#Stagehand Don't Starve

[mechanicalfriend]

Troop Leader

[cowboy-in-training]

^ not a spider

[another-lost-mc]

really im begging for a sirius degradation thirst with afab reader because damn that man is something else 😩😩

a/n: he is indeed a horrible man and I hate him (affectionately)

➤ intermission | sirius x reader

1.3k words | nsfw | afab!reader

cw: sirius is his own content warning. jealousy and possessive behaviour; degradation.

Hot puffs of air fan across the delicate skin of your neck when Sirius murmurs into your ear, his lips brushing against you just enough so that you shiver in his grasp. he leans in close when he wants to speak: the sound of his hips slapping against your ass and the vanity in his dressing room creaks under your palms as you brace yourself against each deep thrust drown out everything else.

There's a commotion outside as actors and stagehands rush to prepare for the play's second act, and any minute now they'll be announcing for attendees to return to their seats since the intermission is almost over. You won't be joining them, not yet—not while Sirius is fucking into you from behind like a beast in heat.

When intermission started earlier, he surprised you. You looked up from the program in your lap when you sensed someone standing beside you, and there he was in his tall, sweat-slicked glory. He hadn't even changed out of his costume, but simply removed the heavy ornamental robes so he would look less obvious mingling among the crowd. In the dim, shadowy light of the theatre, you could still see the flicker of vibrant green and icy-sharp blue in his expression. He barely spared a glance for Vega who sat in the seat next to you, your guest for tonight's play since Spica was called away on urgent business and you didn't want the extra ticket to go to waste.

Something about the arrangement irked him because the smile that curled Sirius' lips lacked the humor and warmth he normally showed you. "There's something backstage I'd like to show you, if you don't mind." You didn't hesitate to take his offered hand—you never have, and probably never will—and he practically pulled you out of your seat and through the auditorium and busting halls leading to the dressing area. 

He said nothing when he led you to his private dressing room and closed the door behind him. He leaned back against the door, arms crossed behind his back, and the metallic click of the lock made you jump. His expression was softer now than it was before, but it was still unreadable. You fidgeted nervously with the sleeves of your dress, self-conscious under his inscrutable gaze.

"Don't do that," he admonished you quietly. He could see the self-doubt building around you like a fog. "You look lovely tonight." He stepped closer and brushed his fingers along the neckline of your dress, tracing over the exquisite embroidery. He smiled a little when you shivered until the gentle touch and he explored even more, gliding his hand over the heaving curve of your breasts and down further still. He followed the dip and slope of your tummy and waist until his fingers teased at the high slit that exposed your leg when you moved. 

"It was a gift from my boyfriend," you teased softly, reaching out to tuck a wayward lock of hair behind his ear. "He has excellent taste."

He hummed and leaned forward, inching his fingers across the top of your thigh and between your legs. "But he's stuck on stage, starving for you, while your dear friend Vega gets to enjoy your delightful company." His fingers slide along the silky material of your panties, drawing a surprised gasp from your lips when he slid his fingers gently over the material and applying barely-there pressure to your clit.

The world spun and suddenly you were pushed forward against the dresser. You braced your hands on the tabletop while his hand continued exploring between your thighs, pushing harder against your underwear so that the slick starting to coat your folds made the thin fabric sticky and wet. 

"I wonder if he thought of doing this to you every time he glanced over at your lap. I bet he got a nice view of your bare thigh and wondered if your skin is as soft as it looks," he whispered into your ear. The implication of his words burned your cheeks with shame, but you were distracted by long, nimble fingers sliding the damp fabric aside so he could trace circles around your entrance. "You'd have to be stupid not to notice the way he looks at you, my dear."

You gasped and bucked in his arms when two fingers buried themselves inside you. It didn't hurt—you were sopping wet and slippery for him—but you didn't realize how needy you were until you were suddenly full. "He's only a friend," you whimpered, grinding your hips down against his hand to encourage his fingers to go even deeper. "I wore this for you." You bit your lip and whined through your teeth when his fingers pulled out suddenly, leaving you empty and throbbing and desperately unsatisfied.

