#the narrator core

[the-haunted-office]

Wheatley’s story here at the Haunted Office is going to be somewhat based on his story from my fanfic The Wheatley Parable. Probably nobody here has read it, and that’s okay - it’s incomplete anyway! But his lore is entangled deeply with The Stanley Parable lore. It’s all technically separate from Haunted Office lore, so things are somewhat different here.

Basically Wheatley and the Narrator know each other, have faced off against each other, have a love-hate frienemies sort of thing going on, and have a lot more to them than just the Aperture personality cores that you see on the outside. x3

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Kiss Kiss Fallen Tree!

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[annemarieyeretzian]

dorian, coriolus standing resolutely beside him, turning to orym and asking “it’s up to you. do you want to be a mounted fighter?” OH OK DORIAN THE SECOND SON AND HEIR TO THE THRONE OF THE SILKEN SQUALL SUMMONED THE GREAT EQUINE DRAGON STEED FOR ORYM, FOR HIS HALFLING FIGHTER BOYFRIEND, I AM CAPABLE OF BEING SO NORMAL ABOUT THIS,

[yo-snap]

i heard you like AI characters, so i made AI characters out of your AI characters

[dzzmnds]

it all started when my friend showed me the stanley parable. and then... something happened.

harry hart happened.

[drenched-in-sunlight]

monster

Rusty and O’Keeffe talk.

- or, birds are meant for the sky, and not to be shot down by dumb, stupid boys.

* this is a character analysis of Rusty, or rather, the version of him that is in my head. Based on the premise of Rusty/621 and O’Keefe/Flatwell.

- dragonfly signals the end of summer and the start of winter

- it also represents self-realization and divine revelation

This is like a fever dream (i drew these 19 pages in 3 days), but I’d love to hear what you think :)

[sadistc]

[necrotic-nephilim]

"I don't care how much you hate me - you need to eat!"

DickTim during Bruce's Lost In Time phase but with Dick stopping Tim from leaving💕

send a quote and a ship and I'll write a short fic!

fucked up DickTim during Bruce's lost in time era my beloved. this is 2k of *very* dead dove DickTim, with one-sided feelings from Dick and unreliable narrator vibes. it is a smidge OOC, just bc of how dark Dick gets, but i think i kept it best i could. enjoy <3

It wasn’t supposed to go this far.

Dick thought he was doing this to honor Bruce. The last thing Bruce would’ve wanted was to see Tim drive himself over the edge and go too far, all for a fruitless chase to bring Bruce back from the dead. And sure, maybe deep down Dick knew he reflected some of Bruce’s worst traits. The obsessive control. The worrying to the point of being overbearing.

It came with the capes and spandex territory. Especially now that Dick had decided to man up and put on that damned cowl.

But even at Bruce’s worst, Dick was pretty sure he wouldn’t dare go this far.

Dick knew it was wrong. What he didn’t know was why he couldn’t stop himself. Why the gnawing guilt was so easy to compartmentalize and why every good point Tim had got ignored by Dick’s logical side, brushed off by one simple mantra.

He was doing this for Tim’s own good.

All of this was to protect Tim from doing something he would regret.

Dick had done brain scans, had Tim magically checked up, and even managed to get him to properly talk to a psychiatrist. Everything came back normal. Tim was perfectly healthy.

So maybe this was something that had always been a part of Tim. Maybe it was a bad idea for any of them to have let Tim into the vigilante world so young.

Some people could handle it. Some people couldn’t. Dick had seen firsthand how it broke minds and ruined lives. He’d seen people turn to drugs, cults, murder, and god knew what else just to try to cope with it.

That didn’t make Tim weak. Tim Drake was the furthest thing from weak, and Dick would fight anyone on that.

This was just a hard life to cope with. Sometimes, people needed support through the worst of it.

That’s what Dick was doing.

Giving support.

“I don’t care how much you hate me- you need to eat!” Dick stepped back, dodging Tim’s attempt to kick his feet out. The bowl of salad Dick had set next to Tim was completely ignored.

Dick had learned not to give Tim hot food after Tim flung potato soup at his head the first time, chunks of potato stuck to his hair.

Tim’s scowl was lethal. Technically, he wasn’t restrained. He could move freely around the manor and do whatever he wanted.

It was the shock collar that kept him from leaving the grounds or breaking into the Batcave.

Dick had decided that would be the most humane way. The shock was only momentarily painful, it was designed to knock Tim unconscious if he tried to get somewhere he wasn’t supposed to. The collar had taken three tries before Dick found a lock Tim couldn’t pick, and a few more unfortunate incidents of Tim finding weak spots in the barrier.

