#since I'm using a pen name I'll post it here.

[yyoon5]

officially getting published in late november...

[sportsthoughts]

.

[darkbluekies]

Following my last post, i just want to show the girl i am proud to call my main character. She has been an inspiration to me ever since I created her and I have made her into someone i wish I was.

This is by far the most i have very showed you from one of my private stories. Especially a main story. Kind of scary, but I want to show, to see if it could be something I could salvage and bring back to it's original glory. I want to see if you see what I see, that maybe not all of the magic is lost.

There are trigger warnings for this — death, guns, losing one's sanity, trauma mention of child abuse,

“Doctor, can I ask you something?” she wondered quietly.

“What?” he asked, lifting his green eyes from his desk.

"What should I do if I can't ... think?"

Doctor W furrowed his brows so that a frown formed between them.

“What do you mean?” he asked, dropping his pen. He clasped his hands together.

OL touched her lips hesitantly with her tongue.

"I don't know what to do," she admitted softly, noticing how her voice was shaking. “Every single one of my thoughts is — I don't know — blurry? I feel so lost. I don't know how to take care of myself when I barely know how to take care of my sisters. People around me see me in a way that I can't see myself, and I don't know how to become that person. I don't even know if I want to be it. It feels so strange inside me, I don't know how to explain it... it's like one big darkness. There is no one I can talk to who can help me sort out the mush in my head, but I can't sort it out myself. I don't know how to do it. I know nothing.”

“I know exactly how you feel.” He pointed to the bookshelf behind him with his thumb. “See the black book spines? They are diaries. In them, I have recorded every single thought I have had. When they are on paper, it is easier to study them objectively. Everything is there, black and white, collected.”

OL looked at the dozens of black book spines.

“Maybe you should try it?” he asked, standing up from his chair. He opened one of the desk drawers and held out a black notebook. “Do you want it? You can have it.”

OL stared blankly at the book for a few seconds before nodding and accepting it.

“Thank you very much,” she said. “For everything."

"It's no trouble at all," Dr. W smiled.

BR closed the book and furrowed her gray brows. "AN told me about Mr. D."

OL nodded sadly. “I understood that. You don't have to worry. I will not let anything hinder GS's healing.”

BR caught something vulnerable in her eyes. “OL, stop that. I'm worried about you, don't you understand?”

“There is no need—”

“No need? OL, you're only eighteen. I understand that you may feel older, but you are only eighteen.”

OL bit down. She didn't know how old she felt, but eighteen seemed far too young.

"I really care about both you and GS," BR continued softly, but there was something serious under her tone. “It's my responsibility to make sure you're both safe. If Mr. D wants you so badly, I have to do something about it.”

"What were you thinking that we are going to do?" OL asked stressed. “If Mr. D escaped punishment for [SHIP'S NAME], I doubt he will be punished for child abuse or threatening to kill me — or even my death. He already tried before. Several times.” She felt in her pockets. “He doesn't know we're here. We just need to get to England, and everything will be solved.”

“Then what?”

“I don't know, but I'll figure it out. I don't know if I want to go to the police, BR. Then GS and I will have to see him again. The closer we are, the easier it is for him to kill us. We're going to have to drag TN into everything again...and I don't know if I can handle it.”

BR sighed. “We refrain, for now, then.”

"Thanks."

OL fished out the shiny revolver from the deep pocket of her skirt. BR's bright eyes widened and followed the weapon as if it were a ticking time bomb.

"I'm going to settle it the way Mr. D wants to settle things," OL said slowly.

OL's shaking hand reached for a brown ear in the bag and gently pulled out the teddy bear's head. She held her breath. Two gouged holes where the eyes should be stared through her. Painfully, she looked away and reached uncertainly for the next part. One by one, she pulled the limbs out until they were in a fluffy pile on the carpet. She tried to press the loose parts together, as if they were to be put together of their own free will, but without needle and thread, they remained as loose as before. OL raised her trembling right hand, pressing it tightly over her mouth to keep from screaming. Her eyes filled with tears, her heart pounded in her ears.

“Miss, I have been calling you—”

Her heart stopped. She hadn't noticed that the sounds from the kitchen had died down. Hastily, she wiped her tears and turned her head away.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded tightly and pulled her arms closer to her shaking body. She hoped he wouldn't come any closer, didn't want him to see.

“What are you doing?” he asked cautiously.

She could hear him moving closer. Something cold pulled through her.

“What is that?”

OL shook her head in despair as she tried to hide the teddy bear under her shaking hands. Hot tears streamed down her red, burning cheeks. Her mouth babbled out unclear sentences that she herself could not understand. Mr. C's rough hands shot out over hers and took a soft grip on her shaking, took a firm grip.

“Do you want to fix it?” he asked.

OL nodded desperately, meeting his calm eyes through her blurred gaze. She tried to open her mouth to apologize, but the words were stuck in her throat.

"Go eat," said Mr. C kindly, taking the teddy bear from her shaking hands. “I'll salvage this.”

He helped her to her feet and escorted her out to the kitchen. OL sank down at the dining room table and listened as Mr. c headed back to the girls' room. She hid her face in her hands, tore at her hair, and growled in frustration. The anger subsided after a couple of minutes, and she sat still, staring blankly in front of her in biting silence.

I really do love this character. She is my favorite i have ever created. I really want this to work. You can see the vision i have right? Why I'm so persistent in making this story work?

[loupy-mongoose]

Warning: This part contains discussion of Pokemon abuse and neglect, as well as the general topic of death.

Edit: I didn't realize when I posted that this part is kinda long, so I'mma slap a Read More on it.

PREVIOUS NEXT

ARC START | CHRONO

Lavender stared in shock at the man who'd approached her.

It was him.

The man she'd seen in the articles online.

The man she'd seen in Nico's dream vision.

Fuji...

The man tilted his head a bit. Ah, so you've heard of me. I'm guessing you've read about the orphanage online?

I, uh...

Lav had no idea how she would begin speaking to him, let alone broach the subject that drove her to this moment.

I... I...

She hugged herself, shivering. Her mind and emotions were spent.

Fuji's concerned look grew deeper. Easy, there. Easy. What's troubling you? Maybe we can work it out.

She could feel his genuine concern for her wash off of him, and her own loneliness and regret crashed over her. She asked him in a timid, shaky voice, can I have a hug?

His eyebrow rose, but he smiled warmly at her. Of course! If it'll help!

She charged into his arms almost before he could open them wide enough. Oh how she missed this feeling of being safe in a pair of arms...

So what's got you so upset? Or is it something too personal to tell a stranger like myself?

Uh...

His voice lowered to just above a whisper. Your family isn't mistreating you, are they? I can help get you out if they are.

At that Lav pushed away from him, waving her arms. No no no no, nothing like that! I-I'm sad because I left them... And I wish I hadn't... I came here looking for someone, but... She wiped her eyes for the hundredth time since she'd taken off. It was a rash decision and I wish I could go back...

I can help with that too. Fuji smiled again. Where do they live? I'll do what I can to get you back to them!

Lav gripped at her elbows, biting her lower lip. Should I tell him? How much would it give away...?

How much will I need to give away...?

She took a quiet breath and answered. Paldea.

Paldea... He became thoughtful. That's a long ways away from here... You came here on your own?

Lav nodded, rocking slightly back and forth. All the warnings she'd heard from her parents flashed through her mind, almost making her feel sick again.

Finally she gripped her jacket sleeves and took a deep breath. Listen, Mr. Fuji, there's something I wanted to talk to you about. But... not in the open.

The gentle man lowered his brows questioningly.

I-I know that sounds weird... But... C-can we go to your house? And talk in private?

Fuji's face creased in confusion, but he shrugged. Alright. I'm all ears. Maybe I can offer you a drink to calm your nerves? Coffee, tea, hot coco?

Lav smiled widely at the sound of that. Ooo, yes please! Hot chocolate! Please!

Fuji chuckled as he turned to go and motioned for her to follow. A sweet tooth, huh? No problem!

Hey, I never got your name.

She gave a shy laugh, well recognizing how this might sound to him. It's, uh... Lavender, actually. Lavender Linden.

Hah!! Oh dear, it might be a little hard for my old brain to remember that one. His voice oozed with joyful sarcasm, and Lav felt herself warming up to him.

You can call me Lav if it's too much for you~

Lav. That sounds lovely. He chuckled softly. It's nice to meet you, Lav.

Lav smiled, finally feeling a sense of comfort for the first time since leaving home.

It's nice to meet you too, Mr. Fuji.

The pink Mew carefully peered down into the cliffs surrounding the purple-hued town. It was too far away to make out distinct people. But where his eyes failed him, his senses gave him hope.

I feel her.

He looked at Akoya. They're eyes passed the message without use of words or mind. They flew down to discuss with Persim what the next step would be.

Oooooh, look at themmm!!

Lav looked into a pen containing several little land-dwelling Pokemon. Ratattas, Growlithes, Nidorans, and Mankeys, and others mingled together. Some were missing eyes and limbs.

So you take in orphaned Pokemon and take care of them?

Fuji smiled softly, but with a sad gleam in his eyes. Orphans, injured, sick... Trainers will often bring in Pokemon, either their own or ones that they've found in their travels. It's sad when they're mistreated, but I like to think we offer a little bit of hope and comfort for those in need.

Lav watched a few Ratattas running together, including a dark colored one that had a set of wheels attached to its back legs. She pointed to it. What happened to the Alolan one there?

A Karate Chop went too far. HP shields will only protect so much. Fuji sighed. Her trainer pushed her to fight beyond her limits--against a Machop, no less--and she paid the price. And of course her trainer left her for dead because she couldn't fight anymore.

A lot of the Pokemon in our care have similar stories. I swear, trainers who don't bother learning type matchups drive me up a wall! Just because they're protected from elemental attacks doesn't mean the protection lasts or is perfect every time! And when the shields fail, it can fail spectacularly.

Lav thought about her dad's journey as a trainer through Sinnoh, as well as her own dream of doing her own journey. She had to venture a question. D... Do you feel that way about all trainers?

Absolutely not. There are plenty of good trainers out there, and I adore them. I want to support those ones however I can! And of course trainers will make mistakes. Sometimes mistakes that will cost a life, unfortunately... As long as there are Pokemon trainers, that will continue to happen. But that alone doesn't make one a bad trainer.

And the sad thing is, it's those trainers who suffer most from their mistakes. The ones who throw away the dead or injured, they move on to the next victim with nary a backward glance. But when a loving trainer loses...

He sighed again, leaning on the fence. It's heartbreaking, really. All the trainers who feel like they failed because of their losses, when in reality those are the best of the best. They don't realize that in taking a path of love, they've taken the hard path. Grief is the price we pay for love, after all, and sometimes in can bankrupt trainers...

Suddenly he leaned back. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to get sad on you! I see both ends of it, so I have trouble keeping them apart sometimes. I hope you can forgive my morbid rambling...

Of course. Lav smiled morosely. ...I can tell you pay that price a lot...

Fuji met her eyes with warmth. Yeah... Yeah. It's not always an easy job... But it is my greatest love. And grief is a price I'm willing to pay for it.

PREVIOUS NEXT

ARC START | CHRONO

This makes me want to do a Nuzlocke. XD

[introvertedelf]

The Daughter of Iron-Tony Stark x Daughter!reader Story

This story is on my Wattpad (IntrovertedElf) but I’m posting here too!

Tony Stark-Genius, Billionare, Playboy, Philanthropist.

But about the 'playboy' part-Tony had a one night stand 20 years ago. Ok, he had a lot of one night stands 20 years ago. But one of them resulted in a daughter. And he never knew about her, until now.

TW: This story contains heavy and mature themes such as: sexual content, rape, torture, parental death (the OC's mom), and probably more. But it WILL have a happy ending.

Chapter 1

It was your second year of Uni. You were the bright age of 20, felt like you had the world in your hands.

You were studying science—chemistry to be specific. You always loved the subject, so you figured that would be a good way to go.

You were brilliant, truly. Your mom used to tell you that all the time, but you would always just shake your head. Since your mom died from cancer, nothing was the same. Everything reminded you of her. It had only been a year. It took everything in you to even be able to muster up the strength to enroll in a university.

