#considering writing a bit. all i write these days is technical documentation

[husbandhannie]

happy to report i've gotten a new job and will be moving to another country in january

[starkspondwater]

Please please please pretty please some Mysterion x Hero! Reader/New kid!! 🙏🙏🙏 Or civilian

I was a little nervous to start this one and then it just...ran away with every fiber of being. I loved the idea of a civilian getting into the whole hero thing and next thing I knew I was 6 pages deep into a document with more story to tell

Um...It is a bit longer than some of my other stuff I've posted on here, and I hope you like it! I wanted some tension (even though I'm not the most experienced writing it) and I hope everything comes across nicely! I may have crashed out once or twice trying to write this...but I'm deciding that I'm really proud of it!

Summary: Kenny's been doing this hero thing for a long time. Hell, he could even say he's been built for the dangers him and his team have had to face over the years. When someone new steps up, someone intriguing, he can't help but feel a pull, one that makes him think this all might be a bad idea.

Word Count: 6728 words

Putting on a Mask - Mysterion x New Hero!Reader

It started with a simple mugging.

Walking home at night had never been something that worried you before. Streetlights buzzed as the blanket of night surrounded you, shop windows dark and empty. It was comforting in a way, the silence. Days were always filled with noise, busy to a degree that had your mind screaming into a void of stress and anxiety, only quieting once your front door closed and you were back home.

You didn’t notice the other scuffle of steps not far behind.

It wasn’t until a flash of something out of your peripherals did the alarm bells in your head ring out. You felt a forearm clasp around your neck, yanking you backwards into another body much larger than your own. Through the shock you didn’t even hear the vague threats made by the mugger, only knowing that your air supply was feeling thin. Warm breath hit your ears, jostling you into fight mode. Flight never suited you.

Elbows came down hard into a paunchy stomach. As the attacker hunched at the contact, you slammed your skull backwards, a sickening crunch clearly heard. With his forearm loosened, you tore yourself away, ready to turn and kick when you were rudely interrupted. 

You had only seen glimpses of Mysterion, the masked hero staying out of the limelight while his friends took their glory. You knew his logo well, seeing the vibrant green question mark spray painted around town in support of his actions. And now here it was again, only now it was actually on the hero in front of you. 

In the split second it took you to spin around, Mysterion had the mugger up against the wall, the collar of his dark turtleneck clenched in his fists as he held the perp up. The man had the audacity to sniffle and slobber as though he had been the one wronged here, though possibly it could also be due to the blood spurting from his face. Either way, you didn’t care.

You were a little put off by the lack of a response from the hooded figure. He simply went about securing the mugger, deftly tying his arms back and dialing something into a small device. With only a glance and a nod your way, Mysterion leapt up, leaving you alone with a sad excuse for a criminal. Police arrived minutes after.

Lying in bed that evening, all you could think about was how…satisfying it was to get the upper hand. With a smirk, you considered how technically you were the one to take care of the guy, Mysterion just happened to be there and contacted the police. You had it handled. And he didn’t even give you kudos! 

If all it took to be like him was to wear a cool outfit and beat the shit out of bad guys, it really wouldn’t be so difficult. Most of the crimes around here were petty anyway, and you just proved that you had no issue taking care of yourself. With that spark of an idea, you sat up and got to work.

_____

Kenny was pissed. 

He had been on patrol all week, surveying the alleys and grimey crevices of South Park that he knew contained the filth of society. His eyes were keen, able to catch even the slightest hint of trouble. And yet, there was none to be found.

What the fuck?

He knew things were going on. Shady back alley deals and dangerous lurkers were being reported all the time, the radio Toolshed set up giving them ample advantage over the failing police force. It wasn’t until he heard murmurings among his civilian friends that he knew someone new had stepped into their game.

They didn’t give themselves any sort of name, only a calling card. A bright red X left at every scene. It was bold, and utterly stupid. Whoever this was didn’t realize what they were doing, the types of people they were messing with. There was more going on here than low level criminals with too much time on their hands…there were people that had lofty goals and horrible minds. That’s how he got to be this…thing in the first place.

He needed to find this wannabe hero and make sure they stopped what they were doing and they stopped it now.

A flash of burgundy under a streetlamp caught his attention. Violet eyes scanned the area and with ease he spotted you. Your getup was simple, tones of red covering your body from head to toe with a hood much like his own concealing your visage. Following from afar, Kenny kept you in his sights.

You had been trailing this guy for a while, one Frank Geene. He had been siphoning money from the local crack baby charity, reports of misused funds and grand purchases coming in from trusted sources. The man was cruel, ugly, and in your eyes needed to be knocked down more than just a peg. 

This time of week he fancied himself a gambler, cavorting with like-minded individuals in the basement of Price’s Goods. You were careful to keep yourself hidden, knowing the crowd he ran with. You had already sustained injuries the last time they caught you sneaking around and you were determined not to be found out again. Thankfully, his detail was off for the night, a treat for his men as he had himself a fun evening.

“And just where are you going?” A deep voice startled you, your body twirling automatically toward the source. There in all his purple glory was Mysterion. 

“I’m working.” Hand on your hips, you stared down the masked hero. Part of you was relieved you had decided on wearing your own mask. You don’t think you could’ve been this confident if he could see your face.

He was a little surprised at your tone. Normally when caught unawares, the other heroes at least had the wherewithal to look a bit sheepish at being caught doing something they weren’t supposed to. 

“You shouldn’t be doing this,” Kenny kept his voice low and deep, the familiar scratch in his throat at the effort. “It’s not safe to be out and about like this.”

“You don’t need to worry about me, Mysterion,” you said with a glint in your eyes, “I’m a big kid, I can take care of myself. After all, I’ve been doing it thus far already.” 

With flourish you turned, cape sweeping out behind you as you skillfully climbed the rain gutter of the next building. One thing about your new little gig was you were getting a hell of a workout, climbing and running around getting easier by the day.

Scampering across the roof you could hear muffled steps behind you. So he was going to follow. Okay. Cat and mouse it is. Leaping from rooftop to rooftop, you found your stride, approaching closer and closer to your destination. You felt a small amount of pleasure that the mystery man was still right behind you, silent with an increasing aura of frustration. 

Now to lose him.

Slowing, you waited for the right moment. As you felt the heat of his touch at your elbow you swiveled, catching him off guard. You ensured this moment would happen right at the edge, and dropping down you kept your focus on sticking your landing. With a slight flip, you got your balance back only to turn into a full on sprint around the corner, jumping over various strewn items along the alleyway. 

You knew at this next junction what window would be wide open for your use. You had opened it yourself just the day before under the guise of being an employee, thankful that batting your long eyelashes did just the trick you needed. Running past, you swung yourself up and over the windowsill, softly landing on tile and ducking down. 

Within seconds you heard him. Mysterion slowed, his steps coming to a complete stop only meters away from where you sat hunched down. You could practically hear the gears turning in his head, his confusion felt even through the wall of the building. With a quiet ‘damn!’ you heard him continue his search, footfalls eventually disappearing. 

You finally let out the breath you had been holding, straightening up and taking in the small back storage room. Now, it was time to get to work.

_____

Kenny had nothing to go off of. None of his friends had actually seen you before on their own patrols, and on top of that were not the least bit concerned that someone new was trying their hand at playing hero. They knew better than anyone else it wasn’t safe, especially not for someone who had zero special abilities. 

You were grating on his mind, but he couldn’t help but feel a little exhilarated. He had years of chasing bad guys under his utility belt, the different catches and rescues running together into one big blur. But one night following you and he couldn’t get it out of his head. Hands in his hair he sighed.

“You alright, dude?” Stan was at the other end of the couch, tools spread out before him on the coffee table as he cleaned them. For someone who didn’t care much about doing his own laundry, he took care of those tools like they were a part of him. In a way they kind of were, Kenny mused.

“Just thinking about X.” Without an actual alias to go off of the group had resorted to just going by the calling card, something Eric found slightly hilarious and made a dirty joke of every time. Stan finished rubbing the gunk out of a drill before setting it down.

“I mean, is it really a big deal to have someone else out there?” Stan questioned, moving his body to face Kenny a little more, “Another set of eyes looking out doesn’t hurt, Ken.”

“It might hurt them. From what I can tell they aren’t like us,” Kenny sighed again, tugging on his  blond locks. “You should’ve seen them the other night. They can get around well enough but I could see the strain it had on them. They were breathing hard enough I’m sure anyone down the road could’ve heard!”

“But they still outsmarted you,” with a gleam in his eyes, Stan smiled. “Is that what this is? You’re upset that someone actually got away from the big, bad Mysterion?”

“No! Christ man, I’m not Cartman. I don’t have that big of an ego. I just…What if something does happen?”

Stan huffed out of his nose, the slight familiar whistle from the action making Kenny stifle a chuckle. Upstairs they could hear Kyle and Cartman arguing over something for the third time that week, muffled shouts unintelligible from the other end of the home. 

“If something did happen, it wouldn’t be your fault. There’s no way they went into this not knowing the risk. They’d be stupid not to.”

Kenny pulled his hands away from his head, an unsettling feeling beginning to weigh on his chest. There was something about you he couldn’t put a finger on, something that drew him in like a moth to flame. 

“For their sake, I sure as hell hope so.”

_____

“That’ll be $5.80, sir!” the bright and cheery smile you kept on most of the morning was starting to hurt your cheeks. You were in customer service hell but at least you were paid to be there, you only wish they didn’t schedule you so goddamn early.

That was the one drawback of your new venture you had resigned yourself to. Late nights hunting for nefarious activities meant that your sleep cycle suffered far more than it ever had in your life- and you used to pull all nighters to study! 

Yawning, you greeted the next customer, plastering on another smile. Ringing up items, the beep of the scanner tuned out after hearing it for so many shifts, you began your usual round of pleasantries. How has your day been? Anything exciting going on? Beautiful weather outside! Blah blah blah…

When you looked up into violet eyes you froze, a pack of gum stopped halfway through the scanner. In front of you stood a tall, blond man, one you had seen many times since you moved into the area. He was a flirt and you tried not to interact with him too much by dodging questions and letting your voice fade as you bagged his things. He was lithe, but from the muscle definition of his arms you could tell he was stronger than he looked. 

You normally didn’t look at him long but there was something about those damn eyes. They were so familiar to you.

“Hello?” Waving a large hand, the man had on a sly, steadily growing grin.

“S-sorry! Um, its just been a busy day is all!” You were slower in your motions as you finished bagging things up, giving the man his total. He stood there gazing at you for a moment. Opening his mouth to say something he was quickly prompted forward by some friend calling out from the exit. With a wink and a smirk thrown your way, he gently took the bags and left.

Something about that man’s eyes took hold of you, like you had not only seen them before but that the fact that you had was extremely important. You searched your memory for any instance of him. Classes, work, parties, anything at all that could’ve tipped you off, but nothing came to mind. You had a way with faces, especially good looking ones, and knew this would bother you the rest of your day.

As the next person in line took their place you pushed those thoughts to the back, but the image of those violet irises stayed.

_____ 

Your feet dangled over the ledge as you ate your sandwich. It was a quiet night as far as ass kicking went, only having to deal with some guy trying to steal a car. He didn’t even have a proper slim jim, simply trying to wedge some bit of metal into the window crevice that only served to set off the car alarm. 

You didn’t mind as you had bigger fish to fry. Your tip from the week before didn’t lead to much, just an empty basement with nothing but rat shit trailing along the corners. You did find one thing, however: a small playing card. The queen of hearts. 

Billie Queen was a vile woman, old and past her prime but acted as though she was hot shit on a stove. You recalled seeing her around town demanding some sort of special treatment for one thing or another- what she was doing with Geene however still baffled you. At present you sat overlooking the tiny building where her apartment was situated, window in perfect view.

You didn’t even have to turn to see who landed beside you.

“I told you not to do this anymore.”

“And I told you I can take care of myself,” you shot back, taking another bit of your sandwich.

Mysterion sat down, mirroring your posture. In the chill of the evening you could feel the pleasant warmth radiating from him. You both sat in silence as you watched the window, the flicker of a womanly figure occasionally rushing past. Eventually, you heard a sigh from your unwanted companion.

Kenny knew this was a bad idea, but somehow he got the feeling you and him were very similar about these sorts of things. He didn’t have many options with this small fascination of his.

“If you’re going to do this, will you at least let me accompany you?”

“No! Why?” Your neck twisted to gape at the man. The gaul of him to suggest that, it’s not like you were some kid playing pretend in the backyard, dammit!

