#tsp: writing

[giddlygoat]

to me this is the holy trinity of a very particular flavor of unsettling

[gothic-mothic]

( @voidofstarryink )

Ok so basically:

[salty-an-disco]

This is the story of a man named– wait… you’re not Stanley! And this isn’t–

Hmmm. Well, this is awkward. Wouldn’t you know about a man named Stanley? Works in an office, likes to push buttons– No?

Oh, well, while this isn’t my usual script, it does seem that there is a story to be found here. Isn’t that nice? Oh, and would you look at that– It seems like you’re the hero of it! How fun!

OK, let’s see–

You’re on a path in the woods. And at the ending of that path is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is a princess.

You’re here to slay her. If you don’t, it’ll be the end of the world.

Oooohh, concise, but immediately intriguing. With a nice twist of expected roles. I like it!

[mushroompoisoning]

au where the stanely parable narrator and the slay the princess narrator have swapped places, and are very confused but still trying very hard to adapt to their new situation

[lilydoesdrawsometimes]

A redraw from something I made in June :)

I make a lot of Narrator art of my own guys but this is what I feel like he would look like. Original drawing from June in the upper left corner

[rosetta222]

Valentine's Day Poll Winner: The Narrator!

"Dear Valentine,

I thank you dearly for your well wishes and support. Honestly, I was a little surprised to be summoned back, but it is a welcome change. I think Stanley will be green with envy of the mountain of gifts I've received. Well, I suppose that's the perks of being the more popular one~

Happy Valentine's Day, you have my gratitude and appreciation.

Sincerely,

The Narrator"

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Behind the Scenes Writing Ask Game

So behind the scenes won the poll, but I thought I'd do an ask game with it!

✍️ "when did you get started writing?"

✏️"what are your current WIPs about?"

📜"how did you get started on your WIPs?"

📝"what stages are you currently in your WIPs?"

🖊️"how does your magic system work?"

🖋️"what inspired you to write your WIPs?"

📖"what has surprised you about your WIPs?"

💻"what perspectives do you write in?"

🖥️"what types of writing do you do?"

❤️"what are your favorite scenes from your WIPs?"

😭"what are the biggest challenges writing your WIPs?"

❗"how many WIPs do you have?"

‼️"what has stayed consistent across all drafts?"

⁉️"what do you do when stuck on a scene?"

❓ask anything you want!

If anyone wants to reblog this to play with too that's totally fine with me!

[anto-pops]

The Serpent's Paramour - Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader

Summary: For the past five years, you've been traversing the Highlands in pursuit of ancient magic sites to master the all-consuming power from the repository. In the midst of your travels, you find yourself forced into an uneasy alliance with none other than Sebastian Sallow. He wants your help, but you want absolutely nothing to do with him.

At first, that is.

While the two of you learn to coexist in the same space again, you’re left wondering if you truly will be able to aid one another, or if your past mistakes will finally come to head after all these years and ultimately lead to your long awaited downfall.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: 18+. aged up characters, canon-typical violence, kidnapping

Chapter 1 can also be found here on Ao3

You were getting really tired of running for your life. 

During your fifth-year turning tail and booking it was often heavily warranted, especially because it was usually being done as a result of you waking up hordes of Inferi, or stealing important artifacts from dark wizards that would then be out for blood. You liked to think you had grown out of that habit, but tonight was proving to be something of a trip down memory lane. 

You were being chased. Again. 

Tucking your knees to your chest, you ducked down and rolled through mud at the same time a Bombarda curse blew up a chunk of the tree ahead of you. It was a close call, but you could hardly stop to survey the extent of the damage when you could still hear the thugs behind you giving chase. 

“You daft idiots, grab her!” 

Another spell struck the ground where you’d landed moments before, but you were already on the move– dipping and weaving in a bid to dodge the attacks that were fired blindly at your back. It made no sense; you had never been intercepted at an ancient magic site before, and as far as you were concerned, there was no reason for anyone to take interest in a dilapidated ruin. Aside from using the crumbling fortress as a makeshift base, no Ashwinders or poachers had ever been lying in wait in what was otherwise deemed an unremarkable location. 

They had been this time, though. To make matters worse, they were looking for you specifically. 

Your name had been like a battle cry from their lips as you’d exited the rundown site, and you hadn’t bothered to stick around to find out whatever the hell it was they wanted with you. If you weren’t so tired and weary, you would have apparated yourself to safety in a heartbeat, but splinching yourself as a result of your carelessness wasn’t exactly at the top of your to-do list. So, you had bolted straight for the edge of the forest, doing your best to avoid colliding with the low hanging branches that scratched at your cheeks and ripped at your cloak. 

