#not very good but yk

[thegreatsolaris]

✨Short TSP Drabble✨

I wanted to write Stanley and Narrators first real interaction so I quickly typed this up. I don’t think I’ll write more of this soon so I wanted to get it out.

I’ll post it to Ao3 eventually but for now

I hope you like this!!

————————————————

Those beautiful blue skies stretched far into the distance.

Stanley used to feel like anything was possible looking out into this world, but as the same script rambled on above him, he couldn’t help but tire of it all. He wanted something new and exciting. That’s all he really needed! Just a good change of pace.

Stanley tried to will his hands to move.

“And Stanley was…”

Stanley pointed towards his nose twisting his hand then flicked his hand away in a lazy manner.

“EXCUSE ME???”

Stanley jumped.

This was the first time the narrator had actually responded to anything he’d done. Of course, the script could fool him sometimes into thinking that someone was actually speaking to him, but when it’s the same every time… it’s hard to believe it’s not a bizarre recording.

This was not a part of the script here? What is this?

Stanley stared at the blue sky wondering if this was all a hallucination. Again.

“Oh? Nothing to say for yourself, you ingrate?” He swore he could almost feel the building around him get tenser. The metal creaked beneath his feet. He desperately tried not to faint.

Stanley hesitantly raised both his hands pointing back and forth between himself and the sky (where he assumed the voice was coming from).

“Yes, I’m talking to You, Stanley,” the voice huffed.

[Stanley couldn’t think of what to say. Thankfully the Narrator was voicing his thoughts for him. Part of him assumed that the voice was a recording at some point. Stanley wondered if he should be freaking out more, but he was just surprised! Why the voice hadn’t spoken to him before? Could he alway do this? Surely he’s done way worse than offhandedly saying he was bored…]

“Irritable, sure, you always are, but you have never voiced any of this directly at me. I’m not the one here guilty of not trying to communicate! You never say anything to me!”

That… is probably true… Stanley shrugged.

“I CANT BELIEVE- Hold on, I-“ some papers shuffled and the voice got a little farther away as a chair rolled, “This conversation isn’t over.”

Stanley furrowed his brow waiting for-

THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE EN

Stanley blinked back to reality to see he was sitting in his office once more.

“Okayyy,” the Narrator’s chair sounded like it rolled back over to him, “Now let’s have a chat. You and I. We’ve been working well together for a long time now, despite your issues… Is there something wrong with my story, Stanley? Is there a reason you’re so bored with my life’s work!? I’ll have you know I’ve been working very hard- WILL YOU LISTEN?!”

Stanley stopped pressing buttons on the keyboard to look up.

“I’m really trying to have a serious conversation with you here, Stanley! Face to face!” The lights flickered briefly.

[ He rolled his eyes at the ceiling all smug, “What face?” Stanley laughed to himself. ]

“You’re very funny, Stanley… Is this about you having a default model or nothing at all when it’s Not. Even. Necessary?” The walls shook slightly in irritation.

[“It wasn’t but it definitely is now.” Stanley mused. It was more intended to poke fun at his Narrator for being so elusive for all these years. It’s hard to take a disembodied voice seriously. Although….. Now that he thinks of it, his hands and body do randomly disappear…]

“You’re bothered by my lack of a face?! Seriously?!” The building made a noise like it was about to cave in, “I don’t need one! I’m not even an actual character in the story! I’m the Narrator! I read the script! As a matter of fact, you don’t even need a body or face! It’s not important! This is a first person game with no other players!”

[ “You asked,” Stanley would cross his arms if he felt like he had any right now, “What kind of a writer can’t even take a little bit of constructive criticism?”]

“Fine! Fine! No, I really see how it is! Sure!”

Stanley waited for more. The Narrator loved to talk after all, but he was scarily quiet.

There was a slight ambient noise when Stanley strained his hearing.

Frantic typing. Mouse clicks. Scratching of pens and pencils on paper. Occasionally a mutter or deep breath from the Narrator.

Stanley stared a the ceiling listening to the sounds of him working. It was odd. And yet… Something felt different. He couldn’t explain it but it did. He felt more… there. More present…

“Are you ready to talk, Stanley?” Narrator sounded like it was right above him. Not like the general sense, but literally right above his head. He had a bad feeling.

Then the walls started creaking loudly. Cracks splintered along the ceiling as bright yellow fingers pushed their way in.

