Library Books Art Hack By @danarune On Twitter

5"5

me finding out my mutual is one inch taller than me

i'm peeing

Martian Stan AU - Aftermath & Discovery

The Beginning (1), Aftermath (2) (here), next

Extra! (The Apology)

Ford didn’t know how long it took for him to pry himself off the floor, but it felt like hours later when he managed to trudge his way upstairs, eyes burning and throat raw. There was new blood on his knuckles, and Ford couldn’t remember if it was Stan’s or his own. He’d tried to scrub the blood off of the portal, but most of it had been too high and Ford was so tired.

He couldn’t fall asleep in the basement, he chanted to himself, again and again and again and it only occurred to him once he stood swaying at the top the of the stairs, that is didn’t actually… matter, anymore.

It didn’t matter what Bill did, or didn’t do.

The portal was broken beyond repair. His brother was dead.

The journal is gone. his mind whispered insidiously, and he couldn’t remember if he’d always been so cruel to himself, or if it was a byproduct of Bill. You got what you wanted, Sixer. How does it feel?

Ford hobbled to the bathroom as fast as he could manage, and hurled his guts out into the toilet. When all that came up was acrid bile, though, and Ford wondered idly when we he last ate. It didn’t matter.

None of it mattered, Ford decided firmly, hands clenched on either side of the porcelain bowl so hard that they looked bloodless in the harsh white light. It didn’t matter what he felt, or didn’t feel.

Not anymore.

The journal was gone. That was a good thing, it meant that the portal could never be rebuilt again. Stanley made an honorable… he. He’d made an honorable sacrifi—

Ford hunched over the toilet and heaved again. Nothing came out.

Impossibly, time kept moving.

Ford was left drifting in the current, from room to room, machine to first aid kit to paper to specimen to paper to circling the door of his lab again and again like an anxious sentry. He didn’t process any of it, and eventually, the door was the only thing left in the house that felt truly real. It was the only mystery left that Ford could pay any real mind to, and most of the time he wanted nothing more than burn the whole thing to the ground.

Sitting against the door, head leaned back and staring at the ceiling, Ford searched his mind for something. Anything.

A plan, a goal, fuck, he’d take the will to actually get out of the house and get groceries despite the constant chance of being watched at this rate. There was near nothing left to eat in the cabinets that wasn’t rank with age, and Ford knew he was wasting away like this.

But there was nothing. No part of him cared.

He knew he’d always had the wildest aspirations as a kid and as a young man, that he’d never stop reaching for bigger and better heights, but the light had blinded him with its promise, and now he’d fallen. He’d fallen so far.

He’d said Icarus didn’t flap hard enough, when Fiddleford tried to warn him of his own hubris all those weeks ago. Now he was just glad he wasn’t an English major, because it had taken him all of this just to realize that Icarus had found the sun, been embraced by the promise of warmth, and burned for it.

Trust no one.

Ford traced an idle finger against the freshly bandaged burn on the underside of his hand.

And no one should ever trust you.

…

The worst part, Ford thought to himself as he brewed another pot of coffee and searched for a clean mug, was the uncertainty of it all. There was a grief in loss, of course, but not knowing could be so much worse.

Stanley could still be alive out there, among the creatures of the Nightmare Realm, all alone. He could be dying. He could be dead. He could be sitting on the other side, waiting, hoping Ford could open the portal and bring him home—

Ford slammed down the sole clean  coffee cup he had left hard enough to startle himself, and then sighed.

He’d have to go clean up the remains of the portal, eventually. Before he fell asleep and Bill…

Ford poured out the coffee and leaned heavily against the counter as he took a sharp swig. It burned the whole way down. 

What did he have left that Bill wanted? What reason did Bill have to keep him around if his research was beyond saving, if he couldn’t be threatened or tortured into complying anymore?

The next time he fell asleep…

Ford didn’t know what’d happen to him, and despite everything, damnit, Ford didn’t want to die. He couldn’t let Bill win, couldn’t become another footnote in the history of the world because he was just another one of the poor schmucks who fell for Bill Cipher’s lies.

Taking another gulp of liquid courage, Ford pulled his coat tight around himself and marched to the door of his lab before he could talk himself out of it.