He moved behind you, his hands brushing against your back as he fumbled with his belt. There was a soft clink and a zip and then his cock slid down between your cheeks and through your messy folds. He thrust lazily between your thighs as he coated his cock with your slick and bumped the fat tip teasingly against you clit. He bunched your dress roughly around your hips and kissed your shoulder with a sigh. "Such beauty deserves a little appreciation, don't you think?" He buried his snarling groan into your neck when he plunged in deep with one sharp snap of his hips. "And who could possibly appreciate a little cock tease like you better than me?"

He fucked you with rough, erratic strokes. he didn't have the patience or time to draw this out for fun. This was a tease, a reminder, a claiming. He sucked little marks along the column of your neck with a grin, watching your eyes close and your head tip forward in the mirror's shaking reflection. He found the slit of your dress and rubbed against your clit with his forefinger, startling a broken moan from your lips when the sensitivity and pleasure took you by surprise. Your body fluttered around his cock when he teased you towards your release. His hips finally stuttered to a halt when he came moments later, groaning your name against your shoulder and filling you with cum.

You were both panting loudly in the otherwise quiet dressing room, and you heard the muffled announcement that the show would be recommencing shortly and that guests should return to their seats. Sirius had more than enough believable excuses for his sweaty hair and sloppy stage makeup; you had no reasonable explanation for your own well-fucked state. 

"There's a washroom down the hall where you can clean up," he suggested, eyes glowing amber as he kissed your temple. He let the crumpled dress fall back into place and he stepped back to admire you. You were flushed and warm and glowing. He adjusted his pants after tucking his softening cock away. "I'll take you there and then you can go back to your seat for the rest of the play."

You took a hesitant step on still-trembling legs and leaned into him when he wrapped an arm around your waist to steady you. Your thighs were tacky from slick and cum soaking through your panties and dripping down your leg. You weren't sure perfume would be able to make the way you smelled now, musky with sweat and lingering notes of Sirius' cologne wafting around you like a cloud.

"Vega's going to guess what we were doing if I sit next to him like this," you whined with embarrassment when you dabbed at your warm cheeks with a cool cloth. 

Sirius's smile turned cocky, and he looked far too pleased with himself when he glanced at you in the mirror and caught your bashful gaze with his. "Exactly."

[phantoms-autistic-hands]

HERE'S THE OUTLINE ABOUT THIS BRAINWORM

i haven't rly thought of a name for my OC so i'm just gonna use the placeholder name jean for now [after Jean Vic. don't @ me on this]. he might not even end up french tho we'll see…… anyway he was a sailor (don't ask me for further details, it's blurry. it's Real blurry) and he just got back from a voyage but he was discharged from the navy.

what happened during the voyage was he got into a relationship with a higher ranking officer and they were close but was pursuing their relationship knowing that when they get to land they won't be able to continue it (not if the officer wanted to stay in his social circles) buuut it was kind of an open secret on the ship. then there was an Accident, in which the higher ranking officer died (yes i'm going down the dead lover cliche pathway--shhh it's for the plot later). so when the higher ups were looking into the death, they found out about their relationship, which is why the discharge from the navy [[listen. i think at this point france has decriminalized homosexuality but i have no clue what it's like in the navy. so i'm assuming it's the don't ask don't tell thing. so don't @ me on this. or do, i would Love to know if anyone knows]]

so heartbroken and out of a job jean found a job vacancy of being a stagehand at the opera house. his job would be way down below the stage or way up above stage, and the job requirements reminds him of finding his way on a ship, so he's doing just fine with this. he does his job well enough, keeps his head down, tries to be friendly when he can.

after a while of doing bits and pieces here and there and he's established himself, the new chief stagehand gives him the main job of maintaining the area on the mezzanine floor where joseph buquet was killed (i'm smooshing leroux canon and alw canon together here btw. canon is toy blocks for me to pick and choose) since a lot of stagehands avoid that place like a plague. it's not out of malice, it's just that they all realize that jean doesn't rly believe in superstitions or ghosts so they're all like why not? he's knows about the stories but since he doesn't believe in ghosts (and thinks that anything about phantom as an actual dude is an exaggeration of events to attract patrons) he's like eh, alright.

