#hahah i'm going to hell

[coconut530]

SERIOUSLY!? RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY PUMPKIN BREAD TRIFLE PT. 2

[kaisollisto]

avatrice but they're both furniture tables.....

At first Ava just thinks it's just a really good day, the sun is shining at the right angle through the window that warms 3/4s of her. Her broad oak surface preens at the attention. She's always loved the way the window casts light. The slopes and curves hypnotize her.

There's something that calls to her, (the story, the mystery, the mistakes, the process,) that she loves. The arch, Ava pores over, there's a story brimming beneath the smooth glass. It vibrates at a frequency Ava can't get out of her mind. It sings to her and sometimes it drives her insane.

She wants to answer the call, to sing back but Ava is brown oak wood. She was made from the splinters of a great tree she can no longer taste.  The memory lingers like a tender bruise, the taste of something greater, something familiar, but now all she can taste is herself.

She tastes like a forest fire, smokey and raw. It sits inside of her lungs smoldering, burning her up. And Ava has never known how to stop heaving.

Ava's favorite game is finding love in plain sight. She can't calm the forest fire but it's easy to pretend she isn't on fire when passion curls inside her.

She looks for lingering touches, worn away divots, the absence of dust. There's always more to it, a reason, a why, an answer that Ava seeks. (One that she doesn't want to know but seeks.)

It's been years but Ava can still feel her. She stands on 4 legs just like her but there is purpose in the way she holds space. She holds it like a museum (whereas Ava fills her lungs with as much air as she can hold).

The question itches at Ava, it paws at her chest and she's always loved to scratch. She can't find it at first, the love, the absence, the dust, the divot, it's hard. For once in her life Ava just sees a table.

And it eats at Ava, she permeates Ava’s brain like a fine layer of dust. No matter how much Ava wipes off, the dust still settles. Ava can't escape her, they've never held a conversation (but Ava has held the air in her lungs longer in hopes she could taste something different).

-

(She radiates devotion, and what is devotion if not something akin to love Ava thinks.)

[revvethasmythh]

okay what actually bothers me about most fcg discourse is that the tone of it is always so similar to how it was during the height of the "people hate sam because he's not pushing a beau/jest agenda" era that happened in c2, in that there is some minimal narrative discussion about his character intercut with a lot of "I think someone should hurt him/his character for 'disrespecting' [laura and/or marisha character]," which is really present in that "someone should make him eat his coin" sort of verbiage that gets tossed around when fcg does something (anything) related to the gods, and particularly if it affects laudna or imogen.

like here's the thing, I saw so many people from this sort of group back in the c2 days say something along the lines of "I want to kill him/I am going to kill him" about sam and then be like "no I mean it as a JOKE. like affectionately. I'm going to kill him I hate him he's homophobic and so is his character and I think he should die hahaha isn't that funny" and that tone like. REMAINS and PERSISTS in a lot of fcg discourse I see. the idea that he needs to "pay" for doing something that generally, at most, is a mild inconvenience in-game, if it was anything of note at all (often it wasn't!). "I love him!" in the same breath as "I think he needs to suffer and repent" and if he doesn't, that he should be thrown out wholesale. Brings all the old memories a-roaring right back

[paigebuckets6]

Yearning Allegations

Part: 1

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x reader

Genre: Friends to lovers slowburn (Series)

Synopsis: You've liked Paige for the longest time. Is there any chance she likes you too?

Paige Bueckers was your best friend.

She was also one of the most popular players on the Uconn Huskies.

Although many loved her, none of them knew her like you did. Most certainly, none of them loved her like you did.

You had known her since the first year of high school, where you two hit it off in English class, teasing her about how slowly she read. She had just shot some stupid comment back at you, and from then on, you two were inseparable - which is why you were sitting courtside at this very moment, happily watching her play.

"And that's time, another win for Uconn!!"

The announcer shouted loud as Paige threw the basketball at the last second, arcing perfectly into the net. She beamed wide as she turned around, her cheeks pink with pride, scanning the crowd for you. Her eyes seemed to shine a little brighter, or so you thought, upon landing on you.

She grinned in your direction, nodding slightly at you, as she ran past you to congratulate her teammates. They tackled her, nearly knocking her over. The crowd's roar was racious in your ears, their shouts nearly as loud as yours. Uconn had won again. You smiled to yourself, Paige was gonna be absolutely insufferable after this. She always was after games like these.

You waited patiently outside the change rooms, scrolling mindlessly on tiktok, waiting for Paige to finish up. Usually, she stayed a few extra minutes afterward, yapping with the team about whatever, and then would come out with KK, jokingly bickering about some nonsense. You hadn't been waiting more than 5 minutes when Paige came bounding out alone, grinning proudly. You grinned back, amused. She was like a 6 ft tall puppy.

"Yooo y/n, did you see me out there??!" Paige threw her arm around you as you guys started the familiar walk to her dorm. After wins, she'd refuse to let you get any work done so you didn't even bother going back to your dorm at this point.

"Yeah, I saw!!" You say, unable to stop yourself from smiling back. Paige's smile was genuinely infectious.

"Dude, I'm the best hooper at Uconn for reallll hahah." Her laughter echos around the hallway.

You roll your eyes and pat the hand she has draped over your shoulder.

"Ehhhh, I think you're alright"

Paige scoffs at you, eyebrows raised.

"Come on, just alright?? You love me, don't lie. " Her eyes are alight with happiness and you fight the corners of your mouth, looking away.

"That play at the end was eh, I've seen better"

Paige rolls her eyes, scoffing yet again before holding the door open for you, leaning against it.

"You're a terrible liar y/n"

Before you can reply, Paige ruffles your hair, and you bat her hand away, complaining. She grabs your hand, and you bodycheck her, but to no avail, cause she takes off running to her dorm just to annoy you on purpose. But you laugh anyway, cause it's so typical Paige.

---

It's only a few days later when you find yourself at an infamous Uconn house party, and the alcohol in your system is making your cheeks feel warm. Your red solo cup of vodka is half empty, and you peer at it, wondering if you should leave your comfy spot on the kitchen counter.

You're admiring Paige from across the room, watching her talk to some fans.

She looks hot as hell tonight, dressed in a black cropped tank top and low waisted baggy black cargo pants. Her middriff is on display, and a tiny bit of her boxers peak out. For a second you wonder about what'd it feel like to put your hands there but you force yourself to stop thinking about her, nails digging into your palms as you take another sip of your drink.

Your feelings for Paige had only intensified over the years, becoming harder and harder to ignore as you two got older. In high school, you could just explain it all away because she was your best friend, but now? You guys had only become closer since starting at Uconn, and these days resisting the urge to make a move was becoming nearly unbearable, especially with the looming fact that everyone and their mother wanted Paige.

Normally, you'd just go over to her and yap her ear off, but the amount of alcohol you've had tonight makes you feel like being around her might be a bit dangerous.

So instead, you just stare from afar, watching her put her arm around the girl who's exclaiming she's "her biggest fan." You roll your eyes, inner monologue already snarkly thinking that Paige gets told that at least once a day.

You're so engrossed in watching Paige take pictures- she's now laughing with the fan over some stupid joke- that you don't notice KK's slid over to you.

"Damn girl, you really ain't beating the yearning allegations huh"

Her voice shocks you out of your reverie, and you glance over at her.

"Huh!?? What do you mean-"

KK's eyes are knowing, and she just raises one brow as she pours herself a new drink.

"Boo, we all see the way you look at her"

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. Although you're pretty sure the whole team already knows how you feel, you still refuse to admit it cause what if that got back to Paige? You want her, but not more than your friendship. You could never forgive yourself if something happened to you two. You resist the urge to do anything about how you feel solely to protect your friendship.. but also because you're scared. What if she doesn't like you like that? It'd probably just make everything awkward anyway.

"I don't know what you're talking about- Paige's just my friend." You keep your voice steady, but your expression darkens as you see the girl is STILL talking to Paige, her hand lingering on Paige's waist as she draws back from a hug.

"Uh huh.. whatever you say, " KK says, leaving the kitchen with her refill.

A few minutes later, you're busy answering some texts when Paige comes over.

"Hey, KK told me you're being all edgy and hiding out in the kitchen instead of having fun at the party. You're scaring off the hoes, dude. "

Paige is always more affectionate than normal when she's drunk, and tonight is no different. She places her hand on your thigh, grinning as she peers at your face, and you look at her for a few seconds before you move off the counter to stand.

"I'm not hiding, I was dancing a bit ago I just got tired-" This is technically not a lie, considering you did dance for a few minutes before deciding to become the next Joe Goldberg.

"Rightttt..." Paige towers over you, an annoying fact that hasn't changed since high school.

You're about to reply with some smart ass answer when some girl walks into the kitchen, cup in hand, her jaw dropping open as she spots Paige.

"Oh my God, Paige Bueckers?!?" The girl's voice raises practically 3 octaves, and you feel so annoyed you resist the urge to just sigh at the sight.

"I love you so much! I was watching you the other day - that final score was so good you really clutched the game-" The girl gushes, her hand resting on Paige's arm. Paige is, of course, grinning broadly. She loves the attention - and you can practically feel a headache coming on from the sound of the girl's voice.

"My head hurts real bad, gonna go back to my dorm-" You murmur as you pass Paige to leave.

"Oh, are you okay?" Her attention is momentarily distracted by your leave, and you try to inject some pep into your voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

---

Authors Note: Hope yall don't mind a slowburn! Thought it'd be cute to make a short series <3

Trilogy: Part 2 here / Part 3 here

[generalsmemories]

hello jing yuan's wife!! congrats on 1k followers! you very much deserved it 😊 may i please request for jing yuan with angst scenario #5? thank you in advance!

Stubbornness

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ prompt used: needing to go to an event after a party and having to pretend as if they aren’t angry with one another the entire time || 1k event

✧ contents: established relationship, hurt/comfort, alcohol consumption, arguments cause yeehaw, however happy ending cause they are functioning adults, mentions of other characters

✧ a/n: the amount of times ya'll have called me jing yuan's wife at this point HAHAH. anyway! first drabble to kickstart the 1k event is a sort of angsty one because why not but ya'll remember that one book where the sanctus medicus had 5 operations to try and get rid of jing yuan? yeah have that back in mind. - also not beta-read but who is surprised at this point LMFAO

"... You could've died."

Jing Yuan snorts, adjusting the bracers on his forearms without even sparing you a glance, "But I'm here right now breathing, aren't I?" he quips back instead, almost sounding amused at your worry.

It infuriates you. It baffles you how little he truly cared about the situation and at the severity of it. The hair you had for once tried to style already messy by the amount of times you've ran a hand through it out of stress or frustration the past two hours.

You're so glad you made Yanqing leave earlier to assist where it was necessary.

