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Graphic Design is my passion

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Only Gordon can roast just by eating a hamburger

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Reblog if you are a fanfiction author and would like your readers to put one of your fic titles in your ask + questions about it

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35 Questions for Fanfiction Writers! ✨

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I love how we as a fandom agreed that the Warners prototypes radiate a menacing energy

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The Concept Artist

Chapter 1

1998

It had all started with a letter. A seemingly unimportant, unsuspecting letter to one Lon Boraz and the Animaniacs. 

The Warners were filming their newest film, "Wakko's Wish," when they heard Sandra, their ever friendly mail carrier, trying to get through the sea of crew to deliver a letter to the three. "I need to get this letter to them! Please, I can never get the letters up the tower, I just need to hand them to the Warners, and then I'll leave."

"Sandra, they're in the middle of filming, if you would just--" 

"It's okay, Ron, I think we're done anyways," the director told him. "Come on in, Sandra."

Ron shot Sandra a dirty look before letting her pass. "Here you go, kids. Sorry to interrupt filming," Sandra handed them the letter before turning to exit.

"Thank you, Sandra!" The Warner siblings called before haphazardly tearing the letter open.

"What does it say, Yakko?" Dot asked.

"Oh, please tell us!" Wakko chimed in.

"Alright, alright, hold your horses," Yakko laughed. "Ahem, 'Lon, I've missed you my dearest friend. We've missed you. I know we've had our differences in the past, but I would love to see you again. Come visit the old studio again, and bring those Warners of yours with you, I'm sure they'd love to see how it all began. -Fredrick.'"

"Lon?" Dot asked. "Like Lon Borax? I thought he retired... and went nuts."

"He did. Old Freddy here must not be too close with Lon," Yakko muttered.

"Well, why don't we ask him to take us?" Yakko froze.

"I-I don't think that's such a great plan Wak. Lon isn't the most stable guy."

"Come on, Yakko. He created us! And we could at least ask for the address to the studio!" Dot chimed in.

"I don't even know if we should go to the studio, Dot. Something feels off with all thi-- hey!"

Before Yakko could even finish his sentence, his siblings were taking off to find Lon. Yakko sighed. "I guess there isn't any talking them out of it now."

 

Lon Borax lived on the outskirts of Burbank in the Home For Retired Animators (Who Went Insane). Yakko never much liked the place. It always gave off odd vibes, smelled old and musty and the bars that had adorned each window always reminded him of his own imprisonment in the water tower. He shook his head, as if to rid himself of the thoughts. He wouldn't be there long, all they had to be there for was talking to Lon, getting the address, and then dealing with his siblings.

As they approached, Yakko could make out the figure of a slender woman sitting at a desk near the front, the secretary, he assumed. If Yakko hadn't liked the building from the outside, he liked the inside even less. The faded yellow paint peeled at the corners and looked scratched in the middle, as if someone had tried to rip it from the walls. The air conditioning was deafening and made the room entirely too cold. How someone could work, let alone live here, Yakko would never know.

"Excuse me ma'am," Wakko asked as they approached the woman's desk. "We're here to see Lon Borax."

"And who should I say is here," the woman asked them.

"We're the Warner brothers!"

"And the Warner sister!"

The woman, Stacy, Yakko deduced from her name tag, typed at her laptop before looking up at them. "You three are the Warners?"

"Yep, that's us," Dot said, batting her eyes for effect.

"I'm afraid Mr. Borax isn't taking any visitors. Sorry kids, I'll tell him you stopped by."

"Oh, don't worry," Wakko waved his hand dismissively. "We won't be long."

"Maybe I wasn't making myself clear enough the first time. Mr. Borax won't see anybody. Now, I'm very sorry, but I have to ask you to leave," Stacy told them, shooing them out the door. 

"But we came all this way!" Dot cried.

"I know, and I'm sorry but--"

"What's all that racket?" A male voice from inside called.

"Nothing, Mr. James!" Stacy called back, trying to push the three outside, but they just dug their heels in.

"We want to see Mr. Borax!" Dot cried once again.

"For the love of God, Stacy, just let them in already!" The man... Mr. James hollered.

"But sir--"

"Let them in!"

Finally, Stacy stopped pushing them, letting them pass her by.

"Borax is in room 258," Mr. James said, not even glancing up from his newspaper.

"Thank you!" The Warners laughed as they planted a big, sloppy kiss on the man's face.

"Bah! You kids better hurry before I change my mind!"

