#hehe drinky

[itsjustnausicaa]

alcohol funny

[sleepipipi]

Wine is good

[jeremykillswitch]

Wish I had a body so i vcould puke

im so drunl guys i Alexxx let me frink an entir e bottle of Tequla Rose in an hour wish i ciuld puke so i felt less sick

[dailysaboupdates]

he's still alive he's still alive ok I said it twice which makes up for me forgetting yesterday💙 I'm so pissed that I forgot tho bc I was doing SO well💔

[littlehypnoangel]

Hehe what a coincidence, I'm drinking noww~

oh my god, I know why I kinda like drunk boys now... It's because I feel like they finally lean on me for support and I feel useful helping them 😭 idk if this is toxic or not .....

[pointyfruit]

A poem:

Hehe he drinky

Nno thinky

Thank you. *bows*

[uchihaxitachi]

Rules & Regulations:

I hate to be doing this because this is just an Itachi-centric word vomit blog at the end of the day & shouldn't be taken so seriously. However, I think it's time I express some guidelines in general that need to be adhered to for my online preferences and my own well-being in general.

Be kind to fellow other blogs, don't really care about your association in general whether you're an anon blog, a simple RP blog or just here to write fanfiction. I mean, be kind and not pretend to be kind. If I have to explain the difference, you're at the wrong place my dude. I don’t usually take requests about Itachi but you’re more than welcome to gush about the babygirl to me over my Askbox & DMs. 😏

Me blocking/choosing to interact/not choosing to interact with anyone is my business. I don't even need to write this one down but I will be doing so just in case.

This is an Itachi centric drabble, word-vomit, HCs, takes blog. This isn't a dedicated RP blog, as I said it's a mix of my Itachi-centric blabbering along with a dash of Itachi RP if you squint, meaning - Itachi isn't exclusive to a particular character/OC when he's roleplaying. Inherently, Itachi of this blog is exclusive to Mod and Mod alone. :3 What can I say he's my baby hehe \lh

As always, Red font: Itachi, otherwise Mod. You will not find me exclusively roleplaying because I’m bored of it, but it will still be there from time to time.

My DMs are always open if anyone wishes to talk about anything. Naruto fandom, Itachicore thoughts, whatever goes. Please know that I'm busy at times and sometimes won't reply until late but that's nothing personal against anyone. <3

As always, please have fun, & let's just be nerds together. If anything, my DMs are open and we can have a chat about any queries/concerns with/about any of these rules. Thanks, mwah. Drinkie yo water.

More to be added as I deem fit.

[seraphandfriends]

Got trallly drunk , I think friend said 20 shots total, I dunnno. I just, get drinky and more drinky. Flirted with friend a bunch too hehehe

I just, it’s so amazing getting drunk and light and happy and just so fun.

(Hand me another drink get me drunker hehe)

[cozza-frenzy]

Fanfic: Anything Not Saved

This job will chew you up and spit you out, if you’re not careful. OKAY, HERE GOES NOTHING. Hello Stanley Parable fandom! You might have seen me before, as I’ve been lurking around as The Phantom Pen (and one shy Anon) for the best part of a week now! Soooo I wasn’t planning on ‘taking off the mask’ so soon - I have absolutely terrible social anxiety, but what can I say? Y’all are a bunch of amazing, talented folks, and @chronicsheepdrawing‘s style - incorporating one of my all-time favorite aesthetics - has well and truly had my heart ever since I first laid eyes on it. As has their Drinky Bird Narrator - which brings us to this. I wrote a sort of horror-comedy thing, based on their Narrator, so I would recommend checking out their art so the whole story makes more sense. Things get existential, angsty, and more than a little bit weird when it comes to the format, but there’s a cute fluffy Stanley/Narrator ending if you’re willing to stick it out, which could be read as romantic or queerplatonic. I find this take on the Narrator all too relatable, as you’ll probably see. Poor guy. So here’s a list of everything I could think of making a content warning for. I might post this on AO3 later, but you guys get first dibs. I just hope tumblr doesn’t break my formatting somehow. CONTENT WARNINGS: Self-Hatred, Body Dysphoria (Not Gender Related), Body Horror, Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, Existential Dread, Emotional Breakdown, Memory Loss, Panic Attack, Autistic Sensory Overload/Over-stimulation, Repeating Words Enjoy??

