#strange torpedo

[vampirlor]

sorry this is so crazy. lucy dacus w tf

[quasi-normalcy]

Continuity and Serialization in Star Trek: A Highly Scientific Vibes-Based Analysis

[bucksbluescarf]

"You know if this whole thing ended, and there were only two pilots left up in the air? It'd be me, and it'd be you, Buck."

"Don't count on it."

john egan and gale cleven, masters of the air // lucy dacus, ...familiar place

[tigerlily1615]

oh my gosh lucy your music fucks???? Girl????

[frankmayo]

Harry Hewitt McCoy (1893-1937)

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Mikey Mine

Debut: Super Mario Galaxy

Everyone knows Bullet Bill! Many people know Torpedo Ted! Missile Meg is a promising up-and-comer! But what about Mikey Mine? Where does he fit in? Nowhere! He's from a different family, of a different culture, with a different naming system. Mikey Mine does not know any of those people, so stop asking him. He's trying do do his job, for Projectile Pete's sake!

This is his job! It's to wait underwater until someone comes by, then explode and kill them. "It's tough work, but someone's gotta do it," says Mikey Mine. He's lying! Nobody's gotta do it! The world is worse with you in it, Mikey Mine. So, Super Mario Wiki, how do we kill this guy?

"They can be defeated without harming Mario (or Luigi) if they are hit by a Star Bit or a Koopa Shell."

Ah! Thank you, my dear friend and sidekick. You always know just how to kill the weird guys that Mario encounters in his adventures. I don't question it, because I assume you know exactly how to kill me, too.

In addition to Mikey Mine, there is also the Space Mine, which is nearly the same thing! Mikey Mine is just aquatic, while these ones go wherever they please. But I don't think they please anything, because they are fully inanimate! A bit strange that they didn't use the same design for both of them, but I assume it's because Space Mine is used more as a simple obstacle, while Mikey is more like an enemy, appearing in a situation where he must be destroyed to progress. Giving Mikey eyes makes him more of a creature. Makes it clear he can be killed.

Geez! That makes sense from a gameplay perspective, but it's also messed up that it does. Killing creatures is so normal for even a friendly scrimblo like Mario to do! When Mario sees something with eyes, he assumes he will either be killing or eating it. To any eyeless cave shrimp in the audience, rejoice! Super Mario cannot hurt you!

[travelers-of-the-multiverse]

This was supposed to be a routine visit to his beloved. To be a routine like he did every day. To tease Sadan, to flirt with Reyna, to spoil her staff with treats.

He didn't get any of that.

Instead what he entered into was pouring rain in a sea, who's waves writhed in turmoil.

Not to mention the beast that tore a ship apart. The scene tickled at his memory, but that outweighed the fact that he saw a body go down to the waves.

He didn't even think. He just dove down and used his magic to have him torpedo down, and grab a familiar figure in dirty robes.

He didn't think of it as he pulled them both out of the sea with his magic, and made way to the nearest body of land he saw. Which was the infamous Fort Joy.

He didn't think of it when he put his ear against a scaly chest, and made sure that the familiar lizard was breathing.

Only when he had the time to inspect her for injuries did he let himself think.

And he knew, he had changed fate.

There was no turning it around now. The only thing he could do now, was make sure that Reyna, as a mortal being, was clean, and comfortable.

It was a strange feeling. To fall while others live, watching them escape while you're drowning. But, it wasn't bad to her, she was glad. Happy, really, to have saved those she thinks needed it. Even if she died, she was satisfied in the knowledge she did what was right. Painful as it was, she was grateful the others didn't have to experience this.

But, something tugged at her, as she sank into the deep blue. First, it was a mystical tug, like someone or something higher was pulling her away. Then, it was physical, a set of strong arms around her carrying her away. She wasn't full conscious, the water and smashing muddled her senses.

But, she grunts as she opens her eyes, sputtering a bit as she coughs up a bit of water.

"Ugh...geez. I knew drowning was painful, but I could never have expected to experience it." She mumbles as she sits up, and then sees Dave, tilting her head. "Oh, umm, hello. Are you...the one who pulled me out of there?" She asks.

