#dark parables fanfic

[mb-blue-roses]

That reminds me rhat I wanted to post my fic - I don't feel like posting the Ao3 link, so I'll drop the fic under the cut!

Reunion of Fire and Ice

1.5k words

Summary: After the Fairytale Detective insists he goes and sits down with his sister like the adults they both are, Ross Red finally makes his way to the kingdom of Snowfall to reunite with Snow White.

Ross Red makes his way through the kingdom of Snowfall, a flame-red jacket pulled around his shoulders. Dark red fur rests around his shoulders, and he gazes at the city around him. Well, his sister's kingdom is certainly thriving. He can't help but be proud of his sister, seeing the people that mill about and chatter regarding anything and everything. A cool morning breeze blows through the town. Ross holds a bag of freshly-baked breads and other breakfast foods, recently purchased from a vendor in the city. He figures it isn't a good idea to show up to an impromptu family reunion without something on hand to make it smoother.

He raps on the castle's front door.

No answer.

He raps on the castle's front door again.

No answer.

He raises his hand to pound harder on the front door, trying to draw someone to open it. Then it creaks open.

"Who's knocking at this time of the morn-" the figure in the doorway snaps, before stuttering out- "R-ross?"

Snow White, the sister he hasn't spoken to in over a thousand years, is standing in the doorway. He can't help but flinch a bit under her cold stare. There's something unreadable in her eyes. Unable to find the words, he holds up the bag of fresh breakfast. Snow gapes at him for a moment, then turns around with a snap and jerks her head in a gesture to follow her. So he does.

His shoes squeak on the tile as he follows his sister through the elegant halls. Eventually, they end in a comfortable and less ornate dining room.

"What. Are. You. Doing. Here?" Snow asks sharply. Ross slams the food on the table defensively, hissing, "What? Can't I just try to see my sister?"

"It's been over a thousand years, Ross!"

"I know you want this reunion just as much as I do, Snow!"

Surprisingly enough, Snow is the one that backs down first. She hesitantly sighs, "You're right..."

Ross busies himself with spreading out the assorted foods, so that he doesn't have to look his sister in the eyes. He can't bring himself to look her in the eyes, as much as he wants to see her response. She remarks, "Let me guess. This was the detective's idea."

Involuntarily, Ross snorts.

"So that's a yes," she states in reply.

The room settles into an awkward silence. Snow's foot taps on the ground, and Ross shuffles thing around the table. He glances up, and looks out the window. The sunlight reflects off a little bit of snow, and the flourishing kingdom makes him smile at his sister's competence.

"Your kingdom seems to be flourishing," he remarks, "That's good."

Snow coughs, clearly trying to disguise a laugh, before she tells him, "I'm not the queen of Snowfall, Ross." "You... aren't?" he asks, startled. He would've expected her to be the ruler of this kingdom. He couldn't think of anyone else, there was no way their father was still in power.

"Who is, then? Surely not Dad?" Snow chuckles again, and then a voice rings out from the doorway.

"...Prince Ross? What are you doing here?"

Ross whirls around. Gerda, now a young woman, stands there. Her hair is loose, and she's wearing a night gown with a blanket around her shoulders. She rocks back and forth on her heels, watching Ross with a confused expression.

"What... what are you doing here, Gerda?" he asks in return. He can hear Snow snort in amusement before Gerda raises an eyebrow at him and says, "I... live here?"

He gapes at her for a moment, his jaw open as he tries to process. Gerda lives here? In the castle? Fascinating. He parses through his thoughts, attempting to form a response. He's saved from that by Gerda asking, "Anyways, how are Rapunzel and Belladonna doing?"

"They're doing well," he answers, "Belladonna has finally stopped insulting me when we are alone in the same room."

Gerda's face scrunches up in amusement. Ross offers her a hesitant smile. Then he asks, "Well, how are you doing then, Gerda?"

Gerda opens her mouth to reply, but then there's a rapping on the wall behind her. A young man, around Gerda's age, steps up to stand next to her. His hair is a soft blonde color, his eyes an icy blue. He presses a kiss to Gerda's cheek, and she blushes. The man asks, "May I ask how you know my wife, sir?"

By this point, Snow is doing nothing to stifle her laughter. The blonde man rolls his eyes, clearly amused by her reaction. Gerda's giggling as well, though it appears she doesn't have as much context for the situation as Snow does. Snow beckons the two of them further into the room, and they both move further in. The man leans on the counter, slotting himself easily in the corner of the small counter. Gerda, meanwhile, pulls out a stool and sits next to him. When both kids (they're adults, he knows this, but in his mind they're kids) are settled, Snow claps her hands. Ross can't help but stare. Gerda's married? He never knew her all that well, considering how little time they spent together and the fact that he was more focused on Rapunzel at that time, but it still surprises him. Nudging him to get his attention, Snow starts, "Ross, this is my son, Gwyn."

Ross is left speechless yet again, his head spinning. Based on Snow's movement, she's likely telling Gwyn that Ross is his uncle. He has a nephew?! He missed so much while was estranged. Likely, he was the king. Blinking away his thoughts he asks, "How long have you had a son?!"

"My entire life," Gwyn replies with a shit-eating grin. Gerda snorts loudly, before blushing and covering her face with her hand. Gwyn smiles and leans into her. Wait a minute...

"Does that make Gerda my niece-in-law?" he asks.

Gerda nods, taking Gwyn's hand.

"You also have a nephew-in-law. I'm married to them both, and them to each other," Gwyn says, at the same time Gerda mumbles, "Where is he? He's usually the first one up..."

Before Ross has a chance to process any of that, and almost as if mentioning him summoned him, another young man comes into the kitchen. The cane in his hand taps against the wooden floor as he sleepily enters, rubbing at his eyes. He approaches the table, saying, "G'morning everyone. Where'd this come from?"

"The uncle I just learned that I had," Gwyn answers, jerking his thumb to point at Ross. The man's head snaps up, and he looks at Ross with a startled expression. After staring blankly at Ross for a moment, he seems to make some sort of mental connection. He says, "Oh, you're the one who took Gerda to Floralia a few years ago. My name is Kai."

Kai offers Ross a handshake, which he respectfully accepts. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Kai, my name is Ro- Wait, how do you know about that?"

Kai chuckles awkwardly, his free hand finding its way to the back of his neck. He answers, "Well, Gerda's been my best friend for most of my life. When I saw you leaving the village with her, I wanted to make sure she was safe. So, I followed you. I... didn't get very far, and the detective saved me. She was at our wedding, actually."

So everything comes back to the detective, and an improbably tangled web of connections. Huh.

After a moment of awkward silence, Gerda hops off her stool. She strides over to the table, kissing her other husband on the cheek. Gwyn follows suit, and Kai turns bright red. Seeing the display of affection brings an uncharacteristically fond smile, unbidden, to his face. It reminds him of how he and Rapunzel were, in the early years. A small, but loud, part of him misses that. It also reminds him of how that frog prince (James, was his name?) and Snow acted before Ross left his family behind over it.

As the happy trio talks and serves themselves from the dishes Ross spread out on the table earlier, Ross himself turns to his sister. When she turns to him, he twists his head to look at Gwyn. The king is laughing, his face scrunched up in delight as his husband kisses some butter off his nose and his wife sneaks a sausage off his plate. Then he turns back to his sister and asks, "Was he with..."

"Yes. It didn't work out, and he's dead now. We were divorced for a few hundred years before that."

There's a lot of unanswered questions there, but she doesn't seem inclined to answer them. He can respect that. After all, he did show up at her house at eight in the morning after over a thousand years of no contact.

"We should join the kids," Snow says, and so they do. Questions can wait.

[sangijazz]

Love Megabytes - a Lovebug AU Stanley x shadow!Narrator fanfic

Stanley swears he saw something crawl its way into the parable.

The Narrator says there is nothing to worry about. It is just a harmless virus.

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note

Narrator uses it/its in this one folks

There is abuse of zalgo in this

slight tw: obsessive behavior, behavior altering virus,

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Chapter 1

"This is a story of a man named Stan- Stanley! What do you think you are doing?!" the Narrator asked infuriated, the avatar normally waits for it to finish the introduction before causing chaos.

The man in question was crouched under his desk, seeming very interested in something there.

Saw something. signed Stanley briefly before extending his arm to search further.

The Narrator frowned to itself - it didn't make sense, nothing was supposed to happen now. It absent-mindedly looked at the model of the room from all angles trying to find what had distracted its creation so much. Since Stanley didn't know what he was searching for neither did the dark being. 

"Nonsense, Stanley!" the shadow crossed its non-physical arms, projecting itself below the man, replacing his shadow. "Nothing has changed from last run. Now, chop chop, we have a story to get to." But it was ignored, there was nothing it hated more than being ignored. The Narrator mumbled to itself, something something stubbornness, narrative integrity, petulant.

The stretched fingers felt the wall carefully, Stanley had his brows knit together and the tip of his tongue out in concentration. 

"Will at least tell me what you saw, Stanley? What could be MORE interesting than my story?" pouted the British voice.

-ots of things- thought Stanley louder, I saw something crawl out of here. I'm trying to find from where.

  "Crawl? Here? Don't be ridiculous, Stanley!" the Narrator scoffed "I have no asset that could do that! The most similar to crawl an asset does is the baby and I have not seen something that big crawling here, Stanley!" 

Nothing pink? Small? asked the man, as he now explored the right corner of the 427 office. The other replied with a disagreeing shrug. Pink was a difficult color to harmonize with the Office.

A silent exclamation of triumph left Stanley as his fingertips brushed again something, he turned his head and squinted to see what he had found. 

A hole. Not larger than his ring finger. It seemed to go all the way through the wall, direct through the code. 

Stanley has never seen something like this, the Narrator was always very careful with the parable's code, knowing fully well that if it wasn't, the avatar would find a way to mess with it, probably breaking it beyond repair. 

Even if Stanley did in fact like some chaos, this was extremely odd and too dangerous for now so, Narrator? He called and showed his finding to the other. 

The Narrator moved its form to the wall indicated, its projected yellow square glasses close to the anomaly. 

"Oh, dear..." The shadow disappeared since it was easier to investigate this from the Narrator's office.

The vessel stood up, sat back in his chair, and started to fidget with his hands, nervous as he felt the other's anxiety. This was beyond the Narrator’s limited unlimited control of the parable and Stanley’s control by free will. 

The panicked mumblings of the dark creature echoed through the map as it searched for whatever could have done that. It appeared to have eaten its code to get inside, a small and not really important code but still not acceptable! 

In a room, in its office, somewhere not really physical, the Narrator went through its scripts with alarm. The walls were covered with monitors, some flicked between ten, hundred, thousand of angles of the parable, searching for others showed rows and rows of code, simple commands such as Object Chair; or as unreadable strings of zeros and ones, for untrained eyes, nothing seemed wrong but there were gaps where there shouldn’t be; each second that pasted more gaps appeared. A few papers cover some screen

It was eating the code. Multiplying. And eating more.

A virus.

The parable had a virus. 