There was more yelling from behind you, only this time it sounded distinctly farther away. Chancing a look over your shoulder, you discovered that there was now ample distance between you and the goons chasing you, and you pivoted on your heels to head north for the river that separated the Clagmar Coast from Cragcroftshire. If you could reach the water, you would have a better chance of getting away and concealing your tracks in the process. 

At least, you hoped you would.

Lungs aching, you pushed yourself harder, your arms pumping at your sides as you lept over a fallen log in your path, and though you stumbled a bit upon landing, you remained upright and pressed on. Another spell whizzed past your head– the heat from the Confringo curse nearly singing your matted hair– but you ignored it and focused wholly on running. It felt like an eternity had passed when you finally reached the colossal ravine, immediately trying to formulate a plan that would result in you on the other side with your pursuers left behind. There was no bridge to repair, no loose boulders to form into a levitating staircase, nothing. Panic began to fester in your mind for a heartbeat before you steeled your nerves and banished the feeling entirely. Hysteria wouldn’t help you right now– it never had. 

“There– up ahead! Move your asses, dammit,” came the same voice from before. You turned to watch as a handful of masked assailants slid down the muddy embankment roughly fifty feet from you, and that sight alone spurred you into action. 

Your wand was ripped from the holster on your thigh, and you channeled every bit of magic in your body into it as you aimed for the largest tree across the daunting trench in front of you. The Accio charm wrapped around the top of the monstrous trunk, and with every ounce of strength you possessed, you pulled. It seemed impossible at first, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and the foreign power from the repository surged to life to give you the assistance you gravely needed. There was a deafening crack as the wood began to splinter and give way under your ministrations, muting the onslaught of footsteps that grew nearer and nearer. With one final pull your efforts were rewarded, and the massive evergreen tipped towards you slowly before gravity caught up to it, sending it plummeting towards where you stood. 

If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? It was a philosophical question– one that you had never thought about much before– but you had always assumed that with no one around, there would never be any way to know. Presently there were multiple people around, and as it turned out, a falling tree did make a sound. 

As you dove out of the way, the pine covered top of the tree arched past where you had been standing, stretching over the shrinking space between you and the encroaching strangers behind you. Most of them saw the gargantuan tree heading straight for them and jumped out of the way, their shrill screams echoing throughout the forest and bringing a small smile to your face. A few others weren’t so lucky, and you watched as the peaked top of the tree swallowed them whole and buried them beneath a heavy thicket of pine needles. 

Seizing your opportunity, you ran for the makeshift bridge and hauled yourself on top of the rough trunk, shoving and kicking at the spindly branches that stood in your way as you practically clawed your way through to the other side of the ravine. You didn’t dare look back, keeping your eyes trained ahead as you focused on maintaining your footing and not getting thrown off balance by your satchel. 

It looked like a hurricane had torn through the earth when you finally emerged at the base of the tree. You hopped down and landed in the deep, root-riddled crater that had previously held the evergreen upright before running to the side to gauge where your attackers were. Most were still gathering their bearings while others attempted to drag their comrades out from under the suffocating weight of the branches. You hardly spared their survival a second thought as you pointed your wand at the center of the tree and cast, “Confringo!” 

The flames grew rapidly and without mercy, frantic calls of “hurry” and “get them out of there” reaching your ears as you spun towards the forest and disappeared into the treeline. There was no knowing how much time you had bought yourself, but you weren’t about to squander any of it for a second. 

You ran, and you did not look back. 

***

One would assume that after two years of living in abandoned hovels and scrounging up scraps to eat with your bare hands, you’d be used to being cold, wet, and miserable. Hell, you had learned more about yourself since leaving Hogwarts than you’d ever thought possible, including just how resilient and resourceful you could be. Rain storms, stale bread, and a lack of clean water had never deterred you for long, and through all the trials and tribulations you found yourself facing, you always managed to pull through. 

Tonight, however, you allowed yourself to be sullen. 

The torrential downpour you’d been caught up in somehow managed to slip through the canopy of trees overhead, and as a result, you were encased in a cold, wet, dreary darkness. It had been two hours of trudging through mud and frigid temperatures, and by now you were caked in a thick layer of grime that you desperately wanted to rid yourself of. Charming away the mess was pointless– it wouldn’t be long before you were covered in muck once again– and you’d learned long ago that using magic while in the middle of a void forest was a bad idea, especially when you were trying to remain undetected. 

After the events from earlier in the day, you had decided to head straight for the next site marked on your map to make camp and settle down for the night. However, you were still a day away from reaching the location, no thanks to the dark wizards that had chased you in the opposite direction. Your stubbornness and desire to reach your destination is why you currently found yourself on the outskirts of civilization, trying and failing to fend off the elements to get the journey over with, but the bone-deep chill that wracked your body was beginning to weaken your resolve. 