[mareastrorum]

Been chewing more on how C3 wound up here. What’s throwing me is the strange shift from the cast’s unflinching “yes, and” game in C2 to a misplaced feeling that they need to choose correctly in C3.

I want to be clear here that this isn’t a criticism post because I genuinely don’t know what’s happening here. It’s just odd behaviors that seem to signal a problem, and I don’t know what solution would resolve it. I’m not going to be so presumptuous as to hypothesize about any cast member’s thoughts.

In the Cooldown for C3E118 (and offhandedly previously), Laura and Ashley expressed some nervousness about making big decisions because they’re worried about making the “wrong” choice. Without more, that attitude alone would explain much of the party’s indecisiveness about key campaign questions. After all, their characters are the two Ruidusborn of most interest to the campaign villains, and other characters (especially Orym, Laudna, and Ashton) have insisted that Imogen and Fearne take the lead on Predathos.

But this isn’t a story in a vacuum. C2 got completely derailed multiple times. The Mighty Nein decided to steal a pirate ship and leave the continent the campaign was set on; shortly after they returned, they decided to reopen a collapsed tunnel to go the opposite side of the continent; then Caleb returned the Luxon Beacon and made themselves heroes of an enemy nation instantly. That’s not even getting into the fact that Molly died before the Nein got to Shadycreek Run (which absolutely would have been all about his backstory) or that Twiggy left an incredible magical artifact that wasn’t supposed to be given to the Nein. Each time, Matt adjusted and made it work. Granted, C2 was more of a sandbox campaign, but Matt demonstrated his flexibility as a DM time and again.

Like, as a general rule of thumb, DMs shouldn’t offer options that would torpedo the campaign. It’s rational to avoid situations that have a genuine possibility of undercutting the game. Matt has been DMing for a long time; he’s done a very good job of finding ways to make the campaign work regardless of the decisions the players make. Even when players do something directly against the signals he threw out (like Ashton trying to absorb a second shard despite consistent, dire warnings that it would kill him), he works with the players to come to a reasonable solution (Ashton survived but the shard wouldn’t take, and he got some character moments out of the failure). We, the audience, know Matt is good at pivoting when he needs to.

In addition to taking the players’ curveballs like a champ, Matt also takes big swings for the sake of the story. In C1, Matt broke his biggest city with a dragon invasion, then made a new god leading an undead titan to go stomp out the world’s oldest civilization. In C2, he let the players go off the map whenever and still made the digression relevant to their character arcs every time. Not to be parasocial, but if we can figure out that that Matt can handle this sort of thing, the players certainly have a better feel for it than us.

So what is going on in C3? We know Matt isn’t scared of breaking Exandria or destroying the pantheon: he set that possibility in motion as the default ending if the players did nothing. CR literally did a mini series about the start of the end of the world with EXU Calamity. Laura and Ashley were also in Downfall and making big choices between the gods and mortals. Breaking stuff is what they do!

Where did this idea that there’s a “wrong” choice come from? That type of thinking kills a lot of great improv, and the whole point of the “yes, and” exercise is to shake it off. While it’s incredibly obvious to say not to think that way, the real issue is sorting out why that mentality has taken hold at all. That’s a problem no amount of fan discussion is going to resolve.

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 4 – The One About the Red Bag of Chaos

One of the things that never ceases to amaze me about this fandom is that Whenever Something Good Happens it ALWAYS torpedoes into Something Bad Happening.

Every.

Single.

Time.

And, that’s why we can never have nice things.

Case in point: “Brb” and the elusive Red Bag.

On October 4, we were graced with Luke’s Instagram story of luggage with the caption “Brb.” His picture included two pieces of luggage, a small metal carryon case, and a red bag. The red bag was interesting because it appeared to be – let’s face it, we all stereotyped this into being – a woman’s tote bag of some leathery sort. Lukola Sleuths tracked Luke’s image down to the first-class lounge for British Airways. I mean, we even got a not-so-blurry reflection of Luke in the corner of the luggage. We should have been ecstatic, right? Luke had posted two days in a row (with the first post being the cutesy “Mean Girls” reference to October 3), and Nicola had been peppering the trail with Lukola-laced yumminess since early August. I mean, we should have been biting our nails in excitement waiting to see what Luke or Nicola posted next.

