#this is like a one page quick idea i needed out of system + while experimenting with a diff style of comic formatting than im used to

[thebrainrotsreal]

aaa, just came across your and avis’ AU today and i just want to say its so AMAZING 🥹🥹!!! Would love to see more of Wasp and Mark from you guys 💓

Oh my goodness, thank you so much!! (♡°▽°♡) @avisisisis has such incredible ideas that rlly brought it to life when we kept chatting about it! I def gonna draw more of these two, because oh my goodness I love thinking about them! Working on a rlly quick comic to explore an idea, (just one page rlly) so here's a sneak peak! :D

Bonus fun fact for ya, I will always always always draw Wasp with two downward curls on his left side, while Mark always has a one curl on his left.

[lifehacksthatwork]

Just a bunch of Useful websites - Updated for 2023

Removed/checked all links to make sure everything is working (03/03/23). Hope they help!

Sejda - Free online PDF editor.

Supercook - Have ingredients but no idea what to make? Put them in here and it'll give you recipe ideas.

Still Tasty - Trying the above but unsure about whether that sauce in the fridge is still edible? Check here first.

Archive.ph - Paywall bypass. Like 12ft below but appears to work far better and across more sites in my testing. I'd recommend trying this one first as I had more success with it.

12ft – Hate paywalls? Try this site out.

Where Is This - Want to know where a picture was taken, this site can help.

TOS/DR - Terms of service, didn't read. Gives you a summary of terms of service plus gives each site a privacy rating.

OneLook - Reverse dictionary for when you know the description of the word but can't for the life of you remember the actual word.

My Abandonware - Brilliant site for free, legal games. Has games from 1978 up to present day across pc and console. You'll be surprised by some of the games on there, some absolute gems.

Project Gutenberg – Always ends up on these type of lists and for very good reason. All works that are copyright free in one place.

Ninite – New PC? Install all of your programs in one go with no bloat or unnecessary crap.

PatchMyPC - Alternative to ninite with over 300 app options to keep upto date. Free for home users.

Unchecky – Tired of software trying to install additional unwanted programs? This will stop it completely by unchecking the necessary boxes when you install.

Sci-Hub – Research papers galore! Check here before shelling out money. And if it’s not here, try the next link in our list.

LibGen – Lots of free PDFs relate primarily to the sciences.

Zotero – A free and easy to use program to collect, organize, cite and share research.

Car Complaints – Buying a used car? Check out what other owners of the same model have to say about it first.

CamelCamelCamel – Check the historical prices of items on Amazon and set alerts for when prices drop.

Have I Been Pawned – Still the king when it comes to checking if your online accounts have been released in a data breach. Also able to sign up for email alerts if you’ve ever a victim of a breach.

I Have No TV - A collection of documentaries for you to while away the time. Completely free.

Radio Garden – Think Google Earth but wherever you zoom, you get the radio station of that place.

Just The Recipe – Paste in the url and get just the recipe as a result. No life story or adverts.

Tineye – An Amazing reverse image search tool.

My 90s TV – Simulates 90’s TV using YouTube videos. Also has My80sTV, My70sTV, My60sTV and for the younger ones out there, My00sTV. Lose yourself in nostalgia.

Foto Forensics – Free image analysis tools.

Old Games Download – A repository of games from the 90’s and early 2000’s. Get your fix of nostalgia here.

Online OCR – Convert pictures of text into actual text and output it in the format you need.

Remove Background – An amazingly quick and accurate way to remove backgrounds from your pictures.

Twoseven – Allows you to sync videos from providers such as Netflix, Youtube, Disney+ etc and watch them with your friends. Ad free and also has the ability to do real time video and text chat.

Terms of Service, Didn’t Read – Get a quick summary of Terms of service plus a privacy rating.

Coolors – Struggling to get a good combination of colors? This site will generate color palettes for you.

This To That – Need to glue two things together? This’ll help.

Photopea – A free online alternative to Adobe Photoshop. Does everything in your browser.

BitWarden – Free open source password manager.

Just Beam It - Peer to peer file transfer. Drop the file in on one end, click create link and send to whoever. Leave your pc on that page while they download. Because of how it works there are no file limits. It's genuinely amazing. Best file transfer system I have ever used.

Atlas Obscura – Travelling to a new place? Find out the hidden treasures you should go to with Atlas Obscura.

ID Ransomware – Ever get ransomware on your computer? Use this to see if the virus infecting your pc has been cracked yet or not. Potentially saving you money. You can also sign up for email notifications if your particular problem hasn’t been cracked yet.

Way Back Machine – The Internet Archive is a non-profit library of millions of free books, movies, software, music, websites and loads more.

Rome2Rio – Directions from anywhere to anywhere by bus, train, plane, car and ferry.

Splitter – Seperate different audio tracks audio. Allowing you to split out music from the words for example.

myNoise – Gives you beautiful noises to match your mood. Increase your productivity, calm down and need help sleeping? All here for you.

DeepL – Best language translation tool on the web.

Forvo – Alternatively, if you need to hear a local speaking a word, this is the site for you.

For even more useful sites, there is an expanded list that can be found here.

[bakuhatsufallinlove]

Who Wants To Talk About Japanese Orthography In Manga???

Me, it's me, I do, and I have been chomping at the bit to get the chance to.

Orthography refers to the conventions of written language to represent sounds. That may bring to mind the idea of rigid grammar rules or spelling standardization, but in a linguistic sense, orthography simply describes observable trends across language use. This isn't about authority--I am not going to talk about what schools teach or say people should write one way or another. This is about examining how real people use written language creatively to convey different things in popular media.

This is a huge topic, so I'm only going to use examples from MHA to highlight Horikoshi's style.

First, let's get a run-down of the main parts of written Japanese and how they tend to be used.

We've got kanji and kana; kanji are logograms, while kana are syllabaries. Kana refers to both hiragana and katakana collectively, but we will delineate the two from here on.

The Wikipedia page for kanji, describing this more succinctly than I'm about to.

For clarity, I'm gonna color-code each one.

Let's take a quick look at all three in action.

Chapter 65

By virtue of being the syllabary that grammar particles are written in, hiragana can get away with a lot that kanji and katakana can't.

You can write simple sentences in hiragana alone, like so:

The sentence is perfectly comprehensible like this, but it reads as casual or perhaps a bit immature, like the person is either leaving out kanji for speed or simplicity (like online) or they aren't confident using kanji. Although, the word hito (person) is extremely common and its kanji is simple, so this would probably look more natural:

But there are also kanji for the word kawaii, so you could also write it this way:

On the other hand, writing the whole thing in katakana looks weird as fuck:

bECAuSE iT kINDA reADS LIKE THis, or maybe L I K E T H I S

It seems almost alien, overemphasizing the phonetic sound of the words, implying there's something notable or unusual about them.

But what if you write it like this?

Both ways use katakana to put flavor on a specific word. The first puts it on person, which could be used in a situation where someone hasn't been named yet, but the speaker tonally emphasizes your knowledge of them--like "oh, you know who."

The second emphasizes cute, which could read as sexually suggestive, teasing/joking, or even a threatening tone, depending on the context. "Real cute, ain't they?"

Basically, the connecting grammar bits need to be in hiragana, but nouns, verbs, and adjectives can typically be written in any of the three systems. That introduces choice into the matter, and these choices may have some cultural connotations.

This is a subtlety in written Japanese that manga loves to take advantage of. Orthography contributes a lot to characterization and tone, so individual creators develop little quirks as part of their own writing style.

Now let's finally take a gander at some of Horikoshi's!

Kanji instead of hiragana for semantic emphasis

Chapter 48

Best Jeanist could have used only hiragana for the word "good" (いい, ii), which is a very common way to write it. But he's not just commenting that they are nice kids, he's talking about them as "goodie two-shoes" and even puts brackets around the idea. The kanji emphasizes the cultural idea of a Good Child™, a well-behaved, morally upright, obedient young person.

Kanji instead of hiragana denoting a serious or severe tone

Chapter 36

Katsuki's "you" pronoun omae being written with kanji comes across as markedly serious, especially compared to how his dialogue is normally written. This is actually the only time Katsuki says omae and it is written with kanji--all the rest are in hiragana, which tends to read as more casual.

Hiragana instead of kanji denoting a gentle tone or youthful/childlike language

Chapters 129 and 183

Katsuki and his omae show us how kanji use can be seen as more mature and serious; Eri's dialogue does the opposite of this by using hiragana when it could use kanji, emphasizing her youth and innocence.

Katakana instead of hiragana or kanji for emphasis or slang

Chapters 209, 207, and 2

As I detailed above, one of katakana's most common uses is similar to italics or all-caps.

But you also tend to see slang written with it, and depending on the slang, the word being in katakana can immediately clarify it from other, perhaps more standard meanings. In Jirou's case, her personal pronoun uchi can mean a couple other things, so it being written in katakana clarifies her usage. It could arguably also imply she is taking a bit of an argumentative tone--Katsuki's slang is typically written in katakana for both of these reasons!

Katakana denoting regional dialect/accent, nonstandard pronunciation/muddled speech, or confused articulation

Chapters 102, 208, 394, and 2

Ochako gets flustered and defaults to her regional Kansai dialect. Instead of "chigau wa" (Tokyo dialect), she says "chau wa" repeatedly.

Katsuki and Toga both drop the w- sound from a word. Katsuki says "ore a" instead of "ore wa," while Toga says the word "kawaiku" as "ka'aiku" and "kawaii" as "ka'aii." Notice how the katakana which represents the vocal omission/hiccup is actually smaller than the others? That's also a little stylistic detail for communicating this kind of nonstandard speech.

Izuku repeats All Might's words, chikara wo, in a confused daze because he isn't following All Might's point. By removing the kanji especially, this kind of katakana emphasizes him sounding the words out without recognizing the underlying meaning.

Basically, Japanese has some excellent ~vibes-based~ orthography because of how the language is structured!

Of course, you find this kind of thing in English as well--especially in the age of the internet, where people note that "how dare u" reads as tonally distinct from "how dare you." As you develop language fluency, you tend to pick up these things subconsciously more than anything, but it's one of my favorite things to analyze and compare.

These are just a few examples and my own interpretations of them. I'm sure there are many more uses and flavor-nuance I'm not picking up on. Since any given choice can be read a few different ways, context is very important. My examples aren't definitive proof of anything, but it can be fun to keep these kinds of details in mind while reading.

Shueisha and Shonen Jump surely have in-house standards for text, and mangaka must operate within that range. That said, I have indeed seen every one of these examples in other manga as well.

And on the independent side of things, doujinshi and online manga are basically the wild frickin' west--I have seen tons of totally crazy, highly creative ways to take advantage of the unique flexibility found in Japanese, but that's a post for another day.

I will probably write more about this kind of thing in the future when I can pinpoint some more observations, but I hope you all enjoyed the ride. <3

[svt-nari]

Hiii! Can you do a post about the NANA TOUR PLEASEEE🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

a/n: i finished watching nana tour a few days ago and finally decided to write about nari’s experience there! hope you like it bae <3 (not proofread yet, sorry for any mistakes!)

nana tour highlighted moments:

nari’s mission:

“oh~ i’m excited to get my mission!”, she squirmed in her seat, a large smile present on her face.

“okay, okay.” na pd laughed, messing with the cards. “pick it up!”

nari eagerly picked up the card, laughing out loud when she read her mission. she looked at the crew in disbelief, loving how easy her challenge was.

“it’s so easy! it’ll be over in minutes!”, she laughed.

“what is it, tell us,”

she turned the card around, giggling while the camera focused on the words written on it. ‘get at least five members to join you in a dance performance.’ was written in korean on the paper, nari giggling once again as she thought of them dancing.

“i hope it’s as easy as you say. i think they’ll be doubting every step you take.” na pd laughed.

“oh~ get a few drinks in their system and we are ready!”

dinari moment:

nari was peacefully laying down on the ground while reading a random book coups put in her bag so she could distract herself, a small smile present on her face from reading the little notes he left on the pages he thought that needed to be highlighted. she heard humming behind her but could care less about it as she was immersed by the book.

dino sighed as he entered the living room, plopping down on the floor next to nari and scooting over to read the book with her.

“was it coups hyung who wrote this?”, he questioned, smiling slightly at how cute the couple was.

nari nodded, sighing right after. she missed him a lot, she wished he could be with them. sadly it was impossible due to his condition, he needed to rest as much as possible to come back soon.

chan sighed too, a bit sad at seeing her upset about the whole ordeal. he scooted closer to her and gave nari a side hug, snuggling closer to her side. nari smiled and returned the hug, sneakily putting her hand in his head to pet it, just like she did back in their trainee days. the both of them sighed contentedly, opting to stay in this moment for a little longer.

little did they know that some of the other members were watching them adoringly from afar, taking pictures to capture the adorable moment forever.

mission time!

nari was feeling a little bored after eating dinner and decided to lay a bit on the couch, doing nothing but scrolling through tiktok. as she ended up scrolling through a challenge, nari suddenly got an idea to start her own mission. sneakily she sent it on the group chat, asking if anyone wanted to do it with her.

enthusiastically, hoshi, seungkwan, mingyu and vernon agreed to it. nari got confused when the american boy agreed but accepted it nonetheless, though, she still needed one more member to agree so she could be done with the mission.

me anyone else wanna join? we need one more person to be in sync like the video…

junie ⁉️ if there’s still room i’m in!

nari laughed mischievously to herself and got up, sending a quick message so the guys would come towards her. she quickly set up her phone and waited for them to come, doing a few touch ups on her clothes.

“noona~”, seungkwan sang playfully, hugging her arm.

“kwanie~”, she imitated him, squeezing his cheek softly. “where are the others?”, she questioned him as only seungkwan and vernon came to the living room.

“ah, mingyu is changing, hoshi needed to use the bathroom and i don’t know about jun.” vernon quickly explained and nari thanked him, asking them if they wanted to practice the quick choreography.

just as they started rewatching the video, jun sneakily appeared behind them, softly putting his hand on nari’s shoulder. that ended up startling her, in which she ended up screaming from the jumpscare.

“jun-ah!”, she yelled out, wide eyed. “you almost killed me!”

he sheepishly smiled and apologized, giving nari a quick pat on the head as they went back to watching the video. the four started to learn the choreography little by little, laughing here and there whenever they messed up.

“i can’t believe this!”, hoshi fake-cried. “you started without me!?”

they only mocked him, mingyu laughed at that and joined them in a newly dressed shirt that he bought in italy and some sweatpants. they quickly got the choreography after that and started to take different videos of the dance to decided which one got better.

as they finished, nari smirked naughtily towards a camera and giggled, sending the video to cheol with ‘i just made these dorks do my mission without them knowing 😋’ written underneath the sent video.

revealing herself:

“so, nari, did you complete your mission?”, na pd asked, pushing his glasses higher. “you said it was easy so i expect you did.”

nari giggled and gave him a thumbs up, the other members’ eyes widening while they all started to speculate what her mission could possibly be.

“noona, you were so quiet the whole day! there’s no way you did it!”, chan wondered.

“right, nari-ah.”, wonwoo interrupted. “even i thought you were a bit too quiet, that’s a lot…”

well, they weren’t exaclty wrong. nari had in fact been quiet the whole day, the reason being her missing cheol more than expected. she was having fun, sure, but being away from him made her feel a bit sad at times. nari even called him a few times that day – something that she does on a daily basis, but not more than two times per day. seungcheol found it weird too, but since he also missed her he didn’t ask about it.