Forget not sleeping in the lab. Ford couldn’t sleep at all until he found a way to sever Bill from his mind for good. Project Mentem had been a bust last he’d checked, but it was worth another shot. What else hadn’t he tried? There was something… a protection spell? A charm?

Ford contemplated his options all the way down the stairs, one hand keeping him steady on the wall while the other held his mug. 

He still wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted yet, or what his next step was, but Ford could do this. He just had to secure his mind, like he’d planned, and then get rid of the blasted portal once and for all. Nothing had changed.

Nothing had changed. Nothing had changed. Nothing, nothing, except that Ford felt hollow where there must’ve once been something warm and vital in his chest. He didn’t know if he’d ever feel warm again. He didn’t deserve to.

Ford remembered a detail about sleep deprivation, as the elevator neared the basement level again and his heart dropped in time with the doors hissing open. Hallucinations were a common byproduct of the resulting sensory overload and exhaustion. They could take auditory or visual form, though visual hallucinations were a more common symptom by over 52%.

That was the only explanation he could conjure for the faint singing that echoed through the dark, cavernous sub-level before him. 

“It’s not real,” Ford whispered to himself, hands a vice around the coffee mug. He felt cold. “Auditory hallucinations are an expected and well documented symptom to experience in conditions less dire than these. Focus on your intellect, Stanford. Focus, focus, it is not real.”

For a long stretch of time, seconds, or perhaps minutes, Fords feet were glued to the floor of the elevator. No matter how hard he tried, no matter what he said or did, the singing, or the static, remained steady and quiet. 

It wouldn’t go away unless Ford made it. 

Finally, Ford forced himself to creep into the basement, and then the control room to set his mug down on the desk. The music was louder now, more distinct here than it had been before. Had Ford left a radio on down here? Was that it?

Holding his breath, Ford crept around the trashed room, checking behind spare sheets of metal that had been propped up against the walls, kneeling to look under the control panels, and then behind them too. All the while, the music droned on, buzzing and humming and settling under his skin like an itch. 

-any- wind blows—

It got louder as he neared the very back of the room, the words filtering through the humming static and becoming clear. Ford couldn’t deny it anymore. That was a voice. He shivered hard, jolting like ice had been pressed to the back of his neck, and hurried forward. 

-really matter to me… To me. 

There was a pile of debris, in the back of the control room, farthest from the door where he’d entered. Stanley must’ve crashed into it, when Ford and him had been… when he’d…

-just killed a man —a gun against his head…

Ford slowed his pace, staring down at the dented metal plates and machinery that had fallen loose in a heap on the floor, the stray wires and screws jutting out of the mess every which way. Slowly, Ford sank to his knees and pressed his aching palms onto the cool floor beneath him.

He could hear the singing now. Warbling, staticky. Familiar.

-Life had just begun, and now I’ve gone and thrown it all away.

Ford choked on his next inhale, thin and trembly as it was, and searched through the wreckage with wide eyes. 

There. Nestled between a dented panel with half its screws undone, and a jumble of wires and smaller panels of sheet metal, was the source of the sound. 

For a long, long moment, all Ford did was stare.

Oh mama… oh ohh oh. Didn’t mean to make you cry.

If I’m not back again this time tomorrow…

Ford’s hands trembled as he reached out, carefully prying the radio out of the scrap heap and holding it up in the dim light.

Carry on, carry on…

As if nothing really matters…

The voice faded out. Static.

Ford set the radio down on his lap, gently, as it would shatter into a million pieces otherwise, and pressed a trembling hand to his mouth.

“Stanley?” Ford choked out, and it was like trying to breathe glass. But he had to know, he had to, because— because…

He sat there, dully staring down at the radio Fiddleford had cobbled together months ago, when they’d still been in the implementations stage of the data and blueprints they’d collected, when the preliminary tests had begun. A device to send and collect waves and other information from beyond this dimension without actually opening a rift.

And here it was. In Fords hands, dented and scratched and still whole despite everything. Ford had turned his sights completely to the portal before the it’s completion, since Bill had deemed the entire endeavor a waste of time and energy and an ineffective outlet for his genius.