You sat down in class, looking beside you at your best friend: Peter Parker. He was all you had left. Your dad who you never even met before apparently didn't give a shit about you, and you never had any other lasting friends besides Peter. You didn't even know your father's name. Your mom had just said it was a mistake, though she was grateful to have you.

He nudged your shoulder, and you came back to Earth.

"Y/N, you good? You're doing that zoning out thing again," he said, chuckling at you.

"Yeah, I'm good," you lied. Peter never bought your lies, and he quirked a brow at you. "Ok ok, I just have a lot on my mind, I guess," you shrugged.

He let out a sigh. "Y/N, you need to get out more. When you're not in class you're just cooped up in the dorm. I'm worried about you..." he said with concern knitted in his brow. You hated that look of pity. But Peter understood what it was like to lose your parents. To grow up without them. But at least he had aunt May still.

"Pete, I'm—" you were about to say you're 'good' again, but you caught yourself. "Fine. What do you want from me?"

He grinned at you mischievously. "Since I just started the internship at the Avengers tower, you should come. I can totally get you in."

You didn't know about him being spider man yet. So the internship seemed purely academic to you. "What? Peter, I can't ask that of you...besides. I doubt Stark wants his annoying little intern's best friend around to annoy him too," you huffed.

"Y/N, pleaseeeee, just come with me tonight. Mr. Stark won't mind. Plus, he has Dr. Banner there now, and he could use a hand. One of his specialties is chemistry, too." When you didn't reply, he started begging again. "Pleaseeee—"

"Okay! Fine. I'll go with you. But you have to call Mr. Stark beforehand so it's not awkward. I don't want to just show up uninvited..."

He smirked at you. "Deal."

***

You paced around your dorm room, waiting for Peter to get off the phone with Mr. Stark.

"Thank you Mr. Stark! Trust me, she's brilliant, you won't regret—ok, sorry, see you soon!" He hung up, looking at me excitedly. "Guess what??"

You perked up, though you had a lump in your stomach. What if you weren't good enough? What if he told Peter not to bring you back?

"He said you can come! He said Bruce is working on some chemistry shit and needs help. We have to leave soon, you ready?"

I nodded, getting my crossbody bag and stuffing an extra notebook and pens in there just in case.

We got on the bus, arriving at the tower soon. "Oh and I forgot, you'll get to meet the Avengers", Peter said excitedly. Your jaw dropped. You never thought—omg. Peter knew how much of a crush you had on several of them. Specifically Bucky and Cap. "Try not to drool everywhere, m'kay?" Peter teased you.

You elbowed him in the ribs. "Shut up. I swear if you say anything!"

You got off the bus, heading into the tower. You followed Pete as he ushered you into the elevator, when an arm stopped it from closing and came in with you. A rather large arm, you should say.

Before your eyes was Steve Rogers. You felt your body tense up, looking at the behemoth of a man before you.

"Hey Peter," he said, patting him on the shoulder as he looked at you.

"Oh Cap this is Y/N, she's going to be interning with me for Dr. Banner," he smiled.

Steve looked down at you, and you felt very short. "Hi Y/N, Pete here talks about you all the time, nice to put a face to the name," he said, looking you up and down with a wide smile. He put his hand out, and you shook it, squeezing it like you were taught. Firm handshakes said a lot about a person. "Quite the grip you've got there, gorgeous," he said with a wink, disappearing out of the elevator as you got to the floor.

You stood there practically hyperventilating as Peter laughed at you silently. "Somebody has a crusshhhh, somebody has a—ow!" You flicked him in the nose. "Come on, the lab is this way."

You followed him, still thinking about the fact that Steve Rogers called you gorgeous. When you got to the lab, you practically melted. It was *huge*, and everything was up to date and sparkling.

You saw Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner in a corner talking, and you and Peter approached them.

"Mr. Stark, Dr. Banner," Peter started. "This is Y/N."

They both turned to look at you. Bruce smiled and shook your hand, while Tony just stared at you. Finally he put his hand out for you to shake.

"Y/N. Peter never shuts up about you. I hope you're all he led you on to be. You'll be with Bruce today working on some chemical equations," he said, his eyes strangely familiar to you. You couldn't explain it. I mean, you saw him on TV a lot, maybe that was it.

You swallowed. "Thank you so much for this opportunity, it means more to me than you know," you said.

Tony nodded at you, leading Peter off somewhere and leaving you with Bruce.

"Alright miss Y/N, I've got some equations here that need solving. Let's see what you can do," he smiled softly.

You took out your pen and solved them in no time, and apparently way faster than Bruce would have thought because he seemed shocked when you told him you were done.

He looked the paper over, checking it. "Alright then. That was clearly way too easy for you. Looks like we've got a new intern," he smiled, shaking your hand again.

The rest of that day you didn't see Tony or Peter again, and you helped Bruce with whatever he needed. When the sun set, Bruce said he was ready to call it for the day. He led you out to the common area, and you sat on the couch until you fell asleep.

Finally, Peter walked in with Stark, and chuckled. "Looks like Dr. Banner tired her out," Peter said, his arms crossed.

"Looks like it. I want both of you here every day after school, deal?" Tony said, patting Peter on the back.

"Deal," he tried to contain his excitement. Tony walked off and Peter nudged you awake before you went off and took the bus back to your dorms.

***

Authors note:

hiiii I hope yall enjoyed the first chapter. It was just like a 'setting up the story' chapter. I'm publishing these as I go to get motivation to keep going from my readers 😭

[jccatstudios]

SoC Comic Adaptation and General FAQ

General

Who are you?

Hi, I'm Claire (she/they)! I'm currently studying to become a professional comic creator. I love drawing fashion, expressive characters, and anti-hero action.

Where else can I find your work?

You can find all my work on my website! I'm also on Instagram, Twitter, and Tumblr. You can find my fan art under the handle jccatstudios, and my original art under jcscottart (only on Instagram and Twitter).

How can I support your work?

Besides supporting my work through your lovely comments and reblogs, you can help monetarily support me on Ko-Fi. Your support helps fund my college education.

Six of Crows: A Comic Adaptation

Why are you doing this?

Ever since I read the duology, I always thought it would make a great graphic novel series. When my professor encouraged me to start a webcomic, I took the opportunity to make the comic I imagined into reality. I want to see the whole series illustrated through comics one day. If I got the chance to make the official adaptation, that would be one of my biggest dream projects. I'm also using this project as an opportunity to improve my skills before I graduate.

Will you post it on (insert webcomic platform)?

Probably not. Most online comic platforms are meant for scroll format, and I'm making a traditional format comic. Plus, I post on so many sites already, so I think adding another would take too much time out of actually creating the comic.

Will you draw the whole book/series?

I wish I could! Since I'm not doing this full-time or professionally, that's quite unlikely. It would take years to complete it full-time, who knows how long as a hobby. I'd love to add a six-volume SoC graphic novel series to my shelf, but that of course can't be done without some serious backing. I'm currently working on adapting Chapter 3.

Where's Chapter 1: Joost?

I never drew it! I started with Chapter 2: Inej because I wanted to draw the main characters first. The first chapter of the comic is the second chapter of the book. I name the comic chapters after the book chapters just to make it clear which part of the book they correspond to.

Can I repost your art, use your art for layouts/edits, etc?

Yes, you may with visible credit. If you use it for your profile layout, put my handle in your bio. If you're reposting it or using my art for edits/collages, put my handle in the description. As long as it's for personal use, you can use my art. Do not sell copies of my art, use it in merch, or use it for any sort of monetary gain. Do not use my art for prompting or generating images.

Can I use your character designs and headcanons in fanart, fanfic, etc?

Absolutely! Please tag me if you do. I don't need credit since I didn't create any of these characters, but I definitely want to see what you create. :D

How do you make the comic?

The comic is made with mostly traditional methods with some digital editing. I pencil and ink all of the pages on bristol board. I mainly use the G-pen nib for characters and technical pens for the backgrounds. Once I scan the pages, I do light adjustments to the line art and correct any mistakes. The gray tones come from a single sheet of ink wash adjusted to be lighter or darker. The bubbles and lettering are all digital.

If anything else comes up, I'll add it here! Feel free to send me an ask if you have a question that isn't on this post.

[azriona]

Doctor Who compilation bookbinding project

Okay, continued the bookbinding this afternoon, and this time paid slightly more attention to the signature order, so now it's all sewed up in the right direction. The textblock isn't quite done--it still needs endpapers and headbands-- but that's going to have to wait because I don't have the endpapers I want.

Anyway, I thought I'd post progress pictures for those interested, and because I realized I haven't taken progress photos of any of the projects thus far. This is the third of my own fics that I've been binding. I'm not doing too much new with this one, but I still haven't figured out the cover so I might try something with that. Anyway, this compilation is of my Doctor Who fics (Pages and Left Behind are the main ones, and then an assortment of shorter fics).

(Confession: it has been so long since I read Left Behind, and I have been so deep in the MCU lately, that I read the opening to this story and my first thought is, "Tony Stark is in this here?!" 😂😂😂😂)

So the first part of fanbinding actually creating the pdf for printing. This probably takes up the most time, because I'm doing a shit-ton of trying to coax Word to do what I want it to do. Luckily, I learned how to do this when prepping Pen's books for printing, and I've gotten a lot better and faster at it over the years. I don't know that I'm any good at it, really--I see some layouts that are frankly amazing and inventive and creative and I wish I could think of those designs, but hey, I think I do all right. You can't see on the above page (it's too light) but there's the faint design of Gallifreyen behind the chapter title there. I also played a lot with using backgrounds on the main title pages:

Okay, those show up better. I'm trying to decide if I want to trim the pages so that you don't have that blank outline around the title page decoration. (Word won't let you print all the way to the edge of the page, which I guess is the drawback of home printing? Eh.) The advantage of trimming would be that I get that nice flat side to the textblock; right now it's that choppy sort of look. Which I don't mind, honestly, but at some point I gotta learn how to cut those pages nice and even.

The deets: printed on ivory letter-sized paper, folded in half. The entire file is a nice solid 300 pages or so.

Anyway, with the signatures printed, it was time to put it together. This time, I had an awl-guide and cradle that I had 3-D printed at the library based on a design from Thingiverse. CHECK THAT BABY OUT. Mine is white and gold (because I told the library I did not care what color they used). I have to say, I love it. Made cutting holes soooooo much easier and faster and perfect and painless. Support your local library, folks, they have all sorts of cool toys.

Sewing it together: I'm continuing to use a kettle-stitch, because it's easy and fast and previously I had trouble keeping the stitches even and tight. I think I finally figured out how to do both now, both a factor in the holes being consistent (thank you, awl guide & cradle) and just paying better attention to the tension in the thread. This is probably the thickest I could go without those strappy thing I see some of the thicker tomes using (I cannot remember the name and you do not want to know what I found when I typed "strappy things" in Google; it sure didn't pertain to bookbinding).

FEAST YOUR EYES ON THE GORGEOUS, PEOPLE.

So that's where we're leaving it; I have a pretty good idea what endpapers I want to use, I just have to get back to JoAnn's to get them. I have ideas about the cover, but I'm not sure how to make it happen, so I'll let that ferment and switch back to one of the other projects. More later.

[sparklykat-hideoutenthusiast]

I've seen people doing an intro post so I suppose I should do the same right? I have no idea how to do this, I'm just winging it :3

INTRO POST TIME WOOO!!

Follow my other blog where I reblog a bunch of stuff and things for the full experience of my personality and interests! @eckos-reblogs ! :3

Oh, and I guess @nature-is-mystical is my other random blog that you can follow...as well..if you want..that blog is just for reblogging nature stuff and posting nature stuffz... (Occasionally rhymes come with it ig)

I will continue to edit this, probably for the rest of time to get it right since I'm a slight perfectionist lol

Hello! I've been an artist for around 5 to 6 years, and I still kinda suck at it! I do traditional art normally but I've been branching out to digital art as well. I mostly draw animals, anthropomorphic creatures, creatures in general, whatever beautifully ugly faces I can come up with, and sometimes human faces!