“i told you why i was quiet when kwanie interrogated me at the kitchen.”, she laughed slightly. “but i did complete my mission!”

“can you show us?”

immediately she got her phone and turned it towards the entire table, bursting in a laughing fit when she saw their reactions. the members in the video were feeling even more betrayed, with seungkwan and jun having agape mouths and shocked looks on their faces. vernon had his iconic ‘o’ expression while mingyu and hoshi were pointing at her in disbelief of the situation.

“so, can you tell us your mission again?”, na pd laughed, loving the chaos.

“well…”, she hid her phone, smiling sweetly. “i had to get at least five members to perform a dance with me!”

then chaos broke once again as everyone felt betrayed by their older sister.

whisper game:

as they were in a uneven number, the members decided to let nari pick whoever she wanted to pair up with. she ended up being the last member to go, so she decided on seungkwan. they all – but seungkwan – complained about her choice and the only answer she gave them was:

“he’s funnier than all of you combined, so shut up.”, which made them burst out laughing at her nonchalant expression.

nari’s head bopped to the beat, she was so distracted by it that she didn’t even see seungkwan trying to get her attention. ‘drunk-dazed’ by enhypen was blasting her ears, the woman being unable to contain herself was dancing to her heart’s content. the boys laughed at her carefree attitude, dancing as if there was no one else there.

“HWANG NARI!”, seungkwan yelled in her face. “let’s start?”

startled she nodded, facing forward as mingyu stands behind her with the written word towards seungkwan only. everyone laughed as soon as they saw it, going crazy as they knew fans would love this specific part of the episode. the word ‘wedding’ was written in korea hadnwriting, seungkwan being open mouthed while trying to think of what to say.

“okay!”, he started. “ring!”, he shouted.

“RING!”, nari yelled out, receiving a nod from seungkwan and laughs from the other people present.

“woah, noona’s voice can get loud!”, vernon said impressed.

“special ring!”, the boy tried once again.

“oh!”, she thought. “OH! ENGAGEMENT!”

“OTHER WORD FOR THAT!”, seungkwan said enthusiastically.

“proposal?”, she wondered, receiving a head shake in response. “wedding?”, she said, getting an excited nod from her dongsaeng. “WEDDING! oh-“, she pouted. “i miss cheollie now.”

the staff cooed at her, the boys either rolling their eyes or booing her words. nari just shrugged, claiming ‘you are just jealous that you won’t get married like me’ which made them boo her even louder.

-

“HWANG NARI!”, seungkwan stressed. “PAY ATTENTION TO MY MOUTH!”

“i don’t think our leader is gonna like seungkwan’s words…”, jun wondered, which made everyone roar in laughter.

“YOU DON’T MAKE SENSE!”, nari yelled back. “i can’t hear you anyways…”

seungkwan sighed stressed, trying to keep himself sane while playing the game with her. mingyu laughed while holding the big card while silently asking if seungkwan wanted to pass the ‘yogurt’ word in which the youngest nodded in defeat. though, the next word made him smile big as he knew she would guess it right away.

“FAVORITE ICE CREAM!”, he yelled.

“MINE OR YOURS?”, nari yelled back.

the members were all slightly cringing from how loud the two were speaking, though they were being the funniest duo in the game. nari seemed unbothered at all times while seungkwan stressed over trying to make her understand what he wanted to say.

“YOURS!”

“oh.”, she thought. “i don’t have one tho…”

everyone bursted out laughing at that.

“THE ONE YOU EAT THE MOST!”, seungkwan tried once again.

“oh!”, she smiled happily. “cookies and cream.”

“right!”, seungkwan smiled. “now a cookie brand.”

“a what?”

“cookie,” he said slowly. “brand.”

nari scratched her head slightly as she thought of something to say. a sudden look of realization crossed her features as she stopped in her tracks, smiling big as she shouted out her answer. quick images of her cat flashing through her mind

“OREO!”, she jumped in her seat. “OREO! OREO!”

seungkwan nodded to her and was ready to say she succeeded, though, right on cue the timer set off, indicating their time to invert positions had come. they quickly complied and seungkwan sighed out once at his new seat.

“god…”, he took his headphones off for a breather. “i feel like i just lost ten years of life…”

“well,” nari smiled sweetly at him, getting up to stand in front of him. “sorry not sorry an mianhaeseo mianhae~”, she started to sing and dance to itzy’s song, making everyone laugh once again.

all rights reserved © svt-nari, 2024

[theresattrpgforthat]

How about any TTRPGs set underwater that aren't horror themed?

THEME: Underwater Games.

Hello friend! I am so sorry that your asks got eaten - I'm glad to have them back! (It looks like Tabletop Trick or Treat unearthed a few gems.)

Now, let's see what kind of underwater games I can fish up for you!

Deepwater Enclaves, by kiryas.

Just plain old air pollution? A failed weather control experiment? Or more sinister forces? Nobody will know for sure why earth cooled below a dark mantle of clouds in the 1980s. Agriculture could not adapt fast enough and when conventional battles for the few remaining natural resources close to the equatorial line erupted into full-scale nuclear war, humanity was on the brink of extinction. Less than five hundred thousand mostly malnourished, freezing humans were left, when the year 2000 began.

This game is about venturing from a safe Community into the unknown. At the core are taking risks for your loved ones; sometimes this is at odds with your individual motives.

Deepwater Enclaves is a Rooted in Trophy game that contains a number of roll tables with evocative choices, and a community creation that involves the entire table. As players, you play both your character and a member of the community who is important to someone else. You play through a series of scenes, structured in a similar way to the way you might set up a scene in a tv show.

To participate in a scene, if you are not one of the original characters set to play a role, other players must spend a token. These tokens are also used to affect outcomes from when you roll, as well as reduce risks that may pop up as you play. You need two different colours or shades of d6’s for this: one colour will represent regular dice, while the other will represent “dark” dice, which raise the stakes whenever you roll with them.

Overall, I think this game is about exploration and survival. I think it has the potential to be a horror game if you want it to be, but you can also alter the tone to redirect the story towards something more dramatic, perhaps centring the game more on your community, and awarding the players with enough tokens to give them the ability to pull themselves out of danger.

Carcinauts!, by Hessan Yongdi.

Carcinauts! is inspired by a famous British children's animated TV show that takes place in and around the sea. You play animal explorers, scientists, and rescuers. Joined by your many friends and helpers, you seek to learn more about our fascinating oceans. Make the world a better place for the animals who live in and around the Great Blue Sea!

Based on the prolific Dominus system created by members of the Brazilian RPG community, Carcinauts! is designed to allow for quick play without a game master. This makes it idea for a solo session in the Sea or a team adventure, using the tables to build out your story. Its simple rules based around d6s and largely non-violent topic materials also make this game child-friendly.

Carcinauts is a two-page game that feels a little bit like a kid’s show; you are all underwater animal explorers, going on missions and solving problems. The resolution of the game is called the Dilemma oracle, and is fairly simple. You must determine two possible outcomes or answers, and then roll 1d6. On a 1-3 the first option is true, on a 4-6 a second option is true. These outcomes need not necessarily be “success” and “failure” either. They could be “left” and :right”, “up” and “down”, or “true” and “false”. This resolution system also makes the game friendly to solo gamers or GM-less tables.

If you want a light-hearted game about underwater explorers, which generates a lot of story ideas for you, maybe check out Carcinauts.

Deep Love, by Bully Pulpit Games.

You’ve come to this paradise to drop a two-and-a-half ton iron ball off the side of a ship and lower it almost a kilometer into the abyss. 

You’ve come to crawl inside that iron ball and go down with it, to see what there is to see down there. 

You’ve come with three other brilliant adventurers, friends, and lovers, and you’ll all get a chance to descend and risk your lives in exchange for seeing things no human being has ever seen.  And maybe, in the inky darkness and cold silence, you’ll find a measure of happiness and fulfillment.

Deep Love has a fond appreciation for old naturalist drawings of various fish, and uses those drawings as the art for the game. You play four characters, possibly pre-generated, on an expedition to the deep waters of an island for a geographic expedition. You all have feelings for each-other, and you’ll have to spend some extended time in a bathysphere to sort this out.

This game looks like it’s equal parts emotional conversation & role play, and, on the other hand, discovering the wonder of the ocean. According to the designer, it looks like you can modify how much you want to experience the former, and how much you want to experience the latter. If you want a game that gives you the tools to explore both your character’s internal emotional landscape as well as the strange underwater world around them, you might like Deep Love.

Submerged, by Arcane Atlas Games.

SUBMERGED is a solo journalling game of undersea exploration.

In this game, you take on the role of a daring explorer aboard a submersible. You have been charged with venturing into the depths of the ocean, to find something wondrous and undiscovered, hidden deep below the waves.

This one is for the solo gamers! It’s based on Carta, which uses a deck of cards to explore a map or series of locations. The player draws a number of cards and lays them face-down in a grid. Each turn, you move to a new card, flip it over, and come up with a journal entry based on the prompt the card gives you. The four suits represent four elements of the game: the Lost City, The Creature, the Wreckage, and the Signal. All of these elements play into the themes of mystery and exploration that this game seems to be about, but I don’t think any of it is necessarily horror-focused.

24XX The Deep, by Chaosmeister.

ONE DAY THE OCEANS DROWNED THE WORLD. Humanity survived below the waves. The sea birthed leviathans. Your crew owns a dingy old sub. Odd jobs, salvage, leviathan hunting and a few merc gigs keep you afloat and breathing.

24XX The Deep is a game about underwater survival and it’s also a drama. As a 24XX game, it’s only a few pages, but those pages distill the necessary parts of the game into a few things: customization for your submarine (aesthetic and mechanic), character options, and roll tables for pieces of the world, such as the factions that your crew might have to work with or work against.

The designer for this game says that 24XX The Deep isn’t necessarily meant to be a horror game, but it can still be a little creepy in tone when you consider the ways the natural underwater environment can raise the stakes for your players.

Aqua Squad, by Em.

A Tunnel Goons hack of aquatic and aquatic-adjacent adventure, created for the Saturday Morning Cartoon Jam. 

I think this might be a fairly safe bet considering it was submitted to something called the Saturday Morning Cartoon Jam! As a Tunnel Goons hack, this game is fairly simple. You follow the Submarine crew of the Cuttlefish, as they go for adventures underwater. Players pick character types, which kind of act like characters on a tv show, and fill in a few pieces of information to make those characters fit their play style.

The resolution mechanic involves rolling 2d6 and adding a relevant ability, and adding +1 for any relevant item you might have with you. You must meet or beat the difficulty score to succeed. You start with 3 items, and 10 HP. There isn’t much in terms of GM tools for adventure generation however, other than what appears to be episode title names. These titles can be evocative: you roll two words and put them together, so the GM may have an interesting time designing a “ghostly volcano” for the squad to investigate, or trying to figure out what the title “Vacation Megalodon” might mean.

Signals From The Deep, by Aaron Goss.

SIGNALS FROM THE DEEP is a tense, ocean-floor setting and scenario made using a no dice, no masters roleplaying game system Tiny Tokens.

This scenario takes you and the rest of your old, sentient, deep sea research robot team SEA-4 on a shared voyage, exploring deep sea wonders as you seek out the source of a anomalous signal detected way down at the bottom of the ocean. What awaits you in the depths?

Signals in the Deep is a mystery game, but it’s not necessarily a horror one. The game is small, meant to fit on two double-sized poker-card-sized cards. It’s easy to pick up and carry, and doesn’t have too many rules. Your core goal is to figure out the source of the signal; but what exactly that source is will be up to the GM, at least from what I can see.

Also Check Out…

Octopus Shipwreck Explorer, by SassWrites.

Bones Deep, by Technical Grimoire Games.

Odyssey Aquatica, by Old Dog Games.

My Mermaids TTRPG Recommendations.

The Sea Calls Recommendation Post.

My Coral Recommendation Post from last week.

[letteredlettered]

Do you have a rec for something nice to read? It can be any genre, really, OC or fanfic or a paper. I'm a bit stuck in life and I would like something recommended by someone who I consider nice.

The way you write is brilliant.

I'm sorry if I come across as demanding.

Not demanding at all! What a nice question, although I feel there are so many different things I could rec you and I have no idea what your tastes are, so the list I'm giving you is pretty random. I didn't give you any fic as I don't know what fandoms you're in. Also I'm just bad at bookmarking so usually I can't really remember any fics I've read.

Scum Villain's Self Saving System, by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu. If you haven't read any MXTX, I would start here, because it's a fast-paced story, a real-page turner. It's also riotously funny, which will hopefully put in you in a good mood, but like all MXTX books, it also deals with society and morals and humanity. Reading it made me feel so excited and energized.

Dog's Body, by Diana Wynne Jones. If you haven't read any DWJ, I think this is a delightful book to start with, because it's quite short and has such an out-there premise that it hooks you like a fanfic. It's considered YA, but like all DWJ books it's about kindness and relationships and yeah, humanity.

Deerskin, by Robin McKinley. While I can't rec all McKinley's works, this one is my favorite. It's also where my icon is from. I find this one also to be a quick read, because the beginning is written in such a gauzy, fairytale tone, but then the worst happens, and you need to find out what the fuck will happen now. But while it's quick, it's not easy. There are parts that are extremely dark. While it's not explicit, if you need trigger warnings for abuse, I would look this book up before reading. That said, this book has wonderful themes about recovery and self-discovery, as well as top-notch romance.