Fiddleford must’ve completed it, back when he was still just as enthralled in the project as Ford was. He missed his old friend, but Fiddleford was likely back home by now, in California to try and reconnect with his wife and child. As bitter as Ford was, he hoped Fiddleford was successful. His old friend deserved as much and more. 

There was no reply to Ford’s question, except, Ford brought the radio to his ear and strained to listen through the faint static. Was that… humming? 

Doo- doo doo, yeah, no poindexter, I‘m done, man. That’s the last song of the evening, I’m not paid for overtime. 

Moses, wish I were getting paid for this.

Ford jumped, wincing at the sudden burst of noise loud enough to make his ears ring, then processed what Stanley, because that had to be Stanley, had said.

“Stanley! Where are you? Are you in the Nightmare Realm? You must be… what sort of method did you find to transmit your signal? Are you al—“

But Stanley continued speaking as though he hadn’t heard him. A thrill of irritation  went through him. Was Stanley ignoring him? Was this some kind of petty revenge tactic?

When’d that song come out anyway? ‘75? 

He hummed.

Sounds about right.

Ford shook the radio and bit back a growl, before he remembered that the technology in his hands was damaged and sorely in need of a repair and upgrade, and loosened his grip again. He set it down in his lap.

“Stanley, I need you to take this seriously, please, for once.”

Wow, that song was everywhere back then, wasn’t it? I remember thinkin’ Ford probably liked it when it came out, wherever he was. The nerd was probably in college.

“Stanley?” he tried again, but he wasn’t expecting a reply anymore. Stanley soldiered on, rambling about everything and nothing and Ford could almost hear the smile in his voice if it didn’t sound so tired. 

Hell, where’d I first hear it? Must’ve been over at a gas station in… eh, Kansas? Somewhere over there, the big ol’ middle states. 

We sure aren’t in Kansas anymore.

Ahh, those were the times. Me, the open sky, and so, so much dirt in my hair. Seriously, where did the dirt come from. I roll around in one haystack and suddenly i’m fishing filth out of my hair a month later.

Stanley went quiet again, before he laughed. 

Aw man, I actually like this story. Buckle in folks, and I’m taking us back to that weirdly cold summer day in Kansas, where I had to steal 5 prized chickens. For some reason.

Look man, when someone pays you a hundred bucks and tells you he wants chickens, you don’t ask questions. 

Anyways, I’d been-“

For the past few… well, it had to have been days since Stanley fell through the portal by this point, if Fords state was anything to go off of, Ford’s mind had been eerily blank. He’d been a hollowed out shell of his former self, a ghost in his home and life that held onto the living plane by only the barest threads and pure spite.

It was like a switch had flipped. Ford’s fingers drummed on the outside of the radio as he forced himself to his feet, mind whirling at a hundred miles per hour and making calculations and theories and discarding some and contemplating others, and he was nearly jittering as he walked out of the control room entirely. He’d need to find a way to secure this side of the portal from Bills influence, recollect his journals, and then, he was bringing his brother home.

He stopped just before he got into the elevator and turned around to stare down the wrecked portal that loomed overhead. The once perfect inverted triangle, now ruined and warped nearly beyond recognition.

He grinned in a way that was more just like baring his teeth.

“You may be a god, Cipher, and you may think you can control me, but never forget. I am a scientist.”

The portal stood dead as it had been, but Ford didn’t care. He whirled around and stalked into the elevator. He felt more awake than he had in days. And he had research to collect and a demon to banish.

Stanley was still talking, as the elevator began to shudder and rise, and Ford’s adrenaline shot began to ever-so-slightly wane. Something about… attack pigeons?

-And when I finally think I’m in the clear, I duck around one of the hay bales and come face to face with, and I’m not kidding here, a cow wearing heavy duty armor, like a helmet and shit the guy in ‘Nam would wear. It even had holes for the ears!

There was a strange sound then, and Ford realized with a start that it was coming from him. He was laughing. It wasn’t even than funny, really, but something about Stan delivery made Ford wheeze. 

When was the last time he’d laughed? It must’ve been before this whole thing started, when he’d been with Fiddleford or B—

The laughter died in his throat. Oblivious to Fords inner turmoil, Stan kept on jabbering.

And there I was, 5 chickens smuggled into my coat and in my bag —and if you’ve never tried to carry 5 chickens, never do, it’s hard as hell and not worth it at all— staring down ol’ Bessie. 

