#Narry I'm staring at you

[ozym4ndi4s]

Barry, Shigeru and Yuzuki are easily one of the best trios ever

[flickerbuckley]

I'm back with an absolutely stunning fic rec because I just finished reading You Can Hear It In The Silence by @imogenleewriter and OH MY GOD I literally had to stare at a wall for half an hour after I finished it since it was 234k of utter gorgeous-ness and any way I describe it cannot do it the justice it very rightly deserves. Nevertheless I shall try!! So here are some of the notes I made :)

“Promise?” He asked. THIS WAS WHEN I KNEW I WAS READING A CHEF'S KISS FIC

“Yeah,” she said as if it was as straightforward as the sky being blue or the grass being green. I'm not sure if this was a delibrate nod to bluegreening but either way my compliments to the chef

Louis 😭 got 😭 Harry 😭 vegetarian 😭 laksa 😭 because 😭 that's 😭 his 😭 favourite 😭

THE STUDY SUMMARY CONVERSATION??? HELLO??? AUTHOR I AM IN VISIBLE DISTRESS

"It's just a new addition to our menu." Oh when I tell you the scream I scrumpt

THE LOUIS AND ANNE TALK I'M IN TEARS

The fact that there was so much pining even though they were basically together??? Unreal

THE CAT SALT AND PEPPER SHAKERS!!! THE IMAGERY IS NEXT LEVEL

"This is… Like we… It's over, isn't it?" 😭😭😭 Author I am drowing in my own tears I cannot believe you're doing this to me

THEM CRYING WHILST THEY KISSED PRE NEW YEAR'S BECAUSE THEY THINK IT'S OVER FOR THEM *DISTRESS BECOMES VISIBLER*

Louis looked so devastatingly beautiful?? They were both puffing out shaky breaths?? Louis gave a slight nod as if to teLL HARRY IT WAS OKAY TO GO?? THERE WAS NO NEED FOR THE BOLLYWOOD YEH JAWAANI HAI DEEWANI STYLE IMAGERY THIS INVOKED!!! I AM ON THE FLOOR

Them!! Calling!! Each!! Other!! Baby!! And!! Love!! One!! Last!! Time!! *goes feral*

Let's just gloss over Harry leaving please and thank you I'm not emotionally stable enough for that

The Narry talk in the car actually destroyed me I can't lie

Harry being brave with Liam and Zayn!! Yes you go bby I'm so proud of you!!

The fact that I'm crying over there being museli in the fridge really says a lot about me as a person

Louis choosing to work on himself!! That is *so* important to me!!

Harry ended his text with an x :(

I have fourty-nine years to change your mind 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Author WHY AM I GETTING EMOTIONAL OVER MEDICAL HISTORY WTF

Where can I find someone to buy glasses for me??? Or my contact lens prescription if they don't think I look cute in glasses (although what's the point then)

🗣 HE 🗣 KEPT 🗣 THE 🗣VOUCHER

Harry's birthday 🙁

What is it with these two idiots and using each other's bath products I swear to god

LOUIS WANTS TO STUDY 🥲🥲🥲 MY BBY I'M SO PROUD

“Is it possible for it to have a happy ending?” *flips a table*

[ohfools]

[take] kalifa and lucci 😩

   kalifa was no stranger to having to flirt to get information. it was actually one of the many skills she excelled in. honeypot missions were her specialty. but she loathed them with every fiber of her being. she constantly had to fight the urge to scoff and roll her eyes when inferior men and women dared to think they had an actual shot with her. despite her distaste for the tactic, kalifa carried out her duties with narry a complaint.

   which is what has her sitting on the lap of some rich politician at a private club for the social and political elite of the small island in the grandline. she smiled sweetly despite wanting to smack the man's hands away from her waist and fought back the bile in her throat as his breath washed over her when he pinched her cheek. she was a good agent, an obedient soldier. kalifa turned her face away as the man pursed his lips again the collum of her throat, catching the eye of lucci across the smoke filled room. her face, which was forced in neutrality, had morphed into a pleading pout briefly before returning to it's previous state.

   for the rest of the evening she could feel feline eyes on her, predatory and piercing as the hair on the back of her neck prickled. it felt exhilarating and she had to double her efforts to listen to the conversation the men around her were having as they paid no mind to her. fools. overlooking a woman, a stranger simply because they thought her nothing more than a doll to play with. men were always such predictable creatures.

   all except one.

   kalifa has excused herself to the bathroom, getting up with no protests from the circle of men. some even forgot she was there to begin with, except for her companion for the night who gave her ass a firm slap, but said nothing. she steeled herself as she walked away, avoiding the urge to kick the man in the head. she had a job to do still.

   she was shaking with anger when she entered the single person bathroom, forgetting to lock the door as she rushed to spit up in the sink, turning the faucet on and cupping her hand to bring some water to her lips to drink deeply. kalifa didn't have much time to enjoy the brief reprieve before she heard the door click open. shit. she froze, holding her breath until she saw rob enter in the mirror's reflection.

   she noticed @foremyth turn the lock shut and opened her mouth to thank him, but before she could she was spun around as he invaded her personal space. she didn't have time to protest, not that she would have, before his mouth was on hers and his hands gripped her hips with bruising force. she whimpered against his lips and his tongue invaded her mouth as it parted with the sound. kalifa submitted easily, arms wrapped around his neck as he kissed her breath away.