"Do you honestly see this as a mere joke, Jing Yuan?" you sneer, arms crossed whilst leaning one side against the doorframe. He must already know what you're referring to, being that you had finally opened the report handed to you from today - a report telling that there was yet another attempt on his life.

Another attempt that he didn't want to tell you about.

"Quite the contrary," he says, turning around to finally face you. His smile is still present on his lips which only serves to make you more agitated, "Nothing happened as you can see, and I'm perfectly fine. As such I didn't see the need to tell you about it because nothing happened. I wasn't even at the Artisanship Commission like they thought-"

"Because you got delayed."

He sighs, crossing his arms as well and cocking his head to the side, "Dear, with the amount you're worrying about me it makes me believe you have no trust in my capabilities to protect myself. Am I right to assume that?" he questions, his smile fading a bit after he had asked.

"Where the hell did you even get that from- Can I not worry about my lovers safety even when I'm aware of his swordmanship?" you ask, clicking your tongue whilst running yet another hand through your strands.

"And I'm telling you that it is a needless worry-"

"You're fucking unbelievable," you scoff, turning around to head for the entrance of your home, Jing Yuan quirking an eyebrow at your retreating form, "Oh? You're not going to nag at me further?" he asks, his tone may be lighthearted, but even you can pick out the slight bite it has to it.

"Even looking at you right now makes me want to punch you. The fact that you can't even see where I'm coming from is unbelievable enough, so fine! I won't worry more about our dear general," you bite back, slamming the door shut once you're at the other side.

You can come up with an excuse as to why the two of you arrive separately - it wouldn't be the first time after all.

"You must be quite delighted that the expedition finished earlier than planned, right [Name]?" Master Gongshu asks, handing you a glass and immediately clinking his own against it before taking a sip, "Even the tiny lieutenant made more of a name to himself out there."

You snicker, swirling the contents of the drink before you, stealing a brief glance over at Jing Yuan who is surrounded himself, "Indeed, I'm quite relieved to see him and Yanqing safely return to the Luofu."

Even though there was immediately another attempt on his life the moment he stepped one foot back onboard.

"But say, aren't you a bit saddened that the general haven't been by your side as much today? He's practically surrounded by the other commissioners and knights," master Gongshu points out, to which you only shake your head, "Why of course not, as long as I know that my husband is safe - I wouldn't have to worry about anything," you say - a bit louder than needed.

You know Jing Yuan heard you.

He kept his attention solely on the people before him though, not even sparing you a glance.

The sight makes you let out another loud sigh, bringing the glass to your lips only to immediately drink it in one gulp, Master Gongshu snickering beside you while calling another waiter over, "Oho, I see you're rearing to go so early! This is indeed what a celebration feast is about!" Master Gonshu roars, his laughter having been a bit too loud to attract the attention of other people, who merely snickered at his own energy.

Jing Yuan only narrowed his eyes, eyebrows furrowing in displeasure at your comment. It seems like you still haven't cooled down. But as soon as he heard his name get called, he was all smiles again, "Aren't you worried that [Name] is going to drink too much, general?" a solider jokingly asked, raising his own glass to have a toast with the general. Jing Yuan merely let out a low chuckle, "Of course not, and even if they were to, I'm here to take care of them."

At this point, the master diviner had made herself to your side with a few snacks - just in time to see your expression twist for a split second upon hearing what Jing Yuan said, letting out a laugh yourself, "Oh, don't worry dear. I know how to take care of myself, so there's no need for you to needlessly worry like this!"

She can practically sense the animosity between you two that no one else in the room has apparently picked up on.

But Fu Xuan does admit that seeing Jing Yuan's perfectly crafted smile twitch a bit in annoyance while his eyebrows furrowed a tiny bit did bring her satisfaction - a taste of his own medicine.

So while master Gongshu have wandered off to get a refill, she makes her way over to you with a raised eyebrow, "Trouble in paradise?" she asks lowly, you merely huff in return - turning around to lean on the fence, staring at the various starskiffs in the air, "... No."

"I applaud you for still wanting to lie in front of me," Fu Xuan comments, placing the tray of various snacks beside you for your perusal - you don't grab anything, already lost in thought.

"Is it a needless worry?" you end up asking, Fu Xuan having leaned against the fence herself while having her body turned to face you, "About what? His safety? Yes and no."

"Gee, that helps a lot."

"He's a general, [Name]. An attempt on his life is unfortunately common sense, moreso at this time too being that he had just returned from an expedition and would be by some standards - exhausted and have his senses dulled."

"So why-"

"But it's also because he is a general that precautions are taken. Even if he got delayed or not before coming to the Artisanship Commission, the Cloud Knights stationed had already intercepted the attempt - he would've still been safe."

You bite your tongue to prevent yourself from blurting anything more. In hindsight you were perfectly aware that Jing Yuan would be fine - but you're pretty sure there's not a single lover out there who would not worry about their own husbands' safety if his head had once again been targeted - even if it had been yet another failed attempt.

Before you can admit your wrongdoings to Fu Xuan, you feel an arm slither around your waist - delicate lips pressing against your temple, and from the faint breath Jing Yuan lets out, you can tell he's had a few more to drink than you in the span of your conversation with Fu Xuan.

"... I thought you didn't like to drink that much," you say softly, turning around in his hold only to be met with a smile, "And I thought you weren't going to speak to me?" he whispers back. You merely huff and let his head fall down to your shoulder, sending Fu Xuan a pleading gaze to which she immediately gets without you needing to say anything more - walking over to the crowd of onlookers to step in for both you and Jing Yuan.

"I am still mad," you finally utter after a few minutes of silence between the two of you.

"Whatever can I do to make my beloved not mad at me then?" he asks back in a whisper, careful to not let anyone else hear the two of you. You can tell from your peripheral vision that he's turned his head to face you, although you keep your gaze facing forward.

"Admit you were wrong," you huff, Jing Yuan letting out a low chuckle at how you're still holding onto that stubborness, "I'm pretty sure I saw that you were about to admit that you were wrong to the master diviner, no?"

You don't answer, merely looking away in a silent defiance. The sight making Jing Yuan sigh in amusement, "Alright, I'm sorry dear. I'll make sure to tell you in the future whenever I feel something amiss," he says in the end - but before you can accept that apology, he quickly adds on.

"In return, I do hope you tell me whenever the disciples also target you."

.... Oh.

"... You know you could've made me inform you in any other way than having us argue?" you state, back to your moody self - the switch in mood making your husband laugh, "Not such a great feeling being left in the dark, is it?" he reminds you - and you hate how effective this sort of method is.

So your only reply is to wrap your arms around his waist, "I'm sorry," You can feel his body shake with laughter, his own arms wrapping around your shoulders before you feel his lips pressing themselves at the top of your head, "Now stop being mad, because these few hours were quite tortuous for me."

"You just say that because I usually do all the talking."

"Precisely."

struggled with that ending for 3 days man.

[isagispuzzle]

EMMMAAA CONGRATS ON 200!! I love reading the scenarios u post :3. For my req, I think my most fav trope(s) ever are misunderstandings, soul mates or the amnesia one hehehe, u can just pick one ! again congrats 🫶

HEHE THANKYOUU the amnesia trope is so fun to write, idk how i completely forgot it exists HAHAH thank you for reminding me of it!! anyway i'm really hoping you don't mind angst bc this was too irresistible to write

you wake up in a bed that's not your own. you recognise the pristine white walls and the lingering smell of rubbing alcohol in the air, and you know you're in the hospital.

the memories rush back. you were filming your newest action movie, and your wire snapped mid-jump. you remember falling, you remember the fear solidifying in your veins, and you remember thinking about him.

the door opens and sae walks in. his eyes widen the moment he sees you're awake, and the next thing you know, he's leaning over you with a hand carefully pushing your hair out of your face. he quietly asks you how you feel, in a voice so soft and tender, while his eyes turn glassy. he cups your cheek and squeezes your shoulder, the uninjured one, and you freeze.

you know he's the one you thought about right before you hit the ground, you remember every eyelash and every line on his lips, but you know you're forgetting something.

sae, ever so attuned to your every emotion, pulls away. the vulnerability drains from his eyes and he stares down at you from his full height. you look back at him, and you know that he's already read you like a book.

the doctor diagnoses you with selective retrograde amnesia as a result of trauma to your head. while most of your memories are intact, you can't remember much about your relationship with sae. the doctor assures both of you that your memories will return as you recover, and to help, you can revisit important or meaningful places.

sae brings you to your shared apartment after your discharge from the hospital. you remember picking out every piece of decor with sae, you remember assembling the shelf with him, and you remember falling asleep on the couch while waiting for him to come home. he brings you to the sushi bar you two always visit, and the beach where he confessed his feelings to you, and the hotel you're going to have your wedding at. you remember hiding from the paparazzi on your first date, you remember telling sae to wait till after your movie premier to hold the ceremony, and you remember going for cake tasting sessions alone, because sae was in spain and he didn't care what flavour the cake is.

you look up articles about you and sae to jog your memory too. countless tabloids have covered the two of you over the course of your relationship, teasing that you're the only one who can melt itoshi sae's icy heart and speculating that you're engaged after seeing a ring on your hand during a table read. you see comments online praising the picture-perfect relationship between you, an up-and-coming actress, and sae, the pride of japan's football. hell, you even scroll far enough to see fan edits of the two of you in hopes of remembering the rhythm your heart used to pound around him.

months pass and the day of your wedding marches closer. you remember all the details of your relationship with sae, you remember how much sae and everyone around him cares for you, and you remember how much you loved him before the accident.

you look at him across the dinner table and you know that he is your fiance, the man you're promising to spend forever with, the man you're supposed to love. you know and remember all this, but you don't feel it.

sae looks back at you, and you know that once again, despite your perfect line delivery and method acting, he's already read you like a book.

[theroundbartable]

Reverse concept:

Merlin and Arthur are stuck in a cave but don't know why. There are symbols on the wall

Arthur: the hell is this? Do we have to like - confess our deepest secrets or something?

Merlin: actually this thing says that only thus people are stuck who are deeply in love. Apparently some ex girlfriend left it here to kill the man and the woman he betrayed her with

Arthur: 1. How the fuck can you read those symbols. 2. What the fuck?

Merlin: yeah, I know. And Gaius taught me.

...

Arthur: so, you're in love, huh? How hard would it be for you to stop bein in love with them and find another way to get us out of here?

Merlin: ... Impossible. How about you?

Arthur: fuck. same

Merlin: ... May I ask who it is?

Arthur: no.

...

Merlin: maybe our best bet would be to forget they ever existed. You've been hit in the head a couple of times, if we do it hard enough that might work

Arthur: I've never forgotten who I loved tho. It was only ever short term. Besides, if you do it to me, I'd forget you existed and would forget to get you out. I suppose unless you have magic or something and can erase our minds, we'll starve to death here.

