,” he interjects.

She scoffs, “in your dreams, Mulder.”

“I think you mean Melvin.”

“Well, sorry Melvin, but that’s not what I was thinking about.” Her thumb hooks just beneath the elastic of his boxers, his happy trail tickling her skin.

“Okay, sorry, what were you thinking about?”

“What if,” she begins, dragging her finger back and forth under the fabric, “Monica was your partner. On the X files.”

He puts his hand over hers to still the movement, pulling away a bit so she’ll look at him.

“What do you mean, Scully?” He feels a rush of adrenaline, though he’s not yet sure if it’s from excitement or fear.

“I mean, she’s open to...unexplainable phenomena. The two of you get along quite well, and she wouldn't try to debunk your work or scoff at your theories. You said they might let you reopen them if you had a partner you could work with, and I think Monica might be that person.”

He considers this for a moment. “Who’s to say she’d even want to, she’s assigned to VICAP-”

“She hates VICAP,” Scully interjects, “it’s a bunch of macho men trying to one-up each other. I know she’d be happy to be reassigned, and to work out of the Hoover building. She and Dahlia live in Palisades; her commute sucks.”

His mind is reeling, but he doesn’t want to get ahead of himself. “I don’t even know where we’d start, Scully. It seems so unlikely.”

“Just ask for a meeting with AD Skinner. If you think it would help for Monica to be a part of that meeting, I know she’d be happy to attend. I’ve told her a bit about The X files and I wouldn’t even bring this up with you unless I was sure she’d be interested. I can talk to her about it on Monday, if you want to give it a shot.”

He looks up at the ceiling, eyebrows stitched in thought. Hope pricks at the corners of his mind, but he knows well enough not to let it take root; he’s been disappointed too many times before. He looks over at Scully, her expression holding all the hope that he won’t allow himself to feel.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks gently.

“Because I want you to be happy,” she says earnestly, pulling her hand from beneath his and bringing it to his cheek, “from the moment I met you, I saw how you light up when you talk about The X Files. If there’s a chance you can investigate them again, I want to pursue it.”

He sighs, a tender smile tugging at his lips. He turns on his side, pushing his palms under her ass and pulling her on top of him as she giggles.

“Okay, talk to Monica,” he says, sliding his hands under her sleep shirt and up her bare back, “I’ll email Skinner on Monday.”

She smiles at him, self-satisfied and victorious.

“Now, about that champagne,” he says, pulling her down for a kiss.

———

She nervously checks her email every two minutes, aggressively clicking the send/receive button. Monica and Mulder were meeting with AD Skinner at 11:00am and it’s now almost 1:00pm and she hasn’t heard anything. That could either be a very good sign, or a very bad one. She has class in ten minutes and needs to head over to the lecture hall to prepare. She refreshes it one more time, and an email pops up.

From: fmulder@fbi.gov

Sent: September 18, 1997 12:51pm

To: dscully@fbi.gov

Subject: Maybe good news?

He didn’t say no, but he didn’t say yes, either. He asked us about 800 questions and then said he had to run it by the section chief. My impression is that he wants to make it work, but obviously it’s not totally within his control.

Fingers crossed. Hopefully we’ll know by Friday.

She heaves a big sigh, a cautious smile playing on her lips. She shoots him a quick response and then makes her way to class, praying all the way that the answer will be yes.

———

She’d taken that Friday off, for no reason in particular. Ever since Mulder had effectively moved in with her, she liked to take random weekdays off here and there just to have some time to herself. She’d spent the afternoon reading, re-arranging her spice cupboard, and making space for Mulder to have half her dresser instead of just one drawer. She’s sitting on the floor of the bedroom, surrounded by neatly folded stacks of T-shirts and pajama pants, when she hears the front door open. She checks her watch; it’s only 3:00 pm, too early for Mulder to be home.

“Hello?” she calls out nervously.

The bedroom door swings open and Mulder is there, his chest heaving and a dopey smile on his face.

“Is everything okay?” she asks, “what are you doing home?”

“It was approved,” he says breathlessly, apparently having run from wherever he parked the car.

“What was approved?” she asks, standing.

“The X Files, Scully. They’re reopened, effective Monday, with me and Reyes as the assigned agents,” he says, his smile broadening even further.

Her mouth drops open in disbelief, a surprised smile forming on her lips. She had held out hope, but she was also very aware that the chances were slim. He crosses the room, scooping her up in his arms, her legs wrapping around his hips.

“It never would have happened if it wasn’t for you,” he says, adoration in his eyes.

She kisses him, and he turns to lay her on the bed, shedding his suit jacket and tossing it on the floor. Moving quickly, desperately, he tugs at the waistband of her pants, stripping them off along with her panties, and pushes her shirt up to expose her breasts. He begins kissing her neck, down to her chest and belly, pausing intermittently to speak words of affirmation and gratitude until he reaches the apex of her thighs and is quiet.

He laps at her tenderly, humming and sighing as her body catches up and she feels the flush of desire form in her belly. She pushes her fingers into his hair, scraping gently at his scalp in encouragement as he flicks his tongue against her opening and she bucks her hips in response. His thumb swipes gently over her clit as he pushes his tongue inside her, licking at her increasingly slick walls and making her whimper. After a few minutes, he switches to his fingers inside her and his tongue at her clit. Swirling and sucking until she commands him not to stop, he holds steady as she falls apart against his lips, flexing his fingers deep inside to draw it out. Finally she taps on his head, and he crawls back up to plant soft kisses along her jaw.

“Consider us even,” she breathes out, eyes still closed in bliss.

“I think I might like to continue making it up to you,” he says with a nip to her earlobe, and she laughs.

“Okay, if you insist.”

[lilypixels]

...............all of them.....?

It took me an hr to do this....🥲💀

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

Teacupsss

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

Lollipops

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

Uhhh cotton candy

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

Probably quiet and smart lol I did my school work and was friendly with everyone so I was a favorite and heard all the nice things 🙈

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

I kinda like bottles more but like the glass ones with the caps that could slice your fingers-

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

I’m for all but sports lol

7. earbuds or headphones?

Earbuds

8. movies or tv shows?

Shows cause I’m the type to watch an hr long episode vs hr long movie idk why but I’m rarely in mood for them

12. name of your favorite playlist?

Drop the beat (ie songs that are upbeat and I like most)

13. lanyard or key ring?

Hmm...I guess lanyard?

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

Skittles or twizzlers

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

I had lots I had to read in school but only ever finished a handful lol my favorite I think was maybe Macbeth? I would say Odyssey but I don’t think we read the full thing cause I remember being disappointed about something like that...

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

Sitting with my legs bent up in seat with me in some way

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

Converse and some nice but cheap sneakers from Walmart

18. ideal weather?

Not too hot, not too cold, mild like before/after a rain (most the time), idc if it’s raining or sunny but as long as temp is comfortable I’m fine

19. sleeping position?

On my side most often

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

Phone and notebook

21. obsession from childhood?

Oh gosh uhhh I guess my like of dolls maybe? Or obsession with anything ✨unexplained✨ like ghosts, aliens, cryptids, etc

22. role model?

Kim Namjoon lol just kidding (sorta)

23. strange habits?

Ok I know I have some and my friends would be more than happy to point them all out but hm let me think...idk if these count as habits but I’ll never place a mirror facing a bed (this is more superstitious I guess than habit,,,) I can’t stand my food touching, if I have a tray like in cafeteria I have a certain spot for everything and uh my mind just went blank-

24. favorite crystal?

Moonstone, lapis lazuli, and I feel obligated to say garnet cause it’s my birthstone

25. first song you remember hearing?

Circle of Life maybe who knows xD

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

Walk or clean,,I’m more active and about with warm/nice weather

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

...stay inside where it’s warm

28. five songs to describe you?

Not this again😭 uhhh idk you tell me ajdbd

29. best way to bond with you?

Indulge me when I go off about things I like or learn 😔✊ I know I’ll talk your ear off and I’m sorry but know I don’t often talk about these things with people so once I start it’s hard to stop,,and it makes me really happy when people do listen to me about these things and send me related items every so often or even look into it themselves to learn more 🥺

30. places that you find sacred?

For some reason this feels like a trick question...um cemeteries and anything with ages of history I guess

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

Oof do I really have a true outfit?? I have shoes for this which are just black platform sneakers I call stomping shoes

32. top five favorite vines?

I never,,,watched these,,,

33. most used phrase in your phone?

“Yes”...?

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

State Farm and McDonald’s, always

35. average time you fall asleep?

10-11...usually...

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

Uhhh that one with the ginger dude (I think it was someone’s yearbook photo??) I don’t remember much else about the meme but it was on ifunny, or whatever the app was, a lot

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

Suitcase

38. lemonade or tea?

Easy, tea

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

...neither

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

Dude these questions really testing my brain power here- for senior prank someone put cereal in some bathroom sinks I think

41. last person you texted?

My mom

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

I’m gonna say jacket since I wear those often

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

Hoodie or cardigan

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

Fantasy

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

Usually whatever shirt I’m wearing that day and some pj/lounge pants 🤷

47. favorite type of cheese?

Mozzarella

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

I-what kind of question is this? How does one even answer this?

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

What comes around goes around lol (yes I’m a heavy believer of karma)

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

Lol who knows, probably something dumb me and my siblings were doing or something we watched cause there’s been plenty times of that xD

51. current stresses?

Homework vs free time e-e

52. favorite font?

I like the gothic looking ones but it’s usually not practical to use so idk

53. what is the current state of your hands?

My hands...? They’re fine ??

54. what did you learn from your first job?

How to care for babies and little kids, how to put on a diaper lol

56. favorite tradition?

I can’t remember a particular one off hand but I’m trying to start few new ones like decorating cookies for Halloween uwu

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

Uhhhhh like personally or...? Cause we’ve overcome homelessness before, um finishing assignments idk😭 oh maybe bullying?? That’s all I can think of since I still struggle with a lot,,

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

Alright let’s do thisss: creativity (mostly in writing sense), I can bake/cook, I have amazing organization skills and many work places have used that lol (bonus is I don’t mind, I actually really enjoy it, very peaceful), surprisingly good balance all things considered, I’m a quick learner

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

“I’m too tired for this.”

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

Good question good question🤔 I don’t think I’d last in any of them/have a terrible side character role so 💀

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

“Life’s too short to hold grudges.”

62. seven characters you relate to?

Dude this is gonna get embarrassing I can feel it🤠

Itaru, Iori, Sogo, Belle, Simeon (obey me), Nozaki (he’s clueless about romance irl and doesn’t know when someone has a crush on him yet can write romance well enough and yeah it’s me lol), and uhh Swindler/Ordinary Person in Akudama Drive (still can’t believe no one really has names in that anime but the way she gets wrapped in everything felt like something that’d happen to me lol)

63. five songs that would play in your club?