“What you’re hunting right now? This is serious. It’s not playing cops and robbers like you have been.” His eyes darkened as he considered his next words. “What you're messing with could get you killed. And will. Unless you have some help.”

A shiver ran up your spine. 

You knew what you had been getting into was dangerous. The petty crimes were one thing, but as you got into more serious shit and bruises began to litter your body, reality had set in. More than once you had a close call with the sharp end of a knife, narrowly dodging as you traded your own blow. 

But something about the danger only made it more addicting.

Knowing that you were a part of something bigger, something that was bringing good into the world even if it was at your expense was a beautiful thing. Isn’t that why people like Mysterion did this in the first place? If he wanted to help, who were you to say no?

“Alright. But no coddling me.” Your eyes were steady as you addressed him, voice hard. “What are we going to do about her?”

“Her connection to Geene is shallow at best, but it was smart to come here. If anyone is going to have a little dirt on the bastard, it’ll be his little affair.”

The thought of the man’s wife, living in ignorance of not only her husband's crimes but also of his infidelity, puts a sour taste on your tongue. 

“How do we go about getting that information from her? I scoped out the entire place, there’s no way in besides breaking and entering. From what I can tell that lady isn’t going to bed any time soon,” Sure enough, Billie was still strolling past the window clad in a  fluffy robe, phone in hand as she talked heartily with someone on the other line.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” poking around the side of his belt, he brought out a grappling hook. “Second window from the left allows access into her place, and from experience I know she never leaves it locked.”

“You’ve…done this before?” You were curious. Of course the heroes of South Park knew things no one else did, upending more of the criminal underbelly than what was released to the public, but how much did they know?

“Ms. Queen has a long list of connections and thankfully, she documents them quite well.” With an attractive smirk, he leapt and headed for the next building. A glance back told you all you needed to know, that this affiliation with one another was happening and you were expected to follow his lead. Jumping down, you did just that.

He was a silent man, nary a word exchanged as he worked with you. You caught yourself ogling him as he maneuvered his grappling hook with expertise, shimmying up into the window and waiting for you to follow. To your surprise, Ms. Queen wasn’t living in some dingy apartment, having bought out most of the floor and creating an over the top bachelorette pad filled with animal prints and gaudy perfume. 

By the end of your expedition, information in hands, exhaustion took hold. Despite not doing much exertion, late nights and shitty meals took a toll on your body, and as you slagged behind the caped lad he noticed.

“Get home and rest up. Won’t do any of us any good if you’re not well.” 

“I told you not to coddle me.” Straightening up your back, you attempted to shake off your tiredness, but the aches remained. “I’m fine.”

“We passed this same building three times now.”

Well what do you know- the red brick building with toys showcased in the window was indeed one you had passed several times now.  This prick was testing you.

“Listen here, buddy, I know my body better than-” you suddenly found your backside hitting that very same brick building, Mysterion looming over you. You had never been this close to him before.He was tall and spindly, and god he smelled good. While most of his face was covered, you did take note of the small scar trailing down his chin, old and faded from years past. 

You watched as his eyes roamed your masked face, taking in the contours you allowed to be shown. You were thankful for the low lighting, hoping it was enough to hide your flush away from his intense gaze. For a brief second, his eyes darted down towards your lips before coming back up once more.

“If you push yourself too hard, you’re asking for trouble to find you,” his breath hit your face as he spoke, “You’re tired. We can resume later, I’ll find you.” 

With that, Mysterion ducked away, his cape following after. As you went to say one more thing, a need to get the very last word in even if he did catch you off guard, you were met with an empty space. Huffing, you made your way home, warm bed sheets calling your name.

_____

Kenny was confused. 

He had planned on talking to you, yes. He had planned on being gentle at first, before really grilling you about the dangers of what you were doing. He was prepared to say whatever he needed to if it got you to cease your solo operations. 

So why did he invite you to work with him?

He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He was the goofy flirt to all his friends, but the second that uniform was on his body that melted away and all that was left was Mysterion. All that was left was his will to protect. To sacrifice. He didn’t do partnerships, especially not with strangers playing dress up. What was it about you?

“Kinny, what the fuck are you doing?” Cartman stomped down the stairs, his heavy steps making the structure underneath creak. 

“Nothing, just…trying to enjoy a day off I guess.” Days off for the blond came few and far between. From the time he was 14 Kenny had worked his ass off, starting with odd neighborhood jobs, shitty fast food restaurants, and eventually moving into whatever allowed him his time to work at night. He worked most days, only allowing himself a day off a week to fully relax and reset. 

It wasn’t a good system, something Kyle constantly nagged him about, but he was used to it. He was used to a lot of things, like his damnation.

As he sprouted into adulthood, Kenny got better at avoiding the icy grip of death. But inevitably, as it always did, it would come for him, its embrace more like a constrictor as it dragged him down. He hated it. He hated feeling the pain and not having an actual release. He hated that he always came back time and time again, no one remembering the anguish they had expressed the day before as they witnessed his body breaking in front of their eyes. It was always as though he had been through nothing at all. That he was nothing.

It was enough to drive him into madness, but he wouldn't let it.

That’s why Kenny did this. That’s why he worked tirelessly to make his home a safer place because then at the very least his curse could do some good. It did good for Karen and Kevin, his friends and their families, and even the strangers he knew nothing about but felt an obligation towards.

“Wanna come with me to grab some grub? Kyle forgot my cheesy poofs again, fuckin-”

“Let’s go!” Hopping up, Kenny grabbed the boy’s arm and steered him to the door. A distraction sounded real nice right about now, and he wasn’t going to waste that time with Cartman’s bitching about their friends for the millionth time.

_____

It had been a few weeks since you began working with Mysterion, and it was driving you crazy. 

The man gave absolutely nothing away to you, he was like a brick wall. You attempted small talk, after all if you were going to work with the guy you should be able to converse, right? You only received short, vague answers. At the very least you were learning a lot about the lay of the land, from places to survey the town to setting small traps for the usual suspects. 

Watching Mysterion move and work was, while you hated to admit it, attractive. He was strong and capable, and you had to practically keep your eyes in your head from how hard you stared at him one night while he took down a rather large crook. You found yourself constantly wanting to know more about him, but every evening he’d dismiss you the same way, telling you to get a good night’s rest and that he’d find you later.

If only you knew he was dealing with his own conflicting feelings. As Kenny watched you grow and learn he felt a sense of pride. You were far stronger than he expected, and even with as much as you talked he found you endearing. More than once he had to remind himself not to get too close, no matter how much he itched to lift that mask of yours. He knew things were never going to work out for him, as every night he dismissed you the dread that something bad was to happen filled his insides, black and bitter in his soul.  

A good night’s rest was easier said than done. Today was…anything but good. No amount of sleep could help you out of the hole you had dug yourself into and even if you were to fall into a coma you wouldn’t be able to claw yourself out of it.

Despite actually getting more than a couple hours of shut eye, you still found yourself slogging through work, your arms feeling heavy with every item you scanned. It didn’t help that the usual facade you put on had completely slipped, making one particular rude man offer his unwanted suggestion of a ‘nice pretty smile.’ Utter bullshit.

Even a nap after your shift didn’t help, but that didn’t matter to you. You had business.

“How serious are you about this?” Mysterion’s voice was gruffer than normal, a strain to it that you weren’t expecting. His eyes were intense as they peered at you from behind his mask, hood casting ominous shadow on the rest of his face.

“Why are you asking me that?” You quirked an eyebrow. You thought all the work you had done would prove that you weren’t just messing around here, and the idea that he still just saw you as some kid was starting to piss you off. “I’ll have you know I have done a lot for this town so far you can stick whatever you’re thinking up your-”

“I know what you’ve done, X,” you froze at the name, allowing the hero to keep speaking, “I know the good you’ve done, I’ve seen first hand how hard you work. But what I have planned tonight isn’t just capturing some guy and leaving him for the police. These men are trained to kill.”

You felt your stomach twist uncomfortably. 

“I know no matter what I tell you, you’re going to go after them,” shaking his head, Mysterion came forward, placing both hands upon your shoulders. The weight was anything but comforting. “When we go in there, I need you to do something for me. Do not be a hero. If things fall apart, you get out of there as quickly as possible.”

“What about you?”

“You don’t worry about me. I’ll have my own way out.” 

Mysterion caught you up on his plan as you jumped from rooftop to rooftop. By his calculations, Geene would be at his most vulnerable after 1am, just as his lookouts changed shifts. It was a short window to get in, but that was to be the easy part of all of this. 

The proof needed to blow things out into the open resided in the big boss’ office, which was kept locked tight. To get to that office meant traversing through two floors of the building without being spotted. If they were, it was going to be a hell of a fight, and Geene’s men were known to play dirty.

You both watched dutifully from the building across the way, silence between the two of you. It wasn’t helping your nerves about the whole ordeal, especially when a yawn broke out from your lips, Mysterion shooting a look at you.

“Sorry, long day at work. I’m fine.” You said quickly. It wouldn’t do to be dismissed before things actually started.

“...You have a day job, should’ve known,” a chuckle from the hero startled you, your eyes wide in surprise. “Makes sense with how tired you are most days.”

“You try dealing with people all day,” chuckling with him a warm feeling filled you, “I actually had a man tell me to fucking smile today.”

“Asshole. At least doing this I doubt any mugger would say that sort of thing to you.”

“I don’t know…I don’t much prefer being called a dumb bitch but it’s part of the job I suppose,” eyes crinkling you took in the man next to you. It was strange how many details escaped your notice before, the light slope of his nose, the pretty pink of his mouth, even the light scar running past his chin.

Without that scowl he actually looked pretty cute, not that he wasn’t before just now…he seemed softer. 

“Think we’ve ever run into each other outside of this?” You joked, but in the back part of your mind you were actually curious. You saw most of the town every week, surely the two of you would've come face to face at some point. Mysterion thought about it for a minute, his head tilted.

“Probably, I tend to talk to pretty people when I’m not wearing a mask.”

That caught your attention. In the time that you started working with him, he’d stayed professional, cold even. Why tonight was he not only warming up to you…but flirting?

Kenny was already cursing himself mentally. He was running off fumes as well, and while his body was trained to deal with that his mind apparently was not, letting him run his mouth. Thankfully, he was saved from having to explain himself as he spotted the two thugs they had been watching begin to leave. It was go time.

_____

You weren’t sure what happened. After entering the first floor everything was a walk in the park, eerily so. That should’ve tipped you both that something was coming. Later you would consider that one of the people you and Mysterion hunted down may have talked, blabbed to Geene and his men, but at the moment all you could feel was panic. 

The second floor opened to you in a blaze of gunfire. 

Mysterion was quick to pull you behind a half wall, his body taught as his mind flew through possible scenarios. Your gaze was pulled away from his face to the bullet hole in his arm, bright red blood staining the fabric of his suit. 

“What the fuck is happening?” You couldn’t hear your voice through the blood rushing in your ears, the pumping of your heart a fast paced drum.

“They knew we were coming,” eyes darting around, he brought you up to your feet and prepared to run, “we need to get you out of here!”

This floor of the building was filled with cubicles and small offices, perfect as Mysterion worked to avoid the eyes of their attackers. Footsteps were heard all around them, shouts to find them and get rid of them from one booming voice above all. One Mysterion knew well. Bastard.

Coming around one corner office, the both of you were met with a muscular man, his hair plastered across his face. Instinctively you got ready to fight, the familiar adrenaline filling your body. Mysterion shot you a warning look, putting himself in front of you to deal with the newcomer. Before you could protest, another man came into view, this one with total focus on you. 

You’ve tussled with this one before, the nickname of ‘fathead’ coming to mind as you rolled your shoulders back. He had weight and strength behind him, but you had learned how to use that to your advantage. Though your body was beginning to feel fatigued, you were able to easily dodge and weave clumsy blows. Grabbing one arm and pulling it further past your head, his balance overturned, just as you wanted. Throwing a quick hit to the back of his head, you knew you won this match, however you weren’t able to feel victorious for long.

You didn’t notice the knife coming at you. 

Your eyes only caught the small glint of metal when a body blocked your view. With a grunt, he worked fast, trading punches with the other guy until he had finally rendered him unconscious. With those three down, it looked like you both were free to go, the general commotion going on from Geene’s men masking your location.

“Come on! We had one lucky break, we might not get another!” You tried to tug on Mysterion’s arm, only to be met with an unmoving wall. “What are you doing? Let’s go!”

