ISSUE #5

name one hero who was happy — i'm going to be the first MALCOLM LEE. 21. gryffindor. 4th upper yr.

[crichigo-blog]

* save me

[crmalcolm-blog]

crichigo‌:

( ... )

“the supervisors are looking for you,” he says, putting out the light on his wand with the nox spell and then folding his arms over his chest again. “by the sound of it, they should be keeping you on a leash.” suddenly he remembers the 'furry’ thing from months ago and he instantly regrets his wording. just think once before you speak, please, he begs himself, grimacing lightly. but he quickly changes the subject as malcolm finally looks over at him: “what are you doing out here, anyway?”

so.

he’s lost.

… maybe not. that sounds really harsh. lost. it’s more like malcolm has currently gone off-track and isn’t where he would ideally like to be. the wilderness is wilder than he expected; when malcolm first broke away from his group to look at a demonic bird, he didn’t think it’d be hard to find his way back to them. all he had to do was follow the path, right? but when he turned back, the path had vanished, having been swallowed up but the thick foliage and the debris on the forest floor. malcolm could swear it happened instantaneously. trying to retrace his steps, he wandered around for a little while before giving up and leaning against a tree. literally, fuck you, nature.

it’s been… several hours since he came to the realization that he’d been… gently misdirected, and malcolm is starting to think that he might die here. despite trying a myriad of spells, the path back to the rest of the group remains frustrating elusive and, more importantly, he’s hungry. he’s starving. the sounds his stomach is making sound like a weird bird mating call and he’s been attacked three times by horny avian monsters already. malcolm is bleeding from places he shouldn’t be and he can’t remember a single healing spell to help with the pain. at this point, he’s given up all hopes of reaching civilization.

the only thing on his mind is survival.

“one man, at the mercy of mother nature…” narrating his journey into the forest for food, water, and shelter, malcolm feels like the dude who does voice overs for nature documentaries. “will he last the night? or will the wilderness devour him whole? stay tuned to find out.” talking to himself makes malcolm feel better. at the very least, it gives him the illusion of being less alone out here. … and it really is awfully lonely. malcolm can make it through almost anything, he thinks, except being on his own. but he pushes those thoughts aside. he’s not truly alone if his forest friends are out here with him, right? snakes and birds and… merlin knows what else. “our intrepid hero’s body was never found… angels wept at his funeral…”

he finally reaches a clearing—a little to exposed for his liking, but there’s a river which means water and fish. with a small grin, malcolm makes his way over to the water and crouches down. once he mutters a spell to check it it’s safe to drink, malcolm scoops some water up in both palms and drinks his fill. he can survive on this if nothing else, but his rumbling stomach reminds him that he would like to get some food as well. his reflexes should be fast enough to catch a fish, right? but malcolm doesn’t want to risk falling in. it’s going to get cold at night; if he’s wet to boot, he’s going to suffer. and he really just… doesn’t want to suffer, thanks.

hmmmm… wait, he’s a wizard. that’s right, he’s a fucking wizard. giddy with excitement, malcolm pulls out his wand and tries to remember a fishing spell. accio should work, but he’s—

his musings are cut short by a gust of wind that almost sends malcolm toppling into the water. he manages to stay on dry land, but his wand doesn’t fare as well. it slips from his hand into the water, and he barely lets out a frantic “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” before it’s swept away out of his reach. malcolm’s life flashes in front of his eyes in that moment, and his future is extremely short: in this version, he gets eaten by a chimera or something. it even swallows the bones and shits them out later. tears sting the corner of his eyes. he doesn’t want to be shat out!