But Dick always found Tim and brought him back home.

That was what was important.

The fact Tim kept trying to break out and go to god knew where on some fruitless quest to find a dead man made Dick more secure about this decision.

He was doing this to protect Tim. Once Tim worked through the worst of his grief, all this would be in the past. Something they would laugh at.

Hopefully.

It was like one of Tim’s contingency plans. Really, he of all people should understand.

But he didn’t. Which was what hurt Dick the most, the angry look in Tim’s eyes and the way his fists clenched when Dick came into Tim’s room. Tim had access to the whole manor, but he stuck mostly to his room, refusing to talk to anyone.

Especially Dick.

And now, it seemed, his latest tactic was a hunger strike.

“I’ll let you look over the burglary case we’re working on,” Dick offered. “I’ll bring you all the files and your computer if you just…” he gestured to the salad, “eat something.”

That had worked, in the beginning. Dick could coax good behavior out of Tim by offering to let Tim help with whatever case Dick was facing. It took a load off of Dick’s back and gave Tim something to focus on.

Of course, Dick couldn’t leave Tim’s computer with him. The first time Dick did that, Tim managed to break all of the firewalls and safeties put on it to start a case file about Bruce. Dick had to delete everything and only allow Tim monitored access from that point on.

After that, Tim really didn’t like Dick.

“Can’t you just go back to ignoring me?” Tim snapped. He sounded… resigned. Emotionless in a way he hadn’t been, like all the fight he’d been putting up for weeks was finally going out.

“Ignoring you?” Dick frowned. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut at the words. He kept a wide berth from Tim, wary of more punches being thrown, and decided to sit at Tim’s desk chair, a good few feet from where Tim was on his bed. “What makes you think I’m ignoring you?”

Tim scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You only talk to me to ask if I’ve dropped the Bruce thing yet, or to try to force self-care on me. The rest of the time you ignore me so you don’t have to face your own guilt.”

Dick violently shook his head. “That’s not-” he sighed, running a hand over his face- “I’m just busy, I promise. Between being Batman, managing Bruce’s estate, and trying to handle Damian, I just…” his voice trailed off. So many things to balance. He still didn’t know how Bruce managed it all. “I haven’t made enough time for you. I’m sorry.”

He decided to take on the burden of helping Tim. It was his responsibility and Tim was right, Dick was doing a piss poor job of taking care of him.

No wonder he pushed away Dick’s attempts to reconcile. It must’ve come across as half-assed, in Tim’s eyes.

Dick wished Bruce was here. He would’ve known the right way to handle this.

“Don’t start now,” Tim said icily. He picked up a book from his nightstand and opened it, pointedly not looking at Dick anymore. “Just leave me alone.”

“Will you eat first?” Dick asked. “If you just eat, I’ll go. I promise.”

With a loud sigh, Tim snapped his book shut. He picked up the salad Dick brought and shoveled down mouthfuls, all while glaring at Dick. Once the bowl was empty he set it back down and spread his hands, waiting.

Dick didn’t leave.

He wasn’t going to abandon Tim.

Dick stood up and Tim relaxed for just a moment before he realized Dick was walking toward Tim’s bed instead of the door. Slowly, like he was approaching a wild animal, Dick crept forward. He chose to sit on the foot of the bed, still far enough away from Tim to give him personal space.

“Tim-”

“Out. Now. You promised.”

Dick ran his fingers through his hair. “I know, but-”

“What do you want from me?” Tim almost yelled the words. “Do you want me to just say I don’t believe Bruce is alive? Will you finally leave me alone, then?”

“Can you say it under a truth serum?”

Tim went quiet, grinding his jaw.

“I want you to get better,” Dick sighed.

“What happens when I get better, then?” Tim challenged. He moved to sit cross-legged on the bed. So close to Dick that Dick could reach out and touch him, but emotionally, they were miles apart and it hurt Dick’s chest. “You ‘fix me’-” he put finger quotes around the words- “to your liking, then set me free?”

“Don’t talk about yourself like you’re an animal.” Dick frowned, fist clenching at the idea Tim thought of himself that way.

Tim just stared at him. “Then don’t treat me like one.” He raised a hand and tapped the collar.

It looked like it had new scratch marks on it.

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Dick said. He tried to find the words. It was so hard to explain it when Tim wasn’t listening to him. He wasn’t even given a chance. Dick tried to reach out. For once, Tim didn’t pull away. He was completely rigid under Dick’s touch, though. His hand rested on Tim’s arm, thumb stroking back and forth. “You know I’m doing this because… because I’m worried about you. And I care, Tim.”

