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Yuletide 2020, Social Media Fics
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2020-12-25
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History says: here are the blankets, layer on layer, down and down

Summary:

It’s 'The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants' except he’s the pants—wait, or is he the sisterhood? Well, that metaphor didn’t really land, did it?

Let’s try it again.

He may not always know where he’s going, but he always winds up where he needs to be.

There. That’s a bit better. Kinda. Eh, it’s not like he hasn’t got all the time in the world to workshop it.

Literally.

(Unless that genie does something else… Oh, he’d like to see that good-for-nothing scoundrel try.)

Notes:

So I really took your general likes of in-universe documentation and unusual formats to heart and this is what happened. Because why not? THERE'S SO MUCH LORE TO PLAY WITH. The Professor is truly a myth and a legend and the ultimate cryptid. I had a blast working on this and I really wish I had more time to do a deeper dive because I had so many ideas that I barely even got to touch (which NEVER happens). Ah, well there's always sequels. I hope you enjoy and have a fabulous Yuletide and a wonderful New Year!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

You know, he wasn't always The Professor.

No, dear Reader, once upon a time, he was The Scholar. The Student. The Pupil. The Learner. Well, you get the gist. It varies from individual, but the essence remains the same—someone who needs to learn, someone who craves knowledge. No matter what the cost. 

(And sometimes that cost is a foolish deal with a rotten, rotten genie who doesn’t know how to leave well enough alone. Ahem. Where was he again? Right, how’d he get to be The Professor...)

What Ryan and all the others don't seem to quite yet grasp is that The Professor is an earned title: a rank, so to speak. One that took literal centuries, maybe even millennia at this point (it gets a little hazy as non-linear timelines tend to be, especially with faulty time machines from genies who absolutely cannot be trusted), to attain.

As far as he can tell, he’s the only one who’s made it, but in theory anyone can be The Professor. There are no limitations or predeterminations...they just have to get there.

He’ll find another one day. Maybe even many others. He’s sure of it.

---

An excerpt from Cryptids in Great Works of Art by Prasomni Mathogan

Chapter IV: The Professor in Plain Sight 

Georges Seurat’s A Sunday on La Grande Jatte (1884) with a hand drawn circle highlighting a small blue figure suspected to be The Professor.

[Image Description: Georges Seurat’s A Sunday on La Grande Jatte (1884) with a hand drawn circle highlighting a small blue figure suspected to be The Professor.]

 

Georges Seurat has been quoted by one of his contemporaries as seeing an odd furry creature of “shockingly blue” color during one of his excursions to the River Seine, where he would often sit meticulously sketching and observing the park goers. You may recall this most famous work— A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte —in that iconic museum scene in Ferris Bueller's Day Off. 

Close-up of circled figure

[Image Description: Close-up of circled figure] 

 

If you look very closely, you should be able to spot a dash of blue that’s a tinge brighter than the rest of the painting. Most scholars believe that the spot of blue is merely a child’s toy, though others have argued the vivid shade is highly unlikely for a stuffed animal or doll of the time period. 

According to his friend, Seurat only had a single glimpse of the form, but knew in his heart that it was alive and no ordinary creature like a dog, of which there are many in the painting, or even a monkey (as seen in the foreground).

Katsushika Hokusai’s Under the Wave off Kanagawa (Kanagawa oki nami ura), also known as The Great Wave, from the series Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji (Fugaku sanjūrokkei).  

[Image Description: Katsushika Hokusai’s Under the Wave off Kanagawa (Kanagawa oki nami ura), also known as The Great Wave, from the series Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji (Fugaku sanjūrokkei)

In this close-up, the shape believed to be The Professor is circled, while multiple annotations mark the other figures in the painting, who are crouched and clinging to the wooden boats they’re on. 

[Image Description: In this close-up, the shape believed to be The Professor is circled, while multiple annotations mark the other figures in the painting, who are crouched and clinging to the wooden boats they’re on.]

 

One of the most famous pieces of Japanese art, The Great Wave off Kanagawa, often comes up among cryptozoologists as perhaps depicting multiple instances of potential companions of The Professor. The clearest subject is widely accepted as The Professor, but the identity of the others depicted on the wooden boats are a constant point of contention within the field. One of the prevailing theories is that the individuals are prisoners of The Professor and the countering one predicates that they are more akin to minions, perhaps even worshippers, there entirely by choice. 

The first theory posits that the figures in blue are kneeling, bound and tied to one another, unable to move as they travel across the water, violently tossing against the waves as a form of torture or perhaps for The Professor’s own twisted amusement. A few academics have even compared it to ritual initiation, not unlike the activities some of you might encounter as part of Greek life. 

The other suggests that everyone is there of their own volition—the blue garb symbolizing their devotion and loyalty to The Professor. This theory argues that the figures are merely rowers sitting near one another and clinging to the oars as a result of the great wave, not because they do not have the freedom of movement.   

---

Let it be forgotten for ever and ever,

Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.

Sara Teasdale

---

Taken from recovered case file

Subject: Kate Peterman | Intake date: [redacted]

PARTIAL TRANSCRIPT OF RECORDED INTERVIEW

 

Kate Peterman: You know, “cult” is such a strong word. And all those negative connotations...

Agent [name redacted]: Of course, Ms. Peterman. *sound of a notebook being flipped through* I don’t mean to imply anything of the sort. I’m merely using your wording from our previous conversation. We can change up the phrasing if you’d feel more comfortable.

KP: Hmm. Yeah, let’s do that. I prefer “enthusiast” or something more along those lines. I think that makes it sound a bit better.

Agent: Duly noted. 