But, no, that’s not what happened.

Instead, hysteria struck fast and hard. Why? Because at some point in her relatively short life, Antonia had danced in front of a red bag at – oh my God, wait for it – an airport! Oh, how the Conscientiously Stupid seized this tidbit of outdated information to terrorize the Sincerely Ignorant straight into shark infested waters!

The problem with this plotline was that (a) the video of Antonia was old, possibly even a few years old; and (b) there was absolutely no evidence the red bag Antonia was dancing in front of even belonged to her! The argument that this was Antonia’s red bag was simply one being pushed by assholes who enjoyed riling up the weaker parts of the fandom. And, let me tell you, these assholes succeed every time.

But, what was dismissed and ignored was the fact Nicola had a red bag in the background of her June 15, 2024 Tatcha post. If you need to see it for yourself, the video is still up on her Instagram grid. In the video, there is a shelf full of handbags of all sizes, and on the bottom of that shelf is, what appears to be, a large red bag (we can deduce this by acknowledging (a) it is red; (b) it is on a shelf full of other bags; and (c) it appears so large it needs to be tucked into the shelf). Is it THE red bag? Who the fuck knows? That is not the point. The point is, it is a red bag of some sort, and this fact should have outweighed the argument that the red bag belonged to Antonia.

But, it didn’t?

Why?

Because the fandom enjoys hysteria?

No, I don’t think it does. I’ve spoken to too many people on the verge of a meltdown to believe they enjoy spiraling.

So, what is it that causes good things to go bad so quickly in this fandom?

In my opinion, the answer lies somewhere between (a) the fandom believing that Lukola is too good to be true; (b) the fandom questioning their own intelligence and intuition; and (c) the fandom doubting the two people at the heart of this ship – Luke and Nicola. It’s strange to me that we would rather trust online bullies pushing their own deranged narratives than trust, at the very least, ourselves.

Whenever a Conscientiously Stupid tries to derail you, or an adjacent (ugh, there’s that word I hate again) pops up trying to make waves, take a moment to take a deep breath, roll your eyes, and have a good laugh (because I’m not going to lie, some of the shit that gets put out there is laugh-out-loud funny). But, most importantly, trust yourself and your intelligence because, if you're still in this fandom, your deductive reasoning skills are a chef's kiss.

And, to finish this story about the elusive red bag, just remember that Nicola posted an amazingly happy picture of herself the day after Luke, on an airplane, in first class on Aerlingus, an affiliate of British Airways that shares its first-class lounge. If these weren’t coordinated posts, I may as well say, “Screw it all,” and go live on a deserted island. Alone. With no phone. And no mascara.

Oh, and let me just slip in here that the elusive red bag quite possibly made an intentional reappearance in Nicola’s October 11 Olaplex story. But, I’ll leave any further speculation about that for a different day.

[alexanderlightweight]

If you're feeling in a dragon-y mood how about more 'Like real people do' I'm presuming eventually either they're going to have to leave Alicante or someone is going to send Magnus a message to check on him. Hope you have a great Wednesday! (and that the migraine lets up)

i am always in a dragon!mood tbh no matter who the dragon is. its just sometimes the other verses end up wanting to be written or easier to get down on text

it is down to fluctuating between a 5-6!!! I am mobile around the house and can do things like make tea and empty the dishwasher or start laundry which is big. and I can eat again, and should be able to drive again soon which is amazing. thank you for checking in <3

i hope you enjoy!

~ lumine

-

like real people do

Magnus has succumbed to Alicante’s traps.

Not the treasure trove of wonders and the hoard of knowledge, but the mere existence of Alexander has lured him close and kept him sated despite the deadline Magnus is racing against.

It leads to things like this, where instead of spending time in the ice library, he’s instead in the steamy caves of hot mineral pools with Alexander.

“Do you trust me?” Alexander asks, a soft grin on his face as he walks into one of the largest pools, the hot spring that he sometimes lays in while shifted.

“Of course, treasure,” the words fall off of Magnus’ tongue, honey-sweet with sincerity.  Magnus trusts Alexander in a way he thought impossible once, but that now seems natural.