You were exhausted. 

Thunder rumbled overhead, long and loud amidst the sound of raindrops pelting against the dirt, and with a disappointed sigh, you made up your mind. If memory served you correctly, the town of Bainburgh was roughly a two mile walk west of the forest. Your paranoia told you it was too risky to set foot in a legitimate establishment, but your numb limbs and wet boots squashed your fears before they could come to head. Staying outside for the entire night would likely leave you dead, and there were few other options to choose from. 

So, you marched. It took roughly forty minutes to traverse the jagged, rocky landscape in the dark, slowed down by the stray roots that stuck out of the ground and worked to trip you in your haste. By the time you made it into town, you were soaked to the bone and shivering violently enough that you were certain passersby could hear. The tavern was helpfully the largest building at the end of the road, and you headed straight for it without sparing any of the town’s denizens a second glance. 

The warmth that greeted you as soon as you entered was beyond welcoming, and you tugged the door shut behind you before beelining straight for the firepit in the middle of the room. Your hands were so numb that you practically had to submerge them in the flames to feel any semblance of reprieve, and a few onlookers cast wary glances your way. Between the mud that coated your lower half and the water that dripped from every fiber of your clothing, you realized you had to look like a walking disaster, and that sobering thought had you tucking your hands under your armpits as you hurried to the bar at the back of the room. 

The older gentleman wiping down the counter turned to face you, his aged face showing obvious alarm and concern when he caught sight of you. “Merlin’s beard girl, you look like you’ve been dragged straight through hell.” 

You flashed him a bashful smile, though you were certain it looked like more of a grimace. “You could say that. You wouldn’t happen to have any rooms available for the night, would you?” 

With practiced efficiency, he tossed the rag he’d been holding over his shoulder and shuffled over to the cabinet at the edge of the bar, opening the squeaky glass panel that housed the keys for the rentable rooms. “Ordinarily the answer would be no, but that damned storm blowing through has business movin’ slow. I’ve got two rooms left, one with a bath and the other without.” 

Your heart soared as you hastily replied, “The one with the bath, please.” Without missing a beat, you snatched your weighty coin purse from your belt and dropped it on the wooden surface. The barkeeper raised his white, bushy brows in silent surprise as he tentatively picked up the drawstring sac, plucking ten gold pieces from within before handing it back to you. The bronze key he deposited in front of you had a wooden tag dangling from the end that read ‘13’, and for the first time in nearly two weeks you found yourself genuinely smiling as your fist closed around the cool metal. 

“Up the stairs and on your left,” he instructed you. “Kitchen is open for another hour if you’re tryin’ to grab a bite before bed, but I’d wager you’re more interested in the runnin’ water.” The way his eyes fell to your soiled clothing didn’t escape you. You almost felt bad for tracking all the mud and water through the lobby.

Twenty minutes later, you had a warm loaf of bread and a small wedge of cheese tucked away in your bag as you ascended the rickety staircase. The decor within the aged tavern was modest, save for the silver plaques that adorned each door with their respective room numbers. Finding your own was a non-issue, and as soon as you were inside the sanctity of the rented space, you let loose a breath that you’d seemingly been holding since setting foot into town. Now wasn’t the time to let your guard down, but you weren’t about to turn your nose up at clean linens and running water. 

Moving quietly, you stripped down to your undergarments and tossed your ruined clothing in the corner of the bathroom, then cranked the tub’s faucet to the highest setting and left it to fill. The bread from the kitchen had cooled some, but it hardly made a difference to you as you ripped off a piece and ate it with the cheese you’d purchased. Fresh food was a rarity for you these days, and you savored every bite as you paced the length of the room. With your hunger sated and your looming bath just around the corner, you allowed yourself to think back to the last few weeks, and you pondered just why dark wizards were looking for you.

Understandably, the whole situation reminded you of your fifth-year. Suddenly you were fifteen again, being hounded and hunted by Ranrok and Rookwood alike for simply existing. At that time they had wanted something from you; your abilities, your information, and most prudent of all, your silence. You’d known too much back then, but those times had passed, and both Ranrok and Rookwood were now dead– at your hands, no less. 

So why would anyone be looking for you? Who were they to you? What did they want? 

It wouldn’t surprise you in the slightest to discover that you had more enemies lurking in the shadows. The stunts you’d pulled and the things you’d gotten away with back then were bound to catch up with you, but you hated not knowing. The whole reason you’d left Hogwarts after graduation without so much as a word to anyone was precisely because you didn’t want your whereabouts known. The line between friend and foe had started to blur towards the end, though you acknowledged that it was mostly your fault.