The Warners just laughed as they ran down the hall in search of room 258. Soon, the air smelled mustier than before, if that were possible. The pit in Yakko's stomach grew heavier as he saw they were coming up on Lon's room. He never had much trust with the man. He knew that Lon was here for a reason, and was highly capable of violence if he wanted to be. His siblings, however, had always looked up to him in a way. It made sense he supposed, he had created them after all. But from Yakko's minimal knowledge of the man, there was one thing he knew for certain, Lon Borax hated the Warners, and wanted nothing more than to be rid of them for good.

Before Yakko realized it, there it was. room 258. 

"Sibs," Yakko started, stopping them from turning the handle of the old oak door. "Lon may not be thrilled to see us..."

"What do you mean by that, Yakko?" Dot asked.

"I-Lon... just... don't get your hopes us about him, okay?"

Dot and Wakko nodded hesitantly, before turning the handle to open the creaking wooden door.

"Nurse, for the last time, I don't want your crap JELLO!" Lon screamed when he heard the door squeak open. Dot and Wakko flinched, not anticipating such a forceful greeting. Yakko, however, stood perfectly still, as if he had known this was coming, As his siblings stood frozen in the entryway, Yakko walked into the room, his face calm and collected, but his hands subtly trembling by his sides.

"Lon Borax?" he asked.

"The f*ck do you want?" Any other time, Yakko would have made a witty remark about how even on the outskirts of the studio, the censoring was still there, but he was too nervous for that. Lon's face was burried under blankets, but Yakko could could see he was eerily thin and deathly pale.

"It's Yakko Warner. We need to talk."

Lon whipped around to face him, and his siblings who had hesitantly been looking in from the doorframe. "You," he spat. "You're the miserable freaks of nature that got me stuck here."

Yakko flinched, "I'm not thrilled to see you either, Lon. So let's make this as quick as possible, yeah?" Lon grunted. "Great. We got a letter. It's addressed to you, but it concerns us as well, so we got it first," Yakko handed him the letter.

"First you steal my career, now my mail," Yakko heard him growl under his breath. He read the letter, eyes widening. Finally, he finished, throwing the letter at Yakko. "I ain't taking you kids, if that's what you think is happening here."

Yakko swallowed, "I didn't think you would. Could you tell us the address of the studio?"

"There's a return address, moron. It's the studio address. Now get out of my room."

Yakko stared at the envelope, and sure enough, a return address was penciled in at the top left hand corner. Yakko felt a small pit of anger bubble in his stomach as he realized he could have avoided this whole encounter, kept Wakko and Dot's image of the man untainted. 

"Are you f*cking deaf? I said get out of my room!" Lon howled, throwing a glass at Yakko. It landed about a foot from Yakko's feet, but it shattered on impact, sending shards of glass hurtling at Yakko, Wakko, and Dot. Luckily, none of the shards hit them, but when Yakko heard Dot start to cry, Yakko realized this man was not against throwing something else, potentially more dangerous, so Yakko hurriedly ran to his siblings, being quick to get them from the foul smelling building, to the damp grass outside. Dot was crying quite heavily, and Wakko was shaking like a leaf.

"Are you two okay?" Yakko asked. "He didn't hit either of you, did he?"

Wakko and Dot shook their heads. 

"Why was he so mean?" Wakko asked finally. "I thought-I thought he'd like us."

Yakko brought them both in for a hug. "Some people are just mean," Yakko whispered. "And need someone to blame their troubles on."

Though neither sibling was willing to bring it up, they could feel Yakko shaking as he said it. Whether from anger, fear, or both, they couldn't tell. And they weren't sure they were willing to find out.

 

Alright, I hope you guys enjoyed and if you did please give this a like, a reblog or check it out on Ao3

#animaniacs #angst #horror #concept artist #mcclain writes #yakko #animaniacs yakko #wakko #wakko warner #dot #dot warner #fanfic #fanfiction

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me, getting ready to throw the kids into yet another horribly traumatic situation:

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STOP SCROLLING!

Oka, I plan on following everyone on tumblr

literally everyone

Please reblog so I can make this happen

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Is method writing a thing? Cause like I was writing and now I'm listening to Disney music because I almost snapped my pencil I got so mad. And I wasn't really mad about anything, but the character I was writing for was really mad and I started getting mad with them

#writing #animaniacs #mcclain speaks

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I don't want to sleep tonight because I don't want to get nightmares, but I know that if I don't sleep, they'll just boil over into the real world

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Doing a 30 day PTSD challenge.

Today is day 1: What symptoms do you have?

