#just 12’s local cryptid

[loonarmuunar]

I feel like any theories about what happened to Lucy Gray kinda ruins the intentional mystery of her. But tbh. The idea of her just being some weird old lady in 12 is hilarious to me. Nobody believes her about anything she says.

“Y’know I was the 10th winner of the games” “okay miss Lucy”

[platypanthewriter]

Hook Possum 2/4

Art by @monsdasarah​ for Harringrove Big Bang!

CHAPTER ONE

After dinner, Jonathan Byers got out his guitar, and started teaching them camp songs.  Steve resigned himself to weeks of Kum-ba-ya stuck in his head, but they heard a weird grinding, crunching noise in the distance, and Robin whispered “I think that came from the cemetery,” just to freak everyone out.

“The cemetery?!” a boy yelped, and Jonathan started playing The Bell Witch, because he was just as awful as Robin was.

 “Little Betsy, the age of 12/Living in a dream, the first one to scream,” he sang, and Steve groaned into his hands.

“Invisible hands/Leaving their mark in the dark

Night after night/The Bell Witch attacked and attacked

Torturing Betsy/Until a circle was held in candle light.”

 The littlest kids started climbing right up on Hook Possum.  The air filled with stories of the Bell Witch, and how she could travel, she could be anywhere, and how the bathrooms at Camp Butternut Springs were always cold.  

“They’re haunted,” Robin said, and Steve elbowed her, growling.

The bathrooms were always cold, because they were poured cement set in the hill, and the cabins warmer, because they were up the hill where they got some sun, and built of wood.  Steve tried to explain it every year, but every year the kids all started running around and shrieking about the goddamn Bell Witch.  The littlest kids asked Hook Possum to go with them to the toilets as it got dark.

Even Robin ‘Oh, that’s haunted’ Buckley took mercy, and didn’t tell them the local ghost stories.  Yet, anyway, Steve thought.  A small mercy. 

When Steve found a kid crying outside the bathrooms after playing the mirror game—they stared in and said I hate the Bell Witch, over and over, watching until their faces looked creepy and distorted in the low, flickering light—Steve sat down on the ground and patted his little sobbing shoulder, and sighed.

“Look,” he said, “—there’s only one ghost around here, Hook Possum.  Hook Possum is the ghost of possums who get hit by reckless drivers.  The Bell Witch isn’t here, because of Hook Possum, okay?”

“I s-saw s-something,” the kid wailed, clinging to Steve’s arm, and Steve pulled his sobbing hanger-on back to the fire.

“Hook Possum’s our local cryptid,” Dustin was saying, and then he had to explain to the younger kids what a cryptid was.  “Like Bigfoot,” he said, “—or the Loch Ness Monster.  Or the Pope Lick Goat Man.”

“...the what?!” Hook Possum asked, startled, and Dustin’s chest swelled with excitement as his grin widened.  

“The Pope Lick Goat Man,” Dustin breathed, “—was originally a farmer, who sacrificed his goats and who knows what else to Satan.”

“Dustin,” Steve sighed, as the story brought more kids around the fire.  

“He was reborn as a twisted goat man,” Dustin said over him, because Dustin wouldn’t have any frantic children banging on the door of his cabin at two am.  Dustin continued with relish.  “He lives under the train trestles of Pope Lick Creek, mimicking the voices of dead loved ones to lure people into the path of the train.  There have been so many deaths it’s illegal to go near there,” Dustin whispered, to his rapt audience of a bunch of children who were definitely gonna be too scared to go to the toilets that night, and they’d probably wet their beds.

“Dustin, come on,” Steve groaned.

“The trestle is over 750 feet long, and it’s a 90 foot drop,” Will Byers added, and Steve smacked his face into his hands, because he hadn’t expected that epic betrayal.  

“When the train comes, there’s nowhere to go,” Dustin continued, with relish.  “It’s said he’s so terrifying people leap to their deaths at the sight of him, even if there’s no oncoming train.  Ninety feet down into Pope Lick Creek.  That’s like jumping off an eight-story building.”

The kids gasped, and Steve pinched the bridge of his nose as Robin stepped in, grinning evilly.

“He’s been known to jump down from the trestle himself, to attack cars underneath with an axe,” she said.

“Augh!” squeaked one little boy, and the kid Steve had rescued from the Bell Witch mirror game clung tighter to Hook Possum, sniffling.

“Hook Possum has a hook,” Robin told the squeaking kid, once Steve elbowed her hard in the gut, again.  The kid did not look reassured.  “—and the Goat Man lives in Kentucky, over a hundred miles away.”

“Hook Possum jumps on cars too,” Dustin said cheerfully, and Hook Possum said “Wait, what,” again, as Dustin climbed up on one of the logs around the fire, holding his finger like a hook.

“Hook Possum is the vengeful spirit of possums killed by reckless drivers,” Robin explained—far from helping—and started telling tales of drivers stopping to pick up hitchhikers that turned into massive, man-sized hissing possums in the passenger seat of their car.

“One account is weirder, because the guy was super drunk,” she whispered, leaning in, and the kids listened, riveted.  “He picked up a hitchhiker, but when he looked in the backseat, it was just a coat around a fleet of possums,” she said with relish.  “They climbed all over him, scratching and biting—”

“I’m a ghost story?” asked Hook Possum, and Steve spun in place to see him half-shadowed in the light of the fire, the flames glinting off his molded teeth, his empty mesh eyes skull-like.

“Uh,” he said, giving an involuntary shudder.  “Yeah.  Didn’t you know?”

“Don’t let anything get me,” the kid Steve had rescued from the bathroom sobbed, throwing both arms around Hook Possum, and Hook Possum patted their hair.  

“I want real ghost stories,” said one of the kids around the fire, and Hook Possum breathed “You don’t think I’m real, kid?” with a little possum-y hiss in his voice, his silvery plastic hook reflecting the firelight, and the kid yelped.  “I’m scarier than anything else out there,” he growled, and Steve, in all honesty, had to agree.  The kid blinked huge eyes, and Hook Possum patted their head again, clumsily, nearly poking them in the eye as they giggled.  

Steve groaned, smiling, and wondered if Hook Possum knew what he was letting himself in for.  

That night, he patrolled by a cabin of boys talking about two travellers whose car was attacked by metallic thumps, and sure enough, the kids who’d been playing the mirror game and scaring the shit out of themselves all came and banged on the counsellor cabin door shrieking that they’d seen red lights in the woods, and demanded Hook Possum, who ended up costuming back up in the dark.  

Steve helped tie the costume at the back of his neck, and Hook Possum lurched by him to listen to them wail.  Steve could hear his confused growling from inside, and wandered out after a while to help.  

They spent a weird three-quarters of an hour standing in the humid night heat, making up stories about Hook Possum, and Steve maybe, sleepily, told everyone his limited stock of possum facts three or four times.  They eat ticks, the kids started reciting along with him.  Their body temperature is too high to carry fleas.  Steve could feel Hook Possum laughing against his shoulder.  

“Can you sleep hanging from your tail?” one asked, and Hook Possum shook his creepy paper-mache head, shoulders slumped like maybe he really wanted to.  

Steve patted his back.  “Possums can’t actually do that,” he said, grateful to be reminded of a possum fact he’d forgotten.  “They can use it to climb, though.”

“You are not helping,” Hook Possum hissed, as the kids started clamoring for him to climb a tree.  

“Sorry,” Steve whispered back, thinking fast.  “Uh, possums carry their young on their backs—” he started, and stopped, because that was obviously the wrong thing to say, and Hook Possum yelled as he got dog-piled to the ground.  

“Harrington,” he hissed from the ground, and for a second it sounded so familiar Steve paused, frowning vaguely at the lake, until Hook Possum’s yells threatened to wake the whole camp, and Steve had to pick up the top-most flailing child and threaten to throw them all in the water.  

“Go back to bed, all of you,” Hook Possum growled, and one of them hugged him.  

“Will you walk me to the cabin?” she asked softly, and he sighed, staring—maybe—at Steve.  

“Come on, might as well,” Steve told him, and Hook Possum snarled, but let the little girl grab his hook.  He then stumbled off the step edge of the boardwalk around the cabin, flailing his arms, and Steve grabbed him by one gross fursuited paw, clicking his flashlight on.  Since the little girl had the other one, and the whole horde of them trotted along surrounding Hook Possum, which made it slightly less weird to hold hands with him.

On the way back, Hook Possum was still unsteady, even without a kid yanking on him.  Steve tried to keep the flashlight pointed squarely where the guy could see it, but he kept tripping over stuff he couldn’t see in the mask, so Steve kept holding his hand, leaning close to whisper ‘there’s a root in the path,’ and ‘step up here,’ and feeling like he was escorting a drunk date home from a party.  

“...didn’t know you were into possums, Harrington,” Hook Possum muttered, laughing a little, and Steve snickered, thinking of the lines he and Robin had decided on if any kids wanted to talk about—about awkward things, like girls kissing girls.  He hoped they didn’t—he hoped they all talked to Robin, who seemed much more qualified, but he’d practiced saying ‘I’m honored you trusted me’ in the mirror.

“I’m trusting you with my secret possum...thing,” he said, snorting a laugh.  “Aren’t you honored.”

“More nervous,” Hook Possum whispered back, stumbling again.  “Don’t take advantage of me out here, Harrington.  I’ll play dead, I swear to god.  I’ll hiss and bite you.”

“I’d treat you right,” Steve told him, grinning.  “Get you ticks to eat or whatever.  And carrion.”

“Oh, okay then.  Gee.  Thanks, man,” Hook Possum laughed, making a gagging noise.

“Eat your ticks, they’re good for you,” Steve commanded, and felt Hook Possum laughing harder.

When they got back to the cabin—finally—everybody else was trying to sleep, so Steve turned Hook Possum around by the shoulders in the dark, taking the hook, and feeling along under the awful mask to untie the suit.  He helped lift the creepy mask—the face of it felt warm and damp with breath, and Steve shuddered—and then he tugged on the paws as Hook Possum struggled to extricate himself.

“...you don’t have to help,” he said, but he sounded tired, and Steve squeezed his warm naked shoulder.  

“I don’t mind,” he said, and one of the other guys hucked a pillow at them, groaning.

“Get a room,” he mumbled sleepily.

“G’night, Possum,” Steve whispered, snickering again, and Hook Possum shoved him, but Steve was sure he heard a muffled laugh.

 The next morning, everybody was kinda subdued, as usual—the kids that weren’t scared were more homesick than they’d realized, the excited kids hadn’t gotten very much sleep, and the kids that believed in ghosts hadn’t gotten any sleep at all, which was about three-quarters of the camp, thanks to Steve’s best friend Robin “That toilet seat is also haunted” Buckley.  

It was the first really hot day of the summer, so Robin and Steve took everyone canoeing, and the shallows filled with splashing, giggling, and shrieks. Steve trailed his hands in the water, climbing in and out of the canoe at every opportunity to pick kids up so they wouldn’t overturn the boat.  In the middle of the chaos that afternoon, when the kids were mostly too exhausted to row and too full of lunch to swim, but it was too damn hot to want to get out of the water, Hook Possum stalked by, wading straight into the lake, twenty, thirty feet out up to his chin, and just stood there, staring, smoke wafting from his mesh eyes.  

After a few minutes of watching the floating, smoking possum head, Steve stuck his paddle in the water to bring himself to a splashing halt—the kids in the canoe yelped and squealed—and then he shouted paddling orders until they came up alongside the creepy apparition sticking out of the water like a malevolent buoy.

“Ho there,” Steve said, responsibly, “—non-invasive, helpful local wildlife!  Are you in need of assistance?”

Hook Possum coughed, choking, and then growled, shaking his long papier-mache snout.  “Temporary insanity,” he groaned.  “Jesus.  Even the water is warm.”

“Better than sitting in your own sweat,” Steve said cheerfully, having worn the damn thing.  He remembered feeling like a dripping-wet half-rotten kitchen sponge, sitting in a sauna.  

“Kill me,” Hook Possum muttered, sighing, and one of the kids leaned out of the boat and put a baseball cap on him.  

“The shade helps,” she reported, and he sighed, looking even more ridiculous as a bedraggled, haunted possum head, smoke wafting from its empty eye sockets, with a baseball hat over one ear.

“...thanks,” he said, and she nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear, and digging out a tube of sunscreen.  She proceeded to rub it on her ears, nose, and all over the boy next to her, who sighed.

“Uh, just...wave if you...start to drown,” Steve told Hook Possum, wanting to be encouraging, but uncertain how to help someone dying of heatstroke in a horrible old possum mascot costume who was presently up to their neck in a lake.  He couldn’t see any expression on Hook Possum’s face, but he was pretty sure it was the face of someone with nothing to live for.  “Uh.  S’mores tonight?  I think?”

“...I can’t eat in this thing,” Hook Possum groaned, with a plume of eye smoke.

“We can hide in one of the cabins,” Steve told him.  “You can, um, transform.  In there.”

“...like Cinderella?” Hook Possum asked, snorting a laugh, and Steve grimaced.  

“I was thinking more like a werewolf at the full moon,” he said, and Hook Possum’s mask shook with laughter.  “Don’t drown,” Steve told him.  “I mean, if you die, you won’t get the money anyway, so you might as well take the damn thing off.  And I’ll bring you s’mores.  With extra chocolate.  Chocolate is worth it, right?  How d’you like your marshmallows?”