You hadn’t turned Sebastian in, but you also hadn’t moved to stop Ominis from doing so. 

With him imprisoned in Azkaban and Ominis reeling from the decision, it was no wonder the two of you had drifted apart in the years that followed. Anne’s curse worsening had only exacerbated Ominis’ feelings, and you’d graciously stayed out of his way anytime you saw him around school. Natty had never fully recovered from Harlow’s use of the Cruciatus curse on her, and your guilt had in turn driven you further away from her. Poppy was the only person you’d stayed in touch with for the remainder of your academic life, but she was too good a person to drag down with your… issues. You’d ultimately been the one to cut contact with her following your seventh-year, and while you’d felt bad about it at first, you knew it was for the best. 

After tonight, that decision had proven to be the right one. If you really were being tracked, were any of your former friends targets for information? Did this impromptu, wild goose chase have anything to do with your volatile abilities from the repository? Had you unwittingly put them in harm's way simply because they knew you? 

The bread in your mouth had gone soft, and you shook the pointless thoughts from your mind as you finished off your mediocre dinner and made for the bathroom. The warmth from the water was divine and single-handedly chased away any lingering doubts about holing up in a public place for the night. For just this once, you would gladly trade sleeping in the cold, wet dirt for the pending restlessness and paranoia that was bound to greet you, and greet you it did. 

After climbing under the itchy but clean blankets, you stared wide eyed up at the ceiling for what felt like hours. Every squeak of a floorboard, every booming laugh that echoed up the stairs, every shadow that darted past your window, all had your heart racing. Even after checking twice that the two points of entry were indeed firmly locked, your nerves wouldn’t steady. Your skin crawled with unease at the prospect of being blindsided in an unfamiliar place, and at one point you even began pacing the length of the tiny room just to tire yourself out. 

Eventually, you came to a grinding halt at the foot of the bed, your hands curling into fists as you sucked down a slow, deep breath. “You’re fine,” you murmured to yourself. “You’re fine. It’s okay, you’re safe, you’re fine.” 

Maybe if you repeated it enough times you would start to believe it. 

The second time you crawled beneath the prickly sheets your brain was still running in overdrive, but you were far less fidgety than before. You had no clue how you managed it, but eventually your eyes drifted shut– and even if it ended up being a fitful bout of sleep, you would be grateful for the few hours of shut eye you managed to acquire. 

Gratitude went right out the window, however, when you were startled awake by a whispered, “Petrificus totalus.” 

Your body locked up– stiff and unable to move an inch below the scratchy covers– and before you even had the chance to glance in the direction of the disembodied voice, they whispered a different sort of charm. 

One that made your world go dark.

[mocksart]

me: stanley isn’t psychic and can’t see the narrator

also me: okay but what if he could tho?

and other miscellaneous doodles for the mp100 au that still lives in my brain

[squuote]

Every instance of Stanley characterization I've found so far (more to be added as i scrounge for more):

- Stanley doesn’t let go of the bucket when you are told to put it into the bucket destroyer when you try to. (Bucket Destroyer Ending)

- Stanley running off from the Narrator + outright defiance via either running or actively trying to leave (Release Date Trailer + Game Awards Trailer)

- Stanley responding directly to the Narrator via shaking his head no. (the Game Awards Trailer)

- Stanley looking at traveling sites in his free time plus the National Geographic magazine on the desk next to the computer (the Game Awards Trailer)

- Any instance of Stanley’s attachment to the bucket (I think about The Escape Pod Ending w/ the bucket specifically for this)

- The notes page from the Indiebox Manual

- Stanley’s imagination coming to life after being left alone (the Infinite Hole Ending)

- Stanley walking through the desert to the memory zone (The Epilogue)

- The countdown ending dialogue where it implies that Stanley asks about his coworkers (The Countdown Ending)

- Stanley patting his leg while waiting for commands to come in (the Ultra Deluxe intro sequence) (he does kick his leg a bit in the 2013 intro sequence)

- The Curator’s narration after you leave the museum (the Museum Ending) (suggested by @/axolotleo)

(I realize these are all a bit of a stretch but it’s fun to find and notice these)

[crimsonbubble]

The narrator catching the player getting off in the broom closet so he guides them through but forces them to edge themselves for going off track of the game

cw. nsfw, afab!reader, masturbation, fingering voice kink edging *not proofread, just pure horny

[This is entirely a certain someone's fault]

“Oh, how pitiful. You just couldn't help yourself could you?”