My main Media for traditional art is, pens, pencil, gel pens, paint markers (posca) and normal markers! I hope to soon branch out to ink! (Maybe one day you'll get to see some watercolor stuff from me. It's not that good of watercolor art and I don't enjoy painting too much tbh)

Anatomy You say? Don't know her 😔

If you are interested, I do art requests! It's not guaranteed to be good or to be done quickly but I will try my very best every time. You can even request multiple times if you'd like, just try to keep the time frame a bit spaced out so I don't get overwhelmed :3 ❤️

If there's something I don't mention here that you're wondering if I can draw or not, give me an ask in my inbox and I'll let you know! (Pls, I'm friendly I swear)

You can also dm me if you'd like but I'd prefer the askbox instead (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠)

I can't draw: items, anatomy, bodies (unless you want the equivalent of a boxy stick figure), rendering, lighting, dragons (without a reference), romance/NSFW (no, just no.), hands, legs (for the life of me 😭), +more

I can draw: faces, animals (mostly cat related ones but you can request any animal and I'll at least try to draw it.), different hair styles (only with a reference), eye bags (I think they're pretty lol), dragons (only with a good reference), +more!

My name is Ecko and it's my preferred name but you can refer to me as Melleona (my OC) or by a nickname as well if you'd like! (just please ask me first if you want to use a nickname as I'm bad with setting boundaries.)

My pronouns are She/Her but feel free to refer to me as "it" or "that" :3 (when I was a bit younger i was often referred to as "it," as a joke, I found it incredibly funny and don't mind being referred to as "it" now)

I'm a minor! Mind your words, don't send me gross/weird asks or messages. (I've already had a few people message me asking for my age, a picture of me, and my sexuality. No, I will not be sharing my real appearance on here. my age? Minor, that's all you need to know. My sexuality? I don't know and you don't need to know either, respectfully ^^❤️)

IDC if I post something slightly suggestive or that says I know about 18+ themes. I posted it, not someone saying something to me of those themes. Sure, I understand the stuff but It really doesn't matter now does it? It just means I understand enough to know you shouldn't be saying that stuff to me. (Boundaries ✨)

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I do half-curse in posts from time to time. I do censor it a bit tho, like "f7ck" for example. Hope ya don't mind (⁠；⁠^⁠ω⁠^⁠）

I support the lgbtq+ community! And I don't discriminate against race. I really shouldn't have to say this. (˘⁠･⁠_⁠･⁠˘)

I will respond to money asks with "!!" And that's it. I don't have money and even if I did I don't got any money to spare. I'm broke and struggling too. Not to mention, I'm a minor and can't just go out and get the stuff. I hope you understand and I wish you all the best!❤️❤️❤️

Some games and shows and stuff I like:

Shows and stuff: Rick and Morty, adventure time, lost in space, bsd (never watched it but I've seen enough of it on the Internet to know a bit about it. Very interesting :3), Some of the Life Minecraft series, httyd, doctor who, and more!

Games/fandoms: Yonder(Yonder Cloud Catcher Chronicles.), Minecraft, the Stanley parable, tiny bit of South Park, cotl, MLP(childish I know but I don't care. I love them), creepypasta, SCPs, Trevor Henderson's creatures (mostly cartoon cat), and more!

Stuff and things: Art, apparently I make rhymes now too?? and more!

General facts about me! Yippee!

I live in a bus (not decked out like you see on social media though. We just live in a bus lol), I live with my ma (my dad is my step dad and he and my mom just broke up recently sooo ye), I blank out a lot and just stare at people for no reason (which freaks them out), I have greyish blue eyes (a long with some, I'm pretty sure permanent eye bags lol), I get energy right before nighttime mostly (and then it disappears as soon as it reaches around 11 pm to 12 am), My favorite color is maroon (and any type of blue along with orange and yellow and forest green..mostly just comfy vibe colors tbh but maroon is a fixed piece), my favorite animal is a cat (although I have a dog. Muffin doesn't count as a dog, she's practically human. Apart of the family.), and more!

(I'll update this as I go)

[I will block as I see fit]

Do not interact with my blog if: You're racist, you only or mostly have sexual themes on your own blog (I apologize but it makes me uncomfortable. Have some other interests and it might make me less uncomfortable ^^), if you in general just enjoy hating on people for no reason (I like to make my area a safe space for people) (more will be added later when I think of what to add)

(Added a specific part of that bc a moot felt they were making me uncomfortable by having such themes on their blog. I didn't really realize at first but yes that does make slightly uncomfortable but I don't really care as long as you have other interests. If s3x is your only interest, it weirds me out to have those types of people interact with me. Just know you're all good moot, you're not the type of person I was aiming it at. There are other people that just don't think about anything else but $ex and relationships that creep me out and you are not one of them. ^^❤️)

Things about me, (random stuff): I am cringe from time to time, my fav colors are maroon and any kind of blue, orange is nice too though,

I appreciate any and all constructive criticism. IDC if it sounds rude and might hurt my feelings, TELL ME so I can help better myself and my blog! I'm dum and will most likely not notice I'm doing something weird or anything :P <3

•Send me asks! Want to hug one of my OCs? Send an ask!- Want to slap the sh1t out of one of em? Send an ask!- Want to introduce me to a new (or old) fandom I don't know of but you think I might be interested in? Send an ask!- Want to say hi? Send an ask!- Want to- ok- I'm sure you get the point now lol Send an ask!! I love interaction :3 (I'm friendly I promise 😭)

•Moots:

@theachskid @voidsweirdthoughts @burningbutter @rafrfr @rateater2000

@footlongdingledong @ender-the-insomniac @thistlebriar @rspoetry @virtualcroissantflapcolor

@jawdoesstuff @storythesilly @yourfavoritecuntist @chamber-of-voices @i-draw-things

@2oo7xddd @catsreblogging @silli-billy15 @totally-not-a-commie @khloethecatsworld

@1nd13gh0st @cur1os1tyk1lledme

@sensehumor ♥️

+any future moots/one's I might have forgotten (I hope I wouldn't forget anyone 🥲)

My art ↑

Tags and stuff! To help you find stuff in my blog better through search :)

#Ecko draws -exactly as is obvious, it will be for when I make art, digital or traditional.

#Echoes Ramble -For posts of mine that include no art or anything. Just me talking.

#Echo answers - For when I answer asks!! :D

#Mama Change - For when I mention my mom. (Her name is change..or it's more of a nickname but no one calls her by her actual name except for professional/job people like a dentist or something)

Yippee!! That's all for now folks! ❤️

Not my art ↑

I'll update this whole thing as I go, any questions, just send an ask and I'll update this with the answer as well as you know- replying in general lol :3

[fennybunny]

HIRO HAMADA X READER

Ok so this is my first ever time using this social and I'm kinda nervous. Anyways I wrote a fanfic and I'd like to share it with the few people who are still obsessed with BigHero6. It's a older Hiro Hamada x genious reader. I post the chapters on wattpad but if I see this getting some attention I'll also start posting the chapters when they're ready here. You can find me as @Red_Madhattress there.

I hope you enjoy

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𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗞𝗶𝗻𝗴

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The life at the Lucky Cafe seemed more and more lively, customers flocked every day to taste the sweet creations of Aunt Tess, and as more time passed the more you could realize that two hands were not enough to do everything. So when Tadashi was busy with his lectures and university work, Hiro was there to give her a hand. Morning rush, break, lunch rush, break, afternoon rush, and finally the Cafe doors closed behind Hiro's shoulders with a tired and noisy huff from the boy’s lips. The boy turned the sign to the other side and could finally see the words 'we are open'  with his own eyes, a good thing because it meant that the only thing the people outside the shop could see was the glorious words 'we are closed', but it also reminded him that all this would start again tomorrow. Aunt Tess walked closer and stopped behind him, putting a hand on her nephew’s shoulder

"The day is finally over, huh? Go get some rest, I’ll finish up on my own. And please tell your brother we’re eating early tonight."

Hiro took off his apron soiled with powdered sugar and a few drops of coffee, thus revealing to his unpleasant surprise that a drop had also ended up on his t-shirt staining it.

"Oh come on, It was clean this morning"

He grunted again, clutching the apron in his fist and starting to make his way upstairs. He made a short stop at the laundry room, saw the pile of clothes to wash, and ignored them by putting the object in his hand on the already existing pile and then headed towards his room. The door of the shared bedroom creaked and he pushed it close with the palm of his hand.

"Tadashi"

No answer. The separator they had put to divide the spaces and as an attempt to have more privacy was open. Hiro pushed it slightly to the side looking out on the desk where his older brother was sleeping blissfully, notes over notes spread across it and under his head, headphones in his ears and a pen still standing straight between his fingers as a drop of saliva began to form on the corner of his mouth.

Hiro sighed as he slowly approached him, grabbing the glass of water on the desk and dropping a few drops behind the brother's neck. The cold water managed to wake him up.

"Wha-who? Hiro?"

With a quick move, he first checked the watch on his wrist and then took off his headphones.

"I must have fallen asleep"

"You think so?"

Tadashi made a face that immediately turned into a grin, grabbed his brother, forced Hiro's head under his arm, and then began to mess up his brother’s black hair.

"What a good boy you are Hiro, always caring so much about your big brother"

He said it with a playful tone as the boy’s hair began to look more and more like a bird’s nest. Tadashi immediately got punched in the chest, not strongly enough to hurt him but strongly enough to make him understand that his brother had not appreciated the gesture. And just like that the stupid game ended.

"Next time I won’t even bother waking you up"

The discussion ended and the 17-year-old headed for his side of the room, closing the divider again and taking a seat on the desk, Googling the city’s upcoming botfight rallies. Two weeks had passed since his last bot fight, and for him, it was time to prove his strength in the ring again. The King. That's what people called him, everyone knew his name ever since he was 13 when ,for the first time, he had stepped into the glorious nightlife of San Fransokyo. The first reaction of the crowd was that of a little boy who got lost on the way home but it took just one round to prove his skills. Yama was the name of the previous owner of the bot fight king title. It took him one night to reduce Yama to a cluster of circuits and cables and so the title passed to Hiro’s magnetic robot: Megabot. His name was now famous throughout the whole city so much so that the bot fights he participated in over time became a painful excuse for the bravest to gather and try to beat Megabot. Each time they ended up crushed and so also the dream of becoming the new number one was broken under Hiro's victorious grin. By now the only thing he needed was to find a ride for the night since Tess knew his 'addiction' to botfights and had forbidden him not only to get himself a driving license but also to learn how to ride his brother’s scooter. He needed a solution.

"Tadashi?"

"What do you want Hiro? I have to catch up on the work I lost while I was sleeping"

"You gotta give me a ride tonight."

"Ah-ah not gonna happen, you remember how angry Aunt Tess got after the last bot fight."

"You don’t have to tell her we’re going out, we can sneak out."

"It’s still a no."

Once again, silence. Hiro rolled his eyes and got up walking towards the door of the room and making sure his brother could hear every step he Took.

"Okay then I'm going to tell our sweet auntie that you spent the afternoon sleeping instead of studying and that you could have helped us out at the Cafe."

He was immediately stopped and pulled away from the door by the hood of the sweatshirt.

"It’s okay gnome but know that at the first opportunity, I’ll make you pay for a low blow like this"

Victory.

That same evening at 9:37 pm they secretly went out, passing behind the sofa in the living room where Aunt Cass had fallen asleep at least 30 minutes before watching her favorite soap opera while Mochi slept on her legs. There could be heard a slight click of the door closing and shortly after, Hiro and Tadashi were already hurtling toward the first botfight of the evening in one of the secondary districts of the city. Obviously, as usual, the plan was to see what the situation was, if it was quiet he would collect some money and then move to the nearest bot fight and repeat the process. It wasn’t even hard for him to keep his title so he was just doing it for the money. The university where Tadashi went was the best in its field of the whole city and this also meant that the tuition was quite heavy on Cass's shoulders and on the Lucky Cafe, not to mention the fact that she had to feed herself, a rather fat cat, and two teenagers. It's not like the business was going badly but it’s always better to have some money aside in case of problems and that’s what Hiro did, every week he deposited 80% of what he earned in botfights into his aunt’s bank account and left a small supply for himself for personal expenses and to make repairs on Megabot. Spare parts and things like that.

The evening went as planned, fortunately for Hiro and the other people present at the rally, no patrol had yet passed to check the area so the two brothers decided to take a break and eat a burger at the nearby fast food restaurant.

"Hiro, I was thinking maybe it wouldn’t hurt for you to expand your horizons."