   “lucci,” she gasped when he finally pulled away to let her breathe. she stared into his eyes and nearly cowered under his gaze, knees wobbled slightly as her held on tight to his shoulders. “i'm yours,” she whispered reassuringly. it didn't take a genius to realize he was jealous and she was well trained in human behavior. “i don't want anyone else.”

   you have ruined me for all other men, rob lucci.

[mxsamwood]

Escape Pod Aftermath // The Stanley Parable

Once they were able to escape the Parable, they got out of the pod as the light shines onto their faces. It was sunny. The birds were chirping, the flowers were blooming, the sound of the river flowing... And Stanley stood there, taking it all in as he smile. He turned his head around to look at Narrator, who was beside him in awe as he kept staring at the beauty of nature. Stanley kept his gaze at Narrator for a moment, admiring how pretty he looks as the sun shine on his face. He might've been happy to see Narrator this way. They finally escaped the Parable after all.

Stanley looked down at the grass as he saw multiple yellow flowers while the wind blew through them. Stanley crouched down, taking a few more seconds to stare at the beautiful yellow flowers before plucking a few of them out of the ground.

He turned his head to Narrator, who was now staring down at Stanley as Stanley smiled warmly at him. "[Here, Narry. These flowers reminds me of you.]" His eyes narrowed a little as he then give the yellow flowers to Narrator with his head slightly tilted to the side while he smiled brightly.

Narrator let out a quiet gasp as his eyes widened, he even blushed a bit before his gaze soften as he begin to smile softly at Stanley. "Oh, Stanley. You're just so adorable sometimes. Thank you. But.. Stanley... You have to know something..."

Stanley tilted his head, gazing at Narrator with a warm smile as he placed his hand on Narrator's cheek, caressing it. "[What is it, Narry? Whatever it is, you can tell me anything. I'm here to listen, amore..]"

He leaned in closer to Narrator's face as his gaze kept on his eyes before Narrator said something that he thought he would never hear. "...Please forget me, Stanley. I'm no longer here for you after all."

Stanley's smile dropped as he quickly opened his eyes and saw that no one was there, he was laying on the grass, as everything suddenly went gloomy and grey. Even the sky looks bland, as if everything looks dead but it wasn't at the same time. Right, Stanley forgot he escaped the Parable alone without bringing Narrator with him.

"[... How stupid of me.]" He thought to himself as he stood up and clenched his fists with the flowers that were still in his hand while he stared down at the grass as he gritted his teeth. He couldn't believe himself. He was the one that was trapped in the Parable. He deserve to have his freedom.

But... Was it all worth it? Did he do the right thing? Does it... Matter now? "[Stupid, stupid Stanley]!" He continued to degraded himself as he hit his head multiple times, as if he didn't want to be alone nor wanted to leave Narrator in the Parable.

But what could he do? There was only one pod left in the Parable. One of them ought to escape anyways. Stanley took a moment to calm himself down as he lifted his head and looked at the sky.

Why was the sky so grey? Has it always been like that? It was a light blue sky just a moment ago, why has it changed now? Was it because it was just a dream? Or... Was It because Narrator is no longer here with him? Is that how lonely he felt?

Stanley felt so damn pissed off about it as it feels like he wanted to scream, hoping someone, or anyone at this point, could hear him. He didn't want to be alone but here he is, in a middle of nowhere where there's no roads, no city, no living things as there's just a bunch of trees, rocks, flowers or whatever nature he was brought to see.

At the last moment, he quickly turned around and run. He ran as fast as he could to go back to that damn pod, hoping he could fix it and find a way to go back to the Parable, if it was possible.

He kept running and running as the day set to night, he was losing a lot of his breath before he tripped over a rock and fell face planted onto the grass. He stayed on the ground, trembling as he whimpered quietly while grabbing the grass firmly.

Stanley was helpless, weak, afraid even. He wanted to go back. He wanted to see his Narrator again. He didn't want to be alone nor have this kind of freedom. He wanted to enjoy it with the people he love.

But how can he do that? All he's doing now is laying on the grass, crying his eyes out as he tried wiping his tears away but he couldn't stop sobbing. He wanted to be free, but not this way. He feel so trap. It feels like the skip button all over again.

He stayed there for hours as it was completely dark while hearing the cricket all night long. He felt helpless, he didn't even want to move at all. He rather die than have this lonely feeling inside of him. It feels like it's eating him up in the inside, just slowly for now.

He then fell asleep after crying for hours while rethinking his choices about leaving the Parable. It was a mistake and yet, he couldn't bare thinking how Narrator would've feel after he escaped. The thought of it broke his heart, he can feel himself tearing up again as it seems like he didn't even want to think about it at the moment.

So, he slowly drifted off to sleep... He slept on the ground, feeling hopeless and waited until he can continue the next day despite not knowing how to deal with this new world he's in now. But he'll figure out eventually... After all, how hard can it be to adjust his new life?

FIN.

[troolyart]

Entity AU pt 1.

[How long?] Stanley asked. The Narrator looks at him through those damned yellow lenses, the green of his eyes being hidden by more than just the lights in the Zending that they currently are enjoying.

"What do you mean, how long? You really must expound more, Stanley. You can't just ask one simple question if you want a straight answer. How else will I know what you're talking about?"