all this happens while jean suspects that he's definitely traumatized by the events that happened during his voyage, obviously. he knows of stories of what happens to people who's traumatized enough. at this point in time he's given in to talking out loud to his dead lover when he's alone, so this is how one day erik heard him through that trapdoor into his home (/torture chamber). when erik tries to scare him off by speaking to him in a disembodied voice, jean Naturally thought that his trauma has given him auditory hallucinations. he at first breaks down about this because he thought he was doing better mentally, but this is a sure sign he isn't doing that great actually.

erik, absolutely confused about this reaction, decides to show himself physically after some time, just to prove to jean that he's not Actually having auditory hallucinations. but jean first mistook him for a lost patron, and is like sir u can't be here without supervision?? and jean's worried he'd lose his job if someone catches a patron wandering down here with only jean watching him bc he sure as hell ain't qualified to give patrons a tour below stage. but erik would mysteriously disappear any time anyone comes close to them. cue a whole bunch of meetings like this bc erik's lonely and this man new to the opera thinks he's a patron and treats him like a normal man and he's been starved of company ever since christine left and the mob hunted him done and he stopped bothering the opera

so they get closer. jean's half worried that erik's a hallucination, since he disappears a lot and is never seen by anybody else but jean, but he seems so real……

they get to a point where erik tells jean of christine and they bond over having lost someone they loved. erik speaks longingly of his dreams of being married and having a wife to go on sunday walks with

at this time jean is a little (a Lot) in love with him and gets his heart shattered into pieces bc god damn it he wants a wife Of Course he'd want a Wife...........

and then somehow erik finds out that jean is in love with Someone and he asks about it (somehow feeling something like Rage and Something Else because jean? in love? WHO WOULD CAPTURE THIS MAN'S ATTENTION? WHO DARES? WHO DESERVES IT?) and jean is like its of no matter (because he thinks erik wouldn't reciprocate. he's not the exactly right gender)

then jean spends a long time thinking it over and realizes that even if erik doesn't return his feelings, erik seems like someone who would benefit from being told that in this world Someone does loves him, even if he [erik] doesn't love jean back. so he tells him and it takes a while to convince erik of it but then erik remembers that jean said his love for erik is "no matter" and goes batshit about it bc does this mean he doesn't matter to jean????

and jean tells erik that it does matter. it matters to him a lot. erik matters to him a lot. but he can't give erik what he wants, their relationship would not exactly be an open one. it would be some secret thing, at the very least half hidden from society. he won't impose that on erik when he knows erik wants his little walks in the park with his lover........ erik's showing the 404 error code.

anyways idk how it goes from here but they'll get together. i swear

[constant-little-leaguers]

The Popularity Little League is arranged into three factions, with one victor from each faction competing at the end for the title of Most Popular Don't Starve Underdog. The current polls are as follows:

ROUND 1

CHESTER vs PACKIM BAGGIMS HUTCH vs RO BIN LUCY vs ROWLING STAGEHAND vs J1-M1 MOCKINGBIRDS vs BERNIE & ASHLEY WOBY vs GLOMMER

ROUND 2

CHESTER vs HUTCH LUCY vs J1-M1 BERNIE & ASHLEY vs WOBY

FINAL ROUND

CHESTER vs LUCY vs WOBY

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

every reason imaginable* why charlie and wigfrid should kiss i think

i was gonna do this in 2023 but idc anymore i've been holding onto this for well over three years and its time to make it everyone else's problem

The dichotomy between good and evil:

One of the main reasons why Charcoal/Charlow resonates so well with people is because of the contrast between the two characters. One of the main motifs of Don't Starve is light vs dark, after all. But Charlie and Wigfrid are really good foils for each other as well! Especially when you take Wig's... you know, protagonist syndrome thing into the equation.

Wigfrid is a just and noble self-proclaimed warrior, who balances her somewhat prideful demeanor with loyalty to her allies and an honor she carries about her at all times. Charlie is a bitter and power hungry ruler who disguises her more unsightly traits with an air of regality and elegance. Though part of it is seemingly out of her power, she strikes invisibly and ignobly, and has been shown not to be above things such as manipulation and deceit to get her way.