Merlin: huh...

Arthur: what?

Merlin: nothing, it's just - that is an option

Arthur: I was kidding. You don't have magic, do you, Merlin?

Merlin: ...

Arthur: you have magic?!?!?!

Merlin: sorry!

Arthur: fuck. So like - you lied to me, all these years *tries to get out again, fails, then sighs* fuck, I knew it.

Merlin: what?

Arthur: not even THAT gets my mind off of you. And yeah, it's you. I might as well tell you now If we're going to die, or you erase my mind - or kill me, whatever it is you wanna do

Merlin: for the record, it's mutual

Arthur: shit, for real?

Merlin: yeah... And you're reacting far better about the magic than I expected, so this is kinda - it's the worst feeling ever. Knowing we have a chance to get out but ... None of this remains

Arthur: i'm sorry

Merlin: wanna make out before I erase our minds?

Arthur: well, it can't be more embarrassing than it already is

Bonus: three erasures later

Arthur: who are you? What are we doing here?

Merlin: I'm Merlin and you? apparently people in love are stuck here

Arthur: oh... Hahah. Funny thing, do you believe in love at first sight?

[0oolookitsme]

So Despicable

Type - A One-Shot (yet again!)

Verse - Singer!Harry x Ceo!Y/n

Word Count - 2.1k

Warnings - Uses of degrading slurs such as slut and whore. Do not read if that's not your cup of tea!

A/n - Legit posting this an hour late and I'm sorry! I just finished proofreading and am right away posting this. Not exactly my best, but it's good! Hoping you'll think the same hahah <3

Kinks - Sir Kink, Degradation Kink, Choking and Begging (if you squint)

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

Please rb to share!

As she turned the lock of her house, Y/n felt like her knees would simply give out if it took one more second to get the door to open. On the final twist of the key, she pushed the door open and immediately swung her purse on top of the shoe rack.

Bending to undo her heels, she left them thrown there and walked further inside the house. She was confused when she didn't find Harry downstairs but nevertheless poured herself a glass of water.

If he weren't down here, then he must be up in their bedroom or his office. Dreadfully, she climbed up the stairs, her shoulders droopy and her back aching after the long day. "Harry?" She called out, hoping that he would hear her and come out. Alas, he didn't.

She looked around in all the rooms before going inside the bedroom, dropping her body onto the mattress right away. After lying in silence for no more than a few seconds, she got up and fished her phone out of her purse – pressing on Harry's contact before putting the phone on speaker and stripping her clothes.

"'ello?" He answered, his voice serious in a way that made her doubt if he didn't know it was her on the other end of the call.

"Where are you, H?" She questioned him right away, picking the phone back up when the only clothings on her body were her under garments. "Searched the whole house, didn't find you."

It was silent for a moment, and Y/n felt that something was off. "I'm in the gym, didn't hear you come in," he said in that same tone and it was starting to make her skin crawl.

"Oh, I didn't check the gym. When are you going to be done?" She asked, fidgeting with her fingers as her mind raced a million miles per second to come up with all the things that she could've done or said wrong.

Yet, she came up empty. Harry wasn't the one to go to gym after noon, it happened rarely – mostly if he had been out and about during the morning time. So, it was clear that he was avoiding her.

"Dunno, should be done in half an hour," he said and she could tell he was doing push ups or something else by the sound of his strained voice and heavy breathing.

"Okay, I'm going in the shower," Y/n told him before he agreed and cut the call.

Taken aback, she shut out the situation before jumping into the shower and letting the warm water wash away all the stress off her muscles. After rinsing her hair rid of the shampoo, she came out of the shower, water still dripping from the ends of her hair.

When she turned around, her hand immediately went to her chest on a sharp intake of breath. "Fucking hell, Harry," she exhaled deeply, heat creeping up the back of her neck once she realised how ridiculous it was of her to get scared by the sight of him seated on their bed.

She just hadn't expected him to be there, that's all. "I'm sure there's still water left, I didn't shower for too long," she told him while walking towards their closet.

"Drop the towel and come here," Harry said, his voice deep and low. She couldn't help but ask him to repeat himself, caught off guard. "I won't repeat again, Y/n. Drop the towel, and come here," he said again, this time weighing down on each word as he spoke.

His arms were crossed across his chest, the veins more prominent because of his recent workout session. One of his legs dangled off the bed while the other one was folded. Nothing but a white undervest covered his upper half, a short pair of shorts clinging to his thighs.

Hesitant but because of her trust in him, Y/n dropped her towel and walked to him. Uncertainty and anticipation caused her hands to start fidgeting again. Slowly but surely, she reached right where he was sitting on the bed, her hands seemingly frozen on her sides as she stood upright, unable to move any further.

"Lay across my lap," Harry said, unfolding his leg and laying it straight on the bed to make the spot comfortable for her.

Y/n did so, all of the silence and holding-back of Harry was causing her brain to spiral. But one thing she knew was that whatever was coming, it wasn't going to be very holy.

She felt Harry's cold hand grab her ass before he started massaging it. That's when she knew she had surely done something wrong, because he was punishing her.

His palm met her ass cheek with a sharp blow, causing her to jerk forward. "Count for me," he told her, kneading her other cheek before hitting it with the same blow.

"2," Y/n counted, her voice shaking with thrill.

Harry watched her bum jiggle at the impact, the skin already begining to grow red. He stopped kneading the skin by the fifth blow when he couldn't hear pain in her voice. Now, he was just spanking – one side before the other. He was going at a fast pace, his hits unrelentlessly hard as he finally began hearing despair in her voice.

He kept going, not giving the skin much time before slapping it again.

"P-please, Harry–" Y/n stuttered, stopping when he gave a especially hard hit on her ass.

"What do you say? Have you forgotten your manners?" Harry said, his voice sterner than ever and Y/n was beginning to feel like he was being unnecessarily mean to her.

"Sir – It's Sir." She blabbered, answering him as if he would give her a reward. Yet, she was met with another hard spank. "W-what-ever have I done wrong, Sir?" She asked desperately, still lost on the cause for this side of him boiling up to the surface.

"A pathetic mess already? Can see your cunt glistening," he mocked her, swiping one of his fingers through her folds. "What have you not done wrong today? Cut my calls, answered back in short answers as if I were wasting your time, didn't even tell me if you were going to be back for the night or not," he answered her, massaging her bum.

"Didn't even apologize to me," he said, his eyes fallen into angry slits as he slapped her ass harshly.

He pushed her off of his lap and watched her roll over, unable to balance herself and get up. "Can't do anything right, can you?" Harry said as he pulled her up by her shoulders and sat her on her bottom.

She moved around, her bum hurting too much for her to sit on it. "Hurts," she whimpered, the corners of her eyes moist and wet hair sticking to the skin on her back, neck and forehead.

"Of course it does. Wouldn't have done it if it pleased you."

Both of them knew it pleased her. And if they didn't, then her juicy cunt would have surely given her away. She sat on her calves in front of him, her hands in her lap as she looked anywhere but in his eyes.

"Still, you aren't apologizing." Harry pointed out, causing her to flush. But before she could say anything, Harry pushed at her chest so she would fall on her back on the soft mattress.

Her legs immediately fell open in order for her to get comfortable, and just as she took notice, Harry's hand had already met her pussy in a harsh slap.

"Instead, you're pathetically dripping out of your hole," Harry sneered, slapping her puffy pussy again. A wet noise came from the impact and when he brought his hand back up, the string of her arousal connected them.

"So despicable you are."

Y/n jerked each time Harry hit her cunt, her thighs aching to close and protect her core yet she knew better than to do that. She counted each hit and once she counted the tenth slap, Harry dragged a finger across her dripping hole and covered her clit with her own arousal.

"I've been punishing you over here, and you've done nothing but drip out of that needy hole and blabber out the shit I've asked you to." Harry said as if he were disgusted. "Can't think of anything else with that dumb little brain of yours, can you?" He tsk'd at her, shaking his head.

He pinched her clit, laughing hoarsely when she instinctively closed her thighs shut. "Hook your hands under your knees," Harry instructed her and once she had done that, he was glad to have full access to her pussy.

He pinched her clit again, this time not releasing the hissing hold. With his other hand, he filled her hole with two of his fingers right away – sliding them in and out with great ease due to her wetness.

"Such a poor little thing you are, getting off on being a pretty whore – on me being mean to you," Harry crooned.

When she started to moan, he took her panties that she had taken off of herself before going into the shower, and stuffed them into her mouth. Pathetically enough, she hadn't stopped moaning even with the cloth in her mouth. The noise came out muffled, which Harry seemed to enjoy.

He then created an unrelenting pace, his back crouching in order to give all his strength in fucking her. He was still pinching her swollen clit, a grin plastered on his mouth as he heard the wet noises her pussy was making.

Her clit had grown red in colour due to his harsh pinch that didn't seem to know how to release its hold. "Fuck – fuck , sir. Sir I'm coming, I'm coming I'm so close –" Y/n stuttered as her body shook violently, her face scrunched up in pain and pure ecstasy.

Her body burned and her pussy pulsed as Harry continued fucking her with his fingers mercilessly. "What do you say?" Harry cooed at her, impossibly increasing his pace. "What do you say, my darling slut?"

Her eyes glazed over at the slur, tears springing in her eyes as she felt the knot begin to lower in her tummy.

"Can I please– please cum, Sir?" She said with great strain in a voice, like she was holding back.

"Why are you holding back? Not going to comply with your sir, hm?" Harry asked her his voice shaking due to his violent movement. "Guess I'll just deny you the permission, then."

Harry got off on dominating her. After all, she dominated all of the people around her, especially the ones in her office. She always had a hunger to control people, so the fact that he got to control what she would do or not do, dominate and manhandle her, and be mean to her like she was to most of her employees who deserved to be fired, he felt absolutely euphoric.

"Can I please cum," she cried out, her body shaking vigorously. "May I – may I please cum, Sir?" She cried again, repeating her request until it turned into beg for him to let her cum.

"Please, Sir!" She yelled, knowing that she wouldn't be able to hold back. "Please – please, let me come Sir," she kept on begging.

"Ah okay okay, don't need to be so annoying about it," Harry rolled his eyes, watching in amazement as she became a shouting mess.

He felt as her walls clenched around his fingers, and pinched her clit a bit harder. He heard her let out a final cry before she finally gushed all over his hand.

He maintained his pace as her cum spurted around due to his force. She arched off of the bed and pushed into his hand while heaving gibberish. "Fuck – fuck," she stammered, when he stopped and put his mouth on her – lapping at her as if he hadn't quenched his thirst all day.

"P-please, sir – sensitive," she whimpered, now trying to pull away from his mouth but unable to do so because of the position he had put her in. Her legs ached, but his palms laid flat on the back of her thighs as he sucked at her clit.

