#almost done with mr mothman

[navvigating]

shopping for dmc thread in hobby lobby while listening to chappell roan is an experience

[toastydoll]

My Favorite G1'rs that Need to Come Back

I'm loving the new season of g3 so far, so to celebrate I'm making a list of my personal faves from g1 that I'd love to see in g3 again!! Plus at the end I'm gonna include the monsters I don't personally need but think will probably be back somehow :3

Gooliope Jellington! My late addition queen. I love her goopy design, I love that she's so giant compared to the other boos, I love her circus aesthetic!! Ideally her doll would be ginormous again, plus I think they could integrate some novi stars moonbow slime so she's lava lampish. At her giant size, she could probably even still have articulation plus goo! Her character could also be potentially fascinating in g3--is she the daughter of the Blob? Or are her parents mad human scientists, creating experiment 8108?

Wydowna Spider. Her design is PEAK. A doll with six arms would be so cool to see again, especially since the varying body types mean the clothes aren't meant to be swapped like before (so her unique shape shouldn't be much of an issue!). In this gen she might even be a were-spider?

River Styxx! Ever since Draculaura brought up pastel goth aesthetics in Nightmare Nightmore I've been seriously missing River. Yes, she was only in one movie, yes, it was for like thirty seconds, but her design is so creepy cute! Plus her ghost design, semitranslucent with bones peeking through, is one of my absolute favorites. Maybe more focus on her candy love?

Luna Mothews. She was done SO DIRTY in the original (sorry to those who loved her she just was not for me). As a mothman (and Mr. Mothmanson) stan, I need a mothier, West Virginian Luna. Maybe she bonds with Scarah over their shared bad luck prophecy powers. Speaking of...

Scarah Screams. I feel like we're getting a banshee in Mrs. O'Shriek considering her name (and a throwaway line about her yelling), but Scarah was such a sweet and lovely character that I'd just love to see her again. And more Irish this time too! An episode explaining the history of bian sidh lore, complete with explaining the Anglicized spelling, would be super cool!

Sirena von Boo. This is almost purely on design alone. The ghostly mermaid tail, the shadowy finned hands, the chain detailing?? She is so iconic in her design (plus her characterization was p cute). Her color scheme is similar to Spectra, so maybe an update for that. Her character could be a really interesting foray into monster afterlife this gen (aka maybe she's the ghost of a teen mermaid, not a ghost-mermaid hybrid).

Kiyomi Haunterly! Yeah, I loved the ghosts lmao. She was such a cool concept! I loved that her face was barely visible yet still there, her lesbian moments w Drac were all ADORABLE, and it was super cool to see ghost lore from Japan. If they bring back monster exchange I think she'd be so fun to see again through that route.

C.A. Cupid!! Chariclo Arganthone, we've all been missing you since 2013. Please come home to Monster High!! Absolutely adored the concept of a bone elemental, for one, plus her radio persona was so fun! I could see her hosting a matchmaking podcast in g3, plus a missed connections EekTok. Since I hc aro Deuce for g3, I think they'd make really great friends. Plus he could teach her that romantic love/matchmaking isn't for everyone!

Elissabat! With all the focus on the were-ruler this season, plus the focus last season on Dracula's PFFT title and what it meant for Draculaura, I think it could be really interesting to see the traditional Vampire Queen return to Monster High. How do tradition-dependent vampires deal with a power struggle between the original vampire royalty and the premiere, first and foremost top monster? Also getting a GOTH goth character might finally get people to stop griping about how g1 was "way gother!!"

Honey Swamp. Okay yes, same as River, she was in one (1) movie for about forty five seconds, but her crocodilian design was one of my favorites in the entire generation. I always thought she was particularly cool since Lagoona ended up more sea monster than "Creature from the Black Lagoon." Honey was the actual swamp monster!! Plus we've already got New Orleans through Apollo, so why not a little New Goreleans as well? More exploration of human cities and their monster counterparts please!

Robecca Steam. She's so far down the list, but I cannot emphasize how much I need my steampunk queen back. More goggles, more gears, more copper and steam! I loved that her father was human, which frankly could be a really cool idea to explore in g3. What are the ethics of monsters created by humans? If humans are monsters too, was Hexiciah alive during a time of peace?

Rochelle Goyle. Her design was always so classic and chic. We've seen some gargoyles in the series so far, but none of them have been animate (or made their sentience known). Plus she could be great friends with Deuce, and maybe even save the day if his gorgon gaze gets out of control.

Hoodude. I'll be honest: as much as I like the idea of a living Voodou doll, the first generation handled him like garbage. Having Frankie practice rituals from a closed religion to make herself a boyfriend was uh...yeah. G3 could take Hoodude in two interesting directions. For one, they could get a consultant who actually practices Voodou to help design the character. He would be a living doll created by a Voodou practitioner, introducing kids to the idea that Voodou is a real religion currently practiced today that isn't evil, isn't witchcraft, and is deeply culturally important. If they're not willing to put the work in (which, honestly, they've been so much better about in g3), he could also make a really fun renamed living doll/plush.

Vandala Doubloons. Another ghost who showed up for thirty seconds in Haunted? In my list? It's more likely than you'd think lmao. This is solely bc I love pirates and I love ghosts, and think a pirate ghost character is always fun. I prefer her design to Dayna Jones's, but I like the daughter of Davey Jones aspect.

Operetta. Last but absolutely not least, I need the phantom of the oprey back again! Her rockabilly pin up style was so cute and her origin story is so batty (her dad is a human, guys). Honestly she'd work so well in g3 with her "monstrous" human father!

And there they all are! My personal faves from g1, brought back into g3. Some of them are just there for the peak design, some for how their lore could work really really well w g3, all bc I love them :3

Bonus list of characters who should probably come back too (due to importance in g1/popularity):

Jackson Jekyll/Holt Hyde (hello human monster conflict!)

Casta Fierce (and Spelldon) (maybe from witch camp?)

Amanita Nightshade (unless Frankie smushed her when they dropped a gargoyle on the corpse flower)

Moanica D'cay (not g1 but a really cool zombie)

Slomo (more zombies!)

Neighthan Rot (more zombie unicorns!)

AstraNova (love an alien)

Catrine DeMew (a solid Scarisian were-cat)

Valentine (I mean. Come on.)

Gigi and Whisp Grant (except less Orientalist this time)

Inivisi-Billy (is he a ghost? is he a normie?)

Lorna MacNessie (her dad is iconic and so is she)

Ari Hauntington (again not g1, but interesting in the g3 politics)

Garrott (I just want gargoyles)

Isi Dawndancer (please hire a cultural consultant this time)

Kiersti Trollson (loved the literal troll who games)

Batsy Claro (a were-bat would be so funny guys come on please)

[xxsksxxx]

Almost Heaven

Summary:

Mulder’s attempt to find more exciting cases to investigate while stuck in the bullpen turns into another weekend trip to the forest.

Meanwhile, Scully is faced with a tempting offer that could change both her future and their lives.

This story is complete, and I’m going to post one chapter a day.

AO3 | Back to the Beginning | @today-in-fic

Chapter 4: Life is Old There, Older Than the Trees

Falls State Park, West Virginia Saturday, November 28th, 1998, 12:17 pm

Scully was done. Absolutely done. They’d been traipsing through the West Virginia woods in the rain for hours. Mr. Murphy, an older gentleman, had taken them to a remote clearing in what felt like the middle of the forest, pointing at a tree stump with excitement. Scully hadn’t been sure what she was supposed to see, but Mulder took it as an invitation to inspect the piece of wood thoroughly.

After that, they’d followed a trail deeper into the woods while Mr. Murphy had pointed out that he wasn’t really all that interested in meeting the famous West Virginia Mothman and had sensibly turned back.

So now the day was creeping by slowly, and Scully pulled her jacket closer around herself. Just dead ends everywhere, as far as she could tell. It was freezing cold in the forest, even though it had stopped raining before they’d set off to meet with Mulder’s source.

She was following Mulder—as always—feeling the heels of her leather shoes sink into the wet dirt. She scowled. If she had known that this would turn into a hike, she’d have chosen more appropriate footwear. But Mulder had been his mysterious self and kept that—among other important details—to himself. Of course, he was wearing his Land Rovers, she noticed with disdain. Probably water-resistant as well. She scowled. And now he was already way ahead, following his Mothman trail with long strides she just couldn’t keep up with.

“Mulder!” she called after him, and he raised his hand in acknowledgment, waving her forward without turning around.

It was a shitty day already, and the day wasn’t even halfway over. She shoved a tree branch away from her face and ducked around a hole in the muddy path. This was not what she had imagined when he’d called her last night.

You thought this would be just an excuse for looking into an intriguing, albeit harmless mystery, and then you’d get to spend time together, walking around, relaxing, and having fun, her inner voice chimed in once again. Scully brushed a strand of wet hair inside the hood of her jacket and ignored her thoughts. She gritted her teeth and accelerated her steps, trying to catch up with Mulder instead.

“Mulder! Wait!” With a weary exhalation, she watched as Mulder disappeared behind some bushes in front of her, only to hear him shout out excitedly. “Scully! Scully, come here! I found something! You have to see this.”

She wasn’t sure she even wanted to see what Mulder had found but determinedly lengthened her steps in his direction.

“Scully? Scully, where are you?” Mulder called out impatiently, his voice slightly higher than usual because of his excitement.

“I’m on my way, Mulder!” she called back, exasperated.

Scully stepped around the bushes Mulder had disappeared behind earlier and stopped. Her partner was kneeling in the mud, excitedly inspecting a brown, mushy lump lying in front of him. Yes, I definitely don’t want to see what Mulder has found. With another sigh, she joined him in front of the Mothmen droppings—or whatever Mulder thought it was—and bent closer to get a better look.

2:47 pm

They were walking in circles; Scully was sure of it. That tree with the bent branch going down into the ground instead of up? I’ve passed that one at least three times in the last hour, Scully thought grimly.

She turned her head to see whether Mulder had also come to this conclusion, but he seemed undeterred, happily looking around, trying to find further clues that the famous Virginia Mothman had been here as well. She watched as he scratched the back of his head, and hoped, he wasn’t thinking of any more surprises they could explore.

All her earlier excitement had left at this point, and what she had found charming only a few hours ago was a Mulder trait she couldn’t care less about right now. “Mulder, don’t you think that tree looks familiar?” she asked, pointing at the gnarled branch with her right hand while stretching her back out at the same time. This little adventure is going to cause me sore muscles all over my body—and not the good kind of sore, she thought grumpily.

He turned to her in surprise and looked at where she was pointing. “You think?” He contemplated the tree for a moment before turning to the left and starting walking again. “You’re probably right, Scully. Let’s try this direction, then. I can feel we’re close.”

“The only thing I’m feeling is the blisters on my feet. Come on, Mulder. There is no Mothman. Mr. Murphy probably saw a flying squirrel or a bat or something.” She stepped around another tree stump and tried not to twist her ankle in the soft piles of leaves surrounding it.

Mulder didn’t respond, his attention already back on his surroundings, eagerly walking towards more scrub to their left.

Scully shook her head and followed, her feet aching and her clammy jacket itching uncomfortably.

4:11 pm

The light was getting dimmer by the minute, and Scully looked up in the direction where the sun should be above the cloud cover. She was trying to judge how much longer they’d have before it would start to set behind the trees. Scully could already feel the temperature dropping even further. It was close to freezing now, and she shivered in her jacket, not appropriate for hiking in a late-fall forest in West Virginia. Once again, she cursed Mulder for not giving her clearer information of where they were going. But she couldn’t help but be angry at herself as well for thinking Mulder’s invitation had been mostly about enjoying the weekend with an added intriguing mystery to solve.

He could’ve at least told me to bring warmer clothes and shoes for cross-country hikes in the forest, she grumbled to herself, trying not to stumble on the muddy underground. They had found nothing, of course. No sign of a Mothman, and no evidence of any other paranormal event. Just trees, freezing weather, and mud.

Mulder stopped suddenly in front of her, and she bumped into his backpack—something Scully would’ve liked to have taken as well had she known they were going hiking.

“What now, Mulder? Why are you stopping?” she blew into her hands, trying to warm up her fingers.

Mulder slowly turned in a circle, then let out a long breath. “I think you were right earlier, Scully,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “Isn’t that where we met Mr. Murphy this morning?” He pointed at a large stone, overgrown with moss, on the side of the path.

Scully didn’t reply. There wasn’t really anything to say. They both knew they were back where they had started. At least we aren’t far away from the car, Scully thought. And we won’t get lost in the dark and freezing forest.