The creepy, lumpy mask turned to him, its mesh eye holes more alarming than ever with the way the sun hit the smoke.  “...you giving me something to live for, Harrington?”

“Don’t die in a possum suit, man, you don’t want that on your gravestone,” Steve said fervently.  “And think about the funeral.  Everybody trying to say nice things and you in that thing.  Have a heart—”

“I think the funeral parlor would probably take it off my body,” said Hook Possum, genuinely laughing, and Steve blinked.

“Oh.  Oh, yeah, they probably would,” he said, nodding.

“Anyway, nobody’d come to my funeral,” Hook Possum said, snickering, and Steve leaned over and smacked his snout.  The water around the canoe splashed a little, and the kids yelped, watching them in exhausted, overheated fascination.

“You’re not a possum,” Steve reminded the guy, who turned his head towards Steve again, probably to stare.  Steve grabbed his painted snout, holding his attention.  “You’re not a real possum.  People would come.  Max would come, and me—”

“...you think?” Hook Possum laughed, and Steve glared.  “Okay, okay, sorry,” he said, sounding like he was grinning.  “I won’t drown.  Hook Possum says no drowning, kids.”

“I used to think Smokey the Bear did that,” said the boy dripping with sunscreen.  “You know, just walked up to you and said ‘don’t start forest fires,’ like that.  This huge bear.  I was terrified.”

“I could just walk up to boaters and say ‘don’t drown,’” Hook Possum snickered.  “Alongside the boats.  Hiss at them.”

“Holy shit,” Steve cackled, letting go of the mask.  “You should.  Do it.  Do it to Robin—her, look, over there—”

Hook Possum turned to look, and then moved silently through the water, his head floating along the surface like a duck gone wrong.  Steve and the kids floated in the water, holding their breaths, until the other boat erupted in shrieks and overturned.

“Oh, he is so getting s’mores,” Steve wheezed, laughing until he could hardly breathe.

 When the kids started to wander towards dinner, Steve found Hook Possum again, hanging onto the dock.  

“You okay, man?” he asked, and Hook Possum nodded silently, so Steve crouched down to have a look.  “You coming in?  It’s cooled off some,” he said, and Hook Possum nodded again, but didn’t move.  “...you need help?” Steve asked, and Hook Possum paused for a second before shaking his head.  

Steve waited, and finally, Hook Possum cleared his throat.  “Fuck off, I can do it, I’m fine.”

He obviously wasn’t.  “You feel sick?” Steve asked, used to the first aid questions after so many summers helping around camp.  “Tired?  Shaky?”

“...just getting...cooled off,” Hook Possum muttered, but he didn’t move.  The lake water was pretty warm, too, and Steve considered it, wondering whether it was even helping.  

“Don’t be an asshole.  You need a shower, some water, and a nap,” he told the stubborn six-foot tall possum clinging to the dock, and it hissed like it was born in the woods.  

“...don’t need a nap,” Hook Possum growled, and Steve laughed.  

“Well, lie down, at least.  You’ve got heatstroke, dude.”

Hook Possum shook his head, so finally Steve jumped in the water next to him, put an arm around him, and pulled him towards shore.  

“What are you doing,” he mumbled, but when he tried to push away he almost fell, so Steve grabbed him tighter.  

“I told you,” Steve sighed.  Hook Possum was staggering, leaning heavily against Steve’s shoulder, and vibrating with tension.  “You’re gonna die in that thing.  You can’t do this all summer.”

“Fuck you,” Hook Possum muttered, tripping as soon as they hit dry ground.

“I’ve got you,” Steve told him, grimacing, because it was probably ungodly humid in the wet fur suit, and he was pretty sure Hook Possum hadn’t taken his mask off to drink any water.  The chatter and occasional yells from the food tent washed over them as Steve took him through camp to the showers.

As soon as they were inside, Hook Possum’s head jerked up.  “Oh fuck no,” he mumbled, pulling away, but Steve held on.  

“You need to get cleaned up and cooled off, and rest up,” he told the scary possum mask.  “Seriously.  You can’t mess with this shit.”

“‘M’fine,” Hook Possum slurred, and Steve shoved him around to untie the suit.  

“I won’t look, jesus, I promise, I’ll close my eyes, okay?  Just lemme help you get this off, and get in the damn shower.”

“...fuck you,” Hook Possum muttered, his shoulders wet and shivery against Steve’s hands.  

With his eyes closed, Steve couldn’t tell whether Hook Possum had the grayish pallor, but he grabbed the moron by the back of the neck and held a hand to his forehead, which was feverishly hot.  

“Get off me,” Hook Possum squeaked, staggering back, and Steve stepped back too, listening to the sounds of sodden fur paws stumbling around.  

“You need me to stay with you?” Steve asked, knowing what the answer would be, but also wary of leaving someone who’d obviously never had heat stroke before.

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter,” Hook Possum snarled, in a deeper register than usual, and it pinged Steve’s brain.  He frowned, standing there trying to think of anyone he knew who was awkward and grouchy but good with kids, and called him Harrington.  “Get out,” Hook Possum said, sounding exhausted.

“I’ll get you some water,” Steve told him.  “Gimme the Hook Possum stuff, I’ll wash it.”

“...it can go in the wash?”  Hook Possum asked, sounding aggrieved, and Steve snorted a laugh.  

“It can go in the washtub,” he said.  “I’ll throw it in and let it dry overnight.”

“Oh,” Hook Possum said weakly, then rallied.  “Thought you were holding out on me.  Secret washing machine in your bunk.  ‘Cause you’re the owner’s son.”

“Yep, just me and the washer, holding each other close,” Steve agreed, rolling his eyes under their lids.  

“You’re into some kinky shit, Harrington,” Hook Possum told him, and Steve felt the gross muddy Hook Possum costume shoved against his arms.  

“Eugh,” he sighed, gathering up the paws and hook.  “You know it.”

“That’s not gonna be dry by tomorrow, is it,” Hook Possum said, woodenly, and Steve wanted to shake him.  

“Look, I can write you an excuse.  Take a sick day.  You can’t get right back in this thing.  It’s fine.”

“...I’ll make it up,” Hook Possum said, in a rush, after a long pause.  “And I’ll find something I can do, so I’m not fucking everybody over wearing this thing—”

“Dude,” Steve sighed.  It felt weird not knowing the guy’s name, but equally weird calling him Hook Possum.  “Relax.  Take a chill pill.  Nobody’s on your ass about this.”  He turned to leave, but Hook Possum started talking again.

“...they make you do all the first aid, or what?” Hook Possum asked, and Steve snorted a laugh at his wariness.

“They teach us all basic first aid,” he said patiently.  “You sure you don’t want me to stay?  Because you sure don’t seem like you want me to leave.”

“Fuck you!” Hook Possum growled, again, rattling at the door of the shower stall like he’d stumbled into it.  

“I’m going, don’t make me explain to Max how you fell and broke your face after I left you in here,” Steve called, heading out, gross stinking wet fur suit in hand.  He dumped the whole thing—except the mask, which he thought might melt, even though it was tempting—into the big wash basin where the kids washed their own clothes, added a ton of soap, and poked it a few times to get the water through the fur.  He found some apples and grapes in the fridge, added some cheese and crackers, and got a plastic cup of water.  He sat it all in his bunk—in case Hook Possum just collapsed in his own—and grabbed the bathrobe he always brought just in case, and Hook Possum’s towel.  

When he knocked at the showers, Hook Possum was silent, so Steve leaned in.  It was dark, but the shower was still running.  “...you alive in there?” he called, and heard Hook Possum laugh.  

“Told you I was fine,” he muttered, burbling with the water hitting his face, and Steve went to lean against the stall door.  

“Oh, sorry, should I put you back in the suit and dump you in the lake?” he asked.  “Or just leave you here to get back to your bunk naked?”  

In the darkness, Hook Possum was just a vague shape, but Steve squinted, trying to make out a face, or something.  “Fuck you,” he said, laughing.  “The hell are you gonna do, carry me in your arms?”

“I could,” Steve told him, always ready for a challenge.  

“Oh, fuck you,” Hook Possum said, laughing harder, and Steve grinned, a little confused.  

“I am the first aid officer, actually,” he bragged, having put himself on the schedule earlier.  “You need me to sweep you across the threshold, I guess that’s what I gotta do.”  There was a muffled grunt and a splashing thud in the stall, and before Steve could think, he had kicked the bottom of the door and jiggled the latch so it popped open, the way he had a zillion times before, when kids crawled under locked stall doors as a prank.  He crouched next to the dark shape in the dim stall as Hook Possum scrambled back.  “You okay?”

“Jesus fuck,” Hook Possum panted in a high voice.  “What in the goddamn are you doing in here.”

“You fell, dipshit,” Steve told him, rolling his eyes.  “Are you okay?”

“Yes!  I am okay!” Hook Possum hissed, wedged in the corner.  “Get the hell out of my shower!”

“Jesus, sorry, didn’t know you were a blushing maiden possum,” Steve told him, holding out a hand to help the guy up, but Hook Possum just groaned into his hands, so Steve shrugged, and left.  The door slammed shut after him and latched.

“Go away,” Hook Possum growled, and Steve snickered.  

“I brought you a towel, and my robe,” he said, and Hook Possum sighed.  “And some water.”

“I’m fine, christ,” Hook Possum muttered.  

“And I got you some grapes and stuff,” Steve told him, halfway out the door.  “In the cabin.  Lot of water in grapes.”

“...I’m okay,” Hook Possum said, after a pause so quiet Steve was wondering if he’d passed out in there.  “Jesus.  I’m not one of your...second graders.”

“No, because then you wouldn’t’ve been wearing that thing, or going without water,” Steve said crisply.  “And I would carry you to your bunk, like a goddamn bride.”

Hook Possum choked on the shower water, somehow, coughing.  

“You’re getting off easy,” Steve told him, his vindication lessened by Hook Possum choking like he was about to die.

“Holy crap,” he panted.

“You’re welcome,” Steve told him.  “I guess.  I hung your gross fur bag out to dry where it’ll get sun.”

“...didn’t even get the full service,” Hook Possum muttered.  It sounded like he was still laughing, exhaustedly.

“What, you want the bridal carry?  Because I’ll do it,” Steve threatened, and Hook Possum said something muffled, like he had his face in his hands.  “I’ll just wait right here, ready to cradle you to my chest,” Steve told him, and Hook Possum groaned, laughing harder.  It was hard to stay mad at him, because he was kind of giggling, in the tired way kids did when they couldn’t stop.  

 He wandered back into the cabin as everybody was singing camp songs, to see a big bony foot sticking out from under the flag covering Hook Possum’s bunk.  It withdrew.

“You awake in there?” Steve asked, grinning.

“...no,” Hook Possum groaned.  “What are you doing here?”

“Brought you some more water,” Steve told him, and after a minute, Hook Possum said “...just set it on the floor.  I’ll drink it, I promise, jesus.”

Steve nodded, and wandered back to the fire. 

PART ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR

[recurring-polynya]

For the AU request, whichever one(s) you prefer (for RenRuki of course):

the X-Men universe

the Mafia/criminal underworld

the circus

as FBI agents (the X-Files world perhaps)

So, I got this ask, and I immediately wanted to go for X-Files, because I was hugely into X-Files when I was a tween/teen, and I think that my actual first published work of fanfic on the internet might actually be X-Files. (I didn’t even post it myself, I was like 12 and I didn’t have the internet at home, but a friend of mine posted it on Usenet for me, I have no idea whatever became of it). Anyway, I was going back and forth in my head who I wanted to be Mulder and who I wanted to be Scully, and then I got this ask:

@ulkoilla​ said:

I though the 10 would be full in about 1 microsecond so I didn’t even try :D This is maybe not AU enough for the purpose but I'd love to see your take on Bleach world where the shinigami work among humans as if they were in gigai -> they'll have to balance the supernatural, perhaps violent elements of their life with the modern day laws and such (like in Supernatural). Renji and Rukia have ofc gotten in trouble with the non-supernatural law (meet: Detective!Aizen?) and are on the run…

It suddenly occurred to me, What If: X-Files World, but Renruki are the cryptids. And it suddenly popped into my head exactly who I wanted to be Mulder. Anyway, I am sorry missrambler, if I messed it all up, I hope you like it anyway.

Also, I somehow thought that I would save myself some trouble by combining two prompts, but then it ended up… really long. (Forty! Eight! Hundred! Words! Go to Talks-Too-Much-Jail, Polynya!!)

PS: This takes place in D.C. because it’s X-Files and also because I am familiar with D.C. and I never get to write about places I know about. A half-smoke is a local delicacy that’s halfway between a hot dog and an Italian sausage. They are delicious.

Read on ao3 or ff.net

👻     👻     👻

Ichigo Kurosaki had known that an office with a view of the Smithsonian might be too much to ask, but he had not expected to take have to take two separate elevators down to sub-basement C, and walk past a storage room, two broom closets and a weird old vending machine full of brands of snacks he swore he hadn’t seen since he was a child.

Maybe Agent Inoue has a huge lab, he told himself. Maybe it needs to be 50 meters below ground because she collides large hadrons down here or so that her work can’t be picked up by spy satellites.

He had to turn sideways to get past a rack of wire shelves full of banker’s boxes, but there, on the other side was a door sporting a handwritten cardboard nameplate reading “Special Agent Orihime Inoue.”