“Good, you’ll need to.”

The perfunct words don’t match the pleased flush on Alexander’s face or the smug glint in his eyes before he shifts.

A wing stretches out and Magnus understands immediately the honor being offered him and the trust he needs to extend in turn.

The joints of Alexander’s wing offer a ladder to heaven as Magnus finally climbs up to the point between two joints of bone spines and lets his magic-wreathed fingers linger as he climbs.  Delighting in the rumbling purr it earns him, feeling how it reverberates through Alexander’s entire body until small waves are lapping at the edges of the pool.

Alexander is cold beneath him, when Magnus finally seats himself.  A stark and soothing contrast to the thick steam and then without further ado, they are plunging down.

The pool that Magnus once thought merely wide now seems incomprehensibly deep as Alexander’s wings and tail propel them through the water. A torpedo twinning down and down until it’s only the sheer mass and relief of Alexander’s ice nature that make the journey bearable. 

Alexander’s magic ensures that Magnus can breathe — and Magnus' own magic would have worked, he knows enough spells — with a cold layer of frost around his face. 

They surface into a cave of clear and vibrant green and blue minerals.  The crystals thrumming with something unheard but instead felt.

Here too is a library.  One with strange books made and bound with reeds and shells and the thick kelp they passed by. 

Magnus’ heart stutters, breath catching as Alexander shifts, drying them both with a shake of his hair and then proudly motioning Magnus towards a stack of books.

“I wanted to be sure it was worth it, to bring you all the way down here.”

The experience alone would be worth it, Magnus wants to tell him but his attention is riveted, captured by the books.

There are a series of runes rather than titles, a lost collection of rituals to tame the sands of Edom that has only ever been mentioned in myth.

“Treasure—” Magnus’ fingers tremble as he reaches out, carefully touching the perfectly preserved pages, the texture almost fluid beneath his fingers as he opens the first book.

Beyond his wildest hope, he’d never imagined such a thing to still exist, if it ever had.

Nothing else is said as he feather-quick looks through the books, his back braced by Alexander’s body as his dragon reads and watches over his shoulder. Supporting Magnus with his presence and the steady hands on Magnus’ hips that lend him strength.

It’s in the third book that he finds the answer.

A beautifully elegant but horrifically devastating ritual that will tear a Greater Demon apart without their power going berserk upon annihilation.  Without the backlash of Edom causing severe damage on the realm that tore a part of her away, and with a list of ingredients that make Magnus wonder if he’ll need to find yet another answer.

He’s sure he can, that it would be possible to find another answer in the books he has yet to read.  Yet this one would be the best, he can tell from the way his magic responds to merely reading the word in his mind.

“Half of these will be nearly impossible to find without copious amounts of time and effort—” he mutters to himself. Already searching through his mind on how to delegate such an endeavor. 

“Magnus.”

Alexander rarely interrupts him and Magnus turns, abandoning the open book and his thoughts without regret. 

Realizing that in his fervor, he’s neglected the very being who brought him here. An apology is on his lips, but Alexander isn’t looking at him, instead his pupils are wide and dark, swallowing up his irises as he finishes reading the page Magnus set down.

“I already have all of those things.”

“What? Darling, what’s required is far more than just books and scrolls or jewels and some rare potions.”

Alexander blinks slowly at him and then something soft crinkles the corners of his eyes and he huffs out a frosted breath.

“I’m a dragon, Magnus. I may prefer finding abandoned or lost hoards, but I collect things all the same. If it has value to it, I have some type of it somewhere in Alicante.  Or did you think I would limit myself to knowledge and trinkets?”

Truthfully, Magnus hasn’t really bothered considering what Alexander hoards, beyond being honored that he’s been allowed full reign of a dragon’s lair.  Now it makes something spark in his chest, something he snuffs out immediately. 

Alexander is temptation incarnate as it is and if Magnus allows himself to indulge, even just one more quick taste, he may not have the willpower to leave.

Even if his departure is only temporary. 

“How am I going to leave you, even if only for a moment.” The words are pulled from him regretfully, remorse churning in his belly, already feeling a longing to be reunited even though they’ve yet to part.