But they slip up a bit every now and again. Charlie will occasionally get uncharacteristically soft- little bits of her former self slipping through. Wigfrid, on the other hand, will sometimes need to reel herself back in, struggling to keep in tune with the moral allignment of her persona. There's little bits of greys between the black and white that they so desperately try to repress, but that sometimes comes peaking out every now and again. Could they make each other better? Could they make each other worse? I don't know, but they sure could make themselves something, that's for sure.

Prisoners of the persona:

It's one of the more obvious things people tend to notice about both their characters. Who Charlie shows to the public isn't really Charlie. Not completely, anyways. And likewise, who Wigfrid is isn't truly Wigfrid, either- though with her it's far more difficult to pick apart what part is the persona and what's genuine.

The thing is, while both of them are probably aware that their personas are not themselves, both of them struggle with the same issue in regards to it: That persona happens to be the only thing they have left of them after the hardships they needed to face.

For Charlie, it's obvious. Whatever happened to her after the Final Act damaged her irreparably- both mentally and probably physically as well. There's no room for something like Old Charlie to resurface in the position she's in now, overseen by eldritch beings, wrapped around their finger, debatably physically a part of Them. To embrace Old Charlie is a risk that could result in unspeakable consequences- should she ever find the strength to embrace Old Charlie at all.

Wigfrid, on the other hand, at first took up the persona under much easier (yet, to her, still very impactful) stakes. That being the fact that her career and ultimate passions were on the line. Almost certainly suffering from something (an anxiety or some form of self doubt that manifested itself into a hatred of the self), she eradicated the actress entirely, further embracing Wigfrid more and more in a desperate attempt to cling to what remained of her livelihood. Though, it can also be implied that a lot of 'Wigfrid' was developed during her time in the Constant, which in itself would also come with it's own implications... Surviving only because of the adeptness and skill of your persona. Having it to thank for the person you've grown to become.

And yet, again, sometimes you see cracks in their masks... Sometimes Charlie drops her catty and uncaring act- if only for a second... Sometimes she makes gingerbread, or eggnog, gives presents to survivors on the holidays, or quietly observes the cheerful ongoings of the Midsummer Cawnival... And meanwhile Wigfrid has been bringing up her prior stagelife with an almost unnerving frequency, whispering her recollections of old stagehands (real ones not Charlie's evil ones) to the kitcoons, basking in the glow of Winona's spotlight, showing off her perfect pitch with the shell bells, and even writing her own scripts to take with her into combat.

Whether they know it or not- whether or not they even want to admit it- there's an obvious desperation to exist beyond the mask, even for mere moments at a time... There's a clear struggle between fulfilling those desires, and tamping them down and completely ignoring them, and they're both teetering on the edge of both at any given moment. If anyone is going to understand how it feels to keep that hidden little part of you in check (excluding Maxwell), it would be the two of them.

Stage motif:

Absurdly obvious point to make but that is exactly why I'm bringing it up. Wigfrid used to be an actress, and even in the Constant still puts up her (incredibly convincing) performance. Charlie's role on stage, while more ambiguous, can also be confirmed to have been on the stage beyond her appearance as an assistant with Maxwell (maybe as an actress herself. Probably not a playwright, though that can also be tossed around as a potential).

But the reason why this holds so much weight is because of the value they themselves attach to the stage. Charlie's turned it into her entire motif! Even before A Little Drama, the Florid Postern and Stagehands have always been a telltale sign that she's never truly forgotten those elements of her past- and even seemingly holds a distant sentimentality to it (which only seems to have been growing lately, after aLD and Encore).

While Wigfrid tries her best to keep it under wraps, there's an undeniable fondness that she still holds for the stage. And in anything that even vaguely resembles such, she'll make note to call it out. From the horses own mouth there's a longing. Klei themselves call it an "irresistible urge to perform", and yeah, the fact that she'd love anything enough to introduce it as a new element of her persona is evidence enough of how much worth it holds to her.