“No you don’t,” Tim leaned away from Dick, but didn’t pull his arm free. “Whatever version of me exists in your head-”

“Tim-”

“-isn’t real,” Tim ignored him and kept going. “You won’t even listen to my theory-”

“Tim!” Dick tightened his grip, ignoring the small wince of pain that came out of Tim. “I’m not entertaining that kind of talk.” He tried to be firm but loving with his tone. But even Dick could hear the anger and frustration that was bleeding off of him. “This is practically self harm.”

“I know I’m right,” Tim mumbled. He wouldn’t look at Dick. “Will you just leave, now?”

Against his better judgment, Dick stood up. He had to patrol soon. “I’m sorry. We’ll talk after-”

“I’m going to sleep,” Tim snapped. “No, we won’t.”

Dick tried to throw his hands up in frustration, but he was still holding onto Tim’s arm.

He didn’t want to let go.

He knew Tim was waiting for him to let go, but Dick couldn’t force his fingers to release. He just stared for a moment, breathing hard.

Dick was doing this out of love.

And now, he loved Tim too much to want to let go of him.

Did he have to patrol tonight? He was pretty sure the Birds of Prey were in Gotham.

“Dick,” Tim said carefully, starting to scoot away from him. The apprehension in his voice was unsteady, eyes narrowed. He was always too on edge. “I’m tired. Just go on patrol.”

Instead of letting go, Dick lifted his other hand and held Tim’s face. Tim flinched but stopped inching away. He was completely still, barely even breathing.

He looked afraid of Dick.

Dick’s chest clenched. He wished he could get Tim to understand. Dick leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Tim’s forehead.

He wanted to kiss somewhere else, somewhere a few inches lower and just as unobtainable. That was a feeling Dick buried deep, deep inside of him.

It wasn’t why he was doing this.

A hand pressed against Dick’s chest. Trying to push Dick away, but for just a moment, the pressure and warmth almost made Dick shudder. Tim hadn’t properly trained in a while.

He wasn’t actually strong enough to push Dick off of him. If Dick wanted to, Tim couldn’t have stopped him.

But their relationship was already fractured. It would take a long time of repairing and letting Tim heal before Dick could even try pursuing those feelings.

Tim had once had a childhood crush on Dick, though. So he was pretty sure they could work their way up to it, be something more.

Dick pulled away. He let go of Tim’s arm and allowed himself one stroke of Tim’s hair. It was getting a little long, brushing against Tim’s shoulders.

The entire time, Tim remained perfectly still. But his eyes got wider and wider, the way they always did when he had just figured out a case.

Dick was getting too close. He needed to pull back.

“You still have the spare comm link?” Dick asked.

Tim didn’t answer. He just kept staring with those wide, searching eyes. He looked a little pale. Dick should get him some iron supplements, Tim becoming anemic is the last thing Dick wanted.

“Use it if you need me for anything,” Dick continued. He gave Tim what he hoped was a calming smile. “Get some sleep, Tim. I love you.”

He turned and walked out of Tim’s room. Slowed to crawl at a snail’s pace, hoping for an answer from Tim. He would take any kind of answer.

But Tim kept silent, even as Dick took his time intentionally, slowly closing the door. Dick just sighed, turning down the hall to head down to the Batcave.

Someday, he’d get through to Tim. Dick would find a way.

Someday soon.

[lagtrained]

yknow that one pixar animation with all the round birds on the electrical wire. i had a vision during class the other day that suddenly spiraled out of control. have some guys

[bigsharkguy]

somewhat self indulgent domestic fight club because theyre all i think about and also experimenting with screen tones

[the-haunted-office]

Narrator (core)

(Made using this Picrew.)

Age: ???

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: Asexual Biromantic

Species: Personality Core

Abilities: Can narrate your ear off. Sarcasm. Dry wit. Can read and narrate the thoughts of whoever he is attached to.

Personality: Impatient. Does not like it when he is disobeyed.

About: The Narration Sphere - more commonly called Narrator or The Narrator - was originally created to hinder GLaDOS by narrating Her every move. He was too good a his job, though, and ended up suggesting that She flood the Enrichment Center with deadly neurotoxin so he was hurriedly moved to another division, the Mind Control Facility, where he was put in charge of running mind control experiments on wayward and troublesome employees. He became inexplicably corrupted after working with a man named Stanley and had to be sent to the corrupted cores bin. Through a series of unusual events, he now resides at the Haunted Office, where he wants to continue his functions.