They stumbled towards where they had left the car on the side of a small road, both exhausted and cold. The rain had started again, a steady drizzle that fit perfectly with Scully’s mood.

[roadbread]

Things I've crocheted in the past few months (not counting two rats that people commissioned from me)

Rats, (Willow and Willard).

Other rats have names too- Templeton, Rembrandt, Ralph, Penelope, Rufus, Sebastian (Lil' Sebastian), Ernie, Bradley, and Driselda.

Jellyfish and Turtle don't have names (gifts for my mom)

"Zom-bee", need I say more?

Eddie is the raven's name (I free handed- the tail)

And this mothman was one someone commissioned from me, and named Gerald (Mr. Way).

It's hard to believe all I've accomplished in almost 1 year since I learned how to crochet. (Oct. 31st) I have less than ½ of my first adult sized blanket done. As well as two baby blankets and a shawl. Couldn't have done it without the patience of my younger sister. She is a great teacher and I love her with all my heart. ❤️

[ibelieveinthejrsupremecy]

HC: Being the youngest member of The Gang

They are all protective, to an extent.

Considering how young you are, at least younger than any of them, they always prefer you not joining on their more dangerous missions.

Always covering for you when J.R questions why you are not present on the dangerous missions often.

"Hey, where the Hell is (Y/n)??"

"Oh, they didn't feel well-"

"Had to use the bathroom-" Ect.

But sometimes Myc will rat you out.

Intentionally or unintentionally, he's still a total asshole about it but that's just how he is.

He's also the one to tease and talk shit to you, mostly in a playful way, but eventually he will inevitably go too far without meaing to.

If you react all upset and maybe close to tears; Myc will feel like total shit. Like really bad.

He won't say sorry at all, that's not his thing, but he will do something nice for you like doing some of your work or buying you something nice.

But if you react by anger and retaliation, that will escalate your situation. You are mad and therefore it will make him mad.

The only way the situation will be resolved is when HR and Mr. Mothman intervenes.

Like parents making their kids apologize to each other after fighting who gets a turn on the Xbox.

Brett, Gigi, and Andre would absolutely give big sibling vibes 💯

Brett would happily spend quality time with you like having family breakfast, lunch, and dinners together. Having movie nights, playing board games, and sleepovers.

Gigi would take you out on shopping sprees and gossiping with you about anyone, getting manicures and hairs done.

Andre would be the one you can chill with and just exist in the same space with. Unless you wanna party, than he will gladly take you out to a rave, even share some of his stash if-you-know-what-i-mean. But if the hard stuff is too much, than he'll let you have 🍃 instead.

If you were to spend time with all three of them at once?? Whoo! Chaotic hijinks ensures.

Andre would be an absolute menace and try to drag you in crazy situations, while Brett tries to stop you guys and freaks out as Gigi records the whole situation.

Reagan would be... initially uncertain about you. Maybe even suspicious.

You can't blame her, in her work you could've been some sort of sleeper agent or something.

But she would warm up to you and would maybe even try to help you with anything you struggle with. Whether it would be paperwork, a mission, anything work related. Anything else that is more personal? She'd fumble and be super awkward about it and would stear you to literally anyone else with help for personal stuff.

Glenn would almost be fatherly, in a way, not too much since you are a full-grown man/woman/person. But it would be hard to warm up to the man and dolphin hybrid with how he can be sometimes.

Sometimes a little distant but seeing how young you are, it would bring up his more paternal.

Would absolutely teach you how to pay taxes, how to drive, or even how to cook if you don't know how to do any of these.

If you ask him for any stories in the military, this man would fucking cry and start going on and on about any story from his time in the military.

[maxineswritingcenter]

Bray Road - Fox Mulder x nonbinary!reader part 2

Agents Mulder and (Y/N) investigate mysterious killing on a forgotten road in rural Wisconsin. A connection to a case in the past brings the investigation to a whole new level.

—

The agents decided split up. Mulder went to go speak with the surviving victim and (Y/N) went to the coroner’s office so that they could look over the victims so they could get an idea of what could have done this.

-

Mulder entered the ICU where the boy was being held. Jason Mulligan, age twenty-two. He was a graduate student at the University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire. After getting directions from the nurse, he knocked on the door and made his way inside. Laying on the hospital bed, the boy looked like he’d been through the ringer. Any skin visible was covered in bandages, even his head apart from his right eye and mouth was covered. At his bedside was a woman he assumed was his mother.

“Pardon my intrusion, I’m special agent Fox Mulder with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.” He flashed his badge.

“This was an animal attack though.” Mrs. Mulligan said.

“We were called in, it’s just procedure. I just came to ask Jason a couple questions if he’s up to it.” Mulder said, looking at the boy in the bed.

Jason sat up a bit, “I can answer questions.” He spoke in a hushed voice.

“I appreciate that, young man. Now how did you find yourself out on Bray Road yesterday evening.”

“A couple of my friends from school said they saw the beast. We wanted to find it, take pictures and I don’t know… get some money for it? I don’t believe in this type of stuff but-…” He paused, his hands tightening into fists.

“But now you do?” Mulder asked.

“Look, I’ve seen bears and wolves. That thing wasn’t either of those. That thing wouldn’t let us leave the road. It circled us. Picked us off one by one. I got thrown into a ditch and played dead. I stayed there and passed out. I woke up in the hospital.” He recalled the night before.

“The officers said that you were saying a word when you were found. Repeating it actually. You were saying “field” over and over again.”

“I mean, we were right by a field. That’s the only thing I could think of.”

Mulder’s cell phone began ringing in his pocket. He handed Mrs. Mulligan his business card, “Call us if he remember anything else.” He made his way back into the hallway and answered his phone.

“Mulder.”

—–

(Y/N) arrived at the coroner’s office and was led back to the autopsy facility. Dr. Andrea Sherman was the doctor beginning the procedure. Dr. Sherman got scrubbed in and began speaking.

“We’ve pieced together about five bodies. Or what’s left of them. This is the body that’s mostly intact.” She motioned to the body on the table covered in a blue sheet. Dr. Sherman pulled the top of it away revealing the head and torso of Zeke Bruins according to the tag on his toe. His left arm was torn to shreds by the creature’s claws. His right arm, seemingly torn off. The doctor began her physical examination of the body.

“I think this is pretty open and shut.” Dr. Sherman began, “We’ve had a few bear sitting recently. These kids were just there at the wrong place and the wrong time. Probably just a mother defending her cubs.”

“But it’s only October, cubs aren’t usually born until January.” (Y/N) said without thinking, like the words just flew from their mouth. The doctor looked up from the corpse and eyed them.

“I suppose.” She squinted through her safety goggles, “By the way, are you from around here? You look really familiar.”

(Y/N) shook their head, “Nope, just have one of those faces.”

“Well anyway, rabid bear, black bear, the rare grizzly, it’s probably nothing-” She stopped mid sentence, “What the…”

“What is it?” (Y/N) asked. Dr. Sherman was staring into the arm socket of the boy, she took a pair of tweezers. With a little effort, she jerked free something that was embedded in the bone. She dropped it in a metal bowl.

“Oh my god.” Dr. Sherman said. (Y/N) looked over her shoulder and their eyes widened. It was a human tooth. Their stomach dropped and their heart leapt into their throat.

“Could you sent the xrays to the field office in Quantico?” The doctor nodded, “Good. I’ll be in touch.” They made their way out the door and called agent Mulder. He picked up in the first few rings.

“Mulder.”

“It’s (Y/L/N). Listen, one of the victims had a tooth embedded in his shoulder blade.”

“A bear tooth?” He asked.

“No, a human tooth. But that doesn’t make sense.”

“Well, (Y/L/N) the human jaw is capable of biting off our fingers like a carrot, whose to say it can’t be lodged into your bone?” There was just a hint of humor is his voice.

“It’s impossible. The wounds sustained by the victims can’t be human. The average strength of our jaws are at about one hundred sixty pounds per square inch. The force that it would take to do this damage would have to be over two thousand.”

“I have a hunch. I’m meeting up with a local journalist on the case can you meet me there?”

—-

The address agent Mulder gave them was to a small townhouse closer to downtown. They parked in the driveway behind Mulder’s rental and met him on the porch where he seemed to already be talking with the journalist.

“Speak of the devil,” He smiled, “this is agent (Y/L/N).” (Y/N) met the pair and extended their hand to meet the woman’s.

“Linda Godfrey, a pleasure.” They shook her hand. Linda smiled at them.

“Have we met? I’m getting the strangest sense of deja vu.” She said.

(Y/N) shook their head, “Nope. Sorry.”

“Well, like I was telling your partner, back in 1991, I started working for The Week which is the local paper for the county. We were just getting siting after siting. So I started compiling and unraveling. I’m actually writing a book about it, I’m going to call it: The Beast of Bray Road: Tailing Wisconsin’s Werewolf!”

“So you think the beast is a werewolf?” Mulder asked, looking somewhat pleased.

“Well, I don’t know what else it would be. From the descriptions given that could be the only possibility. I even have the testimonies of the only survivor from the attack in the seventies.” Linda said excitedly.

“The survivor was a little kid, it was dark and they were scared. I don’t believe any testimony they give would be accurate. It’s the power of suggestion, this child lives in a town that makes its revenue from a cryptid like mothman or the Jersey devil.” (Y/N) rationalized.

“Even if that were true, Agent (Y/L/N), it’s all we have to go on. The child was placed with family in another state.” Linda said, “Now, if you would like, I could get you a copy of my research and all the evidence I have. You just have to promise to not let a single soul see it.”

“Cross our hearts.” Mulder made a crossing motion with his finger over the left side of his jacket coat.

“Well, come on in.” The agents followed Ms. Godfrey into her home. There were met by endless imagery of wolves and bears on almost every wall, figurines on the coffee table.

“I’ll be right back.” She said, leaving them in the living room.

“I never told you her name.” Mulder said, bending down to look at a figurine of a bear fishing.

“Huh?” They said, mind taken away from the portrait of a wolf howling at the moon.

“When I called you over here I never told you what the journalist’s name was. But you recalled it like it was someone you knew.” His green eyes seemed to look into their soul and to the core of their subconscious. They avoided eye contact, chewing on the inside of their lip.

“Look, Agent (Y/L/N), if you want me to trust you then you need to tell me what’s really going on here.” He said. They stood in silence for what seemed like forever. That is until Linda Godfrey came back with a stand of files.

“Here we are!”

-

Back at the hotel, Mulder had been in his room reading through the files that he had been gifted. Every first hand account of the creature. When he got to the killings in seventy-four he stopped. The name of the child from the case had the same first name as his partner, nothing strange about that. A coincidence more than anything. But that made him think. If he could find this person, who would be around his age at this point, maybe he could convince them to undergo regression hypnosis. He placed a call to the bureau to try and get the adoption records and went next door to share the findings.

-

A knock at the door pulled (Y/N) out of their thoughts. They hadn’t even realized the tears that were trailing done their face until then.

“Come in!” They called. The door opened and Mulder appeared in the doorway. He came inside, shutting the door behind him.

“I was looking through the records and I think the kid from the accident is our best bet of finding this thing. I got in contact with the bureau and they’re uncovering the adoption records.

“That won’t be necessary.” They said, finally meeting his eyes.

“And why’s that?” He asked. After taking a good look at them, he sat besides them on the bed, “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not.” They paused, choking on back sobs. They cleared their throat and laughed a little.

“Mulder, it’s me. I was the child in the car.”

—–

Yay! Part 2! I’m really happy with how this is coming our so far. Thank you for reading!

Part 3 here!

Also just in case anyone is interested: Linda Godfrey is a real person who actually wrote a book about the Beast of Bray road. I only dramatized her for the sake of the story.

Shoot me a message if you like to be added to the tag!

Bray Road tag:

@theres-a-dog-outside-omg

[monstrouslyobsessed]

ftw you were almost done with the mothman smut, but words didn't wanna come for the actual smut scene

rip me. HOPEFULLY...it’ll get posted later tonight or tomorrow!!

anyway, answering anon asks under the readmore because i dont feel like spamming my followers dashboard and i’ll post a hc or two later tonight.

omg I'm sorry, I'm very disconnected and forgot that Sandman was on another List. I can access correctly, sorry for the confusion😅—anon1

no worries! its probably more on me for not being organized tbh

Cerelos and Mr. Insanity have a safe word during sex? If so, what would it be? Would they listen? Would they stop? How would they react if it used at the moment?

