#I'll probably write stanley death in his eyes

[saneandrocking]

I need more about dead stan au

To be clear, I'm not sure if this idea has been already exposed and is the theme of someone's fanfic out there. I just like Dead people AU and suffering. With that said, I kinda raw dog this righ here and I hope you like the flavor!

Bits of context: This is the AU where Stan dies while he's sleeping in his car, is basically a casuality of him getting robbed, reacting and getting killed, nothing much in the side of the extraordinary. I don't remeber exactly all of the series details, but I'm rewatching it, I promise! Yes, it's a music fic, cause I'm corny. The lyrics at the right are Standford's and they belong to Come Home by One Republic and the lyrics at the left are Stanley's and they belong to Take me home by Jess Glynne, because this is how I pictured they both feel at this moment in their respective lives. Remember: Stanley's is barely a legal adult whe he's is evicted from his house and he has canonically hold a grudge because of it, and I don't think I need to justify Stanford's anger. They both have made decision that are unmistakenly selfish, and that does not define their whole characters. Kissessss!

Major trigger: Grief. Major Character Death. Curse language.

After the fallout between the Pines twins, Stanford was accepted into another university, less prestigious but with generous resources for his research. Alongside Fiddleford, he was determined to prove to the rest of the scientific community that this world was far from being fully explained by the already known elements of nature. He was more motivated than ever to delve into the obscure side of anomalies. He was going to make sure his name was not forgotten in history. He's ambitious, he has something to prove, and he feels—or has always felt—like he's already running out of time to do it, so he's fighting against the clock.

Well, hello, world

Hope you're listening

Forgive me if I'm young

For speaking out of turn

He's in his dormitory room at the college he attends, and Fiddleford is taking a well-deserved nap after helping him with some more references, while he's still researching one of the maps of anomalies recorded in the last decade. There's a certain frequency in certain areas, not old-fashioned publicity tricks to attract attention, no, it's something more… He feels like he's going in circles, even though he can see there's a pattern there. He squeezes his tired eyes; the low lighting isn't doing him any favors when the telephone (something Fiddleford found in the trash and brought home to fix) rings. It's three after midnight, and he knows nothing good can come of this.

He doesn't have time to say anything after picking up the damn thing ringing like crazy and putting it to his ear.

—Stanford, for God's sake, why aren't you answering this damn thing?! I've used all my coins trying to call the university, but they only gave me your roommate's number— a feminine voice berates him. He waits a few seconds, trying to place that strident voice, but the answer comes quickly, of course. The only woman who would call him in the middle of the night is his mom.

—Mom. I've already told you, I don't have time! I have to study even harder since Stan— He stops himself, angry. Sometimes, remembering his brother is still a mix of anger and resentment that he can't fully name to this day. He sighs.

There is someone I've been missing

—It's not the time for that! It's about your brother.— Her tone is not authoritative, but there's an agony there, a desperation that only a mother can express. A guilt trip is what she does best, he thinks bitterly somehow.

Wrapped up, so consumed by All this hurt If you ask me, don't Know where to start

—Mom, what the actual—why would I care what he does?! He ruined everything for me! I'm going to hang up now, I'm busy, call me later.— Deep down, he already feels bad enough for talking to her like that. His poor mother has tried her best all her life, just as he is doing now. And, vaguely, probably Stan is living like that too, even if his best is in another category of stupidity.

—No, no, please!— Loud sobs interrupt her speech, and he sobers up right there. His mom is not one to cry over just anything. —Ford, he is…

—Mom? What happened? I'm sorry, I lashed out.— He runs his hand through his hair, breathing in and out. —What did he do now?— A long and strained sigh, again. Why does everything have to be a problem with Stan? —Are we talking about Stan or the baby? If it's the first, let me guess.— There's a certain humor in the guessing game; he bets Stan did some nonsense expecting him to clean up after him. Again.

Anger, love, confusion Roads that go nowhere I know that somewhere better

—He's dead, Stanford. Stanley's dead,— she says finally.

—What,— he says, as if in a chokehold, struggling to get the words out.