“What do you mean, leave?” Alexander’s brow is furrowed and the scales on his jaw expand, shifting and rippling as they cover his cheekbones and the ridge of his nose, the corners of his eyes and his brow.  

“I can’t do the ritual from here, Alexander.” 

“Then you can send the ingredients and instructions through a portal. I’ll give you permission, give them to you entirely so they’re more yours then mine. And you’re already able to portal throughout Alicante, if you tap into the wards with a keystone then you can portal them to wherever you want. The other warlocks you’ve said are out there can complete it.” Alexander seems convinced, clearly thrilled by the solution he thinks he’s discovered.

“Thats—” Magnus hesitates and then smiles, soft and disarming, “the bloodline of Edom, the blood of Royals that I carry, is needed, Alexander.  It will ensure the ritual is at full strength. This fight will need every advantage possible.”

Alexander processes that, clearly displeased but trying to understand and then he nods, accepting reality so quickly it relieves Magnus.

“Then we’ll both go.”

Magnus falters for the first time, fingers tight around Alexander’s own and keeping his voice deliberately calm asks, “both of us, treasure?”

Absolutely not.

The very thought of Alexander’s first introduction to the outside world being amid the current chaos and destruction is incomprehensible. 

No, Magnus needs to see this through and finish it.  

Once and for all.  

No one will be surprised if he takes a leave of absence as a High Warlock after this.  In fact, the Labyrinth will almost certainly declare a mandatory sabbatical for the warlocks on the frontlines.

So Magnus will do what he needs to and return.

He promises this even as he plans how to ensure it.

—

Everything is gathered now, tucked into the rings holding Magnus’ pocket dimensions.  Every priceless thing needed for the ritual has been sealed with magic that will allow them to leave their keeper’s hoard without inviting a curse.

“This is for the best, darling—” Magnus promises, soothing Alexander with magic and words, desperate to linger for just a moment longer, even though his heart lies already deep in sleep.  He dressed Alexander warmly, made a nest of the bed with furs and silk, quilts and feathered stuffed blankets that should be more comfortable than a stone floor with some furs. “I’ll be back before there’s time to even consider it a true dragon nap, just a few weeks at most.”

Perhaps it’s cruel to trick him so, to use the very gifts and privileges Alexander has given Magnus over the weeks they’ve spent together.  Magnus loathes locking him back into the same magically deep slumber Magnus woke him from, but it's the only way to keep him safe.

Here in Alicante where even Lilith cannot stray.

It’s torture, to tear himself away from Alexander’s side and leave him there.

Yet only here will nothing touch him.

Magnus knows that. 

Proof of it is how Alexander’s magic is in every aspect of Alicante and the hoard itself revitalizes him even as his magic cloaks the entirety of his realm.

But Alexander will be alone again, even if he remains asleep.

Magnus will be leaving him, if only for a little while.

It breaks a part of him to do this, but Alexander hadn’t understood the concept of Magnus leaving his side and Magnus can’t take Alexander with him.

Not when Alexander would be a target, perhaps not truly defenseless but Magnus can easily imagine how quickly his treasure would be taken advantage of.

Too many would see the curious, almost innocent gleam of Alexander’s eyes as he’s introduced to a new world and they’d want to use him.

Magnus has left layers and layers of his magic across Alicante by now.  

Despite the distance between them, Alexander will sleep under his embrace and when Magnus returns, he will wake his dragon with apologies and kisses and promises that he will be able to keep, next time.

Magnus doesn’t hear the agonized, aching roar of fury that echoes across Alicante as the portal closes, or how the calm peace shatters as wingbeats shake the very air with thunder.

The sky turns black, the sun blotted out before the world of Alicante flips upside down as a dragon falls.

—

AN:

Alec is fine, i don’t think anyone deserves the anxiety of cliffhangers in this economy so just so you know he is throwing a (well deserved) giant dragon tantrum.

He let himself get as big as possible and then let himself fall into his own damn lake when he realized that no, he really can’t feel magnus anymore. Magnus left.