It's more than just a little hobby or characteristic they share. It's Charlie's lifeline to the past, and Wigfrid's siren song. It's pieces of their past selves clinging for dear life, unraveling the character they've built around it. And they're probably the only two characters who really get that. Who understand it's worth. And I don't even have to specify excluding Maxwell in this example, because while he is an actor his attachment to the stage pales in comparison to his attachment to the Codex and dark magic itself. That's what he bonded himself to; the power and prestige and new sense of self that it gave him. But the girls found a liberation in acting itself that still haunts them like a ghost to this day

+ Reflections of the past:

Another very important thing to take into account is the fact that Wigfrid and Charlie probably had some connections with each other in the past... And if not connections as in flat-out interactions, then connections as in shared experiences- something that can be equally as important when you've been torn away from any scrap of society.

We know plenty of strange similarities that Wigfrid and Charlie share. They were both abducted in 1906, meaning that they shared the same time period. They both had careers in the acting field (seemingly to varying success), and even more specifically than that, they both had an affinity towards Shakespeare, something that Winona can confirm for us when she examines some of Wigfrid's scrips. They also both happen to be women in their field, which in itself was rather rare for the time (although steadily becoming more common, as progression slowly does what it does).

That's all well and fine enough, but then you get into more specific things... Like the fact that the Florid Postern- an invention from Charlie's own hands, suspiciously resembles Wigfrid's archway in her own home. To me, that's well a cue as anything that their pre-established relationship- or at the very least their pre-established shared experiences- go further back than what even we're privy to. If it turns out that they knew each other pre-Constant I don't even need to keep going I could finish this essay right here and everything else would already speak for itself.

They're so distinctly different- as different as night and day. An elegant queen and a blood-soaked warrior. And yet, it seems both of their pasts weren't all too unique... maybe even intertwined. It's the fact that they could go as far as to share the same thought process that really gets me. That they could find beauty in the same things. That they could probably recite the same poetry.

Where Wigfrid differs from Maxwell:

Now by this point, you may be thinking "Savvy, this is a great analysis and I agree so so much with your points-" (thank you) "-but you've made several points explaining Wigfrid's similarities to Maxwell in the past. Don't you think that something like that- sharing similar traits to a man she holds so much ire for- might make Charlie more adverse to interacting with her?"

And to that I would say: First of all, I also ship Maxlie so that argument is completely void because I think they should kiss either way. But second of all, Wigfrid has a glaring advantage that Maxwell pre-constant completely missed out on:

Charlie knows that Wigfrid is a persona. Charlie didn't even know that 'Maxwell' wasn't his real name! That's what Wigfrid has over him. Maxwell's whole 'thing'- as much as he didn't intend for it to be- was an act of deceit.

Wigfrid's not deceitful, she's just stuck in the embrace of her own persona. But even if she was deceitful, Charlie can't be deceived- if not because she's God and Knows Everything, then because even before she was taken to the Constant, she's either seen or heard of Wigfrid in the past (an actress at the time getting as popular as Wigfrid got? Seemingly making the headlines on a repeated basis? There's no way you wouldn't be privy to that- especially if that's your field of employment).

To her, I think that would be a practical gold mine of entertainment- especially as someone who was deceived by Maxwell in her past. Batting around another persona- one with origins so similar to yours. It's like one of those ground beef filled pumpkins, except the ground beef is whoever's under Wigfrid's mask, and the pumpkin is. Wigfrid herself.

Another very important part when it comes to shipping Wigfrid with anyone- especially her friends- is the implication of the Mask vs the Self...

To make this quick (because I could write a whole essay about this alone): The Actress has already been scarred for stepping out of the persona of Wigfrid before; with her old audience. And it caused so much strife in her life that she fell into the persona like quicksand, and to this day hasn't dared resurface. I think the biggest hurdle between Wigfrid and a relationship with any of the other survivors is the fact that- for all she knows- they could be in love with the persona, and not her. And why shouldn't they be? Who could blame them, when the persona is all she's ever shown?