And then, because this fucking farm couldn’t get any weirder, the cow started moo-ing like it was setting off a tornado siren, and all the other cows in the whole place started mooing in sync too. It was fucking terrifying man.

They must’ve been calling the attack pigeons, because those suckers came back, and they started dive-bombing my sorry ass, and really, that was when I reached my limit.

I dove into the hay bale like a damn football player going for the end line, and even though it was by far the itchiest thing to ever happen to me, it saved me from death-by pecking so I’ll take take it. 

The itchiest, of course, save for my stint in Albuquerque.

Ford could almost imagine Stan shaking his head as he paused again. With a start, he realized he was still smiling.

Just. Don’t try selling pillows in Albuquerque is all I’ll say.

Stan gave an audible shudder. 

So many feathers… And itch powder. The itch powder didn’t help. 

Ford couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped out of him at that.

Tags! (I’m sure I’m forgetting someone, pls tell me if you want to be on the list! Or just follow the tag that also works) @aroace-get-out-of-my-face @pleasantartisanhottea @littlelilliana15 @empressofsamoyeds @pinesfamilycatsau

Super Epic Secret Surprise! (Will link when posted)

A while ago some anon asked me to draw stangst, and today I finally deliver with it. My heart breaks into pieces every time I think of those 30 years the Stan twins spent in loneliness ;-;

The Days After Tomorrow

Finished February 27, 2023

2034 was when the war between androids and humans began. The war lasting decades killing both humans and androids alike, nearly wiping out the entire population of earth as a whole, leaving everything to chaos. Those who were smart enough left for safe grounds, making places like ‘Peace Bunkers’ to find some sort of order in all the chaos. Or, they leave to survive by themselves. However those who did not leave, fought valiantly or foolishly we may never know. 

The war was destructive, leading buildings to collapse, towns to crumple, and even leaving whole sections of cities to level out. There was no chance of new growth in those areas with how damaged those places were at the time leading people to assume the worst of it all. 

2058….

The years after the war were just as, if not more painful and dangerous than before, some wishing to be back to the years of the war because “at least they had rations and had plenty of food to go around…”  The famine, the thing that killed most of the remaining first generation ‘survivors’, the second and third generations after, learning to make do with the things they had. Relearning to farm, cook, and much more. 

A huge step from using androids. 

Hope had run out long after everything started, and no one dared to go anywhere close to towns and more specifically cities, out of fear of androids or larger groups of humans to be there. Those fears however were one of many myths or folklore that were taken seriously by those communities, so very few people stay in places with a high density of buildings. Leaving those areas to flourish, areas growing trees inside toppled apartment buildings nearly reaching to apartment height. Flowers growing in between the cracks in the concrete along with weeds. 

In one area of this specific city however is a place that has strangely been open the entire time this had all been going on, and that place is ‘Terry’s café’. Terry’s café is small compared to the other buildings in the area and beside, with two levels and the outside looking as if the person who had owned it first was originally a flower shop but was later turned into a café. The inside however had more of a late 80’s look to it with checkered flooring and parts of cars in different corners of the room. The androids that are there working, were cleaning or talking to imaginary customers and making them food. With the way they act it’s almost as if time has looped forever in this place. Acting as if the war and the famine never existed.

 On this particular day someone enters the café, and not just anyone, a human…. 

A human boy. 

This boy in particular has a name, his name is Aurthur Wymblur Jaycobs. A boy one would describe as both rowdy, obnoxious, an overall bright young boy and…. a cold killer, depending on how you meet him. With his bright orange hair seemingly unable to stay in one place the owner of said hair forgoing trying to brush it. With his round childlike features and his bright green eyes, one would think that he would be seen easily by other survivors and killed on site, however he’s quite clever when making traps and shooting unsuspecting victims. There are myths saying that he owns the cities, some even saying he was born in one of the toppled buildings. Most don’t believe he’s real, saying that he’s just one of a bunch of ghost stories to tell children at night to warrant them from going into the cities. Either way you put it though Aurthur… is not a kid to be reckoned with. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arthur was racing around the block in section B-1C, a section he has been in and around to know the way in his sleep. He would usually do this twice a week in different sections, practising his parkour. On this particular day he was making his laps when he had noticed a new side street he'd never seen before. Being the curious little shit he was, he went to check it out. It just so happened to be the place the café was in, squished between two toppled buildings. It looked interesting since it looked to be the only thing open and in operation at least… from the outside. As he ran closer to said café he noticed that indeed it was open and androids were freely running around in there… interesting. Disregarding how many red flags there were just by this thing being opened in the first place he invited himself in…. 