KP: It’s like “horse girls.”

[pause]

Agent: Could you elaborate a bit further on what you mean by that?

KP: For sure... So “horse girls” and let me just say I’m totally not ashamed to admit I was one growing up. And maybe a tiny bit still. A lot less Lisa Frank rainbow horses and unicorns in my daily aesthetic tragically. But yeah, I’d say it’s like being a “horse girl,” except I put stickers of The Professor on my notebooks and laptop...

Agent: I think I’m beginning to understand...

KP: ...and yeah, I may have Google alerts set up for any and all possible sightings of The Professor, but who doesn’t? 

Agent: Sure.

KP: ...And I wouldn’t call my little corner nook a shrine per se, but it does have a candle and two cute mini trophies filled with jelly beans...uh, is this all being recorded? I mean, I obviously don’t mind talking to you like we have been, but I’m starting to feel like this is super embarrassing and do you mind if I just...

[unidentified sound]

Agent: What are you trying to—Kate!

KP: Oh shit, sor— 

[unidentified sound]

[glass breaking]

[end of recording]  

---

It’s The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants except he’s the pants—wait, or is he the sisterhood? Well, that metaphor didn’t really land, let’s try it again. 

He may not always know where he’s going, but he always winds up where he needs to be. 

There. That’s a bit better. Kinda. Eh, it’s not like he hasn’t got all the time in the world to workshop it. 

Literally.

(Unless that genie does something else… Oh, he’d like to see that good-for-nothing scoundrel try.) 

---

[Newspaper clipping from 1992 with the headline: The Professor: Evil Incarnate or a Victim of Mistaken Identity? ]

---

[Breaking News: Foul Demon or Cruel Joke? Entire nation on high alert as "The Professor" spotted on U.S. shores once again]

[Breaking news: Foul Demon or Cruel Joke? Entire nation on high alert as "The Professor" spotted on U.S. shores once again]

---

[Reddit post from 2020: STEP ASIDE, GRITTY - THERE’S A NEW FUZZY ANTIFA LEGEND IN TOWN AND HIS NAME IS THE PROFESSOR]

---

Clip from MythFeed.com

Top 10 Cryptids We'd Love to Crack a Cold One With 

(and unfortunately Gritty doesn't count or else he'd be the entire damn list lbr)

 

#3 Cactus Cat

What do you get when you combine a cactus and a cat? A DOPE DRINKING BUDDY, THAT’S FUCKING WHAT. (Or at the very least an incredibly convenient supplier of alcohol if you’re in the Southwest.) 

Now we don't know a lot about these felines, but legend has it, they resemble bobcats with spines or thorns across their bodies. The best part? Knife-like blades on their front legs used to hack at cacti to get at the sap, which ferments into a tasty beverage. 

The only reason these spiky kitties aren’t our top pick is because they’re said to get a little...feisty once hammered from that sweet, sweet pulque. Let’s leave the rest to your imagination. Or y’know, Google it, you pervert. 

 

#2 Bigfoot 

Honestly, it was a close one between Bigfoot and our #1 contender. Our runner up has definitely got the chillest vibes of all the cryptids on our list. I mean, they’re living that natural, hippie life and minding their own business: that’s the type of energy the world desperately needs. 

While the plan is definitely to share a brewski or two with our hairy primate pal, there’s probably a pretty good chance that Bigfoot would be down to blaze it and stare at the stars with you. And maybe you’re sharing a blanket, cuddling while a toasty campfire crackles next to you both. Or is that too romantic? 

*slowly pushes away notebook that says I <3 Bigfoot*

 

#1 THE PROFESSOR

And to The Professor goes the spoils. What’s not to love? Pint-sized and cuddly-looking as hell, The Professor has gotta be our one and only dream drinking buddy. 

He’s an amazing storyteller so who wouldn’t want to share a fancy cocktail or two with him? Not to mention the puppet’s got a satchel full of jelly beans for crying out loud. Snacks for daysssss.

While the constant name-dropping might get annoying from literally anyone else—he’s experienced it all and then some so he gets the ultimate pass. Also, can you imagine if you’re out with The Professor and run into Leonardo da Vinci or the freaking Donner Party (er, what’s left of them)? A M A Z I N G. The possibilities are endless with this tiny time lord and we’ll certainly drink to that.

---

Summarized from an interview with Josephine Theirin for CryptID’s special on supernatural event survivors and firsthand cryptid encounters

CRYPTid: "I nearly died after meeting The Professor" 

[screenshot of video interview/depiction of Garrick as a puppet]

Garrick Bernard would rather not talk about it, but he understands the importance of telling his story, regardless of whether people believe him or not. He’s beyond caring at this point. He knows what happened—he feels it all the way down to his bones. (His thankfully fully human adult-sized bones.) It sounds ludicrous, for sure. But he played The Professor’s game and followed through and somehow experienced the most painful transformation of his life. Many still believe it to be a fever dream or some sort of sleep paralysis, but Garrick knows, for mere moments, he understood what it meant to be The Professor… and the pain, brutal and agonizing, of his body shrinking inside itself, flesh turning into fabric, the sheer terror of being a goddamn puppet—it was entirely worth it.

---

[Recovered notes from an undisclosed location by [redacted]. Most likely during a Paris-based operation in the mid to late 1880’s. The name "Ryan" is faded, but still legible on the cover page.]

---

And an astronomer said, Master, what of Time?

Kahlil Gibran

Notes:

A thousand thanks to everyone who helped me get everything sorted out in the final hour. You are all amazing humans.

Title from Albert Goldbarth’s "The Sciences Sing a Lullabye."