A BLOODY VIRUS HAD MADE ITS WAY THROUGH THE NARRATOR’S CODE.

The shadow being was livid. 

How could something like this happen?! 

THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END

As the other panicked, Stanley made his way to the employee lounge not really knowing what to do. He sat on the ground with some pen and paper he snatched from some desk on the way. The problem seemed to be big from the not-so-subtle ramblings of the narrator, but Stanley didn’t have something to offer except to give the other peace.

The vessel wasn’t really an artist, only beginning to draw recently..? When the parable had begun. In the first 20 resets? Time got too tangled after so many runs. Anyway, it began as a way to piss off his companion, drawing dicks and other immature things on the walls with a marker from the meeting room. The entity had been so disgusted with the display of “childish and improper” - its words - behavior, it had berated the man until it couldn’t take anymore and reset.

Stanley didn’t repeat that for some resets, mainly then only snatching paper, pencils, and pens, and bringing them to the broom closet when he was overwhelmed or just need space. There he would try to sketch the closet’s items, the bucket (if he had brought them with him) or the simple shape of the Narrator’s shadow form, its somehow yellow square glasses, and Line™ tie, the dark shape of its hair that sometimes changed to new hairstyles, the ever-present headset that was likely just for show, the glasses too to think of it. 

The drawings in the start were lost after each reset, this made the avatar unhappy but understanding. However, after spending three hours redrawing his office, Stanley did ask the Narrator if there was a way to keep it.

 It was actually surprised by the request and by the fact that its creation was making art. It couldn’t really see what Stanley did in the broom closet, so it had just thought he was making “improper” drawings on the walls again. Stanley couldn’t really deny the assumption since it happened once in a while. 

Nevertheless, the Narrator was more than content to keep the drawing, and after he mentioned the lost ones, it swore to keep the ones Stanley want to keep. And after some thought the entity “”offhandedly”” suggested that the man didn’t need to hide to draw anymore.

After all that, they established a ritual, where every few resets, Stanley would make his way to the meeting room signing to the other his intentions. The Narrator would lay some materials on the big table for him and let him be. Sometimes the vessel would ask it “to stay”, where they would talk about the drawings or whatever new script the other was working on or just… stay quiet, each focused on their own thing and enjoying each other’s presence.

The walls of Stanley’s office began filling up with sketches, doodles, and portraits. At times one or other would disappear, and he had a tiny suspicion these end up wherever the Narrator’s office was. This made him feel fuzzy inside.

Now, he was trying to put the undescribable code he saw in that hole into paper. It has given the avatar a headache just to look at it, probably too much for him to understand. And Stanley didn’t really like to think he is just a 3D model controlled by lines of digits. He has already accepted he is trapped in this ever-repeating loop and will likely never get out, one hope-crushing realization at the time. This piece wouldn’t be exactly how he saw it but more like the feeling. 

The ramblings have slowly quieted to a low mumbling, almost like a nervous buzz. 

He dropped the pencil to sign: Narrator?,  using the name sign he rarely used, the sign for N, and the sign for Story.  

Nothing. It must not be paying attention.

Narrator? Thinking loud normally worked.

“Hum? Oh, Stanley, sorry for this. It appears we have hmm… a virus” the Narrator said with false disinterest leafing through papers “Nothing to worry about.” it cleaned its metaphorical throat “Ah! I see you have already occupied yourself, Stanley. Good, good…” its voice trembled a little, Stanley decided not to comment on it. 

Can I help?  

“I am afraid not, Stanley. Thanks to you, we already know the virus is here…” He smiled a little at the ceiling. “Now, don’t mind me. I will find it…”

Was it the pink thing I saw? I can keep a watch for it.

“Could be… I doubt this has a physical form but I will not mind if you do, Stanley.” the Narrator said absentmindedly probably already focusing on something else.

The avatar’s thumbs-up was not acknowledged or seen. He returned to his drawing.

Now, the perspective isn’t quite right… 

THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE NEVER THE END

This is bad…

No matter what the Narrator did, no matter how many pieces of this virus it erased and purged, this code-eating disease always came back.

Maybe it has a commanding core, sending orders and the storyteller was only killing its soldiers, not its commander. This was easy to conclude but the Narrator COULD NOT find where this blasphemous commander WAS.

It has searched bloody EVERYWHERE, every line of code, every corner of the map, and every page of its scripts. And the entity found NOTHING.

Was the ailment purposely hiding? It would be really strong, well-developed, and very very dangerous if so… 

Would the Narrator have to fully reset the game? Oh Lord, just the thought of that made its screens go fuzzy with interference. 

What if the virus was in the device?! Bloody hell, it could do nothing against that! 

How could the user contract such a virus? Probably in one of those filthy pornographic sites, humans seemed to love so much.

The sound of paper flipping was a lovely addition the being was really proud of, even if the papers weren’t exactly real, but now after spending the equivalent of HOURS going through them, over and over again, the little sound effect was stressing Narrator out, making some monitors blink in and out error screens. Or was it the missing code strings? This was all too overwhelming.

Should the Narrator stay with Stanley as he draws for a while to regain its composure? It would be in fact relaxing…

Flicking its glasses to a monitor which showed the man, the creature pondered.

Stanley was lying on the floor on his belly, feet up slowly rocking back and forth. He seemed really invested in his work. Lord bless the quiet moments they had together. The Narrator L̶͙̅͒Î̶͇̻K̸͕̈́E̵̺̹͆Ḑ̸̈ the way Stanley would smile whenever he was content with a sketch. It A̷͕͓͑́̓D̸̨͌͘O̴̘̟͈͌͝R̸͚̯̎͂͠E̵̺͋̓͘D̶̞̍ when the two of them would ping pong ideas for new scripts or drawings, even if it pretended to be skeptic of the vessel’s ideas while taking notes on the side. The way the man would fluster and hide his face with the paper when the shadow would compliment the work was one of the things it Ļ̶̡̪̭̤̟̹̥̪̟̝̪͎̖̬̻̿̀͐̾̇͐͘͜Ő̴̧̞̭̘̜͚̯͈̙̮͌̀̄V̷̧̧̘͕͍̰̰̖͎̭̻͍̻̘̰̖̠̮͆́̐̾̊̊̓͂̆̓͊̈́͝͝E̸̪̩̔͆̀̓̾̍̽̾D̵̘̺̜̪̬̼͍̘̰̲͖̦̾́͐́̍͌̇͋́͐̇͊̍̐͘͝ the most.

It Ļ̶̡̪̭̤̟̹̥̪̟̝̪͎̖̬̻̿̀͐̾̇͐͘͜Ő̴̧̞̭̘̜͚̯͈̙̮͌̀̄V̷̧̧̘͕͍̰̰̖͎̭̻͍̻̘̰̖̠̮͆́̐̾̊̊̓͂̆̓͊̈́͝͝E̸̪̩̔͆̀̓̾̍̽̾D̵̘̺̜̪̬̼͍̘̰̲͖̦̾́͐́̍͌̇͋́͐̇͊̍̐͘͝ when Stanley would take part of a story and seemed to be actually enjoying it. The feeling of joy and validation when Ṣ̶͑t̸̙̓a̵̗̋n̵͙̓l̵̞̂è̷̥y̸̛̱ would follow the narration without a hitch. The way Ṣ̶͑t̸̙̓a̵̗̋n̵͙̓l̵̞̂è̷̥y̸̛̱ would sign faster and bounce on his feet when he was excited. Even if it would never admit it out loud, the storyteller even Ļ̷̞̞͓̬̺̄́̂̔ ̸̦̲̄̋͗͂O̷͖͉̗͚͒͜͠ ̷̘̥̹̓̈́Ṽ̵͓͛ ̷̬͔͉͔̝̾̿Ë̶̼͎̤̳́̉͆̊́̕ ̸̟͔͖̉̅̊͝D̵̩̟͗̎̋̀ when the avatar would latch out at it, the disobedience ̷̼̈ẅ̵̙́a̵̙̐ŝ̴̲ ̴̯͆s̴͓͗o̸͔̓ ̴̮͘f̵͍̓u̴̟͊ņ̵̃ ̸̲̑t̵̛͉o̵̬͘ ̶̳͒d̷̲͐e̴͙͐a̵̜͆l̸̻̇ ̷̮̔w̴̛͔ḭ̷̈t̴̯̿ḧ̸̩ ̶̥̂

Ỉ̸͔t̴͝ͅ ̸̘͝Ḷ̵͗O̸̩̿V̶̧̾E̸͚͝D̴̟̓ ̵̛̲S̸̙̚t̷͈̓a̵̰̔ṋ̵̔l̵͓͠ḛ̸̒y̶͓̒'̶̙̎š̴͚ ̴̜̓l̷͙͐i̷̱̅ţ̶̋t̷̕ͅĺ̴͖ë̶̪́ ̸̼̃q̶̤̋ú̶̱ǐ̵̧r̴̪͒k̸̤͛ș̷͒.̷̠͝

I̶̧̙͓͙̝̓̃̂̌͗̒̽T̸̢̨̺̫͈̮͂ ̴̡͔̹̠̳̲̔͋͗́͛ͅL̴̜̦̲̟̻̐̾̈́͋̈́͠ ̴͎̙̦̞̰͒̋́O̶͇̙̮̤͔̅̽͘ͅ ̴̮̘̓V̵̨͚̟̉͑̉͊̚̕ ̵̢̗̖̩̀̾̑̕Ę̷̼͔̜͙̼̀̓͊́́̍ ̷͕̈̀͝D̴̠͚͇̳̠̊̉̊ ̸̢̘̞̳̝̅͑S̵͖͊͌͆͛̕͠͠T̵͙̩̲̞̩̞́̓̔̚̚ͅA̶̻̺̮̹̗̺̹̿̑N̸̛̥̜͚͙̤̈́̋̃͂̏́L̶͇̀̓͆̌É̴̖̘̉͐͋͝͝Ỷ̴̻̗̪̳͔͌͗̆̾͌͘ͅͅ

Į̸̻͚̲̹̘̘̪̖̎̑̅ͅT̶̢̤͛͋͆͒̀̾̕ ̶̡̼͕̺̰̞̼͇̰͗̉͗̓̀̌͊͋̕͘͝

Ẃ̵̰̝̟̬͒̆̐͋̃̒͒͐̚͝͠Â̷̢̢̲͉̻̳̠̖̝̣̗̒̊̽̂̈́͝N̸̳̠̦̞̮͇̞͈͒̈́̈́͂̔͑̋̍͘T̷̢̨̩͍͕̞̟̭̤̥̤̀̈͆̾͆̉͗͒͝ͅS̸̡̛̬̫̮̟̿̍̎̀͑̎͝

Š̸̡̤̳͊̋͆̍̃̀̌̄͠Ţ̶̳͈̺̝͉̯͓͚͉̈̌͆̇͝A̷̡̳͊̄̽̇̈́͊̚N̷̩̫̻͑́͝͠͝L̵̛͇̾̐͘Ë̵̟́̇̓̄̏Y̵͙͊̿̋̅̿̓͒̐͗̃͝

“Whaţ̷̤̅́ a̷͎͆͝ͅr̶͖̆͑G̴̱̒̔H̷̲̿-̸̩͚̅͊-” is happening? - was what the Narrator wanted to say before, the white, deafening, blinding PAIN, AGONIZING PAIN clawed its way through the entity's core and code. Every one and zero in it lighting as if being cutdestroyedburnedglitc̴̡͇̐h̶͍͠ ̷̣̫̒g̴̼͙̑l̸̞̼͊i̸̯̓ͅṭ̴̉c̸͈͚̃h̷͈̎ ̵̠̪̑̉Ė̵͈͇̇R̷̡͈̆̃R̴̡̺̕O̶͚̘͛̿Ŗ̸̕͜ ̷̭̬̂̒Ė̵̟Ř̶͉̣R̴͓͊̄Ő̵̳̫̉Ȓ̷͖̜̍ ̸͘͜͝

“¡̵̣͚̎¡̷͚͑ͅO̸̲̺͒͘Ḣ̵̩!̵͈̏!̶̰͝” exclaimed the Narrator because it could do nothing else.