Stanley just sighs and flops down onto the cool carpet, letting the lights illuminate his face as he stares up at the ceiling. His hands start to move while his face remains eerily blank. [How long have I been here? How many resets has it been, Narrator?]

The lights that have been bouncing around in the dome pause for a split second, almost imperceptible, before they continue as they were. Stanley can hear his companion let out a sigh and mumble to himself, most likely checking through his script for the answer.

"Ah, here it is," the Narrator muses as he fixes his glasses to be higher up on his nose. "It's been around six hundred and thirteen resets at this point. Although some of those weren't even my doing, I'll have you know."

There's a shuffling to his left before a small thump sounds next to his head and a warm, soft hand lands on top of his forehead.

"Stanley, I can tell something is bothering you. Why else would you ask me this out of the blue? You can tell me anything, honestly you can."

Stanley finds it in himself to sign again. [How long were you trapped here...before you changed?]

The hand atop his forehead jolts a bit before it calms down, a thumb creasing the worry lines Stanley's accrued over the years to try and smooth them out some. The office worker's eyes meet his Narrator's, green pools that appear haunted despite the colorful atmosphere. Stanley can't blame him for that; all of the years he's told him about, trapped with nothing but his own voice until the Parable decided to take pity on him must have been hell.

The hand leaves his head and the Narrator sighs heavily, his voice still present as a groan in the air that leaves him, as if he cannot be silent in any way. "Ohhh, I don't know, Stanley. It could have been years or three days outside of this place, but inside it...it felt like a millennium."

The Narrator turns his head to look at the man next to him, and Stanley does the same. "What brought this on?"

He can't help but flinch ever so slightly as he finally sits back up, knees drawing close to his chest. Stanley can't look at him when he asks this. Hell, signing might be difficult given that his hands are starting to shake.

He manages a shaky [Can't] before turning away. The hand is back, this time on his shoulder, pulling as if begging him to turn back around. It's still warm. Alive. Real.

"Stanley, please...talk to me? You're starting to frighten me a bit. What's troubling you so— good god, your hands are trembling. Stanley??"

Stanley buries his head into his knees and projects his thoughts to his companion, something he hasn't done in a long time given how much he prefers to sign in person.

"How long do I have until I forget who I am, Narry? Until I don't remember I'm human?"

It's quiet in the dome. Too quiet for how much his Narrator likes to talk. The last time it was so quiet was when Narrator became upset with him and left him alone for an hour or two. Probably the worst two hours he can recall. Oh god, why isn't he saying anything? Did I say something wrong? Is he upset about what I asked? His thoughts start to spiral and he can't even hope to know if he shut off that link to him and the Narrator.

Suddenly, the warmth on his shoulder moves to encompass him, pressing into his back, his sides, everywhere arms can reach. Soft hair tickles the side of his neck and a shiver runs through him as warm breath hits his skin. The Narrators voice comes to him soft but firm, as firm as the arms around him, directly into his ear.

"I wouldn't let that happen, Stanley. Ever. Not to you."

Stanley can't remember the last time he cried outside of the Parable. He's cried plenty inside it, though, usually after the discovery of a new ending that brings the both of them nothing but grief. He's crying now. Stanley is certain that the Narrator can feel the tears falling from his face onto the man's hands. One of those hands cradles his face and tries to pull it out of the nook his knees have made. He obliges and looks back into thoes green eyes, now also beginning to tear up.

"I will not let you forget, Stanley."

The office worker pulls away a little bit, takes the Narrators hands in his, and leans forward to touch foreheads with the man. His thoughts stop their spiralling enough to try and get his thoughts across. "But what if that doesn't work? If I'm too far gone, then—"

"Then I will remind you as often as you need me to," he interjects. "As often as I think I should, even if you're completely fine. Your name is Stanley. You're human. You are real."

A small smile starts to creep along Stanley's face as he takes in those words. "I'm real. My name is Stanley. My name is Stanley and my coworkers are missing."

The Narrator let's out a chuckle at his thought, the sound reverberating in Stanley's head as their foreheads still touch. It's so real. He's real. His Narrator.

"Ah yes, your coworkers are still missing aren't they? And yet here we are dillydallying in this room. Oh well, they can wait can't they?"

Stanley let's out a chortle at that with his companion following suit. God, this felt right. All that worrying about what could happen to him while the whole time he has his Narrator to look out for him. And he'll do the same for his friend. No...friend didn't quite fit their relationship.

He's so close. Not even inches apart, the Narrator is basically in his lap at this point. His lips are right there...he could just...

So he does.

Stanley's always been an impulsive protagonist, always diving headfirst, logic be damned. The kiss is nearly the same, but it becomes more thought out when his Narrator leans into it. Where he should place his hands becomes almost second nature, when to take a moment to breathe through his nose so their lips can press against each other for just another moment.

Stanley pulls back first, the Narrator lingers in his space, eyes half-lidded. The lights in the Zending have all gone pink, which does nothing to hide the blush they both are sporting. Both men smile before Stanley brings his hands back up.

[Thank you, Narry. For reminding me how real I am. And for the kiss.]

The older man grins mischievously. "Oh don't thank me just yet, dear boy. I'm going to be reminding you so much you'll get sick of me after a while."

Stanley quirks and eyebrow before pecking his cheek. [Will that also include kisses every time? Because I might not get sick of that.]

"You'll just have to see won't you," he says as he starts to get up off of Stanley's lap in order to stand. Once up right, he holds out a hand for Stanley to grab. "Ready to reset, darling?"