Harry finally detached his mouth from her and rose up, wiping his mouth with the back of his clean hand. He put the hand that was covered in her juices in front of her mouth, and ordered her to suck.

When she licked his hand clean, he wrapped it around her neck in a choking manner and weighed on it when he leaned down to get closer to her.

"See? You can be good, too." He grinned, pecking her cheek as she turned her face away from him to hide her rosy cheeks.

"God, I love you no matter what you be – my pathetic slut or my pleasing little darling," he chuckled, nipping at her jaw.

[obeymematches]

I saw your MC is a tease/Bully not so oblivious ask. But how do the brothers react to some one like me who literally cannot tell someone likes them unless they open their mouth and say it?

Like seriously, unless you smack me in the face with the info I am completely oblivious.

hahah i like this idea! Though these turned out so long i'll do a part2

Mc IS oblivious!

Lucifer:

● To demonstrate his eternal love, ardent obsession he expresses his feelings through gifting you not just one, but an entire boque of maroon roses. He grows them in his garden. If this doesn't impress you tell me, what will?

● "Ohh! How pretty! You're so sweet Lucifer you really didn't have to! Now where shall I put these-"

● Inside his mind: Okay MC likes them- but perhaps not me? I should've given them something more practical it seems. I must figure out what they prefer."

● His next attempt was much more simple; to your luck, he prefers not to make things more complicated than they need to be. Yes he invited you to a stroll through a nearby park. Yes you had no idea it was a date. Even though it was just you two and you walked around with you hand around his arms, his other hand gently caressing the hand you gave him. Nothing special just a regular Thursday, you thought.

"MC, I must confess, it was my pleasure to spend time with you today. I wish we could do this more often..."

"To tell you the truth I could get used to this, thanks for inviting me for a walk!"

"Was it just a walk to you, MC?"

At this point you felt like you needed to be careful about how you continue the conversation.

"Well- technically, wasn't it a walk?"

"It was. You are right. What I've neglected to tell you is that it was supposed to be a date. You are on my mind every day, in fact, I can hardly forget about you as I work. You are very dear to me despite not knowing you for a long time. I... I'm very fond of you MC. I just wanted you to know."

Mammon:

● As you are aware, he spends most of the day with you. You don't sleep together but besides that you are pretty much together all day.

● You are in your room, laying on your back, scrolling your phone to pass time.

● He enters your room casually, lays beside you without saying anything. With a swift motion he lifts your phone out of your hands, puts it on the bed next to you and lays his head on your chest.

"Mind givin' me attention?"

"I gave you attention all day Mams, whats going on?"

"How come ya always nice to me MC?"

"Uh- You are my first friend here, of course I'm nice-"

"Ya don't have to be so nice cuz of that though..."

"What do you mean Mammon?"

"Ugggh ya gonna make me say it? Cuz I'm not about to-"

"Say what? You're confusing me-"

"Nothin. It's nothin."

● That was it for that day. Same week you were minding your business in the kitchen when you overheard your best friend fight with Levi.

☆Don't ya dare tell MC!!

□ Or what? You'll draw me with a pencil?

☆ Ya piece of-

There you were on the doorstep, wondering what the hell is going on here.

Levi: MC! Did you know Mammon likes you??

You: Well- I sure hope he does, we are friends afterall-

Levi: nOOO he likes you more than a friend!

You: Uh... He is my best friend I guess?

Mammon: Levi ya idiot stop right here! Yes MC is my best friend now shut up!

● Life goes on as it is for a couple of days. One night Mams brings you a beer (0% if you don't drink) and sits down with you.

"MC... Imma ask you a question, be honest alright? An' don't laugh okay? So MC... am I really just ya best friend?"

"Yes you are. Why?"

"Listen MC ... I wouldn't be tellin ya this if it wasn't true alright- I like you a lot."

"And I like you a lot too!"

"MC, no. I'm... I... wanna be with ya. No, not just with ya, I just wanna be yours."

"As in....?"

"As in that stupid series you made me watch- "

"Mammon? Are you telling me you want to date me?"

"Uh-huh. I promise I'll give ya anything ya want. If ya'd let me-"

Leviathan:

● my boy is the definition of oblivious, unlucky for you

● Okay at this point it'll take ages for this conversation to happen....if it happens at all.

● By now sending each other hearts in the video game you play is a routine, but strictly IN GAME!

● He visits you in the Human World without complaining

● He doesn't spend much time with anyone but if you want to, he will!

● Very clingy for someone as oblivious as him.

● Both of you starts to give hints at some point and still nothing happens. "Yeah he's so nice." "Ah MC always thinks of me, how sweet." "Don't overthink, don't overthink, don't-"

● Okay I am actually struggling to think of a scenario when he confesses so blutly there is no doubt he means it. I think his plan B is to play it off as a joke so whatever the circumstances it's ambigious.

● So listen MC, Levi's only gonna do it once. If you miss it, you miss him out. That's it.

● Levi: So... MC... I was thinking... how funny it would be if we actually started dating- unless...

You: Funny? Why would that be funny?

Levi: Because you and I.... like great friends!

● Okay here is your chance MC he's nevee going to bring this up again-

[yridenergyridenergy]

My hellish trip

Aside from the quite imperfect start that it had, I also tried to do as many hell-related things as possible during this trip to Japan, in honour of the tour being called: "Who is this hell for?"

Of course, I couldn't go to Sapporo and not visit Jigokudani (hell valley) in Noboribetsu. They compare the landscape to something out of this world, like from Mars, and the sulfuric fumes remind us of hell's flames. That being said, having been spoiled on sulfur sources in Iceland super recently, I wasn't that impressed, except that Noboribetsu's had way more colours than Iceland's.

Then, I was able to stop in Aomori to visit Towada Art Center. Ever since I saw photos of her works online, I'd dreamt of seeing one in person. The art exhibited all around and inside the center are also more than worthwhile, but yeah, I'm in love with Memory of Water:

(Hellish because... Those are not happy memories of water hahah.)

Next, I caught in extremis an exhibition on Louise Bourgeois, famous for her Mother spider sculptures, but who, it turns out, had a lot of parallels with Kyo's mentality, I find. And she once said:

Not sure if that was exhaustive, but in such a short time, I think I stuck to the theme as much as I could. I guess, as for my personal hell, I also visited an exhibition by a woodcarver who recreates very realistic food as painted wood, which a ton of food might as well be in my case since I can't partake in it. Hopefully the other visitors felt 1% of my frustration.

[forestfrolickingfairy787]

Linked Universe Headcanons: What I think each of their roles would be in a boy band

I'm surprised how popular my prev one was! I was chatting to a non fan friend and she was curious what they would be like in a band, and asked me who the rapper would be...I reckon WILD hahah

Anyways...

Time: Not an active member but used to be a solo artist back in the day, he doesn't like being in the limelight as much and mentors/manages the rest of them. Still has that suave quality, a total heart throb and occasionally hosts a one off concert only available to the VIPS. He was the IT boy back in the day.

Warriors: Leader of the band and all rounder. He's a complete heartbreaker, can sing, and dance every style and fans go crazy over him. Very charismatic and flirty, knows how to make a fan feel special at a meet and greet and always takes a photo with them.

Twilight: I think lead guitarist, can sing beautifully and has one of the most charming voices, also very yeehaw and country when he goes on solo tour dates or drops his album. He's dripping with quiet confidence and doesn't share too much about his private life to fans, likes to keep a boundary between his private and professional life but will always be kind of them and never deny a photo or autograph

Sky: Has a beautiful voice, more shy and s o f t, he's one of the more quieter members and doesn't like being on camera as much but doesn't hate it either. Has that sweet prince charming vibe that everyone loves, would probably be a part time model on top of his band duties. Can play the guitar and bass

Wild: Absolute hardcore. He's def the main rapper and won't pass up the chance to drop any bars. He'll def go on rap battle tv shows and break EVERYONE. Mans got flow and swag, especially after getting a full arm of tattoos. What's the backstory behind them? He'll change it everytime he's on an interview. Absolute coolest dude on earth, fans LOVE him and how chill he is but you don't want to get on this guy's bad side or you'll be on his diss track list. Even the others are slightly scared of him. Always on social media posting selfies and updates, or threatening other artists that come for him or his band. Likes to film the other members to until Time tells him to cut it out and touch grass

Legend: I can see him having a lot of range in his voice, very powerful and can sing ballads. One of the lead singers and occasionally helps with writing songs. He CAN dance if he puts his heart and soul into it. He loves writing poetry and secretly writes love songs for himself based on a special girl, but he'll tear them up before anyone sees them. Would Probably records an incredible, heartfelt song he wrote and composed himself on his instagram then delete it after 5 hours beccause he'll be like, why the hell did I just do that? Fans would cry, wishing he would post more gems like that. Hates to be in the front but also fairly confident in his skills. Fans adore him because you can just see he's actually a big softie on the inside despite that tough exterior he puts up. Secretly jealous of Wild's rap ability, can't rap to save his life but maybe, one day.

Hyrule:

One of the lead singers, has the most melodic voice and can absolutely stun a crowd with his angelic vocals. Like Legend, also is one of the members with the most range. You know when you see someone in person and their just glowing? Yea, that's him. Sweetest celeb ever, everyone that's worked with him only has good things to say about this guy. Definitely has the most potential to go solo as well with his incredible piano skills. Can also play almost every other instrument, an absolute talent in everything. He also sponsors charities every now and then and interacts with fans on social media. Can do contemporary dance

Wind/Four: Tbh I think they would be good in broad way, both are great singers and still very much fanboys to the others. Their working their way, still in training. Can definitely see Wind going big on broadway and theatre and specialising in tap dance

Can you guess who is my bias? Or who's your bias? hehe

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

☆There's No Place Like Home☆

Episode 1: A Warm Welcome

[Pilot]

《You are new to this... Neighborhood? Where the hell are you?》

《Warnings: the subject matter this ARG has are potentially disturbing. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. Welcome Home was created by Clown @ partycoffin 》

-

Furiously wiping at your eyes, snot running down to your chin. You try to control yourself when realizing that the voices didn't sound like they were gonna hurt you.

"Oh, dear!"

"My goodness!"

"Are you alright!?"

Shaking like a leaf, you gaze down at the rainbow-colored pieces of paper falling down your shoulders.

"Wh-hat?"

You choke out, feeling spit and vile in the back of your throat.

"Neighbor, are you alright?" A soft voice questioned you, gazing up at...

That is not a person. What are you even looking at?

A yellow fleece-skinned puppet with blue hair styled into a tall, spiraled pompadour and 70s clothing greets you. He kneels beside you, reaching out a yellow hand to your back, rubbing it up and down gently.

His expression was rather calm than frightened of your well-being.