Like nightclub...? I’m skipping this ajdbd

64. favorite website from your childhood?

Probably the Barbie site, me and my sister played all the dress up games almost daily istg

65. any permanent scars?

Appendectomy scars and then looks like I have one on a toe but it’s possible it still might heal...

66. favorite flower(s)?

Nightshade, foxglove, baby’s breath, bellflowers, roses

67. good luck charms?

I don’t think I have any...

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

Lemon

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

Let me think...I read something once about flowers having ears(?) but like not ear ears just something about having a part that picks up sound waves

70. left or right handed?

Right

71. least favorite pattern?

Lolll animal print I think

72. worst subject?

Physics...the worst science

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

6...?

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

I don’t remember, it probably happened when i was 6. I do remember losing one of my front teeth during my birthday one year and I was happy since the tooth had been loose for some time xD

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

Chips I guess or just like fried in skillet

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

A succulent probably

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

Neither ew

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

They are both about equally terrible

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

Earth

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

Fireflies

82. pc or console?

I am on pc side now

83. writing or drawing?

Writing

84. podcasts or talk radio?

Podcasts I guess

84. barbie or polly pocket?

Barbie

85. fairy tales or mythology?

Mythology, it’s too fun and chaotic lol

86. cookies or cupcakes?

Hm...cupcakes

87. your greatest fear?

Uh,,,I don’t have many fears but I guess one would be falling from a great height? So I would get scared of crossing a bridge and it collapsing or riding a plane and it falling easily

88. your greatest wish?

World peace🥲

89. who would you put before everyone else?

My mom maybe...?

90. luckiest mistake?

I honestly don’t remember but something I do remember is I out semicolon instead of period and turned out to be correct grammar lol

91. boxes or bags?

Boxes

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

Sunlight or fairy lights, I don’t require much either way and prefer more natural lighting

93. nicknames?

Lassie, twinkle toes, Ash, poody butt (by 3 yr old I sometimes watch and play with lol he means it affectionately; I call him monkey butt and it’s catching on slowly instead)

94. favorite season?

Starting to be fall just a little more but I like transition times most

95. favorite app on your phone?

Let’s go with twitter

96. desktop background?

It is a moriarty and gang pic

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

2: mine and my moms

98. favorite historical era?

Ooo tough one but I’ll say renaissance as some of the coolest things came from that time

[joonkorre]

@drarrymicrofic prompt: remake

not gonna say much on this. yall should find out what's going on yourselves :D. ao3

“What do you think, Mr. Malfoy?”

Draco doesn’t need to think; he’s done enough of that in the past two months, since the day he opened his front door to see the strange woman’s sharp smile. But he thinks anyway, one last time before he answers.

He’d have to leave the wizarding world behind. Of course, it doesn’t have to be that drastic. However, if he doesn’t want his frequent disappearances to catch the Ministry’s attention, then it’s best to withdraw into the Muggle world altogether, as far from its control as possible. Mother has Aunt Andy, Teddy, and friends from her book club now, she’ll be fine with him visiting only a few days each year.

Other than that, there are no downsides. He has nothing to lose except maybe his life somewhere down the line, but everybody dies at some point, don’t they?

He lifts his gaze to the buzzing light on the ceiling, its shine cold and apathetic. To the mahogany bookcase, filled with tomes upon tomes full of ancient rites and rituals, of creatures considered ‘cryptid’ even to wizardkind. To the bookend that is shaped like a crow, which flaps its wings when its beak is tapped five times, unlocking the hidden safe behind the bookcase. The safe that stores all the actual research and data he’s collected, jealously and fearfully hoarded.

He doesn’t know everything, but he knows enough. He knows enough to be aware that the lore Pansy snorted at when he first mentioned them, the creatures Mother dismissed as another of her bored rich son’s new obsessions, are the same ones Unspeakable Granger narrowed her eyes at when she walked past his table in the canteen and caught a glimpse of his notes. He had a feeling then that he shouldn’t even make any indication that he was interested in these things, which was proven to be correct when Ministry personnel started loitering outside his office more after that day.

He doesn’t know everything, but he knows his findings are not safe in anyone’s hands but his. The Ministry still repeats its tendency to care more about itself than the common people. The Department of Mystery, practically its own entity due to how even the Minister is forbidden from accessing most of its files, has motivations he can’t comprehend, which means motivations he can’t predict. There is no way to know if his colleagues are truly interested in “that old wife’s tale, that Bigfoot, Cthulhu shite Malfoy’s into” or will report him to those who know how to deal with him, to Unspeakable Granger, to the Department of Mysteries. His findings are not safe in anyone’s hand but his.

But if he says ‘yes,’ they are.

Draco dips his quill in the ink bottle the woman—“Dr. Stewart,” she’s introduced, calm and sure—provided him and signs his name on the contract and its related documents. No hint of anything other than indifference is shown on her face, and he wonders how many others before him has she recruited.

Once his thumbprint has been collected, the last step of the process, he Vanishes the ink on his finger. Dr. Stewart raises a brow but says nothing more. She stands up, holding out a hand.

“Welcome, Dr. Malfoy. The SCP Foundation is glad to have you with us.”

Shaking her hand, Draco feels something slide into place at his new title. He smiles politely, heart thundering in his chest.

“Have you worked with wizards before, Dr. Stewart?” Draco asks as he starts packing the valuables at his work desk into his briefcase. Dr. Steward has come to the Ministry by Floo, and though she seemed a bit disconcerted after stepping out of the Ministry Public Floo #13, she didn’t hesitate to follow him to his office. Thus, seeing her reaction to a simple Vanishing spell has certainly been a bit strange.

Dr. Steward gathers the documents to secure in a folder.

“My colleagues have—some of them have Muggleborn and Halfblood relatives—but not me personally,” she answers. “My apologies, I still need to get used to seeing magic in… this way. Ironically, we have more luck with magic users from other dimensions than from our own, especially with what happened in recent history.”

The Second Wizarding War ended barely a decade ago. Its victims, both people and nature, still bleed. “I can see why you aren’t very keen on interacting with us up-close these days,” Draco nods, careful.

“Precisely,” Dr. Stewart says. “So, believe it when I say you’re the exception.”

Draco stiffens. “Thank you. I’m sorry, it’s still a bit hard to, ah, believe that.”

“You are the exception,” she says. “We need professionals in the occult, especially those who dabbled in the Dark Arts along with other types of magic. Not many wizards of your kind in Great Britain remember the Original Gods and Old Magic, but you have that link, whether it be through honest religious belief or just intensive research.”

She crosses her legs. “We’ve had our eyes on you for a while, Dr. Malfoy. We need someone who’s willing to look for the oddity in the mundane, and when our people heard rumours of the infamous Malfoy heir having a—highly accurate, by the way—fixation on conspiracy theories and cryptozoology, visiting various parts of the world in pursuit of those ‘tall tales,’ we knew we need your intellect.”

Draco doesn’t quite know what to say. He was sure everybody thought him unhinged; even Luna seemed off around him these days instead of enthusiastically rallying after his theories like she usually would, gradually gravitating toward Granger whenever they’re in the same room.

“Our goals are different; the SCP Foundation wants to keep humanity safe and alive, you want knowledge and just knowledge. But I hope you find yourself in your element while working with us, finally having access to all the information you’ve been working so hard to find out.”

She tilts her head just so, and Draco can tell she knows he likes what he’s hearing. His thirst consumes him, makes him risk, makes him sin. He has to go insane to stay sane. Despite the small price of most likely dying from working with dangerous anomalies at the Foundation no matter how pretty Dr. Stewart advertises it, every cell in his body sings at the chance to know what is lurking beyond the folds of reality.

He thinks of Mother, of Aunt Andy, of little Teddy, of Pansy, of Blaise. The vision of them killed, maimed, snapped from existence because he didn’t do anything to help makes his gut twist, his throat parched. He’d kill himself from the guilt, a well-casted Sectumsempra. He decides.

His goal is no different than the Foundation’s from now on, and he has no qualms about that. With this opportunity, he is free at last, free to do the work he knows is important, to help and change without outside interference.

He is reborn.

Draco’s back straightens, and he moves his wand this way and that, orchestrating a cacophony of tomes and devices to levitate from the heavy bookshelves to the duffle bag he brought along.

“Dr. Malfoy, did I not tell you where you’ll be stationed?”

Draco halts the objects’ action mid-air, staring at Dr. Stewart.

“I was under the impression that I am to be working at Site-91,” he says, “in Yorkshire?”

“As I thought, I forgot something,” Dr. Stewart sighs, the first sign of human imperfection leaking through. She searches through her briefcase, long nails clicking through the files. “Sit down, please, and there’s no need to pack up your belongings.”

Sending the objects back to their original places, Draco takes his seat, brows furrowed. He toys with his wand, a tick he hasn’t been able to be rid of ever since Potter’s returned his wand after years of what seemed to be perpetual emptiness without it.

“There we go,” Dr. Stewart says and flips open a thick, stapled stack of paper. “You are to stay here for the duration of your first assignment. Count yourself lucky, starting work right away.”

“Stay here? But—”

“There is an anomalous individual working here,” she says, hard lines etched on her face. “You will act like you’ve not changed your career and continue to ‘work’ in the Ministry. Because of your proximity, we expect you to gather as much information as possible about him. You can use any method, as long as you stay alive and well to report back to us and receive your salary. Not to worry, we will assist you as this individual is, like most of what we deal with, deadly when pushed.”

She slides the file toward him and settles back against her chair. Draco is admittedly no less surprised than before.

“Wake up and get ready by 6 AM this Saturday, for we’ll come to get you at your house and go to Site-91. There are other information and protocols you need to know, and you’ll also get the equipment suited for this assignment,” Dr. Stewart adds.

Draco has a few questions, but from the way she ends with a close-mouthed smile, he reckons any at all would be regarded as idiotic. Well, at least she told him something.

With a slight sigh, he opens the file. The peculiar layouts and code words fly past him—he’d have to ask for a manual of some kind, Muggle science-y terminology has never been his best suit. However.

“What,” he breathes, leaning close to the file, eyes wide, “what is he—what is—”

However, there are two words he can’t mistake, no matter how sleep-deprived he is or how blind. A name, in fact.

“What is Harry Potter doing in this file?”

“Isn't it obvious?” Dr. Stewart asks, lacing her fingers on her lap. “Think. His lifelong exposure with the Dark Arts and artifacts, how volatile and explosive his power is, and most importantly, how dangerous he is even to the brightest magic users. There’s a reason why we don’t meddle with your kind. You already have the means available to contain certain anomalies, but Potter is different, and we have to step in this time.”

Draco stares at her, then at the name in the file, at the picture attached, slack-jawed.