And this… is where our story begins…

As Arthur entered the café the doorbell above the door chimed with timed rhythm letting every android in the building that a new person had entered the café. Arthur flabbergasted that the bell is still working given that everything outside of this store is broken, feeling like a deer caught in headlights stared owlishly. 

No one said a thing in those few minutes, unsure whether it was a good idea to speak or not. The android manning the counter was the first to speak, asking in what seemed like a motherly tone “Hello young one, how can we help you on this perfect spring evening?” Arthur, unsure how to go about answering the question, stays silent. 

The Counter android -Arthur’s now dubbed- realizing it won’t get an answer out of him anytime soon shouts to whoever is in the kitchen “Order up for one stack of waffles and a small coffee!” there was a muffled reply from in the kitchen, their answer seemed to have made the Counter Android upset with it replying back “Well he might as well have something while he’s here, he looks so thin a gust of wind could blow him over! So get him the things I asked for before I make you” before turning to Arthur to say quietly “No offence hunny, but you look like you haven’t eaten anything since you’ve been born.” Arthur, feeling the need to defend his honour, argued back saying “Hey! I’m not skinny, I’m pretty average for kids my age!” The counter android had an almost look of surprise before collecting itself and replying with a glint in its ‘eyes’ “Ooooh really~, when was the last time you ate then?”

….. Now that was a question. 

The last he had remembered was a week ago, when he was looking through C-5E looking for if there were any lone survivors wandering around, when he had started to become hungry. It was the third time that week alone and it was becoming increasingly annoying. Sometimes Arthur wished he didn’t have a stomach, either way he needed food and he needed food right now. Arthur looked around to see where the closest deserted store was, which happened to be right beside him at the time, whoo hoo! That time he happened to get two cans of beans, so he heated them up with a makeshift fire He made all by himself. 

“About a week ago why does that matter though, I’m the most well off by the world's standards, other kids my age barely get that! So BOOM! SUCK ON THAT!” 

The once happy chattering of the café turns dead silent. All androids that were previously minding their business, now facing the only kid in the room in horror of what they had just heard. 

Well off? This malnourished child is more well off than most kids?

Arthurs words shock the entire café. Them all realizing the gravity of the situation and how bad it really was out there. For years they were to never leave the building in fear of what their owner might do to them. But…. 

they don’t have to worry any more, their owner has been dead for probably as long as they’ve been working for. 

They realize what their new objective is: ‘keep. this. boy. safe.’

“Hey! You guys good? Your fucking scaring me, which I don’t say often out loud, but I will hurt you if you fucks go crazy on me!” Arthur nearly yells, quick to brase his gun just in case. Arthurs’ almost worried threat seemed to have knocked them out of their stupor, with Counter android responding “Yes, we’re fine, RIGHT GUYS!” A collective ‘yeah’ was said amongst the androids as they went back to what they were originally doing. 

“Anyhow, how ‘bout you go and sit down in one of the seats over here.” It said, pointing to the bar seats in front of the counter. Shrugging, Arthur takes his hand off his holster as he walks over to the seat closest to the cash register, looking forward into the window of the kitchen. Where, more androids are busy working on food in the back. 

The seats themselves sigh in relief from not being sat on in a long time when he adjusts himself in his seat. The Counter Android -He really needs to figure out its name cause it’s getting reeal annoying calling them that- seemed pleased with this new development going as to say “So! What's your name kid? I gotta know the name to the face." 

"Arthur Wymblur Jacobs, I came up with the name myself!" He proudly exclaimed. 

“Oh did you really? Can you tell me where you got the idea?” The Counter Android questioned, seemingly excited to hear more, and for the next few hours the two of them chatted more while Arthur was enjoying his waffles and surprisingly delicious coffee. The two, taking turns asking meaningless questions. Eventually though Arthur had to leave, however this was not in vain as Arthur had promised to come back the next day excited to hangout more with the androids.