“Come in!” a voice called inside, just as he raised his hand to knock on the door.

Ichigo blinked twice, and then went in.

The office was cluttered, mostly with more cardboard boxes, but books were also stacked precariously on top of boxes on top of books. The walls were plastered with maps and graphs and photographs of hazy blurs in front of staircases. There was a large poster showing a UFO, with the words “I WANT TO BELIEVE” in block caps below it.

A woman with long chestnut hair twisted up into a bun and held in place with three pencils was hunched over a metal box full of diodes and transistors and other things you would buy at Radio Shack. Or rather, that other people would buy at a Radio Shack. Ichigo had never set foot in a Radio Shack in his life.

“Er, good morning,” Ichigo said, as the woman looked up and blinked at him owlishly. “Agent Inoue? I’m Ichigo Kurosaki. I’ve been assigned to work with you.”

“To spy on me, you mean,” Agent Inoue corrected, cheerfully shaking his hand with great vigor.

Ichigo bristled. Yes, he had been directed to ‘provide additional documentation on Agent Inoue’s activities,’ but that hardly counted as spying. She was known to be somewhat scatterbrained, and having an organized person around would probably be a great benefit to her. “If you have any doubts about my qualifications or motivations--”

“Oh, don’t take it personally!” Inoue replied, slotting a lid onto her electronics project, and attacking it vigorously with a jeweler’s screwdriver. “Just because you’re a spy doesn’t mean you aren’t a nice person. Also, I read your file, you have a very interesting background! Degree in literature with a focus on folk legends. Teaching at the academy for the last few years while working on your book.” She took a momentary break from her screwing to fix him with her big, soft brown eyes. “Tell me, Agent Kurosaki, what do you think happens after you die?”

Ichigo froze. “I would be buried? Maybe there would be a funeral first?”

Inoue started laughing so hard that Ichigo was sure he caught a tiny, adorable snort. “Sorry, sorry! I wasn’t clear!” She sniffed, and wiped a tear from her eye. “Do you believe in continued existence after the death of the body? An afterlife, religion-based or otherwise? The existence of ectoplasm, cold spots, spirit photographs, EVP?”

“Are you talking about… ghosts?” Ichigo asked hesitantly.

“Yes!” Orihime replied with a nod. “Ghosts.”

“We-elll…” Ichigo drew out. “I believe that people believe they observe certain phenomena, as part of the cycle of grief and--”

“Just say ‘no’ if you don’t,” Inoue interrupted him.

“Er, no. I don’t.”

“That’s okay. Are you good at carrying heavy things?”

“Am I... I guess?”

“Perfect!” She shoved the box into his arms, and Ichigo’s knees almost buckled under the weight. “Let’s walk and talk, I want to go get a reading over near Franklin Square before 9 am. We’re gonna pass a really good half-smoke cart on the way, do you like half-smokes?”

  👻     👻     👻

“Take a look at this,” Inoue said, her cheek half stuffed with sausage, jabbing a finger at the LED read-out of her mysterious box.

It was rather hard for Ichigo to see, because he was holding the box and the readout was on the other side, but he did his best to crane his neck around. “What am I looking at? The squiggles? I’m sorry, it looks like nothing to me.”

“Exactly right!” Inoue announced, waving her half smoke in the air. “Not a sniff of spiritual residue!”

Ichigo pressed his lips together. “Um… is that good?”

“It is interesting,” Inoue corrected. “Five days ago, a sixty-four year old woman had a heart attack while sitting in that bus shelter.” On every day since, I have been able to record EMF fluctuations, and on Sunday, I was able to get a voice recording that sounded like a woman reciting a grocery list. But this morning, nothing! Nada!”

“Well, uh, ghosts gotta move on eventually, right? Otherwise, just about everywhere would be haunted, right?” It’s not that Ichigo had suddenly started believing ghosts or anything, but there was something about Agent Inoue that just made you want to go along with her and see where all this panned out.

Inoue shot him a finger gun. “Or, they get moved along.” She shoved a folded paper map at him. “You can put that thing down.”

Ichigo eased the Spirit Detect-O 9000, or whatever it was called, to the grass and accepted her map. It was a street map of DC, meant for tourists, emphasizing all the local transit routes and popular attractions. There was also a great loop marked on it in orange highlighter, zig-zagging back and forth through the city. There was a little ‘x’ marked on Franklin Park, with “Tuesday, early morning” written in a bubbly hand.

“What is this?” Ichigo frowned. It didn’t seem to match up with any of the metro or bus lines. It didn’t even match with the sidewalks, it appeared to cut straight through large buildings like the convention center.

“As far as I can tell,” Inoue said, her brown eyes very solemn, “that is the patrol route of our local grim reaper.”

  👻     👻     👻

“So I actually got interested in grim reapers,” Inoue explained, once they were back in the office, “while I was investigating violent ghost phenomena.” She was eating a bag of corn chips that she had gotten from that ancient vending machine by punching it and then shoving her own arm up the chute. (She’d gotten Ichigo a bag, too, but he was too afraid to eat them.)

Ichigo was sitting at a cluttered table that Inoue had told him “could be his desk.” Half of it was taken up by a large aquarium full of rocks and a water bowl, but no life forms that Ichigo could detect. The other half was covered with back issues of “Ghost Hunter Technology” magazine. “You mean like poltergeists?” he asked.

“Not exactly. Poltergeists are noisy, but they aren’t usually able to kill their targets.”

“Kill? Ghosts can’t kill people, aside from, like scaring them to death,” Ichigo scoffed. “I mean, folklorically speaking. As we established earlier, I am not a ghost-believer.”

Inoue tipped her head to the side. “They do, actually, it just tends to get blamed on something else.”

“By ghost-non-believers.”

“By everyone, really, and that’s what’s so strange.” Inoue pulled a fat binder from a stack of seemingly identical ones, and tossed it open in front of Ichigo. “Edison, New Jersey, 2014. An elderly woman dies ‘of a broken heart’ a week after her husband dies of cancer. Coincidentally, a telephone pole falls on her house the same night and rips a hole in her house.” She turned a page. “Norfolk, Virginia, 2017. A young woman dies in what the police rule as a suicide, despite the fact that she made a 911 call 48 hours previous, expressing fear of her ex-boyfriend. Three days later, the boyfriend is dead of mysterious causes. Coincidentally, his apartment complex suffered significant damages from ‘a wild cougar.’”

Ichigo squinted at the pictures. The walls of the building were scored with what did appear to be scratch marks. “Hell of a cougar.”

“Exactly! And I’ve got dozens of these historic cases. But about four months ago, I was able to investigate one myself-- a young man named Joe Wallace. He lives here in the city, over near Dupont Circle. Wallace had cut off his toxic dad years ago, and refused to visit him in the hospital as he was dying. Four days after his father’s death, a truck crashes into his house in the middle of the night and then drives away before the police can arrive.”

“And he died.”

“No!” Inoue held up one finger. “Scratches and bruises, but he doesn’t die!”

“Okay, great. So what does he remember?”

“He remembers a truck crashing into his house.”

Ichigo scratched his chin. “I am confused.”

“Look at this!” Inoue stabbed a finger at the pictures. “These are claw marks, not vehicular wreckage! There’s damage on the second story window! Wallace had scratches and defensive wounds, as if he had been fending off an animal! And look here, at the damage to the walls of the bedroom!”

“What am I looking at?” Ichigo asked, squinting at a photograph that looked like it had been blown up past the point of recognition.

“There were cuts and slashes in the walls and bedding as though someone had been fighting with a sword.”

“Like a Medieval Times sword? Was the guy a Medieval Times enthusiast?”

“More consistent with a katana. Do you like Medieval Times?”

“No one likes Medieval Times.”

“I like Medieval Times. You’ve probably never even been. But back to the ghost! Why would Wallace remember a truck crashing into his house, when nothing about the scene is consistent with that story?”

“He was...lying?”

“His memories were replaced.”

“His memories were replaced,” Ichigo echoed.

“Yes.”

“By… aliens?”

Orihime heaved a deep sigh. “By a grim reaper.”

“A grim reaper with a samurai sword.”

“How on earth did you come to this conclusion?”

Inoue raised one eyebrow. “Because when I placed him under hypnosis, Wallace didn’t remember anything about a truck. He did remember a monster with batwings and a mask made of bone and his dead father’s voice who tried to kill him, except that he was saved by a tall man dressed in black. The man had bright red hair and fought the monster with a sword that was also a whip and then he wiped Wallace’s memories.”

Ichigo stared at her. “You can hypnotize people?”

Inoue gave him a long-suffering face. Ichigo had the sudden flash that he was going to be seeing that face a lot in the days to come. “Yes, I am a certified hypnotist.” Inoue’s phone suddenly started playing “Tubular Bells”. “Oops, that’s an alarm. Come on, we have a meeting with some important people. Do you like diners?”

  👻     👻     👻

Agent Inoue apparently did not care for public transit, but she walked very quickly. Ichigo was concentrating so hard on keeping up with her that he nearly collided with her back when she stopped very suddenly.

“You don’t mind if we make a quick stop, do we?” Inoue asked.

“You said the meeting was with important people.”

“Oh, don’t worry about them!” Inoue pursed her lips. “You see that bodega right there?”

They were in a part of downtown that was mostly mid-to-upscale restaurants and government buildings and FedExes. But sure enough, there was a dingy little bodega nestled between a Mexican-Indian fusion place and an Au Bon Pain, the windows stuffed with t-shirts from the last administration and a variety of cell phone chargers. The overhead sign read “Urahara Shop.”

“Y...eah…” Ichigo replied.

“That place is a hotbed of supernatural activity.”

“Is it?” Ichigo asked.

“I am almost positive that it is a supply point and meeting place for grim reapers, monster slayers, cryptids, alien hunters, and lycanthropes, but the owner is on to me.”

“I see,” Ichigo said levelly.

“Can you go in and pretend to be a customer? They have lots of good candy you can look through. Inoue dug in her purse and came up with a fiver. “Here. Buy a scratch ticket or something.”

“I’m not buying a scratch ticket, they’re a scam.”

“If the big guy is working the counter, he’ll glare at you until you buy something, so be prepared.”

As Ichigo pushed open the door, he realized he’d never actually agreed to any of this. Agent Inoue’s secret hypnosis powers, once again. Whatever. It was a bodega, there were a thousand of them in DC. They all had the same Nats t-shirts and coffee mugs with pictures of the Washington Monument on them. Ichigo pretended to be interested in a rack of comics. He tended to prefer indy comics over the big publishers himself, but even so, he didn’t recognize any of the books. Maybe they were by local authors.

Up at the front of the shop, a tiny, dark-haired woman was giving whatfor to the man behind the counter, a tall fellow with pale, straw-colored hair sticking out in tufts from under the saddest hat Ichigo had ever seen, a shapeless, battered bucket, striped green and white.

“Well, I can sell you a new battery for your phone, Miss Kuchiki, maybe that would help.”

“Not if it only lasts as long as the last one you sold me! I really need to get in touch with my partner, except that even if I could get my phone working again, his battery is probably dead because everything you sell is the same crap!”

“Ah, that’s too bad! You know, I think Mr. Abarai was in here a few days ago… I wasn’t in at the time, but Jinta said he came in, asking about…”

The man trailed off, and Ichigo glanced up to see the shopkeeper looking directly at him.

“...metrocards. But as you know, we don’t sell metrocards anymore.”

The woman made an aggravated noise. “You’re so useless! If I write him a damned note, will you give it to him if he comes in?”

“Oh, of course! Anything for you, Miss Kuchiki!”

The conversation trailed off as the woman hunched over the counter to angrily scratch out a note.

Ichigo stuffed the comic he was flipping through back on its rack. He skipped the enormous display of bedazzled flip-flops and started perusing the surprisingly extensive selection of gum.

“Here!” the woman finished and shoved her note at the shopkeeper. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“Have a wonderful day!” the shopkeeper tootled, giving her a little finger wave.

Ichigo felt bad for the woman. “Er, excuse me?” he said as she passed.

She turned to scowl at him. For such a tiny person, she seemed to contain a remarkable amount of rage.

“Do you need to call someone? You can use my phone, if you’d like.” He held it out like an offering.

The woman blinked at him for a moment.

“I didn’t mean to be nosy! You were just kind of loud and you sounded worried about your, um, partner.”

“I’m not worried about him, I just need to find him.” Her face softened. “Thanks, Mister, but I can’t reach him on a regular phone. Don’t worry, I’ll track him down eventually.” She turned to leave, then stopped to jab an accusatory finger at Ichigo. “And that’s professional partner, not… you know! Whatever!” She stomped out.

What a strange, tiny person.

Ichigo selected a gum and walked up to the counter.

“Oooh, dragonberry lime, good choice!” the man trilled. “Anything else I can get you? Bottled water? Fanny pack? Spare phone battery?”

“I’ll pass,” Ichigo replied dryly.

“I imagine it’s against FBI policy to let a stranger use your cell phone,” the shopkeeper said sweetly.

Ichigo’s brows furrowed. “This is my personal phone. And how did you…?”

The man gave a chortling laugh that sent shivers down Ichigo’s spine. “Because headquarters is three blocks away and only an FBI agent would wear a suit that square.”

Ichigo took his change and his gum and shoved them both in his pocket. “Yeah, well, your hat sucks.”