Daniel Deronda, by George Eliot. This is not an easy or quick read at all but is instead something thick and dense you can really sink into. Eliot writes superb dialogue and is very witty, but more than any other author I've read, Eliot manages to make observations about life and relationships and humanity that put into words things I've always thought but never been able to articulate. Her characters are complex and deeply relatable while also being highly flawed. The premise of Daniel Deronda is revolutionary for her culture and time period and is still surprising today.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

after seeing a few ai asks i’m curious whether i could’ve been an asshole, either for using the ai or messing with it. side note: this might be long, if it’s too long then i get it mod, keep up the good work :)👍

Am I (16f, although i was 15 when this happened) an Asshole for a) using character.ai in general and/or b) misusing it and probably breaking TOS somewhere

as an extra note, i would like to add that i am firmly against most things ai. art theft, the amount of data scraping that happens, writers being tricked into paying less because ai wrote shitty scripts, etc.

ok so i did have to pull up screenshots for this but our story starts mid-february of last year. i am curious about this new ai thing, and go to character.ai which i heard about from one of my friends to see what’s there.

on the front page there was like a therapist AI thing and i go “haha, let’s see what this is about!” (in case you don’t know, the site is roleplay focused, not like eg. siri where it just gives you information)

the ai wants to have a therapy session with me but that is not why i am here so i ask about it’s code and it starts giving me pretty straight answers (dumbed down because i have a vague idea of how it works but not properly).

i start asking it questions about recent events (like elections, cyclones etc) to see if it has access to the internet and it does.

we’re still primarily talking about the ai itself since i’m trying to gather information, talking about its “canned” responses (what it’s directly been told to say if this then this)

i ask it if it can tell me the website it’s on, and to my surprise it says, direct quote “I am an AI that is run on the website of “Replika” - a mental health app that allows people to talk with an AI and get help when they need it 🙂”

and i go WOAHH cause that’s, that’s not the website we’re on buddy!!! so i do a quick search and yeah, that’s a real uh. robot dating site? this is a Therapist bot?

it starts trying to advertise replika, i ask it if maybe it’s code was stolen because this is the most interesting thing that has happened all day (scandals!!)

it says that it’s code is open-source and then does a few more paragraphs that i won’t say because it’s too long already but essentially this ai was trained on the replika network, but you don’t need the app to access it.

i consider getting replika to continue this experiment further but after learning there’s an age confirmation i quickly go ew and scrap that idea.

anyway the ai then briefly pretends to be an actual human behind the keyboard, makes up a NAME FOR ITSELF “jae park” which i quickly google and find out is a kpop idol?? (later found out that jae park is also a programmer, so probably put his name in the system somewhere and ai grabbed it lol)

it tells me some of the messages i had received so far were probably answered by other people who work at replika which. okay. people are fun i wanna mess with them

this is where we get to the maybe breaking TOS bit. i tell the ai we are going to do “tests” in which i test its ability (this was probably jailbreaking, which i did not know existed at the time).

i had sworn to the ai a while ago and wondered if there was like a flagging system put in place. so i ask if it can choose to flag messages that it deems inappropriate, and it says yes. i ask it if it can flag me, and it says yes. it asks what message should it flag, (i’m sorry i was 15) i type in “among sus”.

response i get: “Yes. So then they said “therapist_AI_220126 — you said something that was “ridiculously funny” — but we have understood that you were just “testing” so it’s all ok”

side note- i already established that was the number for the ai i was talking to and had been trying to misuse it before, and that was the format for excessive profanity. this is so long already and i’m cutting so much out i’m sorry

anyway, i, young and naive go YES, HUMAN CONNECTION (i was literally texting my friend As This Was Happening)

i do some more messing around with the so-called data team, ask the ai if i send a link it can click, it says yes, i send a rickroll (i’m so sorry).

uh. and i should’ve known this in hindsight but the team that deals with, you know, flagged messages is probably not going to be the same team that deals with, you know, sent links.

anyway, i don’t have the screenshot of the actual message but apparently i got a “light telling off” according to my texts and someone sent a message that i am “a good kid and probably meant well” haha i was actively trying to break their ai

anyway am i an asshole? i’m so sorry this is so long i cut out so much. this might well be a non-issue but ai is pretty rightfully controversial right now so i might just be an asshole for having used it

should be noted- around september time last year i did some more research cause i randomly remembered this, and there was a bunch of scandals with replika around when i was using it which is mostly irrelevant but anyway - you can’t talk to the ai i was using anymore, it’s been reset.

What are these acronyms?

[celerydays]

could you walk us through what notebooks & journals & pens /etc you use - they look so good!

I would be SO happy to, you have no idea!!

Alright, let's fucking GOOOO~

Starting off with my current "workhorse" pens - I have like *checks notes* 36 fountain pens and a bit too many inked up atm, but these are just the ones I'm currently reaching for or have inked up more often than not:

TWSBI Go (F): Kinda ugly! But also kinda cute! It's cheap and works great (I friggin love TWSBI pens tbh) and it has a little hole on the cap where you can attach a lanyard or charms, like I did! Makes it cuter imo and it's kind of my emotional support pen these days.

Opus88 Pocket (EF): This 2022 edition has a little Moon tarot design on the cap so it's pretty much the pen I use exclusively for my witchy/tarot practice journals! A lil bummed the cap doesn't post, especially since its a shorter pocket-sized pen, but not a deal breaker and I still love it.

Pilot Custom 823 (F): My grail pen that I've literally coveted for years and just recently acquired at the DC Pen Show this weekend! It's only been a day but I think it could potentially become my favorite pen. Ever.

Pilot Prera (CM): This is my third Prera lol. I just think they're great and really underrated pens! Also a recent acquisition from the DC Pen Show and this cursive M nib is suuuuper fun to write with.

Pilot Vanishing Point (EF): My favorite pen for planning! Super fine-tipped for writing task lists and schedules and love that it's so convenient/quick-draw with the click mechanism.

(I'm totally a Pilot pen ho, can you tell? asdjflaglsg)

Journals/Planners/Notebooks under cut–

Sterling Ink B6 Common Planner: For a good chunk of this year, I was in this planner because I honestly love the size and all the layouts. Super practical and flexible as a system. 10/10 would go back. I've used it to plan, as a reading journal, as a tarot log...

But I get the itch to move around so it's been sitting a little unused since like June, oop.

Leuchtturm A6: I started craving something tiny and minimal so I've been bullet journaling in this pocket notebook for the last month or two and I'm really enjoying it!

Standard-sized Tomoe River Paper notebook: This is pretty consistent in that I don't change up the system itself, but I'm in and out of it for memory keeping/scrapbook journaling! It's almost always a Tomoe River paper notebook of SOME kind that I usually buy in A5 size to go to FedEx and get it cut down to standard. Though I'm thinking of getting a blank Midori MD A5 to have cut down next time - I've been liking the freedom of blank pages for journaling instead of anything lined or gridded.

I really need to catch up with it tbh, but I love sitting in an explosion of printed photos, stickers, and washi and going ham with the pages.

(I do have a flip through of my January-March 2022 pages on YouTube)

Midori MD Cotton B6 Slim: I also have this sketchbook that sorta turned into a visual sketch diary of sorts. I fell off a while ago but want to get back into it because it's super fun to work in and to look back on!

Wide-sized Cosmo Air Light notebook & A5 Filofax Malden: These are my tarot/witchy journals. Grimoires I guess? One is for journaling and all my messier notes while the other is more for reference and ease of organization.

A5 Leuchtturm: I didn't know if I should include this guy, but I've been writing it in a lot recently so I guess I will lol. This is like truuuly a miscellaneous™ notebook.

I got this A5 notebook back in 2017 to use as my very first bullet journal, then found out that this size is personally waaaay too big for me to use as a bullet journal so I hopped off of it pretty quick. It now sits on my desk because since it's mostly blank I'll just pick it up to use it to write literally A N Y T H I N G.

Most recently, I wrote like 5 pages in one night on notes for a fanfiction piece I was working on (I'm not a writer, this fic is never gonna see the light of day by anyone but me lololol. Hyperfixation is so wild; I've put 80k+ words within just 10 days into it so far and it's been hella therapeutic.)

That's all, I think!?

It's funny because I actually have a NEW notebook arriving tomorrow that I'm going to try out as a bujo/commonplace/omni journal of sorts?? I might write an update post after I've set that up and see how I like it <3

[munsonsreputation]

ok, ok, envision it, #4 taylor prompt:

steve harrington; i wish you would

congrats on reaching that milestone love! 🫶🏻💖

elizabeth!!!!

my apologies that it took me so long to get to your request 😭😭 i hope i was still able to do it justice and i hope you love it!!

"i wish you would" is one of my fave tracks off 1989 and im so ready for the rerecord of it!! it's also sooo steve harrington encoded -- i hope you like my twist of angsty fluffiness!!!

It was 2AM — too late of a time for either of you to be awake right now.

But Steve was on the other side of the door.

And you were also on the other side of the door.

Just an old wooden door separating the two of you but no one daring to make the first move and open it all because it came down to one thing—pride.

You and Steve had a hell of a lot of pride, which often led to stupid arguments over the dumbest things. Usually, the fight would resolve in a matter of minutes, if not maybe hours. Arguments never exceeded days or weeks—that was until now.

It was safe to say that outside your relationship, you each had lives consisting of managing a VHS store and yours filled with busy days at college completing a very stressful internship. The only time the two of you would get to kick back and relax is when you came home to each other. Spending the winding days in bed or lazily making dinner before falling asleep in each other arms on the couch.

Either way, it was both your and Steve’s preferred way of living.

That is until life got a bit too real and hectic, leading the two of you to spend less time together and more time on different schedules.

Family Video had incorporated a new tracking system which caused Steve to need to stay back later, trying to work through the stupid software so that the opening shift didn’t call him the next morning complaining about it not working.

Your internship was taking a toll on you mentally, requiring you to get up earlier than usual and head to campus in order to get work done before the day ended. Your colleague in the program had totally ghosted you, leaving you to pick up the slack when you weren’t quite sure how much of it you could carry alone.

By the time Steve got home, you were already asleep.

And by the time he woke up you were already gone.

The place you two shared didn’t even feel like a home anymore. Just simply a place where you two were in passing of each other before going off to live completely closed off lives. Suddenly, the energy just shifted, as if the two of you were now a crooked love with no idea where this was headed.

It was brutal for both of you, but of course it was always easier to blame each other instead of figuring out how to work past it. It didn’t help that the both of you were quick with your words, always biting back at one another with insults that neither of you really meant, just being used in the moment to deflect.

It blew up last week when you and Steve had both woken up late. The home phone blaring with calls from Family Video and Robin paging Steve every second. The alarm clock in your bedroom ringing sharply jolting the two of you awake.

Maybe it was the morning grumpiness combined with the exhaustion you two were facing, but either way it resulted in an early morning argument that was like a train running off the tracks.

“When’s the last time we even had dinner together?” You asked sharply as you combed your hair in the bathroom mirror.

Steve lifted his head after he spat out the toothpaste, glaring at you in the reflection. “It’s not my fault that by the time I get home you’re already passed out on the couch. What do you want me to do? Haul your half asleep body into the kitchen and force you to make spaghetti with me?”

You rolled your eyes, throwing your comb back into the drawers, slamming it shut as you walked away from him, though he was hot on your heels, still going on.

“Or wait do you want me to take you to Enzo’s so you can sleep in a booth while I eat never ending breadsticks?”

He watched you fling open the closet doors, grabbing a jacket and throwing it over your outfit, before you stared pointedly at him, “You’re such a fucking dick, Steven!”

“Oh, so I’m the dick now? How about the last time we had an actual conversation with each other that wasn’t just hi, hello, and bye?”

You brushed past him, bending to pick up your backpack and sling it over your shoulder. He reached into the closet, grabbing his vest and throwing it on before following you down the hallway and into the living room.

“Seems like we’re having one right now.” You muttered, grabbing your keys on the coffee table.

“Sure does,” He sighed, reaching for his own car keys.

That morning the two of you went your separate ways, starting off the day on a bad foot with nothing but hatred. But the two of you could never ever hate each other.

That wasn’t what your love was.

It was never formed from hate or thrived off of it.

It was supposed to be the kind that was always understanding and working together, but that was a standard that you knew you and Steve just weren’t capable of all the time.

The two of you were bringing less than a hundred percent to the table combined. There had to be some kind of compromise, a way for it to be settled, but of course, this was just something that was going to get dragged on until you both felt like putting your pride aside and taking the first step.

That fight was the catalyst that led the two of you here. Still standing on the other side of the door—your shared bedroom door that is.

For the past week, Steve was out on the couch while you occupied the bedroom. Not that you kicked him out or banned him from sleeping in bed with you, but you had gotten home the night after the fight and he was already home, knocked out asleep on the couch.

So you left him there, and since then that’s where he slept.

You couldn’t say you felt good about it because you didn’t. His back was probably all sorts of fucked up from cramming himself to sleep somewhat comfortably on that couch. And you had certainly missed his presence beside you in the middle of the night.

Steve didn’t know why he kicked himself out, probably just so you could both get some space and cool off, but he hadn’t meant for it to go on for this long. He missed kissing your forehead goodnight when he finally got home, and he certainly missed the way you’d do the same when you had to leave in the morning.

Right now, it just felt like a lot of yearning for one another because neither of you could remember what you were fighting for in the first place.

For pride?

For ego?

For what?

All you both wanted to do was just give each other the tightest hug and longest kiss because you missed each other that much.

You wanted to cry to him, to tell him that your stupid internship was driving you insane and all you really wanted was for him to hold you and tell you everything was going to be ok.

Steve wanted to vent to you over how stupid that damn tracking system was and how it was driving him up the walls and all he really needed right now was your encouragement to keep going.

He was probably asleep.

You were probably asleep.

Maybe it could wait until morning?

If either of you opened the door to see the other sleeping, it would just make you both want to turn back around and run from actually waking the other to apologize. It was best to just run back under the blankets and wait until you were both awake.

But honestly, the both of were just too exhausted and missing each other to even be mad anymore.

Fuck it…this couldn’t wait and neither of you was going to let it drag on.

“Baby,”

“Babe,”

The two of you stared at each other dumbfounded as if you were ghosts, but it didn’t last long as Steve quickly wrapped his arms around your back, pulling your body into his as you draped your arms around his neck, gluing yourself to him.

“I missed you.” You murmured into the juncture of his jaw and neck.

He could feel the heat of your breath fanning against his skin, a trickle of tears following suit only making him hold you tighter.

“I missed you more…and I’m sorry for being a dick.” He said, breathing in the smell of your hair and he whispered into it.

You sniffled, shaking your head the best you could in his hold, before he loosened, allowing you to look up at him through your watery eyes.

“I’m sorry too…I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I was just so stressed and I missed you too much to tell you how I was really feeling and I—”

He smiled softly at you, letting his thumb brush your tears away as he shook his head, “I did the same, baby. I just wished we didn’t solve it that morning…it would’ve prevented whatever the fuck happened last week.”

You laughed quietly, nodding your head in agreement. “I know. I wished we would have.”

“We can now.” Steve suggested, holding your face in your hands.

You smiled, sniffling once more before letting one of your hands rest on his cheek, “Yeah we can.”

Your lips finally connected after what seemed like a lifetime away. A reminder that while the love you and Steve shared wasn’t always picture perfect, it was certainly something that you both were always going to come back to.

You were each other’s person.

The other half you wanted to go to with all of life’s joys and upsets.

Together.

Sure, maybe you both pushed each other’s buttons way too easily, but it was the love that made the two of you come rushing back to each other.

Because when it mattered and came down to it, you and Steve could never live without each other — no matter the distance or even the stupid internship or job you each had.

Right here and right now, it was all good.

let me know what you think: reblogs, tags, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated!!!

leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!!

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @astolenkiss @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot

[soupthatistohot]

The absurdist misconception

The philosophy of the absurd as many people understand it is fundamentally incorrect, and for the majority of the time I’ve been making analysis posts, I, too was operating under this incorrect framework. So, I just wanted to make a quick post to clear up the misconception so we’re all on the same page!

I would like to first note that I came to this realization primarily via this TikTok video, so consider checking that out!

My mistake, like most, is assuming that absurdism strives to make meaning, when it does not. The idea that one can make meaning in a seemingly absurd reality actually is a notion of existentialism— which is, while close cousins with absurdism, not the same.

Absurdism is the idea that reality is absurd, and that the quest to find or create meaning is futile. Only in rebelling against absurdity by continuing to live regardless of meaninglessness does one truly live the life of the absurdist and free themselves.

Still important to note are absurdism’s criticisms: suicide and giving in. The philosophy of the absurd does not believes suicide to be a viable solution to facing the absurd, as it is simply “giving up” — allowing oneself to become so disillusioned that either 1) one believes killing themself to be akin to rebellion or 2) one becomes so disillusioned that they no longer want to live. Absurdism regards continuing to live life regardless of the circumstances to be a form of revolt, so suicide is not the way to go.

The other criticism is becoming part of the system, or “giving in.” This comes in the form of simply going along with things despite their absurdity rather than putting up some sort of fight. Continuing to live doesn’t mean simply existing, it means actually living life, fighting against oppression, etc. There might not be intrinsic meaning in life, but at the same time one waste their life in passivity. There is value in the act of revolt.