As she shifted you saw it, the handle of the knife. Plunged into his chest, the hero was slightly hunched, his expression pained. You rushed forward as he fell to the ground, his labored breathing hitting your ears as you laid him down. 

“We can get you out of here, get you some help, but you gotta come with…”

“Don’t worry about me, you need to get out before they realize where we are-”

“I’m not leaving you here, goddammit!” Wet spots appeared on his face, tears you hadn’t realized were shed. Mysterion gave a small smile, one filled with sorrow and knowing. 

He knew what was coming for him, but you didn't.

Grabbing his face in your hands you brought your lips down to his, the salt from your tears mingled in with heartbreak. Shaky hands cradled your face, gently and calmly, as though the man they belonged to wasn’t dying on the floor in front of you. Pulling back you saw that his eyes, that wonderful shade of purple that held you captivated with every glance, began to dull.

“Go.”

It wasn’t until you got home that evening, bruised and scratched, that you realized you still had his blood on your hands. By morning you still didn’t feel clean.

_____

Kenny felt like the entire world had beat the absolute shit out of him.

Waking up after his deaths always felt like this, but with the addition of you it felt somehow worse. You didn’t know he couldn’t really die and as he watched your anguish he desperately wished you did. For him this was just another setback. For you? He was worried.

His body never came back 100%, always sore and broken for a few days before he could once again throw himself into action. 

He felt a pit in his stomach at the thought of meeting up with you again.

Today however, Stan convinced him to get out of the house, something about walking and fresh air helping him heal faster. The grocery store was fairly empty for a weekday morning, only a few of the town’s elderly residents out and about. A perfect day to just cruise the aisles, Kenny thought.

At the checkout lane he grabbed his usual pack of gum, throwing it onto the belt without looking up. As Stan counted the bills his eyes lazily scanned the magazine racks, when a gasp brought him to attention. 

Ah, the cute girl at checkout. He had seen her quite a few times, tried to flirt which seemed to just fluster her to his delight. But now she looked horrified, and at him nonetheless.

“Miss? Are you alright?” Stan kept looking between the two of them, concern growing in his gaze.

Stepping from behind the register, she came closer causing Kenny to back up slightly. He wasn’t sure he liked how intently the girl was staring at him, but something kept his feet rooted in place. A small hand came up, a ghostly touch along his chin.

“It's…you…but it can’t be. You died.” With those words he felt the floor drop beneath his feet.

The shake of your voice, the softness of your cheeks, the feeling behind your eyes…it was you. It had to be. Explanations danced along the tip of his tongue, never taking the leap to be heard. At his silence you found wetness at the corners of your eyes, and without another look back you sped off, leaving two confused heroes in your wake.

_____

He found you where he thought he would, the rooftop across from where it all happened.

You sat with knees to your chest, as though it would provide some protection to your already shattered soul. You watched him die, you saw the life that filled his body leave his eyes. It couldn’t have been him. You’d feel embarrassed at the scene you caused if everything else already didn’t feel so much worse.

“Glad to see you didn’t hang your cape up.”

Behind you stood the one man that had been haunting you for days. The images of blood and his limp body were constant, and yet here he was as good as new.

You didn’t say a word as you moved towards him, only stopping when you were close enough to feel his breath on your face. You felt his hand shoot up to your wrist while your fingers played with the edge of his mask, but he didn’t stop you. 

The face that stared back was familiar, just as you thought it would be. Kenny’s violet eyes were gentle, taking in every little indication of what you might be feeling. 

“It was the scar…that’s what got me at first. But when I saw your eyes again I knew it was you” with tears springing forth you launched yourself at him, arms locking around his slender neck. “I thought it was all my fault.”

“What do you mean your fault-”

“I was exhausted…you said to keep vigilant and I should've noticed him coming and then you-”

“It was going to happen at some point.” Feeling you shake in his arms he tightened his hold, “These things happen, and at the end of the day you got away safe. That’s what I wanted.”

“You died.”

“I did. Call it a curse.” Pushing back you looked at him with frustration. 

“I wouldn’t call having you come back a curse, you asshole!” Kenny could almost laugh at how you sounded, but the bite of his own bitterness came first.

“I died more times than I can count, in every single possible way. I’ve felt every kind of pain there is to feel,” tension building, Kenny felt himself vomiting out everything he couldn’t say out loud before. “I have had to watch everyone I care about grieve. I have had to watch how my death traumatized them again and again and again. And every morning, they forget. But I don’t.

“It’s been a lifetime of dealing with that. And I could live with it. But having that same thing happen with you? I can’t-”

“I remembered.” With that Kenny's mouth snapped shut. You did remember, didn’t you? “So I would prefer if you didn’t call the fact that I have you back a fucking curse.”

Mouths crashed together as Kenny pulled you back in, desperation pouring out of him in droves. A piece of the puzzle that was his entire being seemed to click in place in that exact moment, and like hell was to let that go. For once he felt seen and whole. 

Coming up for air, you took the chance to pull off your own mask. It wasn’t a surprise to know what you looked like, but something about doing this here and now solidified a trust between you. You were a team.

“We do have a lot of work to do if I’m going to keep you from dying again.” With a laugh, Kenny brought you close once more.

“At least you know I’ll be coming back for you from now on.”

[starry-bi-sky]

more about og tue timeline twins danny and dan/jamie

very touchy with each other. you might even say. ccclingy. its to be expected, they're two halves of a whole after all and all they've got of each other. worryingly co-dependent. do not separate. ever.

Danny was really weak and sick after the initial separation, and was for a while after. Jamie knew internally that if Danny died, he'd take the whole world with it. He was the one sole caretaker for him while he got better -- not for lack of trying on Vlad's part, but without his ghost powers he was nothing more than a feeble (albeit handsomely rich) man, and James looked ready to bite his head off if he got within ten feet of either of them.

Vlad is intimately aware that James (or Danny, if he tried) could snap his spine in half like a twig, and is uncomfortably aware of his own lack of ghost half now. It makes him feel self-conscious and exposed, so he never fully returns back to "cocky and self-assured billionaire Vlad Masters". Making deals with other brands feels a lot harder now that he can no longer possess them anymore.

Speaking of, he very quickly has to come up with a cover story as to why there's now a James Daniel Fenton to the public, when no records whatsoever of him existing existed prior. Lots of forging false government documents on his end. James and Danny do not help because it's his fault this happened in the first place.

(Regardless of whether or not Danny actually willingly chose to rip out his ghost half/humanity in canon is true, or if that was Vlad Masters speaking out of his ass, a large part of the blame still falls on Masters.)

(As his primary caretaker and guardian, it's his responsibility to ensure the health and safety of his charge, and since Danny was in clear emotional duress at the time, it can be argued that he was not in the mental state to make such a decision. And, allegedly, couldn't do it on his own which is why he asked Vlad for help.)

I chose "James" as Dan's name since it's a popular fanon middle name for Danny, and since he's half of Danny, it felt like it just made sense lol. Also because of the ensuing comedy of the two of them introducing themselves as "James Daniel Fenton" and "Daniel James Fenton". It's got the same energy as "danny with a y" and "danny with an i" and it's the exact kind of name bullshit you expect parents to give their twins.

I don't have their exact personalities down, but something I am actively writing into this au's bible is that I think Danny should be the quiet and (ig technically) meaner one. There's a lot to go into about interpretations for ghosts, halfas, and the incident itself, but TL:DW; Danny is technically soulless, or at the very least missing half of his soul (altho Jamie is too just in a different direction).

Pair that with the trauma of losing his family in front of him + having his ghost half ripped out + all the trauma he would've sustained as a hero, and he's not doing too hot mentally! i think if the twins met good timeline!Danny, Danny would've mistaken Danny for Dan and Jamie for the original half.

He comes off to others as pretty apathetic and indifferent to a borderline terrifyingly calm degree. He doesn't go out of his way to insult people, but he also doesn't care enough to consider the other party's feelings so he doesn't filter himself, which makes him come off as rude. The only times he looks truly comfortable is when he's near Jamie or talking to him.

His standoffish, ice prince demeanor makes Jamie look like a saint in comparison. When really he's not all that much better? He's more outwardly emotional than Danny, whether that be positive or negative, but at the end of the day he doesn't trust or care about anyone else any more than Danny does, and he's got a bit of a sadistic streak. Danny reigns him in when he starts becoming too destructive.

(Which I think makes sense. Danny asked Vlad to rip out his ghost half specifically so he could stop feeling his human emotions. Dan, despite his monotone voice, does exhibit emotions. He's smug when he asks Valerie if he likes his ghostly wail, sardonic when he reunites with Sam and Tucker, annoyed, shocked at Danny's ghostly wail, etc. He enjoys wreaking destruction and chaos.)

(If Danny had survived his encounter with Dan and if Vlad was successful, then I imagine he'd be rather apathetic to his other half as a whole. That'd be interesting.)

Overall though they're both hurt, bitter, and distrustful of the world around them, with abandonment issues a mile wide. They can get better and they can heal, but it takes time and patience and proper support.

On the DPxDC side of things, they do genuinely hold some kind of respect or regard for Bruce. They also don't become vigilantes for a while. Neither of them are jumping at the bit to enter heroism again, not when it was heroism that killed their family in the first place.

In fact when they find out Bruce = Batman they think he's foolish for it. They think its a fool's errand, and they've been so spurned by their time as Phantom that for a few weeks, Jamie even refused to call Bruce anything but Sisyphus. Danny called him Tantalus, and the two of them had a faux-argument about which one was more accurate.

Bruce does, though, worm his way into both of their hearts, and that's like, the main reason they become vigilantes to join him. So that they could keep him safe and not because of any desire to return to the heroic life. Relearning to care and finding satisfaction in helping others was an unintentional side effect.

(Bruce is so very smug)

Essentially:

The Twins: this is our squishy and fragile adoptive father. If anything happened to him, we're becoming mass extinction events.

Bruce: Nnno.

[hedwigoprah]

A Word with Friends | June 2

Hello Hello! I'm finally back at it and writing for prompts again! Yay! I thought I'd hop back in with a word that y'all might enjoy. This week's word is one I've used before. Someone even called my use of it slutty which I then proceeded to print out and put on my wall to document the occasion you know who you are.

Don't worry though, I wrote something brand new to fit it, and all of the AWWF words I missed during the month of May.  I'm dropping this a little early cause it's technically also a submission for last week's word too. But no pressure, no rush.  SO! Without further adieu, the word for this week is:

Avarice

1. Excessive or inordinate desire of gain; greed for wealth 2. Inordinate desire for some supposed good.

My submission and tags are under the cut ;)  1.7k words jsyk

This particular work is all original, but it does reference Children of the Dark, so there are a few names you may not recognize. They're from Veryl's history.

Yeah?" Veryl called out as she sorted through the papers in front of her. When the meditation room had echoed with the knock, she had startled and tossed the stack she had in her hands. She stooped now to retrieve the scattered parchment. The door creaked open and Bellara's head popped out from around the corner it created. "Rook? Can I bother you about something? Just, if you have the time? I completely understand if you're doing something else." She still stood in the doorway, hand poised to pull the door shut if Veryl requested she leave. Veryl looked from the papers she had corralled into a somewhat organized stack and then back to her visitor. Others still lay out of her reach. So, out of frustration with the task rather than the interruption, she dropped the ones she had collected and decided to just pick them all up later. "Yes, please bother me." She stepped over the newly dispersed mess to pull the door open further and invite in her guest, waving her further into the room. Bellara brought with her some parchment of her own, along with a quill and an ink pot. It wasn't hard to guess at the motives behind her sudden visit. Veryl second guessed her choice, wary of how the fanciful would-be author had been speaking of her writing endeavors. Veryl wasn't sure she was in healthy enough place to be considered good subject matter. "What can I do for you?" Veryl closed the door and leaned against it as she considered her friend. She decided that something off-the-wall might be exactly the distraction she needed. "Well, first," Bellara started, and Veryl mentally prepared for the particular ten thousand words she would be inundated with. "I hope you don't mind but I was trying to write down that story you told us the other day, the one about the body swap? It was so intriguing, I just can't imagine not having it down on paper. I'll make sure it only stays in our records, but I thought it was worth remembering, you know? I ran into a bit of a roadblock though, there are so many details that I could never repeat the way you did. So I was wondering if I could pick your brain about it? Unless you want me to stop, and then I'll stop. I'll even throw everything I have into the fire so no one will ever find it."