as he’s about to sink into despair, he hears a fair voice calling his name. who could possibly—“is that you, god?” malcolm calls out, looking up at the sky. no response, and he goes back to looking at the water forlornly, lamenting the loss of his wand. how the fuck is he going to—how is he even—

he hears a voice again, closer this time, and annoying familiar. it’s not god or even an angel but a different kind of person altogether. squinting, malcolm raises his head to find the last person he ever thought he’d see out here standing but a few feet away. “sonoda?” maybe he’s dead and this is a dream. “strawberry boy?” why the fuck would ichigo be here of all places? they might be on the same trip, but malcolm has barely seen him this entire time. he hasn’t even talked to ichigo, period, after the weirdness of that whole thing. malcolm… doesn’t know what to say. doesn’t know what he wants to hear, either. he’s not stupid; he figured out why ichigo was acting so strange back then, but part of him wants to hope… just…

shaking his head, he forces a smile and takes the low road, because it’s always easier to act stupid and stay away from serious emotions with ichigo. “oh? you wanna leash me? that’s so…” he pauses and licks his lips. “kinky. i love a dom.” malcolm keeps his expression neutral for a second before looking away with a sigh. damn, he can’t even fuck with ichigo properly right now. “i’m having an adventure, sonoda. fun times in nature. i’m roleplaying survivor. or maybe naked and afraid, but it got too cold.” he’s rambling, but malcolm doesn’t want to admit he’s…

“fine, i got lost.” the admission is followed by a pout as he crosses his arms over his chest. “and i might have, maybe, dropped my wand into the river, a little bit.” merlin, this is hard. “but other than that, i’m good. enjoying myself. it’s nice out here.” a gust of wind sweeps through and malcolm shivers. “compared to antarctica.”  

[crdane-blog1]

dungeons and dragons

[crmalcolm-blog]

crvince:

( ... )

dane should be rewarded really, for not tuning out to that entire speech given to them about how dragons nesting habits… he thinks, saying that his hands itched to pull out his phone and check his notifications. he gives the dragons the real props though, because dragons are interesting. people are not. and when they’re given the go ahead, his feet automatically move him to find and circle around a nest that looks interesting enough. “do you guys think that… if we touched the eggs the dragon’s will send us blasting like team rocket,” he directs to his roommates over his shoulder, “because the guys were really vague about that part.”

( ... )

“probably burn you to crisps,” vincent responds nonchalantly as he too steps closer to the est. eyes are watchful of the dragons. certainly majestic but what trickles in between is a slow tick downwards of time to an eventual calamity. “come over here we have some respect to show.”

malcolm has less of a clue of what the fuck is going on than normal, which is pretty surprising considering he’s usually only 50% checked in (give or take) during occasions such as this one. what kind of a vacation trip involves a) waking up before 10 am with or without a hangover and b) learning? malcolm wants the name of whoever planned this so he can square up with them right now. even if he loses that fight, at least he’ll be knocked out and not have to do this.

it’s with a scowl on his normally genial face that he trudges out to the valley with the rest of his roommates, nursing both a headache and a serious case of bedhead (among other things). malcolm has to admit that the view is pretty and all, and dragons are a pretty interesting subject, but nowhere did the instructors say he could ride them, so what good are they really? he’s secretly dozing off a little as his roommates examine one of the dragon nests, but starts at the mention of crisps. “crisps? does someone have crisps? i’m hungry.”

wait, okay, not what they were talking about, but the point still stands. malcolm shuffles over to where vincent stands and peers at the dragons with narrowed eyes. “d’you think they’d let me ride them? like i know it’s not allowed, but it would be pretty nuts, right?” maybe he can hijack a dragon. maybe they’ll become friends like toothless and hiccup. maybe he’ll save the viking world from certain destruction with the power of FRIENDSHIP. or something. it would be more interesting than studying.

[coruscorp-blog]

RELATIONSHIP BUILDING

[crmalcolm-blog]

coruscorp:

Send ⭐️ (or multiple) for a headcanon about our muses. Send ☎ for your muse’s info in my muses phone (name, ringtone, picture, last text received/sent). Send 🎼 for a song that reminds me of our muses. Send 👋 for three things that describe our muses relationship. Send 👂 to overhear my muse talking about yours. Send 👤+ a muse name for my muse’s opinion on that muse (with the other muse/mun’s permission). Send 😍 for my muse to tell yours three things they love about them. Send 💤 for my muse to say something about yours in their sleep. Send 📖 for my muse to read out an entry in their journal/diary about yours. Send ✉ for a written letter from my muse. Send📱for a voicemail my muse left yours. Send 🌀 for my muse’s reaction to getting stuck in a storm with yours. Send 🍺 for my muses drunk reaction around yours. Send 💰 for your muse to ask mine for money. Send ✔️ for a daydream my muse has had about/involving yours. Send 👀 for my muse to compliment yours Send 💋 for how my muse would seduce/flirt with yours. Send  👏 and what your muse will do to fluster mine. Send 😙 for my muse’s reaction to yours being super affectionate. Send 🍵 and my muse will reveal one of their biggest regrets involving yours. Send 😶 and my muse will confess to something they wish they didn’t do that affected your muse.

[xdajoker]

[feysang]

»»—   ҉    initiate;

[crmalcolm-blog]

crmatthew:

( ... )

“yo!” he greets the younger boy warmly. “you stuck in here alone?” matthew peers inside, sees the shape of someone lying on their bed. “uh… mostly alone–  but what’re you doing? you can’t come on vacation just to sit around!” he steps to the side, indicating for elliott to come out. “the other group’s already left, but we’re good ‘cause malcolm is a new zealand-ian and he definitely knows the coolest places to go.” well. he thinks. malcolm hasn’t exactly said so but matthew just assumed he knows everything. “bring a sweater,” he adds, not giving elliott much of a chance to reject them. 

being in new zealand is surreal, not in the weird freaky art movement way, but in the sense that malcolm can look around at the scenery, breathe in that chilly air, and feel like he’s nine years old again. in a lot of ways, it feels like coming home—even though his home in is wellington, not auckland, and try as he might, he can’t even visualize it—but it’s home, sort of. he mentions as much to matthew offhandedly through a mouthful of chicken wings, not really thinking much of it. it doesn’t really affect anything aside from his own feelings of nostalgia.

but matthew seems to think it gives him some kind of Authority. and malcolm is cool with being an all-important, full-of-hot-air Authoritative Person… for the most part. like, he feels he should tell matthew that he only has the vaguest memory of being here and sure as fuck does not know how to read a map, so maybe they shouldn’t be so quick to ditch the rest of their peers to fetch their newly adopted chick-a-dee, but also, fuck it. #yolo and all that.

trailing behind matthew as he head off to fetch elliott, malcolm shoves his hands in his pockets and leans against the wall, letting matthew take care of the introductions. he only pokes his head through the door when he hears his name. “yep,” he says cheerily, giving the younger boy a two-fingered wave. “he’s right; i’m gonna be your pet kiwi for the night.” hmmm, that sounds weird. “er, your tour guide, that is.” malcolm tries to sling an arm around matthew’s shoulders—and fails because the guy is just too tall—before giving up. “we’re going to grab some snacks and maybe see what shit we can get up to. participation is not optional!”

lowering his voice, he beckons the two to lean closer and adds, “this is part of your initiation ritual, kay?”

[crmalcolm-blog]

as you can see i’m trying to slowly get back into the swing of things so...! i’d love to get more plots going, whether for the event or just in general. please like this post if you’re interested and i’ll hop into your ims!

[crmalcolm-blog]

“ an accident? is that what you’re going with?”

you’ve got mail ! ( accepting )

if there’s one thing malcolm has learned over the years at hogwarts, it’s that people ( especially slytherins ) rarely ask questions to which they don’t already know the answer to. not all rhetorical questions have ill intent, but malcolm doesn’t think anyone can look at shiro sumeragi and think him benign. calling him dangerous would be giving him more credit that he deserves, but he’s on the list of people malcolm refuses to let his guard down around. shiro is unsavory; he leaves a bad taste in malcolm’s mouth.

( you hate him for different reasons, the rational part of his brain says. you hate him because he replaced— 

it’s a thought he doesn’t have time to entertain ).  

he might be a bit of a dumbass, but he’s not stupid enough to admit to whatever shiro is insinuating here. crossing his arms over his chest, malcolm leans against the cold stone wall and frowns. “i don’t know what you mean,” he says, shrugging. “it was an accident; everyone else agreed it wasn’t on purpose.” malcolm’s a bit surprised himself that all the bystanders were inclined to side with him; he didn’t really make a point to hide his intent, but biased eyes see what they want to, he supposes. better for him—he can almost convince himself he’s not petty enough to willfully jinx a rival in full view of his classmates.  