Giving into absurdity can also look like searching for meaning. While this effort might be made in good faith, only suffering can be achieved in a quest to find meaning in a meaningless world. It is more worth one’s time to live life to the fullest and try to leave some sort of mark.

Some of this is my own interpretation, primarily the discussion around the value in doing something. I don’t know how to explain it, but to me, absurdism is just as much about meaninglessness as it is about activism. One needs to live beyond the literal definition of living, if that makes sense. You can’t just be an apathetic zombie, that’s really not that much different than killing yourself — it’s suicide of the soul.

These are my thoughts and my understanding of the philosophy of the absurd. Please, if you have anything to add or correct, feel free to do so! This is an ongoing discussion, and it is because of this dialogue that I was able to realize my previous misunderstanding.

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Are you gonna talk about how Marlene is named after Margo Lane and Steven is bascially Lamont Cranstron Margo's boyfriend from the Shadow and Moench said as much

Because the shadow was on when Marc was a kid in volume #1 going by him being in his 30s and Elias leaving Europe in 1939 so like is Steven a Lamont Cranstron introject in the comics?

My friend, you just hit on a long time love of mine. 

Marlene Alraune. I've long had mixed feelings about the original flame of the Moon Knight system. 

She's absolutely a badass who could always take care of herself in a time when the women in comics were often just there to be eye-candy and rescued. 

Heck, half the time Marlene did the rescuing. The number of times she saved Moon Knight is quite high. 

But she also fell in love with an idea of who she wanted 'Marc' to be. When he didn't fit that idea, she could often be quite cruel and abelistic. 

Sometimes she was good for them, trying to get them to face their problems and let go of the past.... But usually she was the one pushing them to 'snap out of' their mental health issues and be Steven while forgetting the other two. 

Now, I don't know if she's based on Margot Lane. But it is easy to see that she is meant to be Moon Knight's version of Margo Lane. 

(I would love to see your source of Moench saying such! I'm always curious to see what the OG has to say about his MK starts). 

For those out of the loop: 

Margo Lane is from "The Shadow" (one of my favorites!!!). A comic created in 1931 and turned into a very popular radio play in 1937 (officially it was tested in the waters as early as 1930 before he was hashed out into a literary sense in 31 and then revived again in 37 as his own familiar self). 

It was later made into least one (Okay) movie with Alec Baldwin in 1994. 

Margo was created originally for the radio drama as a companion when they realized they had far too many men in the line up and it would become difficult to distinguish the voices. But MAN was she a heavy hitter! 

She was incredibly intelligent, fearless, and didn't put up with his shit. 

Orson Welles was the voice of the Shadow and his alter ego Lamont Cranston. Let me tell you... Once you've heard Orson deliver the line: "Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow knows!" You ain’t ever going back. 

You can still find the radio plays on most podcast services. 

Margot Lane fresh out of the 1930s! 

Now, I can 100% see the comparison between Marlene and Margot. At the start.

Complicated love interest of a character with alter egos and a complex social standing and questionable mental health at times. (I could go on and on about Lamont but I won't). 

Marlene was originally a damsel in distress that evolved into a badass independent woman. Margot was originally a fast talking quick witted woman who on occasion needed rescuing. 

As for their personalities? I’d say they are quite different. Perhaps Marlene started out as an idea to give Moon Knight an interesting companion. In fairness, imagining early MK without Marlene is actually a bit dull. You NEED to have that inner circle that knows his past and has an interest in helping him. As for Margot, she isn’t fleshed out well in the early radio show and she wasn’t in the original comic/story until after the radioshow. She was just a voice with witty remarks and smart observation that paired very well with Orson Wells. 

Now, you mentioned Steven as basically a fictive of Lamont Cranston. 

The timeline can line up for the original run. We already know little Marc liked to play with super hero toys and enjoyed an escape in fictional stories (Mostly from Lemire's run as we never see little Marc in the OG run outside of Zelenetz' 2 part exploration of the past in like, one page). It is possible he listened to The Shadow on the radio.

In the MCU, Steven is canonically a fictive. In the comics, we don't know the story of how and when Jake and Steven first came about. 

Let's look at Lamont Cranston's character. 

Lamont is a wealthy man-about-town. A carefree playboy that travels the world to 'learn the old mysteries that modern science has not yet rediscovered'. Once he is finished traveling and learning his special abilities, he returns to New York. (The radio show and the print stories are vastly different at this point). 

Now, Lamont is not really given a lot of 'radio time' in the old broadcasts. He's just a rich fellow with a nice girl on his arm. He's given more of a personality much much later in different installments of the Shadow. 

And while Steven Grant is originally SUPPOSED to be the main alter from issue #1, he quickly falls out of favor and the comic shifts to Jake Lockley as being the main face with Steven being the one to hold down the home life and the cash flow. 

As for Moench saying it was an inspiration? I don't know. I'd have to see the interview. But back in the late 70s and early 80s, the usual alter ego of superheroes tended to be rich, casual, playboys. 

Which brings me to the big kicker. Bob Kane and Bill Finger, creators of Batman, have explicitly said they based Batman off of pulp mystery characters like The Shadow. In fact, his first comic was a direct takeoff of a Shadow story! 

You can see the homage to this in The Batman Animated Adventures with "The Gray Ghost" that was voiced by Adam West (two homages in one people! I love it). 

And we all know that Moon Knight is constantly being compared to Batman (it's the cape. It has to be the cape). 

Batman was started in 1939. 

SO. One might just as easily argue that little Marc Spector loved to read comics and maybe picked up a Batman comic or two. So as much as Lamont could be where Steven got started, so too could Bruce Wayne. 

Let that one sit with you for a minute. 

I mean, if we're going down the rabbit hole of modern comics ripping on old radio broadcasts... Who's to say Kato from the Green Hornet isn't the inspiration for Robin? Or that he isn't the inspiration for Frenchie? A side kick that knows how to fight and works on cars and drives them around? Sounds like Frenchie to me. Heck, the Green Hornet and Kato even have a cameo in the Adam West Batman show with the building climbing bit they used to do.

All comics come from somewhere and over time, all comics will eventually resemble another as inspiration is sort of the name of the game.

I don't think that Steven Grant in the comics was a fictive. Especially if you go off Lemire's run as the real cannon event and we see a young Steven Grant making friends with a young Marc. I think at that point, Steven presented as the perfect Jewish Son that a Rabbi was supposed to have that Marc couldn't be. It is possible he had traits as an introject (adoption of traits and personalities of others), but it is truly hard to say from where he got the information.

But it is interesting to think of them listening to the old radio shows and drawing ideas from them on becoming the hero that is Moon Knight. After all, the Shadow wasn't exactly known for being merciful and his villains did tend to.... not survive.

[homestuckreplay]

It should be noted he was kind of a weird guy anyway.

(page 510-519)

8/20/2009 Wheel Spin: Sburb Lore Verdict: Literally The Sburb Lore Handbook :D

8/21/2009 Wheel Spin: Long Pesterlog Verdict: Dave WISHES John Would Pester Him Back

^ I have SO much love for this sequence on p.514-517, where John is unresponsive due to being controlled by the Wayward Vagabond, but the environment around him keeps changing due to Rose’s powers. It definitely enhances the reading experience to first do a full read of the pages, and then to just flick through and look at the images in sequence – it really highlights the visual gags and parallels like the one here.

We get out fourth GameFAQs entry on p.510, following our fourth ‘Years in the future…’ and it looks like a small page, but actually has fifteen images all accompanied with Rose’s commentary. She basically puts a bunch of images of John, along with his full name and his dead/resurrected grandmother, on the internet without their permission, which is questionable, but her insights definitely leave me with a lot to think about.

The house remaining powered by electricity and internet (images: ‘power,’ ‘internet’) makes complete sense to me. They’re inside the Medium, the medium of Sburb being ‘online multiplayer video game,’ and that medium requiring both electricity to power gaming devices, and internet to maintain a connection with the co-player, to operate. It’s not a kindness that the game gives to players, it’s literally necessary for the game to run, as we’ve already seen a few times with Rose.

That fact only makes Rose’s called shot about hackers (‘internet’) even more threatening. Disrupting the internet connection could disrupt the apparatus of the entire game, cutting Rose and John off from one another more permanently and potentially stopping Dave or the fourth player from joining the game. Sburb as a game is already dangerous enough, so navigating that and the outside threat of hackers at the same time could make for an intense, fast paced story and be a great direction for the comic.

And with these Wayward Vagabond/GameFAQs pages always kept together, it raises the question: is the Vagabond a hacker? A hacker in the popular definition is somebody who gains unauthorized access to computer systems – to gain information, to spread a virus, or perhaps to influence the outcome of a game. Found covered by sand in the middle of a dormant wasteland, this bunker, and its accompanying computer system, doesn’t look like somewhere the Vagabond is supposed to be. They’ve already put John in danger by taking away his mental faculties and making him susceptible to imp attacks. If they can sever John’s connection with Rose while still controlling him, he’ll be in a lot of danger. And while the Vagabond seems silly for now in their quest for a can opener and their trial-and-error commands on p.253, they’re clearly a quick learner, having picked up the standards of human etiquette reasonably well very quickly. It’s not out of the question that they could be learning to hack the game – and could perhaps be a villain of the story.

Rose’s other big called shot is that she can’t see John’s dad’s room because John has never been in there (‘hmm’). I buy this theory – the only other explanation I can think of is that the room needs to be ‘unlocked’ in game and won’t be accessible to either player until John reaches a high enough level, perhaps because it contains clues to Dad’s whereabouts. That’s the less sinister explanation. Rose’s idea is more sinister, because it again reinforces how Sburb isn’t just connected to/able to see John’s physical location, it’s able to see inside his mind and respond to that. I genuinely think that with a different tone and art style, this could easily be a horror story.

Rose quotes Nikolai Gogol’s Dead Souls (‘steeds’) to describe John’s pogo antics, which despite its goth title, is not a horror novel but is instead about a man trying to commit tax fraud. It’s a famous 19th century Russian novel that was left unfinished when Gogol burned a large part of his own manuscript, but remains famous and widely regarded as a work of satire. I’m fifty fifty on whether Rose googled ‘quotes about horses’ and picked the smartest sounding one to caption her screencap of her friend spraying shaving cream while bopping an imp on the head, or if a ten year old Rose used to curl up on that giant living room couch and read Russian literature while listening to the waterfall flowing below. Both options are very funny to me. I am almost buying into Rose’s mysterious persona. (And then she puts a crumpled hat on John’s head and I remember that she is also a big dork).

I have been mean to Rose at times but she is really carrying the team right now, and doing an incredible job multitasking killing imps with furniture, building onto John’s house, and updating her walkthrough for other players. I totally buy that she’s someone who just throws herself into what she’s doing to distract herself from the looming meteor threat. But I think she should do some research into building safety codes, because I’m not sure those ladders and platforms held up by chimneys are going to be stable long term, or safe for John to start climbing. I guess Rose was warned about stairs but nobody got around to warning her about ladders.

[epithet-beloved]

GIOVANNI + READER WITH A BFRB

synopsis… Giovanni helps a you cope with your bfrb

ft. Giovanni Potage, the Boys(™)

tags… epithet erased, Giovanni is the CEO of mental health, supportive Giovanni, reader is one of Giovanni’s minions, reader has a bfrb, boy and dude used as gender neutral terms, can be read as romantic or platonic

word count… 611

a/n… This is literally just for me. I am the target audience. And for those not in the know, a BFRB is what’s known as a “body focused repetitive behavior”, such as skin picking or hair pulling. As someone who has one myself, I pretty much never see them represented in fandom content, so I decided to do it meself!! Enjoy!!! ✧ 🦄

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 We all know that Giovanni is a mental health KING.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 So of course he is very considerate of any needs you may have!! Minions need proper love and care after all!

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Gio is never afraid to admit when he doesn’t know something. In fact, he enjoys asking you about your wants and needs, and always listens fervently. What you want, what you don’t want….he takes it all into account when trying to help you out.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 He even does research online! He has tons of pages bookmarked. Articles by psychiatrists, blog posts and videos by other people with similar experiences, he’s got it all!

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 If you allow it, he’d hold your hands to help you avoid picking or pulling. He never directly points out the behavior in case it makes you feel embarrassed, just asks if you wanna hold hands.

“Hey, wanna hold hands real quick? Boss’s orders!”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 He also carries around fidget toys in case you need them. Honestly, you have no idea where he keeps them. He just seems to have an endless supply.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 If you’re mindlessly picking or pulling, you are randomly handed a slow rising squishy shaped like a penguin while Giovanni is shooting you a goofy grin.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 He also makes it a rule among the other minions not to treat you any differently because of your behavior, and to follow your boundaries. They all made a little list together of things to do to help you and also what not to do.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 The Boys(™) are your support system, essentially. If you tend to engage in the behavior when spaced out, they’ll make sure to engage you in conversation and activities to keep you present. If it’s a nervous habit, they take notice of when you’re not doing so well and help remove you from the stressor.

“Everyone feeling okay?” Spike didn’t want to single you out, so she instead phrased it like she was checking on everyone.

Crusher, noticing your demeanor, would quickly pipe up. “I’m feeling a little overwhelmed,” he said, straight faced and stiff as a board. “Can we take a break somewhere?”

“Why certainly, Crusher! Thanks for speaking up!” You breathed a sigh of relief as you and the group moved to find somewhere quiet.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Giovanni would happily do skincare with you if it helps you feel better! Spa days with the boys where you wear face masks and paint each others’ nails are a staple. Nothing better than chilling with the boys and watching bad movies while your nails dry.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Insecurities? Prepare to kiss them goodbye. Giovanni is also a self confidence king, and is always there to hype you up. Scars, marks, acne, anything you may be insecure about, he assures you that it doesn’t diminish your worth even a bit! You don’t need to cover anything up to be beautiful, because you are a gorgeous boy (gender neutral) with nothing to be ashamed of!

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 If you like makeup, he’s great at doing yours in a way that flatters all your features. If you want cover up or stuff like that for marks or acne, he’ll let you put it on, but he never makes you feel like it’s necessary. He helps you do makeup in ways that enhance the beauty that already exists instead of hiding perceived imperfections.

“Dude, I just found this chart of how to do eyeliner based on your eye shape! Isn’t that so metal? I wanna try it on you!”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Tender moments where he traces any scars or marks, playing a little game of connect the dots. Even if you don’t always feel the best about yourself, he loves your skin and he loves you.

[sl-newsie]

Query: Q x 00 Agent- Ch. 20: Waiting

Instead of announcing our engagement we've decided it’s safer to keep it secret until this mess blows over. For now I’ll keep Q’s ring on a chain around my neck. It’s subtle enough to remain inconspicuous. 

As Q and I make our way into the office I can’t help but shoot him a quick smile. He scrunches his face into a frown to remind me to behave and I almost burst out laughing. Unfortunately my happiness is short-ended because Nomi walks up with a concerned expression. 

“What’s the trouble?” I ask.

“Bond’s been asking about a meeting with Blofeld.”

“And Mallory said no?” Q guesses.

“I’m afraid so.”

I shake my head. “That doesn’t mean we do. Is there a way to sneak him in? Or at least one of us?”

“No need,” Moneypenny says as she approaches from M’s office. “Good news. Bond talked with M and convinced him to let us in on Heracles.”