Veryl felt her mouth slacken only a bit before she checked herself and corrected her features before they could betray her shock. Her eyebrows still shot up her face, something she couldn't prevent as hard as she tried. She also forgot what a normal amount of blinking should look like.

"You know what!" Bellara threw her free hand up, waving a finger about as she started to backtrack. "I shouldn't have even started writing it down. I knew it was private story and I should have let it stay that way. I'm sorry, Rook. I'll be going now." Veryl had to give credit to Bellara's perspicaciousness, already changing course because of Veryl's obvious unease with the idea. There wasn't an ounce of maliciousness or victim-hood in Bellara's words either, the apology was genuine she could tell that much. Veryl was already shaking her head as Bellara made for the door, reaching for the handle. On a laugh, she stopped the other woman from trying to leave. She placed a gentle hand on her arm and gave her a meaningful look. "I don't mind, Bellara, I promise." And Veryl thought a big part of her meant it. She was safe with these people. Bellara herself was in possession of this particular kind of effusive apricity that set a person at ease without even trying. For the next several hours, Veryl let Bellara pick and pull at different threads of the story she shared. Bellara was gentle with her questions and they never veered further into the weeds. Veryl was never required to divulge more than she already had. They sprawled out across the rug in front of the sofa. This time papers were scattered, but in an organized fashion that Veryl could not make heads nor tales of, but Bellara danced between effortlessly. Veryl talked about her teammates in vague terms, describing them only as characters in a story rather than people she spent a formative amount of time with. She spoke about Jeltje's gruffness, Heinrich's strength of character, and even Detre's cunning. In this moment, they were nothing more than descriptions and words, it was easier that way. "What about your other teammate, the one you don't mention very much?" Bellara was on her stomach, concentrating on writing what Veryl provided verbally. Veryl meanwhile kept her arms wrapped around one of her pillows, her fingers toying with the tassels that hung from the corners. "Nocturna?" Veryl clarified and Bellara nodded, lifting her face to give her full attention. Veryl didn't really know how to describe the most elusive member of her team. Nocturna had been mysterious and secretive at the best of times, and down right enigmatic and recondite at the worst. "I think Nocturna…" Veryl tried to sort out the words she knew that could even begin to describe the woman. "I think she scared me more than anything else." Veryl laughed at the absurdity of it. For all the malcontent spirits, child-sized bugs, and vile villains she had come up against, nothing could unsettle her the way Noturna could with just a withering look. "I wasn't exaggerating when I said she just appeared during the blood rain. She moved like… a susuration of a living person. You can't track her with your eyes or your ears. Even if you thought you felt her presence, for a second, like a chill up your spine, she's already gone." It was unnerving the way Nocturna had just flowed through existence. "She made me look like a clumsy baby, just learning to walk." Bellara gave her a confused look, as though she couldn't comprehend the idea, but kept writing anyway. "She was slick with a blade and killed without thinking twice about it. I was a weapon, sure, but she was poison."

Veryl finally took note of her own demeanor, having zoned in on a particular pattern in the rug that had started move as her vision grew blurry with lack of focus. She snapped back into reality before Bellara could notice her abstraction. "That's really all I can say." Veryl begged off when Bellara looked to her for more. She gave her a small apologetic smile. "That's perfect, Rook. I'll be able to describe her much better now." Bellara dipped her quill another time before reaching for a piece of paper that already had some other scribbles that rambled across it. "I just have one last question." "Shoot." Veryl allowed, tossing the pillow down and crawling to her own stomach. She propped herself up and watched as Bellara scritched new words across the paper in front of her. "What was the exact speech you gave as the Spectre? Do you remember?" As if she would ever forget those words. A warning she had since repeated, though perhaps in not so many words, but the sentiment was one that she had made sure certain persons would be sure not to forget. From somewhere deep inside the darkest parts of her soul, Veryl brought forward something that felt like a mockery of her evolution as a person. The Spectre felt weird on her skin, but still fit like a shadow she would never fully be rid of. In her best imitation of the ghost she once was, she repeated the words that had cemented her place as nothing more than Necropolis folklore. "I see you. I hear your weeping and groaning. The being you mourn would impart you with a final word. Seek honor, truth, and kindness and blessings will be your boon but if avarice fills your soul, you shall only find your doom." Coming back to herself, she gave Bellara a sanguine smile, relaxing back into her own current skin. Bellara returned the smile before she finished her latest line, sighed, and shifted positions to sit back on her haunches.

"You know," she started as she began to gather all of her papers into a single stack. "I'd really think that speech was much scarier if I hadn't seen Emmrich chase you to your room in nothing but your underwear." This time Veryl let her jaw drop open. "You…?!" True shock had Veryl sitting up and trying to cover herself as though she wasn't fully clothed. "It was the middle of the night, no one was supposed to be awake." Bellara danced around her eye contact with Veryl, her eyes shifting in nervousness as she spoke. "Let's just say that I know I wasn't the only one not getting any sleep." Bellara was quickly scrambling to her feet, dodging the pillows that Veryl playfully threw her way. "But don't worry! I definitely didn't write any of that down!" Veryl paused in her cushion assault to question her friend, "Really?" Bellara had moved quickly, nearing the door with alacrity Veryl only saw her move with in the field. She was very near the door when she turned to give Veryl an answer. "No, I lied." She grinned sheepishly, a crimson blush dusting her cheeks. "I wrote all of it down. OkaythanksfortalkingtomeRook! Haveagoodeveningbye!" Bellara was out the door before the final pillow could hit it's intended target. Instead it thudded against the door that had been slammed shut and fell uselessly to the ground.

Gentle, loving tags for you my friends: @strugglinggranola @serensama @tkwritesdumbassassins  @tacoteddy22 @thecraftybaroness @himluv @notyourmamasdeerbat @bubblecat-co @mythals-whore @operative-arrow @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @seaglassmelody  @davrinsleftpectoral @biowaredisasterbisexual @woundedsoul12 @jenn2d2 @arisofsky, @kai-dimir, @purple-frost @pixiedurango @thedissonantverses

Happy writing folks!

Trivia for your time: The average golf ball has 336 dimples

[donnerpartyofone]

What was the process like for writing the novelization for Splice? Would you consider writing a novelization of an existing work again?

Eek I'm being interviewed! I'M SO FAMOUS. There are a lot of parts to this answer. The shortest answer is that I really just watched SPLICE in tiny sections every single day for a very, very long time. I had a certain version of the script to work from, but it wouldn't contain the exact things that were said and done in front of the camera (no script would), so I just studied the movie. I scanned the sets for objects I could not identify, of which there are a LOT -- things I've never seen before, and things I've seen but couldn't name -- and searched online until I learned to describe things like hay trolleys and circulating baths. To me, the point of a novelization is that it produces an interior and sensorial experience not offered by a screen, so I tried very hard to expand on the material qualities suggested by the movie.

It never once occurred to me to change anything. Apparently this is an expectation of novelizations. I had a writeup in Fangoria that was very kind about my ability to make psychological sense out of the things people do in SPLICE, but that expressed disappointment that I hadn't added scenes or anything. I'm such an inveterate, pathetic sort of rule-follower, I didn't even ask myself about this. I did change one exact thing, regarding the kind of candy that Elsa eats, because it was meaningful and amusing to me to do so, but I don't think anybody will ever get it. I also included just a little bit of material from the script that didn't make it into the movie, because it was completely in line with my psychological interpretation, which was what I was most concerned with.

I never thought of SPLICE as a perfect film, but I had a lot of thoughts about it, and I think my main contribution was to explain what these characters are thinking and feeling as they wade into this life-changing and profoundly icky experience together. That became very personal very quickly and I was a little bit afraid that maybe this would be how everyone would find out how totally insane I actually am, but I'm told that that part worked out pretty good -- by Vincenzo Natali, among other people, who is SO NICE AND SMART AND SUPPORTIVE. Best guy! When I turned in my draft to the publisher I thought there might be a little back and forth, I did not expect them to send the raw document directly to Vincenzo and I was very alarmed when I heard from him before anybody else, but I really had nothing to fear. He's one of my favorite people now.

I would definitely do another novelization. Actually I think I'm uniquely suited to this because I have a good dose of aphantasia. I didn't even know until recently that it's statistically weird to think mostly or exclusively in words and to have a very hard time visualizing, like, almost anything. When I started telling people this about myself I was asked, among other things, "How do you do anything if you can't picture what you're going to do?" And I was like, uh...I don't know. Maybe this is connected to my extreme executive problems and my problems with goal formation and followthrough. I mean I think this is true, now. And I developed this sort of half-joking self-mythology that I have to be watching movies every second of the day because I suffer from an image deficit and I need external infusions. Like even when I used to draw (trauma took that away, long story, but I drew all the time for like half my life), almost everything I ever made was swipes -- and I think they're pretty good, like it's worthy as art. But I guess for me, art has to be made out of something external that I manipulate. All the art I've ever made without a reference point has been maybe technically OK but really lifeless, you can tell something is missing. So I think the novelization process was a lot like how I used to draw, where I had a completely concrete external referent and I would just sort of tour it very extensively until I had created a twin of it out of my interpretations. And the twin is like, the same but different, it's a clone made out of feelings and reactions. I think that's a worthy sort of art object to make.

There's a thing I'm working on now that I'm sure I won't be able to talk about for a long while, but it involves writing things from preexisting sketches and prompts, and that's a little bit the same. I don't have as much to go on, but I can tell what the shape of it could be, I just turn it over like, what if it's like this, what if it's like this, what if it's like this. And I know that what I'm turning out is really made out of tropes and archetypes, it's kind of a collage, but if the collaging is really earnest and you're feeling your way along with reasonable naturalness, it can turn into something. It's not that different from describing experiences you've had, if you really think about it. The following comment is NOT MEANT TO COMPARE MYSELF TO A GENIUS but I had this nice moment of synergy recently when I rewatched Kiyoshi Kurosawa's CURE, which to me seems so forcefully unique, but in interviews he says things like, "Well I just really wanted to make an American horror movie," and talks about how his starting point was not personal at all, he just wanted to play with the established tools and ingredients people use to build a certain kind of product. And I thought, I guess that's what I do -- not as intelligently or deliberately, but I get how you can work in a way that sounds so formal and empty, and have it produce something distinctly personal.

Thanks for your fun question!

*Virginia Madsen voice* Oh yes. I forgot to tell you. BUY MY BOOK!

EDIT: Oh I kind of lied, I changed *just some of* the music that Clive listens to, to something that would be easier to communicate to a reader. Like I wouldn't use the exact band on the soundtrack because it was too obscure and specific, but I would talk instead about his genre choices because they went with what I was trying to say about him as a person. I think all of it was still pretty in line with the sounds, and the Clive, that appear in the film.

[goops-system-shifting]

☆journaling our shifting together☆

a few days ago our system decided that we had interests in documenting our physical shapeshifting and semi-personal thoughts about it in a journal. we’ve so far written them in a way in which it is accessible and readable for others out of our system because we find that sharing experiences is an important part of communities as a whole. bare in mind that these are our specific experiences and of course don’t universally apply to others who also physically shapeshift or are otherwise physically nonhuman.

the words are typed out and printed on stickers as we have issues with handwriting and our writing is practically illegible.

quick side note that we are using the art by @/purple-space-aliens because that is our main blog. clarifying this as this is our first tagged post on this blog.

below the cut is the text version of everything in the journal (this also serves as a image id, although it is a bit lengthy).

the cover of the journal is purple with a slightly darker moon and tree design on the top left corner. it has a pocket in the bottom half and a latch on the top right.

the first page contains the title -which the same as our blog- “goops system shifting” and an image created by us which we have posted before, this time in black and white though (click here for hyperlink to the image with full color and its image id).

the second page contains all of the following text, separated on their respective stickers:

“Things we happen to subconsciously shift to based on who is fronting in order of frequency (anyone is known to shift to our default form slightly though)

Cosmo: rabbit/bunny, alien, main form

Pearl: main form, leopard

Tommy: main form, polar bear, newfoundland

Iris: anything winged (usually main form), canines, polecat, fictotype

Nikki/Nick: vampire/main form, husky, painted dog, piplup

Pup: canines, cheetah, fictotype, raccoon, salmon

Ace: hellhound, black wolf, demon (relatively similar frequencies)

Mars: labrador retriever, alien/main form

Q: main form, coyote

Lars: main form, blanford’s fox

Allium: samoyed, mainform

Dot: alien, main form

Shark: main form, shark

April 4, 2025

“Shapeshifter identity status

As of current, we have a lot of uncertainties on our shapeshifter identity. We do know that we physically shapeshift, though we haven’t looked into any logic on it or not as quite frankly the math does confuse us and we feel some things for us really don't add up. It’s unknown for us if this is delusion or reality, and while we do find it to be very real the signs of the former for us seem to be stacked higher, especially considering we do have delusions and have had them before as well. We don’t really know what side of the community we should be feeling at home with, though it does seem to be more on the physical side. One thing we do know is that we do feel safer in the community of physical alterhumans (especially other shapeshifters) over non physical alterhumans. Another thing we’ve looked at is the idea of our physical nonhumanity being a form of experiment, which seems to likely be true in some way though we’re not quite sure. Regardless of uncertainties though, we still feel very confident in fact that we are a shapeshifter, which is reassuring in facing the unknown.

