#the lost

[sonyshock]

Making thank you notes has become my morning routine apparently~

#isaac #tboi #tboi fanart #the lost #the fettered #tbh creature #autism creature #merch #traditional art #sketch #fanart #the binding of isaac

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Lost 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of loss, grieving, death, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: nomad!Steve Rogers

Summary: You move into a shared flat and encounter a mysterious man.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

“And this is your room,” Muriel stops before a door along the short hallway. “You have a neighbour just across the hall, and two more on the other side of the kitchen.”

You nod. It isn’t an ideal situation. Not one you ever saw yourself in. But survival isn’t built for the fussy. There are many others like you. Those not so lucky, those who are dead. Many who never got the choice of a new home.

You keep your hand on your rolling bag, your other on your canvas knapsack. They’re full of items that aren’t your own. Second-hand clothes acquired from shelters and toiletries given out by the support workers. You’re on your own now.

“Anything else, dear?” Muriel asks to your silence.

“Thank you, Muriel,” you murmur.

She hands you the key and leaves. Before showing you your own space, she took you around those shared by the rest of her boarders. You suppose they’re your roommates now. A kitchen, two bathrooms, a front room with a tattered couch and old tube television. You’ll stick to your own four walls.

You slide the key in the slot, the metal grinding loudly. You hear a throat clear and peer towards the noise. The walls must be thin. You’re still alone. You let yourself into the room, pulling the door shut behind you. You flip the lock back into place before you shove your bags by the wall.

There’s a twin bed with a metal frame, a single night table, and a standing lamp. There’s also a shallow closet. It’s not much but you don’t need more than that. It’s good to have a roof over your head.

You sit on the lumpy mattress and the frame squeaks loudly. You stand up again and pace around. There isn’t too much room. It shouldn’t matter, you won’t need it. You’ll be out working and back to sleep again. You start tomorrow at the convenience shop.

You hear a thump and your head pops up. You can’t help but jump in your shoes. Ever since the city rained down around you, every bump, every sudden noise has you skittish. It’s nothing, only another boarder.

You go to your bag and unbuckle the flap. You pull out a can of beans and the pocket knife in the side pocket. You go back to the bed and sit, another shrill whine from the metal frame. You pull out the can open from the pocket knife and peel back the lid. On the same keychain is a small metal spork you use to scoop out the beans, eating them cold as your stomach growls hungrily.

You eat, bite by bite, staring at the wall, just beside the only window. It isn’t home. You don’t expect one of those. It’s just a place to live. To survive.

🚪

You take your toothbrush and your tube of toothpaste with you to the bathroom down the hall. It’s just across from the other bedroom on that side of the flat. The doorway is dark, beckoning you inside. You flip on the light and shut the door as you enter.

You turn on the tap and set to brushing your teeth. Such a basic and simple task but one you didn’t always have the chance to do. It’s almost soothing to feel the bristles in your mouth. It makes you feel almost normal.

You take your time as the mint flavour sticks to your tongue. You rinse your brush and flick off the excess water, sliding it back into the travel tube and capping the paste. You look at yourself in the mirror, not for long, just to make sure you still recognise you.

You clutch your things in one hand and flick the light off. You open the door and nearly shriek at the shadow waiting in the hall. You waver in the doorway as a tiny wisp escapes your throat. You blink as the dark silhouette stands with arms crossed in the dim hall.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” the man says gruffly.

He's tall but mostly obscured. His hair wings out around his neck and his shoulders bulge broadly. You feel his eyes boring into you, as he can see through the darkness and you.

You dip your chin and sidle out, keeping your distance as you sidestep along the wall. You should apologise but your voice is buried deep down. You put your hand up in a show of deference.

“You done?” He asks.

You pause and look at the plaster across from you. You nod then turn your back to him completely. He must be the neighbour. You quickly shuffle to your room and hide behind the door. It’s much better than the shelter, you don’t have someone rolling into your sleeping bag, but still, you’re claustrophobic.

You mourn that most. The sense of privacy. Of personal space. Have a place that’s your own with people you know. People you love.

You toss your toothbrush and toothpaste onto the night table and huff as you sit on the bed. You frown and push your head back, trying to soothe the tightness between your shoulders. You blow out, breath rattling as your nose tingles.

You can never go back to Sokovia or how it was. You can only go forward and the road ahead is very lonely.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #series #the lost #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers #nomad!steve

[chiiroptereh]

This is gonna be incomprehensible for like 9/10 people

Context under the cut

My sister has been begging me to draw over this meme for literally almost a year now and it was finally time.