You wanted him to back away and didn't have the energy to shove him if you were honest. It felt like your skin was saggy and your bones turned into juice.

"I'm so sorry Neighbor, we didn't mean to frighten you. Right everyone?" The male puppet says, looking at the other puppets that stared at you with worry.

"O-oh, yes!" One of them rushes to you, causing you to lean back. "I'm so so so sorry! We didn't mean to come in without asking! Of course, we scared you! Poor thing!" The pink fleece-skinned skinned puppet exclaimed.

"Julie, maybe give them a bit of space, you're invading it." Another voice pipes up behind the female puppet. A gray puppet pulls the girl back by the arms gently.

"Oh, right!"

"What are you?" You whisper, and your pupils were blown out with fear.

"WHO. Are you?" You ask more loudly, catching the colorful group off guard.

"I forgot! Introductions are in order!" The pink puppet proclaimed.

"My name is Julie! Julie Joyful, oh, this is Frank!" "Frank Frankly."

"I wanna go next!" A voice boomed, and another puppet appears in your line of vision. "My name's Sally! Sally Starlet! And I'm a star!" She flaunts good-naturedly, her eyes bright with energy.

"Oh, I forgot!" Sally pulls a giant bird with rainbow feathers, a caterpillar-like puppet, and a mailman puppet toward your supposed "group".

"This is Poppy, Eddie, and Howdy!" They smile at you kindly before Howdy pulls out a cake, (from seemingly out of nowhere.). He holds it out with a smile with his multitude of hands.

"We brought a welcome cake from my bodega! We hope you would enjoy it," Howdy said showing it out to you from your position on the floor. The cake was layered with white frosting and rainbow sprinkles slathered around the giant frosted words: Welcome To The Neighborhood.

Little signatures surround the bottom of the bolded words. "Oh.. Thank you..? That's very, uhm, sweet."

You pause, recalling your words in your head and becoming quiet.

"Hahah! Good one bud'!" A big blue puppet dog laughed, slapping his paw on his knee. His laughter was contagious as the rest of the marionettes giggled along.

"You're gonna' fit right in! Names, Barnby B. Beagle, your new Neighbor."

The dog winked, holding out his hand for a shake. Yet moves his hand away when he pulls the yellow puppet from beside you. Holding him by his armpits and showcasing him like a shiny trinket. The blue-haired puppet seemed unfazed and still had his soft expression.

"This nice 'fella here is Wally, a real Darling! Hehe, a pal of mine! My best-est buddy, and hopefully, your's too!"

Why did it feel like this was a commercial or a horrible skit you weren't in on?

"It's lovely to meet you, Neighbor," Wally replied.

You nodded, looking away from his eyes and focusing on the cake.

You felt better than earlier when you thought you walked into some murdered party or cult-type thing. But was it worse than talking puppets without strings?

You aren't sure yet?

Was this cake even real? Was any of this real??

"W-ell, thank you for the hospitality. But this isn't my home... I'm not even sure where this place even is?"

The puppets grow quiet at your words. Their confused stares made you uncomfortable and queasy. "This is Home, where inside your Home silly! Isn't this all your stuff?"

Poppy points out, gazing at the clutter of unopened boxes and furniture.

"Hmm, they must have forgotten. Moving is tricky business, especially on short notice." Frank states thoughtfully.

"N-no that's not-"

You feel your tongue become limp and your eyesight blurring into meshes of color.

"Are you okay, Neighbor? I bet all that stress of moving got ya' pretty tired. C'mon, let's eat some cake!"

Barnby states, letting go of Wally and helping you up.

Everyone cheers as Sally goes off to find cutlery in one of the boxes. Howdy places the cake on a table hidden away in a corner while Eddie and Frank round up any chairs they could find.

Wally pulls out your seat like a gentleman, handing you a plate of cake as everyone chats and eats

-

[Taglist closed]

@tearjerker666 @trzppyghxuls @cookieswithay @luna-charlie @isometimeswritestuff @kazi-pop @lightspectre-universe @jjowithastar @smilingfox22-blog @jayysnotjoyful @cadaverous-coop @heather-hutchcroft @camilo-uwu @pauldanosbandonedirection222 @sweetheartturtle2007 @pretty-please-just-let-me-sleep @welcomehome102

[Hiya! Thank you guys so much for such the positive comments! I need some more, I crave. Readings ya'lls reactions are the best and make it easier for me. Thanks! Art is always appreciated!]

[hannibals-grahamcracker]

I was JUST reading Hannigram fics so here's some I really liked!!

"An Ounce of Wit by Winddrag0n" This one is just flat out cute as hell.... if we ignore all the homicides that happens later on, and has a really cool reveal at the end with Winston and Hannibal ;)

"Masks we fear to live without, but cannot live within by Thinminted" (Note: This one made me claw my walls with angst so good!)

The Fairy and the Ravenstag King by Totallyottie99 I read this one years ago when it was updating it is was, is, soooo good! I love anything going over the fae and mythical creatures. It's almost like cluedo but with the fae inside it hahah

This Dangerous Game by MissDisoriental Idk if you've read this one already but it's one of my top fics! MissDisoriental is a GREAT Hannibal writer and with this taking place in London during the Jack the Ripper cases?? MUAH amazing!

I have alot more but take these for now! :D I hope you enjoy them!!

Wowowow thank you! I'll add these to the list!

Also, I'm super excited for the first one, I love anything cute and especially anything that has Winston. :)

[bubuslutty]

Omg single dad Price?? Cliche as hell but hits all the right spots when ovulating hahah

omd thank you so much for this ask anon!

I've had so much writing abt single dad price! I hope I delivered 💙

cod mw2 masterlist

word count: 2.1k

tags: fem!reader, she/her, no descriptions of physical appearance, poc friendly, sfw

warning: none.

a/n: I wrote this on my periods and by God do I want this man so horribly bad. my mind is infested with filth when I think abt him but I also want to write fluffy things for him :((

okay so single dad price au

first of all, in my head, for some unknown reason, he'd have 2 boys, maybe twins and 1 little girl, the youngest. I see them as all being under 10 years old.

maybe you first met through one of his friends, Johnny maybe, who decided to invite you to travel down to Price's place all the way from Glasgow for some sightseeing and touristy stuff, or going to a festival or going to a show to see one of your favorite bands.

You knew Price, heard of him a couple of times but never met him face to face. and lo and behold when you do, your heart does a little flip and a giggle comes out of your mouth when he introduces himself and sticks his hand out, smiling down at you.

I SORRY BUT I'M WHIPPED FOR THIS MAN-

luckily he doesn't mind the giggle and his smile just becomes even bigger, because it's evident you're happy to be there, happy to meet him. and if Johnny likes you, Price is bound to like you as well.

And he does like you, easily swapping jokes and laughing together with Johnny. He gets comfortable pretty quickly with you, he leans forward and nods to whatever you say, seemingly captivated by your whole aura. After a whole pint of beer, he unbuttons two more buttons of his short-sleeved shirt. It was already hot outside, so maybe he wanted to cool down but his eyes say otherwise.

John is fucking massive, that you can tell by his body, even tho Johnny tells you he's a busy dad of 3 children, he somehow still manages to still go to the gym. He has both muscles with a healthy layer of fat on them, and you can appreciate a big man with a soft tummy but with the strength of a bull.

You've seen pictures of John before, shown to you by Johnny on multiple occasions. And his back still haunts your dreams. In a good way. He had such a huge back that you wanted to just climb it and cling to it.

And that man had huge arms and veiny hands with blond hairs on them, and a nice full beard on his face and fluffy hair with the warmest eyes you've seen. And the absolute unit of shoulders to waist ratio ever. And to top it off that man has WICKED hips, thighs and ass.

He mentions his kids once or twice over some drinks and yorkshire pudding burritos. And you sit up, interested and curious. You ask about their ages, names and because he's such a dad, he obviously has to show you his wallpaper of his boys and girl.

You lean closer to look at them, and they're so cute, with blond hair just like him, his boys have brown eyes while his little girl has blue ones. And they're genuinely adorable that you Aww at every picture he shows you.

This leads to Johnny telling you anecdotes from when they were little, like nappies little, and how one of his sons peed on him in the middle of changing his nappies once.

It's all fun and games until Johnny frowns down at his phone when he receives a message and he excuses himself, telling you and John how he has a thing to take care of, so he's leaving you two together to have some fun, and for John to take advantage of his child-free time.

Johnny leaves after giving you a tight hug and a wink, walking out of the nice pub John frequents.

"So… What's your favourite colour?" You asked, biting your lower lip and staring at John through your eyelashes.

And he seemed taken back by your question, "My favourite colour?"

"Yeah," You nodded, feeling a bit anxious for asking such a silly question, but you really wanted to get to know him, starting by asking him innocent questions and analyzing his reactions to them.

"Blue. What about you?" He answered with a shrug and a small smile.

"Me too! It's also my favourite colour!" You gasped, excited.

John chuckled at your excitement, taking a swing of his beer while you toyed with your phone like a fidget toy.

"I don't remember anyone ever asking me about my favourite colour, except my kids of course, and that one face paint artist at school fairs." John said and you giggled again.

"What did you get painted on?" You asked, grinning from ear to ear.

"Sonic the hedgehog." He sighed and you started laughing, eyes watering and shoulders shaking, even snorting once and slapping a hand to your mouth, eyes wide and cheeks hot.

John doesn't think twice before prying your hand away from your face, "Don't. A snort isn't going to chase me away."

"And uhm, I know why we're here, really here. Johnny isn't as subtle as he thinks he is." John confessed and looked away from your face, as if embarrassed.

"It's alright if you don't want to get together or anything, we could forget this ever happened, John." You said, placing a hand on top of his and leaning closer to look at his face better.

He looked at you as soon as those words left your mouth, "I didn't say anything about not wanting to get together-"

"Really?"

John sighed and grabbed and squeezed your hand, running his other hand through his beard, "Listen, you're absolutely lovely, charming and as beautiful as Johnny claims you to be. I do want to get to know you better, It's just– I'm not really someone you easily date."

You smiled, "You're a package deal."

"Excuse me?"

"Buy one, get three free." You said, watching the absolute giant of man look at you all worried as if there was something wrong with him.

John was stunned, looking at you as if you grew an extra head.

"What? You thought I'd agree to meet and flirt with you, knowing I won't get with a single parent?" You said, scooting closer to him, resting your chin on your palm and looking at him through your pretty eyelashes.

"I don't know if this is of any help, but I'm the oldest of 4 children, and my youngest sibling is 15 years younger than me. So little kids don't scare me, trust me." You said, puffing your chest as if you were a decorated soldier with veteran experience in taking care of little shits.

John cracked a small smile, "I'm sure you're a great older sister."

"I try my best." You humbly said, bowing your head and John chuckled again.