April 4, 2025

“Delusion or reality

We keep wondering about whether or not us being a shapeshifter is a delusion from a technical stance. For us it's not really delusion but perhaps from an outside of body perspective it is? I’m unsure. It's all complicated and muddled.

April 5, 2025

“Feeling whale-ish

An older, now gone, headmate of ours (Yellow) used to be a north atlantic right whale and I’ve recently noticed that we seem to still be connected to that species. From what I’ve gathered, I (Cosmo) -or possibly Pup since it is the other one who is practically glued to the front- have gained this type after Yellow seemingly merged. The past few days especially I’ve been holding back urges to shift even slightly to be this form. It’s been mostly a subconscious urge, though I’m frustrated I’ve been unable to fulfill it. Perhaps I will attempt it soon, it would feel right anyways.

April 5, 2025"

[sillyletterscomposingsillywords]

Saint-Just being a suisidal bloodsucker for 21 pages

Recently I’ve found this old post made by @saint-jussy with quite an amusing annotation of an article about Saint-Just and his homi-/suicidal inner tension. Here it is.

The article was awfully fantastic and fantastically awful and, as @saint-jussy wrote no review of that masterpiece, I now present it to you all. Enjoy.

Need to say, I have no intention of writing a real review. Just some of my considerations.

Basically, the author believes that

“Which aggression?” would you ask.

Here we move to the beginning of the article and its GREAT PRESUMPTION (that Saint-Just was “cruel” and “self-destructive”).

So, the presumption is that Saint-Just always possessed some kind of an aggression, that resulted in him being an Archangel of Terror (the author loves this metaphor a lot). Neither the origin of this aggression nor concretization of it is a matter of this article. The proof of its existence is “Believe me”:

I do believe that “Needless to say” is the worst thing that can happen in historiography. MYTHology can depict anyone in any way. But calling a person that refused to decapitate a prosecutor of the Revolutionary tribunal of Strasbourg [Schneider], who travelled through Alsace with guillotine and adjudicated by himself with no documentation (Histoire parlementaire, t. XXXI), but instead made him stand on an echafaud under the rain, possessing a wish to kill needs an appropriate proof.

Well, the author does illustrate their point of view:

They even quote Curtis for an alternative opinion:

Was Saint-Just that fair? I believe yes and he was also self-esteemed enough to want to try to beat Danton in oratory. His speeches were magnificent. The author writes by himself that:

But the author answers Curtise with the following part:

Which arrests were illegal and who enjoyed parliamentary immunity? Since the spring of 1793 there was no parliamentary immunity. Technically all arrests were legal, because they fitted the decree about Revolutionary tribunal (see Histoire parlementaire t. XXV, p. 59-62).

Was Saint-Just always fair? Let me ask it a bit differently: was every statement in his speeches true? No. But it doesn’t mean that he was unfair in general. As with the usage of guillotine or participating in battles, Saint-Just hated it, but it seemed inevitable for him sometimes. That is the point.

It’s about 15th germanal. Saint-Just said that the court session was ended because of inappropriate behavior of defendants, while the president of the court suggested Danton to rest after several hours of talking and continue his defense the next day (Danton agreed). But Saint-Just acted after a Committee meeting in which everyone considered it was necessary. And the trial was stopped not out of 15th germinal decree, but on a base of an old decree that the jury may consider the case clear to them after three days of a trial (originally made for Girondins trial). Source: L. Blanc “Histoire de la Révolution françes” t. 10

So, while the same facts can be interpreted in different ways, the author presents them only in a way that is suitable for his theory (not new thing, yeah) and the theory is Saint-Just Was A Real Blood Sucker, whose ideals “would turn the whole of France into a rigid, huge military camp”.

But now let’s move to the suicidal and self-destructive intention of Saint-Just.

We all know his letter to Daubigny. But the author connects it with the martyrdom theme he has in his speeches and writings. They point out an image of Marat in this case and the line “Great men do not die in their beds”. They call it a “noble death” and a duel with Danton, a colossus, might be a good death, because, according to the author, Saint-Just is a death maniac.

And then goes a “ravishment” and “oedipal hypothesis” and many many many “Archangels of death” and Hebertists being minor leaders and his speech on Thermidor leading to a Committee’s downfall (WHAT?) and all his speech that day called an “unnecessary public confrontation” (WHAT? 2.0).

According to that theory, on Thermidor Saint-Just should denounce Robespierre and then himself.

But the thing is: Saint-Just the author writes about is a syndrome model he imagined, not a person. And not everything can be described by one theory when it comes to a real person.

Oh, shit, oh fuck.

[foundry-fabrications]

Hey folks! It took WAY too long to get this out, but it's finally done. Well, technically it isn't done, but I'll get to that in a bit. One weird thing that needs explanation at a time.

So, as one can tell, I didn't just make statblocks for the behemoths, write some lore, and call it a day. I've discovered that I really don't like making statblocks and dealing with all the nonsense that comes with it (CR is a joke, and I'm not laughing). So, in typical Foundry fashion, I tried doing something weird that requires more work and ultimately still required me to make statblocks anyway. Yeah, I'm not smart. 

So I made them templates instead. And while I was tempted to give up and just do the obvious thing since I was just going to end up with stats anyway, making them templates makes a certain amount of sense from a lore perspective and I genuinely think is an interesting idea worth pursuing. Quick lore tidbit, behemoths are likely the result of normal creatures becoming mutated by aether (it's not certain, but there are signs of this origin from what I've read), so a template makes logical sense. So, as long as I pick appropriate creatures for the template examples, the end result will get you pretty close to the behemoths in game. Sure, they're not perfect, but it would be easy to tweak them to better suit your game.

So the other behemoth in the room is there are only 3 behemoths here. I had intended on releasing them all at once. Turns out there's like 30+ behemoths AND 5 basically legendary behemoths. So, I'm splitting them up into their elemental categories, and the legendaries by themselves. I already have the Blaze behemoths written out, so those won't take nearly as long. As I complete each category, I'll update this post and make y'all aware of the additions. By the end, I'll have one document with all of them in it, a brew to rival Flesh & Bone. 

But for now, a quick break to work on something else my ADHD has compelled me to rework. Stay tuned for that. Anyway, stay safe, don't forget to love each other, and I'll see you next time.

Enjoy my work? Consider leaving me a Tip or supporting me on Patreon! Patrons gain access to high quality PDFs for all of my content, weekly updates, early access, and more!

[seraphinitegames]

The Wayhaven Chronicles - Update 7/October/2023

It was weird getting back to coding this week, hehe! I’ve been only doing the writing for the planning for so long that getting back to the shift of how to code was a bit of an eye-opener once again!

But it didn’t take long to get back in the flow.

Though first up this week were social media days, and I had some serious fun with that!

It was the Autumnal/Halloween scenarios to write up for the Patreon specials this month, and you guys decided on some good choices in the poll for the AU romance scenes, hehe! 

So the dates of those will be:

Pumpkin Spice and Everything Nice (Haley Autumnal Scenario Special) 4th October

Can the sweetness of a new relationship beat the yumminess of the bakery’s tasty goods?...Both Haley and the MC seem to think so!

--

Jump Scare (Maaka Halloween Scenario Special) 11th October

For a first date, though maybe technically third, nothing seems better than dinner and a movie. Unless of course it’s a scary movie, and your werewolf boyfriend gets freaked out about anything that goes bumps!

--

Bittersweet (Sin Autumnal Scenario Special) 25th October

The change in seasons brings more than just a chill to the air—it also brings the return of someone who the MC hadn’t realized they’d been missing quite so much. And it seems Sin feels the same way…

--

Are you scared? (Alima Halloween Scenario Special) 31st October

Building a new friendship is hard enough, it’s even more difficult when traversing a haunted house together and realizing the tingle that’s running down both your spines is likely from more than shock of the plastic skeleton leaping out of the walls.

-

It was SO much fun writing these romances as they were all really different! Alima especially was a difficult one to write for but turned out even better than I’d hoped.

But after that, I finally opened up a brand new Notepad++ document and got to save it as ‘TWC Book Four’!!! I had a little bit of an excited and panicky screech at that point, hehe! :D

I’ve been working on all the stuff that needs to go into the background first: coding the character creation for people who jump in with new characters, writing a brief summary of Book Three, etc. I also need to add in a section now for those who want to jump through all the choices in order to create a new character, so I need to make sure I get in all the important ones from Book Three so that it works.

It’s taking a loooong time. And normally I would get all this stuff done before even considering writing anything towards the book, but it was a pretty heavy week of coding so I think next week I might actually jump into the writing and then chop back again when I finish a scene!

Got to find the balance between the fun and the necessary, right? :D

I’m already buzzing at the idea of writing the opening! I’ve actually got it rough written out already, so turning it into the ACTUAL opening is going to be such a major moment! The start of the next chapter within The Wayhaven Chronicles and where the romances are gonna lead!

Hope you all have an amazing weekend! We’ll be offline as usual, so I’ll update you all again next Friday as I dive into Book Four <3

[astramachina]

Six months ago, my partner and I finally got around to cleaning out my childhood home. While a part of me insists it was because we had to sell that old place now that Dad was no longer inhabiting it, another, more insidious part whispered—what if? What if I found something everyone else had missed? But all I found were boxes of old tax documents, shopping receipts, contracts, and what I initially thought was a manuscript.

1914 — Dr. Emil Krasner is declared missing during the Shackleton Expedition. Seven days later, he is found near Mount Erebus in perfect health, alongside a man named Julian Al-Jurjani who claims to be his longtime assistant. According to the ship's logs, no one of that name was ever aboard the Endurance.

1963 — Project Blue Book hires on Dr. Verne Krasner as their resident theoretical physicist, declaring no conflict of interest in regards to the Krasner family, their unearthly prowess in weapon's manufacturing, or their involvement in the conflict in Vietnam.

1978 — Miguel "Mike" Delgado, begins his job as a security guard at The Mall, a complex that always keeps the well-being of its workers and visitors in mind.

1978 — Miguel "Mike" Delgado meets Cy, Stereo Shack's Employee of the Month three years in a row, and falls in love.

1983 — A sequence known as The Event shuts down the complex, forcing the evacuation of the nearly 15,000 American citizens that live along its perimeter. Two casualties are reported at the epicenter, one witness is alive but no longer of sound mind, and one individual remains missing.

2016 — Miguel "Mike" Delgado leaves his house in the middle of the night.

2021 — Miguel "Mike" Delgado is legally declared dead.

I am transcribing his entries both in memoriam, and as an indirect request on his behalf: “This is for Cy but I’ve no idea how to get it out to him. It ain’t like I can post it to the newspaper when I’ve no freaking idea where he at.” So, this is for you, Dad. May the internet do its thing and find “Cy”, whoever he may actually be. If not, well, may a piece of your madness remain on the unkillable world wide web—making you, technically, in some ways, immortal. — Poppy Del @ dontforgetthis.com (2022)

PROJECT SINGULARITY is an experimental writing project that samples multiple forms of media: from video, to websites, to good old fashioned prose, and ideally a video game. While entrenched in the staples of the unfiction genre, Singularity's aim is to primarily deliver a readable science fiction horror experience, with all its extra bits and bobs serving as supplemental material. (Consider it a more accessible version of an ARG.)

What else to expect? Gays. Mad scientists. Mean (hot) women. A POC MC with English as a second language. More hot women. Cults. Cosmic horrors. Liminal horrors. Digital entities. Trans characters? Duh, I'm at the helm here. Nostalgia-bait. Philosophical explorations of what makes someone human. Failed chosen-ones. The agonizing weight of inheriting your family's atrocities, and what you choose to do with that reality.