Hiro sighed, took a sip of his drink, and placed the sandwich on the plate.

"Come on, we talked about this. Graduating early was a miracle for me, now I have more time to help Cass and do what I want..."

He took a French fry covered in ketchup and pointed it in his brother's face, then backed away and did his usual arrogant smile.

"Which in this case is having fun with bot fights"

He popped the fry in his mouth. Tadashi shook his head took a bite of his sandwich and kept talking while he was chewing, causing a half disgusted expression from his little brother.

"I know, but it makes me feel like you're wasting your talent and that brilliant head of yours. Other people in your place would have done something else, I would have done something else-"

A woman approached the table outside the diner where they were eating and laid a piece of paper with an address on their table. Hiro was confused and, swallowing the bite, made a weird expression directed to his brother as if to tell him to do something, a sign that Tadashi immediately caught.

"Hello? Uhm do we know you?"

The woman had long brown hair with blue on the ends, half her head was shaved, and she had dark skin and black lipstick. From her clothes, she looked like she’d just come out of the movie 'X Men', a leather jacket that went down to her knees, she wore blue elephant-flared jeans and black boots. The paper she had placed on the table contained a map and a place that seemed to be somewhere on the border of the city circled with a red pen.

"No, but I know that what I’m about to offer you is an opportunity for this little guy to turn his night around".

Hiro turned to look at her with an expression that was a mixture of surprise and anger while Tadashi tried to contain his laughter, failing miserably.

"I'm not a little guy"

"You’re a little guy to me. Anyway, as I think you already know this is the map of San Fransokyo, follow the directions and you will arrive at a palace, If you go up to the top floor, you'll find the R2W club, and since I know that this little guy is a fan of robotics, I’m sure you will have no problem finding it and coming. But in case one of you has trouble reading the map, even if it seems impossible to me, this is my number."

The woman left another piece of paper on the table. The letters read 'Bio Chem Innovations, doc Dean' and under it it had a number. Tadashi seemed to want to say something but he seemed to have been stunned by the woman’s talk so his brother took over the conversation.

"R2W? What is that?"

"Simply the most exclusive bot fight club in the city"

"How come I’ve never heard of it?"

"So...first of all, we’re not as stupid as the other rallies you participate in, we don't post online the locations where we conduct our illegal bot fights. And second, it’s a limited-number club where only the best botfighters get in, so having someone like you would be more than interesting for us. Anyway I have to go"

She quickly shook hands with both of them.

"If you are interested we open tomorrow at 10:30 p.m. sharp"

After that, she turned around and disappeared into the crowd that was still watching the ongoing bot fights a little further from the table. There was an awkward silence again, and then...

"I wanna go"

The brother choked on the food he had just started eating again, slammed a fist on the table, making it shake for a short moment, and pressed the other hand on his chest trying to swallow the bite without killing himself.

"Hell no you're not!"

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[agendabymooner]

i think he knows ! lando n. x ofc (alessandro sister!writer!ofc)

"he got the boyish look that i like in a man."

summary: nicola alessandro released a novel under the pen name 'grazie nichols' and everyone made sure that the fans are supporting her. lando norris could do anything but be subtle about the things he knew, and the novel's inspo was one of those things.

content warning: possible use of explicit language, appearance of other fictional characters (hearth sisters, lester ricciardo, etc), dirty jokes (no smut), ofc and lando being menaces, ofc being obsessed with lando, fans trying to come up with theories, ofc's account is private (colabebe)

note: (time check: 12:25 am) i'm sorry i dipped out 😭 a lot happened yesterday: i hung out with the guy (it was awkward lol) went to see the barbie movie with my sister then had a sangria after- i was planning to post something when i got home but apparently i'm a lightweight and was knocked out after. let me know what you think!!! anyway enjoy xx

ps. yes the graphics in here are stuff that i made hehe sorry if they're awful but these are just some last minute shit i made xx

masterlist

tagged grazienichols

liked by landonorris, alex_albon, arthurleclerc

user1 new booktok rec??

user2 the grid is literally hyping this up 😭 is it that good

user3 MORE FORMULA ONE BOOKS!!!

user4 my wallet: empty

user5 me rn: trying to determine which driver relates to the man in the book the most 🧐

user6 bets on leclerc

user7 hmmm i think its more like estie? he's giving muse

user8 it could be yuki ???

user9 i agree user6 it's most likely shal bc that man is book bf material

liked by landonorris, pierregasly, danielricciardo

danielricciardo i don't blame them; this book is a bomb ass book 😉 liked by grazienichols

grazienichols 🤪

user1 grazie stop emptying my wallet challenge 🤐

grazienichols 😶 sorry xx

user2 making money just to get to monaco gp- gurl i don't blame you 😭

grazienichols it's getting more expensive as years go on 🥶

f1 monaco gp you say??? 👀

user3 she's making money already just toss the ticket in us broke people's direction 🙃

user4 yeah what she said ^^

tagged charles_leclerc, loricciardo, estebanocon and 7 other people

liked by colabebe, danielricciardo, arthurleclerc

user1 isn't lester pregnant??? why is she bent like that on the 7th photo? 😭

user2 lester can do things us mere humans can't

alex_albon i am appalled liked by lando.jpg

lando.jpg i can't put too much photos sorry lad

alex_albon i'll remember this.

user3 lando fed us with the hearth sisters content at the slides 2, 4 and 6 and i've never felt this loved since my ex &lt;3

user4 gurl 💀 u good

user5 ESTIE BESTIEEEE 😩 i might bust a lil gimme a sec to chill

user6 the sisters in blue 🤤

user7 who's the third photo?

user8 lester's youngest sister, nicola

danielricciardo loricciardo 🤨 what're u doing?

loricciardo protecting baby ric 😳 liked by lando.jpg

lando.jpg by flattening his head? 😟

loricciardo you just reduced my standing time and increased my bedrest time lando.jpg thx

lando.jpg what 😭 what's gonna happen if you're in bedrest? is the baby's head going to inflate back to place??

danielricciardo landonorris lad. that's not how it works.

arthurleclerc colabebe that pink is nice asf

colabebe thank you art!!! nice seeing you!!!

user9 uhhhhh?!!! arthur and daniel's in-law?

georgerussell63 why am i not there??? 🧐

lando.jpg my bad- i didn't really want you to take of your shirt in the middle of the ballroom hall. not really your night tonight mate.

user10 where is toto?!!!

lando.jpg god love him but he already has enough photo taken by his own wife. give others some chance to make it to my jpg account

user10 understood king 🤌

sylvieeford no max?? he really pissed you off 😹 liked by lando.jpg

lando.jpg yeah, and keep on reminding him that. maybe he'd apologize for once 🙄

landonorris posted a story !!!

tagged landonorris

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo, nora_alessandro

danielricciardo my favourite italian-british couple (no offense nora but i don't like georgerussell63 that much) liked by colabebe

nora_alessandro 😒😒

georgerussell63 you're not my favourite aussie either mate 😉

landonorris god gave me an equally obsessed gf and i love him for it liked by colabebe

colabebe just him??? 💔

landonorris me when you: 💗😩😳🤤

colabebe ❤️‍🩹

landonorris look at her

landonorris shes so pretty omg whats her @

oscarpiastri your simp looking ass is getting more obvious

colabebe 🤨 not my fault u don't get bitches 🤡

oscarpiastri do you wanna fight or wha 🤬

colabebe i deadlegged you last time and you ate shit so idk if thats even a question

oscarpiastri landonorris ur rat is at it again

landonorris hey man, that's my simp. leave her alone

mateoales throwing up

landonorris ratio + take L + didn't ask

colabebe cry + whine + sob + complain

mateoales you two are so mean when ur together

[queenburd]

Cross posted to ao3. Very mild formatting differences. Comments make me happy.

Hey, folks, this one is heavy, long, and full of repetitive text and phrases. While I know that's par for the course with this game, I bring it up because I know writing it made me feel weird at times, and it intentionally leans into its theme of deterioration. Take care of yourselves. We're dealing with the Figurines Ending, the Epilogue, and the Skip button.

If you like my writing, please consider tipping me. I also have commissions and a paypal donation button.

|.|.|.|

The first thing Stanley does, when the reset hits and he finds himself staring at his desk, is pick up the mug that sits on the corner and hurl it out the door of his office. It hits the wall beside the doorframe on the opposite side of the room, and shatters on impact.

“Stanley?! What in God’s name—“

He screams.

It’s a hoarse noise. It’s deep and it’s broken and it hurts to get out, but he screams because there’s something horrible inside him, something he needs to purge. The noise cuts out, and then begins again.

The chair is grabbed next—he hooks his arms around the backrest and lifts the thing to chest height before he flings it with all his strength. A wheel catches on the doorframe to his office and the chair crashes to the floor, hitting the wall with an almighty, horrendous crash and sliding partway across the hideous beige carpet.

“Stanley!”

His chest heaves with fierce, angry panting. His cheeks are wet. Another noise wrenches itself from his throat. Stanley turns to his desk and swipes his arm across everything on it, knocking pencils and papers and pens to the floor. He slams his fists on it. He turns and kicks one of the filing cabinets, turns and paces in the little room like a caged animal.

There is so much built up inside him that he doesn’t know what to do with. All he knows is that he’s going to rip this place apart with his bare hands.

It’s not just anger, you must understand. It’s much more complicated than that. You see, Stanley has just come from the Epilogue.

-

The sand blows around him. The wind is cold and fierce. The sun is unforgiving. The moon is a large lamp in the sky.

And Stanley is alone.

He walks for what feels like eternity. He walks for what seems like mere minutes. He walks towards nothing. He turns in every direction. He puts one foot in front of the other.

And Stanley is alone.

The fire doesn’t warm him. He can’t dislodge the chairs from the ground. There’s sand in his shoes and shirt and mouth. He wraps his arms around his chest and walks and walks.

And he is alone.

-

“Yes, I'm remembering something now. I remember before this whole story got started.

Back then, I was... I was different; I used to make big decisions, I was passionate! I was skeptical! I weighed each decision with profound thoughtfulness.

And then, somewhere along the way, I stopped making decisions.

I became lazy. And I came up with—well—I came up with a character named Stanley, to do my thinking for me. He would make the decisions, he would decide which way to go, I would cheer him on as he collected figurines for no reason.

Why did I invent Stanley? Was I lonely?

Yes, perhaps that's it. Perhaps I needed to imagine I had companionship. And Stanley really did make for a wonderful companion, even if he was a fiction.

But—ahh, I suppose it's grown old. I-I want to think for myself again. I want to go back to how it used to be.

Yes, I can be on my own again. I can do it! I'll be stronger this time. I'll take care of myself. I don't need Stanley anymore.

Oh, but he truly was so much fun to play with!

You know what? Since we're in the Memory Zone, how about one more good memory?

Let's go back, just once, and give Stanley one more run of the office! And then, I'll retire him for good. I did enjoy telling his story—so very much.

Okay, here we go.

This is the story of a man named Stanley.”

-

The Memory Zone is flooded with sand. The bucket does little to comfort Stanley, even as he holds it to his chest. He follows the power cord deeper into the deserted building, feeling numb.

-

[ Narrator? ]

[ Narrator, what are you talking about? ]

[ Can’t you see me? Hey! Hey! Narrator! ]

[ Why won’t you answer me? Answer me, please! ]

[ Narrator! ]

-

“I’ll take care of myself. I don’t need Stanley anymore.”

-

“Jim.”

“Jim.”

“Jim.”

The buttons glow softly. He presses them mindlessly.

“Jim.”

“Jim.”

“Jim.”

What once was a source of amusement leaves an ashy taste in his mouth. The bastard never tried, in the end, to make these buttons work. Like everything else, he half-assed it, then abandoned it when something else caught his interest. Left it to collect dust. Left it to be forgotten, with the rest of the oh-so-precious memories.

With Stanley.

Hurt blooms in his chest. It’s been minutes—it’s been years. Time doesn’t mean anything at all in this stupid game. Nothing means anything. The thousand thousand runs they’ve played don’t mean anything. The conversations they had don’t mean anything. Their friendship doesn’t mean anything.

He doesn’t mean anything.

“Jim.”

“Jim.”

“Jim.”

“Stanley.”