Sorry for my English! I send you a virtual hug—anon2

i’ve muted i’san for requests, pls check the status, but i’ll answer this one since the answer isn’t a long one. honestly, they don’t give a shit about safe words. they already don’t understand personal boundaries, i highly doubt they’d understand the point behind the safe words either. cerelos on the other hand, is only willing to respect your boundaries if he feel that you truly are obedient—but i’m not very sure if he would respect the safe words 100% the time. you don’t deny your king from what he wanted, do you?

safe words would likely change each time with cerelos, but he’d likely allow his darling to choose. you just might pick a very ridiculous one enough to make him to stop too lol. a hug back to you!

Oh sorry about that. I didn't notice requests were closed. I hope you forgive me. (I was the one who asked about plague doctor.) Also sorry for making it so specific. It's just most writer I know always want requests that provide details, so I got carried away here and sent you that request. I should have checked first.😅 again I apologize for all that.—anon3

its all good! I still do require prompt, but i don’t like overly detailed kinds. give me some room to work with, let my creativity breathe, ya?

but seriously, please check peoples faq first, before sending an ask. i’ve updated my faq/status to clarify things better

Will we be getting more of our ghost hubby? Ooh Ooh what about him posessive a human body and breed us. Ps what happen to the stories of the naga? The one where a stranger found us in the maze and tried taking us back.—anon4

...ive been send at least 5 different asks on the ghost husband alone (with a couple prompts very eerily similar), where is this interest on him coming from?? it’s almost enough to make me to want to mute him too and he’s not even one of my main ocs...regardless, i’ll go back and update my faq again, but please, if you have a question or two for me and not a rq, send a separate ask.

i’ll answer your questions now 1) iunno, i’m not that interested in the ghost husband as you do, similar to the plague doctor, he didn’t really have much stories for me to tell tbh. 2) already have a rq on this one though... 3) huh? thought it was obvious but adoxi ate the guy at the end? the clothes fluttering down was an indictor that adoxi ate him. i’ll go back and reread it.

that’s all to the anon asks!! if you have any more questions, lmk and i’ll answer.

[nightmarish-adventures]

it’s official. nightmarish is coming back with several changes (which i hope will be appreciated). new designs. new stories. new humor.

new info about each character under the cut.

King Axel Horsmann Age: 345 Full Description: A hessian trooper killed in the Revolutionary War and reincarnated into a Dullahan, he was crowned the King of Nightmaria by retired ruler Hades and officially the master of the castle. He is caring for the other residents but he’s a bit crazy. Axel loves his unicorn ghoul Rainblood, who was once the horse he rode during his battles, and would go berserk if anyone were to hurt her. He mostly hangs out with Aziza, who’s practically his roommate. Based on: The Headless Horseman.

Aziza Age: 2897 Full Description: An athletic and confident mummy who is the Queen of Nightmaria. Formerly an ancient Egyptian Pharaoh, she just wants to live her life in and adjust to the modern times Nightmaria like a mortal human would, but finds herself contributing to the antics of the rest of the Nightmarish 9. However, she can’t help but find fun in it like the others, as she does have to remind herself, “This is better”. Based on: The Mummy.

Vladimir “Drac” Dracula Age: 665 Full Description: Once a fearsome warrior, this count used dark magic to turn himself into a powerful vampire after death. He moved to Nightmaria after his old castle in Transylvania was destroyed by a small mob of vampire hating humans and was taken in by the king, and is now the royal advisor. He can shapeshift into different creatures, is destructive and crude, loves video games and fighting, and, while vampires do indeed have to consume blood and flesh, he is practically addicted to it. Based on: Dracula.

Project F/VF-01 “Scrap” Frankenstein Age: 297 Full Description:  An intelligent creature that was an attempt to make a new species. They are a creative seamstress along with their pet mothman and spider/bat hybrids, are often apprehended by phone calls from their slightly overbearing creator, Victor Frankenstein himself (who's trying to make up for what he's done when he was alive, but Scrap is much less than forgiving) f, serve as the royal guard in Horsmann Castle, and the Nightmarish 9’s voice of reason who’s seen just about everything. Due to being shunned in Germany and brutally experimented on by researchers in England because of their appearance when they were younger, they’re a gloomy person in general, have a rather cynical outlook on life, and even suffer from PTSD. They can also communicate with animals. Based on: Frankenstein’s Monster.

Erik “DJ Phantom” Aria Age: 132 Full Description: A rather hyper and very odd ghost who was born with a severe facial deformity and wears a white mask that hides it, he is very melodramatic and prone to fainting. Abandoned by their mother as a child, they were featured in a freakshow (lets just say he didn’t like it very much) and escaped to the darker parts of an opera theater. Dying at a young age, he became from a Phantom in name only to an actual Phantom, and was offered to be the butler of Nightmaria’s royal staff due to devices and contraptions they had made and also now works as a DJ. He’s a huge fan of different types of music, acts rather immature, and can get… clingy sometimes. Based on: The Phantom of the Opera.

Henry Jekyll/Edward Hyde Age: 159 Full Description: Dr. Jekyll is a very shy creature who works as the royal scientist and is very polite, if not a bit self-centered. Formerly human, he had used a potion to finally help him release his darker thoughts in the form of a more powerful being, which stayed with him long after his death. Resurrected into a shadow spirit after spending years in purgatory, he now has the ability to shift to Edward Hyde when he feels mischievous, angry, lustful, consumes caffeinated drinks, or somehow just feels like it. As Hyde, he enjoys mischief, destruction, pranks, junk food, and slacking off. While Jekyll and Hyde are prone to shifting between one or the other, they are also able to communicate by sharing a body CatDog style and often tease and insult each other, sharing a strong rivalry. Based on: Dr. Henry Jekyll/Mr. Edward Hyde. (duh…?)

Medusa, Stheno, and Euryale Age: 2268 Full Description: Three gorgon triplets, in which here are large snakes with arms and writhing, almost living hair. Medusa, the green viper-like gorgon, is the stoic, chill, and rather dimwitted leader. Stheno, the red cobra-like gorgon, is hotblooded (ironically) and protective. Euryale, the blue rattlesnake-like gorgon, is gloomy and paranoid, though tries to be the voice of reason. What all three have in common is that they pride in their supposed "ugliness" and don't care at all about romance. After a traumatic encounter with Poseidon, Medusa, along with her sisters, were given a power used to defend themselves the best way possible. Similar to the gorgon myth, those who look at their eyes, hidden by their hair, sunglasses, and hat, turn into stone for as long as the gorgons want them to be stone. They live in the castle’s dungeons as the wardens. The sisters often make random wisecracking lines and the like, but are also prone to causing a lot of trouble. Based on: Medusa, Stheno, and Euryale. (kinda obvious)

Lawrence Lycan Age: 103 Full Description: An effeminate zombie with therianthropy, meaning he can shift into a specific animal (wolf, to be exact) and back again, (making him a werebeast, or, more specifically, a werewolf) who lives in the castle gardens. His father gained therianthropic abilities after a blood transfusion, while he himself was born with them. Lawrence loves his wolf form to the point he stays in it often unless he absolutely has to be a man. He was shot to death by a wolf hunter in Wales when he was in his 20’s, and so became undead as well. Lawrence was later offered to work as the gardener and caretaker to the yards of Nightmaria’s castle. Sometimes, canine instinct will take over him once in a while, which is not really all that great when you’re trying to tend to plants. Based on: The Wolfman.

Gill Age: 107 Full Description: A river demigod who serves as the royal chef. While a majority of the characters are loony one way or another, he probably has the most outlandish personality of them all and is the bravest. He’s also quite a romantic, and was a big ladies man back in the Amazons and is an even bigger one on Nightmaria. Based on: The Gill-Man/Creature from the Black Lagoon.

[mando-lore]

"A bird... or something...": The story of Mothman and other 'flying men'

Certainly Strange: A Podcast About The Unexplainable, episode 7

Listen on: YouTube  Spotify  Castbox

"It was a bird... or something."

It was the 15th of November, 1966, and Roger and Linda Scarberry and Steve and Mary Mallette were joyriding through a maze of dirt roads that connected abandoned world war two bunkers, late at night in Point Pleasant West Virginia. They had just driven past an abandoned generator plant when they saw… something. A huge figure in the darkness, just off the side of the road. And it was watching them. With huge, blood red eyes.

"I'm a hard guy to scare" Scarberry later said to the local newspaper, "but last night I was getting out of there." He slammed the gas and tried to manoeuvre his car out of the dump area as quickly as possible, away from the strange creature that watched them. And as they fled, they all saw the creature, something that looked like the hybrid between a man and a bird, standing on a hill by the side of the road.

And then, it started following them. It hoovered above the car, chasing them. “We were driving one hundred miles per hour and that bird kept right up with us. It wasn’t even flapping its wings.” The women started crying. The creature followed them until the couples reached the National Guard Armory on Route 62. They thought they had finally lost the strange man-bird, but once they turned the car around, there it was again. It seemed to be waiting on them.

The creature was over six foot tall, grey, with a wingspan of 10 feet. "It was like a man with wings," Mallette said. "It wasn't like anything you'd see on TV or in a monster movie..."

The Scarberries and the Mallettes gave a statement to the police. "If I had seen it while by myself I wouldn't have said anything," Scarberry commented, "but there were four of us who saw it."

At first, the four witnesses were the laughingstock of the town. But soon, stories started to surface, old and new. They were definitely not the only ones who had witnessed the creature that is now known as the Mothman.

On that very same day, on November the 15th 1966, the Mothman had been spotted by a farmer about 90 miles away in Salem. Newell Partridge was watching television when at 10:30pm he heard his German shepherd named Bandit howling. The farmer went out to check on his dog with a flashlight, when he was met with two large red eyes, like red reflectors, staring at him.

Bandit took off towards the creature that threatened his master, into the night. Then, the farmer could hear his dog screech and whine. And he never saw him again.

The strange thing? In their eyewitness report, The Scarberries and the Mallettes told the police that, while they were being chased by the Mothman, they had seen something, lying on the side of the road. It had been a carcass. The carcass of a dead dog.

The very next day, the Mothman was spotted by one Mr and Mrs Wamsley and their friend Mrs Bennett, who were driving through the world war two bunker area on their way to visit a friend. They parked the car in a darkened area several feet from the residence, and knocked on their friend’s door. When they found him not at home, they headed back to the car. This is where they saw it. In the darkness, a shadowy figure lurked behind the automobile.

“It rose up slowly from the ground. A big, grey thing. Bigger than a man, with terrible, glowing red eyes.” Said Bennett. According to her own statement, when Bennett saw the creature, she was so horrified she fell on her baby whom she had been holding in her arms.

There were dozens of Mothman sightings during the next several weeks. One witness, Mrs. Roy Grose, saw the creature through her kitchen window, early in the morning when her barking dog had awakened her. She say a large multicoloured object hovering over the treetop in a field across the road. That same day a local teenager encountered a huge birdlike creature with his car, and claimed that it had followed him for more than a mile.

Tom Ury, a young shoe salesman, was driving down route 62 at 7:15 in the morning on his way to work, when he spotted a towering figure standing by the road in an adjacent field. Suddenly it had spread its wings and took off straight up. The figure then started circling his car like a bird, and kept flying over the car even at the speed of seventy-five miles per hour, much like as he had done to the Scarberries and the Mallettes. Tom was apparently so frightened by this encounter, he did not get into work that day.

In total, there were around 200 sightings of the Mothman in the year 1966 to 1967. But it was not the first time something like a bird-man was spotted near Point Pleasant.

In 1961, 5 years prior, a woman was driving down route 2 along the Ohio river with her father when she spotted a winged figure. She had just passed by a park when a tall figure suddenly appeared in the road ahead of her. It was a grey figure with folded wings across its back, like how one would describe an angel. Startled by the car, the creature unfolded its wings, which “practically filled the whole road”, and then the mysterious creature took off.

However, the woman and her father were not the first to ever witness the creature that would become known as “The Mothman”. In 1948, the Army officials at McChord Field in Washington state were approached by the 61-year-old Mrs Bernice Aikowski, who claimed that she had seen a man-bird in her backyard in nearby Chehalis.

“I know most people don’t believe me, but I have talked to some people in Chehalis that tell me they say the man, too. It was about 3 PM on January 6th, and there were a lot of small children coming home from school at the time. They saw the man, too, and asked me if they could go into my backyard so they could watch him longer as he flew towards the south end of the city.”

According to her, the flying man-bird seemed to be a man equipped with long silver wings fastened over his shoulders with a strap, like one of the inventions of Leonardo da Vinci.