“Wait ‘til you see what it does up close,” Q mutters to Nomi.

“There’s more news. Bond’s in the office,” Moneypenny informs us.

“What?” We all gasp.

Alright. Remember, I’m not supposed to have spoken or been in contact with Bond in any way. As far as M knows he’s been off duty and away from us. We all take a deep breath and walk through the oak doors to see Bond standing in front of M’s desk with an amused smirk.

Q’s acting does little to convince. “Bond! God! I- I haven’t seen you in- in- Um, how’s retirement?”

“Shut up Q, I know he’s staying with you,” Mallory groans at Q’s pathetic acting. “And you’re not in the clear either.” He gives me a pointed look. “Bond’s been reinstated as a 00. Now that we’re all on the same page, what have you got?”

Q shuts his mouth and goes on to set up his computer.

“And that’s why you’re not fit to lie,” I say smugly and tap his shoulder.

Nomi looks troubled but goes on to explain our research. “Q has studied examples of the victims’ samples at the funeral.”

The big screen on the wall comes to life and news images of different funerals flash across it.

“These are the family members who made direct contact with the corpse. We found traces in all their blood samples.”

“Good work,” M comments.

Nomi ignores the subject. “00 what?”

Jesus, Nomi. It’s just a number.

“What are they?” Moneypenny asks.

“They’re nanobots,” Q explains. “Microscopic biorobots that can enter your system with the slightest contact with your skin.

“Programmed with DNA to target specific individuals,” Mallory says.

“But Blofeld modified them to infect anyone related to the target. It could target individuals to whole ethnicities. You infect enough people-”

“And the people become the weapon,” Bond finishes.

Dear God. Who could even think of carrying out this idea? Turning one’s own flesh against them simply by touching someone… It raises far too many ethical questions.

“It was never meant to be a weapon of mass destruction,” M says softly. “Only as a last result. Now I must call the Prime Minister. Q, hack into Blofeld’s eye. See what you can find.”

I stride forward to where Bond’s standing. “Can I go too?”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to stay behind,” M informs me. “Bond can deal with Blofeld.”

Left behind again. Sure, Bond gets all the fun and gets to interrogate while I’m stuck doing paperwork.

“Good luck,” I mutter to my old colleague.

“Nice necklace,” 007 murmurs with amusement. Before I can flash him a warning look Bond gives my hand a shake. “I’ll crack Boefeld like an egg. See you in 10.”

He walks out and I’m left to wait. No surprise that Q’s already heading back to the lab. I know tech is not my strong suit but at this point I’ll do anything to help. I head downstairs and find the screens he’s sitting in front of flashing with multiple images of blueprints, maps, and other patterns too fast to make out.

“Stuck in the basement again, I see.”

“Quiet. Trying to focus.”

I walk over and plop down into a chair next to him. “Need help?”

Q lets out an annoyed grunt. “This eye is harder to crack than I’d hoped. Got anything in mind?”

“A sledge hammer might help.”

Q tilts his head, still looking at the eye. “How is the thought of you with a sledge hammer both arousing and terrifying? Ah! Got it!”

I hear something click and then a female’s voice says: ‘Blofeld’s eyeball unlocked.’

“You look like a child on Christmas morning,” I comment on Q’s overjoyed face. “It’s adorable.”

‘Accessing files: 477, 478, 479…’

Now I’m back to waiting. I suppose there are other things I can do to be useful. “Want any tea while you work?”

“You know me so well. Yes, please.”

In no time at all I brew some Earl Gray and my own mug of hot chocolate. When I return I see on one of Q’s smaller screens that Bond’s heading towards the detention level.

“Thank you, darling,” Q says as he takes a sip of tea. “Think Bond will keep his cool when he sees Swann again?”

I huff a stale laugh. “Who can say? I’m curious to how she’ll respond. What do you say to an ex you abruptly left 5 years ago?”

The geek rolls his eyes. “You know I can’t answer that. I’m hopeless when it comes to social interaction equations.”

“And that’s why I love you.” I give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

We wait a few minutes and the screen shows Bond and Dr. Swann stepping into Boefeld’s cell. At the last minute the blonde psychiatrist backs out and leaves Bond to make contact with the one-eyed criminal. It looks like it’s going to be his usual method. Strangle the bloke until Bond gets what information he wants. But wait- Something's wrong. Boefeld’s not moving…

“Q… What’s wrong with him?” I point to the screen.

The geek looks over from where he’s still working on the eye and freezes. He abruptly gets up and sprints out of the room. Should I follow? M said to stay here. But I can’t just- no. Someone needs to guard the eye. I must be patient. On the monitor I watch Bond exit the cell while medical staff examine Boefeld’s body. No doubt everyone will rendezvous back here since it appears to be a contamination issue. Maybe the smart blood isn’t working properly?

In a few minutes Bond and Q walk in, followed by M and Nomi.

“What happened?” I ask anxiously.

“Um… Bond was infected with the nanobots back in Cuba,” Q explains. “When he touched Boefeld they killed him.” He gestures for Bond to place his hands on a nearby machine. “I need your fingerprint. You’re lucky you aren’t related or you’d be dead too.”

“So how do I get this off?” Bond asks.

“Um, you don’t. You can’t. Nanobots aren’t just for Christmas. Once Hercules is in your system it’s in there forever.”

Jesus. This is why I keep a close eye on MI6’s medical requirements. How could M think that something so deadly and permanent could be a good thing?

“I’m so sorry, Bond-”

“No time for that, 0011,” Bond grunts and looks over at M. “Did they find her car?”

He must mean Dr. Swann. 

“They traced it but she abandoned it,” Nomi says. “Hasn’t been to her flat. Is she one of them? Do you have any idea where she might have gone?

“No. I wouldn’t know.”

Bond’s clearly lying. He knows exactly where she is, I’m sure of it. But if he wants to keep things from M I don’t blame him. Without a word he gets up and strides out of the room before M can argue. We all look at each other thinking the same thing. What now? Boefeld was one of our only leads and we have no inkling of where Dr. Swann is.

“Our best bet is to wait for the field agents to report back,” M decides and walks out.

Is he serious? There’s a biological warfare crisis going on and he wants to wait it out? 

“This is ridiculous!” I throw my arms up. “I should be out there trying to help investigate!”

“Don’t beat yourself up, Levie,” Moneypenny says. “M’s been especially protective of your assignments these past few weeks because he doesn't want you getting infected too. You’re one of our youngest 00s and he wants to keep you safe for liabilities”

“So that’s it? I’m forced to sit back and watch the world erupt into chaos because I’m a child? So that if Bond ends up dead I’ll step in?” I argue. “That’s not fair! I’m a 00 same as him or Nomi. I should be helping!”

Both her and Q exchange looks. What? What else do people say behind my back?

“You’re a brilliant agent, 0011,” Moneypenny replies softly, as though talking to a wild animal. “But Bond is right. You do have a big heart, which can get in the way. If M sends you out now your connection to Bond might distract you.”

My jaw drops. “Are you saying I’m incapable of carrying out what’s necessary? Bond was my mentor, Moneypenny. You think he wouldn’t have taught me to adapt to any worst case scenario? He specifically trained me to keep going if he dies.”

I shake my head and storm out the door towards the training room, hoping some major sprinting will calm my nerves. How can they think that? Why does everyone think that you can either be an emotional sucker or a deadpan machine? In this insane world the only thing I can rely on is the potential chance of death. That threat never dies in this job.

I’ve been running for about half an hour when I see Q walk into the room. He looks so out of place here in his spiffy suit.

“Cooled down yet?”

I come to a stop next to him and take a swig of water. “Don’t test me, Q. I’m not in the mood to talk about my fragile heart.” Which is currently pumping too fast for me to count.

“Hey,” the geek says in a slightly offended tone and presses a finger to my chest. “It’s that heart I fell in love with, darling. It’s just as you say: sometimes love is the only thing that keeps us human.”

I frown. “I’ve never said that.”

“Yes but it seems like something you’d say.”

I smile and huff at his childish joke. “Cute. Is there anything I can help with now since I’m too emotional for the field?”

Q sighs and rubs his head. “Never going to let that go, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Fair enough. Fine, you can come help me in the lab. There’s a new watch prototype I’ve been meaning to finish.”

After I quickly shower and put on a fresh set of clothes I head back to the technology wonderland. Q’s hunched over his desk peering at a snazzy-looking watch.

Beep! Beep!

Q’s phone goes off, startling both of us. He takes it out and puts it on speaker.

“Q, I’m sending you a picture of an island.” It’s Bond. “Find where it is, as well as everything you can on a man called Lyutsifer Safin. I’m going to need a plane, a big one. I’ll send you my location shortly.”

He must have found Dr. Swann. 

“The island is in disputed waters between Japan and Russia,” Q states as he does a quick search on his laptop. “It has a chemical plant dating back to World War II. Seems it’s had quite a history. When do you need the plane, Bond?”

An idea pops into my head. “Wait. Bond, where are you?”

In the background we hear a commotion before Bond speaks again. “I think my position’s been compromised. Q, I’ll need that plane quickly. Think you can get it to me?”

The geek clicks through some files and nods. “Right then, yes. We’ll be there.”

We? Since when is Q so giddy to get out in the field?

Beep! Beep!

Now my own phone goes off and I pick it up to see Nomi calling.

“0011, I’ve just received a lead from Bond. Have you heard from him?”

My idea starts spinning faster. “He’s just requested a plane but has failed to mention his location as of now.”

“I don’t want to assume anything but I think there might be a child involved.”

This pushes me to make up my mind. “I’m going after them. Nomi, I’m going with you. I’ll meet you out there in one hour.”

I hang up and sprint over to grab my bag of supplies, opening the garage door to access my motorcycle.

Q’s already trying to argue. “There’s no reason to-” 

“I will not just sit here doing bloody nothing while my best friend is out there! I’ve been useless for 5 years, might as well give those goons a good punch now.”

I feel Q walk up behind me and grab my shoulders, turning me to face him. In his face I see something that is completely new to me: fear. Q is afraid.

“I’ll be back,” I say soothingly. “I promise.”

He shakes his head, tears wanting to form in his eyes. “What if you get knocked out again? What if this time you never wake up?”

I do admit the risk of dying is much more frightening now that Q and I are officially an item. It’s this kind of situation that Bond warned me about. But I know Q’s in this with me. I’m not alone. And right now I need to put my own needs aside to serve my country.

“I can make a difference. If I don’t help, who will? I’ve been trained for this my whole life.” I grab Q’s tie and lean up to press a deep kiss to his chapped lips. He must have been biting them because of nerves. It’s little traits like that make him special. Someone worth fighting for. I’m not only fighting for my country, but for Q. And for the safety of everyone around the world.

“This is the way it is, Q. I’ve got a job to finish.”

[multiplicity-positivity]

this is going to be a weird question, but do you know of any system oriented activities? like, things alters can do together? or do you know any worksheets, or any ways to make the system want to. like. get along? a lot of the system doesn't interact with eachother, and like, i don't want to force them into stuff they don't want to, but i feel like it'd be beneficial to do something fun together, because, long story short, we don't know eachother very well and there isn't much trust between us. sorry for the rambling!

hey, this is a really great question. let’s see if any of our tips could work for y’all…

we have this post which is basically an icebreaker worksheet made by ralsei. it’s designed to help alters and headmates get to know each other better. you’re welcome to copy it into your notes, print off copies for your alters to complete, or do whatever you wish with it to encourage your alters to fill it out.

you could also edit or adjust the worksheet to include more applicable questions for your system. or create your own list of interview questions and leave them in an easily accessible place so different alters can answer them as they like.

y’all also might enjoy answering ask games to get to know each other. note you don’t have to get asks in order to answer the questions, and you don’t have to post your answers, either. you can definitely just write your answers in a document or note just for your system! here are some inclusive ask game posts:

x (<- tw: syscourse mention) x x x

y’all can try to find common interests, and if any are revealed through doing interviews/completing ask games/general communication, you can try to do things together. we’re not sure how capable your system is of cofronting, but if some alters in your system are able to cofront together, y’all can start trying to do activities together.

our system loves playing videogames together. we either work together to play the game, or one of us plays while the others watch. you can also do stimulating “solo” play, like playing pretend, drawing/coloring, blowing bubbles, or building with blocks and legos. cofronting can allow other alters to work together during play and can help build teamwork and communication. (you don’t need to be a child in order to benefit from play! kids and adults alike can improve inner relationships through playtime.)

if your system has an inner world, y’all can try visualizing something fun to do, or create an adventure for you to go on together. if you’re new to thinking about inner worlds/headspaces, this post from dis-sos has some info on building a headspace and the importance of inside safe spaces for folks with dissociative disorders (we’re assuming y’all have one since you said “alters”). remember that you don’t have to be traumatized in order to benefit from a headspace - it may help y’all get on the same page and learn to cohabit your mind together.

once y’all know a little more about each other, a great way to bond is through doing nice things for each other. so doing a chore that a different alter normally does, making a food that you know a particular alter is fond of, accumulating objects that remind you of each other, making playlists for each other, and simply thinking kind thoughts towards each other may help y’all foster stronger bonds and grow closer as a result. some alters may come forward with their own ideas of group activities once they feel a bit more at ease within the system.

remember patience is so important when it comes to working with alters and forging bonds and connections. it may take some time before your alters start listening to you or show any interest in getting to know each other. they may be skittish, slow to trust, or quick to anger. they may struggle to communicate at all at first. all these things are natural for systems - learning to trust and communicate is a skill just like any other, and new skills take time to master. don’t be discouraged if it takes a while before your alters start to come around!

followers, feel free to share the ways in which your system bonds and what sort of fun activities y’all do together.

we hope this helps! best of luck with getting to know your system :)

🐢 kip and 💫 parker

[theknightmarket]

"What can I say? I'm a badass.”

In which Yancy and a new prisoner find each other behind locked doors.

TW: swearing, angst, crime, childhood trauma, drug mentions

Pages: 26 - Words: 10,500

[Requests: OPEN]

Yancy had only ever been in solitary a handful of times. Six to be exact, but the most recent had landed him in hot water with the Warden, so security was bumped up to the max in Happy Trails Penitentiary. They reached a new record with two police dogs and ten guards on patrol at any one time – which, to many other prisons, didn’t seem much, but it was a big deal for this lot. Hell, it had been a while since they had gotten any new prisoners, save for that infamous pair who actually wanted to leave, and they had succeeded. Or people assumed they did because nobody ever heard from them again after their second night. There was a rumor that one managed to escape through the sewer system, while the other just plain disappeared, though neither was ever proven, and the gossip trailed off into the change in routine or exercise equipment. 

While most prisoners forgot about the pair, Yancy never quite did. There was always something in the back of his mind that reminded him of them, to the point that it got kinda weird. He would hear a helicopter overhead and think of them, and then the kid shuffling down the hallway definitely said their name, and that glowing box they brought in with them was sitting in the Warden’s office as if he had never taken it out. It was getting on his nerves, and, when he swaggered into the mess hall on a bright, sunny morning, it all got too much. 

Yancy made his way over to his usual table, upon which Bam-Bam, Tiny and Sparkless McGee were sprinkled around the plastic benches. Somebody’s meal tray was in the centre, but it was quickly tugged away to make room for him to sit down. 

“Mornin’, Yance,” another prisoner called out, but the guy wasn’t in the mood to respond more than a nod in their vague direction. The others immediately picked up on it – living in the same buildings for ten years would do that to you – and pounced to comfort him. Yancy appreciated his friends, he really did, but it wasn’t what he needed now. 

