The_Encryptid
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Confused, Roman tries to blink the haze from his eyes. The desk is still against his face, paper and pens and varnished mahogany. Light shines down from the lamp overhead and beyond that from his window, a muted glow drifting through half-drawn curtains.
He’s in his room.
Something about it feels…off, somehow. Like he’s in the wrong place, like he’s in the wrong time, like he isn’t…
He isn’t completely sure.
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Ghostlight by The_Encryptid
Fandoms: Project Hail Mary (2026), Project Hail Mary - Andy Weir, Andy Weir's Project Hail Mary - All Media Types, Iron Lung (2026), Iron Lung (Video Game), David Szymanski's Iron Lung - All Media Types
11 Aug 2026
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“It must’ve let off an enormous amount of heat, hence the IR flare,” Grace processed aloud, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “The Petrovascope’s catching the…the orphaned IR signal radiating out through space, getting bounced back to us against debris like space dust.”
Rocky hummed. “Understand. What source then, question?”
“That’s…what I’m not sure about.” Grace adjusted the dial on the camera, leaning in. “It isn’t the Petrova frequency wavelength. But the fact that its IR signal is this strong—its energy output must’ve been unbelievable. Like, astrophage-level unbelievable. I’m guessing quadrillions of Joules…and it only lasted a second—”
Grace shook his head, pulling away from the Petrovascope. “I…I have no idea.”
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My take on how BloodyMary could be a thing. :)
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Blood and Brine | Fox in a Snare by The_Encryptid
Fandoms: Project Hail Mary (2026), Project Hail Mary - Andy Weir, Andy Weir's Project Hail Mary - All Media Types
11 Aug 2026
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Awareness drifts back to him in fragments. One of the first things he identifies is that he hurts—his arms and legs ache something fierce, his brain throbbing in his skull. His whole body is sore, as though he’d just finished running a marathon. Which…which he wouldn’t know, actually. He’s only ever managed a 5k at best—there’d been a walkathon fundraiser at Grover Cleveland Middle, years ago. He’s not much of a runner, more of a biker, and not by choice.
His eyes flutter open, then, almost of their own accord. Everything’s blurry and far-away, as though he’s squinting through a tunnel to see it. His glasses are gone. He’s horizontal, sprawled out with his legs twisted awkwardly underneath him, lying on what feels like the floor. It’s cold and hard and presses uncomfortably against the side of his face. Something lukewarm and wet has pooled against his cheek, gathered around the corner of his mouth.
What…?
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Emergency Contact by The_Encryptid
Fandoms: Animator vs. Animation (Short Films - Becker)
09 Aug 2026
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They were walking through the cherry fields when Purple’s phone pinged, and pinged again when he was pulling it out of his pocket. His eager words tapered off, and his light expression hardened with focus at the screen. King turned his gaze away in respectful nonchalance, electing to give the kid his privacy. The youth and their phones—there was no use in fighting it.
“Dad,” Purple said, and the tremor in his voice made King’s stomach drop. His eyes jerked back to the kid, meeting his the second he lifted them from his phone. His face was tight with urgency. “We need to get to the gang’s.”
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Of Quills and Comfort by The_Encryptid
Fandoms: Animator vs. Animation (Short Films - Becker)
29 Jul 2026
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“Breathe, come on, deep breaths,” The Dark Lord hissed, voice low with concentration, barely audible over the sound of The Chosen One’s ragged gasping. He gripped the gauze in his teeth, braced his hand against The Chosen One’s chest, and tore the jagged barb from his stomach in a swift, single motion.