—I'm going to pass you to your dad, he'll…— His mother chokes on her words and murmurs loudly, —My baby boy Stanley…

—Mom?! What—I can't—!— He's lost. That's all he can say and think. Stanley's lost, not dead, just lost. The idea of death is too much.

I think that they could be

The better half of me

They're in the wrong place

Tryin' to make it right

But I'm tired of justifying

—Hello, son.— The serious and deep tone of his dad doesn't do much to calm the desperate young man; it only intensifies his horror. Stanley's lost. Lost is the word they are searching for.

—Can someone just tell me what I just heard? Stanley is—it can't be, Dad…please, talk to me! He's lost?— Why does he ask something as stupid as this? He knows what he heard.

So I say to you

Come home, come home

'Cause I've been waiting for you

—It's what your mother told you. I have nothing more to say. The funeral— The rest of his words get lost in the moment. All Stanford could hear was the sound of the pen he was holding before it fell onto the table, and the room he shared with his friend became a world of its own. An empty and devastated world, full of silence and sorrow.

Would you take the wheel If I lose control? If I'm lying here Will you take me home?

Stanford can't remember how this conversation ended, how his too-hard-to-impress father explained with a shaky and strained voice when the event was going to be. He didn't even have the money to buy something formal to wear to his brother's burial. Would he be buried in his father's suit? He can only describe the slow and painful realization that came with the equally painful heartache: his twin was dead. If there was such a thing as another half of someone, his was dead and about to be buried six feet under within the next hours.

Could you take care Of a broken soul? Will you hold me now? Oh, will you take me home?

The one and only Stanley Pines died far from home, probably alone, while Ford was studying the anomalies of the world, trying to once in a lifetime feel like he belonged, only to discover that nothing could have been more important than his blood—but suddenly, that was a too-late realization.

Fiddleford stared at him as he fell to his knees, too stunned to utter a word, too broken to make sense. He later woke from this numbness holding a cup of coffee in his hands, tears rolling down his cheeks. Stan was dead, and he was alive, and now this is what he'll remember for the rest of his conscious life. This, and the broken look on his mother's face when she saw him at her door on the same day her other son died—his father did not have the strength to look directly at him.

And right now there's a war between the vanities

But all I see is you and me

And the fight for you is all I've ever known

So come home

At the funeral, the only ones present were him and his mother. Despite all the emotions (too overwhelming for Ford to watch, by the way), his father outright refused to see Stanley in the coffin. —I can't take it. I'm not man enough to watch it. Take care of your mother.

He prayed that day, to a God he wasn't sure could even hear him. The guilt was louder than him, but he tried anyway. With all the conflicting feelings in his chest, between his anger and profound grief, he did what he could with all of that, standing side by side with the cold body of his deceased brother. The mirror image of himself lying down, more neat than ever.

The world ain't half as bad

As they paint it to be

If all the sons, all the daughters

Stopped to take it in

Well, hopefully, the hate subsides

And the love can begin

It might start now, yeah

Well, maybe I'm just dreaming out loud

—I will fix this, Stan. I swear. Or I'll see you after giving up. Either way: wait for me one more time.

Everything I can't be

Is everything you should be

And that's why I need you here

[cantgetworsethanthistbh]

fluffy kid!stancest first kiss on glass shard beach would be so cute maybe by the swings or when they first find what would become the stan o war

combining these two together, but 2nd anon PLEASE know your ask got me writing old stancest at first that immediately turned hurt and comfort, so i'll be posting that when i actually finish it udndhdhdu this one is a bit of a rush job, BUT i hope you guys like it! this is my first time writing kid stancest, trying to run my head over how boys just banter and this is the best i could relay lmao. also if ford's internal dialogue isnt as flowery as it ought to be, it's mostly because i do still want it to sound like it's coming from a child, and i imagine Ford's internal dialogue wasn't fully realized until he's at least a littls older, you know?