Even while locked away in the broom closet, he found you so easily

Pressing your back into the rusting and dusty shelves to steady yourself as you continue to pump your fingers into your dripping cunt

Your panties are already a sticky mess, much like your hands and thighs are now as well

Pressing your palm flat to rub over your throbbing clit while you stuff your messy cunt with your fingers

“Easy now, focus on me. Slow down.”

His tone was stern yet gentle making you comply with his requests almost immediately 

Slowing your movements as you focused on him and him alone

“Faster.”

Blindly following his commands, you speed up again

“Take them out.”

You listened like an overly eager and obedient puppy

Craving any sort of praise from the voice ringing in your head

“Good. Focus on your clit, slowly now.”

You brought your sticky fingers up to your clit, working the pulsing bud in slow circles

Your body buzzed with the pleasure, yet it wasn't enough

He could tell, the way your thighs twitched and closed around your hand gave you away too easily

“Use your fingers.”

Your legs nearly gave out as you pushed two fingers in, searching desperately for that one spot that would end this routine of torture

Constant. In, out, slower, faster

[acoreu-alt]

[gothic-mothic]

I feel like that stanley had suffered through a lot...

No big deal !

Narrator’s arrival to the human world was a bit delayed. Just enough time for Stanley to start his new life, get a job and apartment, make friends, give up searching for his Narrator and convince himself that The Parable wasn’t real in the first place

And of course, it’s no big deal that he can’t talk to anyone about this because they’ll think he’s insane. Just gotta bottle it all up, easier said than done

[salty-an-disco]

Yeah, might as well see what this story is about. [Proceed]

Indeed! We’re onto an incredible adventure you and I, I can already tell.

Ahem.

You walk up to the cabin. A plain wooden structure sat atop a hill. You’ll find the princess within.

I should warn you, before you go any further: She will lie, she will cheat, she will do everything in her power to stop you from slaying her. Don’t believe a word she says.

‘We’re not going through this are we? She’s a princess! We’re supposed to save Princesses, not–

OH, geez. Who said that? Did you say that? But a prompt didn’t even appear! I– I thought that was the established form of conversation. I narrate, monologue, go on different — but fun and engaging — tangents, and you reply with short sentences at the end of it! You shouldn’t change an established pattern like this, at least warn me–!

‘Uhm. Mr. Narrator–’

ARGH. There you go again! Hrrng. Although… it doesn’t really sound like you? Is there someone else here?

‘Yes. Sort of. I’m them, but– not? Me talking is not the same as them talking. At least, I don’t think–’

Then why are you still talking? It’s unsettling! You shouldn’t be able to interrupt my narration like this! That’s not how I work–

‘I’m sorry, but I cannot just stay quiet! I’m also part of this story, you know?’

Hrrrnnng. At least separate your lines more from the narration. I can barely notice you!

‘Uhm.’

Voice of the Hero: Is this better?

Yes, much better. Ahem. As I was saying, before being rudely interrupted, you shouldn’t believe a word–

Voice of the Hero: You already said that part. And you were actually the one who interru–

AS I WAS SAYING BEFORE BEING RUDELY INTERRUPTED–

Voice of the Hero: …

… You shouldn’t believe a word the Princess says.

There. You can say your piece now.

Voice of the Hero: …thanks. Yeah, as I was saying… … I forgot what I was gonna say.

Thank you for your contribution. Very enlightening and necessary to the progression of this story.

Voice of the Hero: Hey, that’s not fair! You were the one who side-tracked me!

[very-uncorrect]

Collecting HASO stuff for my story (will be updated over time)

Pets

The boost of adrenaline that can give someone the strength to lift a car if someone they care about is in danger

Adrenaline in general

The desire to take things apart piece by piece

Enjoying spicy food that would take out some of the strongest aliens

Hair dye and coloured eye contacts

Temperature range

Running into mortal danger without a single thought of their own mortality and somehow surviving with just a few scratches

The determination and ability to rebuild even in some of the most catastrophic circumstances

Self harming as an instinct after prolonged boredom with no stimulation (+ hallucinations when your brain gets bored)

Ability to run for a long time without having to stop because of being able to sweat instead of just having to stop to pant

The patterns on our skin that we can't see (some aliens can see them)

[queenburd]

Stanley B, his narrator, and his Line™️

His narrator never actually made a model, but if he had, it would have been extremely broken—improperly created, the model would tear, textures disappearing and glitching like seeing through the mesh. Think like this:

B’s Adventure Line™️ was the closest thing to a friend he had. Even though death wasn’t a significant, permanent thing, it still worked to keep him alive on his runs through the death traps his narrator made.

I could spend an eon talking about this guy. He’s just special to me.