He fell off his chair in shock, trying to get away.

The top of his office was easily pulled away like the lid on a can to reveal a big smiling face in a black void.

Stanley’s first thought was that he looked like a giant mouse cursor.

Greying hair swept to the side with a yellow arrow streaked through his hair twisting up like a smile. His skin looked grey as well. His eyes were almost hidden behind a square pair of yellow tinted glasses. A smile stretched across his face. The phrase “tombstone teeth” sprung the Stanley’s mind. He wore a black suit with a highlighter yellow tie that was currently jabbing him in the chest.

Honestly, he looked like an odd abstraction of an older businessman.

“Is this better for you?” This is the most self assured man Stanley had even seen in his life, “As a skilled writer, director, producer, developer, actor, I could go on, I obviously can take some criticism.”

Stanley was pretty sure he had a 50/50 shot of getting killed if he criticized anything right now.

“Obviously, you seem to have… critiques,” Narrator ground his teeth and the arrow in his hair spiked downwards, “Perhaps, it’s time I get back to work… In the meantime, you can do what you like. I’ll take and comments into… consideration…”

Stanley stared at the arrow stabbing into his chest. It didn’t go away. His body felt more permanent.

He smiled up at his bizarre new companion. Well, not new per say but…

Stanley pointed at the abstract man with a smile then cupped his ear.

“I- uh“ he stuttered while turning pink. His tie pulled back to wrap around the Narrator, “Of course I was listening to you, Stanley. I want you to like my game. Besides, it only makes sense to have a proper model for my main character!”

[Stanley could get used to the company. He could feel the smile on his face, “Especially with company as cute as this.”]

“AH! THATS IT!”

The Narrator covered his face, “I think I liked you better when you didn’t talk to me! I’m working! I can’t see you!” He pulled up a stack of papers from somewhere (?) and started to write.

Stanley sat back in his chair.

What a nice change of pace.

[queerofthedagger]

the thing i feel people don't really take enough into account when it comes to arthur's supposed obliviousness regarding merlin's magic is that merlin is the absolute opposite of what arthur has been raised to believe sorcerers to be. merlin is clumsy and kind and - in the earlier seasons - like walking sunshine. he so obviously has negative desire for actual power, nor any respect for it, and while arthur absolutely knows that merlin isn't stupid, he 100% is an idiot.

and it's not stupid or ignorant on his part! people just do this, whenever they are taught someone who does or believes a certain thing is inherently evil! it's never the friendly guy next door who snacks half of your breakfast and then just grins when you complain, obviously not! arthur trusts merlin even early on, and beyond belief later on. of course merlin can basically do magic in front of him, because there is no part of arthur that actually thinks someone like merlin could have magic. you don't see what you're 100% convinced can't be there. if he ever got there, his already brittle construct of indoctrination and supposed repeated confirmation of said construct would crumble immediately! as it does in dotd after like, a day. it only doesn't in regards to morgana because as far as arthur is concerned, the moment she started using magic she became the cold and ruthless enemy he still couldn't bring himself to actually pursue! like.

it's very easy to think it's startingly oblivious, but one thing i really wish people would keep in mind a little more is that the viewer watches from a different point of view, and operates with a whole other set of information. that arthur operates under a certain worldview in an environment that does not teach to question it at all, and gives little opportunity to do so. it's actually wild arthur questions uther's teachings as often as he does, and considering that every time he does, they, to his knowledge, just get confirmed again (nimueh, morgause, morgana, uther's death, and so on and so forth), it's even wilder that he keeps doing it

[moonkhao]

EST SUPHA as PO and WILLIAM JAKRAPATR as THAMEin Thame - Po ・HEART THAT SKIPS A BEAT (2024ISH)

[stefisdoingthings]

i put my hand near my mouth so i know i'm still breathing

[nhyhu]

i miss them

(click for better quality!!) process and old version below

[critterofthenight]

i don't have an angel and a devil on my shoulder, i have Laszlo and Lestat, and they are both giving me terrible but impressively bitchy advice

[m1d-45]

will you promise that i'll see you again?

summary: your people refuse reason, and their damage refuses to heal. when it seems as if the whole world has left you, your dutiful knight still remains by your side.

word count: 2.3k

-> warnings: implied suicidal ideation (reader + unnamed side character), reader's previous deaths are mentioned in somewhat graphic detail