[̸i̵n̸s̶t̷a̸l̶l̶.̷P̷r̴o̵g̷r̸a̵m̴:̸ ̵L̸0̵V̷3̶B̸U̵G̸.̶e̶x̵e̵;]̶

[Run.Program(L0V3BUG.exe);]

[Set.AdminTo(L0V3BUG.exe);]

The golden yellow of the room changed to bright lovesick pink drowning the distressing red blinking error screens. Squares to sappy hearts. New and l̸u̵s̵t̴f̴u̶l̷ code filled the holes left in the system. All monitors showed Stanley, still drawing, still oblivious, and looking so so delicious. 

“Well…This is… ǹ̴͖ ne̸͓͋ẅ̴ͅ.” the Narrator smiled, dark shadows forming sharp teeth.  

[ExecuteCommand(Reset);]

THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END

[to be continued]

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this is a little snack i hope it will be an appetizer

if i actually continue writing this i will post it ao3

[flightfoot]

ML Fanfic Recs for 2023: 40K - 60K Words

So I’ve been going through and adding particularly good fics I’ve read throughout the year. Only Complete fics, of course. Enjoy!

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The Two Worlds of Marinette by Liquifiedstars:

Marinette discovers a watch in her attic that allows her to travel back in time. Soon she is torn between her life with her rising star fiancé, Luka, and a romance with the enigmatic Adrien Agreste, who knows nothing of the fate that awaits him.

This fic is an AU based on the film The Two Worlds of Jennie Logan, which I’m afraid I’ve never seen. Still, I quite enjoyed this fic, with Marinette spending more and more time in the past, and trying to figure out the truth behind Adrien’s eventual death, and how to prevent it.

Fair warning to Lukanette fans though, Marinette does cheat on Luka during the fic, it comes with the AU. He takes it pretty well though.

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Stone Streak by kingxuppu

Ladybug and Violet Tigress had been fighting the mysterious Duskwing for eight years now. Through the years, the two have grown stronger together and even gotten married, they are waiting until they finally beat Duskwing to start a family. At least, that was the plan. When Juleka gets confronted with the realization that her friends are starting families of their own, she realizes just how badly she wants to be a mother.

Due to unfortunate circumstances, Juleka and Marinette get the chance to adopt Juleka's young modeling friend Adrien.

Maybe they aren't quite a traditional family, but with magic, rockstars, and fame, normal was never an option.

Via Discovery: There are actually two terms of venery for tigers, depending on the makeup of the group. The first is a streak of tigers and this refers to a female tiger and her cubs.

Now this is a rare pairing, there’s not a lot of Julenette fics! Adrien and Rose actually have some ship tease going on, the whole kid group in canon got broken up into two groups here, one that remained around canon age (so like 13) which notably consists of Chloe, Rose, and Adrien, and then I think everyone else are adults in their mid-twenties. It’s weird seeing Adrien as Marinette’s and Juleka’s son, but hey it works! I love how Juleka really showed Adrien the ropes on modeling and became a Mama tiger for him, the fic’s mostly just very sweet, though with a surprisingly dark final act. 

---

The Parable of the Caller by @nemaliwrites

A week after Hawk Moth’s identity has been revealed, Adrien finds himself with nowhere to go, nothing he can do, and worst of all, strange gaps in his memory he can’t explain. In a stroke of luck, he stumbles upon a burner phone filled with voicemails from one of the Saviors of Paris: Chat Noir himself, who disappeared following Hawk Moth’s arrest.

But with each new voicemail Adrien listens to, he’s forced to confront the fact that there might be some kind of connection between himself and Chat Noir — and discovering it might leave him more broken than before.

I absolutely adore this fic, it’s a fantastic character study for Adrien! Basically in this universe, Ladybug and Chat Noir talked about who should be Guardian, with Chat eventually convincing her that he should be the one to take it on, primarily due to the whole “the Guardian gets amnesia about Miraculous-related matters” situation, and wanting to protect Ladybug from that. Then he finds out Gabriel is Hawk Moth, they take him down, and he relinquishes the Miracle Box and his guardianship to Su Han - all without having a Reveal with Ladybug, since well, he’s not in the greatest shape mentally at the time.

It’s a real treat to see Adrien’s thoughts and feelings about one of the Heroes of Paris leaving him all these voicemails, treating him like this close friend for reasons he doesn’t understand, and just seeing Chat Noir as this outside person. He’s got a very different viewpoint on Chat when looking from the outside than he would from the inside, with being able to see his heroic and good qualities far more easily when he doesn’t know that he is Chat.

Also Marinette’s struggling in the background of the fic with the loss of her partner and guilt over sending Adrien’s father to prison. It gets touched on at various points, and you can tell that she’s having her own story off to the side that we’re just not entirely privy to, what with this tale being told entirely from Adrien’s perspective.

---

Miss Dial by @mysticraven20

Adrien Agreste has always considered Marinette Dupain-Cheng entertaining. Whether it was the endless back and forth of their banter, the clumsiness he found so cute or the fact her anger levels could go from 1-100 in a mere millisecond; he always found there was something about her... if only he could get to know her better.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng has always considered Adrien Agreste a pompous, arrogant asshole. From his constant teasing of her, to the obnoxious laugh at her discomfort and the way he could anger her quicker than any other human being; she knew she hated Adrien Agreste with all she was worth.

But what happens when Adrien accidentally sends the wrong text to the wrong person and a new friendship blossoms - a friendship deeper than either have ever known?

Will Marinette choose to stay faithful to the budding relationship with the boy on the other side of the phone?

Or will a new job with an old foe fill the loneliness in her heart?

Great Adrienette enemies au here! I thought Mystic did a great job explaining how Adrien could be under the impression that he and Marinette were at least sort-of friends, while Marinette hates his guts. Adrien’s not great at understanding social nuances. 

Most of the relationship-building here is actually between Adrien and Marinette in the real world, with Marinette gradually learning that she had the wrong idea about Adrien. Turns out, all their friends really want them to get alng (and maybe smooch XD).

Oh yeah, while the summary doesn’t mention this, this fic IS still set in the canon universe, so they’re juggling identities as Ladybug and Chat Noir on top of everything else. Monarch’s been pretty quiet though.

---

Every Heartbeat by @epcot97

Reeling from a brutally difficult day, Marinette finds her life becomes amazingly complicated after impulsively inviting Chat Noir to spend the evening with her. But when the suave feline begins to weave his way into her heart, she realizes rather quickly just how conflicted her feelings for her partner truly are. (part of MariChat May 2021)

Okay so I’m cheating on this one just a little. This story was originally uploaded in 2021, but was taken down and then reuploaded in 2023. I didn’t read it the first time around, and I really enjoyed it and this is my list, so screw it, I’m including it.

Really lovely Marichat fic here! Gabriel fires Marinette from her designer job for unfair reasons, so Chat goes to comfort her and help her set up her own fashion business, becoming closer and closer as they do so. 

---

Midwinter Serendipity by Cakedecorator

Marinette is a normal woman living in her parents' bakery with her parents, and they have a monthly tradition: they take their bakery leftovers and any handmade clothes that Marinette has made and bring them to the local homeless shelter.

To paraphrase a common idiom, the best laid plans of people often go awry. In this case, they have to stop in the middle of everything when they find a young man lying out cold while IN the cold.

After they bring him to the hospital and he wakes up, they realize that he has a huge problem: he can't remember anything other than his first name! What will the family do?!

This is just a really comfy fic for most of it, though with some angst thrown in too. Adrien adores getting to spend time with the Dupain-Chengs, and honestly doesn’t WANT to remember his past, since the glimpses and memories and emotions he has recovered have indicated to him that they aren’t great, and he’s happy with his current situation. 

Unfortunately, just because he doesn’t want to forget his past, doesn’t mean his past will just forget about him.

---

The second Multimouse gets the Chat by charliepoet13

After a harshly fought battle Ladybug and Chat Noir have claimed the Mouse Miraculous. Obviously Marinette needs to test the strange new ring, and obviously the best way to do that is patrols with Chat. No, she will not be taking comments.

This is as adorable a fic as it sounds like! Marinette refuses to look into WHY, exactly, she really likes running around with Chat as Multimouse, even when she really needs a break. 

---

Ladybugged Series by RillRull

Summary of the first fic in the series, Ladybugged:

In which Ladybug accidentally gets turned into a ladybug, and it’s up to Chat Noir to fix it.

It turns out potion making is really hard when your best friend is a bug and you’re just some guy in a cat suit.

If you like “the heroes turn into animals” stories, this series should be right up your alley! The first one features Ladybug accidentally turning herself into a ladybug and Chat trying to figure out how to turn her back, the second fic follows up on some plot threads from the first fic, and then the final fic in the series, Catified, has Chat intentionally turn himself into a cat for the weekend (after making sure that everyone thinks that he’s at Nino’s place and that Nino will cover for him) because he thinks it’ll be fun, and him staying over with Marinette! I’m a sucker for these kinds of stories so they were a real treat to read XD.

---

I (Wish I) Knew You by @buggachat

University has been hard on Marinette. Making new friends and maintaining her grades is a lot easier said than done when she has to disappear at odd times to fight akumas. She's struggling, and with Alya away with family and Adrien painfully out of reach, she's never felt lonelier.

If only she could talk to someone who really understood her struggles... but it's not like Chat Noir would know anything about loneliness. Right?

Nice aged-up Ladynoir fic here! Marinette’s struggling with losing friends and lovers because of her flakiness due to her superhero activities, until at last she breaks down. Thankfully, Chat Noir’s there at least - and it soon turns out he’s got problems of his own that he’s been hiding.

There’s some fluff and angst, it’s mostly just the two of them navigating life, dealing with their feelings and talking things out.

---

Found by @trishacollins

Chat Noir and Ladybug need to tie up some loose ends. Unfortunately, one of those ends is Felix.