“The oddity in the mundane, Dr. Malfoy,” Dr. Stewart leans forward, a knowing look on her face. Draco's legs feel like wooden trunks, sunken into the ground. "Get used to it, and get focused. Because if left unchecked, Harry Potter might very well get powerful enough to become a reality bender."

[biartemisfowl-archive]

Hey! Happy new year and I just wanted to say that I read all your af requested one shots so far and they are AMAZING🔥 your work is just so good! Is it possible to do another professor!Artemis, but it’s just him having a conversation with his students instead of teaching? Like he just doesn’t want to teach and the students don’t want to learn if that makes sense :))

hi, happy new year to you too anon! ty for being so nice abt my writing, it really means a lot to me! here’s what you requested - i like to think artemis is a good teacher, he’s just a little...suspicious at times to his ~underworld~ connections. this will also be available on my ao3; i made them both into one work.

pretty little baby, pretty little monster (went to the good school, left w honors) - pt 2

      “I know you all have been working really hard lately, but it’s not break yet,” Artemis said to his students, rubbing his brow tiredly. “We still have work to do.”

“C’mon, let us have some fun for a change,” Oscar Walsh said, grinning hopefully. 

“Yeah, break starts tomorrow. What could we even get done before then?” Oscar’s friend Violet Boran chimed in, pushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

“I’m sure we could find something to do,” Artemis protested, looking frantically through his lesson plans for anything they still hadn’t covered that seemed promising. 

“Can’t we just relax for once?” Oscar pleaded, desperately hoping he wouldn’t have to do more work.

      Artemis resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Relaxing was not something he did well. But all of his students looked so optimistic and energetic that he figured they wouldn’t be able to focus very well anyway. Maybe they did deserve a bit of a break before the holidays. “Fine,” he said, a touch exasperatedly. “You can ‘relax.’” 

A small cheer arose from the seats in the lecture hall. “Nice!” Oscar said as Violet and Josh Byrne high-fived him. 

      Some of the students began digging snacks out of their backpacks while others took out earbuds or cell phones. They started talking amongst themselves, chatting happily. After a few minutes, a bold young man by the name of Conan Delee asked “So, Doctor, what do you even do while you’re not teaching us? Got a hobby?”

“Yeah! People get super suspicious of you, you know. They say you must be some kind of cryptid,” Violet chimed in.

Artemis shrugged. “Of course I have a hobby; I often compose music as an escape. And as for the ‘cryptid’ accusations, rest assured that I am just as human as the rest of you are.” Or close enough to it, he thought to himself wryly. 

      There were a few murmurs among the class at this. Composing was a relatively innocent, if not somewhat pretentious, hobby as far as it went, but who knew whether or not he was telling the truth?

“So who are you, I don’t know, friends with? Do you know any of the other professors here?” Oscar asked. He was hoping he could get some closure on who Artemis could have been talking to the day Josh eavesdropped on him.

“Oh, I’m afraid you wouldn’t know most of my contacts. They’re rather underground,” Artemis said, holding back a smirk at his own joke.

Oscar glanced at Josh and thought sarcastically, Well, that was helpful.

      After the class decided that they weren’t going to get much more out of their teacher, they went back to their snacks and cell phones. A few moments later, however, Artemis had an idea.

“Okay, class. Let’s play some trivia,” he said brightly, deciding to engage them in an activity that was at least somewhat educational. Everyone groaned. 

“Come on!” Conan complained. “That’s no fun.” There were mutters of approval.

Artemis raised an eyebrow. “Would you rather me assign you more work?” At that, even though there was a little bit of grumbling among the students, they decided to just go along with it.

      “Let’s divide into teams - boys versus girls,” Josh suggested. 

Their professor nodded. “Alright, that’s fine. Are we ready to start?”

“Yeah, we’re gonna totally crush you guys,” Violet said, poking a finger at Oscar.

Artemis thought for a moment, coming up with a question. “Okay, question number one. Which of Shakespeare’s plays is the longest?”

Josh tapped his pencil in front of him, thinking hard. “Um, it’s King Lear isn’t it?”

An intelligent girl by the name of Grace Kyne spoke up. “No, it’s Hamlet right?”

Artemis grinned. “That’s right! Hamlet is correct. One point for the girls.” A couple of people on the girls team high-fived.

“Question number two: how many hearts does a squid have?”

“Three!” Conan said excitedly. “I know that one.”

“Correct. One point for the boys,” Artemis said, trying not to think about his own run-in with a squid in his youth. 

      “Question number three: who was the first woman to win a Nobel Prize in 1903?”

“Oh, was it Gerty Cori?” Grace wondered aloud. “I can’t remember this one…”

“It was Marie Curie,” Violet answered. “She won it for contributions to physics.”

“That’s right,” Artemis said. “Another point for the girls.” The boys groaned. “Speaking of physics, what is the unit measurement for the activity of a radioactive source?” the professor continued. They should know this one - they were in his class after all.

“The becquerel!” Oscar said, smiling widely. “I remember learning about that.”

Artemis nodded at him, smiling a little too. “Good job, Mr Walsh.” Oscar shrugged, but looked rather happy to be getting the praise.

      Just then, Artemis glanced at his watch. “Oh, it looks like our time is up. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“No, just ask us one more question! We’re tied up, so whoever gets this one right will win,” Conan said, not one to back down.

“Well, if you insist,” Artemis replied. Everyone seemed in agreement that the game wasn’t over yet. “The last question is this: what is the painting ‘La Gioconda’ more commonly known as?”

“Oh, I know this one!” Josh said. “It’s the Mona Lisa.”

“Correct,” Artemis said. “The boys win, three to two.” The girls shrugged it off, and Violet even gave Oscar a friendly cuff on the shoulder. 

With that, the students packed up their belongings and started moving on. “See you tomorrow, Professor,” Josh said on his way out.

“Yes, I imagine you will Mr Byrne,” Artemis responded, smiling just a little. He really did love his job.

[mrs-mikko-rantanen]

The Beast of Baker's Bridge

Finally, it's out there. 2039 words long. The Gang starts to feel a little cooped up after three snow days in a row and decides to go hunt a local cryptid in the snow, despite the snow and the wind. One of their own gets lost, and they have to hunt for their friend instead. Tw hypothermia

William stomped his feet a little impatiently as everyone began to stumble out of the woods and back towards his truck. Everyone seemed to be laughing and enjoying themselves, if not a little cold from the adventure. It had been a long weekend, spurred on by the school district canceling classes for three days due to the snowfall and large blizzard that had hit town. This, of course, had resulted in the Gang all spending the better part of three days driving around town together and causing some general mischief and mayhem. It had also resulted in all of them spending most of the weekend in the Alistairion’s basement, playing board games and watching movies, and, tonight, telling ghost stories.

    Maureen of course had started that event of the night. But the rest of them had been quick to pile on their own tales, until Brennan had brought up the infamous local legend of the Beast of Baker’s Bridge.

    “Do-do you think it’s real?” Mary had been sitting on Aiden’s lap, his arms wrapped around her. Mary was famously the most superstitious of the group, and by far the easiest to scare.

    William had rolled his eyes. “Of course it isn’t, Mary.”

    “But...but all those people...how else could they have disappeared?” 

    “I’m sure they just got lost, dear.” Aiden said, kissing Mary’s head. Mary didn’t look convinced at all.

    “Well. There’s only one way to find out, I suppose.” Maureen had suggested from her perch on the couch, eyebrows waggling. 

    “You can’t be serious.” Hamish said with a sigh. 

    “Why not?” Valeria had piped up with a shrug. “We’ve all been trapped in here for hours, fresh air would do us all some good. Besides, we can go get Pizza Hut after.”

    That had been the deciding factor, really. The promise of pizza had lured them all up the stairs and bundled into their coats, waving cheerful goodbyes and promises to be back soon to Hamish's parents  before piling into the back of William’s truck. Armed with flashlights and blankets as they sang loudly to any song that came on the radio. Twenty minutes later they’d tumbled out of the truck, wandered the words, inevitably got bored, and began to head back, remembering the promise of pizza. 

    William sighed as he pulled his jacket tighter around his shoulders, then dug out a cigarette and his lighter, offering one to Maureen as she came and leaned against the truck next to him. They joked and laughed for a while as everyone else came back. William climbed into the cab of the truck, started it, and got the heaters running. 

    “Alright, we got everyone?” Brennan asked, frowning.

    There was a quick chorus of agreement from everyone, and William frowned as he glanced at the group, counting. 

    “Where’s Mish?”

    The Gang fell silent. William opened the door of the truck and layed on the horn.

    “MISH! C’MON, MAN! PIZZA HUT WON’T BE OPEN ALL NIGHT!”  He shouted once the horn died. No response came. They all shuffled around a little, trying to warm up some. Finally they started chatting amongst themselves again. 

    “God, where is he? We’ve been waiting for like ten minutes now...” William asked, flicking ash off his cigarette. 

    “HAMISH!” Brennan bellowed, “COME ON!” 

    Mary gasped, her hands flying to cover her mouth as her eyes filled with tears. William’s face melted into one of concern, glancing at Aiden as Mary’s hands lowered and her lip quivered.

    “What if--what if the Beast got him…” 

    Aiden wrapped his arms around Mary and shook his head a little. “I’m sure he just got a little turned around.”

    “What about the river?” Valeria’s voice was more serious than William had ever heard it. “Maybe he broke through the ice and fell in, he could have gotten hurt.” 

    Maureen stomped out the last of her cigarette in the snow. “We should go look for him. It’s going to start getting a lot colder fast. We should make sure he’s ok.”

    “Maurie’s right. But we can’t split up, we can’t risk anymore of us getting lost.” Brennan said calmly, “Mary, Val, you two stay here with the car in case he comes back. Keep it running and warm and honk the horn if you see him. Aiden, You and Maurie head to the left, keep your eyes peeled. Will, you and I will go right, towards the bridge. Everyone watch your step, be careful, and keep your eyes and ears open, ok?”

    Everyone nodded and headed out in their assigned directions, calling Hamish’s name as loudly as they could, flashlights skimming through the trees.

 ******

    “HAMISH! HAMISH!” William’s voice cracked as he stumbled through through the snow. He tripped a little, catching himself on a tree. He'd been much more calm twenty minutes ago when the search had begun. But now there had still been no sign of his best friend, and the panic was getting harder and harder to ignore.  “HAMISH!”

    “Will.  Will, we have to go back to the car. We’re not gonna do Mish any good if we get hypothermia.” Brennan’s teeth chattered a little as he grabbed William’s shoulder, “We can go back to the car, warm up and let Val and Mary take a turn--”

    “We can’t, we’ll lose ground, what if--” William was barely aware of the tears that started streaming down his face.