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @yuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

“you’re one of the only things keeping me going, you know.”

dainslef turned to you in surprise, the even neutrality to your tone a sharp contrast to the rapid pace of his heart. he wasn’t a fool, he knew that the hunt had to be taking a heavy toll on you, but this…

this was more than he expected.

he knew he was one of a pitiful few who saw through celestia’s false puppet, who knew you for you and not their mirage. he knew that the entire world was hellbent on erasing you from existence, that you’d been forced through your own death countless times as teyvat pulled you apart and pushed you back together far from the scene of your would-be murder. he saw the golden scars across your skin, the dried remains of blood lining the wounds you hadn’t been able to patch yet. he’d been the one to wash them away, not minding the refuse soaking into his gloves if it meant your hands could be clean.

he recognized the dull exhaustion in your eyes, the same as the ones he saw in the reflections of lakes. tired, worn, barely there, hanging on by one solitary string that was wound so tightly around a desperate hand.

you had always been his reason for continuing. when the traveller broke down and the ruler of the abyss hid from the sun, you were there. when the chasm’s mud clung to his boots and the memories in his head burned as nails forced between his eyes, you were there. his rosary was kept tight to his chest at all times, familiar prayers pulling him up in the morning and forcing him to sleep at night. he was alive for far, far too long, but you made it bearable. you were his duty, his promise.

he never once thought that he’d be yours. then again, he never thought that he’d have to defend you from the ones you once called friends. time never did pass how he expected it to.

“…leading light?”

you looked down, twirling blades of grass around your fingers. he had led you up to a mostly desolate area of sumeru, west of bayda harbor. it close enough to the sea, forest, and desert that you could reasonably make an escape through any of those routes if need be, while also providing a rather pleasant view. the sky was bleeding red and gold as the sun sank below the horizon, a remarkable sight that fell on blind eyes. there was no use trying to enjoy nature’s beauty when he still kept one hand on his sword and both ears pricked for the slightest sign of danger.

you shouldn’t have to worry about your safety. you shouldn’t have to prioritize based on how likely you are to get hurt, or how easily it would be to make an escape. you still flinched when the wind blew a little too quick, used to it heralding armored footsteps and battle cries. in another life, you were welcomed with open arms, able to enjoy yourself without constantly being on high alert. teyvat did what it could to adapt; the air was still, frozen in time, barely a bird chirping for miles. it was meant to be comforting, he thinks, but dead silence was more unnerving than any breeze.

“i mean it.” he could hear every shift in his cloak around your shoulders, the heavy fabric doing little to soothe your stress. it was yours more than it was his now, to the point he felt claustrophobic wearing it. how long had he been traveling with you? the days blurred.

“i don’t doubt you.” he never would. never could. he’s not sure, even if he somehow wanted to, that his body would allow him to treat your words as anything less than fact. “but i don’t understand what you mean.”

you were a god. the creator, the first, the one that shaped the sovereigns scales and laid the foundations of earth. you predated the archons, celestia, the very skies themselves…

and he, somehow, was a driving motivation for you?

his words must have been funny, a sharp laugh tumbling out of your mouth. it was bitter, humorless, and somewhat raspy. he made note to find some water for you later. “what else could i mean?” you turn to him, some of his confusion lost as your eyes found his. even this burnt out, deep bags set beneath them, you still managed to steal the very air in his lungs. “you’re the only reason i’m still here.”

he didn’t know what to say. what was there to be said, when you were you and he was him? when the world had abandoned you, it made sense you’d cling to what remained faithful. it was merely coincidence he happened to find you first, that’s all. coincidence that you trusted enough not to run from, coincidence that you allowed to care for your injuries. there was nothing to say, because you held nothing for him in particular, only leaning on him out of need. he had to believe that. what was he left with if that wasn’t true? an awkward truth hid beneath his well-known lies, too large for him to see the edges, let alone to contain.