From then onwards it became their routine for Arthur to come into the café, have food and chat with the androids and would have to leave again a few hours later. Arthur soon found out the names of the androids, and more specifically the Counter Androids name which her name is Maria. Arthur had gotten to know her a lot more than the others going as to say now even friends, but you didn’t hear it from me. Lately he’s been somewhat of a regular. Well as far as regulars go in the apocalypse at least, it’s like when you give a stray animal food they always come back for more. Arthur hoped that maybe….maybe this time he’ll be able to have a somewhat normal life finally.

But things never stay like that forever…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a ‘normal’ tuesday evening….well as far as normal goes at least now with a new schedule; get up at noonish – according the position of the sun – parkour around from B-1C to Z-0A looking for new survivors foolishly wandering around His city and kill them, then afterwards head to the café. THAT'S IT! That's all that was supposed to happen on a NORMAL day. Except today while looking through section C-5D for survivors he finds a large group of androids, about ten to fifteen that seemed to be patrolling the area looking for… something Arthur couldn’t tell from where he was at the time.

The androids themselves looked as though they were made for either military or the police force of some kind Arthur didn’t care he just wanted these assholes off his turf. Their faces were that of white plastic not as shiny with wear and tear from over the years. The features were that of symmetrical perfection, uncanny valley to that of the norm. The androids all wore the same outfit; an indistinguishable uniform shirt with ruffed up dress pants and dress shoes that look like they’re on their last life. These types of androids are a hivemind. They only follow one ruler and they are told set instructions not all the same though, and most of all are not at all fond of humans. They believe that all humans should be extinct. Which is not great for Arthur at the moment.  

From where Arthur was positioned behind a large piece of concrete, he shouldn’t be found unless one of the androids turns in his general area. So in theory if he just keeps to the side closest to the apartment complexes he should be able to leave scott free. 

…But it’s never that easy…

Just as he was moving  closer to the buildings mentioned before he slipped on a pile of crumbled apartment wall, which caused his gun to fall off his holster hitting other pieces of rock along the way. Which then in turn made one of the androids turn over in his direction. 

No one moved or made a sound for a total of five seconds…. 

Before Arthur fumbled more trying to correct himself before finally running out into one of the alleyways. The androids, realizing that it was indeed a human over where Arthur was originally, go to chase after him. Going through houses and buildings to hopping fences and even secret passageways Arthur thought he only knew, the androids still were on Arthurs tail the entire time. Shooting Arthur to get him to slow down, it worked somewhat with nicking Arthur a few times in the legs and shoulders. But with so much adrenaline pumping in Arthur it didn’t keep him down for long. After what felt like hours they finally reached B-1C and from there he went into the side street to the café, as he finally got some distance on the androids. The only thought that Arthur could conjure up as he turned another corner and saw the lights of the café, was ‘sorry Maria looks like I’m bringing company this time.’ 

Arthur bursted into the happy café, frantically trying to find Maria who just so happened to be at the counter as always looking more concerned by the second. Running over to her he exclaims “Maria, please, you gatta help me they’resthseseguysandithinkthinktheywannakillme!”

“Woe woe woe! Calm down what are yo-” just then the sounds of multiple footsteps could be heard with rapid succession coming towards the café. Right then Maria had to make a decision and fast, “Ok, Arthur you get behind the counter!” Maria explains to Arthur as he does so, she didn’t have to tell the others what to do as they were already pretending as if there was nothing wrong when she turned to them. 

The counter that Arthur was in was…. Not that interesting all in all. It has a hidden compartment, usually used to store extra bottles of alcohol, now used to store a panicking Arthur at the moment.  A loud bang is what sets Arthur further on edge because that can mean only one thing. 

There here…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just up above the counter, in the doorway bursts in the androids from before. They start looking in places around the café with intent, not caring if they're shoving other androids out of the way. “OKAY, THAT’S ENOUGH!” Maria shouted over all the ruckus, getting sick of the blatant disrespect. Surprisingly, she was able to get them to stop, them all standing straight up and forward staring at her. “What I want to know is why you’re making a mess of my store.” Maria was starting to get angry fast if no one here explains themselves. Their captain –from the fact that one else dared to speak– is the one to speak “We are A1-T3CH from Astech Corporation. We were sent to this city with the instruction to bring back a life form that seems to inhabit here regularly. We encountered it once and are searching for it for it has run off. Do you have any knowledge of its whereabouts?” It spoke with indifference as if it was reciting from a stripted. 