    “Will. He’s-”

    “Don't say that he's fine! He’s not fine, He’s not! He’s been out here for hours! It may already be too late!” William shouted, turning around to face Brennan. “He’s not fine. He’s not. We can't waste time, we have to--” He choked on a sob and started to slump to the ground. Brennan caught him in a tight hug, sniffing a little too. 

"Ok man. Ok." He finally said, wiping his eyes, "We'll look a little while longer."

William nodded and pulled away from Brennan, wiping his nose. "Yeah. Ten minutes?"

"Ten minutes."

They nodded a little, turning back to the darkened woods and shouting Hamish's name. Brennan grabbed William’s arm, shushing him a little and shining his flashlight into the trees.

“Did you hear that?” He asked.

    For a moment, William’s heart slammed to a stop, wondering if it had been some animal, maybe the Beast… His ears strained to hear over the wind, and his breath caught in his throat when he heard it.

    “Crying?”

    Brennan nodded once. “MISH? HAMISH, WHERE ARE YOU?”

    William took up the cry and tore off in the direction of the quiet sobs that they’d heard. He almost ran past him, slumped up against a tree. He was shivering, and his breathing was slow and shallow, pierced by hiccups and small sobs. 

    “Bren, Bren I found him, he’s over here!” He shouted as he scrambled to the ground next to Hamish. “Mish. Mish, hey it’s me.”

    Hamish blinked slowly, frowning. “Will? Bren’n? Wha’re you guys doin’ here?” His voice was slurred as he looked at them, his eyes barely focusing.

    “We came to get you, buddy.” Brennan said gently, “Do you know what happened?”

    Hamish’s frown deepened as William pulled off his hat, pushing it on to Hamish’s head and pulling it over his ears. “No. ’S r’lly cold…”

    “Yeah. Yeah, it is. Let’s get you back to the truck, ok?” Brennan grabbed Hamish’s arm as he shifted to lift him to his feet. William quickly followed, grunting a little as Hamish fought against them at first, moaning as they pulled him away from the tree. “It’s a bit of a walk.” Brennan warned Hamish.

    “No problem though, right? It’ll get your blood moving, warm you up a little!” William tried to force a note of cheerfulness into his voice. 

    The three boys stumbled through the snow and blowing wind, Brennan calling out to the woods in an attempt to let everyone know they’d found Hamish. William was trying not to cry, muttering to his best friend that they were getting closer. They were so close, almost there. Just a little closer. William had never been happier in his whole life than he was in the moment that he saw the truck, and he let out a relived laugh, squeezing Hamish’s arm.

    “We did it, Mish. We got back. We made it.” 

    “Oh my God.” Mary sounded like she’d been crying as she and Maureen ran foreward. Brennan passed Hamish over to Maureen, then sprinted the rest of the way to the truck, letting out a long blast with the horn.

    “VAL! ADIEN! WE GOT HIM! COME BACK!” He ripped open the back seat, then slid in backwards, motioning for William and Maureen to help load Hamish in with him as he grabbed one of the blankets.”Will, if they aren’t back in five minutes go find-”

    “Mish.” Aiden grabbed the side of the door as he skidded to a stop. 

    “That’s everyone. Ok we have to go- we have to get him to a hospital.” Brennan nodded and waved for everyone to get in.

    “Is he wet? Did he fall in the river?” Mary asked breathlessly as she climbed into the back seat, squeezing in next to Hamish.

    “What does it matter?” William snapped a little, watching as everyone else crammed into the truck, seeming to refuse to want in the back, away from Hamish.

    “No, she’s right.” Valeria said from her shared seat with Maureen as William pulled out of the parking spot, “Wet clothes will just keep him cold.” 

Mary pulled the blanket open, gently grabbing at Hamish’s coat sleeves and frowning. “Here, yeah.” She and Brennan pulled the zipper of his coat down as William cranked the heaters up as high as they could go, angling them back towards Hamish. 

Aiden had pushed the window between the cab and the back of the truck open, twisting to fish out the blankets they’d brought with them. By the time he had gotten them free and had closed the window again, Mary and and Brennan had pulled Hamish’s wet coat, sweatshirt, and t-shirt off of him. Valeria and Maureen had both pulled off their scarves and coats as well, passing them back to Mary. She wrapped them around Hamish and draped the jackets over his shoulders and chest as Brennan went back to wrapping blankets around him.

Hamish’s eyes had closed again and his head lolled, his body still convulsing with shivers as his fingers curled loosely around the blankets. 

“Where’re we goin?” He asked, hiccuping a little as his head drooped to the left.

    “We’re taking you to the hospital, hun.” Mary explained patiently, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and gently rubbing his arm. “They’ll warm you up.”

    Hamish nodded a little, his head drooping farther to the side and his eyelids fluttering. 

    “Hey. Hey you gotta stay awake, buddy.” Brennan said, wrapping his arms around Hamish as well. Hamish let out an upset sound and a few words in Gealic that William didn’t catch from the driver seat. 

    “Mish.” Maureen called, reaching back towards him, “Mish, come on, you can’t pass out on us, man. Hold on, ok?”

    “’M tiered.” Hamish groaned. 

    “I know.” Maureen said, “I know, but you have to hold on. You have to.”

    “Can’t I jus’ sleep?”

    “No, Mish. No, we need you. We all need you to stick around, ok?” Mary said, pulling him into as tight a hug as she could manage. “We need you to- to-” She hiccuped a little and sobbed before Aiden kissed her head.

    “We need you to help us with homework.” He said.

    “And to remind us to drink water.” Valeria said.

    “We need you to keep playing football so that we have an excuse to go to the games.” William piped up.

    “We need you to make us watch stupid movies and put up stupid Christmas decorations.” Brennan said.

    “We need you to keep running the Revolution.” Maureen’s hand reached out for his, but her fingers barely brushed his knee.

    “We need- We need you to stay awake.” Mary hiccuped again.

    Hamish blinked a little, his breathing still labored and and slow. “I need...I need you guys too.” 

    Aiden reached around Mary and pulled a blanket tighter around his friend. “Hold on, man. Just keep holding on.”

[thiswasinevitableid]

#5 Sternclay please? SFW or NSFW, doesn't matter to me. Thank you!

I went NSFW, minor CW for light D/S and a brief mention of suicide.

5 Should I update my outfit again? I think they like my new boots but the cape didn’t get the reaction I was hoping for 

“Okay, I want your honest opinion.” Barclay turns towards the communication screen.

On the screen, Indrid Cold raises an eyebrow, “My honest, unvarnished opinion?”

“Yeah.”

His friend throws his silver haired head back and cackles, the kind of supervillain laugh that makes Barclay jealous, “Oh, oh my friend, that is the most absurd get up I have ever seen on any hero, villain, anit-hero, supermodel, or psuedovillain.”

Barclay sags, “that’s kinda what I figured.”

“I mean, the tight black tank-top? The black pants? Those boots, goodness, did you get rid of your modified hiking boots?”

“No. Pretty sure he liked those.” He mumbles.

“Ah haaah.” Indrid tents his fingers, leaning forward with a grin, “still pining for your man in black, I see.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Barclay, I doubt changing your outfit is going to bring him over to your point of view. And what happened to the trans-pride patterned flannel top you got for the last time? I recall you being proud of how it flattered your physique?”

“He didn’t even mention it.”

“Wasn’t he chasing you off government property at the time?”

“So? He’s commented on things like that before. Uggggh.” Barclay slumps down in his command chair, “How did you get the Ranger to move things to the next level?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.”

Barclay stares him down. Indrid stares right back. 

Finally, his friend sighs, “My wires got crossed during a fight and I kissed him instead of headbutting him. Not one of my prouder moments. Though it has decreased the number of fights in my life and increased the number of orgasms.”

“Don’t think that’ll work. No offense to the Ranger, but Agent X is all business. I try kissing him, he’ll taze me or some shit.”

“Well then, you’ll have to get creative. Perhaps...oh drat, he’s early.”

Barclay’s about to ask who when a crash echoes offscreen. 

“We should catch up again soon, Barclay.” As the feed goes dark, Indrid turns and shouts, “You green-clad nuisance, I just had that door fixed!”

Barclay shuts off his end of the communication, stands and stretches as he regards the security feeds from his cameras scattered through the woods. Being fifty miles from the nearest town was supposed to make him feel safer; lately it makes him the frustrating combo of lonely and paranoid. 

Then again, does it really count as paranoia if Agent X is always on his tail? The man is intelligent, and has government resources behind him. If he wants to find Barclay, Barclay has a bad feeling he’ll be found.

Worse, he suspects he wouldn’t mind being found.

That’s part of why he’d called Indrid. Yes, he wanted feedback on his new look, but Indrid is one of the few people he trusts to understand his situation. They each chose cryptid aliases (Mothman and Bigfoot). They fell into villainy through similar channels; Indrid from being chased out of towns with (usually figurative) pitchforks one too many times when he was just trying to help, Barclay because he’d learned to survive mostly on his own and grown tired of seeing certain kinds of evil rewarded while things that didn’t even count as evil were harshly punished. But Indrid also understood what it meant to get a crush on the very person who was hunting you. 

He knows the affection is one-sided. Agent X is the put-together, cultured, cosmopolitan; Barclay is not (were you to ask his friends, they would argue that being tidy, well-read, and widely traveled shakes out to the same thing).

The elevator ride from his underground hideout to the main cabin is brief. Another ding in his villainy score is that he really loves his rustic, cozy home, and only uses his fancier tech for work. What’s the point of a suite in some skyscraper? You can’t even have a proper back porch. 

Maybe he should start a fire in the fireplace, or read that stack of food magazines he has squirreled away. He could reheat dinner too, homemade green onion pancakes and bao for one. 

In any case, he’s not going to get anything serious done tonight, as he doesn’t really scheme in the way his fellow villains do. His actions are a tad more impulsive, in response to the government or certain corporations doing corrupt shit. Besides, the forecast calls for a snowstorm, and he’d rather not get stranded in the woods. 

After settling on the couch he picks up the top magazine, a travel issue. 

Twenty romantic getaways off the beaten path

Hmmmm, would Agent X like the beach? Or is he more of a mountains guy?

He should read a different article

8 recipes to cook for a special someone

What the fuck, this is supposed to be the travel issue, not the valentines day issue.

After sorting through the pile, he grabs the Halloween issue from last year and heads upstairs. He needs to sleep, only partially because sleep might keep him from daydreaming about his arch-nemisis. 

The black boots come off and he sets them in his closet. Hops onto the bed and stretches out.

Somewhere in the middle of a fascinating article on cast iron pans, he falls asleep. 

When he wakes up, his arms are trapped above his head and someone else is reading his magazine.

“I’d been meaning to read this issue. Their writing is always excellent.” Agent X looks up, smiling mildly.

“Glad I could help. Now help me back by untying me.”

Agent X sighs, “You know very well I can’t do that.”

“So what, you break in here just to read my shit?”