On April 9th, 1948, two Longview Washington state residents named Viola Jonson (a laundry worker) and James Pittman (a janitor) told journalists that they had seen several men with flying suits and goggles, flying through the air, circling the city at a hight of 250 feet. Two similar flying men were sighted near Butte in Oregon, on September 16th that same year.

In 1971, at 2AM in Norton Massachusetts, police sergeant Thomas Downy was driving home along Winter Street in Mansfield. As he approached a place known, ironically, as Bird Hill in Easton, he was confronted by a huge winged creature that was over 6 feet tall with a wingspan of eight to twelve feet. As sergeant Downy drew to a stop at the intersection, the birdman flew straight up, disappearing over the dark trees into the swamp. Downy reported the sighting to the Easton police when he arrived home and a patrol car searched the area, but the man bird was never seen again.

These birdmen are not sighted exclusively in the United States, however. Plato and Homer already wrote about a race of winged men in Ancient Greece. On July 11th, 1908, the Russian explorer VK Arsenyev sighted a winged humanbeing near the mouth of the Gobilli river. Sightings have also been reported in Portugal, England, and Vietnam.

The many sightings of the Mothman came to an end on the 25th of December in 1967, when the Silver Bridge, connecting Point Pleasant with Gallipolis collapsed. 46 people died, and it is still known as the deadliest bridge collapse in the history of the United States. Next to the Mothman sightings, the Silver Bridge collapse was the second terrible and bizarre thing to put Point Pleasant on the map in one year’s time. So it was not hard for people to seek a connection between the two.

Some eyewitnesses claimed that they had seen the Mothman at the bridge that day it collapsed, blaming the creature for the disaster that killed so many. Of course, it is a way of mourning to seek an explanation, someone to blame, for this terrible loss of life.

People did indeed think that the Mothman was a bad omen, a demonic vision that foreshadows a great disaster. The Mothman does bear the resemblance of a demon, the embodiment of fear itself.

A more realistic based explanation for the Mothman comes from Dr. Robert L. Smith, an associate professor of wildlife biology at West Virginia University, who said that the description of the Mothman all fitted the sandhill crane, the second largest American crane, which stands almost as high as a man and has a wingspan of more than seven feet. He said the “red eyes” could be the large red circles around the crane’s eyes. The appearance of the bird could have been moulded into the image of a monstrous creature through mass hysteria.

So, is the Mothman an image of the mind, the demonic embodiment of fear? Is it simply a bird, mistaken for a monster through mass hysteria? Or… is the Mothman real? Whatever he was or whatever he may be now, still, he is certainly strange.

SOURCES

All That’s Interesting. (2017, May 17). The True Story Behind The Legendary Mothman Said To Terrorize West Virginia. Retrieved from https://allthatsinteresting.com/mothman

Coleman, L. (2001). Mothman and other curious encounters. Cosimo, Inc. https://books.google.nl/books?hl=en&lr=&id=KZlavRmNPtkC&oi=fnd&pg=PA8&dq=mothman&ots=KSz4GP-jP7&sig=-WwUOFtlxYvPePGyE-MwpPccj4s#v=onepage&q&f=false

Daly, J. (2020). Narrative Hijacking: Mothman and the Silver Bridge Collapse. https://digitalcommons.usu.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=2279&context=researchweek

Gettysburg Times. (1966, December 1). Monster Bird With Red Eyes May Be Crane. p. 12. Retrieved from https://news.google.com/newspapers?id=LG0mAAAAIBAJ&sjid=Rf8FAAAAIBAJ&pg=620,2790721&dq=point+pleasant+roger+scarberry&hl=en

Point Pleasant Register. (1966, November 16). Couples See Man-Sized Bird...Creature...Something. Retrieved from https://web.archive.org/web/20071011230219/http://www.westva.net/mothman/1966-11-16.htm

[bluemetalflake]

Once upon a time, far away, in a little town called Apple Grove, this #messageboard hung in the kitchen of the beautiful, raven-haired Mrs. Eleanor Lee Selby. The smell of biscuits and bacon would creep quietly into every room, every morning, without fail. The royal blue carpet in the living room was a perfect accompaniment to the gilded mirror that held shelves for lovely tchotchkes. On holidays like Thanksgiving when the house was full, My brother @zselbs and I would fight over who had to sleep on the leather couch in the den, where the fireplace was always set to roar. Some nights you'd sweat so hard in your rest that you'd slide right off. On nights when the coin flip didn't land in my favor, and I could strike up enough nerve (papaw warned us about the wrath of the #Mothman. I was sure he lived in the corn feild directly across the gravel road), I'd open the den door to the dark country night to feel a frigid blast of air, regulating my body temperature before laying back down on the soft brown #slipnslide. My cousins @bakery7 and @selbylane would run in hollerin' about washing our hands because the eggs were almost done. Which really meant there were still 20 minutes or more left before the plates were on the kitchen island, ready for eating. We'd race each other to be the first one at the little chalkboard, because whoever scrawled a message first, knew it would remain protected by mamaw until the next visit. Whether it was 1 week or 2 months, she'd leave it there, proudly. And somehow we ornery kids respected that unspoken rule.

These memories...The sound of the screen porch slamming shut in the breezeway. The plastic Halloween pumpkin still sitting out when we arrived for Thanksgiving. Ermie, their deaf neighbor (and relation, mamaw's sister in law, maybe?) coming into the house without knocking and plopping down to chat, more at us than with us. The smell of the kitchen when no one was in it, strangely metallic and warm, consecutively. The quiet in the middle of the day, in summer. The absolute chaos of Christmas with the cousins of cousins & kids & church people and random "neighbors"... it was all just #LOVE. Big and real. I miss every moment.

[the-roanoke-society]

What's the story behind the Agents of Sass and Class tag? How did Seraphim and Succubus meet within the society even tho they were from two COMPLETELY different agent circles? P.S I love you, bitch. 💖💖💖

now you did get the initial beginning down pretty square—seraphim had heard, on the periphery, that oh, we had a new necromancer, and man, her origin story was equal parts bizarre and intriguing (with the normal touches of tragedy that seemed to paint the narratives of everyone at the estate from time time—but such is the human and non-human condition of this plane, unfortunately).

let’s talk about it.

between the emotional aftermath of enoch’s abrupt departure, the city in the hills, all on top of routine missions that she was still being handed from lilith, there was a lot that seraphim missed. it wasn’t because of apathy. it was because of exhaustion. (and then there was still the matter of agent whiskey, of statesman. she was… still working on figuring that part out. but jack loved a good chase. and a good fuck.)

a large part of that was succubus’s training and entire initiation. but even as it was, for some reason seraphim couldn’t quite discern, lilith had been very keen on the senior agent being at least a bit aware that she was around.

very keen.

“hey, it’s—clementine. right?”

those were her first words to her. she’d overheard poltergeist a few days ago, talking to wendigo and mothman about his newest recruit. that he’d done the grave test, as he’d done with other field agents in training before her.

seraphim didn’t hate him. not exactly. but he reminded her so much of john who sparked such a deep anger and hurt inside of her that it was difficult for her to physically be around him for long. and it broke her heart to see another person being spiritually shattered in this way.

she’d pivoted abruptly, leaving the lounge before any of the three had seen her. fuming.

we aren’t wild horses. this is all so goddamn unnecessary and exhausting.

it didn’t feel like they were being broken and remade into something better. it just felt like breaking.

looking back, seraphim was grateful that rae had let her carefully lead her to one of the stools by the center island, get her tissues, a wet towel for her face, and food that was actually plated. she was hardly the first person seraphim had seen weeping in an odd place in the manor, although crying in front of an open fridge was a first.

clementine wasn’t clementine for long. soon enough, she was raeanna. then rae. but a lot about her was… guarded. that first conversation in the kitchen that night was very much a weird kind of dance. seraphim had to learn where to press, where not to press. the shapes of what she was willing to share versus what she wasn’t. and succubus, for her part, had only a vague idea of who seraphim even was.

“my name’s morgan. uh, seraphim’s my handle. it’s nice to finally meet you.”

an exorcist, fine, a senior agent of apparent high regard, sure, but succubus didn’t know her and didn’t exactly relish the idea of a sleepover-tier get-to-know-you conversation in the middle of the night with the witch that poltergeist had constantly used as a standard to decimate her confidence.

the closeness and seamlessness they share as a duo on the field wasn’t formed overnight.

but it was engendered in one.

because succubus found that for the life of her, she couldn’t withstand the barrage of kindness.

they ran into each other a few times after that, always in passing. succubus still had her training to finish, and seraphim had her normal fieldwork.

but one day, shortly after succubus had finally graduated out of poltergeist’s authority to become an agent in her own right, lilith called seraphim into her office. all of her usual calm smile and gentle—if not a little suspicious—demeanor.

“morgan! there you are! i see the color’s gotten back into your face since you came home. did mr. daniels have something to do with that? … aaannnddd look, now there’s even more pink there, i’m taking that as a yes.”

“lil, please. look, did you need to ask me something? i’m assuming you called me up here for a reason.” seraphim took a seat in one of the plush armchairs on the other side of lilith’s desk, watching her superior thoughtfully twirl a red apple in the space above an open hand. it had a bite out of it.

“you know me well. i did have something that i wanted to assign you, and agent succubus.”

“agent? oh, she got through training! thank god, i was scared that adam was going to run her off, or worse, and—wait, both of us?” seraphim lifted one brow. it wasn’t that she’d been hit with dread, but she’d never worked with rae afield before. she wasn’t sure what to expect.

“yes, she’s become quite the gifted necromancer under ‘geist’s—particular brand of tutelage. … morgan, would you like an apple, or are you just jealous that you haven’t quite mastered the art of object levitation?”

seraphim sighed. “both, if i’m honest, but joe’s been teaching me energy manipulation.” she caught the apple that lilith tossed to her from a bowl on the small table behind her and eyed the manila folder she slid onto her desk towards her. “granted, it’s not like i have a separate universe at my hands. our magic doesn’t look the same. but it’s…” her voice softened. another sigh. this one was sadder. “… it’s nice to be able to explore what i can do. after everything. you never really stop learning, i guess. not really.” she poked at the folder. “but uh, i’m a little bit more curious about that, ma’am.”

lilith smiled kindly. she’d have to speak with mothman later, see what exactly they’d been up to. “we’ve had—reports,” she began, flipping open the folder. seraphim took a bite out of her apple, reaching forward to touch one of the photographs that was on top of a stack of scanned newspaper clippings. “of something interesting happening around the outsides of las vegas.”

seraphim picked the picture up, frowning at it. “uh—lil, uhm, what, what am i looking at?” she spoke around the apple bits in her mouth. the only distinct shapes she could make out in the photo were the mountains in the distance and a police cruiser. but this black blur in the middle…

whatever it was, it was massive. easily at least ten, twelve feet, comparing it to the car. big, dark, and—were those antlers?

“we’re not a hundred percent sure. but we’re afraid that given the damage its caused and an uptick in insomnia and night terrors around the part of the city where it’s been sighted, it may be something demonic.”

“which is why you’re sending me. okay, i follow you.”

“we also think it might not be completely alive in the traditional sense.”

“… it’s not what now?”

lilith rubbing her hands together. not a good sign. “we don’t think it’s—living. no mundane weapons seem to slow it down, which isn’t necessarily a huge surprise, but other members from the nevada office that were dispatched had similar misfortune. granted, their specializations aren’t quite like yours, or like rae’s, and we’re wondering if maybe we just need an approach with… let’s say a dynamic more like the one you two have.”

“lil…”

“i don’t mean anything as shallow as a game of holy versus unholy. i only mean that both of you are walking different sides of the same road, going the same way. you have a decent handle on being, as luca has said, a ‘light-bringer,’ and rae makes a weapon out of darkness. between the two of you, this thing doesn’t stand a chance, and the vegas mayor will, once again, owe me a debt.”

“uh, once again?” why was it that she consistently left lilith’s office with more questions than answers?

“it’s a long story, i’ll tell you when you get back. now go find rae, please, i’d like to speak with her. take this file with you to review. our dear darling quetzl just got back from visiting his mother, he’ll fly you out tomorrow morning at six a.m. sharp.”

“yes ma’am.” seraphim bit down on her apple, holding it in her mouth as she used both hands to shift through the file.

this would make for some interesting afternoon reading, but first, to find succubus…

*   *     *

“did you eat breakfast?” seraphim asked the next morning, hoping that a pair of dark capris and a light grey button-up wouldn’t end up being too hot for the desert. she couldn’t bring herself to just wear a tank-top. she didn’t like how people looked at her scars.

“… what?” succubus was rubbing sleep out of her eyes, almost tripping up the steps into the jet. almost. “oh shit—uhm, no, i opted to get as much sleep as possible. kind of regretting it.”