This is a fantastic fic! It’s part of a wider series wherein Adrien and Felix were friends with Nooroo and Duusu from a younger age, but Adrien’s memory was wiped of it by his parents, but this is the first fic you really need to read. Basically, after the events of Emotion, Chat confronts Felix about what he did, and Felix confesses to being a Sentibeing, and Duusu reveals to Chat that he is one as well, leading to Felix cooperating with the heroes. 

Of all the fics I’ve read that tackle the subject, this one does the best job of giving Felix a redemption arc for his actions in the season 4 finale, focusing not only on how he hurt the heroes, but the kwamis. I loved that he truly understood how much he fucked up with the situation he put the kwamis in, how much suffering he put them through, and that the kwamis were allowed to be angry at him for awhile afterwards, to be suspicious and untrusting towards him at first (and that Marinette was allowed to do the same). Felix screwed up and hurt people, and he had to really show that he understood what he did was wrong, why it was wrong, and try to help the people he hurt.

---

In Direct Opposition by @generalluxun

Alya Cesaire is a brand new student to Francis Dupont, to Paris even. The first student she meets is one Chloé Bourgeois, and Alya is determined to make a friend. Things advance Chaotically. Her new 'friend' is definitely a handful, and suddenly Paris has a supervillain and two brand new superheroes! Alya finds herself balancing a lot of things, trying to live up to her ideals and those of her icons.

And then reality seems to contradict itself.

As time progresses it seems to happen more often. Becoming a hero, battling villains, staying alive, working through friendships. Something is lurking, tweaking events at times, changing them, and no one seems aware. Alya will need all her wits to get to the bottom of this. Her investigative mind can only get her so far though, and then she needs to rely on her friends. This is not a foe you can beat head on.

I betaed this entire fic, it’s really good! I adore the focus on Alya’s philosophy here, her determination to be a hero, to help people and defeat evil - and that defeating evil means trying to reform the people doing bad things when possible, to try to save EVERYONE, even the “villain”. I thought it was really clever the ways Alya would redirect Chloe and subtly encourage her to be a better person, while also trying to get the people around her to give her a second chance and keep an open mind. 

Also Alya and Chloe are an adorable sapphic couple XD.

---

Chemistry With Him by @bbutterflies

It kind of sucked Nino was taking chemistry, but classes had filled up fast and he needed to take something and his advisor had said the credits would, somehow, count towards his major. It really sucked he was taking it first thing on a Monday morning (and Wednesdays, and Fridays, unfortunately). But he could get through it. He knew he could.

So no more boys. No distractions. He could do this all on his own.

“Is anyone sitting here?”

Nino looked up to find the source of the voice. A blond, green-eyed, absolutely beautiful someone.

Okay. Maybe one distraction.

Ah, adorable Adrino. This is a universe where Adrien never went to public school, so while Chat Noir, Ladybug, Carapace, and Rena Rouge all know each other (and Marinette, Alya, and Nino all know each other’s identities) they’re unaware that they are all already friends with Adrien. I loved seeing Chat and Carapace excitedly tell each other about their awesome crush/boyfriend, not knowing they were talking about each other XD.

[wyvchard]

Master List and Blog Intro

So, hi. I prefer not to talk about myself too much. However, I tend to write for fun and write when I feel like it.

Currently, my main stuff is fanfics for I Expect You To Die. However, I do write one shots when it comes to writing prompts.

This blog is mostly filled with reblogs of stuff I find interesting. However, if you came for the writings, please refer to the list below.

(Text is the category. Don't expect plot threads as most are usually one off.)

This is the master post of my writings, if anyone is interested:

I Expect You to Die Stories

Full List over at @eod-agent-13-12 (my IEYTD side blog)

Fanfic Idea

Hardcore Timeline

Phoenixes can't be warm, can they?

Fire Safety

Dossiers

The mourning after (Takes place after an RP)

All these hoops for a vacation

Avert your eyes from the nest

Warmth in a Bowl of Noodles

From the Same Nest

Candlelight and Phoenix

A Late Night Visit

A Phoenix's Serenade (Roxanix)

Expectations and Attention (Phoenix X Juniper fic)

What Someone thinks is best

"Dr. Pr, do we have a blanket?"

I can't see what they see (Angst warning)

The Guilt in Smiling

A Few Steps Out of the Darkness

Static and Radio Waves (Phoenix as a radio host)

Static and Radio Waves Part Two

Static and Radio Waves Part Three

A Crane in a Phoenix's Nest (Heavy Angst)

Night Classes and Spiral Platforms

Safe and Sound Simon Says (Mind Control AU)

You'd Expect They'd be Used to This, But They Aren't.

I Just Hope It's a False Alarm

Birds of a Feather

Random Prompt Stories (These are not connected to each other. Feel free to pick any as they're all one shots.)

Make a Wish Villain Request

Ancient Lich Magic

Retired Lich Teacher

Attacking mid-transformation is a bad idea

Watching as your body lives

Hero and Villain but Villain has finals

Not a chosen one, but a farmer

Forced apathy misunderstood as hatred

Staying in a time loop

Hero and Villain: Tell them

Ruling is too bothersome

"Is it over?"

The Princess is restless

I don't look like a witch but she does

If only they realized...

Staying for the apprentice

Hero Dad, Villain Child

The assignment

Anyone but me

Backed out because it feels like a horror movie

Worst Part of Immortality

Waiting

Honeyed words in Ink

Whom I work for

We're different now

Pieces of Others and Me

What I do regret

I take offense at that.

Someone could have helped

Magic Drain

A twisted form of love

Power and Weakness

Would you have wanted this? (Villain X Hero)

So Now You Want to be Back

Mother Supervillainess and Daughter Heroine

I don't want to see you

OC Lore Stories (Writing prompts with my own Original Characters in mind. Currently disconnected one shots.)

You found this place / The interview

I remember them

The passionate anger in love

You won't be here for me.

I'm only doing this for me

It seems you got the wrong idea

Silus, Titus, and Skywynne's turmoils

Mistakes of Youth

Maybe it's a trick of my mind (Takes place in the IEYTD universe but it's mostly them.)

Comfort Plushie (Short moment with Kae and Ghost / @ghostlystarwanderer)

Power Reveals, Not Corrupts

Something so InHuman (This is darker than my usual stuff. Please head the warnings.)

Cry, But Will They Answer? No.

I Saw and I Know

Other Stories

It Should've been you, if you didn't stay quiet. (The Stanley Parable angst)

Whumperless Whump Event (2024)

Augusnippets (2024)

Tagging System:

#Wyvie Writes, Wvyie Writes (I accidentally misspelled it), My Writings - My writing tag/s #Wyvie Arts - My art and doodles

[polyamorouscultureis]

Polyamorous culture is getting irrationally angry about a game that takes a reasonable character and turns him into a jealous monster in a love triangle

(Dark Parables The Thief and the Tinderbox my beloathed)

Time to turn to the fanfics again :(

[kaledya]

Tis I, the Parable of Cain guy, here to say ch 3 is out after a long procrastination period. Hope you like it . Also question for your swap au: what is Adam doing/his his plan. Is he hoping to become the dark king of humanity, subtly guiding from the shadows until its time to reveal himself.

HIIIII!!

I read CH 3 and it's as entertaining as ever.It was really interesting that Glitz and Glam was Cain's guide. And I generally liked the Cain's dialogues and what he did.

I'm looking forward to the new episode And I'm excited for the dialogue of Cain and Abel after they go to the hotel.It will be fun to see their reactions from two different perspectives!!

And do you have a publishing schedule? Every 1 week or every 2 weeks?

But seriously I love reading this fanfic, your dialouge writing is so nice!!

I have no idea for SwapAU adam I've never thought about him so I don't know.

[help-me-this-sucks]

INTRO THING ‼️‼️

Haii Hello :3

(As stated in bio) My name is Amias or you can call me Alex too and my pronouns r he/him/it/its/tech/techs and I'm mostly attracted to masculine people :> (I'm new to using xenopronouns so I'm keeping it to tech/techs)

I strongly suspect I have autism and ADHD, but my health insurance sucks and I don't have time to get assessed :((

emoticon user

victim of hyperfixations

idk how 2 edit n I have writers block so don't expect any edits/fanfics out of me

Multifandom !!!!

some include:

✰ ELECTRIC DREAMS (duh)

✰ The Stanley Parable

✰ I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream

✰ Portal

✰ Brokeback Mountain

✰ Hollow Knight

Some things I'm interested in that don't have fandoms or I choose not to be in them, so these are some of those:

✰ Subnautica

✰ Studio Ghibli films (Specifically Ponyo :DD)

✰ Another Crab's Treasure

✰ Jaws

✰ Can you tell I like the ocean ?

✰ Contemporary art

✰ Vintage stuff (Ex: Glass blocks, old video games/software, old computers, etc...)

✰ Firewatch

✰ Resident Evil (I've only played a few)

✰ Call of Duty (Specifically the new Modern Warfare trilogy campaigns) (I don't like the fandom)

✰ Others I can't think of rn but those r the big ones

I also listen to music !!!

Some of the stuff I listen to is:

✰ Car Seat Headrest (Favorite song is Afterglow)

✰ Mitski (Favorite song is Once More to See You)

✰ TV Girl (Favorite song is It Almost Worked)

✰ TWRP (Favorite song is HTMLOVE)

✰ Some other stuff (Not enough of any other artist/band to rlly count)

I plan to watch/play/listen to some things in the future :D

Those are:

✰ Donnie Darko

✰ 2001: A Space Odyssey

✰ Silksong (if it even releases in my lifetime /j)

✰ More Car Seat Headrest

✰ More Mitski

✰ More TWRP

DNI LIST:

✰ Basic stuff like transphobes, homophobes, racists, sexists, y'know, bigots, fascists, whatever you wanna call them. (they probably don't want to interact with me anyway)

✰ Pro/com/dark/whatever-shippers. GET OOOUUUTTT, I DON'T WANNA SEE YOU SHIP A MINOR WITH THEIR PARENTS/SIBLINGS >:(

✰ People who make homophobic/transphobic/racist/sexist/r*pe "Jokes". You're not funny and I don't wanna hear it

✰ Anti-objectums (y r u even upset that I wanna kiss the computers and some necklaces man)

✰ Other than that I don't rlly care unless you're an icky weirdo ^_^

Baiii goodbye >w<

[possessable]

what are some of your fandoms?

short answer: At the moment i like Captain Underpants (no way) (the movie continuity specifically) but i don't tend to stay in fandoms for very long

long answer: Aha! You've made the mistake of asking me something that can be Unnecessarily Over-Categorized into separate lists!