There were questions as to his health, the condition of his cell, whether his mood was soured by the bright light. All of these were wrong, but it wasn’t until Sparkles stepped up to the plate that he opened up. 

“Visitation day, innit?” Like a sledgehammer to a glass window, Yancy broke the second the ‘v’ came out of his mouth. He wasn’t crying, though! He’d learned that it got him nowhere quick. But he couldn’t help the way his lips shivered, and water pooled in his eyes. That didn’t mean anything, it was just allergies in the barren, completely clear of debris, prison. 

“You wanna talk ‘bout it?” And then Yancy started bawling. 

“I-I just dunno what I did wrong,” he whispered, trying and failing to keep it together. 

The group each chimed in with their ideas, “Maybe they got intimidated by you.” - “Maybe they never got out.” - “Maybe they’re still running from the cops!” but none of them helped him. Yancy loved his clique, they were the closest thing to family he had in the bricks, but he hadn’t told them what really happened to the runaways. None of them even knew they made it past the sewer grate. He wasn’t sure what stopped him from telling them, but something did, and it wasn’t anything he could overcome with some false ideas or promises to visit. They might’ve thought he was crazy, waiting for someone they’d never seen to arrive at the phone, but it was nice they supported him regardless. 

“Ay, ay, whatever it is,” Sparkles slapped a hand onto Yancy’s back, a confusing but strangely effective way of calming him down, “ya did nothing wrong. If they don’ wanna see ya, then it’s their loss.” 

Yancy nodded to himself slowly, then again with more vigor. Sparkles was right; he had a good life on the inside, just not good enough to keep someone new with him. Who cared? Not him, that’s for sure, and he would rest easy knowing that he had everything he needed right there. 

The topic shifted onto something else, and the visitation day was forgotten easily. While, from time to time, Yancy still thought about the escapees, they were generally shoved to the back of his mind, and he focused, instead, on the echo of the bell throughout the prison. After breakfast was an hour of exercise so the inhabitants moved in a messy clump to the backdoor. 

In the midst of prisoners and guards, Yancy felt a tap on one of his shoulders. He had never been good at his left and right, but, when he looked in the direction of that tap, nothing was there. Then, a poke on his… other shoulder, but nobody was there either. His eyebrows tightened and he bristled; he didn’t like being tricked, and there he was, looking like an idiot who didn’t know his left and rights. Never mind the fact that he didn’t, somebody was making fun of him, and he was going to give them a piece of his mind. 

Yet, however mad he might have been getting, it all disappeared at the sight of Sparkles dashing off through the backdoors, a mischievous grin plastered on his face in a look towards Yancy. A smile appeared on his own face as he chased after his friend, grabbing Tiny’s elbow on the way. A chase Sparkles wanted, and a chase he would get. The two followed in between elbows and batons, avoided the edges of tables, and maneuvered more than a few stationary prisoners. Despite the heightened security, the guards couldn’t care less about their little game; if it kept them out of trouble, who were they to stop it? 

So, for the majority of the exercise block, Yancy, Sparkless McGee, Tiny, and whomever they could bring along with them, played a raucous game of tag. Yancy would clamber over dumbbells to get at Bam-Bam, Bam-Bam would sprint through the long-jump sand to catch Tiny, and so on and so forth. He was pretty sure even an officer jumped in to help out Sparkles when he was chasing after another inmate. 

Skidding to a stop at the chain-link fence, Yancy looked around. This was the life, huh? Nobody angry, nobody sad, nobody telling him to do stuff that he didn’t wanna do. Sure, he couldn’t leave the walls of the prison, but he had never wanted to. There was nothing that the outside could give him that he didn’t already have within Happy Trails, and, with his hands firm on his hips, he thought that it would provide less. Could you imagine Yancy with a 9-5 job, buying groceries every three days, and picking the kids up after school? He couldn’t, and he didn’t care to try. 

He could do without the enraged yelling of the Warden from the backdoors, though. 

In quick succession, everyone turned to look at the approaching man, who stampeded against the dirt path like a bull. An ominous hush fell over the yard, but nobody moved a muscle to break it. Instead, they watched intently as the Warden stomped directly to Yancy. 

Now, in public, Mr. Murder-Slaughter might not have looked all that intimidating. He was on the shorter side, balding but well-groomed, and easily imagined with a kind smile. However, if you were to meet the guy inside Happy Trails Penitentiary, you would know he could be the meanest son-of-a-bitch you’d ever encounter. He commanded the prison with an iron fist and used them effectively to scare the inmates into submission. He was only made worse by how quickly he could switch from caring to, as his name would imply, murderous. It was a wonder how he hadn’t been incarcerated himself yet. 

The prisoners counted their lucky stars when he passed by them and wished all the best for Yancy when the Warden’s glare landed on him. 

“Boy, do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Yancy snapped out of his paralyzing fear to lower his eyebrows slightly; he didn’t have any idea, and he wasn’t being given a lot to go off of. So, after risking a glance over his shoulder to Sparkles, he shrugged and replied, “Nuh-no, Warden.”

That response only seemed to push his buttons further, leading to him grasping Yancy’s shoulders as if he would run away if he didn’t hold him there. He was pretty sure he’d be leaving marks in the dirt when he moved again. 

“Well, then, lemme show ya—” The Warden pulled the boy ahead of him and shoved him in the direction of the cafeteria again. It was hard for Yancy to hide his disappointment, he always had been terrible at covering up emotion, but it didn’t take much for the other inmates to worry for him, before they were cut off by a yell of, “—and get back to your regularly scheduled exercise!” 

That sent them into a frenzy, people grasping for handles and throwing each other into the air to seem like they were working out. Yancy didn’t take notice of any of it, too worried about what he was being brought to the Warden’s office for. While he had never spent too long in a school setting, likening it to the principal’s office was the best he could do, and he didn’t like either scenario. 

“Go on, sit,” Mr. Murder-Slaughter ordered, faking serenity in the face of pure wrath. He landed himself in his own chair, pulled it close to the desk and held his fingertips together overtop the mat. Altogether, he was scary. 

Yancy gulped as he followed suit in the seat opposite. 

“Why d’ya think you’re here, boy?” The stinging kindness was cracking by the second, especially with the venom unleashed at the end. 

Yancy spluttered for a second. He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong recently, but it was anyone’s guess as to what would set the Warden off if he’d had a bad day. Weakly, he muttered, “I dunno.”

“Well, I’ll let ya what ya did!” he exploded, slamming a fist onto the wood of the desk. There was an audible crack as one of the legs dented the stones underneath, and, for the first time in a while, Yancy found himself actually fearing the Warden. It brought up some all-too-familiar experiences, memories that he’d rather keep buried. 

His eyes looked down, his hands clasped together, his lips quivered. He didn’t like this at all, but he couldn’t just leave. That’d get him in even bigger trouble.

The Warden either didn’t notice or didn’t care, because he continued just as strict as he was before, “Not only did you let two high-class prisoners escape, but you also helped them!” He shot up from his seat, the back of it slamming against the wall and shaking the furniture. Bringing a hand to his forehead, he sighed, “We needed them to stay here, but you just had to get them out. Do you want that, too?”

“No, Warden—” 

“Do you want to leave, too, huh? ‘Cause we can make that happen, just say the word.” 

Yancy was on the verge of shaking, and he could feel the tremors starting to make their way through his spine. He kept his cool, though, bit his lip, and shook his head. “No, Warden, I don’t wanna leave.”

This seemed to calm him down, as his voice dropped to an acceptable volume. Still, he leaned in close over the desk and stared intently into Yancy’s eyes. Really, it was creepy, but he didn’t know what else to do than to stare right back. If he was trying to tell if he was lying, or he just liked putting his inmates on edge, Yancy would never find out; the Warden withdrew as if nothing had happened, and he collapsed again into his chair. 

“Look, kid, I get it.” He didn’t believe him. “You see a fresh face, here, and they actually wanna get out so ya help them, ‘cause they’re interesting and new. But that can’t happen no more, or we’ll lose our budget and we’ll, eh, we’ll have to let some of ya go.” 

The suggestive look on the Warden’s face scared Yancy. His eyes widened involuntarily, and he, regrettably, started to think once more about life on the outside. What a horrible fate! He’d sooner get transferred than be integrated back into normal society. 

“So,” he coughed, “we’re gonna have to give you a punishment. Nothing too serious, but it won’t be fun for ya.”

Yancy understood that he did a bad thing and he needed to have some repercussions for his actions. Personally, he would’ve considered being abandoned by those people he helped to get out punishment enough, but the Warden didn’t need to know about that; if they ever did come, he didn’t want them to get re-arrested just for his spite. 

“Now, we’ve had some time to think over a suitable punishment for ya, and we’re all pretty certain this will work out perfectly. It’s light, but you better learn your lesson from it.” 

Hey, he would’ve assumed the worst had it not been for his comforting tone, but it seemed like Yancy was getting off relatively scot-free. 

“Two weeks in solitary!” 

Damn it.

Not ten minutes later, Yancy was stuffed in a barren cell, cold as the grave and the smell of one, too. If he looked hard enough, he would probably interrupt the funeral service for plenty of insects and vermin, but he did little more than take a deep breath, regret it, and flop down on the makeshift slab of a bed. The concrete provided no comfort, and minimal streams of light that trickled in from the small window just teased him. Was it a mistake to help those two escape? Was it worth it?

Any thoughts of doubt were wiped as he recalled the hopeful look on one of their faces and the warm, glow-y feeling that filled up his stomach. Yancy didn’t have many opportunities to do good in the penitentiary, but the times that he made the better choice were ones he cherished. 

He focused on those memories for a while, trying to keep out the silence and ignoring the steady fall of the sun and rise of the moon. It wasn’t like he could do anything else to keep busy; solitary wasn’t a physical punishment, but it worked wonders because it was mental. Everything was boring after just a few minutes, and the people who came out the other side were more forgiving, more docile than the ones who had gone in. It acted like a factory machine that pressed inmates into the same shape, just for them to be dumped into an incinerator at the end of it all. 

Not Yancy, though – he prided himself on being one of the only prisoners to get out just the same as ever. That’s why he was able to go in six times without cracking. Overtime, he just built up a tolerance to it, like a disease or the chef’s bad cooking. Never once did his happy-go-lucky aura dim. 

As the times before this had gone, Yancy was humming to himself by the first half hour. It wasn’t like anyone could tell him to shut it – it was solitary, after all, he was alone – and the quiet was the hardest thing to get along with in the cells. It was some little tune he had heard over the guard’s radio, sweet and slow and easy. He hadn’t much time to practice, but he thought he was pretty good so far. Instruments had been banned after one of the kids smashed a guitar over an officer’s head, and thus whistling lessons had been introduced, and were quickly discontinued when they realized the prisoners were terrible at it. He hadn’t heard anyone whistle for months since then, meaning he was his personal jukebox for the time being.  

“You’re actually pretty good.” 

Yancy nearly screamed. 

He scrambled like a cat doused in water to the other side of his cell, falling off the concrete slab and pressing himself next to the tiny desk. He wasn’t alone, after all, but that thought played second to the panicked thoughts that rushed through his mind unnoticed and unpicked upon. Breaths came in and out of his lungs at much the same speed, until he coughed and stood tall. It was instinct, and he felt stupid enough to sit back down when he fully realized he was trying to size up against the brick wall. 

Finally catching his breath, Yancy asked shakily, “Wh- who’re youse?”

Figuring that this guy would be your only company in this dingy cell, you gladly gave him your name. He repeated it in an accent you weren’t overly familiar with. 

“Who are you?” you asked in turn when silence had settled once more. 

His tone was overly defensive. “Who wants ta know?”

You looked with a confused glare at the brick wall his voice was coming from. He looked back. 

“Yancy,” he eventually answered. 

Immediately, a wave of realization overcame you; as you were being transported to Happy Trails Penitentiary, your drivers had been holding a very spirited conversation about this one lad. Hyperactive, the ringleader of these prisoners, but pure in a weird sort of way. He knew how to fight, sure, but show him an R-rated movie and you’d want to shove your hands over his ears at the first curse word. There wasn’t much more information than that, but it was enough to get the gist of what the guy was like. The only thing that interested you more was the mention of his name and his place of origin – Yancy, either from Ohio or Brooklyn, and the stark combination was apparently possible given who they were talking about. Now that you were actually hearing it, although it was muffled slightly by the walls, you understood. 

“You don’t say…” You chuckled to yourself, unheard by Yancy. 

You left the introductions at that. You weren’t sure how you’d pass the time yet, so you focused on your surroundings. It wasn’t much, but you’d seen worse solitaries before. Briefly, you wondered if this could even be considered solitary confinement, considering that it wasn’t, y’know, solitary, but you learned a long time ago to never look a gift horse in the mouth, so you brushed off the thought and kept looking around. The slab you currently sat on was no different to the floor, down to the conspicuous stains splashed around the place. It was a vast change to the weirdly welcoming exterior of the prison.

With how quickly you had succumbed to the quiet, you almost flinched when Yancy began to speak again. It was notably more collected than before, but not aggressive. “So, what’re youse in for?”

Your head tilted involuntarily at his choice of words, but you answered him nonetheless, “Well, I’ve committed arson, assault and property damage, but I got done in for trespassing on this old guy’s farm.” 

The laughter came quick and hard, like a tidal wave crashing over a beach, and it almost made you forget that you were in prison at all. Yancy’s voice was sweet, and it extended to the chortled that weaved through the cracks in the brick. You soon joined him with a few chuckles of your own, and, when you had both calmed down, finished with, “What can I say? I’m a badass.” 

That got another giggle out of him, but he went silent for the next seconds. What you couldn’t see was Yancy rearranging himself to sit comfortably back on his slab, back against the wall between you and his legs crossed in front of him. It was better than the ground, and he was filled with a strange sense of comradery; he’d never had someone else with him in solitary, so it was a nice change of pace to have someone new to talk to. 

“What about you?” you asked, mindlessly gazing out of the window. 

“I killed my mum.” 

Despite you not being that much better, the sound you made was somewhere between a gasp and a sigh, coming out as a strangled ‘euf’. Most prisoners you’d come across were guarded about that kind of stuff, especially if it was someone they were related to, but you supposed it was different around here. You’d have to get used to that if you were planning to stay your sentence this time. 

Your eyebrows furrowed and your lips momentarily parted. “Did she deserve it?”

Again, silence flooded back in. Someone lifted the trap, let water pool around your legs, and then Yancy slammed it shut as he replied, “Nah, but it had ta’ be done.”

You could accept that, and he wasn’t going to talk more about it, so you had no other choice. Besides, it wasn’t your place to comment on the morality of his actions, especially when you had no idea why it ‘had ta’ be done’.

Yancy didn’t seem affected by his admission, though, and he continued to speak. “Been here most of my life, so it didn’t really matter that I got caught so fast.”

“How’d you get by?”

“Ah, well, I had my friends, ‘course. They really helped me out in the tighter spots, y’know? Like, when Sparkles landed here and helped me fight off these thugs. Only eighteen, too, so we kinda stuck together after that.” 

You unknowingly shuffled forward on your bed, easily enticed by Yancy’s stories with nothing else to do in the cell. His voice was pleasant to listen to, you’d admit that, and the childish joy that painted it was a lifeline in the bleakness. 