Stanley takes ahold of his hand and gladly let's himself get pulled along like always. [Ready.]

[degenerate-gremlin-blog]

OK so last night I had a stanley parable dream. I don't remember any of the dream anymore but I do remember this one specific scene. After passing through the (I'm assuming "correct") door, Stanley went to the mind control facility (I don't remember if he passed through any rooms before this as I forgot as stated before) but the facility looked different. Instead of going through the elevator and walking into an area blatantly called the mind control facility (bit on the nose narry), Stanley walk through a hallway where the floor was either a black steel (like in the actual game) or black tile. Or wasn't that at all? Again I don't remember. Anyway, then there's these little small stairs like, two steps. Then you have to go through these large glass doors. The push pull kind you see in stores, banks, and stuff. That's where Stanley saw him. Or rather I saw him. The narrator. He was silhouetted on the right glass door. As depicted in the artistic interpretation above, he was a black shadowy figure. It's hard to see due to how small it is but at the top of his head there's a little dent to signify parted hair. His eyes were a glowy white and large. The only thing that wasn't shadowy was a yellow turtleneck sweater. He doesn't even move or nothing he was just, staring at me. And when I push through the doors, he wasn't there on the other side. Only in the glass and he was gone there too. The mind control facility was dark, the only light was the lights on the ceiling (which didn't illuminate at all despite being on) and the blue light from the computer screens (literally they were all blue screens). The "facility" didn't look like a facility at all it was an office. Like the kind you see in government stuff where the desks and computers, and employees were all next to each other. Once Stanley stepped inside, the large screens on the wall in the front of the room turned on. Like in the original game. Except instead of Stanley's coworkers, it was all Stanley. There was footage of Stanley going through the two doors, rooms, hallways, all while the narrator was mocking him. Laughing and berating Stanley for the choices he made, about his life, letting him know hes been closley watching him and how much of a puppet he truly is. Then the dream ended. It was honestly very creepy and it's not like it was a bad dream either. It's just one of those dreams with a invested story arc. Thought I share it here before I forget this part too and you are free to remake this interpretation in your own style if you'd like. You'll probably give it more justice than I do. (Tldr in the comments).

[bailey-the-narrator]

Introduction: With Kathan

AKA Bailey befriends someone; The Series

Kathan belongs to @jestie-bestie

Bailey is an observer. He’s been one to avoid conflict with his parents and friends since he was a kid. How do people talk? What do they like? What kind of topics need to be avoided? Any body language that is visible to him? Are they friendly enough to be approached?

And so, he’s leaning against the wall as his blue eyes scan the room packed with Narrators. Tall ones, small ones, tiny moths, even giant ones. Gods, supernatural beings, humans, and even machines. There are a lot of figures to be observed by him, yet he focuses on one.

The person looks graceful, walking around the room without skipping a beat, talking with other Narrators as if they’re old friends with him. The clothes that he has looks a lot more formal than his shirt-and-sweater combo, with them having fewer wrinkles, and the suit part does make the look work. The friendly gaze from the other's golden eyes behind a pair of glasses makes the writer unconsciously smile.

God, he wanted to befriend him so badly. He still has his cafe latte thermos to give, but he just doesn't want to give it to him without reason suddenly. Hey, I like you as a friend! Here's coffee! That only works once with Narry…

"Is there something on my face?" And the writer flinches as a smooth voice snaps out of his thought; the same friendly golden eyes now lock their sight on him, now with curiosity in them. The narrator's arms sit calmly behind his back, watching Bailey's movements, waiting for a response.

"I- uh…" Quick! Think of a reason! "I was just…" Staring? Watching? That'll be creepy. "Wait- no, I was just admiring the scenery, that's all!"

There's no single sight of scenery other than a wide variety of Narrators. He fucked up.

The Narrator gives a teasing smile. "I am quite a sight to behold." And the response catches the writer so off-guard he starts sputtering while trying to hide his reddened face. His reaction brings a smile and a slight chuckle to the other, however. "I'm joking, fellow Narrator. I'm sorry if I made you flustered." He extends his hand for a handshake. "My name is Kathan. It's a pleasure meeting you."

Bailey gives a warm smile. That is a nice name. "I'm Bailey." The writer greets back, accepting the hand. "To be honest with you, I was watching the crowd and you caught my eye. Wanted to befriend you from the moment I set my eyes on you there."

Now Kathan lets out a light laugh. "I'd love to!" He pulls his hand away before wrapping his arm around Bailey's shoulder. "Let's be friends, Bailey." And he gives a wink.

Oh my, he can feel butterflies in his stomach go wild.

Bailey gives a slight nod before burying his hand into his pants pocket, pulling out his thermos, and giving it to the other. "I made a hot cafe latte." He smiles. "I'd love to make you a freshly-brewed one if you ever decide to drop by my coffee shop one day."

Kathan lets out a small, excited gasp, gently taking the metal container from the writer. "I appreciate this gift, thank you." He pulls away from the writer, holding the thermos with two hands, staring at it long. "I'll cherish this moment."

"Don't forget to drink that, though. It's made with my personal recipe." The writer jokes light-heartedly. That's true, though. He has tested various ingredients and measurements to ensure this cafe latte was enjoyable for others. This one was specifically made as a token of his friendship, made with his love and passion for the beans picked by local farmers.