"So, how about we go for a walk and you can tell me all about your workout routine, you can't be the only one looking like a much hotter version of Superman." You said and John all but agreed.

And you do go for a walk, and chat about everything and anything. and you have so much fun that John forgets what time it is for a bit and gets surprised when his alarm rings and he has to go pick up his kids from school.

You say bye to each other and he says how he's going to invite you and Johnny over for a hangout with his other guys back at his place.

So you do go, you keep meeting him, and you eventually meet his kids, and they're lovely, polite and wary of you at first, because they're still very young and are children to parents who don't like or love each other like most parents do.

So you try your best to approach them in the best way possible, and decide to tell them nothing but the truth and talk to them like you'd talk to adults.

So when you start seeing their dad, he tells them one night over dinner, just the, and you also confirm it to them when you get invited over, "I like your father.

And his boys look up from their legos and his little girl stops flying a dinosaur in the air right before she crashes it on a city made out of blocks and barbie dolls.

"We know." The twins say at the same time and they shrug, resuming their play.

"Dinosaur?" The little girl hands you another dinosaur, and you nod, and take it from her little hand.

"Dinosaur." You repeat and you watch her dive the dinosaur's head to a barbie's head and act like he was eating the barbie, so you did the same thing, with added sound effects.

You don't expect the children to call you mum, you aren't overly friendly with them or force your friendship on them. You give them space, time and respect. And John seems to be incredibly grateful for it, even if he doesn't comment on it, but his eyes and smiles say enough.

Things slowly evolve, and the children start asking for you when you're not around.

"Dad, where's your friend?" One of his boys asked him on the way to get ice cream after school.

"You mean dad's girlfriend." The other twin corrects his brother.

"Are you boyfriend girlfriend?" His little girl asks.

"She's busy with work at the moment, and we're not dating, not yet, at least." John says.

"Not yet?"

"Why?"

"But we saw you kiss in the kitchen!"

"Please be boyfriend girlfriend! She's nice and she's better at helping us with homework than you!"

So John is now stuck in his car, being roasted by his children on their way to get ice-cream, and he shuts them up when he tells them they won't officially date until all of them like you.

Which they obviously already do and they agree very quickly.

So Price takes you out on a date, to officially ask you out, with his children as some sort of witnesses and official welcome to their family.

They're in a nice italian restaurant, nothing too fancy, and he's wearing a light blue button up with a pair of slacks that do more than justice to his legs and hips. And he looks so so nice, hair brushed back and beard trimmed and oiled up, and he has a watch on his wrist and a bracelet his little girl made him on the other hand.

His little boys are wearing button up shirts in different colours and slacks, and his little girl is wearing a blue dress with a dinosaur pin on her hair, keeping her curls away from her face. And as soon as you show up, her face lights up and she excitedly shows you her dress, spinning around, and telling you that's "It's blue! Like your favourite colour! Like dad's favourite colour!" And she also shows you the dinosaur hairpin and you all but melt and tell her how pretty she looks, and how handsome his boys look.

"You also look very handsome." You smile at John and he blushes a bit, taking your hands in his while his children watch with wide curious eyes.

"And you look very beautiful, darling." He says and you bat your eyelashes at him, "Thank you."

He kisses the back of your hands and he pulls your chair out for you to sit, and you grin and sit down. And then the children all start talking at the same time, about what they'd like to order and what you should try and what they think you'd like, so obviously they have been here before and it's a family favourite.

John tells his little gremlins to calm down and you guys start by ordering drinks and some breadsticks, then he actually has a whole speech prepared about how he's been very happy with you and would love for you to officially join their family.

And while he's saying his speech, his eyes never leaving yours, you don't notice one of his boys holding a small piece of paper under the table and nodding along to his dad's words, and the other twin holding a up thumbs up to show that John is saying everything he's written down.

While John’s little girl somehow pulled a small dinosaur toy out of nowhere and is making it sit on the table and watch you both.

"I'd love to be your girlfriend, and join your family, John." You say when John's done and his children all cheer at the same time, making some people from other tables glance at you.

"Congratulations." The twins say at the time, shaking your hand and their father's in quite a formal manner, making you giggle, "Thank you, gentlemen."

"Can we eat now?" John's little girl asks, and nobody asks why she had shoved tissue inside her dinosaur's mouth, probably mimicking feeding it.

John laughs and nods, "Yes, we can."

tag list (pls ask to be added or removed): @obiwankenobis-lap @goapgrim @smalldemonlover @silviafantin15 @reveluving @bobastayhigh @originalsimp @h-leigh @gxldyjess @msdrpreist @chaoticevilbakugo @Lacunaanonymoused @whore4dilfs

[we-stan-the-stans-27]

Dead Asleep AU?

Okay, so I kind of wanted to write another part/version of that sleeping beauty AU from the other week. But this time, Stanley is the one who gets too suffer! HAHAH!

So, here is part two. Also, I posted both parts up on my Ao3 account and I'll link it here if you want to save it for later or whatever.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62066953/chapters/158737552#main

And of course, I'm going to @sixerstanley again! Because this was their idea. Now. Let's get into being evil. Heheh.

(I had most of this done on the tenth, but then I basically died and couldn't finish. So, enjoy. That live stream was like crack or something. Idk guys.) (P.P.S. Gonna post this on its own now because I don't think anyone saw it when I reposted it attached to the old post. Rightfully so. That shit was long as hell.)

Truth be told all of Stan Pines favorite and happiest memories took place on a boat. It didn't matter if it was on some crappy litter scattered beach.

It was theirs and nothing could soil those memories. Back then all that mattered was the hot burning sand, maybe the stings of glass cuts across a sole, and tumbling along getting hurt, hand in hand.

Sure, it took forty damn years to get back there, but he's anything if not stubborn. And it paid off.

What's that saying? 'Most gamblers call it quits right before striking it big?'

Good thing he never stopped betting with higher and higher stakes then, right?

The future is much brighter because of it. The deck of the ship has a sharp bite to it now. From one extreme to the next. A hot infected wound, now soothed by a cold compress.

The arctic Ocean.

There isn't a lot in the area for fishing, but there is still plenty of wildlife to watch from the top deck if your patient.

Late at night the sky lights up with the northern lights, or 'Aurora Borealis' if you speak blabbering scientist. It's beautiful and a new flavor of Ford's favorite activity, Stargazing.

Out at sea there is no better place for it without any light pollution. Just them, the universe, and the expansive inky blackness below.

Sitting out on the deck, fish watching with a pair of binoculars, the world is practically blinding this time of the afternoon. The white overcast clouds mixed with the occasional chunk of ice covered in snow lights up the world like being inside a light bulb.

That's not what pulls Stanley's attention from the endless water he's been looking at all morning though. Finally, he sees something!

Off the starboard side from where they've been anchored a group of Narwhals is swimming by, long tusks poking out of the water and interrupting the sleek outline of the waves.

"Sixer, get the hell up here!" He knows his brother won't be nearly as excited about seeing this marvel as he is, but Stan still wants to share it with him anyway.

Just because Ford saw a million different impossible things through the portal doesn't mean whales aren't interesting too. Sure, not what they're hanging out waiting for, but who cares?

When Stanley can't hear Ford immediately running up the stairs, no big surprise if stuck in a book, he stomps on the floor of the deck without looking away from the water. Grinning like an idiot.

"Stanford Pines, get up here! I'm having a heart attack!" Okay, yeah. It's not funny. But that never fails to get him top side no matter what he's in the middle of.

'Boy who cried wolf' Yack! Yack! Whatever. If it works, why fix it?

There are at least ten different Narwhals intermittently breaching for air but the sight is incredibly short lived before they dive again on another breath hold, disappearing from sight below the grey waves.

"Awe, too slow! You missed it!" His booming voice is the only sound on the ship and it makes Stan finally drop the glasses and get up out of his chair with a crack from both knees.

He stomps, again, and then listens with a little more attention to the ship.

There is the lapping of the waves against the side, the slight breeze blowing the fresh smell of sea salt over the vessel, but otherwise its quiet.

Hmm. He could stay up here, maybe even pretend to fall over and really scare his brother. Except the last time he did that Ford almost threw him overboard into the freezing cold water.

Still. It is a little weird that Ford didn't at least yell a few foreign curse words up through the ship.

"Alright, fine. You want to prank me back? I'll bite." It comes out in a mutter and Stan makes his way across the deck after one more glance around at the water.

Through the wheel house, down the steep steps, and around the corner into the room dubbed 'the office' only in the name on the door. It's a glorified science lab that Stan gets to store a shelf of books inside of.

Pushing open the door is a little challenging, like something is blocking it but after a minute of shoving he's able to get enough room to squeeze through to get a look around.

Yep. This is 100% a prank.

The thing blocking the door? Ford, leaning back and looking pretty limp. Stan has got to hand it to him, this is a really convincing look.

"Nice try genius, laying around on the floor isn't going to convince me. Come on, up we go." It takes a lot more work than it should to move Ford from the floor up into the single chair in here.

The only real dead bodies Stan has ever seen have been bloody from being murdered or covered in vomit thanks to overdosing on something. Lots of blood, bruises, stomach acid and empty eyes stained with their last moments.

Ford's open, blank ones, do cause a little bit of alarm, but. It's how damn cold his body is that brings the first real taste of concern to the forefront of his mind.

"I thought I told you to turn on the space heater periodically. You have bad enough circulation as is, you idiot." Ford is very cold, and limp just like a dead body, and his eyes-

To humor Ford, and to reassure himself, Stan does a big show of rolling his eyes and then putting two fingers to Ford's wrist. You can't hide having a pulse, genius.

"................................................................................................................"

Okay. Maybe you can hide a pulse on one arm, if you cut off circulation. Whatever, big whoop?

Stan shifts over to check the other wrist and lets out a tisk of annoyance before raising those same fingers up to Ford's neck.

Same result.

Huh.

Now that's a neat trick.

Ford is doing a really good job pretending not to breathe too.

A really really good job.

That's bad.

"Alright Sixer, good one. I've learned my lesson here, you can undo whatever witchcraft you used to manage this." His confidence that this is a joke is cracking with every second Ford doesn't hop up and start lecturing him.

That's what should be happening. Another long rant about how pretending to be injured or sick isn't funny, not a good way to get attention, and unnecessary.

Yeah. Stan knows all that.

Ford does come topside, eventually, whenever he yells. It's just-

Sometimes Ford gets a little too caught up in his work and needs to be reminded the rest of the world exists. Extremes are the easiest way to do that.

And, yeah. Stanley can admit in the safety of his own head that he enjoys the fretting Ford does, despite knowing it’s a false alarm. It's been a long time since someone cared about him enough for something like that.

Or maybe those memories are what decided not to come back. Eh, his life seems pretty sad. Makes sense.