“Of course not. Actually, I didn’t choose to come this time.” he stands, producing a slender, silver device from his sleeve, “In fact, I’m being reassigned.”

“Wait, how the fuck is that even a thing? You’re a ‘hero’ you pick your enemies.”

“No, I’m a government agent. And they’ve decided that you are not nearly a large enough threat for me to keep chasing you. Never mind that I devoted years of my life to the endeavor.” Barclay finds the bitterness oddly flattering. As the agent talks, Barclay moves his hands; there’s a reason he taught his security AI ASL. The mirror behind his enemy flickers to life, showing him a video feed of the Snowspeeder Agent X used to get there.

“They were going to assign me to chase The Mothman, but his nemesis is….very territorial and they decided that was not a wise move.”

Barclay can’t help snorting out a laugh. 

“This isn’t funny.”

“Trust me, that bit’s hilariou-oh shit” he registers the solemn look on Agent X’s face, “Are you supposed to fucking kill me?”

The tricky thing about a nemesis who wears glorified sunglasses is that it makes his face hard to read most times, but right now he looks horrified.

“No. I, I was allowed to decide how best to handle you as a threat, and I do not believe you’re that dangerous. So I’m just going to install a tracking chip in your spine and be on my way.”

“Like hell you are.” Barclay curls in defensively, signs “destroy.” In the mirror, the snowspeeder silently explodes.

“Barclay, please, don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“Don’t fucking tag me like some wild animal then.”

“I don’t have a choice.”

Barclay growls, “That’s been your line for three fucking years. You’ve got choices, agent, we all do.”

“You’re right. And you could have chosen something other than a life of crime.”

“Don’t act like you know what I choices I was given. And don’t come any closer with that thing.”

Agent X takes a half step before Barclays feet connect with his chest, sending him clattering into the dresser and the tracker pen under the bed. 

“Shoulda tied those too agent!” With all his might he yanks on the cuffs snapping the wrung of the headboard.

“Is this really how you want our last interaction to go?” Agent X stands, nightstick coming free from his belt. 

“Nope.” Barclay charges him, the agent sliding gracefully out of is path. Just as they pass, Barclay spins, cuffs connecting with the agents hand.

They glow green, accepting the fingerprint. 

“Damn it.” The Agent turns on a dime, launching at him.

“Three years, agent, I know your gadgets as well as you do. Sorry about the speeder.”

He points at the mirror and Agent X glances away momentarily to look.

“Shit.”

“Yep. Have fun getting back on foot. If you stop fighting, I can loan you a snow-cat.”

Agent X turns the stun function of his nightstick on in response. 

“C’mon really?!” Barclay growls, pounces before the agent has a chance to react, and hurls him into the mirror. 

It shatters, and the agent falls, crumpled and clutching his arm, to the ground. Barclay straddles him, pinning him on his stomach, immaculate black suit ripped in the back.

“Okay, let’s try this again: You’re going to stop attacking me, break that tracker thing in half, and then I’ll give you the keys to something that can get you out of here.”

“I can’t, I cannot fail this mission.”

Barclay does his best, wicked smirk, “In that case, I get one more thing for all the trouble you’ve caused.”

With that, he rips off Agent X’s mask and goggles. 

The face beneath them is better than he ever envisioned: sharp cheekbones, blue eyes, movie star handsome in every way.

His gaze is unflinching, enraged, and when his fingers curl minutely Barclay grabs his hand and pries it open.

In the center is white, cylindrical pill.

“Is this...fuck, is this a suicide pill?”

“Yes. Now give it back.”

“Not a fucking chance.” He stands, crosses to the window and chucks the pill out into the night, “Christ, agent, do you really think I’m going to torture you?”

When he turns back, arms crossed, the veneer of Agent X’s expression cracks, and he presses his face into the floor with a shuddering gasp. 

“It’s p-protocol. If, if my identity is compromised.”

He wants to be moved by the tears in that voice, but he’s still pretty pissed. 

“You’d swallow a pill for them, just like that. Shit, they really do brainwash you guys.”

“It’s not that.” The agent raises his head, spits out blood, “I still have family. If an enemy knows who I am, they could go after them for leverage. Ending my own life keeps the people I love safe.”

The fight goes out of him and he sighs, “Look, I’m not gonna go after your family, I promise. I won’t share your identity either; I know you’ve probably figured out the identities of people I care about and haven’t ratted them out. Consider this a thank you for that.”  

“They’ll terminate me anyway.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“That’s protocol.”

“Fuck protocol.”

The agent giggles, the sound increasingly hysterical, “I’m quite the triple threat; in one move I lose my job, my safety, and my purpose. I guess I live on your floor now.”

“I’m not gonna make you live on my floor.”

“Your holding cell, then.”

“Uhhhh” Barclay rubs his arm, “I don’t have one. It’s not like anyone besides you has ever tried to infiltrate here.”

“Please tell me you have a guest room.” The agent is still hiccuping laughs.

“Yeah. I can fix it up real quick for you.” 

Agent X sits up, wincing, “You’re really letting me stay?”

“I mean, yeah? No way I’m sending you back to people who we know will kill you. I know you think I’m a villain, but I don’t really want people getting hurt. And I respect you as an adversary, not to mention I actually kind of like you,  Agent X.”

“Joseph.” The agent slowly drags himself up onto the bed. “It’s just Joseph now. Joseph Stern.”

“Don’t seem like there’s much ‘just’ to you, Mr. Overachiever.”

Joseph tries flipping him off, only to flinch when he moves his arm. 

“Good lord, I thought that wasn’t a real mirror, why is there so much glass in my skin?”

“Uh, you know how when you drop a cell phone and the screen kinda-splinters and you can get bits of it in your fingers? That’s basically what happened to your back. Uh, sorry.”

“It was in self defense.”

“Will you let me help? I got lots of first aid stuff.”

Joseph nods and Barclay hurries into the bathroom to grab one of the two dozen med kits scattered around the house. 

“On your stomach.”

The other man rolls over, and Barclay gets to work on his back. Joseph remains stoic the entire time, until Barclay begins dousing the cuts with disinfectant, at which point he hisses. 

“I know, I hate this shit too. Dunno why people are always inventing new torture devices and interrogation techniques, this’d do the trick on most people I know.”

“Very true. It’s alright, pain is deserved when you fuck up as royally as I did tonight.”

“Hey, none of that, okay?” Barclay says gently, easing the tatters of Josephs shirt off, “That pain isn’t a punishment, it’s something I’m doing to keep you safe and so you can heal. You don’t deserve to be hurt, Joseph. And I’m sorry for all the times you ended up that way because we fought. I know it comes with the territory, but that doesn’t mean I can’t apologize.”

Silence as he finishes bandaging that well-developed back, and as he cleans up the debris from the fight and the aftermath.

“In that case” Joseph murmurs, “ I’m sorry too. For, well, for any time during the last three years where I hurt you.”

“Apology accepted.” Barclay sits down on the bed, facing his guest, who turns his head to smile weakly at him.

“What happens now?”

“No clue. I can heat up some dinner, and there’s lots of books here, and some movies. Even got a couple of video games for when friends visit. Or you can sleep, if you want.”

Joseph gives him a curious look, “I meant to ask, is this what you wear at home all the time?” 

Barclay blushes, “No, uh, I was just trying out a new costume. Usually wear, like, my flannel shirts and stuff.” 

Joseph cautiously rolls onto his side for a better look. A prolonged, hungry, better look.

“What do you think?” Barclay keeps his eyes fixed on the headboard and not on the lines of muscle on Josephs stomach. 

“I think you look like you should be cruising the Folsom Street Fair looking for some gym bunny who’ll call you sir.”

“Is that a...good thing?” 

“Yes.”

When he meets those blue eyes, their pupils are wide.

Barclay chuckles, “You gonna call me, ‘sir, babe?”

“Only if you want me to.”

The bed dips as shifts to be next to Stern, “Nah, but I’ve been dying to fuck you since the Pipeline Incident.”

“Lord, Barclay, that was a year ago. But the answer is yes.” Stern tries to sit up, but Barclay rests a hand on his shoulder, kissing his cheek.

“I just patched you up, babe, so how’s about we keep this simple for tonight?”

“Oh, okay, uh, how should we?” Stern is blushing, head dipping in slight deference, and it’s the most gratifying goddamn thing Barclay has ever seen. 

“Get those pants off, lay on your stomach, and put your ass in the air.” He sits back so Stern can obey, which he does as quickly as possible.

“Good boy.” Barclay rumbles, sitting behind him, “Shit, all that superhero training makes for an amazing ass.” He rubs it possessively, Stern moaning softly at the touch. 

“Thank you.” 

“Think it’ll look even better with my handprints on it?” The question is breezy as he drags a nail along the right cheek, waiting for Sterns permission.

“Yes.” Stern whispers into the pillows.

Barclay swats the right side, “What was that?”

“Yes!” Stern cries out, wiggling his hips in response. 

“Much better.” He hits four more times, two for each side, Stern yelping with delight at each one.

“Now, let’s get one thing straight,” He grabs Sterns hips, pulls his ass against his crotch, grinding slowly, the pants for his definitely not for work anymore outfit just tight enough to give excellent friction from the movement, “I get the feeling you get off on a little pain. And I sure as hell like watching you squirm from it. And” he smacks his left side, for fun, “I bet you think you deserve this.”

Five slaps, fast and with more force behind them.

“Yes, yes, Barclay, please.”

“You’re right, you do. But not because you deserve to be hurt, or to suffer. You deserve to feel good, Joseph. And the second this stops feeling good and you start using it as punishment, I stop doing it. We clear?”

“Crystal.” Stern whimpers at the next slap, and Barclay bends forward to loving kiss a line up his throat and nuzzle his cheek. 

“Good boy. You okay to touch yourself--hah, that answers that.” He laughs as Sterns right hand disappears beneath him and his mouth parts in a moan.

“Fuck, Barclay, I, I’ve, nhhnn, I’ve wanted this so long.”

“Me too babe. God, Joseph, you got any idea how fucking incredible you are?” He finds an angle that lets him continue rutting against his ass and kissing his neck and face without touching his injuries.

“No, perhaps you can say more?” Stern grins 

Barclay growls, delivers a particularly hard slap, “Oughta make you stop jerking off since you’re fishing for compliments but, fuck, babe, you look so goddamn hot when you’re moaning and twisting around under me, shit, I love hearing your voice, and your smile makes me forget my fucking name and fuck, fuck, yeah, ohyeah.” He tugs Stern close as he comes, keeps pouring out increasingly jumbled praise as Stern tenses in his arms and comes across the covers with the most erotic sound Barclay has ever had the good luck to hear.

“Lord almighty I needed that.” 

Barclay chuckles, guides them both down into a comfortable cuddle, “Glad I could help. You hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Okay, lemme rinse off and I can make us dinner.”