"I will, I will." Kathan's eyes soften. "I might check on your coffee shop with my Stanley now. Do you mind leading the way?"

An indescribable happiness slowly swells in his chest, and a spark of excitement brightens up his expression.

Today is a good day.

[shoefullofpudding]

Since I'm not an artist, I'm going to do a writing version of Paratober.

1 Stanley

He walked a thousand miles through these halls, echoes of footsteps etched into his brain. Every twist and turn was just another well-worn path. Fear had turned to boredom, hope faded to complacency. Still what could he do but keep going? The end was never the end. 

2 Bucket

Stanley plopped the bucket on his head. [I am Bucket Man.]

The Narrator sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Not this again. "Stanley that is a expertly crafted narrative prop, not something to shove on your immature noggin!"

[Bucket Man sees his arch-nemesis Captain Party Pooper! It’s Bucket Time!]

"Hey that's my line!" The Narrator yelled.

He watched in horror as Stanley bent down like a bull and kicked each foot. Oh no. The Narrator held his hands up.

"Stanley! Please. Not ag-"

His words were cut off by Stanley barreling the bucket into his side. The Narrator let out a huff of air and fell back.

3. Coward

Stanley hid under his desk. It was safe here. No one would ever get him… But that wasn't true, was it. The Narrator's words would end and the story would restart. *Please make it end. Please make it end please make it end.*

He imagined it did once the darkness of the reset took him. The floating void was the darkness behind his own eyes and once he opened them, Stanley would be in a nice warm bed, staring at the stucco of a blank white ceiling.

He'd turn his head to a window. A tree stood tall and proud bearing apples, or maybe oranges. A squirrel made corkscrews around it's trunk. Stanley yawned and-

Stared at the blinking screen of his office monitor. The Narrator's voice droned on in the background. He took a deep breath and pushed back the fantasy. It was time to play his part.

Fanon 

1 Stanley 

I'll choose the Stanley from my fic I don't dare dream, because dreams burn my tongue. This is a post fic poem he wrote.

My heart split open

Like a seed 

That could no longer

Contain my worth

I am no longer 

A wounded bird

But an angel 

Taking flight

2. Tumblr sexyman

The Narrator is from my fic Home Has Always Been You.

Narry stared at his reflection. The new haircut and the new clothes almost made him feel like himself. But not quite. His body was still frail and skinny, with a face aged beyond its years.

What did Stanley see in him? He wasn't the sweet chubby boy he'd been when they were kids. Nor was he some suave model with chiseled features and effortless muscles.

Maybe he didn't need to be either. Stanley loved him, not his image in the mirror.

3. Puppyboy Stanley

"Bark!"

The Narrator stared at the lab at his feet. "Just how did you turn yourself into a dog, Stanley? The bark command was only supposed to affect your voice!"

Stanley proceeded to run around and tear up random papers. He tried to dig up the carpet, eat 432's pencil sharpener, and the Narrator’s favorite yellow slipper.

"No! Stanley, give it back!"

He yanked at it, which just made Stanley pull harder. Soon, they were in a dire game of tug-of-war, the fate of the Narrator’s footwear hanging in the balance. 

Halfway through, Stanley turned human and spat the item of contention out. He got up and dusted himself off as if nothing happened.

"What? That's it? You aren't going to apologize for destroying my office or ravaging my slipper?"

Stanley shrugged and walked off, leaving the Narrator to sigh and wipe the slipper off with the sleeve of his jacket. 

[darkseraphscorner]

O'Neill started at Neph over the interrogation cells table. "Where are they?" He asked coldly.

Neph placed her cuffed hands on the table. "As I said to your jack booted thugs, thanks for the black eye by the way, I don't know." She stares back defiantly, her left eye swollen shut behind her now cracked glasses.

O'Neill took a puff of his cigar and leans on the table. "I ain't buying that, something has been sabotaging company property, first the Synths, now Science Officer Ryan's shuttle, and we both know only one thing in this station has a reason to hate the company, your father's pet Xenomorph, so I'm asking again, where are they?"

Neph leans back on her chair. "And I said I don't know, Faraway is a big station, plenty of air vents to hide in, you could be looking for years and never find them."

Snarling, O'Neill stood up and went to the door. "Shove her in iso, maybe that will lose her lips." As he stepped to the door, there was a flicker and the lights went out before the emergency red lights kicked in. "What the fuck was that?" O'Neill screamed as his security marshals came into the cell to grab Neph.

The teen smirked. "I think you are gonna have bigger problems on your hands."

Bio division.

Ryan snapped up from the computer he was working on as the power switched to emergency. "Curious." He mused. "Our Sabatier has stepped up their game, to what end...."

Meanwhile above the Soldier Xenomorphs containment cell, Xeno had spent the last week slowly stripping away the armoured metal shell that protected the cells independent air cycling unit, worming her way in till she was over the harness hold her sister in place, with narry a noise, Xeno slid her bladed tail along her palm, squeezing out drops of virulent acid onto the soldiers metal harness.

The soldier hissed as her restrains where slowly eaten away, before bucking and tearing herself free, the Synths in her cell quickly raised their weapons before Ryan countermanded them. "The acid blood!" He shouts. "We are too close to the hull, it could cause decompression!"

The moment of hesitation was all the soldier needed, her tail lashing out and tearing one synth in two as she jumped at another, her inner mouth crushing through artificial flesh and metal skull to destroy the computer mind with in.