Caught your attention? Cool! Have some relevant tags ↓↓↓

General project tag: #wip: project singularity

Aesthetic/inspo tag: #singularity lore tag

Character tags: #oc: mike // #oc: verne // #oc: cy // #oc: thorne // #oc: dana

Wanna stay posted? LMK and I'll make a tag list! ♡

[hellofeanor]

Fanfiction Author Interview Game

Fanfic writer interview

Tagged by @niennawept. Thank you!

How many works do you have on AO3? Ten??? That sounds fake but okay.

What’s your total AO3 word count? 709,876

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes:

Distance, Space and Time (technically a series but I'm counting it as one story here because it's late and nobody can stop me): very standard Tony/Loki canon divergence.

Ghosts in Amber: something I wrote because Crimson Peak made my so angry I had to fix it.

Window to the Soul: the only explanation I have for why this is in the top five is that it was the first thing I ever posted on AO3?

Hallmark Christmas Movie: exactly what it says on the box.

Counterpoint: everybody's favourite genre: a 17th century baroque music AU!

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I try to but unfortunately I am uhhhhhh bad at things?

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? Huh. This is a good question. Um. I don't know if I've ever written an angsty ending? Maybe Ghosts in Amber, which is technically a happy ending for the protagonists, but not necessarily due to happy circumstances?

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? For reasons that I hope are made obvious in the title, Hallmark Christmas Movie.

Do you write crossovers? I've considered it a few times, but never really got into the idea.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? LOL yes, one time somebody went through an entire fic of mine and left negative comments on almost every chapter. I have to admire their commitment to the bit. I don't have the time or inclination to bother leaving hate comments, and also I know how to use the back button when I come across something I don't like. The last comment was something along the lines of, "I don't know if I'll bother reading the sequel." MY DUDE, why did you bother reading past the first chapter of this one if you clearly dislike it so much??? Kids these days, SMH.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Sssssssssssometimes??? (I say, eyes darting nervously down to the task bar and the open document icon of my terrible Mirdania/Sauron WIP.)

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yes, but in a totally bonkers way? Somebody took screenshots of one of my fics and then reposted it on tumblr as a series of low quality JPEGs??? I have no idea what that was all about. The internet is a strange and wonderful place.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yeah! One into Russian and Japanese, and more recently somebody asked if they could translate one into Chinese, but I haven't seen the finished product come up yet.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, but that might be something fun to try in the future.

What’s your all-time favorite ship? I... don't know? Probably my two OCs, about whom I will never write anything. :)

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? Fuck. The Gods of All Things. I know exactly how I want it to end, but just can't bring myself to get back into the bloody MCU fandom.

What are your writing strengths? Dialogue and jokes.

What are your writing weaknesses? Actually writing at decent speed.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? I'm not a huge fan, and will only do under specific circumstances, such as conveying that somebody in the scene (and by extension the reader) isn't meant to know what's being said.

What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to? Elrond/Gil-galad. Sigh. I complain a lot about how this ship isn't nearly as popular as it should be, while sitting here doing absolutely nothing to further it.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? Hallmark Christmas Movie. It's so dumb. I love it. However, due to minor swearing and allusions to sex-having, I really should have titled it Lifetime Christmas Movie.

Who else wants to participate? @elrohare? @littlethingwithfeathers? @lordgrimwing? @plotdesigner?

[urdigitalgf]

THE SECRET

pairing; turkey tom x you

-> summary; you and tom have been in a down low relationship for a while, that was until someone in chat asked you about the boy (tom) that kept appearing in all your recent instagram photos and you refusing to answer which drives chat insane, at least it was on the down low until you decided to make things official online.

-> request ; anon

-> word count; 528

It was around the time Tom had to stream and you knew things were about to get dumb, usually when he streamed it was obnoxious which you got used to after a few months of dating. Your relationship with each other was on the down low considering you both had big careers who focused on your own stuff; the last thing you needed was for your relationship to a “problematic” youtuber to ruin your big steaming career.

I mean don’t get me wrong you loved dating him but it had its pros and cons. A lot of people didn’t like him which was reasonable while you on the other hand were adored in the streaming and youtube community which was funny considering you were two completely different people (opposites attract i guess). I mean look at you, you did constant charity streams and were always doing something good for the community: small or not, you were well known for you christmas charity streams every year and which is what caused you to gain so much popularity in the first place.

It was streaming night for you and for once you decided to actually introduce yourself and do a Q&A stream, it was going all fine and dandy until someone asked the big question “Are you in a relationship?”, chat knew you saw the question because they could see the blush on your cheeks but you refused to answer because at the end of the day chat technically had no right to know; it was YOUR stream and you could control what questions you wanted to answer and which ones you didn’t want to answer. Your community had been growing suspicious of you ever since Tom started showing up in your instagram pictures, it’s not like they were flirty or anything just him and you posing or documenting your trips together, pretty normal stuff.

You refusing to answer the question drove chat to be even more suspicious of you and your relationship to him because why would someone like him be with someone like you? You guys were the complete opposite of each other so why would THE turkey tom be hanging out such a streamer like you?

After another hour of streaming and answering questions you decided to end stream and relax since you were feeling extremely anxious after the relationship question which was odd considering you never felt anxious when chat tried invading into your personal life, I guess this time was different since you’ve never really had to think about your relationship that deeply.

After a long long talk with Tom, you both decided to make your relationship public on twitter and boy did you receive a LOT of backlash because of it but at this point you saw it coming, you knew your chat wasn’t too big of a fan of Tom which you didn’t really care too much about; you tried not to let it get to you since at the end of the day it was just people behind the screen so why would you care about what people thought about your boyfriend? you loved him and that’s all that mattered to you.

-> a/n; this was so much fun to write and i got done w it pretty quickly, sorry if it’s a bit bland i literally stayed up all night brainstorming and writing 😅 i might write another little story for turkey tom soon

[dpsisquared]

(About the soulmate au)

...More than Sothis contacting Dimitri directly in his mind i thought more of sothis wacking the divine pulse like a faulty tv remote until something clicked and somehow he started remembering the time loops... he somehow keep doing things differently each time w different results (executing Miklan, forgiving Miklan, fixing his relationship w Felix, getting into a bigger fight w Felix, forgiving the western lords, having Silvain and Ingrid killed, saving Silvain and Ingrid, finding out even more about Anselma, etc.) until he thought he was actually going crazy and broke down to Rodrigue and Rod told him about the old legend of loog and the maiden of the wind bc he realizes Byleth's death is the common denominator... aka Dimitri's time itself is locked into her existance... and he starts to find more abour her and becomes intrigued w her... 😃

The sothis dragging him by his ugly hair was more like, Sothis fucked up and he accidentally got dragged in the time loop, whoops... SO technically not a soulmate au but they all think it is because of the legend.

So since the legend says the only way time advanced for Loog again was to receive the love of his maiden I guess Dimitri will have to put all of his efforts into seducing the beautiful fish eyed mercenary... for ⋆🌟✪✨ Faerghus ⋆🌟✪✨...

I haven't abandoned you, nonny. The problem with actually writing this is that it would necessarily include a lot of fighting lol. But I do love the idea of him figuring it out. I changed it up a bit but I hope you like this silly little snippet I wrote 😊

Dimitri could take this torture no longer. He hurried into Rodrigue's tent, drawing the flap closed tightly.

The former Duke read his mood without a word. "What's troubling you, Your Majesty?"

"Rodrigue, this may sound mad, but I am reliving the same day over and over again."

The older man's face paled, and he put aside the documents he was studying. "Reliving what day, exactly?"

"This one. We go to battle and encounter Jeralt's Mercenaries before reaching the main imperial force. But we never get past that part. After the Ashen Demon dies, or if I die, I wake up to the same day. I've lost count of how many times it's been so far."

Rodrigue was silent for several minutes, probably considering how to keep the Kingdom afloat with a delusional king.

"You're absolutely sure it's the Ashen Demon's death that causes the events to repeat?"

"Yes. The last time, I faced her myself and felt time pulling me backward as soon as the light died from her eyes. It's hazy, but I know at other times, she has killed me. But death never comes. I simply wake up to do it all again."

"Your Majesty... Dimitri," he said with a sigh. His old friend looked like he had aged a decade in the last few minutes. "There's something your father didn't get a chance to tell you. A special circumstance of your Blaiddyd blood."

"Is it madness? Hallucinations?"

Finally, Rodrigue's pained expression softened, and he gave the king a reassuring smile.

"No, my dear boy, nothing like that. It concerns your soulmate."

He scoffed. "This is no time to think of romance!" The royal advisors would disagree, of course. They hounded him about his lack of heirs daily, and he was sick of it.

But Rodrigue held up a hand to silence his protest. "Hear me out. There is a legend about the soulmates of Faerghan kings, going all the way back to Loog and the Maiden of the Wind."

"Spit it out, man, please!" Dimitri begged. Legends and soulmates? What importance could those trivial things have at a time like this?

"The Ashen Demon is your soulmate, Your Majesty."

Dimitri gave him a flat stare, waiting for clarification. But the other man was silent. "Is that some kind of twisted joke? You think I could love a monster like that?"

In some of the timelines, he'd seen her cut down Rodrigue himself with no remorse! Though, now that he'd lived the day from several perspectives, she only did that after Shez killed Jeralt right in front of her. Not that the circumstances justified the murder, but how could he condemn her when he held the same hatred in his heart?

Which is why this soulmate talk was truly unbelievable. It was just as unlikely that anyone could love a monster like him.

He looked back to Rodrigue, who seemed to be waiting for the shock to subside before continuing.

"You're aware that Loog and his wife first met on opposite sides of the battlefield."

"Yes, of course. Everyone knows that story. When Loog saw Deichtine, he dropped Areadbhar and beseeched her to join his side, for he would rather die than harm such a beautiful and talented warrior. When she lowered her sword and took his hand, the soul bond manifested."

Ashe and Ingrid loved the story, but it had always struck Dimitri as unrealistic and unnecessarily dramatic. More likely, both sides had suffered major losses, so the two commanders arranged a political marriage to avoid further bloodshed. Count Rowe had not-so-subtly suggested the same strategy to soothe relations in the West.

"Yes," Rodrigue confirmed. "That is the version in the storybooks. But the secret legend handed down the line of Blaiddyd is that Loog killed Diechtine when they met on the battlefield. The king stooped to take her head just before she took her last breath, and the soul bond formed. He cried out to the goddess to save her, to take his own life if needed."

Dimitri had leaned in, drawn to this version of the story much more than the original.

"The goddess took pity on the soulmates, unfortunate enough to be born in a time of war. She decreed that she would save Diechtine, but the descendant of Blaiddyd must win the heart of his maiden fairly, without revealing their bond. And by doing so, end the war which caused suffering for the Goddess' beloved people. The day would repeat endlessly until he was able to accomplish the feat."

"I understand, but what does that have to do with me?"

"The problem is, the goddess wasn't exactly specific on which Blaiddyd descendant, which maiden, or which war. Situations with the same broad characteristics have presented themselves more than once throughout history."

Dimitri had always thought the goddess aloof, but this information put her in a new light. Maybe she was simply incompetent.

"So this curse has been passed down to me."

Rodrigue raised an eyebrow at him. "Most people would consider a guaranteed soulmate a blessing, Your Majesty."

"What a burden," the king replied. "It's hard to believe that more than one of my forbears have met their soulmates this way."

Rodrigue failed to completely suppress a smirk. "Ah. Well, your line appears to prefer its lovers... feisty."

"Rodrigue!" Dimitri cried, blushing furiously. "To say such a thing at a time like this!"

He'd never thought of such things, not when there was a kingdom to run and thousands of people whose lives depended on him! And he had certainly never considered his... preferences.

Although, thinking about it outside of the heat of battle, the Ashen Demon was quite lovely. And her skill was beyond compare... Gods, he sounded like Sylvain.

"My apologies, Your Majesty," Rodrigue said with a chuckle. He didn't seem terribly repentant. "Circumstances aside, I for one am happy to know you have a soulmate. All of us have tried to get you to take better care of yourself. Perhaps she will be the one you finally listen to."

The man across from Dimitri may have been like a second father, but this was no time for levity! Wasn't his misery obvious?

"There's one thing I don't understand. How did Loog convince Diechtine of their love in mere moments upon the battlefield?"

"That's the other secret. The king actually snuck into her tent before dawn broke, so he had several hours to woo her. This was after many attempts, of course, each one teaching him something new about the maiden. The conversation on the battlefield was merely a performance for their troops to see."