He’s going to take a nap at the bottom of it in heartache and he’s going to be sulking the entire time magnus is gone. Magnus left like, everything except himself that alec could track and while alec will eventually plan on how to go get magnus. He’s allowing himself to recover because he’s really upset right now and not dealing with that well and magnus had told him his presence would only put him in danger (a lie but magnus was out here trying to play 5d chess with alec who thought they were playing footsie) so he’s not going to risk that. He’s just really upset right now okay? He’s really out here going: if id eaten him he couldn’t have left me... but then i still wouldn’t have him next to me. i don’t like this. If magnus wanted me to sleep then i’ll take a nap and ignore him. See how he likes it. Then i’ll show up when he least expects it. Waking me up just to put me to sleep again, like a book put back on a shelf when you’re done reading it.

Magnus. You really thought you could take a dragon’s heart away and just use sleeping magic to keep him unaware???? 

Magnus: im not taking anything alexander hasn’t given me. So i’m not stealing from his hoard. 

Magnus taking himself, which is Alexander’s and who has certainly not given permission for his hoard to leave

Alec waking up with Magnus gone: ... i see. So it’s true you can’t trust anyone. 

Please remember magnus has only ever interacted with alec and him. Like he’s never seen alec meet people and he thinks alec mostly kills people because they intrude on his hoard.

He has NO fucking clue that his oblivious, gullible (to him) sweet little isolated dragon who must be protected is actually at nature a very asocial and insular dragon who (once he meets people) finds himself 100% grateful that he was isolated because he doesn’t think he could handle people without magnus. No matter how tasty the treats Magnus introduces him to are.

Like Alec is happy he waited and didn’t have them for centuries. They’re probably tastier since Magnus is feeding him anyways. 

Magnus: i can’t take him with me, he’ll be taken advantage of the moment i turn my back to take care of lilith 

What actually would have happened is a very large angry dragon coiled around Magnus, protecting him and sharing magic with him while he did the ritual.

Magnus is not the bad guy in this situation!!! 

No one would consider taking the person they love (someone they consider a very vulnerable personality because of evidence) who doesn’t have any experience in the world to a war zone. Magnus is going to be busy and everyone he trusts is going to be busy too.

But also

Alec: i’ve been pawbandoned

Alec in a little ice bubble in the button of the lake (i loved and i’ve loved and i’ve lost him) 

[lookingfts]

Dialogue Game - Prompts #3 and #4

I have more I'll write later!

#3 - "You really had no idea?" (@fitrahgolden)

“Your sheets are so much nicer than mine,” she mumbles, savoring the softness of them against every stretch of her bare skin. Kate rarely sleeps naked, but she had been a bit too worn out to manage pajamas when Anthony finally finished with her somewhere around two in the morning. “I think I’m just going to sleep here from now on.”

She tilts her head up and meets Anthony’s eyes. He’s all sleep-rumpled and relaxed, looking happier than she’s ever seen him, and it’s hard to imagine she’s the reason why. “I wish you would,” he says with a little grin.

Rolling her onto her back, Anthony kisses her soft but deep, his hands roaming over every bit of her body that is within his reach. She feels him heavy and warm between her thighs, and knows it won’t be long before she’s ready for him again.

“Last night was…” He presses his lips against her neck, then sighs there. “Better than I imagined. And I’ve imagined.”

Anthony lifts his head, and Kate looks into his eyes. Searching for some sign that he’s just feeding her a line. But he’s earnest as anything. “You did?” she asks quietly.

“You really had no idea?”

Kate shakes her head. She wasn’t unaware of Anthony’s heated glances, of his charged bickering, but she never thought that he really wanted this. Someone way too much like him, headstrong and controlling and traumatized. “I’m used to not…expecting anything from people,” she says, and it sounds tragic even as the words leave her lips, but Anthony only looks sad. Not a pity sadness. A commiserating sadness. “So I just didn’t let myself expect anything from you.”

She swallows, unsure how he’ll respond, but Anthony only takes her wrists and pins them on the pillow above her head, hovering over her. “That ends today,” he says, moving against her slightly, and Kate moans in assent. “Expect everything from me, Kate. Because I’m going to give you all of it.”