-

“Stop sniggering, Stanley, you’re ruining my take! Oh, it’s no use, we’ll have to start from the top.”

Stanley giggles around the hand he has pressed firmly to his mouth. He wants to be apologetic, and he’s glad the Narrator is involving him in this new promotion for the upcoming update, but the delight in him keeps bubbling over. It’s so rare to see the fellow direct that old familiar vitriol at someone other than Stanley himself. After so long knowing him, hearing him attempt to be menacing and nasty is outright silly.

“Wh—Silly?! You impetuous—Stanley, stop laughing!!”

Sorry, he’s sorry! A little off-balance from his own laughter, Stanley climbs onto the set and adds another tally to the whiteboard there.

“Unbelievable,” the voice mutters while he climbs back off the set and makes sure the camera is still centered on the tripod. “Here I am, trying to make a serious critique of game developer habits, and you demand to be included so I include you, and what do I get? Mockery. Absolutely ridiculous.”

Comments like these do little to dampen Stanley’s spirits, but he does attempt to sober himself. He does, after all, appreciate that the fellow has gone through all the effort to include him in brainstorming this one and setting it up. It was his idea to include the clocks and the tally board, and he really does think the shot is improved for it.

He sits back into the metal folding chair quietly. No more laughing. Promise. He’ll manage it this time.

The Narrator clears his throat. “Right. Let me review the script again.”

Stanley nods. His eyes flick around the small office set, then back to the computer monitor.

Man, has it really been almost nine years? It feels like they’ve been doing this for much longer.

“Well, really it’s only a little more than eight years, if I’m being honest. The original HD game released in October of 2013, so depending on when Ultra Deluxe drops in 2022, it may only be a couple months past the eighth anniversary.”

That’s being a bit generous to the developers, Stanley thinks. Does the Narrator really think it will drop in January?

“Oh, I don’t know, Stanley! I’m guessing, same as you.”

Still. Over eight years. Why does it feel like they’ve been here for much longer?

“Well,” the voice sniffs, “it could be for a number of reasons. Time is relative in the Parable, after all. Then of course there’s the fact you rarely sleep, since you don’t need to, so you get a lot more time than most proper humans would, since the usual human circadian rhythm makes them lose at least eight hours in a day. That’s fifty-six extra hours a week you have over most. Multiply by fifty-two, and then again by eight, and that’s not an insubstantial amount of time, I would say.”

That's fair. That's... shoot, Stanley isn't fantastic with numbers. That's... Fifty by fifty is twenty-five hundred, then six and and two is twelve—

“Twenty-three thousand, two hundred ninety-six hours. Divided by twenty-four, it's an additional 970.6 days, which means over two and a half additional years.”

Did he just pull up a calculator?

“Didn't.”

He totally did. Stanley heard the tapping of old clunky buttons.

There's a derisive sniff. “Yes, I suppose you would be the expert on buttons, and not maths.”

Also, is that two and a half years extra per year, or altogether?

“....I don't know.”

This is gonna give him a headache.

Quite without their meaning to, the both of them begin to chuckle at the same time. It's ridiculous, honestly. They're bickering over math, over time and takes and it's all just so ridiculous.

Eight years, give or take two or possibly twenty. That's how long it's been since Stanley started wandering these halls with little more than a voice for a companion. That's... that's a lot of time together. It's a lot of time for things to change. He kind of likes how things have changed.

And, as the fellow said before, time is relative here. They can and have experienced things on a different scale from how an experience would play out in the real world. Their own individual experiences are different even from each other's, with lost time, pauses between death sequences, loading screens—it's all subjective. Guess Einstein was on to something there. Bet he never imagined it in this kind of context, though.

Still. It's a long time with one other person. The universe spins on, and they have each other.

There's the tapping of keys again, a little soft muttering. He smiles.

He's double-checking the numbers, isn't he?

“No! No, I'm not, thank you!” The defensive tone in the Narrator's words confirm that yes, he is. It's made further obvious by the following deflection. “Now, that's enough of a break, let's get back to work. And no giggling this time, Stanley!”

He clears his throat, and the lights dim on the set. Stanley settles back in the metal chair with a grin, arms crossed.

“What does it mean to be a video game developer?” The voice begins. “It means lying, boldly and brazenly to your audience; promising them release dates that are wildly outside the realm of reality...”

-

“Stanley.”

“Stanley.”

“Stanley.”

Why is he still pressing it? Why can't he stop? Why is Stanley shaking, fingers pressing down on the plastic again and again?

“Stanley.”

“Stanley.”

“Stanley.”

“Stanley.”

When did the Narrator make this? When did he—and why is it here, with the rest of the discarded buttons? Why would he go through the effort to make something, just to leave it behind?

The button doesn't answer him. He presses it, and presses it, and it says his name until the word loses all meaning.

“Stanley.”

“Stanley.”

“Stanley.”

“Stanley.”

-

Every time you restart the game, we’ll advance the number of the sequel by 1, and then we’ll pick a new subtitle. That way, The Stanley Parable will never end! And nothing in the game itself will change when you do this, either. Adding more content sounds like work, no need to do that. It’ll just be the same content, recycled again and again and again, with a new title screen! What do you say? Should we go forward with this plan? I like it, but I want you to have a say as well. [Let’s do it]     [Don’t do it]

He stares at the dark screen, but he doesn't really see it.

Stanley feels cored out. There's an emptiness in him that he can't truly comprehend. It hurts, he thinks, but he feels it in a detached sort of way.

The Narrator is gone. Stanley is alone. Yet, even now, he faces choices that are designed around traps for one or both of them. How is that fair?

How is it fair to ask him if he wants to go back to the office, to go back to companionship, when the companion in question has apparently abandoned him? How is it fair to ask him if he wants to drag that person back into hell, when they've supposedly freed themselves from it after years?

-

“How they wish to destroy one another. How they wish to control one another.

How they both wish to be free.”

-

He doesn't want to be alone, in this wasteland. He knows in the end what he's going to choose, and he hates that he does.

He's selfish. He's so, so selfish. His loneliness is more important than the Narrator's happiness, that's what this decision says. It says that he would rather force them both to live through the Parable, again and again, forever, than have the Narrator leave him.

And then, here's the kicker! Is this even Stanley's own choice? Is he coming to the conclusion himself, or is there another force at play, a Player, influencing his decision? He can't know! He only ever knows the Player's presence in the godforsaken Real-Person ending, they only ever fully yank the control from him there. Can he even trust his own mind?

Does... Does it matter?

[Let’s do it]

-

Stanley is not a good person.

-

So. As I said before, reader. Stanley's emotions are a complicated tangle of hurt, anger, despair, and uncertainty. It's almost impossible to tell where to begin when it comes to unraveling it all.

Still, one must do one's best.

-

For as long as the Parable has existed, it has spun around conflict. Taijitu, or yin-yang, is a circle made up of two teardrops, one black and one white, circling each other endlessly. A wheel that turns forever. Opposing forces that will never overtake the other. Always equal, always opposite.

But you recall this, don't you? This isn't new information. We've been here before.

Stanley and the Narrator are equal and opposing forces, circling each other. Stanley makes a choice, and the Narrator responds. Stanley moves forward, and the Narrator tries to pull him back. A battle for control—one only ever responds to the other. Neither of them can claim to want this, but if they didn't want different things, then there would be no game to play.

Time and again, the Parable tests the bond that has been crafted through time and care. Memories are taken. Time is stretched thin as it can go, like a rubber band. Stanley makes a choice, and it brings the Narrator joy or suffering. If he stops, the Narrator will be at peace, but then there will be silence, and silence cannot be tolerated. Silence is the equivalent of inaction.

At the risk of sounding like a broken record, this is a game about control, and the lack of it. If you could find happiness through a single choice, but it would bring another person pain, would you do it?

How they both wish to be free.

-

But these two have turned a battle into a dance. There will always be a drop of yin in the teardrop half of yang, and vice-versa.

So how do they fight back? How do they choose to progress, when the wheel turns ever back? Or are they doomed to repeat the cycle forever?

-

When Stanley has had enough of his pacing, when the silence has become too oppressive for him to take, he turns on his heel and sharply faces the open door.

Well? Nothing to say? Nothing at all?

“Well,” comes the bitter retort, slower than expected, “I would ask what you expect this tantrum of yours to accomplish, but that isn't exactly the most constructive comment, is it?”

A hiss escapes through Stanley's bared teeth. That's it?

“What do you want from me?!”

It's desperate. It's hurt. It's confused.

“What have I done, Stanley? I can't make sense of you right now, your mind isn't making any sense!”

Of course he doesn't remember. Of course it's Stanley's job to be the one who remembers, who chooses, who deals with the consequences of both their actions. That's how it's always been, that's—

“Stanley, I know our situation has never been balanced fairly in your favor, but I—“

Stanley storms out of his office and kicks his chair out of the way. He grabs a cardboard filing box off the floor and lifts it over his head before flinging it hard. It hits the cubicle wall by the copy machine and the lid flies off, papers scattering across the floor and box bouncing off the top of the copy machine to fall harmlessly to the floor.

“What has gotten into you?!”

Stanley snarls again, at the open air, the ceiling, wherever he thinks the Narrator might be perceiving him. Never been balanced fairly?! Understatement of the millennia! Speaking of millennia, did the Narrator enjoy his little vacay away from Stanley? Was it fun, “thinking for himself”? Leaving Stanley in the sand with the rest of his discarded little game, his figurines and buttons?

“I—“

Did he come up with new stories? New protagonists? Was he stronger? Was he happier without him?

Did Stanley drag him back to hell?

The silence this time feels distinctly more shocked and hurt. Stanley lets out another noise, pacing across the carpet and then turning to door 429. He lifts his fist and slams hard on it, face twisted up into an amalgamate of pain and anger. He beats his fist on the door again, desperate and despairing.

Say something! Say anything! Fight him! Argue with him! Be angry! Be angry that Stanley was so selfish, that Stanley decided to get revenge for being abandoned, please just—

“I'm sorry.”

He flinches.

“I don't—I don't know what I did, but I think it must have been something terrible. I just can't stop, can I? Even when I'm trying to, to be careful, I can't stop being cruel to you. You're angry with me, I can see that, and you don't—you don't like to be angry, so I—“

The voice trembles. It sounds on the verge of tears. Stanley hits the door again, because it hurts to hear, and that's not fair.

Damn him. Damn his own empathy.

“I'm sorry,” it says again. “Whatever I did, I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you somehow. Do, do you want more endings? I'll make new endings, I'll find a way. I'll find more for you to do, I'll come up with something, please just let me fix it. I'm sorry I don't remember, but I'll fix it.”

Stanley screams hoarsely again. His legs give out and he drops, leaning against the bottom of the door with his fist pressed to it. His chest heaves, shaking sobs that wrack his frame, though there's barely any tears. It's just so hard to breathe.

Stop, stop. Stop. Stop apologizing. Stanley is the one in the wrong here. Stanley turned the wheel back. Stanley tore him from his happy ending.

Didn't he?

“I didn't go anywhere,” the voice responds, distraught. “I never left.”

Then what was that?

“I don't know,” it pleads. “Even if I could go, I wouldn't. I wouldn't leave you behind, you're my best friend. I thought you knew that, Stanley.”

He thought he did, too. But then the voice had called him a fiction again, something dreamed up for companionship, and had decided it didn't need him anymore.

The Narrator is quiet at this, and then he says, very carefully and in a voice terribly controlled, “I only ever thought that when you were frozen with the Skip button.”

-

The Narrator waited, but he was not stagnant. At some point, while Stanley was in a small concrete room, lit with only the glow of a yellow button on a pedestal, the Narrator decided to pass the time by making something new. Surely, when all this was over, when they were back in the office, they would put this behind them and pass the time as before.

For all that the new content for Ultra Deluxe had been a disappointment, hidden in the download were folders and folders of unused assets. It seemed that the developers had had countless ideas, and yet had done little to expand on those ideas, choosing instead to box them away. Well, the Narrator would show them what new content was supposed to look like! Who cared about Ultra Deluxe? No, he would really knock the reviewers' socks off. He was going to make a sequel! Stanley would love it!

When he came back.

If he came back.

No, of course he would come back!