"He... wooed her," repeated Dimitri in disbelief. "I have to... woo the Ashen Demon? In less than a day?"

"Cheer up, Your Majesty!" said Rodrigue with a good-natured pat on the back. "We already know there's something she'll love about you. We just have to figure out what it is!"

Dimitri left the tent with a tempest swirling in his mind. He knew what he had to do. It would be difficult, painful even, but this wasn't just for him. It was for all of Faerghus-- no, all of Fodlan-- so he would do whatever it took, no matter how humiliating.

He walked into the mess hall like a man condemned and mindlessly piled something onto a plate. Bernadetta would probably be horrified by his meal, but there was no time to consider something as inconsequential as food. Scanning the dining room, he spotted his target and sat down.

"Hey, Your Majesty! Look at you, eating while the sun is up!"

He rolled his eyes. There was no point delaying the inevitable. "Sylvain, I need your help... with a girl."

(Diechtine (DECH-tin-uh with the ch like in the Scottish loch) is a mortal woman that the god Lugh had a baby with. That was the mega hero Cúchullain, who interestingly is described as going into a "blood rage" during battle. Fergus (Faerghus), Ferdia (Fhirdiad), and Derdriu are also associated with this crew!)

[waywardxrhea]

Part Five - Welcome to STRIKE

[slow burn romance between you, a SHIELD investigative journalist, and Steve Rogers]

Warnings: 18+, contains humor, fluff, mental health, family trauma, romance, angst, language, violence, smut later on.

installment list

Word count: 2k

You and Steve are informed of the new STRIKE team in DC.

One evening after a day that seemed to drag on forever, Steve came over to your apartment. You were playing music and dancing while you cooked dinner for the two of you, both of you enjoying the other's company all the while. The playlist you had on was mainly Disney music because that evening, you were planning on having Steve watch a bunch of Disney movies with you. While You waited for the sandwiches to brown on the grill pan, the chorus for a song comes on and you started singing along quietly.

In the middle of your singing, you called out, "Come on Steve, which one is this from?"

While Steve wracked his brain, you acts out the scene the best you could as you sang, dropping the tune as you giggled gleefully. While watching you push yourself up onto the counter, he finally shouted, "The Little Mermaid!"

"You got it!" you replied, falling onto the floor in a heap of laughter.

Steve got up from his place on the bar stool and helped you off the floor while telling you, "You know, you have a really nice singing voice. Have you ever considered doing those musicals you love so much?"

"When I was about fifteen I used to daydream about being up on that stage in front of hundreds of people performing my heart out, but...then I told myself to be realistic," you said reflectively. "So that's when I got serious about writing."

"Oh come on, you can't let talent like that go to waste! That would be like me not being Captain America and using the abilities I've been given for good."

You raised your eyebrows at him before asking, "Like you have been the last few months?"

"That's different. I'm technically on the run from the Council," he said. A huff of a laugh left his lips before he said, "It's just... a very relaxed run where I go to Coney Island and watch Disney movies with you. More like a jog really." While he said this, he went back to the couch to sit with you while you waited for the sandwich timer to go off.

As you laughed at the comment, the front door to your apartment swung open. The person entered and had no time for pleasantries as they said, "Well you won't be for much longer, Captain."

You clutched your chest at the sudden appearance of Director Fury and Maria who held up her spare key to your place with a smirk. Steve sat up taller on the couch and asked, "And what may you mean by that, Director?"

"We need you, Rogers. SHIELD is reforming a team of very skilled tactical agents called STRIKE and we think you would be a great addition. Agent Romanoff recommended you."

"Do I really have a choice?" Steve asked.

"Not really," Maria informed him. "SHIELD wants you back in the game, Captain Rogers, and you'll find that it's hard to say no to SHIELD."

When Maria finished her sentence, Fury turned to you and said, "We'll need you too, Agent. All the STRIKE missions will need to be monitored and documented, and that's where you come in."

"Yes sir, whatever you need, I'm there. Where's the team located?"

"DC," he replied. "The agency will be able to set you both up with apartments there while the work is being done. We just don't know how long the stint there will last."

Your face fell a bit hearing that you would have to leave your apartment in Brooklyn. Maria noticed so she said, "So you don't have to lose this place, you could rent it to a temporary tenant while you're down there. This is prime real estate, I'm sure you could find someone quickly."

You nodded and looked over at the sandwiches on the grill and went to flip them while Fury and Maria continued telling Steve about the details of the task force. You cut the sandwiches in triangles and put them all on one plate, bringing them into the living area where the other three were speaking. As you placed them onto the table, you apologized, "I'm sorry, if I knew there would be more than just us I would have made more, but help yourselves, everyone."

Maria reached for a triangle and Fury shook his head, telling her, "I can't eat it if it's in the shape of a triangle."

You tilted your head a bit in confusion, fighting off the laugh that was building up before saying, "Well if you want I can make another and not cut it like that, Director."

Fury subtly looked at Steve and then you and then the movie screen and said, "I appreciate the offer, but Hill and I need to get going anyway. We need to round up a few more people to tell them about the team."

Maria shots Fury a slightly confused look while she took a bite of her sandwich, but got up anyway to follow him. He didn't tell her about any others they needed to visit... As they walked out the door though, she called, "Thank you for the food! Remember our plans for tomorrow after work!"

"Wouldn't dare forget," you called out as they shut the door behind them.  

Alone again and ready to watch a movie, you and Steve both reached for a sandwich on the plate and your hands brushed momentarily. You tried to ignore the beat your heart skipped while you apologized and reached for a different sandwich half on the opposite side of the plate.

"So what movie are we on now?" Steve asked, relaxing into the couch once more.

"Aladin," you replied after a few seconds, ignoring the slight shake in your hands. "Very good movie, lots of fun too," you said as you put your sandwich on a napkin to rest while you calmed yourself down by spinning the ring you wore on your thumb in circles.

Steve noticed the slight shaking in your hands and the spinning of the ring and asked, "You nervous about moving?"

You nodded and said, "That could be it. I just thought I finally found a place to settle down for a while and now I'm off again." This wasn't a complete lie, the thought of moving away from the last gift your grandfather gave you was upsetting, but it wasn't the reason your hands were shaking. After a few more seconds, you added on truthfully upon a realization, "And then there's Grammie... She's in a home right now and her nurses say she isn't doing too well... I would hate to be out of state and something happens to her."

"Hey, it'll all be okay. Hill will be there as well, so you'll still have a support group of us there for you. Work will keep you busy. I'm sure you'll be back before you know it," Steve assured you.

At the comforting words, you couldn't help but notice your heartbeat slow back to a normal pace. "Thank you," you told him with a soft smile on your lips.

"Anytime," he replied. "Now let's start this movie and forget about the rest of the world for a while, yeah?"

A few weeks later, you, Steve, Maria, and Fury were all successfully moved into your new places in DC. You had found a perfect tenant to rent your Brooklyn place to while you were gone: an artist who did cityscapes of the major cities of the world and parts of New York City were her next series. During the move, you kept in constant contact with Grammie, but you finally got to have a sit-down video chat with her when you got settled in.

"Hey, sweetie!" Grammie called brightly as she waved to her camera.

"Hey, Grammie! How have you been?"

"I've been doing okay, lots of medication lately. I have a nurse in here every other hour making sure I'm okay!" She turned the camera around to show you the nurse currently in her room. "Say hello to Emiliano! Don't tell anyone else but he's my favorite!"

You giggled and waved at the nurse who smiled back warmly. When Grammie turned the camera back to her, you said, "Well I'm glad you're in such good hands."

"Me too, honey. How have you been?"

You leaned back in your desk chair and sighed, admitting, "Stressed. Moving is a lot harder when you don't have a bag constantly packed to pick up and go like I used to growing up."

"I understand," Grammie said solemnly. "Tell me again why you moved?"

You heard the nurse say his goodbyes to Grammie, so you decided it would be okay to tell her, "Well I've been assigned to keep tabs on and document the missions of a special task force here in DC. It's made of the most elite agents in the agency."

"Oh, that sounds great! I'm happy you've come so far in your career! I remember when I was first teaching you the ins and outs of journalistic writing when you moved in with us. You picked everything up so quickly!"

You smiled, remembering one of the first genuinely happy moments of your upbringing. "See, all of this is thanks to you Grammie! I couldn't have done it without you!" As you said this, your phone started ringing with a call from Steve. "One sec, Grammie. I have to take this. Work." You hit the answer button and said, "Hey Steve, what's up?"

"Hey, Fury said he wants the whole crew to the Triskelion ASAP," he told you.

Your heart sunk knowing that you would have to cut the call with Grammie short, but you knew you couldn't disobey orders from the Director, so you replied, "Thanks for telling me, I'll be there shortly."

As you hung up the phone, Grammie asked, "Who was that?"

"Captain Rogers," you replied quietly.

"Captain Steve Rogers... why... isn't that Captain America, sweetie?"

Your heart broke a little hearing this because you had discussed Steve with her before, but she was forgetting things now. You tried to not let the feelings show so you mustered up a smile for Grammie and said brightly, "Yep, that's him!"

"That's wonderful, honey!" Grammie replied with a smile. "Now it sounded important, so I'll let you go, but when we have time to call again, remind me to tell you a story about that Captain Rogers."

"I can't wait to hear it," you told her, happy that she still seemed to have her memories from the more distant past.

"Well, I'll talk to you later, I love you, sweetie!"

"I love you too, Grammie."

When the call ended and the screen went dark, tears begin to escape your eyes. Grammie seemed to be getting worse and didn't even know it. Her optimism was something that you always admired, but you just wished you could be there for her.

When you arrived for the meeting, you quickly wiped away your tears before getting out of the car. As you walked through the parking garage to get inside, one of the other journalists called your name and waved. You put on a smile and replied, "Hey Sandra! How's your latest report going?"

"Going great! I just wish I was at the level to do cool stuff like you do. I mean...your report on the Avengers?? That was so good! It really captured the battle well."

"Thank you," you replied as you swiped your card to gain access into the building. "The news stations really drank all of it up. One even approached me asking if I could do a thirty-minute segment on the battle, but Fury denied their request."

"Oh boo," Sandra replied with a laugh.

As you both walked further into the building, you saw Steve leaning against the wall waiting on you while chatting with Maria. He raised a hand in greeting and you did the same in return. "Well, that's my cue, I'll see you later."

"See ya!" Sandra replied as she headed off to the newsroom.

You walked up to the pair and said your greetings before you all started the walk to the conference room where Fury and the others would be meeting. Maria pulled you back from being in stride with Steve and asked, "Hey, are you okay?"

You sighed, replying, "I've been better, why do you ask?"

"Well I can just tell you've been crying and I wanted to check in."

"Shit," you cursed, "is it that noticeable?"

Maria sent her a small smile and assured you, "No, no, it's not bad, I've just known you long enough to tell. But really, what's wrong?"

"I'd rather not get into it until after the meeting, I don't want to risk crying again in front of everyone. Especially not Fury."

"I understand," Maria replied as you all approached the conference room. "Just breathe."

You nodded as you walked through the door Steve held open for you and Maria. After the three of you got seated and a few others arrived, the meeting commenced with Fury and Maria making sure everyone on the team knew their position and role for the task force. 

[etheririi]

🪶🕸️

The below written parts are a bit long, so tldr at end!

🪶 - What’s something you’re passionate about?

I'm really passionate about art! Specifically visual arts. Some of my current fixations on art include painting, crocheting, clay modelling, and model making!! My digital art is quite bad considering I didn't do any for years until about two months ago. But my traditional art? I'd say it's pretty good. (Atleast for my age) ...Or maybe I just like to boast-

I also really like to draw concepts of different ocs or make new characters! Though most of them don't actually end up on paper and just exist in some corner of my mind

Since I already have posted some of my crochet projects here, I'll share a painting that I'm really proud of :D

(It's from around 6 months ago and the quality is shit)

🕸️ - What’s an idea you had for a story, art piece, etc that you never created?

One thing about me: I daydream. A LOT. Which means I create a lot of scenarios in my head on a daily basis. So in terms of a story or an art piece, theres a lot that I haven't done because,, studies and other life stuff. For art pieces, I rarely have some idea that I haven't created as I either actually create the idea, or just scrap it and throw it away as to not overwhelm myself.