These guys are here to hurt him, they're here to hurt Arthur, they're here to hurt your son! Maria could hear over the silence almost unable to think with how loud the system was being but she pushed through. 

“See? Now isn’t that easier than wrecking my shit?” Maria closes her eyes and takes an unneeded breath before she speaks “Anyways I can’t help you with that one since we’ve never seen this ‘life from’ come into our café, Hell! We’ve never left this building for that matter, so if you could be so kind, please leave.” Maria then opens her eyes, and if looks could kill, they all would be a pile of dust sitting at the bottom of a six feet deep hole, “Before I am force to take you out myself” The cameras in the android's eyes shifted, seemingly surprised that one of its kind is being aggressive with its words. 

“Are you threatening our team?” the android said, cocking its head slightly like would a confused dog. Eyes watching Maria like a hawk looking at its next meal. 

“So what if I am?” they’re both inches away from each other, if they were human they would be able to feel their breath on each other. Maria just wanted them away from her boy. 

“Then by proxy I would have to kill you too” and with that it took out a gun and started to fire it, as well Maria ducked under the counter to grab her guns from her holster, “let’s get this over with”. 

From inside the hidden compartment Arthur finally, having calmed down some, could hear loud muffling from up above. When sudden banging and popping started out of nowhere, making Arthur slightly annoyed that he couldn’t see what was going on, because if he did he would be dead. Arthur shifted in his spot, as he did this a shot of white hot pain came from his right shoulder and his left calf, Arthur realised that in his panicked state he forgot about his injuries. After coming to this reaization his injuries were starting to become unbearable, ‘Oh I really hope Maria finishes up what she's doing because I have nothing to wrap these wounds up.’ 

Luckily for Arthur he didn’t have to wait long for as soon as the banging started it soon ended and he was let out. When Maria opened the door, Arthur could see the damage the other androids did. She had a slash with blue ooze trailing down her face and wires sticking out of her arms. “Well it t’k you long ‘nough ‘m in SO much pain I think ‘m going to faint fr’m just the pain” Arthur slurs his words before promptly passing out. Maria, now super concerned with the amount of blood on Arthur and that he just passed out, picks Arthur up carefully and briskly walks upstairs to the second floor of the café and into a small room on the right of the stairs.

 The small room had a slanted roof with baby blue walls, with the room itself looking as if it was originally a baby room but instead of a crib in the corner it’s a twin sized bed, with the dusty covers still on there from years before. The room was otherwise vacant compared to the rest of the café. Maria places Arthur’s sleeping body on the bed and gets to work on fixing his wounds the best she can….

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Arthur finally wakes up the first few things he notes is that one, there are hands on his head slowly carding through his head, two, there is a light coming from somewhere and it’s getting annoying, but whining seemed to get it to leave, and three, whatever he’s on right now is SO comfy at the moment. He could hear quiet laughter above and to the right of him as he shifts more, only to have pain give Arthur a reminder of what happened in the last…. What time is it? 

As Arthur shifts, he opens his eyes and blinks before looking up to see who exactly is touching his hair. When he looks up he can see Maria staring at him, like a mother looking at their baby. She no longer had blue running down her face, now a scar to replace it. It looks like she fixed herself up if the halfass patching is anything to go by. 

“Hey mornin’ sleepy, hope you had an at least somewhat decent sleep.” Maria spoke softly to Arthur as she continued to card her hands through his hair. Arthur closed his eyes and leaned into the warmth he assumed was part of the technology in her, he just grunted in response “five more minutes please?” She humed back in return as she removed her hand “okay, just don’t move to much you are still recovering, I’ll just be down stairs then.” She got up from her chair beside the bed and started to walk out, She was about half way to the door when she heard a mumble from the bed. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite get that, can you repeat yourself?” Maria asked as she made her way back to the bedside. When she got to the bedside Arthur’s hand lazily shot out to grab her and asked quietly “Can you stay…mom?” Arthur’s face warmed so much a rose would be jealous. Arthur, clearly embarrassed hides his face to only show his bright green eyes. Maria, unable to resist the cuteness, sits back in her seat and removes Arthur's hand so that she can go back to carding her hand through his head. 