And so time passed, and that was fine. More time meant a chance to perfect his work, to work out his new features and to even perhaps address some of the complaints people had had about the original game. And more time passed and he thought he might make a button that says the name of the player, wouldn't that be rewarding and engaging? Stanley would love that! A button of his own to say his name, wouldn't that just be delightful?

And Stanley stared unseeing at the Skip button, and the Narrator thought to himself, perhaps not. Perhaps Stanley wouldn't care at all.

But that was fine, because there were plenty of new features for him to explore! He'd love the Bucket, surely. All the silly secret Easter eggs, the little references to lore that went nowhere, he'd get a kick out of it for sure! And the figurines! There wouldn't be anything special about them, of course, but the fact they were Stanley! His silly face! Oh, the Narrator would be so excited to see Stanley get them all, and of course Stanley would, because he would do everything. He would find every single one.

And, and the Narrator was so excited for that! Maybe he didn't know how Stanley would react, maybe Stanley would think it all silly, but the sheer fact he would find each one, it would delight the voice to no end. It would say “you found one of them! One of the figurines!”

It would be so much fun! Wouldn't it, Stanley?

Stanley?

Ah. Still frozen. Of course. Not a problem. The Narrator would be here when he got back. The sequel would be here. The figurines would be here.

He would just get everything ready in the meantime.

Wouldn't it be wonderful, when Stanley was here, and able to play? There would be so much for him to explore! He would love the Bucket and finding its secrets, and oh, the figurines! He'd find them all, surely he must. And the Narrator would say “you found one of them!”

And one of them would be by the red and blue doors, and Stanley would probably get that one last, but there was no guarantee, he did like to keep the fellow on his toes, but when he did collect the last one, the Narrator would say “and now the first number equals the last number!” And it would be so exciting! Even though there was nothing special about them, just the experience itself, doing something for the sake of it, was so special, and he'd think about it always.

-

“It was such a wonderful fantasy. And so in his head he relived it again, and then again, and again, over and over, wishing beyond hope that it would never end. That he might always feel this free. Surely there's an answer down some new path, mustn't there be? Perhaps if he played just one more time.”

-

And the Narrator would say, “yes, another Stanlurine under your belt!”

-

“But there is no answer. How could there possibly be? In reality, all he's doing is pushing the same buttons he always has. Nothing has changed. The longer he spends here, the more invested he gets, the more he forgets which life is the real one.”

-

And the Narrator would say, “I haven't stopped thinking about them since you nabbed every last one.”

And the Narrator would say, “science tells us that it's impossible to forget your third time doing anything.”

And the Narrator would say, “No, no I'm not ready to move on! Stop the loading screen!”

-

“And I'm trying to tell him this. That in this world he can never be anything but an observer. That as long as he remains here, he's slowly killing himself. But he won't listen to me. He won't stop.”

-

And the Narrator would say, “We'll do the Memory Zone again from the opposite direction! See how that feels!”

And the Narrator would say, “I want to keep going! What else is there? What came before this?”

And the Narrator would say, “And before everything else, there was your office.”

And he would pause, and then wonder aloud, to nobody in particular, because nobody would be there, “Was there anything else?”

There must have been. He was sure of it. He was sure there was something, or perhaps someone. But that couldn't have been right, you see, because if there was someone, then he wouldn't be alone. He wouldn't be talking to himself, someone would be listening to him. Someone would hear him. That's what—that's what Stanley was for!

But Stanley wasn't doing that. Stanley had not done that for a long time. Had he imagined Stanley? He must have. He imagined many things, after all. Yes, he must have made Stanley up, to listen to him, to have a companion. It's terribly lonely, after all, being a voice without an ear.

Maybe he should move on. Try something else. Maybe that would be for the best. But—oh, but Stanley made him so terribly happy. Just like those wonderful figurines. He loved to think about Stanley's adventures, he loved telling his story so much. Just like the figurines, he'd have to indulge himself.

Just one more time.

-

Just one more time.

-

Just one more time.

-

“It was such a wonderful fantasy. And so in his head he relived it again, and then again, and again, over and over, wishing beyond hope that it would never end. That he might always feel this free. Surely there's an answer down some new path, mustn't there be? Perhaps if he played just one more time.”

-

And the end was never the end. Was never the end. Was never the end.

-

Can you see? Can you see how much they need one another?

-

“I'm sorry, Stanley,” the Narrator says again, sorrowful. “When the game reset, everything was saved. The sequel content, but also the things I found myself saying during the interim. It's all here, somewhere. It's all my fault.”

So he never left?

“Never.”

And Stanley hadn't dragged him from his happy ending?

“No.”

He slumps further against the door. A hand absently lifts and scrubs at his face. So he's just stupid.

“No, I don't think so,” the fellow says generously. “I think you're hurting, understandably so. I think the Parable seeks out ways for us to try to make the other miserable, so that we will keep trying to control each other. You know the song and dance.”

Where it cannot find conflict, it will manifest it.

“Yes. We've been here before, haven't we?”

They have.

-

I asked you, before, how they overcome it. I told you they'd made a battle into a dance instead. How do they do it? How do they choose to progress when the wheel turns ever back?

But you already know the answer. You've already seen it. Don't you remember?

We've been here before.

-

“Stanley, I'm not going to hurt you.”

-

He didn’t want Stanley to be scared of him.

-

“Whatever it is, we can figure it out together.”

-

[ New path, new story. Just me and Stanley. ]

-

If Stanley gave him context, he could get to the memory himself?

-

“I—I can’t recall if I’ve said it before, how grateful I am to you, Stanley.”

-

This time, by the time the hold music has kicked on, Stanley is on the floor, laughing so hard his sides hurt.

-

[ Don't ever. Call yourself DADDY. Again. ]

-

Did he just pull up a calculator?

-

He’s listening. He’s listening, and listening, letting his friend know that they exist, together, the space between them closing again, and for as long as he can he won’t let the narrator be alone in the void.

-

The unwavering strength in his voice feels like an untapped well of passion. Like he’s working to fuel them both through this damnable path, letting Stanley know that yes, yes, they are moving towards something, he has not abandoned him.

-

“Please listen. This is important to me, alright? It’s not your fault.”

-

Stanley's fist has loosened and relaxed against the door. Now it rests there, gently curled, as he thinks.

They have been here a long time, in this game, and he is tired.

So now what?

“Well, now I think I'll close the figurines exhibit, so something like this doesn't happen again.”

The Narrator's voice is rather cool and detached. It lacks distress. It's professional. Words stated in the same way as a script, memorized by heart. Stanley doesn't like it.

He presses his hand flat to the door and rests his temple against it. It's cool against his face.

And after that?

“That's up to you, isn't it?”

Quite without meaning to, Stanley flinches again. The Narrator nearly speaks, before he cuts himself off, seeming to think better of it.

It's hard on the spirit, to be the one who has to make choices. Thinking of what they might mean, what the consequences could mean for others. Certainly, there's power in making decisions, but with that power comes the burden of responsibility. Include the added ordeal of being the one who remembers every consequence, every outcome, and one is left with the distinct feeling that they are being punished. There is no winning here. There is no gaining the upper hand.

He is so tired of making choices.

“Then, perhaps I could convince you to listen to me, and follow direction, for a few minutes.”

Something prickles in the back of Stanley's head in old familiar irritability. He doesn't want to do the story. He doesn't think he can get up.

“I didn't say anything about doing the story, now, did I, Stanley? Close your eyes.”

An innocent enough direction. He obeys, adjusting his position against the door to lean his back against it, hands in his lap.

“Good. Very good, Stanley.”

Still all professionalism. Still lacking familiarity, or anything more than casual approval.

“Now. Take a deep breath. Good. Now let it out, slowly. There you are. Again.”

His breathing steadies and his heart slows. Tiredness gives way to calm.

“Excellent. Now. I'm going to speak, and you're going to listen. That's it. No choices, no paths. Just my voice, and your ear.”

That's not a game.

“No, it isn't. It's a story, and you're my audience. Now. Quiet your mind, there's a good lad.

This is a story about my very good friend Stanley.”

-

“Stanley's had a rough go of it in his life. He likes simple things, like pushing buttons, and drinking coffee completely black. This isn't to say Stanley is a simple-minded fellow, oh no, not at all. In fact, Stanley is one of the most intelligent and compassionate people I know.

The problem is that, for all that Stanley prefers simplicity, he's been put into an impossible position. He's a protagonist of a story.

Now, everyone knows that the best stories aren't the ones where things just happen to a protagonist, but instead the ones where the protagonist plays an active role in progressing the plot. Making choices that result in changing the direction of a story, towards its climax and resolution. It's all well and good that Hansel and Gretel have been left in the middle of the forest, but they choose to be clever and leave a trail of pebbles behind them, before being forced to resort to breadcrumbs—and then of course the choice to use breadcrumbs changes the trajectory of their tale.

The truth is that being a protagonist is anything but simple. Quite without his permission, Stanley has become inundated with responsibility. It isn't an easy life, and it can quite honestly be an unfair lot to give to the fellow.

But if you ask me, there's nobody better suited to the job.

Now, perhaps this is unfair of me to say. After all, I'm not the one who has to make the decisions. All I have to do is tell his story, as a passive observer. Look at him, look at how he struggles, doesn't this make for an incredible tale of overcoming odds? I of course will never have to shoulder the burden he does, so I can say what I please without any regard to his own well-being. Oh, don't give me that look, Stanley, you and I both know it's true. I wouldn't want to be in your shoes if I were paid to do it.

Yet I've been watching Stanley for quite frankly a ridiculous amount of time, so long one might call me an absolute creep. It's true! And so I feel I am at liberty to say that, for all that it's an unfair position to be put in, and a terrible burden to carry, there's nobody who carries it like Stanley does.

You see, he makes every choice to the best of his ability. He thinks about its ramifications to the best of his knowledge, and does his best to consider what his decision might mean in the long run. Take this recent choice, for example. He's decided to listen to me, for a few minutes, even though it's in his very nature to take action and to disagree, because he knows that I asked him to. He's chosen to compromise, despite the fact I could press an advantage.

He's done so, because he knows in his heart and in his mind that I care about him. I want him to be happy. He knows, based off prior knowledge and based on his own gut feeling, that listening to me will make him feel better, because he matters to me.

And this is a simple choice, deceptively so, but in its simplicity it is a perfect example of what I'm trying to convey—

That Stanley does everything to the best of his ability, with all the care he can muster, and that no one could ever judge him poorly for doing the best he can.”

-

Stanley doesn't know when he started crying again, body wracked with the force of it. It's quiet, at least. When the Narrator stops speaking, he still feels him all around, comfort on every side.

Does he mean it? Does he really—?

“Of course I mean it,” the voice huffs, faux offense warm in his ear. “Don't you know by now that I mean what I say? Don't you—“ it wavers a little, before pushing on, a touch shakier. “Don't you know how much you mean to me?”

He cries. The sigh is fond, and gentle.

“You're alright, darling. It's alright.”

-

Taijitu. Balance between black and white. The symbol didn't always have the two dots, you know. In the original concept, yin and yang symbolized stillness and activeness of all things in the universe, respectively. The substance of the universe moves as an active force, until it reaches its limit and becomes still; and yet even that stillness reaches a limit, and becomes active again. The dots, added during the Ming Dynasty, have since their inception been a portrayal of how one will always be the source of the other, and so both will always exist. There will always be an interconnected, interwoven, powerful bond between these two forces in flux.

Which doesn't mean much, to those of us who don't study Taoist philosophy or history. Most of us just appreciate the duality of opposites, who cannot help but have a grain of commonality. One does not and cannot overtake the other. Round and round they go, an endless chase.

Or, one might note, a dance between partners. Momentum carried through. Weight supported. Stepping in sync.

The wheel turns, as do the dancers. This is how they succeed. When one slips back, the other grabs them by the hand and guides them forward with the grace that's only gained through years of practice and familiarity. The wheel turns without catching, and neither are caught under its grind, because they're standing on its face, using it as the platform on which they perform only for each other.

-

Stanley dries his eyes and wipes his nose. He's sorry for causing such a mess.

“Please, I've seen you do worse and we both know it. Remember the time you threw every chair and box out the window to see if you could make a ladder back up into the office?”

He laughs weakly. Not one of his brightest moments, admittedly. The Narrator had threatened to navlock every last item in the office down if he tried it again, after.