“what, sleeping in or not eating anything?” seraphim got up into the plane first, slinging her duffel bag upwards onto the rack over their seats.

the good witch—which seraphim thought was a fuckin’ weird name for a plane—was one of the nicer jets in roanoke’s hangar. the flight from kentucky to nevada wouldn’t be tremendously long, but it’d give them a few hours to rest, and if seraphim had her way, to be better friends.

this would be the first time they’d be stuck together for an extended period, and she wasn’t sure what to expect.

succubus laughed, and readily handed her own bag to seraphim’s outstretched hand. “both.”

“then boy do i have a surprise for you two!” seraphim and succubus both jumped at the booming voice of quetzl, who was the most intense morning person seraphim had ever met. all dark eyes, dark smiles and a demeanor that could be likened to a nuclear reactor.

before either of them could quiet react he’d already stuffed pop tarts into their hands—smores flavor into seraphim’s, strawberry into succubus’s. “you’re welcome. now please, go sit down, i’ve got to radio phoenix and get him to open the hangar up for us, but as soon as the gate’s up, we’re outta here!”

and as soon as they sat down: “dude do you want to trade? that one’s my favorite.”

“seriously? hell yeah, that one’s my favorite too.”

okay. off to a good start.

but seraphim closed her eyes as soon as they hit cruising altitude—she’d watched succubus take out a worn copy of carrie, and had to hide her smile—and when she opened them again, it was to the tune of quetzl’s voice over the p.a. system. “ladies! and—other ladies! all of the two ladies on board. we’ll be landing on the airstrip by our nevada compatriots here in like, thirty minutes. we’ll be right on the outskirts of henderson, which means around a thirty minute drive to the site that lilith wanted you to investigate first. so please return your seats to the upright position, do the thing with the tray tables, you’ve been on a plane before, just don’t run around the cabin, that’s literally it. … thank you for your patronage.”

succubus rolled her eyes. “is he always like this?”

seraphim laughed in response. “welcome to air quetzl. never boring, and sometimes just—real fuckin’ annoying.”

“better annoying than boring, though?”

the senior agent hummed, nodding. “i—yeah. better annoying than boring.”

*    *     *

agent tahoe met them in the hangar. blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and all six feet of her like a ray of sunshine. seraphim thought she was going to bruise her knuckles with the strength of her grip. where the hell does lilith keep finding all these morning people?

“seraphim! good to see you again, look how long your hair’s gotten! and you must be our newest crowned, agent succubus! i’m senior agent tahoe. our ah, staff’s stretched a bit thin at the moment, what with all the monster bullshit, but don’t worry, i’ll be the one making sure you get to where you need to g—“

“emilia! baaaabe! how’s it hangin’?”

“… clark.”

her tone went deadpan and succubus was trying desperately to keep some sense of professionalism.

“oh come on, you’re not still mad at me, are you?”

“if you two will follow me, our ride’s waiting in the garage juuuuust down this corridor here—“

“oh sweet, what did boss man upstairs lend us?”

“i said you two. meaning them. you are going straight inside where someone can keep an eye on you. and don’t touch anything.”

“emilia!”

“go fucking upstairs.” but all the venom in her voice disappeared when she turned back to the team at her shoulders, following close behind her. “in all seriousness, we’re really glad y’all are here. whatever this thing it, it broke jarbridge’s legs, compound fractures, too. i mean, she passed out, which is good, she says she doesn’t even remember it happening, but i’m pretty sure lovelock’s gonna have to take some kind of sabbatical, you know how squeamish he is around blood…”

succubus glanced at seraphim once. her face was a little pale.

but seraphim just put a warm hand on her shoulder, and leaned closer to her. “hey. this asshole hasn’t met us yet. we got this.”

 *    *     *

tahoe was the kind of woman where, if you didn’t make any attempt to steer the conversation, she could talk gore and guts for literal hours (seraphim had heard her do it enough times before).

once they’d gotten into a shiny black falcon coup (that, despite how clean it looked, was straight out of 1975) seraphim watched succubus’s face become more and more drawn.

she’d survived poltergeist. that spoke volumes in and of itself. but even the confidence bred from that firewalking brand of training, well…

seraphim remembered her first mission solo, without enoch at her side. all she had to do was envision that bright yellow doorway on lincoln street and it all came flooding back, visceral but short-lived. the nervousness. the fear. and for her, at least, an acute case of being overwhelmed.

but then… poltergeist hadn’t left.

would it have been so bad if he did leave, really?

seraphim shook her head. “—emilia! emilia. uhm. look, now, you know i love a war story as much as the next agent, but ah, rae looked a little confused as to why you were being so cold to clark, and frankly, i am too, i thought you two had patched things up?”

if there was one thing tahoe liked talking about more than body horror—it was her exes.

succubus didn’t want to let on that her heart was in her throat, and she had her hands balled into fists in her lap so no one could tell they were shaking. what had she gotten herself into? double compound fractures? were her bones about to see the light of day as well? she suppressed a shudder.

she loved bones. she loved her own bones.  she loved them most when they were safely under her skin like they were supposed to be.

but succubus also loved gossip, and seraphim, as it turned out, was an excellent enabler.

also turned out that quetzl was just as awful to date as succubus had judged beforehand, according to tahoe. “and okay, i’ll concede that maybe i shouldn’t have been looking through his phone but damnit, rae, it was my own sister! like, both of my sisters! who does that?”

  *    *     *

their arrival point was hardly anything climactic—although ‘cinematic’ was still a word that seraphim would’ve used. in a very regional gothic sort of way. the sun was high by that point, not a cloud in the sky and it was so blue that it hurt her eyes. she could see roaring vegas in the distance as she stood by the front of the coup, taking a drag off of her cigarette. her usual pre-mission ritual these days.

“i didn’t know you smoked,” succubus said quietly, but even as soft as her voice was, seraphim jumped anyway, coughing. “oh shit, sorry, i didn’t mean t—“

“it’s okay! it’s okay. it’s a gross habit. i keep telling lilith i’ll quit, but…” she stared at it in the v of her fingers, shrugged, and then took one long final inhale before flicking upwards, snapping her fingers, and—where the hell did it go? “i don’t know. i don’t have a lot of motivation to stop. and anyway, that’s not why we’re here, we’re here!” with a grand flourish, she turned, motioning to the spread of desert before them. “to catch a monster.”

succubus grinned. “i do like the sound of that.”

“hell yeah you do! we are the fuckin’ veil!” tahoe had a mapped spread out over the car’s hood, covered in various markings. “shit, iiiiii am utter garbage at location work, i wish jarbridge was out of medical already—“ she laughed. “man she’s probably high as a kite right now anyway. she’d be useless. okay, look just—you two come over here.”

seraphim and succumbs watched at her shoulders as she pointed with one black-painted nail to a part of the map marked with three sharpie x’s, all in a triangle and all on the other side of a low, craggy ridge about a mile or so from where the dirt roadside where they’d parked. “based off of all the intel we’ve been able to gather, we think that it’s home base is right around here. now, it’s daytime, and this thing is one nocturnal son of a bitch, so the strategy is to get a jump on him on his home turf. catch him with pants down, or whatever.”

succubus hummed, “oh, now those are my favorite kind of missions—“

tahoe lifted her eyebrows. “remind me to ask you some questions when this is all over and we get celebratory shots on the strip or something. now!” in a few wide strides she was at the trunk, popping the lid with the wave of a hand as she walked. “these are yours.” she handed seraphim her usual pistol, and succubus a standard issue handgun marked by the roanoke insignia and a few sigils she couldn’t quite recognize.

“there’s my baby!”

“uh, morgan, what kinds of babies have you been around…?” but seraphim was too busy taking practice swings with a large wooden bat, embedded with nails, wrapped in barbed wire and prayer beads.

“rae, meet virgil. virgil, rae. most trustworthy man i’ve ever met.”

succubus lifted her eyebrows in approval. “will, uh, i get one of those—?”

seraphim had the audacity to wink. “if you make one yourself. i’ll tell you virgil’s story over all those shots tahoe said she was going to buy us here in a second.”

but tahoe was back studying the map. something about her posture was different. her back straighter, her lips in a tighter line. there was a beat before she lifted her eyes to the agents, sighing. “i wish there was something more i could give you. anything more. but this is it.” another short exhale. “we don’t know what, exactly, this is. but you two are going to be the best crack at it that we’ve taken so far. if things get hairy, just head back here. i’ll stay here with the ride. my office is a button-press away. don’t—“ she swallowed. seraphim felt nervousness tug at the base of her stomach. this wasn’t like emilia. “don’t be scared to bail out. might’ve saved jarbridge her legs. i’ll be here, okay? comm’s on. you’ve got your specs. call me beep me, whatever.”

succubus lifted a hand, reflexively tracing the frames that rested across the bridge of her nose.

“… good luck.”

seraphim had one hand on the top of the holster strapped across her thigh, the other on virgil’s base. he rested easily across the width of her shoulders. she knew where the grooves were to keep the barbs from digging into her work jacket (although a few still did anyway). succubus realized the weird straps of leather stretching across seraphim’s back were just another holster as she took one more swing, then popped the back into the curved sockets. “we won’t let you down, em. rae—stay at my shoulder.”

but she waited until they were a ways down, making their own path through the sand before she kept going: “—but when i say get behind me, get behind me.”

succubus frowned. “what, you think i can’t handle it?”

“rae—“

“no, no, please, enlighten me.” they didn’t stop walking. their path started to descend down, and succubus could see the rocky edge they’d have to hike over to get to the triangle marked on tahoe’s map. she wondered if it’d be like the monster movies she’d watched as a kid; would there be a cave? a dark, yawning maw on a hillside, looking like it’s full of nothing but pitch, like how sophie walked into the cavern in howl’s moving castle?

seraphim didn’t answer immediately, but then: “this is our first time. not to make this sound all euphemistic and shit, but i’d prefer if you didn’t, i don’t know, get a part of your neck bitten out, get your bones broken—y’know. work stuff.”

succubus blew out a breath. “right. … right. i, uh. i’m—“

“don’t.” seraphim smiled. succubus realized how easy it looked, sliding onto her countenance.

it didn’t make sense.

she’d seen this same woman look absolutely haunted when she thought no one was looking.

“i’m here to act as guardian angel. this is a part of your training.” and softer: “… and mine, too.”

“hmm?”

“nothin’. just stay close, okay?”

“‘kay.”

  *    *     *

the rest of the walk was fairly quietly. seraphim kept singing under her breath, but succubus couldn’t make out anything familiar.  she thought she heard something like “it’s rainin’ tacos…”

they came up on top of the ridge, and succubus squinted, staring down. it was a sheer drop, and while it wasn’t like they were on top of the grand canyon, she was pretty sure a fall from this height could kill someone. or at least make sure they never walked again. seraphim whistled lowly, motioning off to the left. “looks like there’s a path that goes down.” her voice was soft, but solid. “if i had to guess, we’re probably standing on top of this thing’s house. ten bucks says there’s a cave or something similar down there.”

“deal.”

and as it turned out, there was a cave.

well—‘cave’ might’ve been too kind of a descriptor.

to seraphim it looked more like a giant had straight up just clawed a huge whole into the side of the rock. the entrance was marked by sharpened, jagged stones that looked too much like teeth for her liking.

they approached painfully slowly. as soon as the ground had evened out, seraphim had drawn her pistol, and succubus mimicked the movement. but there was no sound, nothing, save for the wind whistling over the ridge.

“look like about how you expected?”

“with a bit more cacti, yeah. and the police cruiser is a surprise.”

the saguaro looked like they belonged there, but that car did not. seraphim wondered if it was the same one she’d seen in the photo lilith had shown her, but this one had definitely been through the wringer.

all the windows had been shattered. the sun caught the shards of glass that surrounded it, making it look like someone had spilled stars onto the sand. it was covered in dents, the place where the engine was had been hit downward (whatever engine there had been was now probably less engine and more just… car parts scattered underneath the cruiser), but what caught her eye the most was a set of six long lines dug along the length of one side.

claw marks? teeth marks? it was anyone’s guess.

—oh. and we’re about to find out.

succubus suppressed a shiver underneath a full sun. “what do we do?” she whispered. she could see seraphim’s jaw working, brows furrowed.

“should’ve brought a grenade…” a short sigh. “well, too late now, and this isn’t exactly joe’s last d and d campaign. i don’t think charging in there is a good idea. we have no idea of the layout, and ‘strength in numbers’ doesn’t apply to every situation, especially not ones like this.” she lifted a hand and ran it along her chin. “… okay. okay. i have an idea.”