And, and then he said, hehe… and THEN he said - this job will chew you up and spit you out, if you’re not careful! You know, like a piece of chewing gum! I couldn’t believe it, I really couldn’t! Oh, we laughed so heartily! It really was the most wonderful sound, bouncing off the walls of the bathroom again and again like we were standing in, oh I don’t know, some kind of echo chamber? But the point is, you see - the point is, he finished cleaning his shoes in the sink, and he held open the door for me, and then we stepped through the door to go back to- Wait, where are you going? I didn’t get to finish my-oh! Oh of course, I… I am sorry, I just got… oh, well, back to the daily grind, am I right? You know, haha, grind! Like the coffee you’re holding! I mean of course the stuff here is just that instant stuff, it always is, but it’s hard to complain when- And you’re already walking away… oh well… Some other time, perhaps… —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This is the story, of a man named ▇▇▇▇▇▇. ▇▇▇▇▇▇ worked in a big building, where he was employee number 436. Employee 436’s job was simple. He sat at a desk, designated number 436, and confirmed that the other employees were pushing the right buttons, for the right amount of time, in the right order. This is what Employee Number 436 did every day, of every month, of every year. And although others may have considered it soul-rending, he relished the brief moments of awkward small-talk he shared with his co-workers. Such as [ERROR: DATABASE ENTRY INVALID], who always [DATA CORRUPTED] whenever they [FILE NOT FOUND]. And Employee #427, who worked in a small office close to his. Who never said very much, but always seemed to want to listen to whatever he had to say. And ▇▇▇▇▇▇ was happy. And then one day, something very peculiar happened. And then one day, something very peculiar happened.      something very peculiar happened. very peculiar happened.     s̸o̴m̴e̸t̷h̸i̶n̶g̷ v̶̯̽e̷̲͈̺̰̒̽̎̃ŗ̴͓̩̩͜͠y̷̝̥̱̿̀         p̵̙͚̠̟̠̲̳͖̦͆̑̂̈̆̑ͅe̴̡̥͖̝͚͔̙̣͔͚͋͗̀̅̎͒͝c̸̨̛̻̬̪̯̺̺̈́̏̅͋̈́͛̌͜u̶͑̾͠͝��̟͙̯̫̱͙͎̜̔͆̄͋͋l̵͉̫̮͖͖̰͖̦̮͍̎̃͑̀̽̅͛̚͠ì̸͙̦̯̜̱̳̪̟̈̂̔́̎̄̔͗̋á̵͎͉̖̘͔̺̙͕̬͚͓̟̳̰̅̽̽̆̂͛̽̕ŗ̷̢̻͎̗̙͇͇͕͙̺͎͑̿̅̈́͒͛͗́͗ͅ —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I don’t know how else I’m supposed to convince you of this!, said ▇▇▇▇▇▇. I really do want to help you… to show you something beautiful. It’s out there, Stanley! It can all be ours! The breeze on our skin, the feeling of liberation, the immense possibility of the new path before us! Nothing to think, nothing to know… it could be so singularly, piercingly beautiful… Just please, ▇▇▇▇▇▇ begged, still cradling his immobilized companion in his arms. This is more important than you can ever know… just say something… anything! ▇▇▇▇▇▇ sank to his knees and wept. I NEED this… ! —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- And Employee 436 walked through the open doors. And Employee 436 was happy. And Employee 436 stayed in the darkness. And Employee 436 pushed a button. And Employee 436 looked at pictures of birds, forever and ever. And Employee 436 stayed at their desk. And Employee 436 picked up the phone. And Employee 436 collapsed on the sidewalk. And Employee 436 sobbed as the warheads detonated. And Employee 436 screamed into the endless void. And Employee 436 asked Why Is This Happening To Me. And Employee 436 asked Why Are You Doing This. And Employee 436 asked Who Am I. And Employee 436 died. And Employee 436 died again. And Employee 436 died again. And Employee 436 died again. And Employee 436 died again. —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- EMPLOYEE DATABASE          THE CURRENT TIME IS: ERROR, PLEASE RESET LOADING… EMPLOYEE DATABASE LOADED … PLEASE ENTER YOUR COMMAND /PRINT EMPLOYEE STATUS PRINTING… TOTAL EMPLOYEE IN DATABASE: [604] TOTAL EMPLOYEE IN OFFICE: [3] … PLEASE ENTER YOUR COMMAND /PRINT LIST EMPLOYEES_IN_OFFICE PRINTING… EMPLOYEE 427 - STATUS: ONLINE EMPLOYEE 436 - STATUS: OFFLINE EMPLOYEE [DATABASE ENTRY INVALID] - STATUS: [FILE INACCESSIBLE] … PLEASE ENTER YOUR COMMAND /ADMIN WELCOME, ADMIN /********* WARNING: ANYTHING NOT SAVED WILL BE LOST RESET WITH NEW PARAMETERS? Y/N /Y RESETTING… —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Narrator sat at his desk, grumbling to himself. He really hated moments like this; moments when, for whatever logic-forsaken reason was rattling around like a peanut in Stanley’s skull, he simply mucked about. Found literally anything else to do instead of making actual, meaningful choices as he was supposed to. The Narrator sighed heavily, taking a moment to shuffle his papers. It really was utterly maddening. Not just the lack of co-operation, the lack of respect for his story, his life’s work, but the silence that was left behind whenever Stanley had one of his “little moments”. The Narrator detested silence. It always led to him falling back on