By the time he’s out of the shower Stern has stripped and remade the bed with clean covers, and takes his hand as they head downstairs. Barclay reheats the leftovers and makes them tea while Stern reads to him about fifty of the best new restaurants in the west. 

The next morning, the FBI’s villain control division receives word that Agent X has been killed in the line of duty. 

Three weeks later, they learn that Bigfoot has a new partner: the man in black. 

[sgnjoowon]

hey hey everyone! this is my first time in seongnam and i’m super excited to be here. it’s kind of late for me, but i wanted to throw up an intro for my boi before i head to bed, so here we are! this is noh joowon, twenty two year old junior. he’s an animation major and a pretty popular BL webtoon author, but that last part is a ~*secret*~. he’s pretty loud and outspoken and often times annoying but he’s a... well... not good boy but a fun boy? anyway! i have his ABOUT, BACKGROUND, and PLOTS pages up if you’d like to take a look, but i’ll drop some info and wanted connections under the cut! and if you’d like to plot, please hit like on this post and i’ll pop into your ims, or you can reach me on TWITTER if you’d prefer to plot there! ♥️

QUICK FACTS !

so tl;dr - 22, a junior, majoring in animation with a minor in art. wanted to do things the other way around but he fucked up his registration forms and went with it

is also a pretty popular BL webtoon author under the pen name byungari (you can find more info about his webtoons here). only a handful of people know about this... it’s a Big Secret, he’ll have to end you if you find out

basically, entered a webtoon contest online in freshman year - didn’t win, but the company asked him for a story outline and quickly sent a contract over for a serialized webtoon to be published online. it did well, and then he got a contract for another one which was also well received/ranked

long story short, he just recently started publishing webtoon #3 which takes some heavy inspiration from the seongnam campus, so you’ll probably see familiar landmarks and faces if you follow it closely... honestly, he’s not all that subtle

anyway! he has a makeshift studio in the student centre and an assistant to help out with meeting deadlines and such. even then most days he barely submits his work on time and he’s always drawing in class instead of paying attention

considered a campus cryptid because he barely attends class and yet manages to pass most things... actually he’s there, just tucked in the back napping or quietly taking notes. he doesn’t participate much unless whatever’s going on is ‘interesting’

it’s just weird because he’s v. loud and opinionated otherwise - will get into debates right in the middle of class when it’s a subject he’s passionate (and right) about. some of his classmates are just straight up scared of getting into it with him

part of the art club (nominally; he joined because he felt obligated to but he doesn’t participate much), the cooking club (kinda; he’s just there for the food and also never like... ‘officially’ joined), and the paranormal club (this one’s legit. he loves paranormal stuff)

is the baby of his family; has 2 older siblings but they have a significant age gap with him so they were never close while growing up. they’re both like... very academically aligned with ~respectable careers~ (professor and doctor) so sometimes joowon feels like the odd one out with his focus on animation/art

his parents are divorced - dad has a whole other family that joowon has complicated feelings about!! he doesn’t like to think on it too much. was raised primarily by his mom while his dad really just pays for his education and stuff. compared to most kids from divorced homes he feels like he’s pretty well adjusted

his family isn’t super elite or wealthy, but they’re probably like... very comfortable but also very well connected with people who are considered elite (dad’s a lawyer and mom is the chairman/director of a elite private academy)

incidentally, went to that private academy before attending seongnam. it was very academics focused even though joowon was... not. but his parents are like whelp we did it right with the first two kids so it’s okay if kid #3 is into art and shit as long as he graduates from a good uni! hence him being at seongnam

really, his post graduation plans are just ‘i am going to make more webtoons and then maybe work in animation’ and he’s pretty happy with that

he’s very... hm... very blunt and straightforward in most of his dealings with people. super loud and confident and doesn’t hold back even if there’s a risk he might offend someone. he’s also pretty impulsive and short tempered so it doesn’t take much for him to go off. like, he’s passionate about a lot of things and sometimes that explodes out of him in a not-fun way

but he’s also like a very open, easy-to-befriend kinda guy, super supportive of his friends and generous where it counts. he’s very loyal and the kind of person who’d fight you but also fight FOR you in a heartbeat. he hates unhappy endings so he’s always trying to low key look out for his friends even if!! admitting he cares is embarrassing!!

he’s a cute kid who can be a lot sometimes. please be his friend anyway

WANTED CONNECTIONS !

friends!! some super casual friends to spend time with in between classes or grab a bite to eat with - he’s honestly pretty friendly when it comes down to it and even if you don’t know him well, he’ll probably consider you a pal. maybe you got paired for some activity during freshman orientation and stuck together, shared classes in the past, etc. you just know joowon as an entertaining dude

fellow animation / art majors or minors!! classmates, people to get stuck doing group projects with, we always work on our assignments together, looking for an empty studio to write and found you there so uh can we share. or on the flip side, department rivals?? getting into arguments / heated debates in the middle of class and getting sent out? always competing to see who’s better but they’re both good!

art club members who are like please come to a meeting please please come to just one meeting - or, y’know, forcibly drag or trick him into participating. someone who recruited him into the art club to begin with and now they have regrets. someone who finds an old exhibition piece he did for the club or something and is like omg please come back sunabe i want to learn from you--

cooking club members who he kind of follows around because they make really good food. people who don’t realize he’s not officially in the club and try to get him to participate but he’s like these hands are not made for cooking. someone who does realize but is like aw he’s harmless let him hang around. let him lick the spoon--

paranormal club bros... it’s the one club he’s actually serious about for reasons unknown (actually, it’s known: he wants to fuck a vampire) so members who share similar interests or just like his intensity or just think he’s a riot. maybe they try to film their own version of buzzfeed unsolved and hit up a bunch of supposedly haunted places or chase paranormal activity idk

people who read / have read his webtoons! whether they’re fans of him or antis... maybe someone he’s friends with irl who reads every update but doesn’t know he’s the author, or someone he’s friends with irl who hates the webtoon and joowon has to stop themselves from fighting them. or like... interacting on twitter about the webtoons, someone who writes fic or draws fanart and always dms it to him, idk, someone who leaves hate comments whom he fights with on a sock account?? 

he has a weird relationship with sunbaes in the sense that he can get really needy / attention-seeking around them (maybe he craves the close older sibling figures he’s never had in his life!) so sunbaes he can bother / be cute around. whether they tolerate him, shoo him away, or take care of him... idk

enemies?? for various reasons - maybe they’re rivals, maybe they just pissed joowon off or vice versa, maybe they just made eye contact and challenged each other to a fight pokemon style, maybe he just can’t stand the way they act, but enemies are fun...

some romantic connections like exes? hasn’t dated much recently maybe a few people in the past, or like people who have confessed to him but he turned them down pretty callously. or someone who falls in love with his art and thinks that means they like joowon but when they try to get to know him they’re like oh... oh no

i know i missed a bunch of stuff but i have more specific plots here if nothing sparks your interest + and i’m always open to brainstorm something as well! 

[burstbombbitch]

just small headcanon things 

everything is genderfluid and no one is assigned a gender

body parts and sizes can obviously change

there is a natural limit so like, xiuying couldn’t give herself big badonkadonks if she wanted to

not like they’d have usage other than aesthetic anyway

tentacles likewise have a natural length. yin’s can’t grow anymore. she won’t cut them either

inklings can bleed out if you go at them enough

they can also be prunes ha

they lost the ability to swim because the water around them was shit

the water also being around them being shit means they dissolve

this does not happen in good water to the same degree

in good water, instead, if you go in too fast that’s when you get dissolvey but not instantaneously you gotta calm tf down fluid boy

respawn has a range limit there’s probably a bunch around

prior to gtw, octarians made them AND is the reason inkopolis can function with tech at all fuckers. we turned your power on.

humanoid jellyfish are definitely scary but beautiful thanks. absolutely nothing like inklings or octolings they probably have no faces but vague shapes like a fucking cryptid and i will love them

some species probably didn’t want to look humanoid. and thus, do not. these species either don’t have forms, or have long refused to use them to the point where, like inklings don’t know how to swim, they do not know how to switch.

no loss to them!

cephalopods can turn their head 360 degrees watch me bitch

“acid” rains happen often since the water around them is shit

umbrellas anyone?

masks makeup is absolutely a thing

you can definitely tell when its makeup because the points don’t hang off their face

unless they’ve got some contour skill who the fuck knows

natural masks are envied, maybe it’s maybelline

eye patterns are also envied

they’re probably mutations

speaking of makeup

stuff like lotion and perfume probably seeps into their skin or is ingested

their ink smells like it for a while

same with soap as long as it’s safe for consumption

otherwise it will probably be too strong on their inky bodies and can dissolve you a bit and burn

don’t do that kids

they absolutely have tried to use their ink for signing shit just go get out of it later because of the bacteria that eats their ink later. how to get out of shitty contracts: “i never signed this!”

they absolutely have stuff for restraint. it’s not shit like rope. it’s stuff that shrinks with your form so you can’t get out, or injections the equivalent to a disruptor. none of that escape bs

stuff like “nails” on them is probably just cartilage. navarre’s nails are cartilage.

that’s it for now thanks for listening to my ted talk

[jennamoran]

The Horizon Campaign (14)

Link to the Chuubo’s Marvelous Wish-Granting Engine RPG, on DriveThru

Link to Fortitude: the Glass-Maker’s Dragon, on DriveThru

Let’s talk some more about the Horizon campaign(s)!

Previously,

we built some connections between prospective Main Characters and Egyptian deities.

Then, we looked at what characters the campaign would have to have, pulled some out into a possible secondary campaign, and worked on assigning starting Arc colors.

Then, we explored some possible new characters for the secondary campaign, including the Mystery Typhon… but even after two different takes on her, we weren’t quite there.

Then, we finalized something like a concept there and looked at gender-balancing the default versions of our sets of eight characters.

Then, we assigned Arc colors and archetypes to the characters in the secondary campaign, and started talking about Rinley’s first story in that campaign.

Then we made a first stab at that story … and failed!

So we tried again!

and then did a couple more Rinley stories

and a couple more …

and took a brief break to sum up what we had.

Then, we sketched out the corresponding quest set.

Then, we figured out its metadata.

Then, we worked out the first quest!

Then, we started our work on the second, but, because I went into real detail on the design of the quest options, didn’t actually finish it.

           Today, let’s continue!

          Right, Where Were We?

We were going to try to build quest flavor or major goal bullets from ideas I’d loosely recorded as “trouble with authority,” “reporting/recording,” “meals in groups,” some kind of Catering Committee/school paper/cryptid hunting parallel, some kind of weird science thing, following hunches/leads/investigations/Hoop Snake, something about a grand conspiracy outside the scope of where you were, festivals of the past, “legacies,” “weird creatures,” “hunting,” “don’t be there,” and “here are some people to fit in with.” 