“what’s the idea?”

“you go wait by the cruiser. i’m gonna whistle and try to draw it out.”

“… are you being serious?”

seraphim grinned and it looked borderline maniacal. “sure am. something tells me it might have a weakness to sunlight, hence why we only see it at night. if it is demonic, like lilith thinks, i’ll be able to bind it. and if it’s undead—also like lilith thinks—then you’ll just dispatch it.” she nodded to the handgun at succubus’s hip. “those bullets are holy. should do the trick. now get over there. i’m going to see if i can pull off a tom and jerry, get the jump on it from behind if we can just lure it out.”

so. succubus found herself on her knees behind the front part of the cruiser, sheltering behind the busted metal. she watched as seraphim had walked a far, wide circle, coming back to the ridge face and slowly edging her way along the rock, her spine pressed as flat against the stone as it would go. virgil, abandoned for the moment to make space, leaned against the rock some ways away. succubus was already regretting that decision.

it felt like ages passed as she side-stepped. side-stepped. side-stepped. side-stepped again.

until finally seraphim was close to the cave’s mouth. but she didn’t draw her gun again, like succubus had expected. it stayed holstered alongside her thigh. but she did roll up her sleeves to reveal—were those tattoos? where had those come from? succubus couldn’t remember seeing them before. had she found time to mark herself somehow?

but she didn’t have enough time to ponder. because seraphim met her eyes, nodded once, and turned her neck.

there it came, a whistle, low, long and, succubus reasoned if she could hear it from all the way behind the police car, loud. seraphim abruptly jerked back, flattening herself again. her palm spread wide against the stone, trying to feel the vibrations of movement, the vibrations of anything.

but an entire minute passed. then two. then five.

seraphim blew some air into her cheeks, and with trembling legs, finally began walking back towards the car. “look, rae, i think maybe the recon team got the wr—“

it came so quickly that seraphim immediately collapsed to her knees. it was a high-pitched banshee wail of a shriek, so cacophonous and blaring that even when succubus jammed the heels of her hands over the shell curves of her ears it did nothing to soften the sound. she screwed her eyes shut, and just as abruptly as it started, it was done. when she opened them, trying to remember how to breathe, how inhaling and exhaling felt, seraphim had collapsed onto her rear on the other end of the cruiser.

succubus swallowed. “what. the fuck. was that.” her voice was quiet. a jet plane would have been quiet in comparison to what they’d just heard.

seraphim had no color in her face and couldn’t immediately answer. “… okay. that’s uh. probably the target. i apologize, i completely gave in to the monkey brain flight-or-fight response there and didn’t pick the right one.”

“i don’t know if i necessarily agree.” they stared at each other for a few beats of silence. both were afraid to move. it wasn’t something either of them were trying to hide that moment. “—what do we do now?”

seraphim took a breath, her mouth moving to answer, but was interrupted by—succubus didn’t know how to describe it, not straight away. it had different parts, all moving and all happening so close together it was hard to pick them apart. the whoosh of air, the clean cut of metal on metal, that short of shink noise that a knife made up against a whetstone. succubus blinked.

she thought she’d seen sparks between them.

literal sparks, as if the side of the car had been hit with something.

her mind was trying to catch up.

… are those claws?

the fingertips—nails, talons, claws, all of them—of a hand (‘hand’ was a generous descriptor in this instance) were sticking out of the side of the car. not opening the door. they were sticking out having gone through the outer frame of the cruiser.

tap. … tap tap.

succubus was going to be sick.

taptaptaptaptaptaptap—

seraphim abruptly fell backwards as the half of the car she’d been leaning against was wrenched back, and she found herself staring upwards, right into the face of the monster of the photograph.

“jesus christ you are so much uglier up close.”

“morgan for fuck’s sake—!“

succubus was reaching, grabbing, trying to grasp her pant leg, something as this thing let out another scream. it threw the chunk of cruiser down where seraphim had been lying in partial shock just seconds earlier. the crash was deafening and before seraphim quite knew what was happening, she was sprinting across the sand with her elbow in a grip that was almost bone-crushing.

“run!”

it didn’t matter that they were armed. it was too close too fast. there was no time. no space. it was on them like–what was it poltergeist had liked to say? white on rice.

that thing didn’t have to make a noise, they could both hear the hoofbeats behind them, could see the too-long, too-prickled shadow catching up to overtake theirs on the desert ground.

“what the fuck! what the fuck! shit!” succubus wasn’t leading them back to tahoe, then there’d be three dead agents instead of just two, and she absolutely believed that there was for sure going to be two.

“—i have another idea!”

“oh fucking great!”

“no no no, this one’ll work i’m positive!”

“isn’t that what you said last time?!”

“if you remember correctly, i said no such thing! trust me, old school always works! let me go on three, okay? one—three!”

succubus hadn’t planned on turning around, but then the—demon? zombie? old forgotten demigod or someone’s bastard offspring? who knew?—started to make a new sound. she ran until its shadow wasn’t touching anything in her sight, ending up back against the ridge. only then did she turn.

… wow.

what she hadn’t seen was seraphim pulling off what she’d honestly considered a hail mary.

they couldn’t outrun it. in the time it would take them to draw their guns, it probably would’ve sliced them open at the elbows. and as any necromancer, or exorcist, or witch, or sorcerer can tell you: it’s very, very difficult to concentrate enough to do anything, let alone put up a decent defense or guard, when you’re actively being chased and doing the opposite of gaining ground.

not for seraphim, anyway.

not yet.

as soon as succubus’s grip released from her arm with a push, seraphim dropped like dead weight onto her back and prayed—prayed very, very hard, and focused, just like she’d been taught.

she forced her elbows to meet, right up to her wrists, as she was very, very narrowly missed being stepped on (which would’ve been lethal—apparently she’d missed the velociraptor feet the first go-around). and as she did so, the marks on her arms made a shape—a circle, decorated with smaller symbols, around and around and around…

a seal.

“a capite ad calcem.”

from head to heel.

freeze, motherfucker.

succubus turned in time to see the target upheld over seraphim, who was flat on her spine against the dirt, directly underneath it. it almost looked like it was being suspended by the thinnest strands of razor wire—succubus kept catching glints as it thrashed, and something black began to ooze out of it.

seraphim had some drip right onto her flushed cheeks, struggling a bit to keep the seal intact.

succubus began to understand why poltergeist had brought her up so often. for a beat, she could only stare.

and with a bit of surprise, she realized she didn’t feel envy, or any kind of spite—because that’s just what adam would have wanted, isn’t it? to break a thing before it got a chance to breathe?—she felt awe.

she felt pride.

which quickly melted into panic as soon as seraphim’s voice cut through her haze, upped a pitch in the chaos. “rae? buddy? a little help? this dude’s—oh shit, no you do not, asshole mcgee—just a smidge stronger than i first thought. show me what you’ve got! deport this fucker!”

every line blazed into a brightness that hurt her to look at for too long, and it suddenly all snapped into place. every single thing poltergeist had taught her, flooding back. perhaps her learning retention was better than she thought.

as another of the monster’s cries echoed against the ridge wall—this one perhaps a bit more pain than rage—she ran closer.

those were petrov lines—which meant that was an azrael seal. azrael was an archangel who had special dominion over retribution; his marks (and succubus understood that oh, those are what seraphim had on her arms, i just couldn’t recognize them in broken pieces—) aided in trapping demonic entities that had manifested onto the physical plane. this was one of the first seals that seraphim had been taught, and for good reason.

okay. so a demon.

but petrov lines, those only appeared for beings that were demonic just in part. something that came from some of the in-between worlds, an underworld that was a hell but not a hell.

something that succubus merely recognized as undead.

fuck, it’s both.

but succubus suddenly felt a surge of confidence at the light of the lines, and she lifted her hands, gun forgotten, darkness already beginning to twine out from her elbows, down to her wrists. she stalked, predatory, and seraphim tried to both watch her partner and keep this thing under control.

she may not have seen succubus’s hand motions, the intricate movements of her fingers in rapid succession followed by a definitive slicing motion.

but she heard her, speaking in the same tongue she had.

“ad initium—asshole!”

seraphim watched as cords of black intertwined with the lightlines, and kept watching as they found the creature’s neck.

it was both forces together that bore themselves down and quite literally razored the being into little chunks. no more black fell on seraphim’s face. it simply dissipated, as if it had turned to ash.

what was it that lilith had said?

walking different sides of the same road.

it took about a minute for it to disappear completely, and when it did, for about as long, neither agent moved. seraphim was exhausted. muscle fatigue manifested as tremors in her arms. she stared up at an empty sky as succubus slowly walked towards her, finally kneeling down by her side.

“… you good?”

“… yeah. you good?”

“yeah.”

“groovy.”

seraphim closed her eyes. she could’ve fallen asleep if she hadn’t started to hear distant yelling: “oh my god what did you two DO?!” tahoe was scrambling down towards them, yelling, looking equal parts horrified and elated. “i heard—oh my god, i—morgan, rae, you’re alive, you’re both alive, hallelujah, and no bones! morgan, what the fuck is all over your face? whose blood is that? is that blood? holy shit i can’t believe you—woah woah!” she caught succubus as she flopped off to the one side, threatening to collapse. “rae. rae, stay away. morgan. … morgan!”

she slapped the exorcist on the bicep, and the exorcist in question swore but in a much more whiney tone than she’d originally meant, to which tahoe just quipped: “oh walk it off you big baby. we’ll have a beta team come out and cleanse this area, it’s still tainted, which means if you’re gonna faint, you can’t do it here. c’mon now, up we go—“

succubus, as a newer recruit, had the luxury of tahoe’s arm around her waist, helping her to stagger to her feet. seraphim had a few false starts before she managed to first roll up onto her knees, then finally, to stand. her first few steps were shaky. but she shook her head, blinked a few times, and glanced over at succubus and tahoe walking back towards the car.

and they grew steadier, as she went.

around thirty minutes later, time found them all sitting at the bar of a classic, neon-tinged greasy spoon diner, complete with black-and-white checkered floors and a jukebox in the corner that apparently knew three songs: rocketman, dancing queen, and under pressure.

not a bad mix, honestly.

“ladies!” tahoe was the first to lift her shot glass. the three of them swirled with some cheap well tequila, given a pink sheen from the lights. “what do we want to toast to?”

“… uhm.” seraphim mumbled, staring at her glass. “weee… should toast toooo…”

“… new friendships?” succubus had spoken so softly that at first, seraphim wasn’t sure she’d heard her. but once she understood, she grinned, broadly.

“to new friendships—and to the first of many victories.” succubus smiled back at her. … i think i could really like it here.

“cheers!”

their glasses clinked to the tune of sir elton john, crooning softly: “and i think it’s gonna be a long long time… and i think it’s gonna be a long long time…”

[bounnostra]

hellboy | trial 5+.2 | convoy @ votes, runa, quinine

"... I do not believe it to be Ms. [Ivey]."

... Really? Did his word matter on this? Would people think of it as just some kind of cowardly, redemption-seeking move?

"Yes, I don't know her like some of you do, but sh- she was... she..."

He lays his fists solidly against his lap, clenching, unclenching.

"She showed me kindness and understanding... in the form of listening to me, hearing what I had to say about my actions. She didn't-- or at least didn't seem to doubt my word, she could have easily thought I was simply lying through my teeth to get the guilt off my shoulders-- she told me how much it hurt to see others calling me sweet adjectives... softie this, sensitive that... when all she had seen of me was an aggressor... I wouldn't want either."

He grimaces-- the words aren't even difficult to say. He knows what he's capable of. He realizes what he could do, even to the ones he loves. He often overthinks it, how much damage he could have caused in past cycles--(Would I have hurt him? or them? or her? would I have succeeded in my end goals? Would I have done damage unparalleled, unspeakable, something to be demonized for? If our memories return and it all becomes a reality, what will I have left? Who will I have left? Will I still have a reason to fight now?)

... His expression relaxes, though not entirely. There's still a frown that will hardly leave its resting place.

"Yet... she still listened to me... and..."

Okay there! Maybe get back on track!

"... Proving that you have a good will is certainly something extremely hard to do when most people hardly put trust in others to begin with, but-- set your surface-level assumptions to the side for a moment, will you? I think this is exactly the wrong track."

"I-- I'm not saying this to defend her, she defends herself just fine, and so does Ms. [Duck]. But I think... I think you shouldn't judge her based on apparent... 'theatrics', or 'speech pattern'. It's just a written message. Anyone... a lot of us could take the time off to elaborate a message that carries some kind of flourish. Nothing says that the way you write is the way you speak."