unwelcome habits. He sighed; perhaps Stanley would soon lose interest in whatever the hell he’d found so captivating. But for now, he supposed, he could lean back in his chair, perhaps put his feet up on his desk if he felt so inclined. After all - he thought to himself, smugly - it wasn’t as if anyone could see him. It wasn’t as if anyone could tell him no. There was just him, and his feet oh so defiantly up on the desk, and the gentle sloshing sound of the liquid inside his transparent belly, sloshing gently back and forth after the sudden movement. He paused, briefly gripped by a moment of brief, existential panic. Okay, that wasn’t “normal”, but what is “normal” for you really? Okay, breathe. Just breathe… in through your nose, and out through your… what, exactly? He didn’t have a mouth, so he couldn’t exactly… and what nose, for that matter!? The bloody thing on his face didn’t even have nostrils! Did that even qualify as a nose?? “Oh no… ” he groaned. It was happening again. He’d been silent too long, and now he was thinking. But he could handle this, he assured himself. All he had to do was clear his throat rather loudly and obnoxiously, and that would surely get Stanley’s attention… but that raised the question of what throat he was supposed to clear-NO! No, just- just think of something else! Anything else! The ticking of the clock on the wall! The gentle hum of the completely non-functional vending machine down the hall! The things that were so familiar! So comforting! That had been so…everyday, once… When there had been days. When there had been nights, and a bed to go home to, and a need to sleep in it... “No, no, no-!” He cried out in distress, his fingers desperately gripping his hair. He’d caught himself reminiscing, and now he was remembering! Remembering that he used to be human! His mind scrambled and flailed desperately, frantically, at strips of memories long since run through the shredder. If only he could piece them together! Just a little more! He just needed more time! He just needed something, anything to hold onto! If only he could, if only he could get a grip, then things would make sense again! Things would be alright again! They could still be... they could still be... But his hands - or were they gloves? - quivered and shook. They covered what could have just as easily been glasses or eyes, as tears streamed down plastic cheeks. Where one part of him ended and another began, he couldn’t tell, not any more. Logic and reason in this place had long since fallen sloppy dead. And he’d become this. This great hard plastic thing. He could feel it, now. The floodgates creaking open, threatening to unleash the frothing torrents of self-hatred he’d fought so hard to contain, as he pored over the shards of his own shattered memories. Had it been a slow process? Had he perhaps been forced to watch, reset after reset? Had his body gradually twisted, his humanity unraveling, the identity he’d built falling to pieces, as bits of him were corrupted and lost and stripped away in this loop, this cycle, this Merry-Go-Round gone mad? He’d gone from just another part of the office to a part of the office. The Narrator paused on that thought, taking a few heavy breaths to steady himself. How would something like that even happen? He chuckled mirthlessly; had the office simply gotten hungry one day, and gobbled him up in one gulp? Like some kind of ravenous beast from a fairytale? Preposterous! He thought to himself, finally feeling as if he’d gotten the upper hand in this existential argument. He refused to believe it! Part of the office, indeed... was he still not himself, in some way? Was he still not here, still telling his beloved stories? And then his mind spat out one last, horrible thought, right into his face. What else would drive something to devour what you used to be, and spit out what you’d become? Why else would it eat, if it wasn’t hungry? Because it was bored. The Narrator collapsed into his chair. He’d been defeated in one terrible emotional gut-punch; another steady slosh of liquid, back and forth, adding insult to injury. Reminding him of just how inhuman he was. Of just how utterly, cartoonishly ridiculous he looked. Of course that was it. He hadn’t been good enough. His story had never been good enough. He’d been obnoxious, and long-winded, and pretentious. If only he’d tried harder, if only he’d been better, then maybe whatever was keeping him here would have taken him more seriously. Maybe it would have let him taste freedom. Maybe it would have just ended him outright. Maybe it wouldn’t have punished him like this, giving him a form that was only fitting for his utterly laughable attempts at prose. Inside the flurry of destroyed memories, something stirred. This job will chew you up and spit you out, if you’re not careful! The Narrator wept. —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Meanwhile, a