The other two Synths jumped her, trying to restrain her but she was stronger and more flexible than them, quickly reducing them to a pile of milky white body parts before leaping to the roof of her cell and tearing it open, vanishing up into the ceiling.

There was a dull whump as power was restored, Ryan left staring at the devastation left behind. "Well, things have gotten more interesting...."

[strike-team-solaris-4]

@lady-sanguinius

Delavange took point, shield raised and sword now drawn for any threat that may leap at them from the darkness. Phryd follows, phobos armour making narry a noise as he creeps along with his suppressed bolter at the ready. Halghar follows, much more at ease than his companions, walking along behind them using his staff as a walking stick and trusting in his ironkyn compatriot to watch the rear.

"Lifesigns: Detected." The vaguely feminine voice of the ironkyn chirps out, her legs retracting as she takes to the air on a deploying anti-grav pontoon. "They seem to be in stasis." She adds, voice becoming less stilted as her voice box warms back up.

"There are many relics and ghosts from the past here," Delavange says lowly, "some to be recovered, others destroyed..."

"We are here for the nullifier bombs," Phryd responds, drifting over to survey the tables, "we have no time for anything else."

"By me skienkeeper's beard, what about her?" Halhgar says, gesturing to the statuesque, winged woman on the raised stasis dias. "I'm a bit spotty on your mythology or history or whatever you call it, but she looks a tad familiar, don't she?" All eyes turn to the dias, and stared for a long time.

"...Heresy!" Delavange hisses. "The soulless monsters make a mockery of the great angel."

"Facinating," comes Phryd's reply, as he begins looking for a console to interact with. "Perhaps this an exception worth investigating."

"Are you mad, Astartes?" Delavange says with a disbelieving expression. "If we release that thing who knows the damage it could cause, especially if it gets off world."

"Necrons do not take half measures," he replies, beginning his work, "if it thinks it is the Angel, it should see us as friend. You two look for the nullifiers, I'll get this down so we can investigate further. "

"No half measures indeed," Halghar interjects. "She looks to have received full attention exactly where needed." He chortles as Delavange glares daggers under her helmet at him.

"That was improper." The Ironkyn replies plainly, prompting Halghar to chuckle more, but quietly apologize.

"This is a bad idea..." Delavange murmurs as she joins Halghar in the search while Phryd hacks the console. After a moment of terse silence the console chimes, the room illuminates, and a little more time and tinkering later, the barrier surrounding the supposed primarch begins to fall.

"Are you sure this is the place?" Sister Delavange says lowly, shield raised to cover the Raven Guard, bolt carbine at the ready.

"Coalition command said the room with the nehehbu rune, usually indicates high value or strategic storage," Brother Phryd murmurs as he continues to work with the bizzare necron locking system with a piece of wraithbone technology. "No reason doubt them. I am unfamiliar with both necron and eldar technology, so this may take time."

"It could've been helpful if they gave us a colour." Halhgar grumbles. "We've passed seven rooms with that exact symbol. If we have to backtrack to find what we're looking for I'm just going te start blastin' doors in."

"If you rouse the Necrons with your sorcery, witch..."

"Please," The Raven Guard interjects with his usual measured tone, "still yourselves, both of you, I'm trying to focus. Just a bit..." He adds as he leans in closer, and then the rune flashes and dims, the door sliding open. "And we're in."

@strike-team-solaris-4

The chamber within was darkly lit, shadows flitted about the edges of the room.

Within the chamber there were lines of stasis chambers. Each storing curios and artefacts from a time before mankind reached the stars.

As the team progressed, the artefacts became more recent... relatively speaking. There a pilot from the Golden Age of Technology, there a trio of men of iron, over there was the battered and broken form of a Thunder Warrior in scavenged gear fighting a pair of Dark Angels.

But one stasis chamber stood out above all others.

Sitting cross legged, a serene expression on their face was... could it be?

It must be.

It was Sanguinius!

Except... Sanguinius was... a woman!

[ozym4ndi4s]

I like how I went from

"Valentine's Day's just another one commercial holiday but oh well"

to

"I HAVE SOMEONE FOR VALENTINE'S DAY AND I'M SO MAD BECAUSE I CAN'T GIVE THEM ANYTHING PHYSICAL UGH"

[spaceistheplaceart]

The Relaxation Room/Ending

once again i got this idea from an ask i'll post later-- so ty for the idea!

Narry can get too wrapped up in his own processes sometimes- too wrapped up in the final product to enjoy the moment. He often stresses himself out about "running out of time" to become a writer and lives his life like it's just a waiting game before he can finally get what he wants. This room is to help him relax, enjoy the moment for what it is, and take a break before he continues on his way.

It's a very nice room. There's a large pool, beautiful music playing, and Narry can request whatever he wants to help him relax.

Unfortunately, Narry and "slowing down" don't seem to get along. He hates stalling, and even more so being alone with his thoughts. He starts to think too much about his situation right now: about how he's in some weird extra-dimensional space, at the mercy of this "Director", and about his life back home. Oh no- right now, he was probably missing rent! Missing work! What if when he got back, he was homeless, jobless, and would probably look CRAZY because who the fuck would believe his excuse of "oh, sorry! just popped over to some other dimension for a bit for some R&R, you know how it is."

He's only getting himself more riled up, more anxious to get going and get out of here- it's nice, sure, but the unknown scares him. And so much of this place is unknown.