Flashbacks, intrusive thoughts and nightmares have always been big ones for me. And I don't know if this counts as symptoms but I can't really trust anyone very easily. Even people I love and trust, i still suspect of having ulterior motives. Hypervigilance for sure. I can't remember the last time I wasn't scanning every hallway before I stepped into it or looking over my shoulder every time I'm out in public. Does irrational thoughts count? Because some nights I sit on the edge of my bed, obsessively watching my window because I'm scared someone will come to it or something. And avoiding sleep has become a thing as well, avoiding the nightmares and such. My nightmares have been getting vivid enough that I start having a hard time figuring out if it was a nightmare or a memory

#ptsd #flashbacks #nightmares

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Just in case you were feeling discouraged.

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20 Writing Questions Because I'm Bored

What's your favorite fanfiction trope?

Do you prefer typing or handwriting on a first draft?

Do you listen to music while you write?

Do you prefer reading or writing?

Do you prefer poetry or prose?

Do you have writing accounts on other platforms?

What is your favorite piece you've written?

Do you prefer to type a final draft on your phone or on a computer?

Do you enjoy writing?

What are your favorite fandom to write for?

What's your favorite genre to write?

Do you write ship-based stories?

Are you an AU or in-cannon writer?

Where do you pull inspiration from

Who's your favorite author

Who's your favorite author in fanfiction?

Would you rather be professionally published but have almost no readers or be only published on free sites and have tons of readers?

What project are you mostly focused on right now?

Do you prefer writing long or short stories?

Any other questions you want to ask

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Spooky Stuff

K, so I know I mentioned this earlier as like, “you guys tell me if you wanna know!” But I kinda want you guys to know so here we go. Brief warning, uh, it’s spooky, it scared me but in retrospect it’s not that freaky.

Okay imma start by saying idk if ghosts are real, idk if my experiences were ghosts and most of all, idk how accurate my memory is on these as it was a while ago. Okay, lets get started, shall we? Ever since I was a kid, I was scared of the dark as most little kids are. I had a terrible fear that once I turned the lights off, ghosts and monsters would jump me or that if I left my window curtains open, I would find a face looking back at me, watching me sleep. This fear was mostly unfounded, I just happened to be afraid of what I couldn’t see. Which is why the first time something strange happened, I chalked it up to my imagination. 

I had been sleeping in my living room on the couch, having fallen asleep watching cartoons. Now my house at the time had 3 bedrooms, and the closest one was about 30 feet from where I was sleeping, making it impossible to hear anything from it unless the door was open (which it was not) or if you could hear anything, it would be very faint. I woke up around 3 AM, which had disturbed me quite a bit due to the reputation of that hour and the sheer darkness of the room, but I was already terrified of something else, deep breathing that seemed to be coming from an unknown source against my right ear. Now as I said before, the closest bedroom was 30 feet away where I would barely be able to hear talking, much less breathing. To my knowledge, no one else was in the room, and I was completely alone, but as I got up to locate the source, it abruptly stopped, and after a few minutes of tension where I could feel the pounding of my heart, I decided it must have been the tired state I was in, and went back to sleep.

I didn’t think much of it for about 2 weeks after it had happened. But then there was that one night when I heard it again, and this time I was slower to decide it wasn’t real. I was laying in my bed, and it was only 8 o’clock. I wasn’t tired yet, it was an early hour, and I heard it again. The same deep breathing, except this time to the other side of me, to the direction of the wall that stood next to my bed. I was terrified but still curious as to what was happening. Once again, I looked for the source, so as I leaned closer to the wall, it grew louder. I don’t know why it surprised me as that was where I had heard the noise in the first place, but it shook me to my core. I ran from my room as fast as I could and to my dad in the room down the hall, trying to tell him what it was that I had experienced. He didn’t believe me and sent me back to bed, the breathing never stopped and it continued until I feel into a restless sleep. 

Not much happened afterwards, except for the figure of a girl in a white hospital gown watching me at the foot of my bed, whispering something I couldn’t make out, but I later chalked that up to the melatonin I had taken before heading to bed. Ever since then, I’ve been paranoid, I’ve been terrified to walk in the hall at nighttime, I keep my windows, doors and curtains firmly shut and play white noise to make myself fall asleep, in fear of the breathing returning, in fear of it becoming something bigger than just noises in the night. I have no way to convince you that this is the truth, nor do I have the ability to convince myself of it, but it is something to think about, and for now, it will remain unsolved.

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Guys I hate to be pushy but i have a week to get 1000 followers or my sister is outing me to my homophobic family

@yashee-but-jjba @sociallyawkwardphangirl @soft-words-and-things