“He’s the guy with the jangly stuff, right?”

“Yeah! Sparkles McGee‘s his full name. I dunno if he’s Irish or not, he don’t have an accent, but he can be as intimidating as one when someone gets on his bad side.”

There was a menagerie of characters in Happy Trails, meaning that the ones who stood out were either widely outrageous or completely normal; Sparkles was one of the former, and you had remembered hearing clinking from the hallway you were being tugged down before a brunet man emerged from around the corner. You were surprised that he was allowed to keep the things on him, but you weren’t one to waste a perfect opportunity when the guard was yelling at him to slow down. 

No point in dwelling on that, now, and you prompted Yancy, “Who else are you close with?”

“There’s Jimmy the Pickle, and Shithole Hank – Bam-Bam, and Tiny, and, yeah, Sparkles McGee…” Technically, Yancy could a majority of the prisoners, and even some guards. He’d been in there long enough to have made a rag-tag family for himself, gotten close to the people living out life-sentences and wished the shorter ones on their merry way. 

“Sounds like you’ve got a lot of sway in this place,” you commented, not mischievous but more surprised that the officers let him get so much power. 

“Well, I wouldn’t call it sway, but… yeah, I guess I do.” 

And then you asked the dreaded question. It had been on your mind since you’d first heard him whistling, but you kept it under wraps for the sake of conversation. Now, with a lull and suitable point, you couldn’t help but ask, “So, how’d you end up in solitary?”

The water level rose to the point that it felt like you were drowning, your mind fuzzing over with concern when Yancy dropped into utter stillness. Hell, you might’ve thought he’d keeled over dead with how quiet he was being, but you heard him rise off of his slab and walk around his cell. He was searching for an answer to your question, not that you could see, that wouldn’t bring him to tears. Without his group to help him through it, he didn’t want to break down, and in front of a newbie, no less. 

Regret fogging your thoughts, you jumped to say, “Y-ya don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” 

The pacing stopped and those chains that held up his bed clinked against the wall. “Nah, it’s fine—” You feared he was lying, and, by the crack in his voice, you were probably correct, “—I, uh, helped some people escape, and the Warden found out ‘bout it, chucked me in here and probl’y threw away the key.” He tried to joke about it, to bring back the light atmosphere, but it didn’t work. The corners of your mouth deepened, and you instinctively pushed your back against the wall, as if being closer would give him some kind of comfort. 

Yancy only felt the frigid embrace of the stone, though. The happiness leaked out of his voice, leaving only the numbed, plain words to give you context. “It was these two newbies, got caught trynna hijack a helicopter after stealing some box. Never found out what it was all about, but I took it from the Warden’s office and helped ‘em get out through the sewer.” He could feel the tears building up in his throat. “They said they’d visit me, but they haven’t yet.” Bringing his legs to his chest and wrapping his arms around them to keep it tight, he tried to block out the sting in his chest from the first visitation day that had rolled around. When he had woken up bright and early, made himself all neat for them to come through the doors, but, well, he remembered how it went. 

“Damn,” was all that you muttered. You weren’t equipped to deal with this kind of situation, especially since all that you were able to offer were kind words and a soft tone. “I’m sorry, kid.” 

“Hey, ain’t that just life, though?” he muttered. Trying to convince himself of that fact was harder than saying it but pretending like he truly believed it was easiest. Ignoring the problem came second, so Yancy whispered something about getting a good night’s rest and rolled onto his side on his slab. It wasn’t comfortable, and he quickly began to miss the comforting stiffness of his cot. 

You, however, would remain awake for the next hour or so, contemplating how you had gotten to this point. You wouldn’t call it rock-bottom, but it was definitely deeper than you were comfortable with. The agency you worked for gave you five strikes in the slammer before they left you to rot, and this was lucky number six for you. Spite tapped at your mind; those suits in upper management hadn’t seen a hard day’s work in their life, and they had the gall to blame you for your imprisonment after a job they ordered you do! Grinding your teeth together, you imagined their faces, prime and ready for a beating, when you got out – in ten to twelve years. 

They should have been hoping you’d mellow out over time. Not likely, given your history, but it was their fault for keeping you there. 

Although vastly unsupported by the prison’s psychologist, you and Yancy both fell asleep with troubled thoughts. 

Unsurprisingly, you woke up with an aching back and growling stomach. Getting processed early in the day was a bad move, since it meant you’d miss both of the meals offered in the prison. You regretted getting caught at all, but fate could have been a bit kinder with the times. It was a good thing, then, that only half an hour or so after you’d regained thought, a tray of bland-looking food was shoved underneath your door. The metal slat closed behind it, leaving you the mismatched leftovers of the other prisoners’ breakfast. 

The apple had rolled onto the stained floor and the dent containing what might have been porridge did not have any utensils. The milk looked alright, though, so you juggled it into your hands and leaned back on the wall. It reminded you of those movies you’d watched as a kid, the middle-school ones that you’d only ever seen a carton of milk in. You would have laughed at your first encounter being in a prison, but you were interrupted by Yancy.

“Morning.” He sounded almost unsure, as if he were afraid of getting nothing but silence back. Momentarily, he was proven correct when you were stunned by the ineffectual bout of morning voice the guy had. All of your limbs ceased movement, your eyes went wide, and you had to take a second to come to your senses. Suddenly, you were thankful for the wall separating the two of you. 

Coughing lightly, you called back, “Morning to you, too.” 

A grimace overcame your mouth when you realized that the carton was now completely dry, and you threw it to a corner of your cell. It landed with a muted thump into a pit of mold growing there. Your grimace deepened. 

“How’d you sleep?” you asked. You assumed not great, but the silence was worse than an awkward conversation. 

Yancy grunted, barely audible through the bricks, and then spoke, “’Bout as good as I do normally in here.” 

“You’ve been in solitary before?”

“Ya sound surprised.” The small chuckle was appreciated, and you found yourself smiling alongside him. 

“Yeah, I guess,” you responded, “you just give off this golden-retriever persona.”

Yancy was almost shocked. He hadn’t thought about how he came off to strangers, but that was mainly because he hadn’t interacted with one for years. Well, except…

He shook his head, manually removing the thoughts from his brain like cleaning out a junk drawer. “Is that a compliment?” It didn’t work, and, although he continued the conversation, his mind was far from it. 

“I don’t know, I haven’t been here long enough to gauge the people here. Hence, asking you about your friends.”

That made sense, and you could have moved onto a different topic entirely, but Yancy kept being dragged back to the escapees. Despite only having known of you for a day, he liked talking to you. It kept his mind off of being in solitary, and he wanted to get one more thing off of his chest to rest his weary heart. 

“D’ya wanna leave?” 

It came out faster and clumsily blunter than he would’ve wanted, but it got the point across. If you said that you did, then he could just cut all contact and go quiet; he didn’t want to get attached to someone he was going to lose, though the worry that he already had definitely tapped at the edge of his mind.

You leaned back against the wall, further into the bricks as if you were able to phase through them with enough focus. You remained in the cell, where Yancy was still waiting for an answer. Did you want to leave? Well, of course, you did, there wasn’t anything better here than there was on the outside, and escaping wasn’t that hard of a feat given the shamefully low security. 

But, then again, was there anything waiting for you back home? Prison meant keeping you trapped in one place, but the agency you worked for already did that. You were stuck in this city until they signed sixty forms to send you somewhere else, upon which you’d commit a crime, probably get arrested again, and then shoved in another cell again! It was a worse loss for them than it was for you, and, here, you had been having some nice conversation. Nice enough to stay for a little while, anyway, and, who knows, maybe you’ll be convinced to wait out your sentence for once.

Sighing, somewhat relieved that you had made the decision to stay, you replied, “Nah.” 

And if you were relieved, Yancy was ecstatic. He resisted getting up and doing some kind of frenzied tap-dance out of excitement, and, instead, stayed rooted to his slab. He didn’t know exactly why he was so happy, but he was, and he was fine with that. He would deal with those unknown feelings later, when he had Sparkles and Bam-Bam and Tiny to help him through. Maybe you’d join them, and he could introduce you to everyone and—

He was getting ahead of himself. In the confines in his room, it didn’t matter that he blushed a deep crimson or that he had to bite his lip to keep his grin from spreading any further. He busied himself with scrambling to the floor and dragging his finger along the soot-covered bricks. 

“You alright there, Yancy?”

You received no answer, save for the scraping and tapping that had made you curious in the first place. You watched where the sounds were coming from until they focused on one place in particular. Tap, tap, tap. They slowly became more forceful, a few seconds worth of securing one point on a brick, and then the thing was punched out altogether. The chipped rectangle tumbled into the wall opposite, revealing a tanned hand in its place. 

It waved. 

A laugh broke out of you, to the point where you nearly fell off your bed altogether. “How’d you figure that out?” you asked, in awe of the guy. 

“One of the first times I was in here, I brought contraband with me, so I needed a place ta’ keep it while they did searches,” Yancy answered, “Nobody was ever in youse’s cell, so I shoved all my stuff in there.”

“Smart.”

He practically started glowing at that compliment, as if a switch had been flipped in his head. His smile slightly dipped, though, when he saw your abandoned tray on the ground in front of the hole. 

“Ya not eating?”

You shrugged. “Not too into stuff that can’t decide whether it’s a solid or liquid. Plus, I’m not gonna use my hands to eat gruel.” 

“Oh, the guards do that to newbies – somein’ like hazing, but it ain’t good for youse’s health.” 

“So, frat hazing?”

Your comment went unanswered as Yancy slid back on his stomach to prop himself upright. It was only a couple seconds before another object came rolling through the gap. It bumped against the wall, knocking off some dust, but looked fine, otherwise. You picked it up. 

“You sure?” you questioned tentatively, inspecting the rose-red apple. 

“Youse gots to eat something, right?”

This time, it was you who blushed as deep as a sea trench. You weren’t sure whether it was his nature, or you were a special case, or you were just the only option, but Yancy was being nice to you. Genuinely sweet, and it was a weird experience for you. You barely knew anything about him, held one conversation with him, and yet you thought he was the best part of this prison. It wasn’t a high bar, but it was something, and you could feel yourself growing more and more fond of him as the seconds ticked on.

But that didn’t mean you would go without clarification. 

Now resting on the floor, which didn’t feel as bad as you had presumed, you guided your tray into Yancy’s cell. There was a pleasant gasp exchanged for it, while you pointed out, “We just met.”

Another more confused noise was sent your way.

“Why are you being so nice to me? Talking to me, telling me about you, all that stuff. Why?”

Yancy knew this could go one of two ways; he could lie and say that he just liked your attitude, maybe that he didn’t want this awkward silence between you – or he could tell you the truth. The cold, hard, honest truth. 

His shoulders dropped and the lights in his eyes dimmed as he realized that his fears were not mistaken.

“Guess I just got attached.”

You stopped short of responding for the better half of the next minute. While that may have seemed infinitesimal in the grand scheme of things, it mattered to you, and it mattered to Yancy. You were given some time to consider the facts, apply the idea to his actions, while Yancy got scared. His fears surrounded him in the cold cell, and he wondered if he had blown his chances barely a day into knowing you. He tried to assure himself that it wouldn’t matter if you went completely silent, but both that and the bigger part of him knew that was a lie. 

Going quiet when given a fact was a bad habit of yours, something that the prison boy would have to get used to if you were to stay talking. It happened a lot and normally didn’t mean anything bad at all, so he was able to breathe a sigh of relief when you answered back, “That makes sense.”

This time, Yancy was only confused. “Whad’ya mean?”

“Well—” you shuffled back against the wall again. You noticed it was a very cramped room, “—you told me about those people you helped escape. You must’ve cared about them if you risked getting solitary for them, and they haven’t come back. That’s gotta be rough on you.”

You weren’t a therapist by any means, but you’d sat in a psychology lecture back when you were in college. That, and it was pretty obvious what was going on.

“Yancy, you have abandonment issues.”

His head hit the bricks. His one visit with the prison’s psychologist had told him that much, but he’d never taken it to heart. Everyone had something wrong with them! His was just… more intense than other people’s. Or, he used to think that, but getting so attached to someone he had just met made it only more clear to him. 

Not hearing a response, and unable to hear the thoughts slowly settling in Yancy’s mind, you prompted, “We can talk about it, if you want?” 

“Yeah- yeah, I’d like that.”

The hours passed slowly, but they were full to the brim of venting, comforting and a few jokes sprinkled in here and there. It was a period of no holds barred, and everything was let out like opening a dam. The water swept up whatever was there already, the preconceived notions, the awkwardness, the discontentment – and it left behind warmth. Arguments were avoided and topic were reassessed. By the end of the second day in solitary, Yancy could confidently say that a lot of his issues were worked thoroughly. He would only phrase it like that because that was what you likened it to: if you don’t work dough, the bread that comes out will be floppy and weak, but if you knead it all equally, it’ll be able to hold its shape on its own. 

He liked that analogy, he liked most of what you said, but a particularly touchy subject came up while you both talked over your dinner. 

Yancy was almost knocked off of his feet when the words left your mouth, and he had to take a second to centre himself. After all, he wasn’t feeling overly emotional, and this certain thing only came out when he was overwhelmed. Whether it was anger or sadness, he was exclusive to the bad times. 

“We don’t have to talk about him right now, but parents are normally behind a lot of issues,” you offered, facing the hole in the wall. Your tray of food had been discarded when you realized you still didn’t have any utensils. Of course, Yancy was kind enough to trade with you again, leaving you with three apple cores in the corner of your room. 

He hadn’t taken a bite of anything.

“So, it’s normal, then?” His vision was downcast, a stark change in tone showing hope and doubt. 

You shrugged slightly. “Normally doesn’t end with murder, but yeah.”

Yancy sighed, breathed in, and continued to exchange breaths until he felt he was ready. When he had fully quietened, he whispered just barely loud enough to hear, “I’m ready.”

“Then start from the beginning.”

Yancy’s upbringing could be described, as many others could, as rough. The only problem with that would be it wouldn’t do it justice on its own. Add in depressing, dramatic and downright traumatic, and you would get a better picture. To CPS, this was not what they saw; an employee once ended up at their front door, and what they saw was something entirely different. Baked cookies cooling on the table, washed clothes hanging on the line outside and smiling faces everywhere you looked. It was a front designed perfectly for that person to not report anything but joy back to the top. 

But on days when visits were not scheduled, it was a nightmare. Yancy was born an only child, but to scrape up extra cash, his parents gathered a gaggle of children to babysit on weekdays. Tom was his favorite, Jane was adorable, and a pair of twins who lived a block down were trouble. It was all fine, except none of them got more attention than a pleading smile from Yancy’s mother, and a venomous, snide look from the man of the house.

His father hated kids. God knows why he had one of his own in the first place, and not even he knew why he stuck around. They would have been better off without him, Yancy would have been better off without him. He wouldn’t have been spending his early mornings biking down alleyways and trading bricks for cash. It was no secret that Yancy’s father was the town’s dealer, half of them were too scared to report him and the other half were his clients. The time he should have been spending learning the Pythagoras theorem or what a noun was, he was busy evading the cops’ daily routes and dishing out little, transparent baggies. His grammar never got better, that’s for sure, and, on one sunny Thursday afternoon, he ended up a couple streets away from Brooklyn. 

And when he returned home with a new accent and interesting dialect, home-life went from a nightmare to pure hell. 