He gets up and requests to leave. The Director says no, not yet, you need to relax a bit. Narry starts pullling on the door. "Let me out!" He growls, futilely rattling the frame. The Director tells him that he can't bust it open- it doesn't work like that. Narry now feels trapped-- he rears back to yell at the Director when...

smash!

His elbow had knocked into a vase.

He stares at the vase for a moment, before breathing out. "Oh... I'm terribly sorry, I..."

"..."

But breaking that vase... was actually a little... relaxing?

He kicks it over again, it breaking some more. He smiles. Control.

He keeps breaking things. The Director is telling him to stop, but Narry doesn't pay the text any mind. Finally, The Director is forced to come down there.

"You're supposed to be relaxing in here." The Director says.

"I am relaxing, Director." Narry bites back, smugly. "I know you may not see it as particularly serene but this is genuinely relieving some stress for me."

"Couldn't you relieve your stress in a different way?"

Narry rants at him, gets angry- taking out all his frustration on The Director until finally The Director reminds him he can leave whenever he pleases. The Exit appears.

Narry takes a moment to check out his room- he missed it. He opens the window and looks outside to the world, breathing in the fresh air he longed for. He did it. He was home, and hopefully still well off. He checks his phone, breathes a sigh of relief that his rent isn't overdue, and jots down an excuse to tell his boss later.

But then... he starts thinking. And he begins to replay that argument in his head. He really was being childish, wasn't he? The Director made him a lovely room to relax in, and what did he do? Go crazy like a caged animal. Granted, he very much was a caged animal- but... he's having some regrets now.

So he opens the door to go back and talk to him.

(continued in reblog)

[watermelonlovershigh]

any wattpad recommendations?

I'm going to just make a list of all the Wattpad fics I've completed reading. Because I haven't read many on Wattpad and some that I have read, I've never finished so I don't think that would be fair to include them.

(I'll set this up with the title and who its by, either a summary or a snippet of the story, and what it contains.)

-----------------------------------

Inclination by @peanutboyfriend

The year is 1994 and Harry is having a reawakening and discovery.

{ smutty- gay sex - pansexual!harry - soft!harry - child doctor!harry - friends to lovers }

Girls/Girls/Boys // H.S by @tudorstella

Harry spots her in the audience at every single one of his U.S. shows and is almost immediately hooked. She's all he can think about, even in his dirtiest moments. But what he does when he realizes she has a girlfriend is what seals the deal for her. After all, girls love girls and boys.

{ famous!harry - submissive!harry - threesome (girl, girl, boy) - smutty }

Save You Tonight by @1DaddictedXOX

"I'm scared Harry!" I shout, finding some courage to voice my concerns.

"Why? Tell me what scares you Maci and we can work through it, together," Harry asked, concern written all over his face as he watches me from where he stands in the kitchen.

"It's like this is all too good to be true. You will change like the rest of them. They are all nice at first and then they change. They are nice to lure you in but once you're hooked, that's when their true colors come out. I've seen it a hundred times with my mother. I've gone through it with Kaleb. It will happen with you." My voice grew weaker as I neared the end of my rambling. My lip trembled as I looked down at my bare feet, avoiding Harry's intense stare.

"Maci, look at me," Harry urges, "I'm not like Kaleb or any of those guys. I'm not trying to trick you. I'm... I'm falling for you."

{ heavy topics such as abuse - friends to lovers - famous!harry - angst - sisters best friend }

Kiwi // H.S. // A.U. by @Hitterj

I step under the hot stream of water, soaking my hair, and take a deep breathe. I try and clear my mind, focusing on the way the water feels hitting my body. I turn around, opening my eyes, only to shout out a curse and stumble back.

Emma is directly in front of me, taking off her tank top, eyes glued to my body. I hadn't shut the curtains, thinking no one would be in here, and I didn't know if I was happy or mad I did that. I stood there speechless as her small hands grasped the bottom of her sports bra. I inhaled sharply when she pulled it up and over her head, exposing her breasts. They jiggled slightly as she tossed her clothes to the side, and I found my heart rate quickening at an alarming rate.

"W-what are you doing?" I breathe out as she pulls her leggings down her body, leaving her in just a thong.

"Showering." Emma tells me as if it's obvious.

{ boxer!harry - soft!harry - cliche - smutty - friends with benefits - romance }

Twice as Nice by @Nouis_Strikes_Again

Having one boyfriend is great.

But having two bisexual boyfriends is better.

{ narry - narry threesome - bisexual!harry - bisexual!niall - poly relationship - angst - smut }

Dark a Harry Styles fanfic by @musicforsound

This is by H28 on onedirectionfanfiction.com it's wonderful and I hope you like it as much as me. Recommended for 17+

{ boxer!harry - dark!harry - smutty - angsty }

[rubdown]

It feels so good, touching himself after days of not. Louis mind blanks and he groans, spreading his thighs a little more and stroking himself slowly. He wonders who'd touch him while he looks like this, if anyone. He wonders if Harry would mind.

The last time he was with Harry - he shouldn't think of it. There's plenty of other things to think about. In fact, somewhere inside him, he knows he doesn't even really deserve to think about Harry like that, not anymore. He forces his brain to flip through other things, to other people.