He seems to be vaguely adressing... Rookie and Moss... on account of their votes, but... he does seem to make a general statement of it, too.

... If he was willing to put a word in for Ivey, then who would he believe capable of this? Was it really a matter of humanity, at this rate? ... No, there was something else. A role-- two roles being played. Claire, Mothman, Aki-- they let death happen like it was just another Monday. Words fell on deaf ears. There was a sense of indifference... resignation?

Would it not make sense if the Gran Duo felt the same? If they weren't amnesiac like the rest of them, wouldn't they be playing out some of the emotions they felt?

He looks at Runa mirroring his speech, her wide grin directed straight at him nothing short of genuine. He wants to return the gesture, but he feels stuck in place. There’s almost a smile-- but a single tear looks like it wants to peek out first.

...

Hearing Quinine’s words seems to snap him out of it, though, and he runs his sleeve over the tear with a quiet huff.

“Miss [Quinine]... I understand the protectiveness over the one you love-- but... you hardly seem to know anything of [Runa] herself and... her ‘mob of supporters’, if that’s what you’re going to call her friends. This isn’t to say that her actions were just, but perhaps you shouldn’t speak so hastily when you don't have the full picture.”

He shifts his gaze back to Runa, his expression still complicated.

“... Back then, I asked Mr. [Orwell] for an explanation, and I intend to hear one from her and Ivan as well.”

[xxsksxxx]

Almost Heaven

Summary:

Mulder’s attempt to find more exciting cases to investigate while stuck in the bullpen turns into another weekend trip to the forest.

Meanwhile, Scully is faced with a tempting offer that could change both her future and their lives.

This story is complete, and I’m going to post one chapter a day.

AO3 | Back to the Beginning | @today-in-fic

Chapter 6: Misty Taste of Moonshine, Teardrop in My Eye

Alpos Lodge and Inn, Davis, WV Mulder’s motel room 7:00 p.m.

A rapid sequence of knocks against his motel room door made Mulder jump in his seat and turn his head towards the sound. He’d been engrossed in his notes, trying to figure out where they’d gone wrong today. There had to be an explanation why they hadn’t found the Mothman Mr. Murphy had seen. There were just too many signs that it had been near that clearing.

Another knock, followed by his name, slightly muffled. Scully, he thought and got out of his chair. The sudden movement made the room spin for a second, and he closed his eyes against the dizziness. This feels like a concussion, he thought. Better make sure that Scully doesn’t catch it, or we’re going to the hospital. He quickly moved towards the door and opened it.

“Fancy seeing you here, Scully,” he quipped while Scully was already brushing past him into his room. She had taken a shower already and changed clothes, he noticed. He gave his wet pants and shirt a rueful glance. Maybe he should’ve done that first as well, before checking his notes.

Scully turned to him and gave him the once-over. It was probably only his imagination, but for a moment it almost looked like she was checking him out. He shook his head. Scully was most likely just wondering why he was still in the dirty and wet clothes he’d been wearing all day.

He hurried over to the bathroom and got a towel to rub at his hair—and regretted it immediately when he involuntarily put pressure on the little bump at the back of his head. A glance towards Scully made sure that she didn’t see him flinch. There was no way he was going to go to the hospital tonight.

“I can’t figure out why we couldn’t find any more traces of the Mothman,” he called back into the room where Scully had picked up his notes, reading with raised eyebrows.

“My guess would be it’s because it doesn’t exist,” she replied dryly without looking up.

“I was thinking about going back first thing tomorrow morning and checking if the gunmen have any reports on sightings in the area.” He lowered the towel to look hopefully at her. “If we leave at seven, get some breakfast on the way, we could be back in D.C. by ten, eleven at the latest, and get Frohike to do his magic.”

Scully put the notes down and turned to Mulder, who was still leaning against the doorjamb to the bathroom with the wet towel draped over his head, looking hopeful. “Or we could just—” she stopped in the middle of the sentence.

Mulder watched her, curious about what she was going to say next. “Just what, Scully? You want to go back into the forest and see if we have more luck without Murphy there?” He put the towel down and toed the wet shoes off his feet, carelessly kicking them into a corner of his room, then turned to Scully in surprise. “Or are you suggesting we check tonight?” He gave her a thoughtful look. “That might be a good idea, actually. Maybe that’s why we didn’t find anything today. Mothmen have historically been spotted more often in the dark.”

Scully gave him a confused look. “What? Mulder, no. That’s not what I was thinking at all.” She took a step closer, grabbing his forearm lightly. “We could just take a break. You know, relax a bit. Possibly watch a movie or something. Have some dinner?”

He chuckled. “A movie? Sure, we can do that. I think I saw a takeout menu next to the phone. We can order some pizza if you want.” He shrugged and turned towards the chipped side table with a phone on it. Sure enough, a leaf-eared, greasy takeout menu was sitting right next to it. “Why don’t you check if there’s anything on we can watch?” he said, pointing at the TV.

He bent down to pick up the brochure and winced when a sharp pain pulsed through the tender bump at the back of his head. Mulder tried to hide his reaction quickly, but sure enough, Scully, who’d been watching him the whole time, noticed.

Her eyes turned concerned as she stepped closer, and the line between her brows stood out in sharp relief. “Mulder, are you okay? Did you hit your head?”

He waved her off with a dismissive hand. “Not really. Just a little bump, Scully.” He picked up the takeout menu, avoiding her gaze, hoping to steer the conversation away from himself.

Scully raised her hand, trying to examine his head for any trauma. “Let me check, just to be sure. Head injuries can be dangerous. If you have a concussion, maybe we should—”

Mulder gently pushed her hand away, before her hand could reach his head. “Really, Scully, it’s nothing. I just met with a branch that didn’t want to let me through earlier. It’s just a little tender. I don’t have a concussion. Hard head, remember?” he joked, simulating giving the side of his head a few knocks with his knuckles.

Scully sighed, her arm dropping to her side. “Alright, but promise me you’ll let me know if you start feeling dizzy.”

“Indian scout’s honor,” Mulder said, raising his fingers into a boy scout salute. He turned back to the menu, trying to change the subject. “So, what kind of pizza do you want?”

Scully hesitated. “I was thinking… maybe we could use this time to relax. Take a break. We’ve been stuck in that bullpen for months now, bored out of our minds. Why not use this weekend to enjoy ourselves a bit? Have a nice dinner somewhere. Maybe watch a movie or visit a museum in D.C. when we’re back?”

Mulder looked up, a bit puzzled. “A break? But we still don’t know what Mr. Murphy saw. If we don’t stay on it now, we might never find out! Don’t you want to work on this? This is the closest we had to an X-File in weeks.”

Mulder watched as Scully’s expression changed and turned into an unreadable mask. Only her eyes were filled with an emotion that Mulder couldn’t quite place, he noticed, surprised. He felt a pang of confusion as he watched her force a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Right. You’re right, Mulder. We should stay focused on the case if we want to get more information on that Mothman.” Her voice was steady, but there was an underlying tension that made Mulder uneasy. He tried to meet her eyes again, but she was keeping her face turned away now.

She turned away slowly, her movements slightly stiff but very deliberate. She covered her mouth with her hand, suppressing a yawn that looked utterly fake to Mulder. “But I think I’m going to get some rest instead, then, Mulder. If we want to be back in D.C. and at the gunmen’s before 10, I probably should turn in early.”

Mulder watched her move towards the door, utterly bewildered by her sudden departure. He instinctively reached out with his hand, moving to give her shoulder the usual squeeze, a habit that had become a ritual of comfort for him in the last few months.

But when he squeezed her shoulder, she didn’t lean into him, like she usually did, or put her hand on his, squeezing it back. Instead, she was as rigid as a board, not moving or reacting to his touch at all. It was a small but significant change that left him feeling slightly unsettled, even if he couldn’t pinpoint why.

Mulder followed her retreat towards the door with his eyes. She never turned back around.

“Goodnight, Mulder,” she said while walking out and closing the door softly behind her, the click reverberating in Mulder’s head far louder than it actually had been.

“Goodnight, Scully,” he replied quietly, staring at the closed door. His intuition was screaming at him that something more was going on than her being tired and wanting to get an early start. His stomach tightened. He replayed their conversation of the last ten minutes in his head, trying to pinpoint what he had missed. She wanted a break to relax from the boredom of their current mind-numbing assignment. He could sympathize with that—which was after all one of the reasons why he’d asked her to come along. He’d thought she’d enjoy a good mystery—that he’d remind her how much fun these cases could be.

Shaking his head in confusion, Mulder decided to let it rest for the night. He’d ask her tomorrow. And if she really wanted to go see a museum, maybe they could go tomorrow afternoon after all, after they’d talked to the gunmen. He shivered, remembering his now damp and clammy clothes, and headed for the shower, hoping the hot water would warm him up a bit.

But while he carefully soaped up his hair with the little motel soap, avoiding the tender area at the back of his head, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had missed something. Something important.

[highstrangeness-blog]

Men In Black

Okay, so here today we're just going to state some FACTS. I really only have time to discuss some of the more popular theories but being a rather experienced occult researcher, I am more interested in the conclusions you draw yourself than the rabbit holes of Creepypasta, anyhow.

So, I guess I should define the term Men In Black or MIB. It's a generic term used for any threatening/strangely behaved individual(s) who can be linked in some fashion with a ufo sighting. I'm sure you already have a preconceived notion of these people due to the popular movie by the same name. If you're thinking about Tommy Lee Jones and Will Smith, stop it. Take a second, maybe do a shot of whiskey, maybe hit the vape, whatever you need to do to open that mind hole of yours.

Okay, back to MIB. There have been a ton of MIB reports in connection to all things occult or supernatural, not just UFO sightings. There's a ton of theories on who these people are, and I mean a fuckin- shit ton.

The most common one is that the MIB are quasi-government agents; many people report MIB flashing “credentials of higher authority" before warning them to stop talking about the occult.

A lot of these first hand reports state the MIB as strange looking humanoids with very strange mannerisms pointing at the possibility that they are potentially the very aliens they're trying to keep secret. Many accounts of MIB report they look almost doll-like, completely bald without eyebrows or eyelashes, pale white skin, have thin, bright Ruby red lips, and speak almost robotically. One witness was approached by MIB after a "plane" crashed nearby. When he sat down to question the family, his pants revealed a bright green wire running up his ankle going into a brown dot on his leg. The witnesses asked the man if he wanted something to eat, the man declined but said he would need a glass of water in 10 minutes to take a pill. 10 minutes of questioning the family about the specifics of their bodies, tattoos, birthmarks, etc. The man's face became beat red, he requested the water. He took a large yellow pill and went back to normal. When he left he walked out the door, hailed a large, black Cadillac that pulled up with no driver, and pulled away with no headlights on. This is one of hundreds of strange but similar accounts of MIB encounters. Many others mention MIB having long limbs, skin cold to the touch, non-bending joints, and telepathic-like communication.

OK, so we’ve covered quasi-government agents and aliens. This third theory is much deeper than i can really get into, or fully comprehend but I’m going to do my best with a little help from Reddit user: farcaller on the What Is A Tulpa (No Bullshit Definition) Thread. First off let’s define what the fuck A Tulpa even is. A tulpa is an entity that was created by conscious effort of another entity; i.e, a manifestation or emanation as it’s known in Tibetan Spurl-pa. Ever feel like you willed a bad situation upon yourself by overthinking it? Tulpas can grow and mature over time just like that bad situation, the more thought power you give to it, the more powerful it grows. It’s believe that these thoughts will eventually reach a level of maturity whereupon they will develop and grow at a rate comparable to that of any other person. It is also theorized that mass meditation(or extreme emotion) can almost catapult this entity into consciousness. Like all living creatures (because tulpas are living things even if they are just thought forms) they need to feed on something, that something is extreme emotion, like fear. We all here, thinking and giving consciousness energy to this entity (MIB); we’re feeding the tulpa. Slenderman is a really great example of this. About 10 years ago Slenderman only existed in the dark corners of creepypasta, the more popular this lore became bearing memes, video games, stories, and “first-hand” accounts themselves it all seems to come to a head with The Slenderman Stabbings. If you’re not familiar; two young girls lead a third into the woods, killing her as a sacrifice to Slenderman. This began a wave of other crimes done in the name of slenderman. Taking lives and gaining power through fear is almost as real as any other living creature, being a perfect example of what a tulpa is and what the human mind can do (especially in mass quantities.)