“i didn’t mean to jinx you specifically.” but nothing about his stance is apologetic. in fact, the stubborn set of his jaw could be seen as a challenge, if shiro cared to. “the spell just went haywire. dueling’s not my strong suit.” a good lie is always contains a grain of truth. he shrugs and tucks his wand back into his robes. “no hard feelings, right?” uncrossing his arms, he holds a hand out for shiro to shake so they can ‘reconcile.’ whether he wants to or not is a different story. 

[crmalcolm-blog]

“ and what happened next?”

you’ve got mail ! ( accepting )

“so then i went like, whoooosh.” malcolm mimes taking off at a very high speed and accidentally knocks over a glass of water in his haste. “whoa, shit. whoops.” pulling out his wand, he siphons up the spill as best he can before resuming with his story. “but there was a wall in the way, right? so i went skkkkkkrt—” and here his makeshift hand rocket slams into an imaginary wall, accompanied by malcolm’s best imitation of a horrifying screech, the kind that produces broken bones with it. “and i thought i was gonna die, but somehow i managed to get my broom to go shwip!” hand-rocket hops over the imaginary wall this time and lands back on the table with a satisfying thump.

“and that’s how i got away with stealing the painting of sir cadogan.” he finishes with a triumphant grin. it was truly an intense and harrowing experience, and definitely the most important one of his sixth year. as far malcolm knows, no one seems to have noticed—or they’re just glad the senile old knight is gone. regardless, he’s pretty proud of what he accomplished. he may have spent over a month in the hospital after that, but he pulled it off! 

“he’s hanging in my bedroom now,” he continues, folding his hands on top of the table. “bit of a prick, though, ole sir cadogan. he yells at all my muggle posters.”

[crmalcolm-blog]

“ stop lying. i already know that’s not what happened.”

you’ve got mail ! ( accepting )

“bold of you to assume i can lie,” malcolm says, rubbing his chin in serious contemplation. what he assumes is serious contemplation, anyway. frankly, he’s never contemplated anything seriously enough to be able to do this gesture with any sort of sincerity. feeling sheepish, he lowers his arm and tucks it into his pockets. “honestly, dude. i’m not lying. lying is for cowards and slytherins.” there’s no bite behind the taunt, just a tentative playfulness he hopes won’t accidentally piss eric off. or, piss him off more than he already is.

wait a minute. malcolm narrows his eyes. “i don’t even know what you’re accusing me off, what the hell.” denial was instinctual, but as far as he knows, he hasn’t done anything eric would have such a reaction to. maybe he got people mixed up. maybe matt did something weird. matt… mal… it’s all the same, right? loud gryffindor squad, unite. “do you wanna fight, mr. eric? is that it? are you looking for an excuse to throw the fuck down?” he puts his fists up in a mock-fighting position. “let’s brawl.”  

( he doesn’t actually want to fight eric, but in absence of Stuff That Makes Sense, violence solves all problems.

this is a bad philosophy ).

[crmalcolm-blog]

“ sorry. no deal.”

you’ve got mail ! ( accepting )

“dude.” this is all kinds of unfair. malcolm is laying it all on the line here, if by ‘all’ means the contents of his wallet and ‘the line’ is the slytherin house table. ‘laying it’ is also just a haphazard spread of several knuts, a couple of sickles, and a single galleon meant to entice han into grand theft muggle—which is a working title. the minute malcolm thinks of a better one, he’s making edits. it was probably a good idea to hold off on the commemorative tshirts, in that regard. “listen, this could benefit the both of us.”

he fails to mention how, choosing instead to pause meaningfully, hoping han comes to his own conclusions. if malcolm actually had more time to plan this out better, he could’ve come up with a laundry list worth of stuff, but this was, like many things, born of impulse. “i heard you like poptarts. i too like poptarts.” it all comes back to poptarts. “the thing is, i’m banned from a couple of muggle supermarkets, so i would like, really appreciate it if you could help me stock up?”

so maybe it’s not grand theft muggle as much as a heist? but one where you pay for the stuff you want to take. whatever. logistics. “you can keep some of the boxes if you want! and i have coupons!” how can you say no to coupons? he gives han his best puppy dog eyes and clasps his hands together pleading. “please? i’ll owe you for life.”