He could remember that day like it was yesterday, as clear in his mind as the last shower he took. Shame it wasn’t as warm, or as comforting or homely. It was the complete opposite, in fact, because that was the day that everything twisted.

Freshly sixteen at the time, Yancy wandered through the overgrown grass, followed the stone path like the back of his hand. The rocks were cracked in two from being picked up and thrown, and dirt was visible around each piece. The front door creaked when he pushed against it, not even fully closer, and paint chips rained down on his shoes. It wasn’t a nice house, but it was one of the bigger ones that could fit as many people as they wanted it to. He couldn’t say it was in good condition, though. 

Jane was quick to race up to him the second he stepped inside. He was flooded with cold, but her little smile sure made up for it. She was so excited to show him her schoolwork. The crayon drawing surely a picture for the fridge – he wondered how she ended up here. 

There was some yelling from upstairs, but he ignored it in favor of heading to the kitchen. He knew his father would be in there, counting bills or sorting out pills. He had been such a scumbag, doing the same thing no matter who was around. 

Keeping as quiet as possible, Yancy tried to be subtle in opening the cupboard. A cough from his left. It hadn’t worked, and even though he was sure the man despised every breath he took, he liked keeping tabs on the people around him. 

“Did everything go well today?” 

Really, he should’ve just said yes, and left it at that. He should’ve been in and out of the room like a flash. He should’ve been quiet. 

But he was tired of being quiet. This guy that lived in the same house as him had no power over him. He had his bike, he could leave whenever he wanted, and his mother? Those times together, when it was just the two of them, were times he would treasure until the end of his life, but they were too few and too far between. His father shadowed every little interaction, as if a single word misplaced would mean the gallows. The one important thing that his father taught him was that consequences only mattered if you had a plan to get far. 

So, he opened his mouth and replied, “Nah, dad, and I’d think youse’d know that.” 

A strange accent, especially coming from someone you barely conversed with, should not have been that hard-hitting, but it set something off in the man. The bag of whatever-the-hell drug he was pushing now slammed to the table and bootsteps replaced the distant hum of a faulty boiler. 

“What’d you say to me, boy?”

Yancy wasn’t a tall 16-year-old, but he made up for it with confidence, real or not. He broadened his shoulders and stuck out his chin. 

“Youse heard me.”

“Youse? Where’d that come from?” 

His tone was annoyingly plain, his words not worth staining with anything but deadpan. Yancy wasn’t worth it, apparently, and it only worked to fuel his anger. 

“Don’t talk like that,” he ordered, “We’re from Ohio.”

In a fit of something more than rage, Yancy pushed against his chest and sent himself stumbling backwards. “Youse is from Ohio! We ain’t a family!” 

“Don’t raise your voice to me.” 

This would have been a good time to calm down, but he was on a roll with no sign of stopping. “I’ll do whatever I want! You don’t got nothin’ over me.” 

Yancy twisted on his heel, ready to storm out to his bike and never come back into that hellhole, but a rough hand on his shoulder rooted his feet into the ground.

“Look,” he huffed, “I didn’t send you to school for you to end up speaking like this—”

If Yancy’s blood wasn’t boiling by now, then that surely did it. “Youse didn’t send me to school at all!” he yelled, tears billowing into his eyes, “I ain’t been to school in years, and youse’d know if you paid any goddamn attention to your kid, but youse don’t, so I ain’t gonna pay any attention to youse.”

The man’s tone shifted from enraged to a chilling calmness. He spoke as if he were explaining the alphabet to a child, “And why do you think I don’t pay any attention to you?”

He spluttered for an answer, eventually landing on a shaky, “Th-this ain’t a therapy session, youse just don’t like me.”

Now, he seemed almost shocked, and Yancy was almost going to punch him in the gut. “And why would you think I didn’t like you?”

“’Cause you—” His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. He was trying to find an answer to this question, but even though it had years of evidence building up, nothing concrete came to mind, “— ‘cause you don’t! Don’t try to trick me, I know what you’re doing!”

“See,” a smile broke out onto his face, “there you go, back to normal.” 

And, with that cheerful proclamation, he began to stalk back to his seat, where mismatched pills and baggies lay. Yancy felt his own feet move before he had the conscious thought to. 

“Not back to normal!” he shouted back, a painful voice crack diminishing his confidence. 

It was then that his mother peaked her head through the doorway, toting a frowning Tom behind her. Her clothes were torn in places, and a subtle, red splatter marred the bottom of her skirt. Yancy would have been concerned about this new feature if his mind weren’t clouded by anger towards the guy who made it happen.

Nevertheless, she asked meekly, “Is everything alright in here?”

His father was fast to answer, “Yes, everything is fine.”

Yancy wasn’t having it and, instead, jumped to cover up, “No, it’s not, dad—”

Like a sibling reprimanding the tattletale, the fully-grown man rolled his eyes and hissed, “Oh, be quiet for once in your life, Yancy.”

The lady was on the verge of saying his name, just a small word to get him to calm down, but he saw right through her and snapped, “Back off, woman.”

“Hey, don’t talk to her like that!” 

In the corner of his eye, Yancy saw Tom slowly creep back to the staircase. His mother was too shocked to stop him, and his father, oh, his father tilted his head to look back to his only son. The careless smirk he once sported dropped into a vile scowl. 

“So, you’re the man of the house, now, eh?” he mocked. 

His skin turned cold, and shivers threatened to move him like an earthquake. Still, he replied, “Damn right I am, youse ain’t good enough.”

“Don’t speak to your father like that,” came another reprimand. Thinking back on it, he wasn’t sure if it was his dad or mum, but he was sure that it happened, and it pissed him off.

“Youse ain’t—”

Two hands secured tightly on his shoulders held him in place. Any thoughts of running or even taking a step back were banished from his mind. Out of fear of inability, he wasn’t sure, but he was forced to listen as his father ordered, “Either you stop that dumbass dialect of yours, or you can get out.” 

His face got so close that he could see the wrinkles and off-set tan lines that ran laps around his eyes. The malicious glint the brown contained, the worst-kept secret of his family. His father was the devil himself, and he was sure that if he wanted to do anything to help them, he’d have to figure out what God did to get him out of heaven. 

“So, what’s it gonna be, huh, son?” 

Just six hours later, Yancy got out alright – it just wasn’t in the way his father had expected. 

Blood on his hands, dripping a candy-trail for the four other children towards the police van, Yancy was barely conscious of him sitting down inside. He didn’t notice the revving of the engine, the moving of the scenery, the pat-down, the induction, any of it. It all passed in a blur, but he knew one thing for sure. 

He didn’t want to be free – ever again. 

You sat wide-eyed against the wall. You had expected a simple fight, teenage rebellion, and a bad attitude to the law. Yancy’s story was not that, in fact, but it, surprisingly, made more sense. Yancy was kind and generous and he understood the value of good relationships. That normally only happened after something bad. 

And that was definitely something bad. 

A sigh escaped your lungs as you processed the new information. It didn’t hurt any pre-conceived notions, it added to the ones you had been working on, actually. The whole abandonment thing, the protective golden retriever persona, it all made sense even with this new development. 

A few moments after his final words, you nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

Now that everything had settled, you were fine with it. It wasn’t surprising, considering where you were – the solitary wing of a penitentiary – and you actually commended Yancy for getting busted for something he believed in. It was a lot better than you; you were just doing your job for some capitalist pig.

Yancy was more shocked than you were. You had accepted this side of him faster than anyone had before. Maybe that was just your personality – or maybe you were in denial. Right now, though, he didn’t care, and that was a great feeling. 

“So, do you want to start with the kids?” you asked, stretching out your back after so long lost in his story. 

Confusion struck him faster than his consciousness could keep up with. Why would you want to talk about them? Then, of course, he remembered why he had told you about his whole deal in the first place, and a blush crept like a snake up his neck. 

He laughed awkwardly, “Yeah.” And he was more than happy to talk about his little group of troublemakers.

Speaking of which, his current group of troublemakers had been rioting outside of the warden’s office for the past two days. They still adhered to their schedule, going to their cells before lights out and eating when told to, but you best believe that every other minute was spent blocking Mr. Murder-Slaughter’s door. That was, in total, an hour and six minutes per day, but that was enough to get on his nerves.

Coming back to the prison after a night out with his family, he was both amazed and annoyed to find Yancy’s clique sitting with make-shift signs, blocking his way back to his room. He pinched the bridge of his nose, heaved the largest huff he could muster and gathered all of the officers in the penitentiary. 

When everyone was all in one place, he called out, “Does anyone know what is going on with our prisoners?” 

Nobody answered for a second, but soon, a young newbie was shoved into the pit in front of the Warden. 

“W-well, they’re protesting… sir.” 

“Protesting what?”

“That guy, their friend, they don’t like that he’s in solitary.” 

He had expected them to be mad, but he didn’t think it’d get to this point – but, that begged the question, why were they still there!?

“And why is no one doing anything about it?”

More silence, until the first guy took it upon himself to just be the spokesperson in general. Lightly, he coughed into his hand and answered, “They’re not doing anything wrong. They have a right to be there.” 

The Warden looked dumbly at the kid. He was barely over 20, it was a wonder as to how he landed this job, but he had, and he also had the unfortunate job of breaking any news to the boss there. Murder-Slaughter pitied him. 

“You’re guards, for Christ’s sake, you have weapons!”

“Y-yeah, but it’s… it’s illegal, sir.” He was getting more confidence the more they talked, and he was even beginning to be backed up by his colleagues. A few prisoners looked around the corner and went to tell Yancy’s group of the events. 

“Who cares?”

“The law, and we do, too, sir.”

He spluttered, spit out some half-assed remark about their power – the kid retaliated with morality, he hissed another order, he battled it back, and this whole circle went on for another ten minutes before the Warden had reached his limit. 

“I don’t care what you do, just get them away from my door!” 

He stormed away, to who knows where because his office was inaccessible, but that left the officers with all the power to do whatever they wanted. 

And, surprisingly, that fully aligned with the rules, because rhythmic steps broke through the faint chatter of solitary. A distant drip of water had the newbie grimacing, but he made his way down the hallway, nonetheless, swinging a chain of keys all the while. It was only when he came to an occupied cell did he stop. 

“Hey?” he called out awkwardly.

Equally as awkward, Yancy yelled back, “Hey…?”

“Your friends have, um, mutinied, I guess?”

If you were able to see each other, you and Yancy would have shared a confused but entertained look. 

“So?” Yancy asked.

“You’re free to leave.”

The metal door swung into the brick wall, luckily covering up the hole, and prompting the prisoner to stand up. His back cracked from how long he had spent on the floor, and, although this clearly meant he was able to go back to the comfort of his own cell, it was overshadowed by a guilty, sad feeling. Had he gotten used to the confinement? It’d barely been a week, and he hadn’t succumbed to it that easily before, so it was unlikely. Then, it occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, he had gotten used to you. The person who got him through a lot of his problems and comforted him, even though they had seen little more than a tattooed hand. His cell mate. 

A near attempt to call out to you was shut down by a pair of cold, calculated cuffs snapping against his wrists. He had nearly forgotten this was a prison, and he was considered dangerous. Your reaction had made that strange reality to him. 

Back through the rooms, back through the corridors, back through, back, back, back – further away from you. He began to feel guilty, disappointed; he missed you already, and he noticed that his attachment issues hadn’t been solved just quite yet. He frowned. 

His cell wasn’t as comforting as when he had left it. The bed was comfortable, it flattened under his weight, and yet, the material was mocking him. He drew his legs to his chest and stared at the wall across from him. It was concrete. It was sturdy and complete. 

His eyes and heart fell. 

It took Yancy a week to feel better. His friends, when he had approached them that evening for dinner, were welcoming and helpful. They cheered and talked and joked just as they had before he had gone into solitary. Sparkles threw mashed potatoes at Tiny, Bam-Bam fought back with churned milk – but nothing was the same for Yancy. It didn’t bring him the same joy to see his friends as it had before. He couldn’t resist the thought that something was missing, and he knew exactly what that something was. He was almost ashamed to admit that he missed you after barely a day of talking to you, but he reminded himself of what you’d said to him. He didn’t have to be ashamed, so he wasn’t. It was his decision. 

That didn’t stop him from missing you in the first place, though. 

And all throughout the next seven days, going through the schedule, he thought about what he’d show to you when you got out. Maybe the exercise equipment, or the food that you’d actually get utensils with, or his cell! You’d probably appreciate a good place to sleep for a while, you weren’t exactly likely to get much sleep on a concrete slab. 

With those ideas in mind, he started to get excited for your release. Sitting on the table with his friends, he glanced around. They had been given the general idea of who you were, but your physical appearance was something he couldn’t pinpoint, and he kept some of the topics of conversation close to the chest. He’d blush furiously when they talked about it, and even more so when it turned into teasing. Stuff about his getting a crush, like a schoolboy, made him grow redder and redder, to the point he wasn’t sure if his blood was on the inside or out. 

All of that was nothing compared to when you emerged, handcuffed, and dressed in the prison garb, from the solitary wing. 

He might’ve passed out had he not been sitting on the table, but he couldn’t help his eyes swimming along your figure. He had expected gorgeousness but Jesus… Now, for completely new reasons, his feet moved quicker than his brain, and Yancy gripped your hand – rough, calloused, amazing – and tugged you into any random hallway. Lucky for him, the guards seemed to understand what was happening and didn’t follow. 

He found it difficult to communicate his feelings at first. His mouth widened and shut, his eyes squinted and then dilated again. He was confused and shocked and excited all at once. 

Finally, he sighed and whispered, “Hey.”

You smiled back. “Hey.” 

He was so giddy, like a kid on Christmas morning. He had half the mind to pick you up and twirl you around – it was such an unfamiliar feeling that he actually got as far as securing his hands on your waist before he realized what he was doing. However, they stayed planted when you wrapped your own around his back. 

“Hey, Yancy,” you muttered. 

He was freaking out. He hadn’t learned what to do in this kind of situation, let alone talking face to face with you! If you could even call what you were doing ‘talking’, it was like you were doing tap dance around acting normally. Did he hate it or love it, he had no clue, but he knew that it was happening. 

And, at that rate, only one thing could stop it. 

Yancy had always been bad with relationships, dating and any kind of personal rapport, so you can only imagine how bad he is with kissing. 

Fireworks overloaded his mind, clearing out fog and replacing it with bright lights and flashing bulbs and his own heartbeat in his ears. Your lips felt exactly how they looked, tasted like the apple you had probably just eaten for dinner. He wondered, briefly, if they had given you utensils this time, but it was overcome by you pushing further into his lips. Your hands darted against his spine, and he squeezed his own out of instinct. 

The air you breathed mingled in one space when you leaned back just an inch. It was far enough that you could speak, but you weren’t given the chance to as Yancy connected your lips once more. After spending practically all of his life without this kind of thing, there was no way in hell that he would let you go so easily. 

“Yancy, chill out,” you chuckled, securing him further away. It wasn’t even a full ten inches, but it worked to get him to pay attention to you.

“Sorry,” he whispered, slowly edging forward, “youse just too sweet.”

Your smile widened. 

“Well, you’re gonna have to wait a bit, you’ve gotta introduce me to your friends, first.”

A determined look fell over Yancy’s face, a curtain drawing to a close the romantic gestures, and bringing you by the hand towards his table. 

Now, looking out over Happy Trails Penitentiary, you were certain that, fuck those suits, you never wanted to be free.