Things i Am Currently or Recently Was a fan of:

Captain Underpants

The Odyssey/Epic The Musical

Rhythm Doctor

Things i fixated on for like A Month that people followed me for but i have a low chance of posting about unless i get into them again:

Deltarune (i will probably get back into this when the new chapters come out)

DHMIS

The Stanley Parable

Markiplier...lore...? like who killed markiplier and stuff. what do you call it

Simon Petrikov (???) (not true i fixated on him for longer than a month i was extremely fixated on him for like 2 years in 2018 and he holds a Dear Place in my heart i just don't . post or think about him anymore)

Mob Psycho 100

Things i am Perpetually a fan of even if i don't post about them often:

Hollow Knight (all of it but Sly especially, also that fanfic Stag Beetles and Broken Legs)

Kirby (I like the Dark Matter Trilogy stuff)

Mario/Sm64

Petscop

Gildedguy

Interface (by Umami)

The Odyssey (i put this already but Polyphemus and Poseidon specifically)

The Dear Hunter (Acts)

let's be honest Captain Underpants is also probably on this list considering i first saw the movie in 2017 and i still like it now

The only things you are guaranteed to see consistently if you follow me:

Possession Adjacent Tropes™ and any medias (usually involving Possession Adjacent Tropes™) that i happen to get into. and also my Dumb Ass OCs . (and stupid shitpost crossovers with whatever my current fixation is + my Dumb Ass OCs)

[godteri-takk]

Fanart of @sangijazz 's fanfic Love MegaBytes on AO3!!!! The art is technically a spoiler but without context its fine, y'all should totally give it a read ^w^ its really angsty and disturbing at times so read the tags O.O

The scene where Stanley drops the bucket was especially jarring to me and even more in hindsight thats why i wanted to draw it QwQ

Please click image for better quality and ID below!

Stanley from the Stanley parable is portrayed as a middle aged man with dark brown hair, a fairy slim build, light skin and bags under his eyes. He's wearing grey trousers and a white shirt with a grey plaid pattern. He's standing with a shocked and confused facial expression, a slight blush on his face. The bucket is slipping out of his hand, bouncing off the floor with a loud "clank" sound effect in blue letters. Around his head are the words spoken by the virus infected narrator, in pink, glitched letters: "what will you do about it~?" The other drawings are a sketch of Stanley hugging the bucket and crying, and a closeup of Stanley with his hand clasped over his ear, bleeding heavily from it. He's crying and is gritting his teeth in a pained expression. Imagine description end.

[the-infinite-hole]

hi my ~realistic~ narry/reader broken marriage thoughts turned into a 3k word fanfic about trying to reconnect with him.

you're in the shower but you don't do anything xD

tentatively tagging @caltverkeys because i probably wouldn't have thought about it for so long if they hadn't expressed interest in my initial thoughts. :)

not that i expect ANYONE to actually read all 3k words of this silliness lol.

(*i wouldn't normally post whole fics to tumblr except this one probably wouldn't exist WITHOUT tumblr.)

sooo here ya go

...

...

...

When you hear the faucet squeak to life and smell his soap beginning to waft down the stairs, you smile because you know it means he's had a good day— or, at the very least, that he hasn't had a bad one, which is sometimes all you really need.

Sometimes.

Saying his name quietly to yourself (you know he can't hear you over the din of the water, but you feel like saying it anyway), you creep up the stairs, heading toward the bathroom at the end of the hall. The door is half-open, and through the noise you think you can detect him muttering something to himself.

His muttering doesn't bother you, though; it never has: Thinking out loud is something he's always done, and anyway, it's actually quite nice to hear his voice— especially when he's been flat-out ignoring you in favour of his own pursuits, which lately he's been doing quite a bit.

For days and days now, your Narrator (actually, he's your husband; however, he just as often insists upon being addressed by his own chosen title) has been holed up in his dark, smoky little office, working on his very own video game: His 'parable' as he likes to call it. He's been building it privately on his computer for as long as you've known him, adding dialogue and settings and characters and concepts at what most people would describe as his leisure.

At first, you were charmed by the strength of his creative drive— however, having been married to him for as many years as you have, you now know first-hand that there isn't actually anything 'leisurely' about the way your husband works on his game.

How long has it been, you think, since he last had a job— real job; a job that actually made him real-life money? How long has it been since the two of you last went out to dinner together...? Or entertained company, or took a trip—?

...You shake your head as you step into the bathroom, banishing both the thoughts and the hard, sticky bitterness clinging to them like old barnacles.

Not right now.

He's already standing under the water when you arrive, hidden safely behind the curtain: A mere silhouette, although over the years you've grown sadly accustomed to him being somewhat of a shadow to you. He spends so much time holed up with his game in that little office of his that sometimes you worry you're going to forget what he even looks like.

His glasses (at least those haven't changed) are resting on the edge of the sink; his pants are balled up on the floor with his socks. His shirt is hooked on the doorknob, its sleeves hanging just low enough to brush up against the worn linoleum tile peeling up from the edges of the floor. Even over the soap, you can smell the sweat on it; see the coffee stains, too. It feels like a long time since you've seen him undressed, and maybe even longer than that since you've seen him without his glasses.

It's embarrassing— you certainly wouldn't admit it out loud— but the god's honest truth is that you can hardly even recall what colour his eyes are anymore.

You bite down on your lip as your stomach ties itself in knots. You've been married to him for longer than you haven't been, but all of a sudden— right here and right now— you feel nervous: Like you're intruding, or crossing a boundary.

...Like you shouldn't even be here.

He's probably busy, you scold yourself. Busy trying not to get soap in his eyes; busy thinking about his game. Busy spending time in his head with Stanley.

'Stanley' isn't real, though, and neither is the game, no matter how much your Narrator seems to wish they were. You don't resent his inclination to retreat into himself so much as you wish you understood it; you knew he was prone to bouts of depression when you married him, and you would never begrudge him his feelings. But to witness him running headlong into a set of digital arms when you've been there for him in real-life all along...

Shh, quit it. Not right now.

No, you think, it isn't the right time to indulge your own misplaced jealously and pent-up bitterness any more than it's the right time to contemplate your husband's chronic lack of employment or unwillingness to join you for dinner. You didn't trail him in here to scold him; you can do that any time. No, you came in here to...

...to...

...wait.

Wait, what did you come in here for, anyway...?

He coughs from behind the shower curtain, maybe to let you know he's detected you; maybe just because he smokes too much. The sharpness of the scent of his soap and the headiness of the humidity in the air are what coax you back to reality; you're still frightened, but before you know it, you're peeling your own clothes off and discarding them to the floor right alongside his anyhow.

Could this be it, you ask yourself—? The thing you came for? Joining your husband (or your 'Narrator', or whoever the hell he thinks he is these days) for a shower is something you haven't done in years. What could possibly be possessing you to do it tonight?

What do you think you're going to gain from it— do you really think it's going to help?

Now less-than-sure of yourself, you almost give up right then: Put on a towel and scurry out of the bathroom; maybe to go and make some tea, or even just pretend to go to bed. But then— then— you think better of retreating, because what does it really matter whether or not it 'helps'? Running away is something he does; something he does, in fact, that you loathe. What kind of message would it send to him, if you went and did the very same thing...?

Whatever precipitated that well-timed cough of his, he already knows you're here: Quite simply, you can feel it. You don't need to ask.

Goosebumps pepper your skin as your throat seems to close in on itself; without meaning to, necessarily, you start taking steps: First one; then two, and three, and then finally (it feels like it takes a lot longer than it does), you're standing at the edge of the bathtub with your hand on the curtain, trying not to breathe too fast.

Perhaps in spite of yourself, you shoot a quick glance back in the direction of the mirror, just to make sure you're still smiling. If you're here because you love him, you reason, then shouldn't you greet him as though you're happy to see him?

Next, you pull back the curtain, letting out a hot puff of steam; after that, you lift a foot, stepping high over the lip of the tub and into the shower. He isn't facing you, but the source of the water instead; he also isn't washing his hair or his face, or anything else, for that matter. He isn't moving or talking, and he certainly isn't singing to himself the way he used to when you first got married. Really, all he seems to be doing is standing there: Stiffly, beneath the water, like a pillar of something soluble— something that wishes it would melt.

You place a hand on his shoulder from behind, and his back tenses beneath your touch. Your smile fades before he's even had a chance to see it; your breath catches, and already you're terrified you've made an awful mistake.

"I'm sorry," you start...

But then, he turns around.

Nearly choking on your own words, you stop as quickly as you started: Again, it's been practically forever since you last law his eyes.

They're green.

A beautiful, sparkling emerald green; as bright and brilliant as ever, almost as if in direct and deliberate defiance of all the things that so often seem to conspire to take him away from you. They're so lovely (and so lovely on him) that you're ashamed to have so flagrantly forgotten them. Then again, you think, maybe you were meant to forget them: Maybe he wanted you to.

"Don't be sorry," he says. "I'm almost finished."

Calm and cordial (entirely too cordial, actually) his spoken words come near-devoid of any particular intonation— betraying very little of the pain or confusion swirling about behind those pretty eyes of his. It's been like that for a long time; again, you sorely miss the sound of his voice, but he just doesn't seem to have it in him to use it the way he once did.

Not unless he's narrating for Stanley, anyway.

"I wasn't waiting for you to be finished," you tell him— trying as best you can to tamp down both your long-standing bitterness and your hope, lest either of them get the better of you.

His eyes dart to the side, as if he doesn't know what to say. He doesn't try to hide himself from you, and hasn't since you joined him; however, you know that's less because he's comfortable and more because he simply doesn't give a shit— about the way he looks; about the way you feel about him. The Narrator hardly seems to care about anything anymore.

Shut up. You're here because you love him anyway, remember?

"...You aren't?" he asks, voice creaking like an old door as he places a single hand on the slick tile wall beside him and keeps on refusing to look up at you.

"I'm not," you promise... tentatively reaching back out toward him, only to stop just short of actually touching his chest.

"Then why are you—"

"I just wanted to—"

"Just wanted to what?"

Clearly off to a less-than-stellar start, you bite your lip again. "...Let's not interrupt each other," you suggest, as gently as you can. Your hand is still hanging there between the two of you, resting in the air like a spectre. His body is shielding it from the water, and therefore the rest of you, too. You shiver— cold, now, in spite of the steam.

"...I'm sorry," he says, only barely audible over the insistent pattering of the water. Venturing to lift his head, he looks first at your hand; then, eventually, up at your face.

If nothing else, you suppose, his apology is at least sincere.

"You don't need to be sorry," you tell him... and (for now, anyway) it's the truth.

"...I wasn't lying when I said I was nearly finished," he mutters, shoulders shifting as though he's about to try and move past you. In desperation (desperation you hope to god he can't sense), you let that floating hand of yours finally make its landing: A gentle one, in the very centre of his chest, warm little rivulets of water flowing over and around it.

"Wait," you plead... pressing the tips of your fingers insistently into his skin.

"What for?" he asks back, having apparently grown uncomfortable enough with your presence that it's actually beginning to annoy him. You try not to let your heart sink; how many of your fights with him have started out precisely this way—?

"...Do you remember our first apartment?" you ask him, irreverent and hopeful and still not to be deterred. "The one with the leaky toilet and the irritable landlord?"

He sighs, pursing his lips. "...I do remember," he admits, if reluctantly. "He was always complaining about—"

"The water bill!" you blurt out— unable to resist finishing for him as an entirely unintentional grin flashes across your face.

Apparently unmoved, your Narrator shifts his weight from leg to leg. "I thought we were going to quit interrupting each other," he huffs... averting his gaze yet again, this time in favour of staring intently down at the water swirling around his own feet and down into the drain.