[crmalcolm-blog]

“ it’s okay. you can tell me.”

you’ve got mail ! ( accepting )

malcolm buries his face in his hands. “but i don’t want to,” he half-growls, half-whines. on the long list of Things That Are The Absolute Worst, this recent development is in contention for number two. maybe number one, but it hasn’t been long enough since the fateful proclamation for it to rise that high. he’ll reevaluate once a couple of weeks have passed and he’s ass deep in withdrawal, but for now, it’s the number two Absolute Worst Thing in the world.

honestly? malcolm doesn’t want to acknowledge it. he’d like to pretend that if he ignores this virtual death sentence long enough, it’ll be lifted. of course, this kind of shit doesn’t work like that, but he wants to pretend. malcolm would even be willing to live in blissful ignorance if it weren’t for the fact that, by some miracle or the grace of god, he passed his exams and is now a fourth year. that kind of progress ( power? ) requires a certain degree of maturity.

and maturity means owning up to your faults. or something like that.

malcolm raises his head after a moment of agonizing silence, his eyes pointed away from the plate of cookies alice has on hand. fuck, they look so good—but no, he has to stay strong. be mature. own up to the fact that—”okay fine,” he says heavily. “i have… some cavities.” he spits the word out like it’s toxic. “and my dentist said i can’t eat sweet things until i get them fixed.” he might as well have told malcolm to keel over and DIE. “what did i do to deserve this?”

[coruscorp-blog]

INTERROGATION STARTERS

Feel free to change pronouns etc. CALM / QUESTIONING.

“ tell me, what happened?” “ did you see anything?” “ what do you remember?” “ do you remember anything unusual?” “ please, try to remember as much as you can.” “ every detail is important.” “ and what happened next?” “ and what did you do when all this took place?” “ what were you doing around __ am/pm?” “ where were you around __ am/pm?” “ can anyone verify that?” “ was someone with you?” “ and you had nothing to do with it?” “ and you weren’t involved?” “ did you see it happen?” “ did you see who did it?” “ did you see or hear anything? anything at all?”

CARING / UNDERSTANDING.

“ you seem scared… is that why you don’t want to talk?” “ did someone hurt you?” “ it’s okay. you can tell me.” “ you were just trying to defend yourself, weren’t you?” “ we can take a break, if you want.” “ everything will be okay, i promise. but you need to talk to me.” “ it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. but it really would help if you did.”

SUSPICIOUS.

“ there is something you’re not telling me.” “ i think you’re lying.” “ you looked away just now when you said that. are you sure you’re telling the truth?” “ except what you’re telling me doesn’t align with what we already know.” “ seems to me like you know more than you’re letting in on.” “ what aren’t you telling me?” “ who are you trying to protect?” “ so you really don’t know what any of it means? no clue at all?” “ they must’ve told you more than that.” “ you have to have seen more than that.” “ and you want me to believe you don’t remember?” “ and you want me to believe you had nothing to do with it?” “ an accident? is that what you’re going with?”

DEMANDING.

“ i need you to tell me the truth.” “ i need you to tell me what happened.” “ i know you’re not telling me the truth.” “ that doesn’t line up with the evidence. so… you wanna try that again?” “ stop lying. i already know that’s not what happened.”

MAKING A DEAL / ASKING FOR HELP / DEMANDING HELP.

“ what do you want in exchange for this information?” “ i’m listening…” “ you’re coming with me.” “ since you’re the only one who knows how to find them, i don’t really have a choice but to take you with me.” “ fine. i’ll take you with me, but if you try anything…” “ i can’t give you that. you know that.” “ if we’re going to make a deal, you’re gonna have to ask for something a little more rational than that.” “ okay. we have a deal.” “ sorry. no deal.”