And they sit like that for the first part of the morning, and later Maria will make sure Arthur’s wounds are healing nicely. Then they would go downstairs to eat and chat, later Arthur would ask to stay in the café and they would stay like that for the years to come like a little weird makeshift family. 

However for now they stay like this with Maria carding her hand through Arthur’s now sleeping body. 

And isn’t that enough?

[ID: Four drawings from darklordofawesomeness' cat Stan series.

The first is a compilation of cat Stan and Wendy; Wendy petting cat Stan, cat Stan sitting on her shoulders, Wendy hugging cat Stan while she cries; toddler Wendy hugging cat Stan to her chest. There is also one human Stan, hugging a despondent Wendy.

The second is a series of drawings of Fiddleford, Ford, and Stan, all cats, curled up together. Stan and Ford are both nearly identical, with dark fur and white markings, although Ford obviously has extra toes. Fiddleford is a tabby.

The third is from the same chapter; Emma May with Fiddleford in one hand and Ford in the other. She's holding Ford to her face and says "Stanford Pines..."; young Tate holding Fiddleford to his chest and squeezing too hard while Fiddleford looks distressed; cat Stan licking cat Ford's head while Ford looks uncomfortable.

The fourth drawing is of Emma May, leaning back and cackling. She is a fat light skinned woman with Tate's nose and dark hair, which covers her eyes. She is wearing a lab coat, and rubber gloves and boots. Her hair is pinned up with a pencil. End ID.]

More cat stans (and some cat fordses), still from @dark-lord-of-awesomeness's cat stan series, this time from Cat Stan Extras. From the wendy chapter, and from the chapter where ford turns himself and fiddleford into cats too. also featuring a design for Emma-May, when i realized that i would need a design for Emma-May

Some recent sketches with the twins and fidds!🎇

[ID: Drawings from darklordofawesomeness' cat Stan au, this time featuring wolf Ford.

In the first, cat Stan is standing on wolf Ford's back. Some helpful text points to them, reading "Same coat color, same eye color, same expression, NOT related".

In the second, cat Stan is sitting on wolf Ford's shoulders, and saying "Wolfy, I'm gonna teach ya how to commit FRAUD." Ford looks nervous.

In the third, there are assorted wolf Fords and cat Stans: Stan curled up on Ford's shoulders; Ford and Stan posing cutely and reluctantly; Stan and Ford sitting in front of an open book. Stan says "If I didn't need this to turn human, I would just laugh at your suffering." Ford says "noted."

The fourth is a two panel comic where Stan teaches Ford to look less like a wolf and more like a dog. Ford is standing like a wolf; head in line with shoulders and tail down. Stan says "Yeah if you wanna fool anyone you need to change your body language", then "Lift your head and tail. Smile. Put your ears forward." Ford, following his instructions, looks significantly more like a dog at a glance. He is smiling, but his eyes are narrowed, and he says "I hate you." Stan says "Better! Now just stop scowling at me."

In the fifth, human Stan drives an extremely sketchy and loosely colored Stanleymobile. Wolf Ford is standing on the door and sticking his head out the window. Stan looks annoyed.

The sixth is nearly identical to the fifth, with the addition of Carla, Fiddleford, and Emma-May in the backseat. They, along with Stan, are dressed like Scooby Doo characters. End ID.]

More cat stans from @dark-lord-of-awesomeness's cat stan series! These are mostly from Double Cursed, except for the last two, which are ostensibly from chapter 52 (How to dognap a man?) of Cat Stan Extras. Except the last one is because i made up scooby doo vibes in my head and i wanted to do something with that. Basically, this is The Post Where Ford is a Wolf.

the comic is because way back when, i saw that one post about how to draw wolves to look more like wolves, and i thought it would be fun to use wolf ford as my guinea pig to test out some of the differences. Since ford is a human person capable of changing his body language! idk if it would fool someone in real life but in image form i do think it works, the second one reads way more doglike.