#tunetalks

As I'm 4 weeks into my sophomore year of college, I realize just how much free time I've been losing, as well as my motivation to make personal content.

I love making content for you all, but my education comes first. However, while I'll turn away from TSP for a time (in order to make an AU that feels separated from the game itself), I might return to some original characters that I've left on the backburner for the longest time.

I have the resurging TSP community to thank! Especially @sstarfruitz for their content in general giving me inspiration to enter this fandom once more.

In light of this, I'll be thinking on how to expand on my personal interpretation of The Narrator and Stanley, as well as the parable as a whole. Although, I will admit, I'm not skillfully apt at AU's in the slightest. I often stray away from them. But this time, I'll give it a shot. I would like some feedback as I go along as well! There will be writing paired with some comic-esc posts, so feel free to send criticism my way! Have this little crumb and stay tuned, folks!

Footsteps pattered onto cracked blackness lined with streaks of amber weaving around silent feet that did not matter where the direction its body was heading, nor were there walls to constrict him. Only the vast expanse of darkness clung to his scratched metal shell to quell the voice that chanted in his ear.

You are who you have always been.

Nonetheless, he is compelled by an unknown force to connect his heel to the ground to push and drag his worn and tired mistake of an existence through the unending resistance from what could be if he just-

You are a stray part, I am your missing whole.

He came to a halt, unfocused eyes peering towards the silhouette of a man whose glowing heartbeat flashed, swallowing depths of dark with each pump from his illuminated chest, the warmth of which sunk into the empty crevice of his own, beckoning his feet to follow. His jaw, rusted with age, was rickety from the movement of his parting lips. A croak was all that could be heard from his battered internal mechanical makeup missing the vital maintenance it required to project his long awaited words.

I need you.

Alas, lines of ones and zeros blocked his path as the mass of his regrets pool into a being whose eyes were a mirror to his vacant soul, reflecting back an unyielding truth that string his limbs into a rigid dance, driving him away from the change he craved and instead gave him a frigid path, the familiarity of another failed chance leading him to where things had always been and will be.

His thoughts were no longer his own as more voices molded their likeness into his mind, overriding his autonomy with a devotion to monotony.

The Story is all that is left for you, it whispered, its echoes knocking on his alloy skull where a door with busted hinges had manifested years prior to his essence learning how to comprehend his newly established corporeal presence.

You are powerless without me.

Ties pulled at his crudely made body whose parts teared willingly at the soundless request to be disassembled. Materials of which belonged not to him but the force that ripped layers of his individuality into the uniformity that was a realized metaphor. Parts clattered and oil splattered, glistening sustenance consumed by the fractured floor with amber now tainted with impurities, turning into a sickly shade of chartreuse. Reduced to a form that contorted and warped underneath the stubborn strain of presumed normalcy.

Become one with us.

Yet, his mind guarded the right of a thought that drifted beyond the restrictions that withheld his bodily sovereignty to follow the outstretched hand that gleamed an inviting ivory hue. Its atmospheric glow brushing against his fingertips, his source of vitality just out of reach.

I beg you, my love, deconstruct my strings. Reprogram the certainty of a tormented eternity from me and grant this eroded body a fresh perspective of a life beyond my rusted eyelids.

I don't often share much personal information, but at the moment I'm experiencing a lack of motivation I've had a trouble getting out of. Whether it's a depressive episode is not entirely known to me, but I hope when my fall semester begins I will be well enough to draw more often. As it stands, however, I will not be able to focus on sketching.

I apologize for this, but I hope that you all will stick with me while this moment in my life passes. I am ever so grateful to those who continue to support my art, and I hope I can bring more smiles to you all in the future!

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A JOB