The man laughed harder. “Doesn’t it, though?”

Once he was outside again, Ichigo handed Inoue the gum and her change. “The owner of that place is a creep.”

“The guy in the green and white hat?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s Urahara. You’re right, he’s the owner. Were there any other customers?”

“Just the short lady. You must have seen her come out. She was ripping Urahara a new one for some dodgy cell phone battery he sold her. I think she must have been NSA or something. She said she was trying to get ahold of her partner, but she needed a special phone.” As he said it, Ichigo realized it would be pretty odd for an NSA agent to be buying cell phone batteries from some shady bodega.

“No one came out,” Inoue replied.

“She definitely did! I heard the bell over the door ring.”

Inoue regarded Ichigo very seriously. “Agent Kurosaki. I was standing here the whole time. You were the only person who went in or out.” She looked at the gum. “Ooh! Dragonfruit lime! Do you want some?”

  👻     👻     👻

They were late to the meeting.

Two men were waiting for them in the back corner booth. One of them had pinched, pointy features and piercing blue eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. His chin-length haircut was pretty dramatic, but not as dramatic as his pure white trench coat. A cup of black coffee sat on the faded Formica table in front of him, but it didn’t look like it had been touched.

His companion was an enormous, good-looking Latino who was shoveling pancakes into his face.

“Inoue,” the dramatic guy said. “Who’s this?”

“This is my new partner, Kurosaki,” Inoue replied. “Kurosaki, this is Uryuu Ishida,” she indicated the white trenchcoat guy, “and Chad,” Mr. Pancakes.

“Also known as the ‘Lone Archers,’” Ishida specified. “We are apolitical actors who are interested in revealing the truths that are regularly hidden from the general populace by secret forces that conspire within the machinery of the American government.”

“You can just call me Chad,” said Chad.

“Good morning!” the waitress said. “Can I get you folks anything?”

“Oh, yes! I’m getting mozzarella sticks! Do you like mozzarella sticks, Kurosaki? They’re so good here!”

“So’re the pancakes,” added Chad.

“I’ll just have a coffee,” Ichigo announced. He glanced at Ishida’s cup. “Black.”

“Double mozzarella sticks, please!” Inoue chorused. “And a cherry coke!” She leaned over to Ichigo and spoke out of the side of her mouth. “I’ll give you a mozzarella stick.”

“Do you want some pancake?” Chad offered to Ishida. “I never think to offer.”

Ishida waved him off with a hand. “Agent Inoue. At great personal peril, I was able to obtain a sample of the item we discussed.” He slid a small paper packet across the table. “There are two tablets inside, but one should be sufficient for your purposes.” Ishida leaned forward, his mouth set in a firm line. “I was cautioned very strongly against using this, unless one had a firm plan for handling the… consequences.”

“I understand,” Inoue replied, stuffing the envelope into her purse.

Ichigo wanted to ask more questions, but the conversation shifted very quickly to some USGS floodplain maps that Ishida wanted Inoue to obtain for him that were apparently not available from the public webportals, allegedly because of filesize. Ichigo could practically hear the air quotes around the word “filesize.”

“We’re going to look for Jersey Devils next weekend,” Chad explained, sounding pretty excited about it.

“There’s only one, Chad,” Ishida corrected. “It’s just ‘Jersey Devil.’”

“There could be more than one,” Chad shrugged.

Thirty minutes later, they departed. Inoue had an order of mozzarella sticks in her purse. Ichigo had an armload of backissues of the Lone Archers’ ‘zine, which was, conveniently enough, titled The Lone Archer. There was no doubt in his mind that at least Ishida was completely off his rocker. The jury was still out on Chad… he struck Ichigo as the sort of guy who just went along with Ishida’s nonsense because he was a good friend and also liked taking camping trips and doing layout for ‘zines.

“So what was that thing they gave you?” Ichigo pestered. The idea of that little paper packet had been burning a hole in his brain the entire time.

“You busy tonight?” Inoue asked, raising an eyebrow slyly. “Between 10 and 11?”

“What are we doing?” Ichigo asked cautiously, wondering if he would be able to charge his time.

“We’re going to try and attract an angry ghost.”

  👻     👻     👻

“Are you… sure this is… a good idea?” Ichigo asked for the sixteenth time, as Inoue focused the thermal camera on him.

They were in an old, abandoned lot that had formerly served as a Metro service facility. It was pretty spooky all on its own, filled with train cars too dilapidated for salvage.

It was 10:25pm. Inoue had set up no less than 17 different pieces of ghost detection equipment. Ichigo was questioning his life choices.

“You told me you don’t believe in ghosts. If ghosts don’t exist, then what could possibly go wrong?” Inoue posed.

“Well… that’s true,” Ichigo granted. “And, for the record, I still do not believe in ghosts. But in the Pascal’s wager sense of things, I am considering the ramifications of what happens if there are ghosts that exist, regardless of my belief in them.”

“And?” Inoue asked.

“Well, you said that these ghosts have hurt and killed people before. It seems like trying to attract one without having any method of, um, fighting it, seems kind of… irresponsible?”

“Ah, but you see, I’ve specifically picked this time and location to coincide with the grim reaper patrol routes I’ve been mapping out. Our friendly neighborhood psychopomp ought to show up just on schedule to fight the angry ghost for us. We’re doing them a favor, as I see it.”

“How so?” Ichigo exclaimed.

“It’s not like we’re creating an angry ghost out of nowhere. We’re just attracting an existing one to our location. We’re saving the grim reaper the trouble of having to hunt it down.”

Ichigo pinched the bridge of his nose. Why was it so difficult to argue with Inoue? Possibly because she was so incredibly earnest in all her beliefs, and all her arguments were in completely good faith, it’s just that her logic came from some other dimension. This woman has solved multiple, high-profile murders, including several that were ice cold, Ichigo reminded himself. So she’s quirky. I am sure I can learn a lot from her.

“Okay, everything is in place!” Inoue announced, placing her hand on her hips. “Go hide behind that pile of moldy seats!”

Inoue took Ichigo’s place at the center of her recording equipment. “Agent Orihime Inoue speaking,” she said, for posterity. “It is 10:28pm. I am crushing one tablet of a substance called ‘Hollow Bait.’” She crunched the little white tablet, which looked an awful lot like an Alka-Seltzer, between her fingers, and then made a flying leap for the rotting pile of damp, orange upholstery that Ichigo was crouched behind.

“So, just out of curiosity,” Ichigo started. “How long would we have to wait, theoretically, with nothing happening, before we would declare this a bust?”

Inoue pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Usually, I would give it about two hours, but if you’ve got somewhere to be, I don’t mind if you leave early. It is nice to have company for a change.”

“No, I don’t have anywhere else to be,” Ichigo replied. “I mean… sleeping, I guess.”

Inoue gave a charming little laugh. “I don’t sleep very well. And hunting for ghosts is more interesting than most of the stuff on Hulu.”

The way that she said it gave Ichigo the distinct impression that Inoue was, well, lonely. But that didn’t seem correct. She was weird, sure, but she was also friendly and talkative, and, er, well, she was extremely cute. Surely she had tons of friends.

“How’d you get into ghost hunting, anyway?” he tried to be conversational.

“Hmm,” Inoue hummed noncommittally. “Let’s just say there was an incident in my teen years, where my memories don’t match up to the property damage.”

Oh. Ichigo wondered if he should apologize, when suddenly, a cold chill ran down his spine and a sound like a roar echoed in his ears, except he didn’t actually hear anything. “Did you hear that?” he gasped.

“It’s the EMF detector,” Inoue nodded, scrambling for the reader and Ichigo realized he could hear a faint beeping.

“No, not the beeping, it was like a… a… scream…”

“You heard a scream?”

“I didn’t exactly…” Ichigo trailed off as he heard two more, coming from different directions. “There’s more than one. Monster screams. Not human screams.”

Inoue stared at him, eyes wide. “I don’t hear anything. Have you ever been tested for latent psychic ability?”

There was a sudden change in the air pressure, and a fetid, rotting smell, even worse than the Metro seats. Ichigo grabbed Inoue by the shoulders and rolled out of the way, just as the pile of junk they had been crouched behind compacted like it had been through a car crusher. Or smashed by a giant foot.

“Whoa!” Inoue exclaimed, trying to push Ichigo off of her so she could see what was going on.

Ichigo blinked through the night. He couldn’t see anything, but there was an area of space that looked thick and hazy, like it wasn’t refracting the harsh glow of the sodium street lights quite correctly.

“We have to get out of here,” Ichigo gasped.

“Can you see it?” Inoue asked, her eyes wide and excited.

“Not-- not really,” Ichigo replied, pulling at her arm. The air blurred, and Ichigo had the sense the thing was jumping at them. He could tell it was fast, but he couldn’t see it, he didn’t know what to--

“Howl, Zabimaru!”

It was both there and not quite there, a liquid blade made of glass and starlight, that snapped through the air at the invisible thing. The monster bellowed, and whipped around, charging at a dark figure standing atop one of the old Metro cars.

“Pick on someone your own size, ugly!” the man bellowed, and as Ichigo squinted, he realized that their savior was dressed all in black. He was tall, and his hair was pulled back in a spiky ponytail. It was bright red. He was also wearing sunglasses, even though it was the middle of the night. They were pushed up on top of his head, to be fair, but Ichigo had a feeling this detail would stick with him.

“You can see that guy, right?” Ichigo asked Inoue desperately. “The guy who’s fighting the ghost? The guy that looks just like the guy in your report?”

“There’s a guy?” Inoue asked. “No. Where is he? Can you usually see ghosts?”

“I don’t even believe in ghosts!”

“Well, maybe you don’t believe in them because you can see them and you don’t want to, did you ever think of that?”

“I don’t think now is the time to interrogate my personal traumas!”

Suddenly, there was another drop in pressure, and Ichigo had the sense of heavy breathing and sharp teeth. “Inoue. I think there’s another one.”

“Well, can you get the guy to come fight this one, too?”

“He seems busy,” Ichigo squeaked.

Something black flashed by his vision, and there was a loud crack and a sound of something screeching in pain. A second dark-clad person had arrived, landing softly on sandaled feet. There was the same unreality to her, a sense that she wasn’t entirely there, as well as a certain familiarity that Ichigo couldn’t place. Her sword was bright in the darkness, like moonlight reflecting on snow.

“Oi, there you are, you big dummy!” she shouted at the first man and Ichigo realized with a jolt that it was the angry woman from the bodega. “I’ve been looking for you for four days!”

“I had a problem with my gigai and maybe you should check your texts once in a while!” the tall guy shouted back. Ichigo refused to think of him as a grim reaper. A grim reaper would not wear sunglasses.

“My phone died!”

“Can we-- ow! -- discuss this later? I’m glad you’re okay, I missed you. Why are there so many Hollows in this train yard?”

“You’re such a sap! And the Hollows are here because some stupid humans got ahold of some Hollow bait.” The woman turned, and glared at Ichigo. Her eyes burned with blue flame, like the burner of a gas stove.

That would have been the last thing Ichigo remembered, if he had actually remembered it, or any of the things that came before it.

  👻     👻     👻

Ichigo was sitting at his desk.

Inoue was sitting at her desk.

The sun was streaming in the window. The clock on Ichigo’s phone read 7:12am.

Inoue frowned. She examined a coffee cup on her desk. She took a hesitant sip, and then made a face. “Why are we here?” she wondered softly.

“I hate to pull an all-nighter,” Ichigo said, stretching, “but it sure does feel good to be caught up on paperwork!”

Inoue regarded him. “Kurosaki,” she said, “how long have you worked here?”

Ichigo frowned. “Well, I guess this is my second day.”

“Right. So… how much paperwork did you have to catch up on?”

Ichigo blinked. He very distinctively recalled working through the night-- his hand cramping, the incredibly spicy Thai food they’d ordered, Inoue’s seemingly infinite Boy Bands of the 90’s playlist. “I… was helping you, I guess?” Come to think of it, why was he filling out paperwork by hand, anyway? His laptop sat next to him, the lid closed. It wasn’t even plugged in.

Inoue’s fist slammed down onto her desk. “Gosh darnit! They wiped my memories again!!”

[beavercovehq]

HANNA KATE RILEY was born on the 2ND OF MAY in the year 1993. They work as an ENVIRONMENTAL BIOLOGIST. HANNA’s pronouns are SHE/HER. fc: benedetta gargari { played by sam, 23, she/her, aest }

HEADCANONS

Hanna went vegetarian at 12 and vegan at 17. She’s been vegan for the last ten years only making exceptions for honey every so often and the occasional semi-disastrous mix up with cheese.

Her uncle is an avid conspiracy theorist, and while Hanna doesn’t subscribe to it as much as he does, she does give into a good conspiracy or cryptid very easily. She has a collection of Mothman Festival shirts from her uncle from over the years that make up a significant portion of her wardrobe (when she’s off work, of course).

As easily guessed by her career choice, Hanna is a big environmentalist. Besides her career the way she expresses that love for the planet the most is through her collection of plants. Both her home and her office are littered with them and she cares for them all very deeply. Not all have names but the ones that have been with her for a long time do (Darryl the Devil’s Ivy, Galina the Monstera, and Spike the Hedgehog Aloe just to name a few), she loves buying new plants but tries to limit herself for the sake of her coworkers and her live-in girlfriend.