But currently I have 3 fixed worlds or stories in my head that I rotate around in my head. (Even though I do have other scenarios pop up lol) And I've just yesterday gotten an app to write it all down so that I can probably turn it into something! :D in a few days I might even share some of it here based on how much I like it after-

But a basic outline of one of them is that there's one person, they're the hero of the story, they save everyone, is regarded as a good person and they try "immortalizing" themself into a god for personal goals and it goes wrong, they don't like the feeling of reverence, feel suffocated and just,, run away. Centuries later, the worshipping that is done for this hero after they are a "god" is actually taking a turn for the worse as it's becoming evil. And some people want to save it and help people (they're the main characters) Also these ppl later find out that the main "god" or hero is alive and whatever happened is because of their shitty choices (they're just a silly lil person) <3

I apologize if the above part is not understandable as I'm not very good at putting my thoughts into words.. I still have to work on it a bit more as I've focused a tad bit more on the world building than story.

(Congrats you now know more about me than my irl friends)

~~~~~~~

TLDR;

🪶 - What’s something you’re passionate about?

I'm really passionate about art! I like crocheting, painting, model making and clay modelling the most

🕸️ - What’s an idea you had for a story, art piece, etc that you never created?

Nearly all the stories I have ever thought of are technically not created.. I've just recently started to actually document some of it

[questioningespecialy]

i’m constantly reminded of mortality, and it doesn’t bother me the way you’d think

repost from that time i deleted an article i spent 4 days on T-T actual post this time since i somehow posted it privately yesterday 😭

---

Hi, I’m Questioning. And I like to waste my life away dedicate my free time to random hobbies that catch my hyperfixation interest on the fly. Currently, I’ve returned to something most important. Updating the encyclopedia-esque database of AlternativeTo.net. o_o

Let me finish.

See, I started exploring the world of Visual Novel (VN) makers, which led to me discovering the world of Interactive Fiction (IF)–their predecessor afaic. And that’s where it got strange. What I’ve found is interesting developments in terms of innovation and such. Like Undum (image)–“a game framework for building a sophisticated form of hypertext interactive fiction” according to its GitHub. IFWiki calls it “an authoring system for CYOA-style stories playable on web browsers.” It was created by I.D. Millington in 2009, released in 2010, had returned in 2018, and would’ve changed the IF genre (kinda like Twine did) if not for how hard it was to get into.

Undum’s flexibility and power have made it the engine that drove some of the most significant works in IF (The Play, Almost Goodbye). But it has always been relatively inaccessible. Undum is not the system of choice for writing straightforward hypertext games; it’s a challenging system to learn and use that demands the author build their own engine on top of it to drive their game logic. Consider Raconteur for “Undum with batteries included.” -Bruno Dias (x)

Enter Raconteur, “a friendlier way to write Undum hypertext fiction” that was announced by Bruno Dias in 2015. More accurately described as “a library of Undum tools that can get someone writing their story quickly.” Here’s the thing about the “library of Undum tools” part: Undum did not come prepackaged with any… even though they were required to write your game,…😐 which “meant doing a lot of your own tooling.” 😑

Yeah, no surprise it won the award for Best Technological Development in XYZZY Awards 2015.

But hold up, somethin’ ain’t right…

Undum’s only got 21 games on IFDB.org and Raconteur’s got 4… with 1 overlap with Undum. 😐

So~… wth?

Well, someone else had a similar question on intfiction.org in March and got Josh Grams’ opinion on it: JavaScript.

🤷🏿‍♂️

So even though Undum was designed as the visual version of bookbinding and with the specific goals “aesthetic” & “technical” in mind, shit’s too intimidating compared to alternatives.

I hoped [writing Undum in JavaScript] would make it accessible for a wider range of dabblers, requiring transferable skills rather than learning a new language. It also made it achievable to write and document over a few weekends: I didn’t have to worry about parsing, or creating a complete runtime. But the best benefit, and in some ways the one least exploited in practice, is the ability to use Undum as part of a bigger game. I imagined a strategy game with CYOA elements, or a piece of interactive fiction using natural language generation to be different each time. -Ian Millington (x)

And here’s~ where it gets a bit fucked.

Remember the other person who had a similar question–J. J. Guest? Well, they ended their post with “Was it simply superseded by Ink / Inky?”

Let’s keep this simple:

Ink [image] is the core narrative engine itself, written in C#. It includes the code for the compiler. If you’re not technical, you don’t need to worry about this. Inky [image] is our ink editor, which is a text editor with support for playing as you write. If you’re just starting out with ink, this is all you need. inkle is the game development studio that created ink (x)

So it’s “a narrative scripting language for games” and yet another CYOA maker. Why do I bring them up? Well, Inkle (the company) “was founded in 2011 by two Cambridge game developers [Joseph Humfrey & Jon Ingold] with a passion for storytelling and beautiful design” (x). They started off with their unique “inklebook” format, which had an early prototype game in ~2008 that Jon described as

an iPad-based choice-driven story made of ‘pages’ which stitched together into a single flow via frequent choice points. It was a lovely UI for a choice-based game, even in prototype form, and we had a strong scripting language underneath it – the first version of ink. (x)

In January of 2012, they released “a web-tool for writing and reading simple interactive stories” called inklewriter. Joseph described it as “a simpler subset of the inklebook format” (x) and admitted “inklewriter was partly born out of the surprise that there isn’t anything out there for quickly and easily writing non-linearly.” (x)

After already having “moved away from developing inklewriter for a long time,” it went “permanent beta” in September of 2017 due to “increasing frequency of persistent bug-reports.” Sad news considering the statement “we’ve had hundreds of thousands of stories created by hundreds of thousands of users; we’ve won awards from school and library associations; and hopefully we’ve helped kickstart a few interactive writers careers” (x). And since writers (who became aware in time) were able to “rescue” their story from the bugs and potential wipeout with a simple Save Page As, it was probably a bit less heartbreaking when inkle revealed less than a year later that inklewriter would be shutting down completely in August of 2018. Seemingly because “it’s real work to fix the issues that arise” with the constant browser changes. 😐

Only 7 months later, it returned in March of 2019. Stable, still free, and now open-source after developers in the open-source community “produced a full port of inklewriter to modern web-tech.” 🥳 Writers needed to make new accounts and import their stories to the new database, but that was it. And since the legacy version was (and is) still around, they could do it pretty quickly. (x)

But where dahell was I going with this? Let me tell you about the original connection first: Unity Integration.

The [ink-unity-integration] plugin provides you with everything you need to get started with ink in Unity. It automatically recompiles ink files as you edit them, and even comes with a simple previewer that lets you play stories directly within the Editor, without writing a line of code. (x)

Remember Ian Millington’s statement from awhile ago? “But the best benefit, and in some ways the one least exploited in practice, is the ability to use Undum as part of a bigger game. I imagined a strategy game with CYOA elements, or a piece of interactive fiction using natural language generation to be different each time.” (x)

Well,… Stoic Studio (announced that they) did it in January 2013 when they used inklewriter for The Banner Saga. Though, inkle recommends you use their ink scripting language instead for Unity projects. 🤷🏿‍♀️ A scripting language that was ported to JavaScript in May of 2016, btw. The port (inkjs) having its latest release just 6 freaking days ago while Undum and Raconteur had their last GitHub edits in 2018 & 2020 respectively.

Either way, Ian’s imagination of “a strategy game with CYOA elements” happened… with another mofo’s software. 😐

And what’s that? I left something out?

I left working on Undum to develop Varytale, a short lived commercial IF endeavour that shared a lot of the same aesthetic and narrative structure. And then I retired, and it lay fallow, aside from email help requests that still drip into my inbox. -Ian Millington (x)

Let’s see what IFWiki says about this endeavor:

Varytale was a platform for authoring and publishing browser-based CYOA, created by Ian Millington and Alexis Kennedy; it occupied a point somewhere between Undum and StoryNexus [a comparatively mostly defunct endeavor from 2012]. The Varytale website was live from approximately 2011 to 2015. The first posts on Varytale’s blog appeared in June 2011. On March 7, 2014, Varytale posted a comment on the Varytale Facebook page saying, “The project is stalled, due to key people leaving the project. So there’s no news, and I’m not sure if or when there will be.” The last Wayback Machine snapshot of www.varytale.com/books was taken in September 2015. (x)

On its May of 2012 public beta announcement on FailbetterGames website, something slightly poignant was said.

But the technology is great [seriously] - it’s easily the most flexible and powerful tool of its kind, and it’ll be fascinating to see what people can do with it once the writers’ programme opens up. And as it happens, Jon Ingold / Joseph Humfrey’s very elegant inklewriter has also just gone live [4 months prior]. (…) …[inklewriter] covers some of the same territory as Varytale, but it’s (by design) simpler in concept and execution. (x)

Life is truly cruel.

If you check the archive from possibly days before its shut down in September of 2015, you’ll see 4 official books (Bee, Fighting, How To Read, Hymn & Shanty) and 3 User Published Books (London Road, Sixth Tower, Tillinghast). That’s 7… 7 books. 😐

But it’s not that sad. According to the Varytale blog’s 2nd to last post (in June of 2012), “we passed 50,000 reads across the seven books currently on our reader’s beta.” This was perhaps a full week after they released the floodgates and actually allowed people to start readin’. Das alot to me. They clearly succeeded in “building a platform for authors to write great books, and for publishers to publish them.” Even built a whole-ass “system that does generative design,” creating “artwork based on the author’s choice of patterned design or photograph” (x). Or, as we’d quickly say 12 years later, some AI shit.

So wut 👏🏿 in da fuq 👏🏿

Why’d they never get past the 7 book mark in the 2 years between Reader’s Beta and project stallation? Well,… there’s a hint at the end of that 2012 blog post: “We have a queue of people wanting to write content, who are been added a few at a time. So lots of hard work in the beta still to go.” hm~ 🤔

If The Way Back Machine had archives past January of 2013, we’d definitely know more, but this is it (i ain’t diggin’ a wider hole at this point). And what is it? I think it’s a matter of workload. Too much for too few people who had however much goin’ on in their lives. Remember much earlier this bit from IFWiki?

On March 7, 2014, Varytale posted a comment on the Varytale Facebook page saying, “The project is stalled, due to key people leaving the project. (x)

Maybe things weren’t smooth enough for awhile. Maybe it was something else for those 2 years prior. 🤷🏿‍♂️ And you know… the end of Emily Short’s blog post Writing for Varytale might hold the answer.

There are still some challenges about using the Varytale system, though it’s evolved tremendously over the course of beta. One of the biggest authorial challenges is that, while there’s the awesome structure tool shown above for looking at branching structure inside a storylet, it can be considerably more challenging to get a view of what’s going on at the macro level. And I’m not even sure what the tool for this ought to look like. The strength of storylets is that they can affect which other ones pop up in a fairly freeform way, and one can affect another (via their shared stat use) without explicit logic in either. But that’s also what makes it really hard to graph how they will act. Most of the bugs that arose in Bee were related to this issue of envisioning the total structure of the work and detecting storylets that were going to break that structure. (x)

So in this case aswell, the innovations of Ian’s Varytale make it… (a bit) intimidating to work with. 😑Whether or not this difficulty was ever ironed out post-beta is unknown to me, especially considering the end of Ian’s thankful response to Tom H.’s suggestion for fixing the macro level problem: “When will I get chance to code it? That’s a whole other matter!”

…hm~

And on the same post lies magnus4444’s statement that “There isn’t a lot of documentation out there yet on the implementation of more advanced effects but, on the plus side, Ian is generous with advice and tips.”

🤷🏿‍♀️

So wtf do we have here. Effectively two developers (i’m simplifying it; fight me) who 1) made a CYOA maker (Undum & inklewriter) for very similar reasons, 2) put development aside to focus on other CYOA makers (Varytale & Inky), 3) had their neglected work taken up by open-source developers for the good of everyone, and 4) reaped the benefit of the other’s labor in some way. Now, here’s where we’re back to the sad part. Inkle’s version of the tale is the American Dream ™. Inklewriter was beloved by many and had mainstream success. Ian’s version is the harsh American Reality. Undum only bore 24+ games over the course of its 13 year existence on the internet and in the world of IF. And if a single person’s opinion is to be taken as fact… then the reason was simple: shit wasn’t easy to pickup. And thus, regardless of Ian & Bruno’s efforts, it (at this rate) is bound to become an obscure software regardless of its potential. All while Varytale remains gone and Inky (released in June of 2016) is still goin’ strong with 160+ games released using its Ink language/engine.

Which brings me back to the matter…

i’m constantly reminded of [my] mortality