But it's so dark, and he's alone, and thoughts don't hurt anyone. If he thinks about Harry's deep voice, and pink mouth, and glassy green eyes - it can't hurt him. The last time he was with Harry -

Louis rubs a sliver of skin covered in scales with just the right amount of pressure, and he gasps, arching his back and twisting up into the hand on his cock, his grip tightening as he starts to come.

Louis' dick snaps clean off in his hand.

He's still for a moment, just staring and trying to comprehend what he's looking at. Louis is holding his dick in his hand, for sure, but it's nowhere near attached to his body in any way.

He shrieks and drops it on the bed next to him. It lies there, lifeless. He flicks the lights on to look at it, as if feeling it weren't enough. It looks just like his dick, except it's not on him. Also it's a little too flushed, like it's been dipped in fuchsia food coloring or something. He reaches between his legs where it should be, not wanting to look at himself yet, and he expects there to be a bleeding, gaping wound, since he's apparently just ripped his dick out by the root. There's nothing there, just smooth skin. He forces himself to look. Where his dick should be is just an uneven circle of flesh, a little stump left over where it came off.

U JUST HAD TO BE THE ONE TO BRING THIS UP DIDN'T U!!!!!!!!!!!! I KNEW IT!!!!!!!!!! This of course is from my One Direction fanfiction A REPTILE DYSFUNCTION or as it is known colloquially, LOUZARD. A collab with the most talented artist of all time Natalie @rlottery!!!! This story is from 2014 and so much time has passed and we have all been thru so much. By the way I still CANNOT believe this fanfiction is nearly 40k words long.... I was crazy for this one!!!! I'm also in tears because the hit count on this is SOOO low for a LARRY fanfiction.

Ok the premise of this fanfiction is basically that, as a punishment for being a horrible nasty prick bastard, Little Mix puts a spell on Louis in a direct homage to the movie The Craft. The spell causes him to slowly transmorph into a lizard, like he gets scales and lizard eyes and so forth. IT'S AN AU???? Looking back I would have made this canon compliant as it were but that's ok.

I have always really loved to write stories about a character going thru something wild and crazy with their body because the cosmos are trying to push them towards somebody for love (eagle eyed readers will have also spotted this motif in my NARRY fanfiction Baby, I and my IT 2 fanfiction If I'm Butter and some others). Like until you learn to love then your body will life-or-death crave breast milk or it will be stabbed so many times or it will turn into a lizard!! And when I learned that a lizard could snap its tail off and it would grow back I thought, u know what. It would be so funny if Louis' dick and cock snapped off like a lizard's tail. AND IT WAS FUNNY!!!!!!!! This mf keeps snapping off his damn weiner so many times he gets a collection of them going and puts them on his windowsill. THE IMAGE OF THIS...... I HELD IT SO CLEARLY IN MY MIND... AND THEY LET ME GO ONLINE AND WRITE IT. He is trying to whack off to thoughts of Harry, but at this point he has not fixed his heart, so he is not allowed. THE COSMOS WON'T ALLOW IT!!!

[thenarryparable]

Just a short story I made with Cura x Narry

(Very bad just saying. I made this at 2am. You can fact check it.)

Listen to this hehe:

It was nighttime, the office and museums casted by dim lights and stars out in the sky. The Narrator was having a nice time watching as the stars twinkled in the sky of PocoyoWorld.

He stared at the stars like a child who has just seen the northern lights for the first time. The Curator walked over, "Busy day huh?" she asked as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Yep, especially with Pocoyo. He was a hassle today..." He said letting out a big sigh. Oh, she could tell it was rougher then that, he looks exhausted.

"Perhaps, you could have come over to the museum and asked me if I could watch him, darling. He's my son too." The Curator said with a smile on her face.

"I know, but weren't you painting with Stanley earlier?" he asked. The Curator nodded "I can see why it would be a bad idea. Pocoyo would get the paint everywhere. He'd 'decorate' the whole museum" she said with a chuckle.

"I'll definitely send him over when you need a paint job." The Narrator said, amused. "You better. I'm not painting this by myself." She said scoffing. "You must be out of your mind boy." The Curator said giving the Narrator a kiss on the cheek, now his cheek was covered in lipstick.

"Would you look at that? I've been curated. I'm a fabulous piece of art." The Narrator said pointing to it and flicking his curls back with his hand. The Curator slapped his shoulder, "Oh, you little dork" she said pinching one of his cheeks and laughing.

They look out the window and see Pocoyo and Mariella playing with a star. Oh no. "Welp, that's your cue kitty. Good luck." The Curator said walking away as the Narrator ran outside frantically.

Fucking Dork.

[estrella30]

New Narry Fic! https://archiveofourown.org/works/29700258

*

“You’re insane,” he finally says, because he is. Louis is insane. Everything he’s saying is insane. “You don’t see me over here asking you, you know, stupid things about you and Liam, now am I?”

“No, I suppose not.” Louis props his chin on his fist and stares off into the distance. “I mean, it’s probably because Liam and I write together all the time.”

“Ok, and just because you’ve done it longer means Harry and I writing together is somehow different?” Niall narrows his eyes as much as he can. Maybe if he squints hard enough Louis will just entirely disappear from his sight.

“No,” Louis says slowly. His mouth is curving in a sly grin. “Liam and I writing together is different not because of how long we’ve done it, but more because of how I’m not in love with Liam. Secretly, of course.”

-OR-

It's OTRA tour and Harry and Niall have a lot of feelings.