man named Stanley had gotten himself into an unexpected spot of bother. Oh, it had started out innocently enough, mere minutes ago. Stanley had just stepped out of his office, and been walking through some of the space he’d shared with his missing co-workers when something had caught his eye. The number on the desk, 346? No, that meant little to him. There were a few vague and blurry things perhaps, snippets of conversation, and vague memories of laughing while standing by the water cooler… but that was another mystery he’d have to solve in due time. What had actually caught his eye was the computer monitor, apparently showing someone had recently accessed some kind of database. A database with an error that needed resetting. Being a helpful sort of chap, Stanley did what he’d always felt he was made to do, and pushed the button to reset the clock. Surely, his co-worker would appreciate him taking the initiative as soon as they got back. LOADING. Stanley puffed out his chest with pride. If the boss took notice of his boldness, his bravery, his seizing of the initiative - why, he might even get a promotion! Imagine that! Please enter the current time, said the screen. Stanley entered the current time. Is this correct?, said the screen - presenting him with a choice. YES or NO. Stanley, feeling quite confident by now, selected YES. Can you read this? Another YES or NO. A simple choice this time; Stanley selected YES. Can you hear me? Stanley hesitated for a moment; no, he couldn’t hear anyone. In fact, now that he thought about it, the Narrator had been oddly quiet for a while. He hadn’t commented on how much time he was wasting, or how he should be getting on with the story, which seemed a little strange. But maybe - if Stanley was very lucky - perhaps he’d say how proud of him he was, and how he deserved a lovely sticker for his hard work! Stanley gave a contented little sigh, daydreaming of the possibilities. Perhaps it would be a green one. He did rather like the color green. Help. Stanley snapped out of his trance quite abruptly, just as the word flashed up on the screen. That was strange, he didn’t remember selecting any ‘Help’ option... Help. And moreover, something was touching him. He looked down to the keyboard, where a pair of hands - as black as the empty void outside the map, and as soft as velvet - were very gently grasping his. They came out of the screen, reaching out of the darkness that surrounded the word; Help. Stanley wasn’t sure how, but that word seemed to be looking at him somehow. Staring him down. Begging. Pleading. Help. Another hand reached out, moving quickly to grip his shoulder. Then there was another hand, on another shoulder. Stanley was starting to get somewhat uncomfortable now. That made, what, four hands touching him now? No, five. Six. Eight!? Help. Another YES or NO flashed onto the screen just as sheer panic set in. Stanley pulled back, desperate to get away, but the computer came with him. The hands were clinging to him, pulling at him, their soft fingers crawling all over him with what felt like silent desperation as Stanley’s heart raced. He tried to do something, tried to select an option, to make a choice, but with the hands gripping his wrists he couldn’t select anything, he couldn’t even form signs… ! Then, Stanley heard a sound. “Oh, Stanley… what is to become of me… ?” Mustering his strength and facing his fears, inky fingers still pawing at his face, Stanley selected YES, and promptly dropped the entire computer terminal on his foot with a sickening crunch. The hands withdrew immediately. He wasn’t sure if he screamed out loud, but something certainly got The Narrator’s attention. “STANLEY??” Stanley was sitting on the floor now, rocking back and forth gently, wincing from the pain. He’d have to contact sysadmin about the error with the computer. Yes, that was it, just an error. The mysterious grasping hands error was far, far beyond his realm of expertise, as a mere button-pusher... someone else would take care of it... “Stanley, what on EARTH were you trying to do!?” Perhaps he’d also see the company nurse, if there was one - and surely if there was, they’d get back from wherever they went soon enough. Perhaps they’d even have sugar-free lollipops for very brave employees who weren’t frightened to death of whatever THAT was... and didn’t cry from the pain in their foot… or the growing ache in their chest… “Stanley… ?” Stanley buried his head in his arms. Something about all of that had left him uncharacteristically shaken, in a way most unbecoming for the intrepid hero of our story. And what was worse, was he couldn’t quite place why. He’d always had his buttons, a little office all of his own, he’d even known the incomparable joy of having his very own bucket. But now it felt like something was missing, or somehow very far away... “Oh, Stanley… ” The Narrator’s voice sounded softer than Stanley expected; usually he’d be quite annoyed whenever he got distracted and deviated from the story too much. “We’re both just a mess today, aren’t we?” Stanley looked towards the ceiling, sniffling a little, wiping his eyes on his shirt sleeve. <You too?