It's a matter of trying to balance the pros and cons of showing someone you care about who you really are... and potentially dealing with the consequences of them disliking you- or worse, flat out hating you. Like her old audience did.

All this to say, Charlie can skip right over this hurdle immediately... True, she may not know all the details (or maybe her position on the throne lets her know everything, who knows), but she knows enough to poke holes in Wigfrid's persona like it's paper. As much as that fact may unnerve her, you gotta be honest, it solves that issue pretty much completely.

Other stuff that you should also consider but I don't know how to phrase it in a way that makes any sort of sense:

The beauty of a rose needing its inelegant roots in order to survive. Death's unrequited lover locking gazes with its Harbinger. Being puppeteered by a shadow of your own making. Wearing masks of your own face. Brighter spotlights only casting darker shadows. Does this make sense?? Is this making sense? A white knight and a black queen. Looking at your own reflection and seeing a stranger in its place. The way dusk will always lose to twilight, but twilight will always lose to dawn, but dawn brings way to day, and day brings way to dusk again. Is any of this making any sense? It's about pulling back the mask for someone else because try as you might you're not strong enough to do it on your own. Does that make sense to you?

ALSO. Wigfrid has already seeming displayed an attraction towards Charlie at least physically and its the funniest thing and I think about it once a day at LEAST

ik 'fair' doesn't always have to mean beautiful but. it does in this context. i asked mr klei and he told me. so its true trust me on it.

[faerieforeverr]

So, I'm writing a self-insert fanfic...

From a distance I could see a tall, stone wall structure, smoke pluming from the middle of it. As we got closer, in front of the structure was a brown fence overgrown with vines. Outside of it was a table with a neatly placed, red, velvet tablecloth. Atop the table was a vase with a red rose in it.

“I sure hope that’s one Wilson or Wes placed…” Webber gulped, staring at the table with a quiver in his lips, fiddling with his hands.

“It most likely isn’t, if it was, Willow would’ve burned it down already.” Wendy states with a morbid certainty that makes me want to vomit.

What is this and why is Webber so afraid of it?

“Well it’s outside of the fence, nothing to worry about.” Walter reassured, “It won’t be getting in, either, because we’ll close the gate behind us.” He smiled, opening up the fence gate, it creaking as he pushed it. I followed behind them as they walked inside the fence’s safety, Walter nodding to me and then closing the gate and locking it.

“See? No scary Stagehand will be getting us.” He smiled.

“It’s called a Stagehand?” I pondered aloud.

“It’s an ominous manifestation of Uncle Maxwell’s stagehand. She forever follows us in the dark, making the shadows deathly. They will one day consume us all.” Wendy answered solemnly. - Can you tell which Don't Starve character I main? You guys should definitely go check it out on AO3 ;3 A Whirlwind of Shadows - Chapter 1 - floweryimmortality - Don't Starve (Video Games) [Archive of Our Own]

[jemichiart]

Another one with the Victorian skin set, because I just love them so much! Now it’s time for Maxwell - because I also love this terrible old man very much! :D

With a Stagehand. For reasons.

I’m sure he’d much rather be drinking his tea somewhere more civilized, but it is what it is.

[aproposuranism]

Three more shows until you see Charlie again, just three left and she'll be back home. You can't wait. It's weird to miss them this much when you know the two of you have never been better off than you are right now, half a country away from eachother; you fight a lot less now you're older and settling into yourself, none of the constant clashing you'd done as kids, actually getting along for once.

 

Life continues on without Charlie, but her memory's still there. Or maybe something a little more alive than that.

[hugsloves]

made a short comic. Webber seeing Stagehand for the first time I was playing Webber when I saw it first time.. It scared me XD

[klodwig]

[atlasthemayor]

Inktober day 8 "Frail"

That thing is definitely NOT frail, but it looks like it is, so...

[mirthandir]

Stagehand

[cameoappearance]

Hug the friend

[triumphantwillow]

Stagehands are really cute tbh like

Just look at em go! A friend..

[sunnigamerx]

when you play don’t starve together for the first time, and then suddenly a walking table tries to eat your soul

Just more rough doodles based off of the game me and my friend played last night,