anyway enough stalling: please enjoy!

~~~

Ford thinks he could stay like this forever.

Sitting on a crate, Stanford watches Stanley draw on the sand with the end of a big stick, planning all their great adventures when they finally get out of this place, the promise of their Big Day of Adventure made them giddy all day, bouncing on the heels of their feet all over the beach until the deck guys they "borrowed" a can of paint from earlier found them, chasing them off and forcing the two of them to take cover. They did, only belatedly realizing they had to come back for their ship since their dream did rely on them fixing up the boat to be in top condition for it to sail. Luckily they didn't take their ship, so the two of them were able to push it back into the alcove they found it, keeping it their own little secret.

Ford looks at it in awe again. In bold letters, "The Stan O' War" stares back at him. Their promise of the future. A future with his brother, forever

"And then— Poindexter are ya listening?!" Stan asks, tapping the stick lightly on Ford's head who swats it away with a laugh.

"Yeah, yeah! I am, I am!"

"Good, cuz you better hear this!" Stan resumes drawing on the sand. Ford looks down, tilting his head quizically.

"Why are we standing on top of the sun?"

"That's an octopus!" Stan points to the pile of squigly lines Ford thought had been the ocean. "See?"

"That's still kinda impossible."

"Aw, shuddap!" Stan scoffs playfully, then proceeds to draw fish tails with long noses and circle ends.  "Of course its possible! This is after I killed it, and we're doin' a victory cheer on top of it!" Stan pumps his fist in the air, and begins chanting, echoing loud across the alcove: "PINES! PINES! PINES! And after—"

"Wait, how did we kill it?"

"I beat it up, duh!"

"What did I do?"

Stan huffs. "You math, science and bored it to death, you big nerd," he says with an annoyed expression, which quickly gives away to snickers as he dodges the fistful of sand Ford throws in his direction, leaving a grainy cloud in its wake. Stan points back at his drawing, at the long nosed fish with lines protruding off the top. Until Ford blinks, and tilts his head again, realizing that the messy scribbles are probably meant to be... "Anyway, after we totally beat this giant octopus monster, all the mermaid babes will be all over us! They'd give us kisses, and hugs, and and–"

Covering his mouth with his hand, Ford snorts loudly. "Stanley... you want to kiss fish ladies?"

An offended look crosses Stan's face, and if it wasn't for the sunburn already staining his and Ford's skin an angry, blistering red, Ford could swear Stan was blushing, his cheeks puffing, brown eyes wide and fists clenching. Cute, Ford thinks, so quickly, he almost doesn't catch it.

But he does.

Just like how his shoulder catches Stan's fists, sending him to more fits of giggling as he goes down.

"Shaddup, shaddup, shut uuuuuuuup," Stan continues his playful assault, clearly trying to not to smile, but Ford's laughter catches him like the infectious bug that went around school three months ago, and his grin stretches wild as he pushes Ford to the ground, and planting himself on Ford's short legs. Ford's hand land on his shoulders, trying and obviously failing at pushing off his stronger brother with all his twelve fingered might, but maybe it's because Ford is laughing too much he's out of breath, chest shaking while he heaves his giggles. Maybe it's the weird but nice heaviness Stan is forcing on him, and Ford counts that as the fifth time this day Stan made him feel that: 'weird but nice.'

Yesterday was seven whole times.

"Get off me, jerk!"

"You're the jerk," Stan argues, catching Ford's hands and pinning them down to the sand, grinning at Ford who's completely caught under him. "You've been making fun of me the whole time!"

"No I wasn't! I think it's cool you wanna kiss fish ladies!"

"They're not fish ladies, Sixer! They're mermaids!" Stan argues, looking a lot like Ford when he exasperatedly explains that solving the daily crossword on the newspaper is not lame, just with the additional large gap between his teeth, bandage on his face, cute puffy cheeks, which almost sends Ford to another laughing fit. "Mermaids are cool! No, they're hot!"

"If you say so," Ford shrugs, feeling the soft grains of sand move against his back. "They'd smell like fish though, but I think you would like that."

"Pfff," Stan lets go and straightens up to blow a raspberry, tilting himself to flop onto the sand next to Ford, moving so his fingers brushed Ford's when at their hips. Sixth. "Like you're any different. I bet you have a lot of weird stuff you wanna kiss too. You're obsessed with your ano– anama—"

"Anamolies."

"Aliens. I bet you wanna kiss aliens."

"No I don't!"

"Yeah, you do!"