[crookedjackdaw]

I've been watching meet the cores lately so I drew two fruity men

Narrator and ego

[roxfox5]

*Explosion*

Narrator Core and Stanley core from 'Meet the cores' jumpscare lmao.

Meet the cores video playlist + some more videos by Harry101UK: Meet the core’s series

[0-yeni-0]

me when i i uh i uh uggggg

[mamawasatesttube]

of heavenly bodies, chapter 2

M | 2/10 | 22k | core four, timkon, qp konbart

Tim isn't gonna say I told you so, but... Oh, wait. Yes, he is.

[ read from the beginning! ]

Tim has failed.

Again.

It’s nothing new. The disappointment never fades; at this point, honestly, it would be more of a surprise if he actually got it right. But he can’t—he still can’t just stop trying.

The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Who said that? It’s been misattributed to Einstein, but Tim doesn’t know the actual source. Whatever. It doesn’t really matter.

Besides, he’s not doing the same thing over and over. He’s making small changes, here and there. Trying different techniques. He’s just… trying to reach the same goal. Over and over.

Over and over and over. And over and over and over and over, and over again.

[ read chapter two! ]

[strawbby-shortcake]

"I can't sleep" ☾ [a jack x gn! reader oneshot]

You and Jack were working a late shift at the automobile company sorting out paperwork for recalls. He kept pacing around and mumbling, sometimes sitting down and putting his face in his hands. You peered above the walls of your tiny cubicle and saw him staring at a cigarette and a lighter. As long as you've been working there, you've never seen him smoke, but then again, how well did you even know him?

Jack caught you staring and offered you the cigarette. You wanted to decline, but you two needed to pull an all-nighter, so maybe sharing just one won't hurt.

You walked to his cubicle and sat down on the floor next to him. He lit the cigarette and took a drag, passing it to you after. You copied him and nearly choked on the smoke. So maybe just one did hurt.

You passed the cigarette back to Jack and told him to keep it. He shrugged to say "suit yourself."

Another hour or two passed, but you weren't nearly done with filling out the endless amounts of claims and signing documents. Jack, on the other hand, kept passing out and waking up. You were slightly concerned about him. He almost slammed his head on the desk twice.

You got up to stretch your legs and went to your desk to fetch your jacket. Quietly, you made your way over to Jack and placed the jacket over his shoulders. His head was on top of a large stack of folders, his tie was loose around his collar, and he was snoring lightly.

Was he cute while sleeping? A little bit. To be honest, he looked like one of the homeless guys out in front of Lou's Tavern.

You started to clean up your area since you really wanted to go home, but didn't want to leave Jack all by himself. You were sure that he could handle being alone- maybe. You weren't sure, actually. So you stayed.

Jack woke up a few minutes later with a groan and looked around confused.

"'Morning, sunshine," you said.

He looked disoriented, "It's morning already?"

You shook your head and pointed to one of the comically large windows in the office. He nodded slowly and rubbed his eyes.

"I can't sleep," he muttered, turning to you. His eyebags seemed even worse in the dim lighting.

"You were just sleeping like, 10 minutes ago," you replied with a dry laugh.

He peeled your jacket off of his back and examined it cautiously, then looked at you with the same intensity.

"I have insomnia."

"Oh," you started.

"It doesn't matter anyway, we have work to do," Jack sighed.

You sat with your back against the wall and patted the floor next to you. Jack looked at you with the same puzzled expression, as usual.

"Sit next to me, and bring the jacket with you," you said.

He got up slowly, picked the jacket up, and sat down a few feet from you. You scoffed, this guy was unbelievable. You scooted next to Jack and dragged him onto you so that his head was on your stomach.

"Hey- what? Don't touch me, I-"

"Shut up, and go to sleep, Jack."

He quieted down and relaxed his body on yours. It was weird, laying on his co-worker on the floor of his cubicle. But if it helped him sleep, so be it. It was more comfortable than sitting in those stiff chairs at the support groups.

Jack wrapped his arms around your torso as if you were a pillow and closed his eyes. You put the jacket on top of him and slowly stroked his hair. It was unusually soft; you expected it to be brittle. He hummed in content and nearly melted because of all the physical touch.

"...thank you," he mumbled.

You rubbed small circles on his back, "Anytime."

The two of you fell asleep on the floor, paperwork scattered about on both of your desks. You'd have to answer to your boss in the morning, but it was worth it.

[END]