What doesn't, however, is why Ford is doing this for so long.

Plain and simple, he wouldn't.

But, that would mean something so terrible that his mind still won't accept it.

Because Ford can't be dead. That's not possible. They had this conversation.

Before leaving Gravity Falls, they had a really long and difficult talk about health issues. Ford came up with game plans for emergencies, Stanley had to own up to his numerous health issues, and how does Stanley know with complete certainty his brother can't be dead?

Bill said so.

Ford isn't supposed to die until he's ninety-two of a heart attack.

Now, Stan doesn't trust that demon on much. Or anything. Except this.

Because Bill liked Ford to an uncomfortable degree, otherwise he'd be dead right now. Or, would have at some point during the apocalypse.

So. The devil must have been telling the truth on this one thing, right?

Ford had seemed pretty sure that he wasn't going to be the one needing healthcare at sea, solidifying the belief in Stan's own mind. If Ford wasn't worried, why should he? He's a genius!

But-

What if Bill did lie? Tricking them into a false sense of security only for Ford to drop dead one day. Honestly? That does sound more his style.

Except, it can't be today.

It just can't.

Because if Ford is dead-

That's not a possibility Stanley Pines has ever considered for so much as a millisecond.

Not when Ford went through the portal.

Not for thirty years during the rebuilding process.

Not even prior to rescuing him from Bill and saving the world.

Because he can't imagine a world without Stanford Pines.

Sure, he's been gone before. Missing, but he came back from the portal and they eventually fixed things. They're okay now.

That was six weeks ago.

And, yeah, they still fight, but that's normal. Expected, living so closely after so long apart.

Stan has found himself frozen standing next to the chair simply staring down at Ford waiting for-

The joke to end? The camera crew to jump out? Ford himself to come in from the other room telling him this is a dummy or clone?

That spurs him back into action, rushing out of the room. "You aren't funny, Stanford Filbrick Pines! When I find you, I'm going to give you the worst wedgie in the multiverse!"

There are really only four places Ford could be hiding, given his size. Their bedroom underneath the bunk beds, the bathroom, the tiny kitchen pantry, or the engine room.

The kitchen pantry is bare, as expected. It’s a pretty shitty hiding spot.

Looking underneath the bed is tricky, but he isn't under there either.

The bathroom shower is clear too and he leaves the lights on, doors open, as he yanks the tiny half-sized door to peer into the almost crawlspace-sized room-

Empty.

For good measure Stanley does a second, and third, lap of the ship from the deck all the way back through leaving no chance for his brother to be sneaking around hiding.

In the end he still lands back in the office, leaning against the wall, looking at his brother's freezing cold and lifeless body.

Dead, body-

Nope, nope, nope! Ford can't be dead, he can't be.

Instead of looking at 'Ford' Stan looks around the room at anything else in search of answers. There's a stack of books and some science doohickey on the desk, but that's not all.

When first entering the room, Ford was laying on the floor back against the door. The chair was sideways, almost like he'd fallen out of it.

Down on the floor is a small collection of scattered papers.

It certainly looks like-

"Nope. Not happening." I'm not going to entertain it, not going to think about it. Ford is cold and being an idiot.

Stan busies himself with gathering up the scattered papers off the floor and organizing them on the desk and-

Ford's phone.

Before leaving port they'd both gone out and bought one at the behest of Dipper and Mabel. For taking pictures, calling, texting, and use of the internet.

They have this thing called a 'hot spot' that allows them to use the internet on their laptop for video calls and such. Ford usually sets that up and Stan gets the call going.

Neither of them knows the full process, so they have to work together.

Finding it discarded on the floor fits with the scene Ford has laid out trying to play dead. It's all very convincing, really.

But all that panic and worry remains buried deep, because what else is there?

Losing Ford would probably give him a heart attack, for real, right about now.

So. It's pretty concerning to see the phone open, wasting the battery, to their text chain.

It looks like Ford tried sending him a text up above deck.

'Stanley, I require medical assistance, follow protocol 32-C. Thank you. -Stanford Pines'

Except the text never went through, that red bubble with the exclamation mark 'Not delivered' is obvious enough for even Stanley to see.

Okay. There isn't any ignoring that.

Why? Ford was right here, why didn't he yell or come upstairs, or knock on the ceiling for fucks sake?

Except it does look like Ford might have tried to leave the room-

Real, honest panic claws its way up into the center of his chest from where he's kneeling on the floor looking at the text that didn't go through.

Maybe it was never a heart attack, could've been a stroke-

This text is pretty long and lacking spelling mistakes though, like all the other messages Ford has ever written.

His last words.

"Stanford..." It comes out broken and he ignored the complaints of the floor in the rush to get up, still clutching the phone, and across the room to his brother.

Idiot! Stupid, God damn idiot!

Instead of helping him for one fucking second you decided to play hide and seek!

Nope, we aren't going to cry. Not now, nope. Doesn't matter that there isn't anyone around to-

Nope!

Pulling Ford down onto the floor to assess him is easy with how limp he is and Stan makes quick work of pulling off his gloves in search of-

Something.

There still isn't a pulse, but the skin along each wrist and the neck feels colder than it did earlier. Stan's hands are shaking like he's going through withdrawals, trembling.

Focus.

Despite what his brother might think, he did in fact take the time to review the procedures stored in their extensive first aid kits. Not because any of them are helpful here though.

Ford put that together with Stan exclusively in mind.

What to do in the case of a heart attack, stroke, aneurysms, seizures, and all the small things too. Stuff for stitches, concussions, burns, and there is one small pamphlet on amputations.

The reason he took the time to review them was to put together his own plans, just in case.

If this is a heart attack he can't use to stupid paddles on Ford because of his metal plate. Besides, who knows what kind of effects that might have if it is a stroke-

He's already dead-

"Shut up! Just, shut up. He isn't, not until I say so!" The yell echoes back inside the claustrophobic room. The boat has never felt so painfully small-

CPR it is then.

Thirty-two C is essentially an undefined chest pain. Aspirin, monitoring, and high tailing it to the closest port.

Hard to do any of that when Ford can't breathe, much less swallow. And, you know, being three hours from the closest dock doesn't help either.

Stan has wasted too much time fussing and being useless as is. He knows how to do this. Where the hands go, the rhythm needed and the right amount of pressure to apply. How often to force Ford to take air.

This gives his hands something useful to do, his mind something to focus on instead of pure white-hot panic.

Because that's what he feels.

There is only one thing he could never protect Ford from, himself.

Sickness, and eventually death fall into that same category because the body does those things without considering what you want. Old age would come for his brother someday, regardless of how anyone feels about it.

Stanley had always assumed- no, made damn sure -that he wouldn't outlive his brother.

Because he can't be the one to carry on. That is a world he wants no part in.

He realizes, a while into doing compressions, that he should have consulted a clock before starting to try and keep track of how long he's been doing this.

Whatever, like it really matters.

Stanley continues anyway, long past when his arms started to burn and past hearing two different ribs crack.

What makes him stop is when he physically can't catch his own air enough to continue.

He is, understandably, a mess.

Snot smeared between both faces, tears across the front of Ford's shirt and cheeks, and Stanley himself can't breathe, chest tight and wracked with sobs.

Even if Ford did have a heartbeat Stanley knows he wouldn't be able to feel it because of how badly his hands are trembling and how fast blood is rushing in his own ears.

Six god damn weeks. Is that really all we got? All that time, all those mistakes? So much wasted all because I couldn't control myself for five fucking seconds!

"I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry Stanford." It comes out choked, barely real words around his chests arguing efforts to sound like a dying animal and take in enough oxygen to avoid meeting his own end.

The pile of regrets is immeasurable, but not so much about the past.

They've done that song and dance, so those aren't the thoughts that tear into him now.

So many things missed that still need to be made up for.

Christmas. New Years. Drunk nights out. Their birthday for fucks sake!

Now they'll never get to share that, ever again. Forever Seventeen.

Just-

Being together again.

Joking together.

Together!

Not apart.

Haven't they had enough of that? Wasn't four cursed decades of loneliness plenty?

Guess time has a funny sense of humor.

Or the world just hates him specifically.

Stanley Pines isn't allowed to be happy, hopefully everyone got the memo!

He can't remember ever crying so hard or for nearly as long ever in his whole life. Countless nights spent breaking down in the basement, slumped over the desk in the upstairs office, or camped out in some slum across the back seat of the car are nothing in comparison.

Lying across Ford's chest feels unnatural. It's too cold, too still-

Wrong.

It's like someone just broke one of the fundamental laws of physics here in their office and Stanley can't handle it.

When he finally manages to pull away a crazed laugh bubbles up and out into the room without permission.

There is nothing funny about this, but it seems to have a mind of its own, running away with his vocal cords.

What the hell else is he supposed to do? His whole world just died. Ford might as well of snuffed out the sun, causing the whole universe to go out with it. All that's left are stars.

Memories.

That's not fair. None of this is, and he knows that life ain't fair. Why would it be now? Of course it wouldn't, but-

"Why?! Why now, huh?! You couldn't of waited ten fucking minutes? At least let me be here with you? I could of done something useful for once! But no, I always have to fail! It's the only thing I'm good at!"

The humor vanishes, the hysterics of it washed away by anger and grief.

He ends up sitting back on his ass with knees drawn up with both arms wrapped around them, just like when they were kids.

What is he supposed to do?

Ford's dead. Stanford is dead. Sixer is dead. My twin brother is dead-

Repeating the same thought doesn't make him feel any better. If anything, it makes the shaking ten times worse. Unsteady hands, trembling shoulders-

He's shivering all over, goosebumps caused by something other than the cold.

"God, i really am a failure. Can't argue with me now, huh? You died, fifteen feet away from me and-" He can't look at Ford like this anymore, so he brings up a hand to cover his face while trying to regulate his own awful breathing.

Who cares? Why does it matter? Why bother calming down if Ford's dead?

As much as he'd like to give up, because it would be incredibly easy to do so, Stan knows he can't. Not now.

Okay. Deep even breathes.

In. One, two, three, four, five.

Out. One, two, three, four five.

It takes several tries to manage getting past two, but it gets a little easier to stop feeling so light headed the more he focuses on it

He can't give up, because like it or not-

Why not?

Because of the kids? Because of Soos? How exactly would they feel to find out both of us were brought into port dead by the coast guard? Two funerals to attend.

Although they would probably do them together-

That's a nice thought.

Nope, we aren't encouraging that!

"Alright, come on. Get it together. You know what to do..." That doesn't make it easier.

Back up. First onto both knees, then both feet.

Unlike moving Ford into the chair, dragging him around, Stanley takes more care lifting Ford up over one shoulder to carry him from the office across the boat into the bedroom.

Laying him out on the bottom bunk, tucked into the blankets, it looks like he's just sleeping.