There were more, but we did them already!

So let’s buckle in and get started.

                              Trouble with Authority

Here, the connection that I’m drawing is between “wicked teachers. Trouble with hall monitors.” and Principal Entropy I ... but one can extrapolate to tying it to the Grey Prince, maybe to leaders of the unworldly tribes, maybe? To Owler, certainly, maybe to ghost overseers and Principal Entropy II before time-travel kicks in in book #4.

So like:

you’re challenged by a monster in a position of power

            I’m equivocating on ‘monster’ here between ghosts and things that bump in the night, and genuinely awful things and people.

I think a lot of these confrontations are about a sense of building dread, so the color is [[SWORD]].

(Or [[FLAME?]] ... nah, I think Rinley wins these.)

And some of these are more equal, more about Rinley as the troublemaker that keeps getting away with it and making the authority figure look a bit foolish. The campy anti-villain. This leads to a question, which is:

What color is “You’ll always remember this as the day that you almost caught Rinley Yatskaya?”

It’s definitely not orange, red, gold, purple, or silver. It’s probably not black.

Blue involves monologues, which seems to fit in general but which I’m having a hard time mapping to specific scenes that I imagine.

I guess Utena handles the antagonist teacher in episode 1 with a monologue (or possibly the monologue is on the second encounter? I dunno. It’s a short monologue, anyway, and I think there may even be blue-heavy visuals), and I guess Utena vs. antagonist teacher in season 1 is the only “troublemaker making authority figure at a school look foolish” scene I actually have in active memory—

Decades later, ECT still makes it hard to find specific examples instead of a vague fog of “a lot of scenes like this exist, right?”—

... even so, it just feels a little weird that scenes like that should always involve monologues.

Green—believe it or not—might be a much better fit to “ha ha!” cut through a rope and grab a rope and fly up through the ceiling ... kind of troublemaker escapes. You’re under pressure, you’re not defending perfectly, in theory you should lose. Only, instead, surreal stuff happens!

Afterwards, technically, you’ve still lost ground, but it’s separated from the original situation.

Also green works as a wicked action if, y’know, you probably shouldn’t go around when hall monitors ask for your hall pass slicing through ropes that are mysteriously anchored in the hallway and sailing off through the ceiling. Why? Well, both on the grounds that you’re doing it anyway, wrong as it is, and on the grounds that, well, what

I ...

I think I am actually going to drop [[SWORD.]]

That’s cheating, I know, but ... well, [[GREEN]] is adequate for expressing encounters with seriously menacing enemies, too, you know? It’s actually worse than [[SWORD]] when it’s bad.

[[BLUE]][[GREEN]] you’re challenged by a monster in a position of power

            Reporting/Recording

It’s been a fair number of hours since I wrote the original list---even more, now that I’m posting this in parts---and when I first got to this option TBH I thought I was going to drop it. I mean, I already sort of covered a lot of it in the previous options, I thought?

But as I looked at book #2, Ouroboros House, I was reminded of like shelves and shelves of journals from former students’ exploration of the Outside.

And at book #5, how it started with an intrepid reporter’s report.

And at book #3 ...

It was trying to make it fit in book #3, and realizing that maybe that involves letters home, and that I like stuff where you narrate intrepid reporting, that changed my mind.

So something like:

[[BLUE]][[MOON]] you compose part of a letter, journal entry, or news article

                      Catering Committee/School Paper Parallel

So this is about, basically, you have an extracurricular activity that’s kind of formalized. You’re part of a team and there’s official sanction somewhere. Presumably in book #2 there’s, like, a study group or orientation or team explorations of the Outside or something, and in book #3 cryptid hunting is the closest we can get.

What kind of official sanction? ... I want to say “School’s,” but there’s a possibility that it’s, like, the Horizon Regional Council, there’s probably one, or something like that, for the cryptid hunting thing? I don’t know. Maybe let’s just leave it in the group’s hands:

you work on something for a recognized extracurricular activity or club

            This currently has some overlap with “You visit a lab, archive, or room full of books”—I’m thinking about archive research in both cases. Maybe I should exempt archive research from this because of that overlap and focus more on intrepid reporting and ... catering ... and go with, like, blue, here?

... but I just can’t convince myself it’s more important than crook or moon here.

[[CROOK]][[MOON]] you work on something for a recognized extracurricular activity or club

            Meals in Groups

In book #2, that’s all about, eating with your peers in Ouroboros House.

In book #5, you’re eating with the Catering Committee, or at something you’ve catered. In book #4, probably … like, with the ghosts, or with the S.E.E.D.s, or maybe with Akino or a Principal Entropy. Book #3 tends to be a bit of an odd book out so I think it’s probably like a youkai bar. Maybe a lot like the one from Uchouten Kazoku.

So, just ...

you have a meal with your weird, weird peer group.

            Technically, that will almost always be “the PCs.” Maybe, if the story is lucky, it will be, like, the NPCs and you and another PC or two.

I thought about specifying NPCs, and then specifying that other PCs can be there.

But then I decided that the more PCs you have in a game, the more you probably should substitute the PCs in these stories for the group of people you’re “supposed” to hang out with, like, narratively. If you’re in a nine-player game or whatever, then it’s just sabotaging the game to deny that they’re your primary peer group in every story; if you’re in a two- or three-player game, you may wind up having short private scenes with NPCs, anyway, on your own.

So maybe evolve it a tiny bit into:

you have a meal with a weird peer group in a weird but appropriate place.

                                ... to ensure that you’re actually in a youkai bar or catered event or Ouroboros House lounge or whatever, without restricting who is actually there.

Let’s see.

Colors.

I think Blue shows up again here; in theory, you’d expect Shared Reactions at a dinner table, but I’m not imagining vulnerability and communication, I’m expecting hubbub and revelation.

So:

[[BLUE]][[MOON]] you have a meal with a weird peer group in a weird but appropriate place.

                      P.S. Will We Be Going Through All This Every Time?

I probably can’t afford to spend multiple entries for every quest, but I’m glad I am in a position to show you my thinking process this time. ^_^

                      Deviant Science

As noted, hanging out with a deviant scientist is a definite feature of book #3, and there are ways that it can show up in the others.

The “feel” in my head is a little softer than Leonardo. Like, I guess I want them to be cool? Not Doc Brown level, this is still a horror setting, but, you know. I want there to be a reason that Rinley hangs out with deviant scientists and unworldly tribes in book #3, and it’s not that Rinley has lost their way, although they sort of have, it’s that the deviant scientists are more weird than wicked and the unworldly tribes are more the dorky gang archetype than the horrible gang archetype.

They’re hanging out with misfits who are basically cool.

In the big picture I’d rather they were a little shady, but honestly it’s tricky to make scary outsiders who turn out to actually be OK then turn out to be a little shady without unfortunate implications, and I don’t know just how much time the fictional book series would have for that. I mean, it’s not an insuperable obstacle, it’s just, let’s assume that the deviant scientists here are basically, as people, all right.

OK, so, something like:

hanging out with a deviant scientist

                      ... except that’s a little ... loose? Like, any PC can buy a point of Deviant Science and suddenly watching a movie with them is a quest goal? It’s weird.

[[CROOK]][[MOON]] talking shop with a deviant scientist

                      I think that works.

                      What About the Unworldly Tribes?

As I was typing that I was thinking a bit about adding in “or someone from an unworldly tribe” and I mostly hesitated because, like, I don’t know what talking shop with them would be. So maybe it has to be a separate thing.

... but it probably shouldn’t be in there at all because ... the tribes are a social unit, and anyone from the tribes who shows up in School won’t be there in that social unit. They’re too vulnerable to attend en masse.

And most of the Rinley books are set at School.

Maybe more like:

[[RED]][[BLUE]] socializing with ghosts, monsters, and things that go bump in the night

                      Weird choice of colors, but I think that this is a very literal hanging out:

When hanging out with ghosts in book #4, we’re talking about, like, watching them do weird stuff, seeing the ghost secrets. When hanging out with the unworldly tribes in book #3, it’s like, hanging out with them while they do stuff, watching the world go by. Maybe you decide to do something?

                      Following a Hunch

So here I’m trying to pair up intrepid reporter “following a hunch” with the concept of chasing Hoop Snake. This is tricky.

I guess the phrasing for chasing Hoop Snake is something like “chasing an idea” ... no. Hm.

Some tries:

diving after something—a lead? a person? a trail?—without knowing ...

following a trail, lead, or hunch without knowing where it’ll take you

chasing something (e.g., a hunch, a cat, a lead) without knowing where it’ll take you

                      Hm.

The problem I’m having is getting the nuance right for both “follow that hoop snake!” and “I’ve got a hunch I should stake this place out.”

Maybe:

the game’s afoot!

                      ... and let the player interpret how they please?

This loses some of the ability to keep using it during investigations—like, this is how an investigation starts or takes a new turn, not something you can keep using chapter after chapter as you close in on something—but honestly I guess I feel like multi-chapter chases and mid-investigation stakeouts are both straining the analogy anyway.

So,

[[BLUE]][[GREEN]] the game’s afoot!

                      A Grand Conspiracy

The existence of a grand conspiracy outside the scope of Rinley’s immediate life is not a quest action. Discovering it, though, is probably a viable major goal.

This might actually fit quest 3 better, since it’s not clear that the Grey Prince or anything else like that is even mentioned before then. Probably, but not necessarily.

I guess there could be like hints of this stuff in quest 2, and good pacing suggests there would be, and encountering that might be a quest flavor action?

I’m actually going to go with both for now:

[MAJOR GOAL] You discover a grand conspiracy or secret related to this Arc

something hints as to the secrets of this Arc

            ... and then change my mind!

... because player-triggered “something, I can’t authoritatively decide what, hints as to what’s going on, which I already know, because I read at least that page of this campaign, hopefully” is kind of ... flat.

Maybe I should just go with the major goal, on the theory that, like, there are always plenty of secrets and conspiracies around.

[MAJOR GOAL] You discover a grand conspiracy or secret related to this Arc

                      Events

It looks like I already boiled down a thought process that started at event planning and became “festivals of the past.”

[[RED]][[MOON]] you attend a remembrance or a festival focusing on the past

                      In Fortitude, these were predominantly [[CROOK]][[MOON]] but I think these are a little lonelier.

I ... may be wrong, TBH, but whatever, in a Gothic game scanting purple on suggestions won’t actually matter much. We’ll hopefully remember to see when making the simplified version.

                      Legacies

It’s been a day and a half (and now a couple more!), and I don’t remember why I wrote this!

I guess that Ouroboros House is, like, a legacy of a previous generation. And there are records of the Catering Committee going back for X years. And obviously there’s a hand-off from Principal Entropy I to Principal II.

I’m just not feeling it.

Ignored!