[crmalcolm-blog]

crxavis:

( ... )

“chaotic baby lion friend?” avis nearly teared up at the table. this was too much for so early. “that is.. malcolm, this is the cutest thing you’ve ever said to me. this is a friendship landmark. this is hooter worthy.” she stood immediately to run around the edge of the table and attack him with a hug where she stayed attached like a little love leech. “can we go fly?” she asked when she finally let go of her (kind of disgruntled, but he was used to her displays of affection) friend. “pretty pleeeeaaseeeeeeee???”

if it was socially acceptable for a man his age to stick his tongue out at someone, he would’ve done so several times by now. nothing quite captures the wide range of emotions malcolm wants to express as well as the tongue-sticking-out-with-a-crazy-eye emoji. maybe he’ll just text them to avis later, paired with an obnoxious meme. the moment will have passed, but emojis are eternal.

malcolm knows avis can take care of herself against a horde of angry girls and a horde of rampaging chimeras. she’s tough—tougher than he gives her credit for, sometimes. but even tough badasses need people to help them out every now and then. that’s what sidekicks are for! not that he’s calling himself a sidekick here or anything. malcolm is batman while avis can be robin or batgirl—whatever she wants. “don’t bring the weird sisters into this! they’re going to release the album soon, okay? i can feel it in my bones.” malcolm doesn’t fuck around when it comes to the weird sisters. no way.

mhmmm, yeah. it’s too early to entertain all the possible ramifications of that idea. malcolm closes his eyes and sighs, then snaps them open and stands up, his cutlery banging against the empty plate. “please don’t post that on hooter; i have a rep,” he says, then grins, his eyes lighting up at the mention of the word ‘fly.’ “but yeah, grab your broom and let’s channel your destructive energy into something productive, kid.”

[crmalcolm-blog]

@crichigo ( from here )

( ... )

“why would i dream about you?” it comes off like his regular snark at first, though his tone is much softer. and then, even more unusual, a faint, calm smile appears on his lips as he tilts his head slightly. “i only dream of being with mother...” 

malcolm doesn’t know what he expects. doesn’t know what he’s looking for from ichigo. most days, malcolm’s content with acknowledgement: knowing that ichigo remembers he exists, knowing that if there’s one constant in his life he can rely on, it’s ichigo’s biting hatred (and even that is better than nothing). maybe it’s stupid—no, it’s definitely stupid to find some kind of comfort in your nemesis—but malcolm likes knowing that he means something to someone he car—uh, has a complicated relationship with. sure.

scratching the tips of his ears, malcolm waits for the retort to hit him. gimmie something that’ll make me cry, ichigo, he thinks, the corners of his mouth lifting in glee. but something is off about his rival almost from the moment he turns—something missing in his eyes. not ire, not frustration, not even exhaustion at having to deal with malcolm’s bullshit. ichigo looks almost at peace; it’s an expression he’s never seen on the slytherin’s face before. and as if that isn’t strange enough, a smile appears on his lips slowly.

for a moment, malcolm forgets how to breathe. how long has it been since—how long has he seen ichigo smile, much less at him? and not when he’s in pain either, but—

malcolm force-restarts his heart. “you, uh.” genuinely rendered speechless by ichigo’s tone and expression, malcolm flounders for what to say next. “you feeling homesick or something, sonoda?” it comes off as more of a question of concern than he intended it to. “do you… miss your mom?” maybe this is like a breakthrough of some kind. maybe ichigo finally remembers they aren’t supposed to hate each other.

[crxcas]

— reparo.