She cannot drive, or at the very least she can’t drive well. Her guardians insisted she learn when she was 16 as a life skill she would likely need but she has avoided it as much as possible since she passed her test. She relies mainly on her bike, public transport, and if nothing else rides from those around her or ride share apps. She hasn’t been behind the wheel herself in at least 4 years.

A textbook old soul. She loves reading, puzzles, she can crochet she wants to get better at it. She doesn’t like social media, doesn’t understand it, only really has it for communication reasons and prefers calling over texting when she can’t meet face to face with someone.

Was your character born and raised here? If so- why haven’t they left town? If not- what brought them to town?

Hanna was not, she was born and raised in the small Wisconsin town of Cedarburg. She moved to Beaver Cove because of a job opportunity. A part of a research team monitoring natural ecosystems in the local area under the effects of climate change and various pollutions but also conducting impact reports and assessments.  Very fancy way of saying she collects samples and records their data. Before Beaver Cove she studied her masters in Environmental Science at the University of Toronto, following that by working as a part of an analyst team for environmental impacts on different developments. The offer in Nova Scotia was by scale a lot smaller but it was a lot more hands on and completely rounded, not just looking at numbers and reports day in and day out which was exactly the change Hanna wanted.

How does your character feel about the drownings? Do they think it’s accidental thing or a conspiracy? Please explain position.

She can’t help but lean a little more on the side of conspiracy. She has a suspicious mind and finds it hard to believe that it’s all purely coincidental. She thinks it’s tragic of course, and maybe the drownings themselves are accidental, but she thinks something more going on. However, while she is still relatively new in town, and her partner is part of the team investigating, she doesn’t want to stick her nose in and get them in trouble.

What is your character’s favourite thing or place about or around town? And why?

It may be obvious at this point but Hanna’s love lies in the environment. She loves spending time by the sea, whether it be the docks or out by the lighthouse, as well is wandering the different trails around town. On top of that, she’s a big, big sucker for the library. She loves libraries, loves books, and is always charmed by a well worn book under the yellow light of an old library light. Beyond that, she’s still new, she’s still figuring out the places she likes. Largely she prefers to prepare her own meals and not eat out too much but being in a new place there is a certain fun in discovering new places to eat, new things to do, and new places that will become regulars. Overall, if you look past the drownings (a horrible thing to say, i know), Hanna is incredibly charmed by Beaver Cove as a whole.

What was your character’s childhood like? Are they close with their family? Are they estranged? Do they have siblings? Are they adopted? Do they have a found family? Tell us about who they call family

Hanna’s family is complicated. She keeps it rather private as it’s just easier that way than explaining it. She’s an only child, and she was raised mostly by her paternal grandparents. When Hanna was too young to remember, her mother left her father, and also her. She still doesn’t know exactly what happened only that her father took it pretty hard. To help out, his parents largely took on the task of raising Hanna. They became her guardians and the people Hanna always thought of as her parents. As she’s gotten older she’s come to understand more about why that had to happen, but in truth there’s still a lot about her family that she doesn’t know and she doesn’t want to ask. She loves them, she’s very grateful for the life she’s had because of them, but in truth it wasn’t hard for her to leave for college and then move to Canda to chase her dream career. She has kept a lot of things from her family over the years and she is rather sentimental about them, but she wouldn’t go back unless she had to. She’s glad to be out of her home town and she is glad to have some significant distance between herself and her family. She considers her girlfriend a part of her family, or her found family, but not many others have maintained that level with Hanna. She’s not an easy person to get close to.

What is the first thing someone notices about your character?

Her resting bitch face. Maybe once she was as judgemental as she sometimes looks but she’s not anymore. She’s trying to unlearn the habit, and slowly it is getting there, her expressions are becoming softer, but seeing as it was a defence tactic as a teenager against bullies or anyone else in small town Wisconsin that might call her a stick in the mud its taking some time. And, you know, it’s still sort of handy when you don’t want anyone to speak to you on a bus.

[mythicallore]

Creature Feature: Igopogo

This long necked, dorsal finned, canine-featured critter is one of the most unusual lake beasts reputed to dwell in North America.

Located in Southern Ontario — just 40-miles north of Toronto — Lake Simcoe is the fourth-largest lake in the province and a remnant of the colossal, prehistoric freshwater sea known as Lake Algonquin. Algonquin’s basin also included Lake Huron, Lake Michigan, Lake Superior, Lake Nipigon and Lake Nipissing. When the ice dam melted at the end of the last ice age it dramatically reduced water levels in the region, leaving behind the lakes we see today.

In the 17th century the lake was known by the Huron natives as “Ouentironk” or “Beautiful Water.” In 1687, the Lahontan people changed it to Lake Taronto, an Iroquoian term meaning gateway or pass. Finally, in 1793, by John Graves Simcoe — the first Lieutenant-Governor of Upper Canada — renamed the lake in memory of his father, Captain John Simcoe.

This relatively small, island riddled, oval shaped body of water, which is approximately 20-miles long and 16-miles wide, is known for its clean water, fantastic fishing and, most notably, the bizarre beast that’s said to lurk within its gloomy, freshwater depths.

This unusual animal was dubbed Igopogo — no doubt, in honor of her famous cousins OGOPOGO of Lake Okanagan and MANIPOGO of Lake Manitoba — by the local fishermen.

That having been stated, there seems to be a bit of a rivalry over the beast’s appellation as, depending on whether or not you hail from Kempenfelt Bay or Beaverton, the monster’s has a few alternate nom de plumes, including “Kempenfelt Kelly,” “Beaverton Bessie” — which is, in and of itself, an homage to Lake Erie’s more notorious BESSIE — and even “Simcoe Kelly.”

It was even suggested by George M. Eberhart in his book “Mysterious Creatures: A Guide to Cryptozoology” that its most famous name, “Igopogo,” comes from Walt Kelly’s seminal comic strip “Pogo,” which featured a cadre of memorable swamp critters, including one who ran a mock presidential campaign utilizing the slogan: “I GO POGO.”

Considered by many cryptozoologists to be unique, even amongst her amazing peers, Igopogo is a rarely seen beast, which has been described as having a neck which resembles a “stove-pipe,” crowned by an unusual canine-like head.

This ostensibly mammalian description — which, it must be admitted, has in no way remained consistent throughout the many years of Igopogo sightings — has led some to speculate that this creature may biologically akin to AQUATIC ENIGMAS such as the notorious “Irish crocodile” the DOBHAR-CHU or even the Australian BUNYIP.

While tales of this cryptid go as far back as aboriginal legends and accounts from the earliest Europeans to settle the area, the first modern report hails from July 22, 1963.

The eyewitnesses involved with this sighting, including one Reverend  L.B. Williams, claimed that they saw not a typically mammalian, but a serpentine creature — not unlike Newfoundland’s eel-like CRESSIE — with multiple dorsal fins, that was anywhere from 30 to 70-feet in length, undulating in the water. It was also described as having a “charcoal covered” epidermis

This creature was allegedly captured on film while two, uncharacteristically calm, children watch from the shore. While there is no written account of when or by whom the obviously aged, black and white image was snapped, it remains an intriguing — if somewhat controversial — piece of potential photographic evidence of Igopogo’s existence.

Over two decades later, on June 13, 1983, William Skrypetz — a sonar operator with Lefroy’s Government Dock and Marina — took sonar reading which revealed a creature with a massive body and long tapering neck that seemed to look very much like the archetypal LAKE MONSTERS such as CHAMP or the LOCH NESS MONSTER.

During the 1980’s — author, cryptozoologist and president of the BCSCC (British Colombia Scientific Cryptozoology Club) — JOHN KIRK III, investigated this phenomenon and came to the conclusion that whatever might have lived in the lake had either migrated or had become deceased.

Kirk’s assessment of the situation was not without merit, as the sightings of this animal — with the notable exception of Skrypetz sonar hit — had dwindled to virtually nothing since the 1970’s. Kirk’s opinion of this creature’s status changed in 1991, however, when he was given a copy of a videotape by former British army officer and fellow cryptozoologist, Don Hepworth.

The video — which was purportedly shot from the shores of Lake Simcoe during that same year — apparently shows a terrifying lake demon rearing its head during a hydroplane race.

According to the unnamed videographer’s account, one of the racers her knew suffered a mechanical breakdown while on the south end of the lake and was forced to halt and make repairs. Just as the racer lifted the engine hatch in order to assess the damage, a large animal suddenly surfaced directly in front of him, stunning the racer as well as the spectators on the shoreline.

The landlocked crowd began to panic, fearing the worst for the downed competitor. The racer himself would later claim that this possibly prehistoric apparition would continue to stare at him it slowly lowered its head, finally submerging completely beneath the water.

Apparently, Kirk — upon repeated viewing of the controversial footage — confirmed that this creature was 9 and 12 feet long and had mammalia or, what he believed to be, pinniped (seal- or sea lion-like) features. Unfortunately the quality of the video and proximity of the creature to the camera did not allow for a more thorough investigation of its species.

This video evidence — which is infamously difficult to find — has raised the profile of this creature considerably, yet skeptics continue to insist that what people are seeing is nothing more than normal seals who have slipped into the lake via the rivers that connect it to Lake Huron. Still others think it may be related to the now famous Pacific Ocean dwelling SEA MONSTERS known as CADBOROSAURUS.

While the “seal” theory may debunk some of the unusual sightings, it in no way explains away the strange sonar hit reported in 1983. Even now, a decade into the 21st century, Lake Simcoe remains one of the most under explored cryptid habitats remaining in North America.

[leviathans-watching]

Klancetober 2019

October 11 / 12: Cryptid

From @monthlyklance‘s prompt list

“Lance, let’s go!” Pidge called impatiently, arms crossed over their chest.

“Coming, coming.” Lance grumbled, hopping out of the truck. Pidge was already unloading equipment from the back, lining it up on the ground.

They were going hunting in an abandoned asylum, one on the outskirts of town. To be honest, Lance was a little nervous. Creepy places weren’t his thing, he much more enjoyed tracking in the woods or in the city. 

But, he was Pidge’s partner, and there were stories of a local cryptid. Since that’s what they hunted, he went along.

The place looked dark and gloomy, even in the autumn sun. it seemed to have a dark and foreboding aura to it, and that was something Lance didn’t like. 

Pidge hefted their bad, as did Lance, and they stared up at the crumbling stone building. It hadn’t been used in almost a century, when a huge patient riot caused it to shut down. 

The stories say that there’s some half snake creature who took shelter there, having come down from the mountains. Enough coverage, and boom, they were there.

Lance turned on the camcorder, and they were off.

Stepping through the crumbling doorway, Lance peered around. Graffiti and trash covered the room, so Pidge forged onward, into a darker hallway. Clicking on their flashlight, they shined it around, making sure to illuminate every nook and corner.

Lance trailed behind, camera trained on Pidge, who was giving a play-by-play of what they were doing in a hushed voice.

As they came to a door, Pidge tried to open it, but they couldn’t. Lance handed them the camera, then shouldered into, stumbling when it finally gave way with a sickening crunch. He took the camera back, and they went into the hallway.

By the looks of it, the door hadn’t been opened in many years. A thick layer of dust covered the rough concrete, and Lance felt a little queasy as he saw what looked to be a blood stain on the wall. Pidge continued on, throwing Lance a look.

Lance trailed behind slowly, examining their surroundings. He stopped when he noticed a glint, something reflecting as Pidge briefly passed their flashlight over it. Calling Pidge over, he kneeled beside it, taking a closer look.

“What is it?” Pidge asked, squinting. 

Lance picked it up, realizing it was a knife of some sort, one that actually looked rarely new. It seemed to be well worn, like to owner obviously loved it. He held it under the camera, turning it in his hands.

“This is a cool knife,” Lance remarked, and Pidge nodded.

“Yeah, I wonder-” They stopped speaking as a clatter came from another hallway, a small one off to the side. 

Lance tucked the knife into his waistband before following Pidge with an excited look. They crept down the hall, turning off their flashlights as it opened into another, bigger room. It looked like it used to be a cafeteria of some sort, if the tables were any indication.

Dim sunlight streamed through broken windows that lined the wall right under the ceiling, making it so they could see the outlines and shadows of things. 

Panning the camera around the large space, Lance strained his ears. “Where do you think it came from?” He whispered and Pidge shook their head.

“No idea. Let’s see if we hear anything else.”

Hanging back in the hallway, they waited. Soon enough, another sound rang through the silent structure. It was clearly audible to even the camera’s microphone, and Lance couldn’t stop the shiver that rolled down his body.

Pidge pointed to the other side of the room, towards the kitchen, and Lance hugged the wall as he made his way towards it, gingerly picking his way around wreckage. Behind him, Pidge stumbled on a piece of wood, making a loud clatter. 

They froze, waiting. Nothing but silence.

Lance finally made it to the doorway of the kitchen, and waited outside of it. He could hear a slight rustling coming from the other side, and felt his heart in his chest.

Pidge took the camera, and motioned for Lance to go. He grit his teeth, and jumped around it, straight into a warm figure.

“Shit!” He yelled, falling to the ground. Rubbing his butt, he looked up, only to meet eyes with another guy. 

Somewhere behind him, Pidge laughed in disbelief. “Wait, aren’t you the guys who run that other blog?” 

Lance stood, taking a step back. 