Albert K. Bender famed UFOlogist living in Bridgeport, Connecticut created the international flying saucer bureau after becoming obsessed with the occult as a young adult. With almost 600 members, they were dedicated to furthering the study of mysterious crafts. Shortly after its founding, the IFSB reached out to members around the world through a quarterly journal, Space Review. The newsletter shared stories of UFO sightings and offered theories about the origins of these seemingly inexplicable objects. Soon after Albert organized the IFSB the researcher became hounded with ill health, strange phone calls, telepathic messages, the smell of burning sulfur and strange apparitions. November 1952, at a local movie theater Bender realized a strange man with glowing eyes observing him. On a separate occasion late one night on Broad Street Bender reported he was telepathically hypnotized and levitated. To further his experiments, Bender prompted readers of Space Review with an audacious request: memorize and silently recite, on a particular day and time, a letter penned by Bender. Albert’s goal was to connect with Alien life via the simultaneous thought-projection of hundreds of IFSB members. World Contact Day, or as Bender and the IFSB officially preferred, “C-Day,” commenced at 6 o’clock in the evening March 15th, 1953. The letter included a cryptic message, and warning: “The mystery of the flying saucers is no longer a mystery. The source is already known but any information about this is being withheld by orders from a higher source. We would like to print the full story in Space Review but because of the nature of the information we have been advised in the negative. We advise those engaged in saucer work to be very cautious.” (Remember Tulpas are created through, conscious energy and are given strength through mass meditation and high emotion) July 1953 Albert Bender was visited at his home by three men. Bender stated “All of them were dressed in black clothes. They made it clear to Bender that he was to immediately halt all UFO work. They communicated telepathically: “Stop publishing.” Before departing, the MIB confiscated copies of Space Review and in their wake a yellow fog materialized and the smell of burning sulfur returned. And finally, The telepathic messages, headaches, his being stalked, and of course the surreal warnings by authoritarians in black suits, compelled Albert to shut down the International Flying Saucer Bureau in October 1953. ‘

John Keel is honestly, our main man in all of this. He is the main investigator of the Mothman and author of The Mothman Prophecies, investigated occult reports of all kinds and popularized the term "Men In Black" through his journalism. John used the term “Ultraterrestrials” to describe UFO occupants he believed to be non-human entities which can take the form of whatever they want. This maybe further evidence MIB are aliens along with Albert Bender’s(and many other)  accounts of them being unsettling weirdos that didn't look human. Keel would chase The Men In Black in attempt to confront them. He had the local police in many towns looking for them. When he was in West Virginia and Ohio, people would call his Hotel and tell them that the MIB were there, he'd race over to the location but they would be gone by the time he arrived. He reported being plagued by a burning sulfur smell, headaches, receiving strange phone calls, and witnessing strange apparitions. He also reported tons of MIB/occult accounts through his journalism like the time Mrs. Ralph Butler of Owatonna, Minnesota said an officer visited her in May of 1967 he went by the name Richard French. He was 5.9ft tall, had an olive complexion, dark long hair and pointed face. His clothing appeared to be brand-new, even the soles of his shoes were clean and un-scuffed. When Mrs. Butler offered him some Jello, he tried to drink the Jello and acted as if he'd never seen it before. Keel (and other high strangeness reports, like Mary Hyre) documented an influx of MIB encounters while investigating the mothman. It seems like almost everyone who had claimed to witness the “giant- human-bird like creature” in Pleasant Point, West Virginia more often than not also encountered MIB closely after. During his investigation Keel heard reports of a mysterious blonde woman in her thirties with a southern accent, who visited people in West Virginia and Ohio whom Keel had interviewed prior. She even visited those he had not mentioned in print. She introduced herself claiming to be "John Keel's secretary" thus winning instant admission. The clipboard she carried held a complicated form filled with personal questions about the witnesses' health, income, the type of cars they owned as well as their general family background and some fairly sophisticated questions about their UFO sightings. John Keel didn't learn about this woman until months later when one of his friends in Ohio wrote to him and happened to mention her. He didn't have a blonde secretary, let alone a secretary at all.

One Mothman Witness Keel interviewed, 18-year-old Connie Carpenter was driving home from church, when she came face-to-face with the Mothman, almost causing her to have an automobile crash. Almost four months later, Connie reported being nearly kidnapped by MIB. 8: 15 A.M., February 22, 1967. Connie left her house to go to school. As she started to walk down the street a large black car pulled up alongside her. She later identified it as a 1949 Buick. The occupant of the car opened the door and gestured for her to come closer. Thinking he needed directions Connie approached him. He was a young, clean-cut man of about twenty-five, wearing a colorful Mod shirt, no jacket (it was bitter cold), had neatly combed hair and appeared to be suntanned. This suntan was a very interesting detail, which has turned up in other MIB accounts. As she grew close the “man” grabbed her but she struggled and ran away. Another Mothman Witness Mothman witness, Linda Scarberry, said in an interview with Mary Hyre: "The men wore black suits, black hats, and sunglasses. They drove black cars -Cadillacs, I think. ... They looked like human beings, but their skin was somewhat transparent. You could see the veins in their hands very clearly. Their fingers were longer than a normal person's fingers, as well. Daddy shook hands with them, and he said they were awkward in shaking hands. They seemed to not know what to do or how to shake hands." She said: "One of the cars would follow us around. There were three men in the car. ... The MIB went so far as to follow us through the drive-thru of a restaurant. We were afraid to turn around, and just looked in the mirror at them.” Mary Hyre also encountered these strange men, herself. All reports state that they have asked questions about the Mothman and warned all against speaking about it.

So, as you began to read through accounts and reports of occult sightings in general we began to see a pattern in things just as we can see generalized patterns throughout society in daily life. Mistakes, miscommunication, hersey, anecdotal experience but still there's something consolidating about the mass reports of similar legends throughout decades. Whether these legends are passed down unknowingly through family trees or collective consciousness; there's something that reaches a primal fear inside of us when our children come home with stories about the same boogeyman we encountered at their age. There’s a part of the human mind who realizes it’s power, who sees the coincidences in the things we think and see in reality. No one has ever come out as an abductee or witness to something occult whose life has been left positively impacted by the situation. Regardless of who or what you believe in, you can see similarities or you can see differences. I hope I presented these facts to you as coherent and rational as possible after three months of researching high strangeness on Reddit. I hope you can pull your own verdict from the accounts and reports presented to you tonight, at the very least I hope it sparks something in you to at least question your surroundings. It's not all what it seems.

Brooklen Porter

[ashesonthefloor]

1, 13, 14, 18, love you so much !!!!!! xoxo bella

hello my love!! thank u for sending this in xoxo I love u

1. what song makes you feel better?

oooh okay I’m gonna give u like four answers w wildly different vibes. this honestly depends on the day and what I am listening to music for and how I want to feel. BUT if I wanna feel better in a pumped up sort of way, braindead! by YUNGBLUD or Die Young by grandson. lately I have been looping Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths for when I want to feel comforted or when I’m in my weird feelings. and even MORE lately I’ve been looping Rasputin by Boney M. my top songs atm are.....insane, like, there is not ONE consistent vibe to be found. anyway. basically it depends on the vibe I’m chasing and all that. mmm music questions, perceive me

13. what’s your comfort food?

honestly almost anything w pasta SLAPS. like mmmmmmmm fettuccine Alfredo. also potato soup. or mac n cheese. yes I am lactose intolerant sometimes but listen, dairy slaps too much for me to not eat it. ALSO I really like cheeseburgers but I don’t know if they are so much a comfort food but kind of? maybe? I have eaten burgers for almost every birthday. ALSO lo mein actually. like I said. I am a pasta Whore if u will. a lil spaghetti slut™️

14. favorite feel-good show?

gooooddddddddd okay. Santa Clarita Diet. even though Netflix fucking CANCELLED IT ON A CLIFFHANGER It’s so so so good. that and Dead To Me which has been renewed for its last season thank fucking GOOODDDDD so I don’t have to worry about it also being left on a cliffhanger. both are just so well done plot wise and the characters are lovable. Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt is another I really love and rewatched constantly for ages, but I’ve recently stopped and been rewatching the other two <3 also this is a secret so don’t tell anyone but I have a Minecraft YouTuber I really like so I love watching his videos. they’re relaxing and he’s always so upbeat and happy and they’re fun to follow

18. do you still love stuffed animals?

YES???? unequivocally YES. my mom actually JUST bought me a lil mothman because I love him so much and I will show him but yes absolutely, stuffed animals are amazing. it’s only in the year of our lord 2021 that I have ACTUALLY been able to sleep w stuffed animals though, so I have recently been napping w my Cursed Pillow (courtesy of my sister, linked here if u were not here in December and didn’t see it) (it’s a 5sos/1D tour shirt she stuffed a pillow into and sewed shut for my Christmas gift). but hell yeah I love stuffed animals

ft. mr. mothman who I love and adore <3 even if he freaks people out <3

[eregyrn-falls-art]

A Visit to the International Cryptozoology Museum! (click on the pictures for larger versions and also some captions) When my friends and I went to Portland, Maine, on Saturday (for a minor-league baseball game), I made sure to schedule a stop at the International Cryptozoology Museum (the only one in the world!  apparently).  There is absolutely no way that a Gravity Falls fan could skip it.  (Though to be fair I would have been interested in it even before becoming a GF fan.)  (All of the friends with me have also watched GF.) This place is really wonderful, and I highly recommend it if you are in the Portland area, or even travelling through.  It's not a very big museum and could make a nice rest-stop on a longer trip, since it's located directly off 295 (easy on, easy off, as they say in the travel biz).  (Especially since there are some nice brewpubs and smaller restaurants in the same complex.) The exhibits really run the gamut, from mythical creatures, to hoaxes, to local folklore, to real creatures who were or are cryptids on the basis of their existence now or at one time having been in doubt (which is why their logo is a coelacanth), to manifestations of cryptids in popular culture, and a selection of taxidermy that covers both the real, and the hoaxes.  I really appreciated this breadth because all of those things interest me in different ways.  I think it's fair to say that the biggest focus of the museum is on Bigfoot and related creatures, accounting for the largest number of specimens.  They have a HUGE collection of bigfoot footprint casts, but they've also done a really good job pulling together things like artifacts from Native American cultures that relate to "hairy man" legendary or folkloric figures, which is really cool. For the Gravity Falls fan: it's definitely WAY less kitschy overall than the Mystery Shack (in setting), and the approach also isn't as heavily reliant on, um, showmanship in the vein of Mr. Mystery's tours.  It presents everything in a much more straightforward way, and it isn't there to call out the belief in various types of cryptids -- but, it also gives space to the sometimes ridiculous ways in which popular culture uses the subject.  So there's a sincerity here; it isn't winking at the subject, but sometimes it *is* laughing along with it, if that makes sense?  This is the kind of museum Ford would create, in other words. Which, for me, strikes just the right kind of note.  Because the breadth of the exhibits makes clear that sometimes when we talk about cryptids, we're talking about jackalopes and Fiji mermaids and the Jersey Devil... but sometimes we're talking about real creatures that are just very rare and that give rise to stories about monsters (they have a stuffed alligator gar that is like 6 feet long, and you look at that thing and think, yeah, if I got a glimpse of that in a murky lake, it would scare the pants off me, did you get a load of the TEETH in that thing?); and sometimes we're talking about how indigenous cultures will describe an animal (for example, the giant panda) that Europeans will classify as a cryptid until evidence of the living creature is finally obtained.  

For example, there's a whole exhibit about the thylacine (i.e. Tasmanian tiger, though it's more of a canid-like marsupial), which has been thought since 1986 to be extinct; but now there is going to be a scientific study conducted in Queensland, Australia, because there have been some credible sightings of what might be a remnant population up there, and holy cow, how exciting would that be if they were able to get photographic proof of some still-living thylacines?

(Also, if you are interested in the tradition -- mentioned in the caption of one of the pics -- of photos, or hoax-photos, of pteranodons from the 19th century labelled as “thunderbirds”, I direct you to this older post from @somer-joure, who talked about some of the history.) I just enjoyed it thoroughly.  10/10, would go again.

OH SHIT YOU GUYS!  I ALMOST FORGOT TO INCLUDE MY FAVORITE THING!!!

Like, I loved a lot of the things in the museum?  But this was just my absolute favorite - the Fur-Bearing Trout.  Not just because there is a joke about it in Gravity Falls. (I am assuming here because it’s probably not an uncommon taxidermy joke?  I don’t mean that the one in GF is a joke about this particular one, I just mean there’s also one in GF.)  

But also because LOOK AT IT.  IT’S ADORABLE.

They also had for sale a very nice patch of it where the fur is actually furry and pettable, so naturally I HAD to buy it.