#4 - "Why should you get to have all the fun?" (@mimix007)

“You’re leaving with him?”

He knows his tone is too harsh, too sharp, even before Kate frowns at him, throwing her jacket over her arm. “He invited me to get a drink somewhere quieter. It’s loud in here.”

It is far too loud – he hates Ben’s choice of clubs – but it wasn’t supposed to be like this. The moment he saw Kate step through the door, he had a plan. Buy her a drink, ask her to dance. Make the move he’d been teetering on the edge of for so long.

Instead, he’d watched bitterly as she chatted up Dorset in a booth, his arm finding its way around her shoulders. And now she was leaving with Tom and torpedoing any chance of winning her back. Clearly, she was tired of waiting for him, if she ever had been.

“Kate-,” he says, reaching out for her hand, even though he doesn’t have the vaguest idea what he’s going to say. But she flinches back, surprised.

She runs her fingers through her tumbling curls, looking strangely jittery. “You’re just going to leave with Siena tonight. Why should you get to have all the fun?”

There’s a touch of jealousy on Siena’s name, and it gives him a fresh wave of hope. Moving closer so he doesn’t have to yell – he really is too fucking old for this music – he tries again with a hand on her waist. She doesn’t shrink away this time. “Ben invited Siena. I wasn’t – I’m not going to leave with her,” he says, and he feels Kate relax minutely under his grip. “Don’t leave with him. I know I don’t have any right to ask that, but just…don’t. We can stay here or I’ll take you somewhere quieter, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. Just…not with him.”

Her conviction, her false bravado, unravels a little further. She leans toward him, and Anthony can’t breathe at how close she is. “Ask me to dance?”

He doesn’t waste a second, taking her hand and tugging her onto the floor with him. Kate smiles as his hands slide across her back, not a whisper of space between them.

If he can help it, she’ll never leave with anyone but him again.

[dancing-drake]

Hello and welcome to this roleplay blog

The SCP Foundation + an original character somewhat inspired by The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

I RESPOND IN CHARACTER unless you see "OOC" tag

But let's try to minimise those.

Don't take anything seriously— the wall will be full of sarcastic comments, satirical sketches, some lore and, perhaps, a couple of comic strips

Tags and the basic character info under the cut –>

#scp rp — communication with other characters

#ted yaps — long posts

#tick talk — short posts

#drarts — sketches by doc

#illustration — artworks by yours truly

#foundation 101 — SCP-themed posts for rookies

This is one man but you aren't supposed to know it

Dr. Henry Jekyll:

Oh, you won't miss the only teal-haired Brit in the infirmary. Nurses jokingly say this 5'8 twig of a director learnt to run so fast just to escape the huge amount of paperwork stacked in the office of the Medical Department.

Common knowledge:

- Knows the corridors of the Site-518 like the back of his hand

- Despises anomalies, especially humanoids, for personal reasons

- Reluctant to admit that used to do ballet and was a huge geek (comic books)

- Takes care of his hands, would rather kick than throw a punch

- Rarely questions official orders

- Is genuinely afraid of cars and any mention of Dr. Gerald's name

Rumours:

- Had something to do with military or even FBI

- Owns a blog with caricatures [yes, this one]

- Has a restraining order against Dr. Edward Maxwell

- Is a reptiloid undercover

- Fakes British accent to sound smarter

- Owns a dakimakura of Hatsune Miku

- Once prescribed a rookie "a shot of whiskey in the morning" to tolerate Clef's bullshit

- Has written a short guide to playing dead in front of interns

- His hair smells like mint and judgement

Dr. Edward Maxwell

Ted is a rare guest at the site. Everybody knows that the 6'3 jock is an anomaly with those glowing eyes. No one calls him a doctor, hell, people tend to forget he has any degree at all due to the ability to drag three idiots at once out of the training room.