"I don't," Ford insists, but he's definitely thought about it. Not in a weird way, of course. He wonders about kissing a lot of things, like growing boys do, like the health developmental sections of science books say so! Girls. Boys sometimes.

Boys most of the time.

A boy, most of the time.

"If you say so," Stan repeats dismissively, stretching his arms over his head while Ford watches behind his glasses. Feeling the sand starting to get to that 'pointy, sticky and annoying' state when someone lays on it, he sits up, eyes landing on the Stan O' War again. Stan follows, quickly sitting up.

"What'cha thinking of?"

"Just wondering the capability of weight distribution on the boat."

"Uh...."

"I wonder if it's actually strong enough to hold us up to sail. We're gonna have to fix that up before we take it to the water, remember? Maybe it's not even built for two people."

The last part came out of his mouth without thinking, and Ford is alarmed with the quick moment of doubt. For a second, their dream seemed a little impossible.

Stan pushes himself up, and runs to the stationed boat.

"Stan? What are you—"

"Keep up, Sixer!" Stan exclaims, grabbing onto the ledge of the boat, and suddenly Ford is running after his brother. All caution thrown out of his system when Stan lifts himself over the edge and on top of the boat's deck effortlessly.

"Stan!"

"Look, Ford, it's fine!" Stan exclaims, arms spread wide and standing victoriously. Ford grabs hold of the ledge, and tries to lift his legs over, only to almost fall off with a "Whoa!"— until Stan's hand latches onto his.

"Hold on," Stan tugs until Ford's body lifts high enough for him to wrap his arms around Ford's shoulders. He grunts, pulling the rest of his twin's body with all his strength before falling onto the deck, Ford landing on top of his legs.

Somehow, they find themselves almost exactly as before, just in reverse, skin still grainy and sticky and hot-red, Ford's chest shaking again but this time it's from panting in the short burst of physical activity. His face close to Stan's, Ford feels a bubbling in his chest, a little tingle all over his skin. One he wants to blame on the summer heat still simmering outside the cave or maybe the sunburn all over his back and torso, but it's not that.

Seventh.

"You're kinda heavy for a stick, Sixer."

Ford punches his shoulder this time, smirking. "Shut up, jerk."

"Now you hate it," Stan comes back smugly, then glances down at the deck. "Hey, look! It can hold the both of us after all!"

Remembering his previous concerns, he looks down on the boat, then raps his knuckles onto the floorboards. It's actually pretty sturdy for how old Ford theorized it to be. That's pretty cool.

"Guess we can cross that out of the stuff we have to fix up," Ford concludes. He pushes his glasses over his nose, thinking deeply again. "Still have a lot of stuff to consider though. Plus, who knows how much bigger we'll get too..." He muses, mostly to himself.

So many to consider... Ford doesn't think even his freakish hands could count all the ways it could go right, or wrong, if it goes anywhere at all... it's kind of big, and open, and Ford thinks it's almost like the ocean itself.

"Eh, don't worry about that stuff so much, Sixer," Stan shrugs, his voice breakjng through Ford's train of thought. Ford realizes he's still very much on Stanley's legs, and maybe it's because all the running, pushing, wrestling they've done all day that completely wrung him out, or maybe it's because the warm bubbling in his chest that overflows and keeps his own legs stuck like sap, but unlike Stan, Ford can't bring himself to move off, move away from Stan. His brown eyes wide, grin with a goofy gap in the teeth and cheeks puffing, Stan looks ready to sail off right then and there.

"As long as you've got me, we can do everything. We're getting out of this place no matter what."

Ford smiles warmly. Somehow he could never get tired doing that around his brother and that's weird. It's nice. His hands find Stan's shoulders, and without thinking, he blurts out:

"Stanley... It wasn't aliens."

"Wait, wha—"

And Ford presses his lips to Stan's. He doesn't really know how to do this. It's kinda gross, with Stan tasting like sand and sweat from rolling around it all day, but so did Ford and getting past that, it just feels good. Almost on instinct, he pulls away panic rising at throat, because Oh no, Stan will think I'm a freak too.

But Stan leans forward too, almost knocking Ford's glasses away and also not knowing what he's doing, but it feels nice. Really, really nice.

Eighth.

Ford thinks he could stay counting those forever.

~~

If you like this send another prompt or a prompt of your own! Hope you liked this anons, be it sufficiently fluffy enough lmao

[intimacyequalsdeath]

Bubz's Slasher Fictober Apple Crumble NSFW Alphabets Day 17: Jack Torrance

Day 17 is here! Not much to say today besides the usual thank yous and such so I'll keep this nice and short and hope you all enjoy!.