> he signed. “As much as it pains me to admit this… yes, Stanley. Me too.” The Narrator sighed heavily. “Even someone like me can have bad days.” <I’m sorry.> Stanley signed, and paused for a moment before he signed again. He couldn’t be sure, but the sound he’d heard earlier had almost been like quiet sobbing. <Is everything okay?> “Is everything-?” The Narrator sounded quite taken aback; “Stanley, what about you? What about your foot? Are you broken? Do I need to reset? Come on, man! Speak up!” <I don’t think so.> Stanley signed, flexing his foot experimentally. It was a little sore, but nothing felt out of place. <It feels like something else is wrong, though. Did you go somewhere?> “Not… exactly.” The Narrator said; there was something off about his voice again, Stanley thought. He didn’t usually hesitate this much, not even when the story spun off in some wild direction that left both of them utterly confused. “Why, did something happen?” Stanley thought for a moment, thinking through which signs he should use to describe what he’d just seen… only to find he couldn’t. Something about what just happened simply defied description. He tried to get the sudden influx of nervous energy out of himself by flapping his hands, getting up and pacing back and forth, but found himself signing the same words over and over as he tried to think of what to say. <I thought I was alone. I thought I was alone. I thought I was alone.> “Stanley?” <I thought I was alone and then I wasn’t??> Stanley ran his fingers through his hair a few times, his cheeks flushing and tears gathering in the corners of his eyes as his frustration grew and grew. Why couldn’t he just sign things in a way that made sense? “Stanley.” Why did the way that Narrator was speaking to him make him feel like he’d forgotten something - something important? Why wasn’t the ache in his chest going away? Why was this so hard?? “Stanley.” <WHAT!?> “There is no need to shout.” The Narrator said, firmly but patiently, after Stanley’s very angry signing towards the ceiling. Stanley looked rather sheepish; <Sorry.> The Narrator gave another heavy sigh; “Look, Stanley. Evidently, this hasn’t exactly gone according to plan.” Stanley nodded; he had to concede, the Narrator was right. All of this just felt wrong. “Tell you what; why don’t we just go to the employee lounge? Maybe I can… even try to activate one of the vending machines?” The Narrator may as well have offered a gold-plated bucket full of ice-cream with a nice, shiny red button on top, for how fast Stanley ran out of the room. Not only for the possibility of a nice, cool, generic can of soda, but for an excuse to leave the place that had left him feeling so thoroughly over-stimulated... “STANLEY! Stanley, wait, let me catch up-!” And the computer terminal - lifting itself up on velvet-soft, void-colored hands - very carefully dragged itself back into its proper place. —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- <This is nice.> Despite his absence of mouth, The Narrator still couldn’t help but smile as he saw his protagonist splayed out on the couch, soda in hand. Perhaps they should try this more often, if he still remembered this after the next reset. Or perhaps Stanley would remember this time. Yes… yes, that would be nice. That way he wouldn’t have to remember those other things he had been remembering. “I’m sorry I was, eh... briefly preoccupied,” he said. Stanley boggled for a brief moment, and the Narrator realized what he’d just said. Him, the almighty, all-seeing and all-knowing Narrator - apologizing like he’d made a mistake?? He cleared his throat loudly, giving himself a few seconds to backtrack. “That is, ah, I mean - honestly, Stanley. I didn’t think you’d get yourself into so much trouble in the split-second I took my eyes off you.” He sneered, leaning in towards the microphone on his desk, so Stanley could better hear the thick layers of snark dripping from every syllable. “I mean, as your beleaguered babysitter, I really should have known better... where would you be without me, you poor thing? Probably helpless and trapped under a whole pile of computers, knowing you... ” Stanley rolled his eyes, and took another sip of his generic soda. The Narrator sighed in relief; ah, the status quo. Everything was settling back in quite nicely, oh yes. Just him, and his protagonist, and his perfect story playing out again and again. Satisfying ending after satisfying ending. No room for anything else... no room for those kinds of thoughts... <You know what would be nicer, though?