One of the two men nodded. “Yeah, we run the Mamora Blades. We specialize in cryptids.” Lance took his hand uncertainly, noting it was a prosthetic. “I’m Shiro,” He gestured to the other guy, who was frowning at Lance. “And this is Keith. You guys really shouldn’t be here. It’s dangerous.”

Lance scratched his head. “Wait, you’re the Takashi Shirogane. Nice to finally meet you. And Keith Kogane, in the flesh. It’s an honor.”

Keith pursed his lips. “And you are?” 

At his words, Pidge shouldered up by Lance, a bit defensively. “I’m Pidge, and this is Lance. We run the Voltron Hunting Vlog.”

Keith rolled his eyes, and Shiro nudged him. “Oh, yeah, you guys did the work up on Mt. Talmore right? With the manticore? Good work, by the way.” 

Pidge softened, and Lance smiled weakly. “Yeah, that’s us.”

He tool the camera from Pidge and turned it off, a bit disappointed. 

“You know we thought you were a creature or something,” Pidge confessed with a small chuckle.

“We actually thought the same thing.” Shiro laughed, and the sound was pure. To be honest, Lance was a bit starstruck.

“Oh,” Lance exclaimed. “Is this either of yours?” He pulled out the knife, holding it up.

Keith patted his side. “Yes, that’s mine. Thank you, it must have fell and I didn’t notice. It would’ve sucked to lose that.”

He reached to grab it, and in the second that their fingers touched, Lance felt energy course through hi, a spark that would turn into a raging inferno. Keith’s eyes bore into him, and Lance knew, instinctively, that he felt it too.

Keith ripped the knife away, tucking it into his sheith. He coughed, uncomfortably, but Lance wasn’t going to let him get away with it. 

As Shiro led to them to the way they went in, Lance sidled up to Keith. 

“What was that?” Keith demanded, eyes flashing.

Lance shrugged. “I dunno. Remember that one movie, Hotel Trasylvania? Maybe it was like that.” Keith glared at him. “A zing?” 

“Maybe,” Lance smiled. “I wouldn’t really mind if it was, although it’s doubtful.”

Keith flicked his hair out of his face. “Say, what if when we got out of here, we figure it out? With coffee, or something?”

Lance thought he was spazzing out. “Wait, seriously?” 

Keith shifted to move around some debris. “Maybe.”

“Sure,” Lance smiled, and Keith nodded awkwardly.

“Cool.”

<Um, I didn’t really like the ending on this one either, the ending was sub-par, I just had no idea how to ho about this one tbh>

[ottobooty]

I’m absolutely late to this tag meme @ifridiot​ tagged me in. Rules are answering 21 questions and tag 21 people. (why,,,,21,,,,)

1. nickname(s): Toot, Tooter, Otter, Otters 2. zodiac: Leo sun, Pisces moon, Libra rising. Eastern is Wood Dog. 3. height: 5′0 4. mbti: xNFP (Swaps between I and E) 5. last think you googled: “Emperor’s Barge Destiny 2″ 6. favorite musicians: Ghost, Mother Mother, AmaLee, Jeff Williams and Casey Williams, Johnny Cash, OK GO. 7. song stuck in my head: Fucking Christmas music because the dining room where I work keeps PLAYING IT. 8. following:  250 9. followers: I don’t know, I have a couple of Ghost Followers, so the count is likely not how many I actually have. 10. do you get asks: sometimes... 11. amount of sleep: Dude, it’s all over the place. 12. current outfit: Green t-shirt with hibicus flowers and the Grim Reaper in the center of it. 13. dream job: Forensic Autopsy Technician or Marine Biologist.  14. dream trip(s): Canada? Anywhere where my friends are? 15. instruments played: Used to play the Oboe (badly). 16. languages spoken: Just english. 17. favorite songs as of now: I have too many to actually put here. 18. if you were an animal: Crow.

19. favorite food: I really don’t know. I like most, if not all foods and I’m up to trying anything once.  20. random fact: I can unwrap a starburst from the wax paper because I watched that one ad for Starbursts way back where a girl unwraps the paper and makes origami and decided I’d do it.  21. my aesthetic: Local Cryptid who enjoys Halloween far too much and retro decor. 

I’m so unwilling to tag anyone because that’s too many people,,,,,so whomever wants to do it,,,

[ratscabies]

tag game

thank you @claudyn for tagging me!! 💖

1. nicknames

Katie, Kate, a few nicknames based off of my last name too

2. zodiac sign

gemini (it’s gemini season!!! rock n roll, buckaroo!!!!!!)

3. height

5′7″-ish

4. hogwarts house

Ravenclaw, I guess?? I feel less Ravenclaw now than I did when I was younger, but I don’t feel like I fit anywhere else and I still usually get Ravenclaw as my result when I take any type of sorting quiz online lol

5. last thing I googled

lower calorie birthday cake alternatives (since my bday is this weekend but I’m trying to be good and not let a bday binge derail my weight loss)

6. fave musicians

my favorite bands are like The Clash, The Undertones, The Birthday Party, Einstuerzende Neubauten, and The Damned

7. song stuck in my head

I saw The Damned on Friday and so I’ve had a lot of their songs in my head since then, but particularly Plan 9 Channel 7

8. following

ope like 543 ppl but a lot of them are inactive and I’m too lazy to go through and unfollow

9. followers

1,652 but honestly I’ve had this blog for like nine years now so a chunk of them are inactive or porn bots lol

10. do you get asks

very rarely tbh

11. amount of sleep

either an excessive amount of sleep or no sleep at all!! nothing in between!!

12. lucky number

77 bc I’m very cool and edgy and punk

13. what are you wearing

a black dress with like a scoopy neckline and a layer of black lace over the skirt

14. dream job

billionaire trophy wife is ideal, but in case that doesn’t pan out for me, I’m also looking into becoming a swamp witch or local cryptid

(actually tho I think I’m going to go back to school soon to become a speech-language pathologist)

15. dream trip

I’d like to go to New Orleans for the first time or maybe go back to Ireland

16. instruments

despite all of the instruments I own, I can’t play shit and never followed through learning any of them lmao

17. languages

English is my native language

I studied German language and literature in uni and have a degree in it

I took four years of French in high school but haven’t touched the language since 2013, but my reading comprehension is still passable enough

and I’m currently self-studying American Sign Language with a bunch of internet and book resources, but I hope to take actual classes in the near future

and actually I just have a bunch of languages that I’d like to study in the future - I studied linguistics in uni (along with German) and so I just luv languages and figuring out how they work in general

18. fave song

oof this is too hard for me to answer, I don’t really have set favorites when it comes to songs

19. random fact

I’m actually pretty decent at some creative stuff like drawing and embroidery, and I go through periods where I get heavily involved in stuff like that, but then I just lose all interest and never finish any of these creative projects bc I’m the actual worst lol

20. aesthetics

bold eyeshadow with heavy eyeliner and mascara, matte liquid lipstick in nudes and dusty pinks and reds and purple-grays, vinyl records, Berlin, all/mostly black outfits, black and gray tattoos, bats, ravens and crows, lemony desserts, ouija boards, tarot cards, classic horror films, stacks of unread books everywhere, silver and black jewelry, the chill of an autumn breeze, the sound of Rowland S. Howard’s guitar

I tag...

@kingink2 and @homo-trashcanicus (if y’all wanna do it! no pressure!) and anyone else who sees this and wants to do it!

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

I posted 30,648 times in 2022

That's 2,423 more posts than 2021!

378 posts created (1%)

30,270 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@stop-pressing-e

@the-other-jugs

@cutiebooties-and-cumberbatch

@fucking-straight

@stupid-lemon-eater

I tagged 378 of my posts in 2022

#youtube - 110 posts

#vox machina - 17 posts

#apex legends - 12 posts

#lmao - 7 posts

#mood - 6 posts

#yes - 4 posts

#pokemon go - 3 posts

#caustic - 3 posts

#apex - 3 posts

#lmaoooo - 3 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#like... i think thee'd have to be thunderbolts raining down as i flipped off the sky to motivate me to even consider... how i would tell th

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

you know, in almost every horror movie ive seen where the premise is that the whole family/community are cannibals and th3ey just have whole rooms for bodies to be hanging about in different pieces

like...99% of the movies just have it in some filthy shed or room covered in old blood and mold, with flies and meat hanging up sans refrigeration

like how has the whole ass cmmunity or family not died from rotten meat? from salmonella? half the time they don't even clean the bodies before they kill them so they're caked in mud

pretty sure humans have weird shit that lives on our skin just chilling and waiting for a cut or microtear to get inside and cause chaos

you would think an entire household or town dedicated to luring tourists and murdering them for meat would have discovered a more efficient and food safe way to do it.

not to MENTION like how does this happen? you go to a town meeting one day and on the ballot is a) lowering the speed limit around the school, b) funding the community garden restoration, and c) becoming a covert murder factory for fun, food and frivolity...

Things that would make more sense than a hotel that traps people: a SPA

the people coming in are usually the health-conscious type, they have some form of bath or soak throughout the process, they're relaxed, and you could put paralytics in the facemasks or something

not to mention, most rural towns (where this shit is usually set?) have butchers and mobile butchers at that with their own set up and clean room type equipment. there's heaps in our area. Wouldn't it be less suspicious to have them turn up, grab the bodies and transport them to another area for dismemberment? People are used to mobile butchers doing this sort of thing with cowsa, pigs, goats, etc. Plus they'd at least have clean equipment and less chance of unsanitary items used for the dispersement of meat etc.

The butcher shop would be the first place you'd think of for cold storage, but what about the freezers in the local supermarket? Assuming there's a walk-in and everyone's on board so the new people in town won't squeal to anyone.

The local ice cream truck or shop? Maybe?

If it's small enough the pub might have one of those converted shipping containers out back that's now a giant freezer.

Not sure how they'd store it, but like there has to be a better premise for the horror of the movie than 'opened fridge in dirty house to find a head or fingers'.

I think you could absolutely pull a subtle horror story out of this, and they could legit gaslight the tourists (only taking specific ones) by advertising the hotel as haunted.

you KNOW that people will already be on edge thinking they might see a ghost, and will manufacture paranormal incidents, which is the real trojan horse here. so you go in thinking its a ghost movie or maybe a cryptid movie, so when the occasional bone or skull is found it's like "oh no, the ghost/cryptid did it"

the whole time the protagonist(s) are having just the most amazing meals and customer service... never suspecting.

NOT TO MENTION none of that bone windchimes bullshit.

What is the one thing a LOT of farmers use? It smells like vomit so you always know its in use? Blood and Bone fertiliser. no questions asked for anyone who has been in a farming area. It really helps gardens bc nutrients (its legit blood and bone with other mixtures, usually the offal and such from abbottoirs)...

Maybe the locals are like super funny about it. There's a whole year-round halloween attraction with real skeletons and just enough tacky decorations that no one questions them.

Or the doctor's office has a like 6ft skeleton and the school uses it on occasion for biology.

the real question is like, what are funeral rights like in a town dedicated to eating people?

Is a town member considered Sacred and Off the Menu?

Or is it an honour to have your body shared amongst your loved ones after death? Does anything change in the event of like, an unexpected or accidental passing?

If you have a combine harvester accident, and you lose an arm, does the amputated limb go on the menu or it is carefully disposed of?

They never really look into how this whole system works in terms of a full town structure. It's always some shitty "protag snaps awake and screams at dead bodies" thing as people leer or masked people cut up bodies"

If they expanded on it, it could be interesting.

But that's just me, I'd want to know WHY a whole town went full hannibal and how that impacted all the other systems. Government, health, education, political/legal, community events?

Do they have a section for Special Meat Dishes in the local show / bake-off?

See the full post

57 notes - Posted April 24, 2022

#4

...can a mimic get into a hospital/magical medical center with dr clerics or whatever, and pretend to be an organ?

Like, eat what was in the transport carrier, and get transplanted?

That could be a really fucked up DnD campaign where it slowly starts to bond to the body and fights for ful control of the limbs, and noone in the party knows until the changes are physical...