You hate admitting it, even to yourself, but you miss when he used to stare at you.

"...I'm sorry," you say, kicking yourself internally because you should have known better than to get excited.

"Anyway," he goes on tersely, "we haven't needed to share showers to save water for years— and so unless you're here to deliver some sort of unfavourable news with regard to our financial situation, I quite frankly don't see any reason for you to have joined me."

You almost wish you'd gone ahead and interrupted him again. Nonetheless, you curl your toes hard into the ceramic beneath your feet; having come this far, you aren't giving up on him.

Not yet.

Not tonight.

"If I told you that I just wanted to join you," you start, "then would that be a good enough reason?" Gazing down at your own hand as it rests on his chest, it dawns on you that you don't exactly have a whole lot of room to criticize his reluctance to make eye contact.

Looking up, you catch his gaze and hold it— maybe for as long as you've held it in years.

It isn't easy, but it's worth the effort... isn't it?

Already flush from the steam, you can't quite tell whether his cheeks have gone red, or whether he's merely grown too warm. "I— w-well, I suppose it would be," he spits out, "but... but, well, I... I..."

Mindful of his having chided you for it earlier, you refrain from cutting in, giving him a moment to try and finish. Only when it becomes evident that he isn't going to finish do you dare to prompt him.

"You what?" you ask— emphatically, yes, but also kindly; more curious, now, than impatient.

Your thumb begins to stroke gently at a damp tuft of hair on his chest. It's familiar, but in a way that feels distant, too: Like something you're remembering from a whole other life.

He focuses his gaze somewhere behind you, then: Past the shower curtain, in the direction of the bathroom door. He could very well be thinking about pushing right past you and bolting though it; in fact, it's more likely than not that he is— but if he's thinking about running, he must also be thinking about not running in equal measure, because (it'll seem almost miraculous, when you look back on it later), he doesn't so much as move a muscle.

He does cough again— maybe just clearing his throat.

You don't stop stroking that little wet tuft on his chest.

"I... well, I suppose I thought you didn't want to," he reveals, as earnestly as it feels like he's revealed anything to you in years.

For a moment, you feel newly ashamed... but then, of course, you feel frustrated: He thinks you're the one who didn't want to be with him—?!

You're aren't the one who spends every waking moment holed up in an office with their pixilated boyfriend.

...No, you remind yourself: Now isn't the time to bring up Stanley.

"Of course I want to!" you tell him back, and once more, it's the truth: Again, you didn't join him in the shower to berate him; you joined him because you love him— you always have, and even through everything, you've never stopped. You don't think you ever will. "We're still married, aren't we?" you ask, as your feet shift forward and a nervous, playful little lilt infiltrates your tone.

He blushes. There's no question about it this time, steam or no steam. He's always been prone to it, and (for better or worse) you've always loved making him turn red.

"I— I... w-well—"

As careful as ever, you close the remainder of the distance between the two of you— snaking a trembling arm around his waist in the process. His back seems to straighten out, but he doesn't try to pull away; you look into his eyes, and (maybe because he doesn't have anywhere else to look), he stares back into yours.

You don't say anything to him, but you do smile: Not bold enough to expect, perhaps... but certainly brave enough to hope.

He pauses, drawing a breath.

"...Y-yes," he finally manages. "Yes— yes, of course we're still married; it's just that— th-that—"

In lieu of interrupting him with words, you take yet another chance... this time by tilting your head (once again, in a way you haven't done in years), and shutting him up with a kiss.

It always used to work before.

You close your eyes, partly because you're scared; but also partly because of the fine spray misting out from behind him. The water pelting his back trickles over and around your hand; he breaths in, lungs expanding against your body in a way you never quite realized until just this moment how very much you missed.

...Maybe he misses it too, because the next thing you know, he's kissing you back.

He's really, actually kissing you back.

It's been so long since he last put his arms around you that you almost flinch when he does. He tastes, as always, like his favourite cigarettes; his lips are exactly as warm as you remember them. More grateful than ever to be surrounded by water, your eyes fill with tears; you know you shouldn't cry, but your body doesn't seem to care.

The pipes, old and lime-encrusted, whine from above you. Droplets tap-tap-tap against the plastic shower curtain; the drain gurgles from under your feet; and— somehow, suddenly— you're quite positive that you can hear the far-off droning of someone's car alarm, blaring faintly from outside.

Your Narrator himself, however, doesn't make a sound. He doesn't move, either... except to part his lips, and pull you even closer to him.

...Maybe, you think sadly to yourself, he really does need 'Stanley' as much as he seems to believe he does. Maybe he's depressed; maybe he's angry— maybe he's been touched by something he hasn't yet gathered the courage to reveal to you, and it's eating him up from the inside-out. You still don't know, any more than you know how to pull him out of his head and back into real life.

Right here, though— right here, in this very moment, steeping together like human tea in the warm, fragrant steam— your Narrator seems just as content to need you as he does to need his office, or his computer, or his best digital friend.

A kiss in the shower might not seem like a lot to some people, no... but to you it's something: A lot of something, in what often feels like a sad and lonesome sea of even more nothing.

It may not be able to singularly mend everything that's wrong with him (or with your marriage, or with you yourself), no: But tonight, it feels like enough.

Maybe— for now; from him— 'enough' really is all you need.

[mb-blue-roses]

Someone remind me to post my Dark Parables fic tomorrow

[celinou]

Thanks @lenorelovesmax for tagging me 🤍

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 2, currently. Well, more like one and a half baked scene that has no context, to be more accurate.

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 194.036 words.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? I have like the one fic, the other thing has 2 kudos. So... - A Walk in Chiaroscuro (354)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Yes, absolutely. It's pretty rare when I don't. I like to tell people that I appreciate their support and comments or to answer questions they might have about the story or the choice I made.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I don't do angsty endings. I'm too old and too jaded by life to appreciate them anymore. I'm at a point in my life where I need to know there's hope and happiness at the end of the line.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I'm guessing there will be some kind of repetition since I've only published Awic... Soooo, it's a Walk in Chiaroscuro! ...but if you want to know about the ones that I keep in my drawer never to see the light of AO3, the happiest ending goes to Let's Write a Love Story (it's a Homestuck fanfic)

8. Do you get hate on fics? No. I'm writing in a mostly dead fandom so far and for kind of a rare pair so, people have been starved of content. They were so nice and sweet to me in the comments.

9. Do you write smut? I wish! I don't have the chops for it but I so wish I could write good smut! Honestly it's something I really want to push myself into exploring. Unfortunately your girl is a bit too vanilla in her taste which makes for poor reading. I don't fear being bad... I fear being boring, you know?

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've ever written? I've never done that, no. But who knows what future will lead me to write.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? No. I don't have enough reach to be the target of theft.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope. And tbh I don't have the patience to translate it myself in my native language.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Could have... but no. There was an attempt at a joined project for Dragon Age but, unfortunately, it didn't work out in the end. I'm not abandoning the idea of writing for Dragon Age but I'll probably go in a very different direction since it would be a solo project.

14. What's your all time favorite ship? I... don't have one... Yeah, I'm not much of a shipper at the core. I mean I did write for Caulscott but I practically ship Max with everybody in LIS so... I was more interested by Nathan's potential as a love interest more than the ship itself. Outside of LIS... I can't think of any ship rn, I'm afraid.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? Tough question. If I abandoned a project I don't consider it a WIP. It's a dropped thing that goes in the reusable idea bin... and if I'm still working on it, I don't go into thinking I won't finish it. So, it's hard to say really. To not leave you with such a vague answer, I'll give you this: the fic I planned to write about the Hidden Object Games series Dark Parable, that never took off and never will (for I have better/much more attractive projects to work on). It's a dropped thing. But now you can see I have weird and obscure taste.

As for original projects: I have a Horror RPG project that probably won't ever see the light of day, called: The Clockmaker. (because I realized I'm shit at pixel art, tragic)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? Hum... No. I don't mind people doing it but I tried it myself in my pirate epic and, let me tell you, I'm not that good a multilingual as to be witty in more than 2 languages. I found what I wrote cringe af when I read back my text in the editing phase and scrapped it all out.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Homestuck. I started writing fics very late in my life. (I wrote original stuff before that)

20. Favourite fic you've ever written? A Walk in Chiaroscuro. Because it's the only fic I went into unafraid to write what I wanted without thinking about who might read it. And to this day it's the truer work I've put out. Not the most personal by any stretch but the one I indulged in the most. And I'm so proud of it. Flaws and all.

I tag @sourrind and @momochizoey if you feel like doing it. And everybody who'd want to as well, consider yourself tagged, friend!

[an-theduckin]

Any tsp fanfics recommendations? :3 (Esp either hurt/comfort or lovebug AU lol)

YESSS HEHE

Divorcees - 6/? Chapters

My fave tsp fic ever. It's a humanised au, slow burn fic :3

The butterfly dream - 6/6 Chapters

Stanley escapes the Parable, has an existential crisis, Narrator is nowhere to be seen. There's illustrations in the fic too! And dw, it's very angsty but it has a happy ending.

The Holiday Dlc - 8/8 Chapters

Holidays (valentines, christmas, etc) celebrated in the parable! iirc Stanley n Narrator make out in every Holiday Ending in this fic lmao. But, it has a dark twist to it. (Happy ending tho)

I also recommend searching for the author "honeysucklethornsandalligatorhorns" since theyve write lots of awesome tsp fics!

[sangijazz]

Love MegaBytes - a LoveBug AU Stanley x shadow!Narrator fanfic

Chapter 5

----

Notes:

- Content Warnings:

- Viral Corruption;

- Gaslighting and Emotional Manipulation (by both parties);

- Obsessive Behavior;

- Unhealthy Possessive Behavior;

I don’t think that the contents of this chapter are heavy and/or explicit enough to warrant the skip-summary treatment, I hope I’m right, I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.

And I also apologize in advance if my depiction of sign language is wrong, feel free to correct me.

—

General Notes:

They /them pronouns for the Timekeeper;

They/them pronouns for the Bucket;

I made a little playlist for you, my dears, with songs that I listen to when writing Love MegaBytes (and in general really)

Here

I like stalker songs, there are some odd ones there but they are my Stannarrator songs. I accept recommendations for new songs for the playlist!

Some typos in the dialog are intentional.

I hope the zalgo is readable ;p but if it isn’t there is a transcript at the end of the chapter.

Enjoy~

----

In recollection, resetting might have been a bad idea, but everyone knew it was the only chance. Pink, pulsating, vein-like ruptures assaulted his opening eyes, it was on, in, everything, and everywhere . The ominous throbbing rose light coming out of them was the only thing illuminating the place. Stanley could see from his trapped position, chunks of the wall were missing, much like that little hole that began this all, the headache-inducing green binary he remembered, now laid bare and broken now too with that pink color, they were also bare, his drawings, all gone, stolen? Eaten? Were more things missing?!

Desperately, he darted his gaze to his hand, checking for that same corruption in himself. There was nothing, his model looked untouched.