[crmalcolm-blog]

crxcas:

( ... )

after one more minute of deliberation, he finally moves a piece. though rather than taking one of the other’s last pieces, he sets malcolm up to take an important one of his—castor could only pray that the other third year would take the bait though. “your move.” he offers quietly, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back to observe the other’s actions. all the while, he hoped that the game would end soon so that he could go back to his dorm and not think of chess strategies for the next couple of hours—or weeks.

malcolm likes anything that involves wanton destruction.

wizard chess definitely qualifies. the whole point of the game is to get your guys to beat up the other person’s guys, or something like that. the thing is, malcolm doesn’t understand wizard chess and is comfortable admitting it, but he believes you don’t need to understand something to win. you either have the instinct or you don’t. he never thought chess would be angling towards the ‘don’t’ pile; board games are probably his only natural strength. ideally, he should amazing at this, a young and virile chess god.

instead, he’s currently looking at a 3-0 loss to mr. ‘i am a ravenclaw and therefore inherently smarter and better at everything than you are.’ and fine, maybe that’s true, but it does nothing to help malcolm’s frustration. if it weren’t for the fact that he actually liked castor as a person (outside of chess-related things), he would’ve done an epic table flip and stomped away. and, you know, the fact that gryffindors did not accept failure! especially not gryffindors named malcolm lee. he’s determined to walk away with at least one win.

stroking his chin in what he assumes is an intellectual manner, malcolm leans forward and squints at the board. his previous strategy was to eliminate all the pieces he could as quickly as possible… which led to him losing, so maybe he needs to do something a little different. alright. maybe instead he can—no, no, no. that won’t work either. the awkward back and forth of malcolm reaching for a piece before thinking better of it and pulling away continues on for several more minutes until he finally screws his eyes shut and moves on instinct. “okay! going for it!”

malcolm opens his eyes slowly and stares at the board. nothing really happens except his bishop moving somewhere else and, uh, does that mean something? “did i get it? did i win?” he asks, looking at castor hopefully. a full on, bright-eyed, puppy dog look of desperation and pleading. please, he wants to win so bad.

(the fact that he has castor in check at the moment is complete and utter coincidence).

[crmalcolm-blog]

ayo waddup krease. 

malcolm wants to START A BAND. all things considered, this is a fucking terrible idea but he thinks it would be 1) fun and 2) cool, so we’re going for it!! 

this isn’t a formal recruitment post or anything since i figure that would be best left until after the event is over, but consider this a general interest check?? if your muse can play an instrument or is musically inclined in any way and might be interested in joining a band in the new school year, hmu and we can work out the details! 

[crmalcolm-blog]

animal whisperer

✨ a spell for @crxripley

it is a truth universally acknowledged that any man deep in the dregs of boredom will do some real stupid shit. 

malcolm is that man. the real stupid shit is sneaking out of the castle after curfew to the forbidden forest adjacent area. not into the forest itself, nah. he might be a dumbass, but he doesn’t have a death wish. ever since he heard a rumor about the size and state of certain eight legged friends residing somewhere deep in the trees, he’s been cautious about the forest. the last thing he wants is to run into a spider or some weird beast like that. he’s not really sure if spiders can eat people but… you gotta assume, right? 

he has a specific mission in mind anyway. no time to really fuck around with like… spiders or evil unicorns or whatever’s lurking in the forest. he just needs to get into the area where the magical creatures for tomorrow’s lesson are kept—he heard they’re supposed to be taking care of blast-ended skrewts, but having never seen them before, he’s curious and wants to get a leg up on the the rest of the competition. you know, make friends with the skrewts as best he can so during class tomorrow, he looks like a real animal whisperer. yeah, animal champion malcolm? he can get behind that. 

it’s not as tough to find the skrewts as he expected; they’re still young, about three feet in length. or they’re pretty old and he has no idea what these things are supposed to look like. they’re not really cute or endearing in any way ( a dim part of his brain informs him that they kinda look like dinner ), but it’s never good to judge by appearances right? he can still bond and connect with these, uh, creatures. 

but in his eagerness to try and pick one up, malcolm accidentally trods on another and lets out a hoarse cry when its ass fucking explodes. sparks catch on the hem of his robe and malcolm scrambles to pat them out before he can go up in flames while yelling incoherently. amidst his panic, he can hear some footsteps approaching. 

shit, shit, shit—his cover is fucking blown. mission failed?