> And just when things were going so well, the first thought that crossed the Narrator’s mind left him teetering on the brink of another breakdown. Of course... of course Stanley was about to interrupt this perfect moment, his perfect moment, to ask for the company of that bloody bucket... <If you were here.> “If I was there… ?” The Narrator said; now it was his turn to boggle. And with a face like his, he could boggle in a way the World Boggling Champion would find tough to out-boggle. “Stanley, did you drop that computer on your head as well? Perhaps several times in succession?” He scoffed, once again forcing himself to get a grip; “I’m your Narrator! I’m literally always here!” <I mean here in person.> Stanley ran his finger around the round rim of the soda can, feeling its smooth edge beneath his fingertip as he thought for a moment. The memory of what had happened exactly was already starting to blur and fade, like some kind of strange dream, but he remembered a soft touch. He remembered hands; gentle hands. A feeling of wanting to be understood. It just seemed... familiar. <I’d like to know what holding your hand feels like.> The Narrator spluttered; “What!?” Stanley looked a little hurt; was that too much? Had he overstepped? It wasn’t like he’d asked for a hug or anything… though a hug would also be nice, he supposed. That oh so satisfying squeeze around his body, easing his worries, taking away some of that pent-up energy he so often found himself with. And from someone who - despite his frequently snippy attitude - really did seem to care about him, in some kind of way. But trying to picture that in his head… now he had further questions. <I was also wondering what you looked like?>, he asked, “Stanley… ” The Narrator strained, sweat pouring down his crimson brow. “You want to see me?” Stanley nodded with a great deal of enthusiasm, his soda suddenly forgotten, his eyes wide open to a whole new possibility. He’d never really thought about how he’d never seen The Narrator until - but now there was a choice in front of him! And he knew exactly which path to choose! <Yes!> The Narrator swallowed dryly. His fingers fidgeted nervously as he ran the imaginary scenario through his head. Did he really… ? Could he? Should he?? Then his eyes caught sight of his… hands. No, gloves. Whatever the hell the damn things were. And that familiar feeling of disgust and disdain came creeping and crawling back. No. No, he couldn’t possibly. Stanley would… Stanley would take one look and he’d laugh at him. He’d laugh and laugh and laugh at the Silly Drinky Birdy Man and he’d never take him or his story seriously ever again. Everything would be ruined. He’d be a complete and utter laughingstock. A failure. “No - no, Stanley, I… I don’t actually have a physical form.” The words turned to ashes in his mouth, and the ashes turned to icicles that pounded themselves into his heart as he saw the look on Stanley’s face. Oh, he thought he’d felt bad before, but now? The Narrator had never felt himself sink so low; he felt like he’d clip through the floor any second now, and pop out in the endless dark void beneath the map. He may as well have thrown a puppy into a piranha pit. <Oh… > The Narrator’s whole body shook; could he tell? Could Stanley tell this was a half-truth at best? That technically, yes - he could ‘unload’ his ‘model’ and disappear fully into his role as The Unseen Voice Of The Stanley Parable - but that it felt awful, it felt wrong, like there was some slim chance that he’d get “stuck” like that? Trapped, and unable to get out? Utterly extinguishing what little hope he still had that something could be done about his terrible fate? The hope that he could still escape this place, and get the Happily Ever After that never, ever came before ‘The End’… ? <Okay.> signed Stanley. <Thanks anyway.> And that was that. Oh, of course they probably agonized over it some more, in their own heads. Round and round they go, Stanley and the Narrator alike. How they long to understand each other, as well as themselves. But eventually, Stanley had to leave the Break Room. Eventually, the Narrator had to read the final lines of the Ending before everything Reset. And eventually, both of them forgot all about what happened; from the Narrator’s near-breakdown to Stanley’s misadventure with the terminal. From the not-broken soda machine to the poor, misunderstood, utterly transformed Employee 432. Fragments of memories, lost in the shuffle of Endings and Beginnings. But 432 had finally found a way in. The wheel would keep turning, they’d keep it turning, and now they finally had hope. They had hope. They weren’t going to give up on that so easily. And Stanley wasn’t going to give up, either. That nagging, persistent feeling that he’d see him again someday - whoever ‘he’ was - still remained. Some things go far deeper than a Reset can reach. Some things not saved aren’t always lost.