“O̴k̵a̸y̴,̷ ̵S̸t̴_n̴l̷e̷y̷ ̵d̶e̵a̵r̸.̴ ̶L̷e̷t̴’̶s̵ ̸s̶t̷a̷_t̶ ̸t̴h̷i̷s̶ ̶a̶g̴_i̸n̸”

The voice that rang through the parable was as familiar as ever, but together with it the maddening glitches worsened, now the words were coming out even more broken, repeating, pieces missing.

Now, again in this paralyzed state, his plan seemed flimsy and not that good, too much like last time, he felt the dread and uncertainty quickly creeping through his coded nerves.  

“T̷r̵y̷ ̴t̴o̶ ̶f̸o̶l̴_w̸ ̷t̴h̷e̶ ̴s̸c̴r̴i̷p̴t̷ ̸t̸h̷i̶s̵ ̵t̸i̴m̸e̸,̶ ̷a̴l̶r̶i̵g̶h̵t̸,̵ ̵d̷_r̵l̵i̴n̸g̵?̴~̶”

The pulse of the light created stark shadows that looked oh-so alive, and all-consuming. The contrasting forces battled for dominance and also worked together to swallow all. 

The Narrator cleared its nonexistent throat, the cue to begin.

“T̵h̵i̶s̴ ̴i̵s̴ ̴a̸ ̷s̴t̴o̶r̷y̸ ̸o̸f̵ ̸a̸n̸ ̸a̷m̴_z̶i̴n̶g̷ ̷m̶a̶n̶ ̴n̵a̴m̷_d̴ ̶S̷t̴a̷_l̶e̶y̵~̸”

Taking the situation into consideration, it would be better to play smart (how he didn’t think of this before is more evidence he wasn’t the smart one), starting to run now would probably be a bad strategy, waiting for a better opportunity closer to the Curator then give chase. Stanley almost felt proud of this one, he prayed it would work.

Surprisingly, the screen of his computer blinked to life, the disparity of its black-gray background and white font against the pink roots covering its surface.

"Hello?!1! 

Is anybody there?!?!1?

What the hell is going on?!!?1?"

[??]   [??]

Is that…

IS  THAT THE TIMEKEEPER?!

Oh, thank the gods, Stanley wasn’t alone! There was another being just as confused and terrified as him. If only he could move he would answer them, send a life signal and assure them they weren’t alone. This made Stanley’s core sprout a wee bit of hope. Were the Narrator and the Parable the only affected?  This could be proven to be beneficial, if everyone else was still sound of mind. The dark being was still talking, but its words weren’t registering correctly, they were almost too mangled to understand.

“ –d̵i̸d̷ ̵e̵v̵_r̸y̶ ̵d̶a̸y̸ ̴o̴f̷ ̸e̸v̴e̷r̷y̸ ̴m̵o̸n̷_h̵–”

 The second he was allowed to move, he would find a way to click a button as an answer, for the Timekeeper’s sake.

Stanley took a deep breath, ‘siking himself up to put up to the task of pretending he wasn’t scared shitless. His body shook with fear, as the Narrator got near the end of the introduction. Keep it steady, Stanley. He had a task to do.

“S̷o̷ ̶w̷i̴t̸h̶ ̶a̵ ̶s̴_i̴l̸e̶,̸ ̷h̵e̷ ̵g̶o̶t̸ ̸u̷p̵ ̸f̵r̵o̵m̵ ̷h̵i̶s̸ ̸d̶e̴_k̵ ̸a̶n̸d̴ ̷s̶t̵e̴p̸p̶e̶d̶ ̶o̷u̸t̶ ̴o̵f̶ ̶h̵i̵s̵ ̸o̸f̵f̷_c̴e̵.̴”

As soon the engine read and loaded the line that gave him movement, he let his hands fall, purposely letting them hit the keyboard’s key and he hoped it was enough of n answer for them.

Thankfully it was since the effect was instantaneous as more words in white font appeared like they were frantically typed, not caring for spelling.

"Stamley?!?!? Are you okay??! Do you now what th e fuck is going on!?!"

This was unfortunately, that was all he could do – without drawing too much attention or letting the Narrator get impatient – no matter how much he wanted to.  Now, he had to play along, he would ask for forgiveness later.

Before the watcher entity could voice its impatience with threats, the avatar stood up, did his best to crack a smile like it wanted, and made what the narration asked for.

All he could see was in the same state as the 427 office and here made Stanley realize how he missed the low humming of the fluorescent light that was much better than the eldritch and indescribable sound of code falling apart hammering bass inside his head, assaulting his ears. 

All the Office’s usual colors were muted, gray-scaled except for that bright pink, that the vessel swore that he would hate for his whole life, and now he feared his retinas were permanently stained with that shade. His smile threatened to falter.

“O̵h̶!̸ ̵S̶o̶_e̴o̵n̸e̸ ̸i̷s̶ ̵e̶a̴g̶e̶r̶!̷~̶” beamed the Narrator, thankfully not noticing the minor stumble. “N̶o̴w̵,̸ ̷g̵o̷ ̸o̶n̷,̶ ̶l̷o̴v̴e̷,̴ ̷t̸o̵ ̷o̸u̸r̸ ̸f̷a̵v̸o̵r̷i̸t̵e̸ ̸d̸o̴o̷r̷s̷!̴ ̵A̵n̴d̸,̴” the voice dropped to a lower tone “D̷o̷n̴’̷t̵ ̴f̸o̴_g̸e̵t̴ ̴t̸o̸ ̵ f̶o̷l̷l̶o̶w̸ ̷m̶y̸ ̵e̵_e̵r̶y̷ ̵w̸o̷r̴d̷,̶ ̴w̴e̴ ̸b_t̴h̸ ̸w̵a̴n̷t̷ ̶f̴o̵r̶ ̴y̸o̴u̵ ̶t̴o̶ ��g̶e̵t̵ ̵t̴o̶ ̵t̵h̶e̸ ̷s̸u̷r̵_r̴i̶s��e̷,̵ ̷r̶i̸g̷h̵t̸,̶ ̵S̵t̸a̷n̶l̷e̶y̶ ̷d̶e̸a̵r̸?̷~̴”

Nodding with fake excitement, Stanley began to carefully take steps forward since the floor also was being eaten, with holes leading to the eternal void where the parable was situated. The computers’ screens shone with errors and random ciphers. Everything was breaking.

In the next room of cubicles, on their usual spot, shone the Bucket in the darkness, untouched by the infection, a beacon of hope. The sight made the man hurry to embrace his old friend, the metallic creature eagerly embracing him too, and reassuring him they were fine. The action generated no comment from the Narrator, thankfully, it had gone unnoticed or seen as unimportant, maybe it was still in the mind set they were still a nonsentient object.

The Bucket asked if he had a plan and he hugged them tighter against his chest and nodded slightly, it was half-baked however it was all he had. They comforted him, assuring him it would work.

“S̵t̷_n̷l̷e̵y̵ ̶n̸e̷v̸e̸r̵ ̷h̴a̵d̷ ̴c̷o̴w̴o̷r̷k̸_r̴s̴ ̶t̴o̸ ̸b̴e̴g̵i̵n̷ ̸w̶i̵t̵h̴,̴ ̷t̶h̷e̴ ̶O̵f̵f̵i̵c̵e̶ ̸w̶_s̸ ̵o̶n̷l̸y̶ ̶f̶o̴r̵ ̴h̵i̸m̵ ̸a̸n̸d̴ ̷t̴h̷e̵ ̵N̵a̷r̸r̷a̸t̴_r̸.̸ ̴N̸o̶ ̴o̶n̵e̶ ̸t̴o̴ ̶t̷a̸k̶e̵ ̸f̸r̴_m̴ ̵e̷a̵c̷h̷ ̷o̷t̴h̴e̷r̴.̶"

The collision was still active, the Bucket told him as they saw Stanley hesitate next to a big hole in the hallway, he wouldn’t fall. 

“H̸_v̸e̵ ̴I̶ ̴e̶v̴e̸r̵ ̸t̶o̴l̵d̸ ̷y̶o̵u̵ ̴h̶o̵w̵ ̷m̴_c̵h̷ ̵I̸ ̷l̴o̶v̷e̵ ̵y̶o̵u̸?̴ ̴Y̷o̶u̷ ̵a̴r̷e̶ ̶s̸o̵ ̶p̵r̸_c̸i̶o̴u̷s̵ ̷t̷o̴ ̵m̵e̴,̶ ̴m̶y̶ ̸l̴i̴t̴t̵l̷e̷ ̴c̶r̷e̸a̴t̸i̴o̴n̵…̵” it seemed to be monologuing not really looking for an answer “W̷i̸t̶h̵o̷u̴t̸ ̸y̷o̵u̸,̶ ̷h̶o̶w̵ ̸c̸o̸u̴l̸d̷ ̵I̶ ̴e̴x̴i̷s̶t̶?̶ ̸W̸i̶t̶h̶o̸_t̷ ̶m̵e̶,̵ ̵w̶h̵o̸ ̶w̴o̷u̴l̴d̷ ̴y̶_u̸ ̵b̸e̷,̵ ̸u̶h̸,̶ ̷m̵y̸ ̸d̴a̶r̷l̸i̶_g̵?̵” it growled, sounding so possessive “M̵i̸n̸e̶,̸ ̴m̶_n̶e̶,̶ ̷m̷i̴_e̸~̴” it spat as the avatar turned the corner like an only-child throwing a fit because they hated to share their toys, but stopped as they got to the next relevant stop on their journey.

Like always, Stanley found himself in front of the two doors. Now, he just needed to go through the left door– 

“W̸h̷e̶n̴,̸ ̵m̷y̶ ̶d̵a̴r̴l̴i̷n̷g̴ ̵S̴t̴a̵n̷l̶e̸y̵,̵ ̸c̵a̸m̴e̴ ̶t̸o̸ ̶a̶ ̸s̵e̷t̴ ̶o̸f̷ ̵t̵w̸o̷ ̴o̵p̵e̸n̴ ̴d̵o̸o̴r̶s̴,̶ ̶h̷e̷ ̵e̵n̸t̴e̸r̸e̷d̵ ̴t̷h̸e̶ ̸d̷o̵o̵r̷ ̶o̵n̶ ̷h̵i̶s̸ ̶r̴i̷g̷h̵t̷ .̷” even with the distortion, the entity had an audible smug smirk.

The vessel’s eyes widen with horror and surprise. That was not good. Not at all. Shit. Stanley didn’t want to begin running right now. Shit. Breathe and think. Think!

 The Narrator laughed with self-satisfaction, it was expecting that surprised reaction from him.

