#rlau

[bambi-bear-artz]

A Toy Freddy Nightmare Drawing I did a while ago - His name is Winnie. <3

He’s like, 4’ tall. I love him-

[kurtccrane]

Rusty lake fanartists, lemme see your rusty lake ocs/personas!! I love rl ocs and would love to meet some of them + see if they'd be good friends with my ocs👀

[luescris]

A RESISTANCE AU YOU SAY 👀👀👀 I’d love to know more about that one-

Well, unfortunately, that Au is. The one that I have not exactly done much with despite it being like my first Au for PnF 😅😅😅

Though does that mean I don't have a story for it?? Or any designs??? Of course I have all that whaddya think it's been in the back of my head for so LONG

So anyway!!!!! Here's a quick little thing that I whipped up just for you to show!! ^3^ I can't post any of the actual story or anything yet but hopefully this will do!!! :D

[bambi-bear-artz]

A headshot of my dear Nightmare Toy Chica Design. <3 Ms. Sabrina.

I love how it looks like a sticker, lol.

[kurtccrane]

what if....an alternate paradox timeline

Not really that proud of this one because I kinda forgot what brush I was using but I really like the concept

[kurtccrane]

People of Tumblr, which one should I start first hehe?

[queermaeda]

rlau(real life au) where time travel exists but instead of timetravel, its more accurately described as timeline travel, bc every time someone timetravels they split the timeline, so only one timetraveler can ever exist in one universe, because you always split into your own unique timeline each time, which is why time travelers aren’t a well known and well documented phenomenon, even though they’re real (in this rlau), because theres only ever one, and as such, any havoc caused is just a particular intelligent, unique, or creative individual

[squarejaw-jordan-blog]

Chapter 20-- Rain

            Kit stared out the window at the grey raindrops pelting the washed-out landscape and blew the steam away from her tea. “Does it always rain this much in September?” she asked.

            “Sometimes,” Lizzie answered from behind the counter. “But it’s been a while, so we’re grateful for the moisture.”

            Moisture, Kit thought, mouthing the word and feeling it on her slightly burnt tongue before she took another sip of tea. In New York the rain would enliven the world and make everything richer, brighter, more vibrant in every aspect. The trees would become items of stark contrast with deep brown bark soaking in the life water and the leaves would dance as the droplets bounced off their brightly green forms. Kit felt more alive when breathing in the refreshing scent of wet dirt and pavement and feeling the drops on her skin and hair. But here, in the desert, with this kind of heavy downpour, the world was grey. Grey drops, grey-brown dirt, brown-grey wood soaking in the streaks of rain.

            “At any rate,” Kira piped up from the corner where she had set her easel and was muttering to herself over a watercolor, “no one’s coming in this deluge.”

            As if out of spite, the door swung open with a swirl of wind and rain to reveal the soaking wet form of Deputy Ivy.

            “Ivy!” Lizzie exclaimed, rushing towards her. “What are you doing here?”

            The deputy waved her off and simply said, “Something warm, please.” She sat down next to Kit.

            Kit could feel her gaze, but instead became very interested in Bert who was leaning over Kira’s painting and asking questions. He was smiling, but Kira looked slightly confused as she explained what it was she was painting, why and how. There was something between the two that Kit wondered at…

            Her thoughts were interrupted by the moist slap of damp paper landing on the table. She looked at the four folded notes, ink letters showing through the compromised sheets.

            “Haven’t seen you around the station for a couple of weeks,” Ivy said sternly, staring at Kit as she sipped the steaming drink Lizzie set in front of her. “These were left for you.”

            “I’m sorry,” Kit said quietly, gathering the reports from Squarejaw towards herself. “I just thought--”

            “That just ‘cause Matthias is dead everything just stops?” Ivy shook her head. “Squarejaw’s still going and as long as he does that, you keep writing about it.”

            “But the new sheriff--”

            “Isn’t here yet. We’ll deal with him when he comes. I pray to God that he will accept Squarejaw and let us keep doing our thing, but in the event that he doesn’t we’ll work it out. But you need to keep writing!”

            Kit looked up at her slowly. “Why? Why do you care?”

            Ivy sighed. “Because this is your livelihood, your life right now, Kit. You write about Squarejaw and that’s what’s supporting you. But it’s also what’s supporting us. Everyone who reads your stories is affected by your words. Squarejaw Jordan brings hope to those out here who are looking for something to believe in, someone who stands for right and justice.”

            “Not everything I write about him is flattering,” Kit reminded. “He killed that man in a horrible manner.”

            “That just shows that he’s human!” Ivy insisted. She sat back with a sigh and admitted, “I miss your stories, Kit. With Matthias gone and this wild card coming, I need some stability, some hope. Squarejaw keeps doing his job. Please keep doing yours.”

            She drained her cup and left, quickly disappearing into the rain. Kit stared out the window for a while before picking up the notes. Squarejaw Jordan had become more helpful in the past couple of months, including some details of his adventures rather than simply where to pick up the captured fugitive. However, Kit smirked as she read these notes, certain that he was exaggerating his heroics.

            She would tweak the details. Kit continued to smile as she climbed the stairs to her shared room that smelled faintly of paint and sat down at her typewriter. She would keep Squarejaw Jordan human, yet heroic. She read again the note:

            Stopped a dozen robbers before they could execute their plan. Ran out of ammo and apprehended them with nothing more than rope and a bucket. You fill in the details, my writer.

            Kit rolled her eyes, thinking he must have written the note knowing how funny yet frustrating she would find it. Squarejaw doesn’t run out of ammo, she thought as she began to type. But he does find himself in tight situations that my require rigging a rope and a bucket…

            It felt so good to be writing again, she wondered how she ever stopped. But her mind kept wandering to those last two words in his note: “My writer.”