It could go:

a) the horror route, where they lose out to them and become a monster, and perhaps this is how mimics gain the mass to become a greater threat

b) the tragic hero route, where they see they are being consumed and sacrifice themselves to save the others

c) the changeling route, where the two mix into a new entity either with, or against, the will of both the mimic and the host

d) the symbiote route, where they bond and learn to live together, even begin to work together and maybe even love one another much to the discomfort of the other party members sharing the tent

e) the trial by fire route, where only through great suffering can the means to remove the creature or make it inert be gained

f) the medusa route, where the host is strengthened through (faith, medicine, magic, other) and is able to overcome the parasitic thing and force it into inertia so it 'dies' but remains as the organ itself

g) the feral route, where the host embraces the desires radiating through them and becomes wildly unhinged around concepts like 'good/bad' and 'friend/food' as the tendrils slip into their mind but still retains primary consciousness

h) the mirror route, where the creature takes control if the host is unconsious and has a different 'self', but will usually only act to preserve the body

i) the What? route, where the hero just wakes up as a normal person with a strange ability to shapeshift or blend into surroundings without any explanation and is just like 'fuck it let's gooooo'

j) the Aw YEah route, the same as i) but it's a bard, and they use it for... reasons of charisma, seduction and experimentation

k) the What To Do When You're Expecting route, this could be the final part of a mimic lifecycle and the hero was a good option to carry their spawn or eggs or magical essence or however you want to play that. mostly bc it would be hilarious to have someone being healed mid-battle and the cleric being like, 'uh, congratulations and im not sure what it is but there's a lot of teeth...'

l) the Choose route, where the host has a crucial moment to choose to keep the mimic or destroy it despite the cost and has to think about the benefits and problems. like, it could be attached to any other letter scenario as well, or random.

m) the PAssive route, weird but hear me out... the cleric catches it, and believes fervently that their patron or deity would want them to help soothe the anger and bloodlust, to bring this creature to peace and handles the issues through intense meditation or calm

n) the Zombie route, where the creature bonds to the hero and fills their blood with spores. non toxic, not harmful, but it does push for them to bring their bodily fluids into contact with the others around them. maybe they get hurt in battle more easily, maybe they're more seductive than usual, or more violent (eg biting in fights), and it targets the party. because it wants to build a protective brood around the host that are loyal to the mimic and will die to keep it safe / has readily available back-up hosts around.

o) the It Takes a Village route, smooshing concepts (k) and (n) together, so that the mimic builds a whole interconnected family of ifferent biologies to spawn through. giving the future mimics unique and durable genetics. more autonomy for hosts, but it pushes emotional bonds as well, and builds an army to protect spawn.

p) the Bonding Song route, where it uses the basic idea of (n) but to gradually make the infected cease movement and settle in a safe, secluded place all together with one mobile to bring food to them as the others meld together physically into a big organic Thing that will slowly form into a Boss Mimic. The mobile one remaining will continue to feed it, and help lead adventurers to it.

Probably others

74 notes - Posted March 15, 2022

#3

cant shake this shitty headcanon in my brain of percy accidentally seducing the others in vox machina by teaching them how to do court dances

something the gentry and nobility are schooled in from a young age bc half their interactions with other noble houses are at balls where all dancing is regimented and very public, the most physical contact with someone outside your own household, usually

But it's all 'hands pressed as you step in counterpoint' and maybe a few flourishes or dips to show you have some mastery

its all fun and games until you realise how close you both are, and that you have the instructors full attention as he shows you how to dance (and not make an ass of yourself at the next formal dinner/ball / charity royal or-gee or whatever the money havers get up to in their free time)

Scanlan would be fun, though, imagine the strict discipline of dance trying to quell a bard whose entire way of motion to music involves hip thrusts and disco moves???

just saying, could be hilarious, could be very cute too

having trouble picturing a few of them, but as a spectator sport it would be very entertaining

89 notes - Posted May 15, 2022

#2

Master List - Creativity Help/Art Block Busting for Writers & Artists

Post for AUs & Tropes

Post for Monster-Making (Mundane Items)

Post for Dryad Creation

Post for Fae/Fairy Creation

Post for Random Character Weaknesses

Post for Random Superpowers

Post for Mermaid Making

Post for Monster Mixology

Post for Making a Randomised Centaur/Taur

Post for Winged Creatures

96 notes - Posted May 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

i feel like the voix machina group could have handled the percy situation much easier if they have an enchanted like, pole catcher thing

like... "I am death and vengeance and-"

*snick* "Gotcha, let's get you a snickers."

324 notes - Posted April 3, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[ferrettz]

I posted 1,167 times in 2022

That's 324 more posts than 2021!

71 posts created (6%)

1,096 posts reblogged (94%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@starscream-s

@local-aro-cryptid

@is-the-owl-video-cute

@barnabybugspeopleonline

@pwesident

I tagged 620 of my posts in 2022

Only 47% of my posts had no tags

#sso - 44 posts

#star stable - 41 posts

#ssoblr - 26 posts

#lucy flowerhill - 24 posts

#bugs - 23 posts

#&lt;3 - 19 posts

#linda chanda - 19 posts

#star stable online - 14 posts

#yeah - 11 posts

#sso oc - 11 posts

Longest Tag: 130 characters

#for instance: floating spirits would do perfectly fine wandering around your home but would be much happier on a road or cliffside

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Woah! So I found this chart on Twitter and uhh.. Yeah I drew my girl, now this is with a mouse so I apologize for the wonkiness! But yeah she’s here. 

I would also like to add that Linda calls her Starlight after they start dating and I just think that’s cute. 

Also those scars in the lil box are on her right side. 

and here is the link to the template : https://twitter.com/cparrisart/status/1475535559984656392

29 notes - Posted April 29, 2022

#4

“anyway here’s wonderwall” -Lisa, probably.

30 notes - Posted March 16, 2022

#3

See the full post

46 notes - Posted May 15, 2022

#2

48 notes - Posted January 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Also I’d like to say that the majority of Tumblr acts in the most disgusting of ways towards vegans than literally any other platform I’ve been on. 

Like go eat some rice and calm the fuck down. 

53 notes - Posted March 12, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[royal-despair]

Countdown prompts!

❀ To build hype for the game, we're going to have a 30 day countdown before the roleplay starts!! These are be fun ideas to draw or write oneshots for each day! Let us know if there's something specific you'd rather not have/prefer something else over! These are not required! they're just for fun hohoho!

oh! and try not to have spoiler-y things in your countdown stuff! it's more fun to reveal that kind of stuff in the game, right? 

Also, sorry that I’m posting this a bit late haha; Please tag @royal-despair or #royaldespair and we’ll reblog your countdown content!!

5/19 - 1: Your oc in Hope's Peak Academy! Their uniform, and daily life. 

5/20 - 2: Your oc eating their favorite food! Or something interesting happening at their favorite restaurant. 

 5/21 - 3: Your oc in one of your outfits! Or, what your life would be if you had your oc's talent 

 5/22 - 4: Talentswap your oc with another one on the roster! 

 5/23 - 5: Your oc in in summer clothes! Write a cute beach scene for them. 

 5/24 - 6: Yakuza/Yankee AU setting with your oc! What kind of people would they surround themselves with? 

 5/25 - 7: Your oc as Ultimate Despair! Write how they'd bring hopelessness to the masses. 

 5/26 - 8: Your oc as a child! What did they look like back then? Write a day of how they wished their childhood went (so there's no spoilers) 

 5/27 - 9: Your oc in a zombie apocalypse AU! How would they fair in this world? 

5/28 - 10: Your oc eating their favorite food! Write about how they'd react to being gifted this food. 

 5/29 - 11: Your oc in the outfit of one of the canon characters in DR1 ! How would they fair in the DR1 story? 

 5/30 - 12: Your oc with their favorite animal/pet! Write a little something about how they happened to come across the friend. 

 5/31 - 13. Palletswap your oc with another one on the roster or your oc swapped with the (surface level) personality of someone else on the roster 

 6/1 - 14: Your oc as mastermind! What would they wear and what could their motives be (no spoilers)

6/2 - 15: Your oc in the outfit of the protagonist in a video game! (not danganronpa though, ahaha). Write about how your oc would react to realizing they can save/load in real life? 

 6/3 - 16: Your oc in fall fashion! Write about how they'd spend a cool fall day/afternoon/night.

6/4 - 17: Your oc's witchsona/wizardsona! Write about their best spells and hexes. 

 6/5 - 18: Your oc in the outfit of one of the canon characters in SDR2! How would they fair in the SDR2 story? 

 6/6 - 19: Your oc in an idol or a lolita/ouji outfit! What kind of music genre would they sing as an idol? Write a day in their life.(edited)

6/7 - 20: Whatever your oc would dress up as for halloween! Don't dress them in a costume, draw them as that thing! Write a horror story with your oc; how would they react to seeing a ghost? 

6/8 - 21: Your oc in winter clothes! Write about how they'd spend a snowday! 

6/9 - 22: Your oc in the outfit of a canon character in DR3 (anime) ! How would they fair in the DR3 story?

6/10 - 23: Your oc as a (humanoid) mythical creature! Mermaid? Centaur? Write a story about your oc being a local cryptid 

6/11 - 24: Draw your oc in an aesthetic of your choice! (some ideas: roaring 1920's, pirate, scifi, etc.) Write about your oc going to a costume shop and getting carried away. 

 6/12 - 25: Your oc in spring clothes! Florals and flowercrowns, oh my! Write about your oc at a picnic or how they'd spend their day. 

 6/13 - 26: Your oc tattered with tattoos! What kind of tattoos would they get? Write about your oc getting a tattoo for the first time, are they scared? 

 6/14 - 27: Your oc in an outfit swap of a canon character in DRV3! Write about how they'd interact with the V3 characters. 

 6/15 - 28: Your oc in the theme of any of the canon Killing game mascots or the Royal Despair mascots! Monokuma, Monomi/Usami, Shirokuma, Kurokuma, Monophani, Monosuke, Monotaro, Monodam, or Monokid. Write about your oc if they came into our universe and saw advertisements for the Daganronpa video game series. 

 6/16 - 29: Your oc in the place of a character in a traditional children's story (alice in wonderland, little red riding hood, goldilocks etc)! Write the story with all the changes your character would bring to the table. 

 6/17 - 30: Draw your character crying. Write about your character falling into despair (no spoilers).

[retro-pooka]

Revisiting Old Me

This was a tag I took part in years ago and dear god have I changed since then 😂 I was told by my darling dork of a girlfriend to redo this as a remembrance of the emo trash which was once me

The Questions

1. How would you describe your go-to style? My style has mostly been inspired by the 50’s fashion as seen with brands like Hellbunny but also really inspired by Japanese Street-fashion like Decora and Menhera and definitely the silhouette is inspired by the cupcake silhouette seen in Lolita.

2. How do you like to wear your hair?

Out and curly, it’s untameable and fully of gay. I’ve been saying for a while that my hair relfects my sexuality.. not straight 😉🏳️‍🌈😂

3. Beverage of Choice?

Still Irn Bru cause I’m a stereotype of my own country 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 or Tim Hortons’ Iced coolers in Raspberry, was soo good. Why did Canada hide the glory which is Tim Hortons for so long!

4. Best School Memory?

Best school memory would be in College when the whole canteen joined in to sing Bohemian Rapsody when it started to play on someone’s speaker or when I was invited to a Christian picnic despite being a witchy bitch, they had j20 and donuts! I couldn’t refuse!

5. What do you think about in the early hours of the morning?

I meditate and try to push my mind off thinking about the pain in my body, focusing on the positive things like my girlfriend’s dorky messages or my mum calling me bitch (lovingly might I add) Just really I think about positive things so that the universe might cut me some slack

6. Favourite thing about your closest friend?

Well I have two closest friends. The first being the person who I call my girlfriend, she is dorky and cute and is always interested in becoming knowledgeable in the things I like and are apart of e.g. Wicca and accept all of me ❤️

My second closest friend being my mum. She is my best friend. She is my roommate. We are far closer than a mother and daughter should be, we are two peas in a pod ❤️ She is accepting and loving and always open to my point of view on varying subjects

7. Are you the forgive and forget type or the remembering type?

I’m a bit of both. It depends on the situation which it surrounds.

8. Murder weapon of choice?

Poison. Quick and simple, my arms aren’t good with the whole slasher thing so I’ll keep it simple and pain free on my end 😂

9. What is your favourite colour to wear?

Pink! or green! Both look really nice on me and I have loads of clothes with those colour schemes!

10. What is one thing you regret?

My self-harm which I did when I was 12, still really regret it and actually I really regret nearly all of last year 😂 not a good year last year for me

11. How are you doing right now?

I’m stable and calm. It’s really nice ❤️

The original tagger’s questions

1. Where is your favourite place to be?

Scotland. It’s my home. And I know I will return to Scotland one day permanently with my menagerie of animals and wife so we can become local cryptids.

2. If you had a child, what would you name them?

Pandora or Artemis for a girl, powerful women in their own ways. Or even Saorise, the name has always resonated with me and felt homely almost

For boys, Arthur or David. Both named after my granddads. Both have played major roles in my life and have watched me grow. Arthur also because of King Arthur, what can I say?! I’m a mythology nerd!

3. Top 5 tv shows or Movies

Movies - The Last Unicorn, Flight Of Dragons, Pan’s Labyrinth, Any Captain America film honestly and Fantastic Beasts!

Tv Shows - Outlander, Sherlock, Supernatural, Doctor who and probably Grimm

4. Name 3 things you like about yourself?

- My hair ~ it’s wild and it is apart of me. It’s apart of my identity and makes me (Sophie) me.

- My Scottish Heritage ~ I’m always proud of being Scottish and open about my culture to people who wish to learn

- My Body ~ I used to hate it and still kinda do, even though my health issues can make it hard to love it, I still do. I admire my body and cheer myself on.

5. Any odd fears or phobias?

- Afraid of the Dark

- Claustrophobic

- Being surprised from behind

- Insects

6. Last thing you said to a friend?

Good night!

7. Favourite food?

Full Scottish Breakfast! And or a Roast Dinner! Homely foods are always the best!

8. Dream Job?

Scriptwriter or Director! or a Neighbourhood Witch. Any of those jobs would fulfill me and give me joy!

9. Someone currently living you would like to meet?

Guillermo del Toro! He is my favourite director of all time! His work inspires me and helps me to remember to take inspiration from fairy tales or mythos!

10. Dream Vacation Spot?

New Orleans, Salem, the Highlands or New York!

11. Any OTPs?

Claire and Jamie from Outlander ❤️🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

My Own Questions!

1. A word which makes you cringe?

Moist. It will always make my cringe. No matter what the context may be.