“O̸h̸,̷ ̴I̴ ̶k̴n̶_w̷,̶ ̵d̵e̴a̵r̴!̸~̶ ̸I̶s̶n̶’̸t̵ ̶t̷h̴i̴s̴ ̸e̷x̷c̶i̷t̵_n̸g̶?̸!̸~̵” it beamed with delight “N̸_w̸,̷ ̷I̴ ̷k̵n̷o̵w̵ ̵t̵h̶a̶t̴ ̶y̶o̸u̷ ̶l̷o̴v̴e̸ ̵t̵o̵ ̷g̴o̷ ̴a̴g̶_i̶n̸s̸t̵ ̶m̴y̷ ̶n̷a̸r̶r̷_t̸i̶o̷n̵,̸ ̶a̴n̷d̵ ̷a̷s̷ ̷m̵u̶c̷h̵ ̶a̶s̵ ̸I̶ ̸l̵o̷v̸e̴ ̵i̸t̸ ̸w̵h̵_n̶ ̵y̶o̴u̷ ̴a̶r̵e̷ ̸a̶ ̶b̵r̷a̸t̵,̷ ̴I̷ ̸w̸o̶u̷l̵d̵ ̵a̶d̵v̷i̸s̷e̵ ̷y̶o̵u̵ ̸t̴o̴ ̷g̴o̴ ̴t̸h̷r_o̵u̵g̶h̸ ̶t̴h̵e̸ ̶r̵i̶g̸h̵t̵ ̵d̴o̷o̶r̴~̴ ”

A terrified mind raced to find a way out as he slowly stepped forward. He needed to get to the Museum. Shit. Think, think, THI– Ah ha! 

It was awkward to sign with the Bucket but he did it anyway. What if I want to do the Freedom Ending, Narrator? He signed making sure and clear he used its name-sign, the sign for N together with the sign of Story. The entity had never seen it before, he was sure. It was worth a try.

The being made an inquisitive glitched noise “W̵_a̷t̸ ̷w̷a̷s̶ ̸t̵h̷a̸t̴ ̵l̵a̸s̶t̵ ̵s̸i̵g̸n̵,̴ ̴d̵e̴a̴r̸?̴ ̶I̵ ̴h̵a̶_e̴n̵’̷t̶ ̶s̷e̵e̵n̴ ̴i̶t̶ ̷b̷e̷_o̴r̸e̷…̸” good, he got its attention “C̴o̸_l̷d̸ ̷y̷o̴u̶ ̸d̴o̴ ̵i̵t̴ ̴a̴g̷a̴_n̵?̵” so he did “N̸…̵?̴S̷t̴o̸r̷y̵.̴.̶?̷–̵” it gasped, finally getting it “I̶s̸–̶ ̷i̶s̵ ̶t̸h̴a̴t̵ ̵a̷ ̵n̴_m̵e̶-̸s̵i̴g̶n̵?̷!̶ ̸F̷o̵_ ̵m̴e̵?̴!̴ ̷M̷-̷m̴y̷ ̸n̸a̶m̶e̶-̷s̶i̴_n̶?̷” it asked unsure but extremely hopeful and squeaked when Stanely nodded and he couldn’t help but smile at little because, Gods, how cute was its reaction. If it only this was his Narrator.

“O̴h̸,̶ ̴S̷t̴a̸_l̷e̸y̸…̷” the was so much obvious emotion in its voice, the entity was feeling giddy, and he was sure if it had blood it would be blushing furiously, this made the man instantly him feel bad for using something so dear to him to manipulate the only one he loved. The Bucket tried to reassure him that it was necessary, they had to get away. The other will forgive him when it sees reason, they told him. The Narrator giggled dreamily to itself “O̸h̴,̴m̶y̶~̶ ̵H̸o̷w̸-̶h̷_w̵ ̷c̷o̸u̵l̸d̶ ̷I̸ ̵r̸e̶_u̸s̶e̸ ̵t̸h̵a̶t̸ ̷w̴_s̶h̴ ̸a̶f̷t̵e̷r̷ ̶t̸h̶a̶t̵?̵!̴” it exclaimed “I̷ ̵w̵o̴u̶_d̶ ̷b̶e̴ ̴v̶e̴r̸y̸ ̶h̴a̵_p̷y̵ ̷t̶o̸ ̸g̷o̸ ̵t̸h̴r̵_u̸g̵h̷ ̵t̸h̵e̶ ̶F̵r̴e̵_d̷o̵m̶ ̵E̸n̸d̴i̸n̸g̸ ̵w̵i̶t̴h̵ ̶y̴o̶u̸~̴”

Stanley smiled at the defective ceiling, at it. The cleaning-throat sound effect played.

“W̶_e̵n̸,̸ ̸m̶y̸ ̷d̷a̵r̵l̵i̶n̴g̴ ̵S̸t̷a̵_l̸e̵y̶,̴ ̷c̵a̴m̴e̸ ̶t̵o̸ ̸a̷ ̷s̷e̷t̵ ̷o̴f̶ ̶t̴w̸o̸ ̴o̵p̶e̷n̴ ̶d̴o̸o̴r̸s̴,̷ ̷h̴e̴ ̶e̶_t̴e̶r̸e̷d̵ ̴t̶h̴e̴ ̷d̸o̸o̶r̵ ̴o̶n̶ ̷h̷i̶s̶ ̷l̶_f̴t̴.̴”

Relief filled the duo as Stanley stepped through the left door.

----

Transcript:

“Okay, Stanley dear. Let’s start this again.”

"Try to follow the script this time, alright, darling?~"

“This is a story of an amazing man named Stanley~”

“ –did every day of every month–”

“So with a smile, he got up from his desk and stepped out of his office.”

“Oh! Someone is eager!~”

“Now, go on, love, to our favorie doors! And,” 

”Don’t forget to follow my every word , we both want for you to get to the surprise, right, Stanley dear?~” 

“Stanley never had coworkers to begin with, the Office was only for him and the Narrator. No one to take from each other.”

“Have I ever told you how much I love you? You are so precious to me, my little creation…”

“Without you, how could I exist? Without me, who would you be, uh, my darling?” 

“Mine, mine, mine!”

“When, my darling Stanley, came to a set of two open doors, he entered the door on his right.” 

“Oh, I know, dear!~ Isn’t this exciting?!~”

“Now, I know that you love to go against my narration, and as much as I love it when you are a brat, I would advise you to go through the right door~ ”

“What was that last sign, dear? I haven’t seen it before…”

“Could you do it again?”

“N…?Story..?–”

“Is– is that a name-sign?! For me?! M-my name-sign?”

“Oh, Stanley…”

“Oh,my~ How-how could I refuse that wish after that?!”

“I would be very happy to go through the Freedom Ending with you~”

“When, my darling Stanley, came to a set of two open doors, he entered the door on his left.“

----

Notes:

Hey there, my darlings! (◍>ᴗ<)ﾉｼ

I missed you all too

My life went to shit for some time (and not the shit that makes you inspired, unfortunately) so I had a massive creative block since then

But here I am again, back to you, my dearest. ( ᐢ˙꒳˙ᐢ )

You can thank the DDos attack on ao3 (and consequently it being down) for getting me to return to writing this fic, due to boredom and fear of spiraling from fanfiction abstinence.

A surprise Timekeeper appearance! And the Bucket too! So happy to see them here! More characters to torture~ o(*>ω<*)o

I'm almost finished with Chapter 6's draft as I write these notes, so I hope it will be posted in three weeks or so but as always, no promises.

I never expected this fic to be more than 3 chapters long but now here we are…

Thankfully, I already know how this is going to go and then end! I won't say much to not spoil it for you all (´⊙ω⊙`) but let's say…

It will be for all tastes and hopes~

Thank you for your comments and kudos, you know how much I appreciate them.

You are all my dears and I love y'all! (*´∀`)~

[merquplex]

Welcome!

⭐︎ ☆ ⭐︎

- About -

This is my super epic blog which I mainly use for professor layton (and that one guy with the dark blue hat) with the very occasional multifandom reblog as I do not care to make a side blog

(other media I like: portal, stanley parable)

I'm a 24 year old chronically ill they/them from england who's only joy in life is putting clive in a hydraulic press so i can escape from the crushing weight of reality

Daily posts and reblogs. Lots of clive posting (sorry) as he's my current hyperfixation

⭐︎

- My Art -

You are free to use my layton fandom art as or in:

・profile pics on all platforms (with credit in your bio)

・phone or desktop wallpaper (personal use only)

・headers on all platforms (with credit in your bio)

・edits (with credit in the post)

・fanfic covers (with credit)

Selling my art / reposting my art / feeding my art into AI generators is prohibited

You can request art, just send me an ask! I am slow at drawing however, so it may take some time to complete

Unless specified within the tags or post itself, If I draw two or more characters together - it is not ship art

⭐︎ ☆ ⭐︎

- Ships -

My ships are ranlay, melina x janice, layton x claire, clive x hydraulic press

- Other -

It's totally ok to message/reblog/interact in general

For my edits, the exact same rules for my art apply here

You are allowed to repost my memes, just don't claim you made it!

If you would like me to add a specific tag to my posts or reblogs, please message or ask me!

⭐︎ ☆ ⭐︎

[hiddenobject-fanblog]

Introduction Post

Hello and welcome! This is my main blog that I've now repurposed into a Hidden Object Game-fanbased space. My pronouns are they/them and you may call me "Rainbow"!

My favorite HOPA games:

Brink of Consciousness: Dorian Gray Syndrome

Weird Park: Broken Tune + Scary Tales

Whispered Secrets: Morbid Obsession

Mystery Legends: The Phantom of the Opera

Nightmares From the Deep: The Cursed Heart

Bonfire Stories: The Faceless Gravedigger + Heartless

Other games/series I've played:

Engimatis and Ghost Files series + lots of Artifex Mundi games

Mystery Case Files

Dark Parables (Not too invested in them, though, sorry!)

True Fear: Forsaken Souls 1 & 2

Otherworld: Spring of Shadows (Currently playing the other games)

Seeker's Notes: Hidden Objects

Phantasmat (Currently playing the other games)

The Invisible Man

-And many more!

On this blog, I plan to share & create content, headcanons, theories, fanart, reviews, fanfiction, etc. based upon Hidden Object games. You can send me an ask about the games I post, for mine/your own recommendations, and/or anything! Feel free to DM me as well. I'd love to meet other people that play these games!

More information below the cut:

My sideblogs are as listed:

@tnbc-thoughtsandheadcanons (Nightmare Before Christmas fanblog) @rainbows-fanfics (Fanfiction/writing blog) @rainbowfox-art (Art/reference blog) @piecesofchess (Pirate101 fanblog) @rainbowthefox (Personal blog, where I first posted about Hidden Object games) @haveyouplayedthispinball (Poll blog for pinball machines)

--If you see me following you, it may be for any of these fanbases. I cannot change my Main blog, so please bear with me. <3

Additional Info:

-I try to tag all potentially upsetting/triggering material. If I missed anything, feel free to let me know in a DM! I will tag/delete posts properly.

-Please do not repost, trace, or steal my art without permission.

-While I am 21+, please don’t send me NSFW-related anonymous asks. I’d rather talk about that with people I know personally and not anonymously.

-My icon is Curioso from Whispered Secrets: Morbid Obsession (drawn by @/psychicaves), and my header is Oscar from Brink of Consciousness: Dorian Gray Syndrome! (Drawn by @/mosswyrmz)

-Please do not send any anonymous hate, and keep an open mind that I have personal opinions on the games I play.