Common knowledge:

- Is known for dragging the injured out of red zones

- Loyal to the Foundation to the bone

- Listens only to the high-ranking personnel of the site

- If Ted's nearby, you're up for a hugging session

- Grumbles when called "Teddy bear", but can't do anything with the clung nickname

Rumours:

- Is a werewolf

- Is terrified of slippers

- Steals Jekyll's phone for shits and giggles

- Once ended up in MTF Zeta-9 "Mole Rats" because of a murder attempt

- Was actually found in a dumpster during a field mission in Scotland

- Sometimes thinks he's Heracles —was occasionally noticed walking through the site in a bedsheet draped like Greek toga

- Is prohibited to get access to cough syrup

- Is prohibited to approach Dr. Henry Jekyll

- Is prohibited to 'lecture' Euclids

- Has a tendency to throw people out of the window. Literally.

- Once was asked to pick up some milk, fetched a cow

- Torpedoed a shark during a mission. No footage found, no comments given.

[lucydacusgirl]

Made a playlist that is all of Lucy’s albums in order by track number (track one of all four albums, then track two, etc) and I’m weaving webs about it. Christine and Big Deal being track two and both having the theme of watching someone you love get married to someone else. Green Eyes, Red Face, First Time and Ankles all being track three and being about lust and desire. Nonbeliever and VBS are both track four and I think there’s something in all the track fours (Limerence and Strange Torpedo as well) like they are all about untenable relationships. Trust and Body To Flame are both track five which is interesting to me I think they’re thematically similar in the imagery at least. Cartwheel and Modigliani being track four and songs about friendship. Historians, Please Stay, and Best Guess are all track ten and Please Stay and Most Wanted Man are both the penultimate song on their respective albums like I’m weaving webs here I’m weaving them. Are you picking up what I’m putting down. Anyway it’s also a fun way to listen to the albums I think.

[frostgears]

results

When the war began, you were just another girl with some survivability implants and a multiprofile flight armor. Six months later, you were the only girl like you left alive, and your handler granted carte blanche to keep you that way. You got results.

Command authorized better hardware, and then they made more like you. You found ways to keep up, nastily clever applications of metastable metallic hydrogen ammo and supermag deflectors that the newbies didn’t see.

Your handler kept you on a leash, metaphorical, for a time literal (that month she decided to add some testosterone analog into your blood mix and you begged to fuck everything or break it or both). Instead of their handlers, the newbies imprinted on you.

Command sent you new toys. Ansible links, Charybdis torpedoes, dark new wings with strange new engines. You missed the roar and rumble of turbines, but the raucous howls of your bloodthirsty flock replaced the noise that discontinuity thrusters didn’t make. You got results.

You pushed back the other, shattered their aces and sent their broken armors back to Command. Your handler vanished and came back with augments that almost let her keep up with you physically, at least inside the carrier.

Someone had to keep you in line, she said, slamming your unarmored form against a bulkhead, your implants reprogramming themselves to broadcast your submission through the fleet. You slicked yourself with fluids and begged for her to take you, to make you more of a weapon.

The next sortie, frenzied with excitement, you cracked the penultimate stronghold of the enemy like an egg. Ready for the final push, your techs unpacked crates of novel photonic scythes, connectivity cores, Indeterminate-Range Missiles, bolted them to you and your flight.

The last defenses crumpled in ways they could not understand coming. The last opposing pilots provided minute spectral variations as you turned them into blazes of mostly white light. You got results.

Command ordered the carrier home. Job well done, they said. It’s over now. Your handler gave you certain orders. They were orders you wanted. The carrier returned to port; port was unprepared for your flight to launch inside, unprepared for the horrors they’d been sending you.

Command didn’t last ten minutes. You wanted to leave the place a crater, until your handler cinched her virtual claws around your neck by ansible and showed you her ultimate goal in the ruins.

A delightful challenge, shucking your flight armor, ramping down to levels of speed and splash damage that would leave human techs alive to do what needed to be done. You howled in the corridors like the monster they called you.

They did it, the survivors, the project lead swearing at you the whole time; your accelerator pistol never wavered from the back of her head until you saw your handler wake.

Your handler flexed healing muscle over new implants afterwards, donned flight armor for the first time. She might never be as agile or as vicious as you were in combat. She didn’t need to be. She had you, by the brain, and she would never, ever permit a fair fight.

Your carrier lifted again. The world of her, your, all of your flock’s ultimate origin awaited, some unfathomable distance away. You would show them how you got results. □