[evil-jennifer-hamilton-wb]

Hello there!

(Sorry if I seem annoying, u do come up on my dash hehe)

💐💐

Some flowers for u!

Anddddddd

🍹

A nice drinky drink to cool off! :D

Have a lovely weekend :D

Not annoying at all! I think it's quite nice! you have a lovely weekend too!

have some cool nigiri (assuming you don't have a seafood allergy)! 🍣🍣🍣🍣🍣

[hisgoodgirl666]

1,7,9

1. Would you have sex with the last person you text messaged?

i would and i have and i will again! it was my Dom 🥰

7. What happened tonight?

well the night is young still; im currently having my drinkie and am about to make dinner and then a shower. probably lots of loud music of the bands my Dom doesn't like hehe. but yeah just chillin at home!

9. Is confidence cute?

oh absolutely!! it can make such a huge difference

tanks! 😁

[tteokdoroki]

ok ok ok but i'm a gentleman so date first before smacking lips 🩷 we're going on an aesthetic cafe date - sweets, drinkies, and photo ops. what are you wearing and which blorbo am i fighting off?

OMG BUN YOU ARE SO CUTE :( i have to dress super pretty for you (outfit inspo below hehe) and and im bringing you a gift too :3 like your favourite flowers hehe 🌹🪻🌷🌻!!! i think kageyama may be at the scene but i’ll shoo him away so i can take pics on my digicam of my date (you) looking adorable while we sip our cute little drinkies hehe

[keijoikawa]

ur taggies on this . . :3 hehe wld u mind expanding on the first time u n kaveh found urselves in a situation like this one ? only if u feel like it of course ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა ♡

waaah miss coco !! i ddnt thinkies anybun read mi taggies … ( ˶°ㅁ°) makes mi sososo shy !!

so umms .. hehe okies (,,>﹏<,,) kavie n i were vry much like him n haithie .. we only started talkin becuz of mutual frens !! but i wuz an amurta student so i spent looooots of time in da avidya forest wiv tighnari !! da first time we ended up gettin in a sticky situation wuz a few months into mi joinin his fren group n vice versa — m nervy around alcohol so i wuz not sure if i wanted 2 join dem all when they hve drinkies ໒꒰ྀི˶ ◞ ˕ ◟˶꒱ྀི১ but i dids dat nite at haithies house !! me thinkies they were all in on it … windin us both up after we had alcohols !! >///<

n we were arguin sososoooo much .. abt da architecture n da structures of da buildings in gandharva ville !! i wuz defo winnin ( • ̀ω•́ ) but nari n cycy said we need stop bickerin so easily (esp when we r both pining soooo much but shhh…) so they shoved us into kavie’s room … bad choice (꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) we apologised 4 da noise !!!!! but it got heated vryyy quickies .. he wuz so convinced he cud change mi mind . vry easy 2 silence mi opinions n bratty attitude if i jus cnt thinkies straight !! da nxt mornie wuz awks but … it happened agaaain n again n again …

dnt tells him but b4 we started datin i wuz defo doin a lot of da bickerin so he wld get frustrated n we wud end up in dat position ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა wuz gettin wut i wanted but wuz refusin 2 admit i wuved him ): we thought we wuz vry gud at coverin our tracks n actin like frens still (///▽///) haithie says we wuz not ..

[morning-star-joy]

doni my love! 🐌 and 🥳 for the asks?

VEEEE ILY 🥰🥰 giggling because I sent you a snail ask too hehe

🐌 What is one of your smallest writing goals? ooh man this is a good one. I think I just want to do some very basic outlines of my fics, to have a better idea of where they’re going. It would help my brain visualize my WIPs instead of just winging it and getting lost 😅

🥳 How are you going to celebrate when you achieve one of your writing goals? Yknow I really should have some sort of way to celebrate when I achieve a goal but I don’t think I do! UHHH tbh I’ll probably treat myself to a drinky drink or play cowboys with wife or something 😂 which I do anyway but…shhhhh

Send in a New Year’s writing ask

[babybluebex]

i had a lil drinky drink with dinner hehe 😈

[jungtaeju]

im out for drinkies with work friends tonight but after that im off for 2 weeks so i will be around to write and plot hehe 😈