“please… do not say such things again.” to ask of his god what he could not ask of himself was surely some form of heresy, as was willingly laying aside his guard when he was the only one who was tasked with protecting you. he pulled his attention from the tide below, from the rustling trees, holding faith that the world would not be needlessly cruel. he stepped forward, kneeling beside you. even up close, you still seemed painfully small. “it is your own resilience that has allowed you to persevere.”

it’s the earth that leads you from danger.

it’s the water that follows you wherever you go.

it’s the leylines that whisk you to safety.

it’s the wind that warns you of what’s to come.

it’s the you from the past that protects the you in the present.

it’s the you in the present that provides for the you in the future.

it’s you, from everywhere and everywhen, continuing to fight.

and yet you sigh. you look away, across the sea, tracing fontaines skyline. “it really isn’t. i was lucky to run into you when i did.”

you had just crossed the wall back into the forest, burning hot and shaking. he was the lucky one, in truth, to be able to pick your figure out from the sand below. perched on a high cliffside, even mitachurls were reduced to small brown flecks.

you had worn a cryo mage’s cloak, which was what initially drew his attention. abyss activity wasn’t uncommon in the area, but a cryo mage in the desert… that was cause for intrigue. he stepped forward and slid down the steep face in front of him, a slight puff of dust marking his landing in the desolate sand of old vanarana.

he didn’t know what to expect. you stumbled around the jagged remains of a tree, heading for the statue of the seven. he followed, only growing more confused. cryo and dendro did not react with each other, and there was no way to “slow” a statue. a scouting mission, maybe? but why a cryo mage, when pyro would have been far more advantageous in the case of an attack?

he leaned around the corner carefully, prepared for the sight of a staff or the chanting of abyssal magic filling the air. the entire world seemed to be holding its breath, frozen in place and waiting for some trigger to continue.

he saw none of that. you were collapsed at the foot of the statue, faint wheezing only making it to his ears by virtue of the standstill around him. you held no staff, commanded no magic, your chest barely moving with air.

he’d never seen a mage seek out the archons when dying. one hand squeezed the handle of his sword as he crept forward, ready to strike should the situation turn against him. the sand barely shifted beneath his feet, his own heart sounding too loud to his ears. you did not move, showing no signs that you had noticed his approach. he still didn’t trust it.

your cloak was tattered and torn, with thick gloves atypical of a mage. they reminded him more of hilichurl wraps, which was strange considering you wore no mask. your face was instead covered by what looked like eremite cloth, just as stained and dirtied as the rest of your clothes. what he could see looked almost human; in another life, he could believe you were a weary traveller, lost amidst the sand.

he was acting foolish. if the abyss had a human tool, he needed to figure out why. he reached down, undoing the sloppy knot of your veil and letting the brocade fall limply to the grass.

…grass. he blinked, eyes flickering between the ground and your face, not sure which was harder to believe. flowers had bloomed around you, protecting your body from the blazing sands, and he’d be a fool not to recognize the face plastered all over every bounty board.

he didn’t understand. if nothing else, he thought the archons would have enough respect for their creator to know when they were being lied to, yet before him was barely living proof of the inverse. sweat beaded along every inch of exposed skin, deep-set heat exhaustion burning you from the inside out. how could you be a threat? how could they be so blind?

he looked again, the shine of elemental sight straining his eyes, catching flickers of the dendro energy pouring from the statue. you were the only one the archons would feed. you were the only one to make the very earth break its own rules, allowing lotuses to bloom from barren soil. something painfully similar to rage threatened what remained of his rationality, and it took all he had to push it aside.

that didn’t matter. if he went off on some banal revenge quest, he’d be no better than them. your safety mattered more. he picked you up and set aside how calm his curse felt, beginning the trek back to his camp. behind him, the flowers already began to wither, losing their persistence without you to foster it.

perhaps that initial meeting was luck. but these was no luck involved in your trust in him. when you woke up and saw him at your side, you chose to trust him. you chose to believe that he was not like the others, that he would protect you, and he was forever grateful for that trust. nobody could fault you for being angry, for being spiteful about what you were put through and choosing to lash out. nobody would have the right to be upset if you chose to vent your wrath against those that had hurt you.

but you didn’t. you chose, again and again, to believe in the world. you chose to let them live their lives, even if it meant getting hurt again in the process. you chose a quiet life traveling with him over the comfortable life on your throne. to willingly choose to travel with a disgraced knight to spare your people guilt… he couldn’t decide if it was noble or reckless. either way, he was selfishly happy that he was the one to stay by your side.