Notes: Minors DNI, NSFW, Smut.

A is for Aftercare (What they're like after sex):

He'll get up to run you a bath but fully expect him to go back to bed, He'll clean you up or at least help you if you ask but he also likes to just let you handle it by yourself and relax in the bath for a while.

B is for Body Part (Favorite on them and their partner):

He'd pick his brain as his favorite body part, but he doesn't wanna seem cocky or cliché so if he had to pick another one it would probably be his arms (The gif is exhibit A) he's strong and he knows it and it's something he's proud of.

On you he likes your eyes, you're his muse when it comes to his writing and getting inspiration and he always tells you how he finds no greater inspiration then when he looks into your eyes.

C is for Cum (Anything to do with cum):

He doesn't want anymore kids, like at all so never inside though if you don't have the proper equipment or just have no risk to getting pregnant he'll think about it. He does particularly like your stomach or thighs but he'll really do it anywhere just not inside you.

D is for Dirty Secret:

He wants to show you off, let you flirt with other men, only for him to swoop in at the last second and lay claim to you. The fact that your his and only his turns his sex drive up to 100.

E is for Experience (How experienced are they?):

He was married once before you so he has a good amount of experience. I can't see him having crazy amounts though like maybe before his wife only having a couple other serious girlfriends.

F is for Favorite Position:

He likes anything really, from standing up missionary so he can fuck you against a random door in the hotel, to having you bent over the front desk of the hotel lobby where anyone could see.

G is for Goofy (How serious are they?):

Never. Not even a smile or laugh. He acts like having sex with you is the single most important thing in the entire world.

H is for Hair (How well groomed are they?):

He keeps himself pretty well groomed. I mean at the Stanley hotel he really has all the time in the world to keep himself neat and tidy.

I is for Intimacy (How are they during the act, romantic etc):

Very romantic, like I said before this man acts as if it's a life or death situation. He's gonna give you the best time of your life each and every time you fuck. Not that he would let you but he wants to ensure that you never leave him or the hotel.

J is for Jackoff (Do they masturbate and how often?):

He doesn't really jackoff ever. He doesn't really enjoy it that much to be honest. Plus him and you are stuck in the hotel together, why would he finish himself off when your ready and willing and have no where else to be.

K is for Kink (Their kinks):

Heavy on the daddy kink, no matter how big or small the age gap is between the two of you he's your daddy and he expects to be called as such. He'll call you his baby or anything else your little heart desires.

He's also really into predator and prey. Run around the hotel and hide, let him find you. If you wanna be a brat do that too it only works him up more. The more you work him up the harder the fucking when he finally finds you (or you let yourself be found)

L is for Location (Favorite places to have sex):

Anywhere, literally anywhere. You have an ENTIRE hotel just to yourselves. Every couch, every bed, every available surface in the entire building is his favorite.

M is for Motivation (What turns them on?):

Like I mentioned earlier he really likes your eyes, so if you ever want to really get him going just shoot him a look. He'll instantly be all over you.

N is for No (Something they won't do):

There isn't much he won't do and he's a pretty sleazy guy normally but don't let that fool you. He'd NEVER hit you or hurt you like that even during sex. He just think it ruins the entire mood and doesn't like the thought of actually hurting you.

O is for Oral (Oral Preferences):

He really likes receiving, it makes him feel like a king, but he also really likes giving too. I mean it is his after all why wouldn't he wanna service it.

P is for Pace (How fast or slow? Are they rough?):

A nice in-between medium pace. He doesn't like going too fast but he also doesn't wanna go at a snails pace either. He's rough though, like I said earlier not to the point of hurting you rough, but there's nothing soft about Jack Torrance.

Q is for Quickie ( Do they like quickies?):

Sex is sex to Jack. He'll be down for quickies if you are. He's been a ghost for decades babe, this man is down to fuck.

R is for Risk (Are they down to experiment?):

I feel like Jack would be very open to experiment and try new things, not to sound like a broken record but this man has nothing but time. He'd bring up some things he'd like to try and if you do to then the more the merrier.

S if for Stamina (How long can they go for?):