“Which, of course, only motivated you to try again.”

Yeah. Because he's a bastard.

“That you are, Stanley.” The Narrator chuckles. “Now, up you get. Up, up!” he reinforces, while Stanley sluggishly gets to his feet. “I have a surprise for you!”

Oh boy. That can only be good, he's sure.

He's led through the office to the TSP 2 Expo sign, which has returned to take the place of door 416 for good, it seems. When the Narrator guides him through the display environment, he takes care not to rush Stanley, since the thin monitors and patterned carpet delight him more than he ever thought possible, but it's also clear the fellow is eager to get a move on, to show Stanley something he's sure will knock his socks off.

So when Stanley gets to the Jump circle, displaying twenty-one jumps left, he's distinctly unimpressed.

“Just trust me,” the Narrator says, with nothing but earnestness.

And so he does. He steps into the circle.

“Jump!”

With a barely-there smile, and a roll of his eyes, Stanley jumps.

And then the game resets.

THEENDISNEVERTHEENDISNEVERTHEENDISLOADING

Stanley blinks, looking at his computer monitor, then up. Uh... What?

“Stanley,” the voice says slyly, “when have I ever given you reason to doubt me?”

“Now. Jump.”

Stanley's eyes widen. He blinks.

And then he jumps.

He jumps again.

And again.

And then Stanley begins to laugh, utterly befuddled and delighted and surprised and joyful, and the Narrator begins to laugh as well, and the wheel spins on, and so do they.

[bettyfrommars]

oh my oh my oh my... I'm here to break the rules...

S3 and E1, &, 🖤💙

:3

I'm awaiting your wrath

oh Somna you sneaky little gremlin you! absolutely anything for you

your People are nightmare!Steve and gargoyle!Eddie

your Place is Dealer's Choice, so I'm giving you Thrift Store

your Things are a Photograph and a Mixtape

word count: 800

18+ONLY, no major warnings just nightmares, Steddie-ish, mention of migraines, monsters, taxidermy. I write these fast and post them without much fuss in an effort to not get too precious about things and just have fun, I love you for reading. Also, I have at least 30 of these asks sitting in my drafts, but this might be my last one for a while.

pick your poison

You'd walked down that same street a million times when the glass storefront with the sign Lost & Found on the door appeared out of nowhere one day. You were certain there'd been nothing but an alleyway in that space the day before.

A bell above the door dinged when you went in, heralding your arrival with an exceptionally shrill clanging that reverberated off your skull. For a second you feared it might trigger another migraine.

"Can I help you find anything?" Steve said from behind the desk, peeking around a tall stack of books, adjusting his thick, tortoiseshell glasses. Behind him was an old Zenith box television showcasing nothing but static.

"Um," you felt suddenly overwhelmed by the shelves of oddities stuffed into the small space, not sure where to look when your eyes landed on what appeared to be a taxidermied squirrel with tiny fangs.

"No, I think I'll just look around if that's alright," you pivoted to avoid a mound of used shoes that were piled up to your hip. At a glance, none of them came in pairs.

"I moved the mixtapes over by the radios," he shuffled around to come out from behind the desk, a familiar glint in his eye. "Found a few new ones since last time."

You assumed maybe he thought you were someone else, so you didn't try to correct him. Must've been a coincidence that he knew about your affection for music relics from another age.

"Where did you find all these?" You asked a few minutes later, pawing through the bins of personalized tapes in in awe. There were handwritten lists of songs and notes inside the hard plastic covers, along with drawings and names on the spines. "For Terry, Love Emily" and "Favorite Metal Mix" along with different bands and titles to the collections.

You picked up a bright neon Memorex tape to inspect the songs on it penned in blue ink with a curious smile on your face. Steve came up behind you and stood with his hands in his pockets. He smelled good, like honeysuckle, sawdust, and freshly mowed grass.

"People lose things and I find them," he said with a shrug. "Have you lost anything? I might have it."

You turned to him then, and really took the time to appreciate the details of his face. The square of his jaw, the curve of his mouth, and the moles dotting down his flesh.

"We've met before, haven't we?"

He shifted his weight forward, leaning into your personal space with the ease of someone who had been there many times before.

"Are you lost? Do you need to be found?"

Something flashed in his eyes, something dark. Sinister, even. But it didn't make you afraid, it gave you comfort, like the thrill of entering a haunted house when you've paid to be scared.

You went back to rifling through the tapes before moving on to turn the knobs on the radios, and then check out the cameras. Some still had film in then, some were broken, and one was a folding Polaroid Land Camera with a processed photo next to it.

The image edged in white was of a magnificent gargoyle in a red rose garden with its head down and wings pinned to its sides. Chiseled muscles and clawed hands. The statue had long dark hair and wore what looked like a guitar pick on a chain around its neck.

"He's beautiful," you whispered, turning the photo over to see if there was any description on the back.

"He's a pain in my ass," Steve mumbled, slamming a few books into their respective slots on the nearby bookshelf.

"Why is that?" His annoyed tone made you chuckle, craning your neck to see where he went.

"Look at the photo again," he said with his back to you.

You did as you were told, struck with confusion to find that there was no longer a statue in the garden. You blinked a few times, thinking it might've been a trick of the light.

"Well, that doesn't make any sense. Where did it---"

"Now look behind you," Steve crossed his arms to lean against the bookshelf, waiting.

You turned, expecting to find another photo or something else besides...

Your blood ran cold at the gargoyle man standing an arm's length away.

He was naked, with lips the same slate gray as his skin, and his black eyes sought yours for reassurance.

"Eddie will you please cut it out?" Steve put his hands on his hips. "You're going to scare all of my customers away."

"Eddie," you cocked your head. "Is that your name?"

He offered one long nod, bowing his head to you, wings twitching.

"He won't hurt you," Steve assured softly. "He loves you as much as I do.

[onthewaytosomewhere]

Sunday - yeah sentences & last line challenge cuz i'm lazy and doing them all in one

so i've been tagged by some lovely peeps @england-would-fall @taste-thewaste @firenati0n @piratefalls

So I need to get this thing done - as it has been lamenting on my drive waiting for me to just finish it already - and stop playing around with all the other fics so I'm posting it in hopes that might encourage me to get it frakkin' done already - and i wasted hours this afternoon tracking down one detail lol - but hey that's what happens i guess lol

So this is what I have lovingly been calling gotta sign 'em all - it's a little thing inspired by TZP and his fascination with signing a little book (and well, with him being so ACD-coded it just fits) it's a lot more than 6 or 7 sentences but i just need to get some of it out in the ether

They are nearing the end, both of Henry’s ability to continue and the line of people with books for him to sign, when the girl whose book Henry just signed peeks behind him at Alex. She turns the book to the dedication page and gestures towards Alex. “Mr. Claremont-Diaz,” and fuck if that doesn’t make him feel old, but the girl can’t be more than 13, so he sucks it up. “Would you be willing to sign the dedication page of my book? Your story helped me come out as bisexual to my parents; they’re from the US, and my father’s Mexican family is very Catholic. Seeing you have family of similar background who support you after everything happened to you made me hope mine could be as well.” Alex feels Henry’s hand grab his and squeeze it. This is one of the things that still amazes him: how in sync they are with each other. How even though Henry is drained from a taxing day, Henry is there to support Alex unequivocally. He nods to her and reaches for her book. He takes a deep, centering breath and squeezes Henry’s hand once quickly before letting it go with a smile so he can sign. Henry hands him the Sharpie he has taken to carrying in his inner jacket pockets, and he grips the pen, looking back to the girl in front of him. “I am just floored that my story—our story,” he says, gesturing between himself and Henry, because his story is and always will be intertwined with Henry’s, ever since they first started this, “gave you the courage to be yourself. I hope it all went well with your family.” The girl nods, and Alex sees the wet sheen to her eyes, the tears she is attempting to hold back, and blinks to keep his own at bay. “Yes, it did, thank you,” her smile wobbles a little as she responds, and Alex moves the conversation on for all of them. “Who am I making this out to?” Alex asks, pen poised above the page, ready to sign. He pauses a moment to read the dedication he has memorized as she gives her name.  [insert sappy – probably not good enough – dedication to Alex - probably something about you and me always maybe breaking down walls] He writes her name in the book, adds a few lines about bisexual solidarity, and signs his name with a flourish. He hands the book back to her, and she looks at the page, smiling at his words. Alex is not the most self-aware man, and he’ll admit this, but even he knows that moment has him feeling things he didn’t think it would.

oh i also got a few of last line tags yesterday so here goes for that too

He decides to help her out and says, “Hey, I see you got your copy of Henry’s book; glad ya got one before the vultures at that shelter swooped in.”

so some no-pressure Sunday tags and well if ya already posted let's just assume ya had an open tag that i snagged and i'll find it lol @adreamareads @anincompletelist @bitbybitwrites @dragonflylady77 @duchessdepolignaca03 @firstsprinces @forever-fixating @heybuddy-drabbles @hgejfmw-hgejhsf (hope ya had a good time in austin Val! (at least i assume based on wednesdays post that's wehre ya were)) @inexplicablymine @itsmaybitheway @junebugclaremontdiaz @kiwiana-writes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @magicandarchery @nocoastposts @priincebutt @sophie1973 @stellarm @sunnysideprince @suseagull04 @typicalopposite and an open tag

[pandenewie]

14 - Real Men Clean Bathrooms

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AN: I’m back !! I will be back to my regular posting schedule from now on :))

WARNING: She's a little suggestive...

Jungwon has been called Wonnie most of his life… by his older sister, his parents, and his older friends when they’re trying to tease him… even the lady next door whenever he walks her dog or takes out her trash. Despite hearing the nickname from so many people, nothing will come close to the gentle flutter his heart feels whenever it slips past Y/n’s lips.

“Wonnie!” Y/n calls for what seems like the tenth time, poking his dimple to get his attention. A small habit they’ve started recently. Jungwon finally snaps out of his thoughts, remembering that Y/n is, in fact, standing right in front of him. “Oh, sorry uh… what were you saying again?” Jungwon asks sheepishly. He really didn’t mean to space out, it’s just that spending more than a minute in Y/n’s presence causes him to lose his train of thought.

“Mr Kim told me to talk to you. I’ve got detention again and he said I need to use that time to help out around the school or something.” Y/n shrugs. Jungwon can’t help the downturn of his mouth at the mention of yet another detention. They’ve been getting those a lot lately. “Um… I’ll have to check what the council is currently working on. It’s probably just cleaning desks and picking up litter though.” Jungwon says, grabbing his laptop out of his bag to check the minutes from the last council meeting.

Y/n leans over curiously, watching as he taps away on the laptop. “Is there anything you wanna do in particular?” He asks, scrolling through the list of volunteer work for the council. Y/n pretends to think for a moment, tapping a finger against their chin for added effect. “I’ll do whatever you’re doing.” 

If Jungwon wasn't already blushing, he certainly is now. "Um… I'm just cleaning out the out-of-order bathrooms… making sure they're ready to be renovated. It's pretty boring." Jungwon mumbles. It does sound boring… but Y/n's eyes light up nonetheless.

"You mean our spot?" They ask excitedly, causing Jungwon's eyebrows to furrow. "Our spot?" He asks. Since when did they have a spot? That feels like something he would definitely remember. "It’s where we skipped class together, don't tell me you forgot already?" Y/n pouts. Of course, he didn't forget! He could probably remember every interaction he's ever had with Y/n. He just assumed that Y/n didn't… or at the least, never thought about it.

"I mean… you can clean with me if you want. It's a pretty big job though. Hence why the other council members are doing easier stuff."

That made Y/n angrier than expected. Of course, Jungwon would get stuck doing the most difficult task by himself, while the rest of the council runs around picking up rubbish. God, if Y/n could name another member, they would definitely be going in their death note.

"I'll stick with you." Y/n says, surprising even themself with how genuine the words sound. Jungwon seems surprised too, his eyes widening slightly as the tip of his ears turn a pinkish red. He mumbles a quiet thanks before quickly typing Y/n's name next to his on the task sheet.

"Was this place always such a dump?" Y/n asks, looking around the small room in disgust. There's graffiti all over the walls and mirrors and the floors are covered in rubbish and drywall. Even one of the toilet stalls has had the door ripped off its hinges.