“i won’t try to convince you. but, please.. do not give up on yourself so easily.” i know far too many who have died by the same hand. “the world and its opinion does not define you. only you get to decide where fate leads.”

you lean towards him, and he thinks you might have passed out- but no, your head lands on his shoulder with far too much precision. he stiffens, not used to existence without a constant pain beneath his skin. “how motivational. you tell all your soldiers that?”

his heart is beating too quickly, thoughts unusually hard to grasp. you’re the only one who could have this effect on him. he only wished it wasn’t now, when your belief in yourself was on the edge. “i mean it. none of this is your fault, and neither are celestial actions the people’s fault. i know that you are hurt, but i don’t want you to accept that main needlessly. you shouldn’t have to view your creation with such pain.” slowly, carefully, he raises the hand closer to you, doing his best not to disturb you as he settles it on your arm. he’s can only hope that the contact brings you as much comfort as it does him. “if nothing else, believe me. promise you’ll at least try.”

he doesn’t think you’ll agree. why would you make a promise to one who represents the heaven’s betrayal? why would you let him hold you close at all, when you can surely sense the bindings of those who tried to kill you wrapped tightly around his soul? he doesn’t know. all he can do is hope.

“…alright, dainslef. i promise.”

twilight has long since fallen, and yet he smiles for the first time in centuries.

[bunnyboy-juice]

g-d bless femme ass hair 🥰

[orengejoshi]

Paperhatober Day 7: Image 4 from Pinterest

I got my first kiss on the swings (2010)

[wandasarchive]

did you guys see these photos of my fiancée and soon to be wife, wanda, getting ready for our wedding 🤭

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i can’t really explain this properly but suguru is a “you’re mine, and i’m yours” kinda guy while satoru is just “i’m yours”….. do u get what i’m saying.

[yuwuta]

gojo would kill your work husband. but if he were the work husband, that's a different story

REAL!! he’s such a hypocrite because if someone mentioned you had a work husband, his entire world would stop and he wold devise the absolute worst plans to make sure that your co-worker, everyone at your job, and everyone in the next building over knew that he was happily committed to you 

but if he is the work husband, he’s very........ dutiful in his role. there’s a loose office/lawyer au in my head where satoru is your secretary, and for all intents and purposes, your personal assistant, and he’s good at his job, but mostly because he considers his job to be pleasing you. he has coffee for you when you arrive, he moves your schedule around without you asking, he has answers to questions before you can even ask them, he has fresh flowers on your desk weekly, pokes into your meetings to pretend to hand you a file that’s really just maybe a single document in a manilla folder with candy on top of it—he’s made himself your business, your partner; he’s made himself irreplaceable, and he loves to remind everybody of that fact. 

he’s also extremely loyal. sure, he could day a week’s worth of work done in about a day, but that doesn’t mean he’ll just use his talents for anybody. he’s your secretary, so he’s at your beck and call, and everyone knows it. they know he’s the best, but also that he’s off limits—not because you won’t share him, but because satoru won’t let himself be shared. 

he also extends his duties beyond work, of course. when he hands you a print out of your schedule for the day and you’re confused by the three-hour block of time you have in the middle of the day, satoru just helps you shrug your coat of your shoulders and smiles, “that’s for the lunch date you have with me, of course!” hanging up your coat in your closet for you, “i’m paying, see you soon, sweets.” and because you’re great at your job, and satoru helps you be great, nobody really questions when the two of you have time for a 13-course tasting menu at 1pm on a tuesday afternoon. and if they did, all satoru would say that you two had a lovely date 

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

second batch of outfit requests!

pattern collage / showfit / clownfit for @koifsssh & candy cardigan Eddie for @jazzzzzzhands <3

[foundfamilywhump]

see like the thing with 'carewhumpers' as a concept to me is it just like... i know this is prrrrobably not really how it's meant but something skeeves me out about the idea that kindness or caretaking mixed in with hurting someone can somehow meaningfully complicate or dilute the harm done to the point of making that character no longer a 'whumper' whereas someone doing the same 'bad' things but not ever being gentle or caring for them would just be a straight-out whumper. when like... that's how 90% of irl abuse dynamics work? so i just... don't really get the point, i guess. like to me it implies something about the 'care' provided somehow mitigating or combating the harm done that. i just do not personally appreciate or enjoy.

[queerestqueertoeverqueer]

shots from the hillywood show's good omens parody that are consuming my entire brain

[kraro-school-life]

hot chocolate and a good book *₊˚☕୧