Do ghosts get tired? If they can it definitely doesn't seem like it. Jack can go for however long he feels like really. He'll only stop if you get too tired but don't be fooled, he has unlimited stamina.

T is for Toys (Do they use toys and do they like them?):

With toys Jack is a bit old fashioned. He doesn't really see the appeal of all the rubber and latex but if your into toys he is too. If that's what gets you off he's all for it and ready to go.

U if for Unfair (Do they like to tease?):

Jack is the biggest tease ever. If you aren't ready to weather through it then maybe he isn't for you. He teases the fuck out of his partner and also has the tendency to get kinda mean. Like mentioned earlier he would never physically hurt you but that doesn't mean your safe from him entirely.

V is for Volume (How loud can they get?):

Jack gets loud but not with moans or whines. He likes to talk to you during sex. Talk you through things and tell you his commands for what you need to do to get him off. Since no one else is around in the hotel he tends to do everything but yell these commands.

W is for Wild Card (Random things):

His favorite place that you've ever had sex that's also only happened once was outside of the hotel watching the sunset. It was a warmer night nearly to spring when you sprung the idea and he absolutely adored it.

X is for X-Ray (What are they packing):

A good 5 to 6 inches. He's not the biggest ever but he knows what to do with what he's got to get the job done.

Y is for Yearning (How high is their sex drive?):

Through the roof, I mean like was mentioned earlier. The two of you are literally stuck in a hotel alone together. He is essentially horny 24/7 and is always ready to take you.

Z is for ZZZ (How fast do they fall asleep?):

Like I said he'll clean you up from time to time and maybe run you a bath if you ask but while your in the bath he'll probably pass out. So don't be shocked if you come back to bed and he's already asleep.

[cicaklah]

my girl @ronniebox tagged me and so here we go!

Rules: List ten books that have stayed with you in some way, don’t  take but a few minutes, and don’t think too hard - they don’t have to  be the “right” or “great” works, just the ones that have touched you.

Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman - my mother gave me this book to read when I was maybe 11, it was her copy that she had bought when Pratchett came and gave a reading at our local library in like, 1992. I'd say no book has been more formative to me, but in writing this I don't think thats true.

The City and the City by China Mieville - I got into Mieville through my girl @crimeandcricket, and was horribly traumatised by the body horror in perdido street station, and was way too influenced by his often pretentious writing style, but the city and the city is a masterpiece I'll never recover fully from and changed me for the better.

The Children's Hospital by Chris Adrian - I'm fairly sure no one but me loves this book, but it is also a book that multiple people stopped me when I was reading in public just from the cover image. My favourite kind of book is a book that can only be written by one person, and Adrian is a theologian and paediatrician, and this book uses every single one of his hyperfixations and also made me cry more than anything else.

The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster - Actually, this book probably did more to calcify my sense of humour than Pratchett did. The smartest, funniest, coolest children's book ever, and this has reminded me to get the tattoo of Tock on my wrist.

Ballet Shoes by Noel Streatfield - I read this every christmas morning as a treat to myself. I also adore White Boots, the ice skating book, but Ballet Shoes is such a perfect gem of a story that is the favourite of my grandmother, my mother and myself.

Shabanu/Daughter of the Wind by Suzanne Fisher Staples - The first book that made me cry, inspired my fondness for camels and was probably my first feminist awakening? I've only read one of the sequels, but it was so brutal I still haven't emotionally recovered entirely.

The Amateur Cracksman by E. W Hornung - my mastermind specialist subject, a book that consumed me across time and space, Raffles my beloved, Bunny my beloved, I remember the moment I read the first story and my life changed literally forever. The Black Mask and A Thief In The Night are also obviously amazing and really all three should be considered one book, but something in my life changed for the better when I read the line 'AJ Raffles would be my friend!' in The Ides of March and I realised oh no, they're mine now.

Exhalation by Ted Chiang - very hard for me to choose a Ted Chiang story so thankfully I will pick his second collection, which has The Life Cycle of Software Objects and also the one about the parrots. It does not have Hell is the Absence of God or stories of your life, but tbh, software objects was the first of his stories I ever read, so it deserves to be here, even if it guts me like a fish every time.