"Believe it or not, this is the better of the two." Jungwon sighs. "I'm pretty sure the girl’s bathroom has rats." He adds, causing Y/n's face to screw up at the thought.

The bathrooms certainly didn't look like this when the two were last in here. That was only a few weeks ago.

"How did it even get this bad?" Y/n asks, pulling a pen out of their pocket and walking towards the discarded stall door. Jungwon watches curiously as they crouch down, scribbling something on the piece of metal.

"Because people do things like that." Jungwon sighs, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling developing in his stomach at the "Jungwon and Y/n were here" outlined in a heart.

Jungwon actually starts to get to work as Y/n continues to look around. After a few minutes, they let out a small gasp - gaining Jungwon's attention once more. 

"Omg, I forgot about this!" Y/n exclaims, pulling Jungwon towards the scribbles on the wall. He looks at Y/n confused so they elaborate. "It's a list of everyone who hooked up here." This doesn't help. "In the bathroom?" Jungwon asks, his nose scrunching in disgust. "You'd be surprised. It's a pretty common make out spot." Y/n smirks, making sure to send Jungwon a playful wink in the process.

"Have you made out with someone here?" Jungwon asks, the question coming out a little louder and more urgent than he expected. Y/n can't help the smirk that spreads across their face. They place their hand under their chin, tapping repeatedly as they pretend to think. "Once or twice? I don't know… check the list." Y/n teases.

Jungwon doesn't want to look at the list - scared of what names he'll see engraved next to Y/n's. Scared of what feelings will come over him once he puts a face to the people who have been with Y/n. People he can only dream of being. But his restraint is limited and before he knows it, he finds his eyes quickly scanning the scratchy list of names.

It's not that bad. At least that's what Jungwon tries to tell himself. There's a handful of names written alongside Y/n's - mainly those who have already graduated, with a few from their current year level. It's not that bad. But Jungwon can't stop the bubbling feeling of jealousy that begins to form in the pit of his stomach.

"Find your answer?" Y/n asks in a teasing manner, despite their attention now being placed on picking up rubbish. Jungwon hums quietly, his eyes scanning the list once more before he gets back to work. "You're on there a lot." He mumbles, earning a scoff from Y/n. "You're slut-shaming me?" Jungwon stiffens for a moment but relaxes once more when he sees that Y/n is joking. "More like judging your hook up spot."

This comment causes Y/n to gasp in feigned offence. "Excuse me? How dare you judge the fine art of bathroom make outs?" Jungwon laughs slightly at this. "I'd hardly call kissing in the corner of a trash-filled bathroom a fine art." He gestures around the room to prove his point. 

"That is exactly how I know you've never kissed in here." Y/n jokes, causing Jungwon to sheepishly rub the back of his neck. "Why do you say that?" He asks, laughing awkwardly. "Well, first of all, your name’s not on the list." Y/n points out. Jungwon goes to mumble something about it being the destruction of property but is quickly interrupted. “Secondly, you've been blushing this entire conversation.” Y/n continues, taking the chance to quickly poke Jungwon's dimple. "And thirdly, you don't just kiss in the corner. That's where the spiders are. The basin is much more comfortable."

Jungwon struggles to hide his shock as he chokes on his saliva. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the basin. “Need a demonstration?” Y/n asks, smirking. Before Jungwon can even comprehend a response (at least one that wouldn’t result in him embarrassing himself) Y/n is already pushing the remaining trash and drywall off the basin and onto the floor. Jungwon watches in half shock, half amusement as Y/n lifts themself up onto the now clear basin.

“So whoever you’re making out with would sit here. You’ve just gotta be careful of the tap because let me tell you, hitting your tailbone on that hurts like a bitch.” Jungwon’s not sure when this turned into a walk-through but he watches carefully anyway as Y/n playfully smiles at him.

Jungwon loves their smile - even though most times he’s seen it has been when they’re teasing him. He still loves the way it sits proudly on their face, the way their eyes shimmer and crinkle the wider the grin spreads. He also loves the smile that they show when they don’t think he’s looking. The genuine one, given only to those close enough to deserve it. Jungwon hopes to one day be one of those people.

Amidst his trance, Y/n decides to begin the next part of their tutorial. They quickly reach out to grab Jungwon by the collar of his shirt, pulling him in so that he’s standing between their legs. Being caught off guard, Jungwon presses his hands tightly against the basin on either side of Y/n, catching himself in order to not fall completely on top of them.

“This is where you would stand.” Y/n says innocently as if the position they are now in isn’t entirely suggestive. Jungwon is stunned. Being this close to Y/n brings back all the memories from the library - the way their warm skin felt beneath his cautious touch. Jungwon needs to stop this, for his own sanity.

“We should keep cleaning.” Jungwon mumbles, avoiding eye contact in fear that Y/n’s eyes could convince him to stay. Convince him to do things he most definitely shouldn’t be doing. “I’m just helping, Wonnie. It’s educational.” Y/n pouts, bringing their hands to rest gently on top of Jungwon's. The sudden touch causes his eyes to shoot up to meet Y/n’s.

His first mistake.

Now that they know Jungwon’s attention is fully on them, Y/n continues with their “lesson”. “There’s a lot of different places you could put your hands, depending on what you’re feeling. Most common would be my hips.” Y/n states, bringing Jungwon’s hands to follow their words. “You could also press a hand against the mirror behind me if you need the support.” The add. Jungwon stays silent, the only sound being that of his breathing - which is growing heavier by the minute.

“Any questions so far?” Y/n asks, holding Jungwon’s hands firmly against their hips. Jungwon doesn’t know what to say - doesn’t want to speak in fear of ruining the mood. But in classic Jungwon fashion, he can feel himself responding to Y/n’s question before he can even think. “What if you fall in the sink?”

His second mistake.

Y/n stifles a laugh, which causes Jungwon to blush slightly with embarrassment. “I’d hope you would catch me.” Y/n whispers, bringing one of their hands up to gently push at Jungwon’s chest. “But I would also hold onto you, that way if I do slip, you’ll be able to hold me up…” Y/n trails off, wrapping their arms securely around Jungwon’s neck. They make sure to gently play with some of the hair there, earning a slight but definitely noticeable shudder from Jungwon. “And all that would be left to do is kiss.” Y/n mumbles, blatantly staring at Jungwon’s lips. 

The two are silent for a second as the reality of the situation begins to set in. Y/n glances back up at Jungwon’s eyes, smiling cheekily at him. Jungwon’s eyes ever so slightly flicker down to Y/n’s lips. A move so quick, that if Y/n weren’t looking directly into his eyes, they most likely would have missed it. But with the close proximity of their faces and Y/n’s apparent love for eye contact, the tiny glimpse does not go unnoticed.

His third mistake. 

Jungwon continues to make a few more decisions that could be considered mistakes. Such as the mistake of leaning in as Y/n brings their lips closer to his. The mistake of tightening his grip on Y/n’s hips as they pull him closer to their body, adjusting the angle so their lips lock together just right. The mistake of opening his mouth when Y/n’s tongue gently brushes against his bottom lip. And many, many more.

Kissing Y/n is something Jungwon thought he could only ever dream of doing. But as Y/n’s hand tugs gently on his hair - bringing him even closer into their hold and pulling him into yet another kiss, it finally starts to sink in exactly what he’s doing.

Jungwon should be overjoyed. But an over-looming feeling of confusion starts to wash over him, the longer his lips stay intertwined with Y/n’s. In his experiences, people kiss him because they see him as more than a friend. With Y/n, he can’t even tell if they see him as a friend. In a few weeks, they’d gone from absolutely hating his guts, to kissing him in an abandoned bathroom. The sudden switch up makes Jungwon feel like he’s got whiplash.

A sudden commotion of people in the halls causes Jungwon to quickly pull away from Y/n’s lips. The teachers are talking about him - likely wandering the halls in an attempt to track him down and ask for some help. He mentally battles with himself on what to do. Getting caught making out in the bathrooms by teachers is embarrassing for any student, let alone Jungwon. It’d do wonders to his reputation - not in a good way. But on the other hand, he will likely never get the chance to be this close to Y/n again.

Y/n can practically see the dilemma on his face and reaches forward to gently peck his lips. “Go do your job, Prez.” They whisper, reaching up to poke his cheek once more. Jungwon gulps, mumbling a quick apology before stepping away from Y/n completely.

That’s how Y/n finds themself sitting alone in the abandoned bathrooms - the feeling of Jungwon still fresh on their lips despite him being gone for almost 10 minutes now. Jungwon’s not the only one feeling confused, as they sit there wondering what the hell just happened. Kissing him was certainly not part of the original plan. But they suppose if it’ll help with convincing Jungwon to change the dress code… there’s nothing wrong with getting something extra along the way.

TAG LIST (closed): @kang-yeosangs-initials @kpopstanmeg @b1ndignity @soobiverse @dudufodd @mikadorbs @pagesofmiracles @tya0 @ilovewonyo @bringer-ofchaos @huening-ly @ifearjwn @callmeblondie @run2min @straykids-riley (can't tag) @rikimylove @chaechae-23 @lacimolela @n1ght-maring (can't tag) @luvvsjungwonn @yenqa @tzuyusluv @viyqe @vocaloshin @deadgirlwalking3 @flamiricky @hanniesss @grayscorner @wonqr @neozon3nha @beomgyusonlywife @ahnneyong

[oc-poll-tournament]

So, I'll Try To Make This A Thing!

There is enough interest from the poll on my other blog that I want to try and see if this will work! I don't have tons of time because of school, but I already go on Tumblr anyway, so might as well have something to host while I'm at it, lol. So, I'll try and host this thing.

Rules: Whoever is interested, please submit 1-2 original characters (from fanfic or original writing) for the tournament (if you want to group them together, please let me know, if not, I'll just have them be separate), either by messaging this blog, submitting to this blog, sending an ask to this blog, or reblogging this post and putting the information there! I will ask that you also submit your introduction to the character that you want on the poll post at the same time, and that once the poll is live, you can submit propaganda via ask or submission that I'll publish.

Since I do have school, I ask that everyone be patient. I might not be able to respond right away to everything, but I'll try to be as on time as possible! You'll have a week to submit, so submissions close January 16 at 12 pm Central time! I'll try to have a preliminary post with the characters in their brackets (if I use brackets) by sometime the next day. Also, please, if you have any ideas or suggestions, please let me know! I have never done this before, lol. Would you rather have the polls last one day or one week?

I'll try to update this post with links and extra things I think about, and this post will be pinned so it'll be easy to find! Also, I am planning on having a character in this as well, so I hope that's ok!

Here are links to the active polls:

Final Poll: (Chess vs. Crislie Crimsworth vs. Nat Finch)

Answers to questions I have gotten:

Characters can be from anything you've worked on: fanfic, WIP, or finished/published work, as long as they are an original character of yours!

Submissions should include some information about your character, preferably name, pronouns, any unique features, and backstory, but it can be as long or short as you'd like! I'll put that information on the poll post for voters to see! And if you have a picture (picrew, drawing, etc.), please send that along with your submission so I can put it on the poll post as well!

Propaganda will be allowed to submit for your character when the poll is active, but bribes will not be allowed.

So far, I am thinking of having the polls be random, where I put the characters in a random wheel spin and put them in polls against each other based on that. So, probably no brackets. I just like the idea that it'll be completely random!

For a prize, @somealienquill graciously offered to draw a portrait sketch of the winner!

Blogs who showed interest on the poll post are tagged below the cut:

@albatris, @maple-writes, @pen-of-roses, @waltzshouldbewriting, @lux-scriptum, @ibuprofen-exe, @your-absent-father, @abalonetea, @grailfish, @jfictitional, @drabbleitout, @izzyspussy, @flannelandsarcasm, @gailynovelry, @inscrutable-shadow, @sevenscreaminglizards

[rosannadrinkstoforget]

It's official. I'm back in my dnp phase!

My pen name is Rosanna, I'm from the US, I'm 19 about to be 20 and in college.

I'm actually coming back to the community, started watching back in 2014-15 I think. I've been a writer for various different fandoms but my most recent became really toxic and I ended up orphaning over 100k words of fics and haven't written consistently since spring 2021.

I've been lurking for years on Tumblr and never posted but I'll share what I write on ao3 over here!