2. A movie that made you cry?

A lot of movies have made me cry. Hm. Probably ‘The Last Unicorn’ as it has so many memories attached to it for me or ‘Coco’ cause that movie fucked me up 😂 so emotional

3. If you could travel to any fictional world, which would you travel to?

Either Outlander, because I’m Scottish and I’d blend right in and because I’m a nerd for my own heritage

Or

Fantastic Beasts as I’m a sucker for the 1920’s! It’s a beautiful setting especially in New York and the backdrop of magic makes it 100x better!

4. If you could revive any fictional character from the dead, who would you revive?

LUPIN! OR SIRIUS! My boys! My dog morphing children!

5. Favourite Song?

Bohemian Rhapsody (Queen) or American Pie (Don McLean)

6. Favourite sound?

My girlfriend’s voice or the rain

7. Favourite Climate?

SNOWWW!!!!

8. Favourite scent?

Lavender or Bergamot!

9. Favourite Mythical Creature?

Unicorns, Each Uisge or Selkies! All have relevance in Scottish Mythology!

10. Favourite Book?

The Last Unicorn by Peter. S. Beagle

11. Favourite genre of music?

Celtic folk music or 70’s/80’s rock

That is all the questions! I tag only one person since it’s her fault I redid this tag! @loopinmoon! It’s your turn! You can’t escape this time!

[ihavealavalamp]

tagged by @icescroll !! thank u ily,, 

rules: answer 20 questions and tag 20 blogs that you would like to get to know better! im gonna put it all under the cut cause Long

nicknames: there’s Many.. including, but not limited to: car, caramel, pikachu (by my coworkers, jay (by my family), mouse (also by family), and my url was a nickname when i was a kid cause i ate a lot dfgdfg

gender: carmen

star sign: sagittarius!

height: 5′4ish i believe

time: 1:04pm

birthday: november 25th

favorite bands: radical face, passion pit, lorde, death cab for a cutie

favorite solo artists: ben cooper, amanda palmer

song stuck in my head: pay no mind by passion pit!

last movie: i watched the new jumanji with my sis and my uncle not too long ago..it was Wild

last tv show watched: i dont watch a whole lot of tv shows, so i guess season 2 of stranger things

when did i create my blog: a little over four years ago!

what do i post: mainly ghibli, pokemon, misc anime, birds, cats, and d&d!

last thing i googled: needletail from the warriors series...saw a post about her and i was Curious cause im not caught up on the warriors lore ghfh

do i have other blogs: YEAh i have a whole bunch..i have an art sideblog, a legend of zelda one, a D&D one, and a blog that i run with a friend called fireemblemfemslash where we just reblog good lesbian art and it’s good

do i get asks: not as much these days, but that’s mainly cause im not super active bc im Busy fgdfg

why did i choose my url: it’s a nickname from when i was a kid! i loved to eat meat a lot, so it was a play on words of carmen and carnivore..but now everyone thinks im into vore. so im in hell i guess

following blogs: 270, but ive been meaning to go through and unfollow inactive blogs

followers: 1196! very close to 1200..

favorite colors: i like them all!!

average hours of sleep: during the week, roughly 6-7 hours, and during weekends i tend to sleep for like. 12 hours.

lucky number (s): dont really have any!

instruments: clarinet! i used to be in band. ive also adopted my dads guitar, but i have yet to learn how to play..

what am i wearing: hoodie and jeans.. hell yea

how many blankets do i sleep with: like, four. it’s cold as Fuck

dream job: local cryptid in the woods who throws pinecones at passerbys

dream trip: i wanna visit italy..or just go on a big roadtriip with some friends, that’s the Dream

favorite food: sushi! 

nationality: im canadian!

favorite song right now: my favorite song is Always moths wings by passion pit

and for tagging, uhh!! i’ll tag @ninjacacti, @crowempress, @youngninelifer, @furrybarista and @paperboo!! though tbh if u really wanna do this then u can just take it and say i tagged you gffhf

[vanus]

13 15 20 foe eater

The post is for the whole thing so here’s an info dump

01. Full name: Foe Eater02. Best friend: Duvato or Relas ( @gaytransterenus & @twinkmannimarco ’s ocs) 03. Sexuality: lesbian/ace04. Favorite color: green 05. Relationship status: going stag babey!!06. Ideal mate: none07. Turn-ons: no thanks 08. Favorite food: people or bread09. Crushes: 0 10. Favorite music: anything with a drum (modern au is ska music)11. Biggest fear: small spaces/being trapped12. Biggest fantasy: living life in the woods, local cryptid style13. Bad habits: does being a cannibal count? 🤔 also being too rowdy14. Biggest regret: getting sacrificed 15. Best kept secrets: their birth name, even they don’t remember it16. Last thought: as in before death??? Or in general? Probably just “I fucked up” 17. Worst romantic experience: listening to someone try to flirt with them18. Biggest insecurity: inability to know when they’ve gone too far19. Weapon of choice: greatsword babey! Chop chop bitches20. Role Model: Speaker Terenus probably

[motherfucker-unlimited]

30 questions

 Tagged by @nbitchn the local beta crycat

Rules: answer 30 questions and tag 20 10 people. (i’m too lazy to do 20)

Nickname(s): Sokekon, cryptid, horse

Gender: cis dude, if it wasn’t a hassle I’d probably be fluid

Sign: Virgo

Height: 180 cm

Time: 17:19

Birthday: 24/08

Favourite bands: Daft Punk, Perfume

Favourite solo artists: Perturbator, M|O|O|N, Carpenter Brut

Song stuck in my head: MATSIEVSKY GENERAL

Last movie i watched: The new Lame Wars

Last show i watched: Land Of The Lustrous

When did i create this blog: 2011, but we don’t talk about that time

What do I post: I try to be funny, videogays, some fandom stuff, overall mess

What did i last google: Furi - You’re Mine

Do i get asks: very rarely, if so, it’s from mutuals regarding something I posted

Why did i choose this url: Legit: Buy Actavis promethazine cough syrup ” lean drank purple” @ $190 per 16 oz pint( Hi tech, qualitest also available at $155 per 16oz pint). text  (724) 901-1326. Grab yours now!! Payment by Western Union / Moneygram or pay with debit card online easy via Worldremit. I accept half payment upfront and half upon delivery ONLY on special offers like: $550 for 3 pints of actavis $650 for 4 pints of actavis $800 for 5 pints of actavis $900 for 6 pints(half case) of actavis $1500 for 10 pints of actavis $1850 for 12 pints (full case) + 1 free 8oz. Regular delivery time is 2 days Overnight delivery is extra $25 within USA & Canada only. We also offer prescription (temporal and permanent scripts you can renew after some time and get shipments safer than ever).Email: globalmedicalservices.ltd@gmail.com Call/Text: (724) 901-1326 Skype: rcsuppliersIf you have any questions or suggestions, do not hesitate to contact us. Depending on the order prices can be negotiated. You’re all welcome.

Average hours of sleep: 4-7

Lucky number: 1337 (gamer number)

Instruments: nothing

What i am wearing: Puma sweatpants (Slav) and a black shirt

Dream job: Rich fuck

Favourite food: B O R G E R

Last book i read: Do I look like the person that knows how to read? I haven’t read shit since like 4 years

3 favorite fandoms: I’m gonna treat it as a question about the fandom itself, not the subject matter, so I’m going with: Land of the Lustrous, Nichijou and Speedrun/GDQ community (not a part of it, but they do amazing stuff)

Tagging: I’m gonna be extra lazy and just use the ‘Tumblr Crush’/’Biggest Fan’ systems. (Obviously, no pressure, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to)   @snakegay @yeah-yeah-beebiss-1 @lawgivah @yabukuron @spoon-fresh @papajohnpizzas @final-fantasy-v @eikichi-michel-mishina @arcanicdragon @generalgorp

[theprisonerofasgard]

GET TO KNOW THE BLOGGER

Can be used for RP and non-RP blogs to get to know a bit about the person behind the screen!

1. FIRST NAME: Wichi or Wichita

2. STRANGE FACT ABOUT YOURSELF: Does the fact that I left my high stress but decent-paying job with absolutely zero plan for what happened next and am running out of money count as weird

3. TOP THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU FIND ATTRACTIVE ON A PERSON: TOL. A lil bit soft. And scruffy. Not full on beard, but scruffy. Give me that 5 o’clock shadow

4. A FOOD YOU COULD EAT FOREVER AND NOT GET BORED OF: Tamales and chicken paprikash.

5. A FOOD YOU HATE:  E G G S. I hate the taste of egg whites. The only reason eggs are every in my house is because I bake like a motherfucker

6. GUILTY PLEASURE: Baking shit I usually end up just taking photos of and then eating myself because it’s just me and my family that wants me to stop. Also writing a cringe fic so cringe I won’t put it near this blog lmao

7. WHAT DO YOU SLEEP IN: cheap pajama pants, a sports bra and a t-shirt. Real sexy stuff

8. SERIOUS RELATIONSHIPS OR FLINGS: My last relationship was long distance and 8 years ago. I’m going to die alone.

9. IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN THE PAST AND CHANGE ONE THING ABOUT YOUR LIFE, WOULD YOU AND WHAT WOULD IT BE: I would have told me that I don’t want to study journalism, but visual communication technology. And I’d tell me I was going to get depression in my junior year and to see a fucking DOCTOR

10. ARE YOU AN AFFECTIONATE PERSON: I think I would be? I’m absolutely touch-starved but I’ve been single for so long, I think I’d have a hard time knowing when or how to initiate. Acts on the other hand, affectionate acts I can do.

11. A MOVIE YOU COULD WATCH OVER AND OVER AGAIN: Jurassic Park

12. FAVORITE BOOK: I have a lot, but the novel “It” made me want to write horror. The book is really fucking good, highly recommend it.

13. YOU HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO KEEP ANY ANIMAL AS A PET, WHAT DO YOU CHOOSE: I’d say a crow just because I think I could actually handle it in terms of care.

14. TOP FIVE FICTIONAL SHIPS [IF YOU ARE AN RP BLOG, YOU CAN USE YOUR OWN SHIPS AS WELL]: FROSTSHIELD with @captain-outoftime. I’d say McFritz, which is between a canon Jesse McCree written by the amazing meme @boilingheart ​ and my overwatch OC @nichtschaden ​.  Destiel. Ineffable Husbands. There’s more I’ll think of later.

15. PIE OR CAKE:  C A K E. I left my job and discovered baking, and all I want to do is make some ridiculously over the top cakes. I’ve ruined store-bought frosting for me forever.

16. FAVORITE SCENT:  Campfire smoke by the lake.

17. CELEBRITY CRUSH: I have so many. We’ll go with Tom Hiddleston.

18. IF YOU COULD TRAVEL ANYWHERE, WHERE WOULD YOU GO: I’ll go anywhere with water tbfh

19. INTROVERT OR EXTROVERT: introvert

20. DO YOU SCARE EASILY: depends on the type of scare. If the building is on fire I can focus and get myself out, but video game jump scares get me.

21. IPHONE OR ANDROID: Android. All I’ve ever heard from apple users is how much they hate apple, and how expensive and stupid it is. Fun game: tell an apple user they can buy something else, and you can literally watch their brainwaves flat line. I don’t understand it. 

22. DO YOU PLAY ANY VIDEO GAMES: YUP. I love FPS and RPG games most, but I’ll play any platform or genre with a good first person story. The only things I’m not big into are MMOs or an FPS that’s just people shooting other people. Give me monsters and zombies and aliens. Give me Half-Life.

23. DREAM JOB: A let’s player on twitch and youtube who does a combination of video games and sarcastic baking videos. Not the domestic instagram princess of baking but your local androgynous cryptid who can and will take the name of martha stewart in vain and that is a threat

24. WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITH A MILLION DOLLARS: Pay off all my bills. Invest in shit. Find a better apartment. Finally buy me some 8inch cake pans because I can’t justify spending $20 on cake pans when I don’t have a JOB

25. FICTIONAL CHARACTER YOU HATE: I hate this guy even more than when I started writing this because I had to look up his fucking name in the WIKI because he’s that fucking irrelevant he doesn’t even show up in the main cast list. Gavin from Detroit Become Human. I hate him because I went in prepared to like him? I saw memes on here before I played the game, and the content is just fucking. SATURATED with Gavin. I expected a big character. Or at least a cool one. Canon Gavin was in a whopping 30 seconds of the game and spent them being a really fucking unlikable human being. He’s just a flat, throwaway two-dimensional asshole. I wish I knew how the in the fuck he came to have the most fanart and headcanons and fics on this site. It’s like people sitting at a conference table got attached to a chair that was slightly edgier than the other chairs and ignored the actual meeting. Except for the parts they could pertain to that chair if they squinted so hard they couldn’t see.

26. FANDOM THAT YOU WERE ONCE A PART OF BUT AREN’T ANY LONGER: I don’t really get invested in fandoms as a whole? I just carve out a niche, interact with like 6 people and reblog the memes. I was never the bitch writing meta or jumping in on discourse. I guess maybe Doctor Who? I loved Nine and Ten, but stalled out years ago in the early episodes of Eleven because I couldn’t stand one of the companions and just never felt compelled to go back and bully my way through it. If a show feels like homework I have to get through, I’m not going to do it.

tagging: STEAL THIS SHIT