Rivals by Jilly Cooper - if I could have anyone's writing career, it would be Jilly Cooper's. Everytime I read this insane soap opera of a book it holds me hostage until I finish it, and its like 700 pages long. The most wonderfully 80s OTT sex farce about horrible people trying to buy an ITV franchise. I genuinely can't believe that disney plus are making it into a series.

The Years of Rice and Salt by Kim Stanley Robinson - One of his least famous books and yet I think his best? I had read the Mars books several times before I picked this up, but this alternate history where 90% of Europe are killed by the black death, following how world history changes through the eyes of characters who reincarnate but always find each other, somehow??? it grabbed me by the throat and never let go.

tell me YOUR formative texts pls @crimeandcricket @deputychairman @myth-blossom @skylightpirate @stickthisbig @apricotbones @postalninja @cajunandfire @within-infant-rind

[doggirlhen]

i just finished spiritfarer, actually properly finished. its impossible for me to talk about this game purely subjective bc its so. close to me. and my lived experience. putting this big long thing under a keep reading, warnings for discussion of death and whatnot as thats the prominent theme of the game, and spoilers for the game probably

please excuse the messy, rambly writing, im very tired and very very emotional about this sad boat game and just need to get my thoughts about it down before i go crazy

impossible to not cry at the end. i bought this game around 2019 on my switch, fresh after two or three big familial deaths. picked it up here and there but could never get myself to the end, either being to busy or it being too much for me. i finally found some time now, after owning it on PC for a year or two, to sit down and let myself experience it.

this game treats the passing of loved ones with such respect and care and the grief that follows so beautifully. even the characters i didnt much care for i felt heavily about when it was their turn through the everdoor. it blends this grief with gameplay mechanics so well, and doesnt ever let you forget those close to you. almost every character either has a resource you can collect because of them, their spirit still there when you need more of it, or theyre the ones who had you build the crafting station to make materials and youre reminded of them when you step in the door. i found myself making sure i had everyones favorite foods stocked in my inventory well past their exit. and to really hammer it in, everyone gets their profile marked in the stars when theyre gone.

stella's job is to take care of people, but shes always felt like a vessel-type character to me, as ive had my dealings with the loss of loved ones and those around me and found it incredibly easy to wear her shoes.

moments that really stood out to me were atul not letting you take him through, you just find his flower on its own. so heavily touched me, a man whos only ever cared for you not letting you see his struggles because he knew thats all youd devote yourself too. stanley, letting the weird kid take it the only way a kid could, curious but scared but you were holding his hand. i cant even begin to talk about daria, shes new to me and i can only hope no one can relate to her story but feel for her just the same. gwen, god i could go on about gwen. all the characters feel so lively, so real, all dealing with whats ending them as best they can.

the one that got me the most, though, was astrid. my grandmother on my moms side passed in 2019, so already getting me with a grandmother character but astrids story and motivations remind me so much of her and one of her lines at the everdoor, "dont forget me or i'll haunt you" sounds exactly like somehting my grandmother would say. tears pouring out of my eyes only beat by the end of the game as a whole. such a beautiful story

and beautiful game, too. breaking from the sad stuff for a bit to say the art and music are so beautfully crafted and touching, every character design and choice of animal so perfectly selected. look at darias profile how can you not fall in love immediately. look at her :3

just. please play this game if you have any sort of feelings about grief and loss. its touched my heart several times in the years since 2016 after lots of familial death and covid. its a bunch of different games at once, largely a resource management and crafting game but the story is so well written and the visuals are beautiful and im soon to buy the soundtrack because i always need it with me

this game means so much to me and will forever be on my mind, one million thank yous and tears to thunder lotus games and everyone involved.