                      Weird Creatures

... believe it or not, I think I’m going to stop for a to be continued here. This quest! It’s just ...

It’s kind of in depth!

[aromanticasterisms]

im thinking about edolas counterparts

when you think about it, they’re the same character as their earthland counterparts, just in a different world. they grew up differently. they reacted to that circumstance differently. that one crucial turning point in their lives never happened to them.

lucy ashley is similar to lucy heartfilia, in some ways. her father is overbearing and controlling. her future is in his hands, being laid out before her. she doesn’t have a say. there is no solace in that house; no friends in the shape of her late mother’s celestial spirits. she closes herself off, becomes cold, and lashes out. she dreams of the day she will finally leave; maybe taken in the night by a dark guild and finding an unexpected family. she dreams and she dreams until finally she can’t stand her father any longer. as she leaves her father’s manor, she chops off her hair, flips him the bird, and never looks back. if you really want to change something, take it into your own hands.

natsu dragion is terrified. there is no dragon, no burning flame inside of him providing him with boundless strength. there is no ever-present, powerful family around him, telling him that with each other, they can accomplish anything. what he does have is a small, desperate and scared family constantly on the run, with numbers dwindling with each escape. what he does have is a sister figure who beats him up to make him stronger (who loves him and who he loves, but he really wishes she would lay off the punishments once in a while like lucy please). what he does have is an enormous magic four-wheeler with wheels that catch on fire. which is pretty sick. he’d like to see the fairy hunter try and fight a vehicle coming at her at over a hundred miles per hour. behind the wheel, inside the walls of the four-wheeler, he is safe. he is powerful. and he is fast. the fastest, actually. he can outrun any monster, any royal squadron, any problem and any enemy. and that’s enough for him.

wendy doesn’t like humans. her adoptive mother doesn’t like them either. they’re too brash, they think fighting solves everything. they think if they want something badly enough, it’s free for them to take. the king of edolas continually steals from earthland, claiming it’s for the greater good, for the good of edolas, but even wendy, as young as she is, can see it’s to sate his own greed. his own lust for power. she doesn’t like humans. she especially hates the ones that pick on her new friends; the timid boy who won’t stop apologizing, the older boy who constantly challenges authority, and the black and white pair of her age that won’t stop bickering and also won’t leave each other’s side. seeing them get hurt sends her into action. she takes them all on--anyone and everyone who raises a hand against her friends. she hates humans, but some of them aren’t so bad. and those ones are worth fighting for.

cana loves her father. gildarts is a well-off nobleman, who raised cana on his own to be a proper lady. maybe not quite proper enough, she thinks as she steeps her tea in the middle of fairy tail’s guild hall. her father would surely chastise her for joining a dark guild, but she can’t help it. she loves her friends, her family, dearly. it breaks her heart each time the guild loses a member. she doesn’t understand why the king still wants to fight after all this time. all cana wants is to sit with her friends and have a nice cup of tea. all she wants is for everyone to be safe and happy. jet kicks over a table for the third time today and natsu stumbles by, crying as lucy sits on his shoulders and argues with levy across the room. not quite what she envisioned. even so, she smiles behind her cup, there’s nowhere else she would rather be.

mavis never casts law. she ages normally, staying with her newfound family and remaining fairy tail’s master for decades. when the king declares all magic guilds outlawed, she begins to strategize. she already lost one family. she will not lose this one--she will not lose zera this time, nor yuri, precht, or warrod. so she stands tall, stands proud, and defies the king. her strategies bring them victory after victory, and for a while, they win, they celebrate. but their victories are short lived; the king presses down harder on fairy tail. after one especially crushing defeat, where most of the guild barely escaped with their lives, and yuri was fatally wounded, mavis breaks down and cries. this is her fault, she thinks. she should have strategized better, she should have seen that coming, how could she not? how could she be wrong? how could she mess up? how could she let her family get so terribly hurt because of her? she can’t take it. she stands in front of her guild and she offers a heartfelt apology, and steps down. she stays long enough to see that her guild is stable without her, and she leaves. and one last time as the fairy tactician, she doesn’t see something coming. zera leaves with her. 

ivan is a traitor. after mavis steps down, he swoops in with a new strategy: run and hide. the guild has lost almost a third of their members, including their master and one of the other founders. other guilds are crumbling around them. they are heartbroken and terrified. the idea of running, hiding, and staying safe, sounds better than ever. for twenty years, they move their guild somewhere secluded, and run when they’re discovered. they keep to themselves and they are safe for a while. then she arrives. erza knightwalker, a ruthless and cruel captain of the royal army. she sets her sights on the elusive remaining guild and she hunts them relentlessly. they move sooner and sooner, losing more and more members. the guild argues as the time for the fairy hunter’s arrival draws near. ivan slips outside, into the forest the guild is hiding in. they will run like always, he knows this. and he knows where they will run to. he always knows. and through him, the king knows too. family is family, after all. he stands behind the guild and waits. knightwalker’s red hair soon becomes visible in the forest. she is twirling ten commandments in her hand. the guild’s path is predictable, she says by way of greeting. your information is no longer necessary. relieved, he sighs. i can finally return to the castle, then. her spear at his throat makes him think otherwise. he swallows hard. i have provided you with useful information! i have been valuable to you! her spear comes closer. that is no longer the case. as useful as you have been in the past, you are still a fairy. her grin makes his blood run cold. and i kill fairies.

lisanna was a kind soul. she and her siblings grow up in a guild on the run, always on the brink of extinction, and instead of becoming hard like the world around them, they become kind. they smile brightly at the rambunctious guild antics, and softly console grieving friends. their situation is far from desirable, and they know this. but they have nowhere to go. many of their guild members don’t either. so when the fairy hunter is always right on their heels, it’s understandable when the guild panics. some of them accept it, accept their fate, ready to lie down and die. others loudly protest, wanting to stand up and push back, and only go down if they go down fighting. a small amount suggest disbanding and scattering to the winds. we need to decide, someone--probably levy--yells, she’s going to be here any minute! the guild descends into madness, shouting and arguing. things are starting to get out of hand, and lisanna looks around, desperately hoping the master will step in. wait--where is he? i’ll go find the master, she announces, a hand on the door handle, he should be able to settle things. what she does not expect to find in the forest is the master bargaining with erza knightwalker. i have provided you with valuable information! she presses her hands to her mouth, feeling sick. knightwalker cuts him down and she can do nothing but stand in shock. the fairy hunter, with the master’s blood splattered across her armor, spots lisanna and grins.

laxus is lonely. ever since his father infiltrated a dark guild, laxus has been left alone in the royal castle. the king lives there, of course, along with lots of advisers, servants, royal guards, and knights. one of which has been assigned to watch over him after one too many midnight outings. bickslow is stoic, a buzzkill, and no matter what laxus does, he cannot get the man to laugh. even so, he appreciates the company. especially when a green haired thief snatches his wallet and he doesn’t even notice until bickslow runs after him. what laxus thinks he appreciates more, though, is how easy it is to convince him not to alert the authorities. laxus looks at the thief, who has backed himself up against the wall and is looking at the two of them apprehensively, and feels sympathetic. he kneels down and asks him his name. freed.  laxus gives freed some of the money from his wallet. you can just ask next time, though. freed shows up a week later at laxus’s window and asks if he wants to hang out. they become fast, unlikely friends after that, with bickslow as a begrudging chaperone. freed spins dramatic tales and laxus hangs on every word. bickslow is polite enough to wait until the end of a story before pointing out that they’re completely fabricated. laxus knows, but he still loves to listen. one particular tale freed tells sends the three of them to the cobalt forest, looking for a local cryptid, after bickslow says some reports line up with the story. laxus almost instantly gets separated from the other two, and finds himself stumbling into a clearing. sitting facing away from him is a young woman with long, unkempt brown hair. laxus’s blood runs cold. she matches the description almost perfectly. he panics, scrambles backwards, and falls into a bush. the woman whirls around, and after a long, terrifying silence, she laughs. after a while, laxus joins her. he apologizes for startling her, and she smiles. you are not like the others. he takes that as a compliment. he sheepishly explains that he’s kind of sort of totally lost, and she helps him find his way out. they find freed and bickslow at the edge of the forest, and laxus excitedly introduces the two of them to his new friend, evergreen. the four of them build strange, but close bonds even as the kingdom descends further into something none of them like. laxus can’t stand what his father is doing. bickslow can’t stand to see his fellow knights follow terrible orders. freed can’t stand watching people he knows go hungry on the streets. evergreen can’t stand to see the king stealing so much magic for himself. what if we all just left, laxus says one day. just ran away, got away from all this. we could go exploring! go on adventures and see the world! the three of them look between each other, and then back to him. if it’s with you, i don’t see why not.

lisanna strauss is not supposed to be in edolas. she doesn’t exactly know how she got here in the first place. she remembers that beast taking over her brother and sending her flying. she remembers feeling fuzzy and...floating? she thought she died. but here she is, alive and well, being crushed to death in a hug by her sister who is not her sister and her brother who is not her brother. mira isn’t even close, not by a long shot; she’s soft and gentle, not like her sister who is hard and rough to stop the world from hurting her, but who cares so so deeply about the ones she loves. elf reminds her of a younger version of the one she knows; he’s sensitive and timid, and while her brother might be shy, he is stronger than most give him credit for, as he endured the same hardships she and mira did. it’s not quite right, but they’re clinging to her, shaking and crying. we’re so glad you’re alright, we thought she killed you. lisanna looks up at the sky, which isn’t quite the right color, and with a hollow feeling in her chest, she knows she’s here to stay. so she hugs them back, holds them tightly, and mourns the home she will never see again. fairy tail in edolas is wrong. it’s wrong, so wrong, it’s off in so many ways, but she smiles at all the people who cry when they see her, who hug her just as tightly as mira and elf. she pretends she doesn’t remember much, and people fill her in with recent news and old history. it works for a while, but there are still parts missing, parts she doesn’t fully comprehend. it feels like trying to solve a puzzle with a handful of pieces you’ve stolen from someone else. mirajane shows her a picture of the three of them from a few years ago. lisanna looks like her, she thinks as she holds it, but not quite. her hair in the picture is shorter. she cuts it. lisanna wore longer dresses than she does. she changes clothes. she makes it work. this is her home now, this is her family now. this is where she belongs now. even if she feels like a puzzle piece forced into the wrong spot; bent at the edges, not quite fitting with the ones around her. even if the ground she walks on, the air she breathes, the very world around her feels wrong, as if screaming at her that she’s out of place. even if she’s not quite sure who she is anymore, somewhere between lisanna strauss and lisanna from edolas. even if she cries some nights, homesick, missing her family, her fairy tail, torn between wanting to go home and not wanting to make her siblings cry again. lisanna strauss is not supposed to be in edolas, but she’s staying anyway.