I was laughing the entire time I still can't look at it I'm so borken in the brain

#digital art #fan art #the binding of isaac #tboi #tboi isaac #the lost #tboi dogma #meme #shitpost

[sgtxavi]

some art peices stuff

#digital art #digital aritst #isaac designs #isaac #siren #fanart #the binding of isaac #adversary #isaac dad #isaac mom #baby plum #the lost

[mr-spider-but-gay-and-trans]

Chronicles propaganda

#changeling the lost #chronicles of darkness #vampire the masquerade #world of darkness #dnd #d&d #changeling #the lost #fairy #fae

[dnd-smash-pass-vs]

So this one's interesting, it's a person turned into a manifestation of the fear/anxiety of being lost. They're DESPARATE for a hug to try and calm down. Only issue is they cause anyone they're hugging to become just as panicked and starts shredding thier mind in fear. This one doesn't actually want to hurt you though, so if you can dodge the arm spikes and have a way to ignore psychic damage you're actually good.

#the lost #sorrowsworn #dnd #dnd5e #DnD 5e #d&d #smash or pass #5e #monsters of the multiverse #mpmm

[crocobee]

Another art dump, I make way too much art to forget to post here

#digital art #digital fanart #pokemon #my art #others ocs #cassette beasts #doopliss #paper mario #mario #dead cells bobby #lugia #goomy #mimikyu #risk of rain #risk of rain 2 #void fiend #mithrix #risk of rain 2 commando #binding of isaac #the lost #dead cells

[rubeau-art]

Grief.

This thought possessed me on the long drive after talking to a friend about some of Ren’s things. Finally got it down.

#Reynard Walker #The Lost #Darkbloom #horror oc #angel #cw body horror #body horror

[radiotrophicfungi]

BLINKIE SET #18 . . . THE LOST (TBOI)

#the binding of isaac #tboi #the lost #tainted lost #blinkie #blinkies #page decoration #page decor #old web #old internet #because well. i like him :) #i have a plushie of him staring at me on my desk #flashing lights

[shamefulcorpse]

Are y'all planning to donate if there's nothing y'all wanna buy?

#blue baby tboi #the lost #cain tboi #cain #the binding of isaac #ask #Anonymous

[kisamyuki]

Godhead 👁️

#the binding of isaac #tboi #tboi fanart #the lost #my art

[attex]

piendish lost

#the lost #the lost tboi #tboi #the binding of isaac #[rare art tag] #cc #piendish

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Lost 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of loss, grieving, death, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: nomad!Steve Rogers

Summary: You move into a shared flat and encounter a mysterious man.

This one's a bit longer than the intro.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Your first shift at the store goes well enough. Aziz, the manager, shows you where everything is and goes over the policies. The till is behind a window, a slot just big enough to get products and money through. It’s close to your apartment so not the best part of town. The next day, you’ll be alone.

You head home with a dented can of ginger ale in your bag. Aziz said you could have it for free since half the paint was scraped off during shipping. You don’t drink much soda but it would be a nice treat.

You find yourself dragging your feet as you come onto your street. You’re still getting your bearings but you recognize the boarded up white brick building across from the converted two-storey house. You stare at the faded brown facade of your abode, fumbling with your keys nervously. You still feel so out of place.

You cross the road and climb the steep iron staircase that leads up the side of the house to the second floor. The heavy metal grate that shields the thick wooden door rattles as you open it and clanks behind you loudly despite your efforts to keep quiet. The place feels desolate as you enter. Aside from last night, you haven’t encountered anyone else.

You creep into the kitchen and go to the fridge. On it, there’s a yellow paper with blue ink on it; numbered bullets that you read slowly. ‘House Rules’, the jagged capitals spell out the title above at least a dozen lines. ‘Clean up after yourself; mark your food; no stealing.’ That paper feels very apathetic, suggesting that no one really talks to each other here. Maybe it’s better that way.

You open the fridge and search your bag for your can of ginger ale. You hesitate to put it inside. You have no way of marking it. You consider the remnants of the logo on the side. You could just have it warm.

“There’s a sharpie in the top drawer,” a voice breaks the rigid silence like cracking ice.

You glance over at the man standing in the doorway, the same that leads to your bedroom. You quickly peel away your eyes and nod. You can’t manage a thank you as your surprise has your adrenaline pulsing.

You close the fridge and put the can on the counter. You open a drawer, not much inside besides electric tape and the promised sharpie. You write your initials on the top of the can as the man enters and stops a few feet from you, popping open a cupboard with a harsh click.

You think it must be the same man as the night before. He’s about the same size as the ominous shadow, at least from your periphery glance. You sidle over and pull the fridge open once more, setting your can in the door before you close it gently.

Tension roils around you as the man takes out a large container. It’s unmarked except for the sharpie emblazoned on the white plastic; ‘S’. Just a single letter.

You back away and fix your bag on your shoulder, shuffling around him in the small kitchen. He doesn’t say anything but you can hear his long exhale. It sticks with you how easily he’s snuck up on you twice. You shrug it off as paranoia from the shelter.

You’ll be okay. You have a lock on the door here. You have your own space. A tiny haven in an immense world.

🚪

Your first shift alone isn’t as intimidating as you thought. Most people come in and grab what they need then go. You ring them through with as much friendliness as you can muster. Most don’t respond, some chatter a bit, rambling about a thousand different things, and others even glare at you as they point to the small earbud in their ears. The flow of customers is ebbs and flows, busier around lunchtime and dull after two.

You’re almost done with your hours there. You take the time to bring out the bag of chips Aziz marked for stocking. You sit on the step stool as you set to find the palace for each brand. You put the Cheetos on the shelf as the door chimes and signals the entry of a customer.

You stand and peek over the shelf. You see only a man’s shoulders and the back of his head as he turns his back to you, perusing the wall of magazines. His hair pokes out in shaggy shanks from a ball cap. You grab the folding foot stool and the box and quickly scurry back behind the counter.

You put them down clumsily, a loud clap as the stool falls against the back of the counter. You pull shut the divider behind you and go to the till. You brace the counter as you peer over at the man again but try not to stalk him.

He strides slowly through the store, just along the back wall as he peruses the bottles and cans of cold drinks. He opens a door and takes something out. You look down and review the checklist for your shift. The last thing you need to do is balance the till before the evening shift gets here.

You listen to the man’s steps, flicking your eyes up now and again to keep track of him. You can also see him on the security screen through the black and white lens. You don’t even get a good look at him then as he keeps his chin straight, the beak of his cap effectively hiding his features.

He approaches the counter and you pop your head up. You’re stunned to recognise him. The same man from your flat. Your neighbour. Nameless and mysterious.

“Hey,” he says as he puts his fare on the other side of the plastic barrier.

“Hello,” you eke out. You’re getting used to your own voice again. In this job, you don’t have a choice. “This everything?”

“Mhmm,” the hum is rocky in his throat. 

You grab the two bottles, part of a two for three deal, and scan the premade protein milkshakes one at a time, then the magazine, Time, and a bag of pretzels. Nothing too unusual. His fingertips scratch the coarse hair along his jaw as he clears his throat.

You read out his total and he reaches into his jacket. He pulls out several bills and counts them out before handing them over. You take them and tally his change from the drawer.

“Shouldn’t be working alone,” he comments as he holds his hand out for the change.

You drop the coins into his cupped palm and recoil at his remark.

“Not to scare you,” he tucks the change away.

You shake your head. No, you thought it before but a job’s a job. You scrunch your lips and look around evasively.

“Do you want a bag?” You offer, not knowing how else to respond.

“Please,” he accepts, “and thank you.”

You nod and pull out a bag. You take his items and shove them inside as he watches quietly. You push them through the slot and he takes the handles, pausing as you feel him looking at you.

“When you walk home, avoid Mason Street. Go one up to Doxtator. Safer,” he advises.

You dip your chin, embarrassed. You know you don’t look like much but you can take care of yourself. You have so far.

He leans back on his heel before twisting on his soles. It squeaks with his slow hesitation and he marches to the door. You look up as the chime goes off and he disappears into the street. Only forty minutes to go.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #series #the lost #mcu #marvel #avengers #captain america #nomad!steve

[canadianhottmess]

It has to be Paul. Like his death was a gore fest and so fuckin dramatic. (Dwayne is the close second. Lol)

#the lost

[sgtxavi]

middle school isaac au

#isaac designs #isaac #the binding of isaac #fanart #judas #cain #magdalane #lilith #keeper #the lost #blue baby #samson #bethany #lazarus #azazel #eden #the forgotten #apollyon #jacob #esau #eve #siren #satan #gabriel #adversary #baby plum

[sonyshock]

Broken apart

I feel everyone with divorced parents can relate to Isaac, totally not speaking from experience~ Social media ⭐Commissions⭐ PAPERCUT

Posted using PostyBirb

#art #fanart #the binding of isaac #isaac #samson #maggy #eve #esau #jacob #the lost #the forgotten #mom #magdelene #illustration #blue baby