Despite barely doing anything Stanley is exhausted already. Arms sore, his back is going to be killing him tomorrow from picking up all that dead weight, so he settles on the edge of the mattress. Just for a minute.

There was once a day when the gun would, metaphorically, already be in his hand.

The world hadn't exactly been kind to him. Not growing up. Not on the road. Not even fully in Gravity Falls. Sure, it was home, but the basement was its own form of torture and suffering.

All of that was supposed to stay off the boat.

Land was pain, the ocean was perfect.

Or at least he'd thought so. If death was going to come for them, taking them into the ranks of lives lost at sea, they were supposed to go down together.

It's tempting. More tempting than ever before.

"I'm sorry." He can't turn and look at Ford, but the presence of his body is comforting in a weird way. Just don't think about how-

"I know you keep telling me I don't need to be, and that we're all good, but I really am. I'm the reason we lost so much time, so maybe it’s just that I have to live with that until my heart gives out." These are the kinds of things he'd never say if Ford was really here.

Or in front of anyone, but what's the harm now? Might as well get it out now before heading back.

From there Ford will be carted off to the closest morgue, body probably cremated, leaving Stanley to bring the ash remains home.

"Maybe I was a damn fool to think I could have it all. Should have known it was too good to be true. I can't-" He has to stop to take several deep full breaths before pushing on.

"I can't do this. Thirty years, forty, all alone. Ruined, and now-"

Things were good, fantastic, for fucks sake!

Having someone to cook and clean with. To get annoyed at when they hog the bathroom. Pointless arguments, bickering, but always getting over it.

It was domestic in a way he'd always wanted but never allowed himself. Always afraid anyone who got close would leave.

In a way, Ford did. Not intentionally, but he did walk right back out the door just like everyone else. Who knows, maybe it would have happened sooner or later anyway.

"I-I know I wasn't great to live with. I'm a pain in the ass screw-up and I guess that's all I'll ever be." Failing to notice something was seriously wrong sooner, not hearing any noises his brother might have made, not getting that text-

Overshadows saving the world. It doesn't matter if the sun keeps rising if his brother isn't here to see it.

He doesn't really know what's considered 'normal behavior' around a corpse. It might be incredibly weird of him to decide to sit up against the wall at the head of the bunk and get Ford situated laying back against his chest, repositioning the blankets.

Stan finds he doesn't care either way. If his brother is dead, the love of his life, he's going to sit with him for a little while before his body gets all stiff and gross and corpsey.

It'll take about two hours, give or take, before then.

Other than the bed being cold it’s not hard to pretend things are okay. Stan's own breathing moves Ford with each inhale and exhale in the otherwise quiet room.

They're both to old to be cuddling, but who's around to judge him? The next closest human is miles away and Ford...

He doesn't really get a say anymore.

Stan lets out a sad and exhausted chuckle, shaking his head and tucking his face down into Ford's hair while keeping both arms tight across his brother’s chest.

It smells of sweat, sea salt, and something chemically that makes his nose burn a little. He needs a shower, gross bastard.

"You have no idea how much I'm going to miss you, Sixer. No fucking clue how much I love you."

Never, ever, would Stan dare be so open in front of anyone, much less his equally emotionally constipated brother. But it’s not like he's going to be able to say all this stuff in front of people.

Not when he heads back to Gravity Falls, tail between his legs. Much less at the funeral.

"I mean, you had to know. One person doesn't dedicate a lifetime to fixing a mistake like that if they don't give a shit. But, well, you know."

He's a corpse Stan, he doesn't know anything. Not anymore.

"It was never the boat. I didn't care that you wanted to go to school. I didn't care about taking the journal. I didn't even care about you being a pretentious asshole. Okay, maybe I did care about that last one a little." It's the first genuine laugh Stan's let out since finding Ford.

"It was the separation I had a problem with. We could have been enlisted in the military for all I cared, as long as we did it together. Talk about codependent, am I right?"

His arms are tired from doing compressions so instead of continuing to hug Ford in a vice grip he settles for holding one of his hands instead.

Cuddling, weird but not outside of things they've done before. Usually after or because of nightmares.

Hugging is practically a daily occurrence at this point, sometimes multiple times depending on the itinerary Ford's always got in his stupid head.

But this, holding hands, isn't something they've done since they were kids.

Hopefully, Filbrick found a special space in hell for yelling at them until they stopped. He was right, socially, of course. But Stan can't help holding a grudge regardless. As if Ford needed more negative press about his perfect hands.

They're cold but Stan pointedly ignores that in favor of savoring the moment.

"It was good we spent time apart, in its own stupid way. Not because either of us had a good time or anything, but we finally grew up. Eventually. Just took the world ending for you to get your ego checked." It's nice having Ford lying back against his chest, their hands intertwined over Ford's cold one under the blanket.

It's sad, and temporary, but better than nothing at all.

You take what you get and you don't throw a fit.

"But hey, it wasn't all bad." Looking around the room the proof is right here. "We did it, eventually. We had some fun, stole some treasure. Never did get any babes though, but-"

The wall closest to the door is covered in a large cork board covered in pictures from the camera Soos gifted them as a housewarming present before leaving port. Original pictures of them back in Jersey pinned at the top with their adventures detailed in the ones below, picking up decades later.

He sighs, bringing up his free hand to straighten out Ford's hair. It's always a rat’s nest. "I was never as worried about that part as I probably should have been, because I-"

Dead or not, is this really the kind of thing he should be saying out loud?

The things he's saying aren't really for Ford, they're for Stanley's own benefit anyway. "Well, heh. You see, about that...I, uh. Really only had interest in getting one babe on board." He squeezes Ford's hand for emphasis, like he's listening.

But even Stan can't help bursting out into laughter at his awful joke, managing to avoid letting out more than a couple tears. "Oh god, that's terrible. I'm terrible, I know. But, you never had to worry about that. You being here is more then I could've asked for. No sense betting it on the bonus word and getting left at a dock when things where good as is."

There. It's out there, in the room, shared with someone who can never tell his worst secret. That wasn't so bad now, was it?

"As it was, I guess. Still can't believe you're gone and our adventure is over before it really got started." It's a somber thought, but he leaves it at that.

What else is there to say?

Time passes, only marked by the slight darkening of the clouds outside the boat and the ticking of Stanley's watch.

He keeps saying 'five more minutes' but that started up about two hours ago. It's been nearly three since settling into bed. His back hurts from staying in the same position, fingers cramped, but he still doesn't want to get up.

That means letting go. He isn't ready for that.

Probably never will be either.

It must be the cold keeping Ford from getting all stiff like dead people should because he's still just as limp and relaxed as when he first died. That thought makes him wince.

"Alright. As fun as this is, I should probably get up and bring us back to port before it gets dark." He says it like Ford will be able to encourage him to do so, like the corpse is going to hold him accountable.

Except, it can't.

Stan finds the willpower to get up and off the bed anyway, leaving Ford tucked in, and heading out into the hallway that is the kitchen and dining room.

Next step is getting back to port, calling the local authorities, and explaining what the hell happened. That won't be fun. None of this is.

He only gets as far as the kitchen before having to sit down.

Who is he kidding? This is impossible. How the hell is he supposed to do any of this?

No matter how hard he tries to cling to the fact that he has other family, because Stanley knows full well how much the kids and Soos care for him, that doesn't make the suddenly unbearable weight on both shoulders any lighter.

The boat is suffocating, cold, and it’s only going to get worse.

When Ford had gone through the portal it was easy enough to rationalize his feelings of hopelessness away using pure denial. Can't be sure Ford is dead if you can't see him.

And yeah, he'd been right, though on all accounts he shouldn't have been.

Stan can't do that here because Ford is very clearly dead and gone.

All those years he'd already been through the first several stages of grief periodically. Denial, anger, and bargaining but had always gotten stuck in the second to last step. Depression.

If people can get past that one, they usually reach acceptance and from there, it’s all about finding a way to live with it.

I can't do that.

How on earth am I supposed to after everything? So many mistakes, miscommunications, lost time, and for what? For it to end here?

What the hell am I supposed to do? Pack it up, return to Gravity Falls, and drink myself to death?

That's probably what he would have done if Ford hadn't been able to make it home. If he'd actually been dead for thirty years and all that effort was for nothing.

It doesn't take much to make up his mind. It’s only a matter of when, not a matter of if.

The painful silence of the ship is interrupted by his watch beeping at him several times, indicating it’s time for his blood pressure medications.

This watch is considerably uglier than his gold one, but its water proof and has some fancy alarm and timer settings.

Ford set it up to remind him.

He all but collapses in on himself with tears escaping easier than before in the office.

This was all he ever wanted, for someone to give a damn about him and now the only person who ever did is gone!

No more bickering about who used all the hot water. Complaining about who's turn it is to handle the laundry. Doing dishes together.

No more laughing, cracking jokes, or arguing over what to have for dinner.

"I can't do this, I'm not strong enough for that." His voice is choked, barely above a whisper.

His own feet bring him to the first aid kit fastened to the wall above the toilet in the bathroom. It's where any medications they might need are kept from ibuprofen to some other more questionable alien junk of Ford's.

Nutrition pills are not a substitute for real food, even when you’re sick of fish Stanford.

Down on the bottom shelf right next to the Aspirin and Tylenol is where his stupid medication is to take-

Except currently there is a small and simple letter propped up on the shelf blocking the several bottles there with 'For Stanley Pines' on the front in neat and actually legible cursive handwriting.

He looks around the bathroom, almost comically, because he really has lost it.

Maybe he actually had his own medical problem while trying to do chest compressions and now he's a ghost or something?

Because this looks like Ford left him a letter right inside their medicine cabinet.

Except he's dead in the other room.

After picking up the letter, and taking his stupid meds, Stan goes back to the bedroom to double-check that the corpse hasn't managed to go anywhere in the last ten minutes.

Nope. Still there.

Okay.... Well, might as well read it then?

He closes the bedroom door first and goes about straightening up the million open doors and all the unnecessary lights left on this whole time, settling against one of the kitchen counters and tearing the envelope open with his pocket knife.

'To Stanley,

If you are reading this letter then you must be in the throes of panic at the moment. As I know well, it’s not very fun to have a brother who continues to terrify you with health scares. I have tried discussing this with you several times, but clearly, you don't fully understand.

Perhaps this spook, over a supposed 'blocked blood vessel', will set the record straight. I do not find your jokes about 'keeling over' to be amusing. Waking me up purposefully drooping one half of your body also isn't funny.

It is for these many reasons I've devised a plan to scare you, briefly. The serum I gave myself to cause the presentation of symptoms should have no permanent or ill health effects. However, it does eventually result in a loss of consciousness, so you will need to administer the antidote.

It is tapped to the roof of our fridge and kept at the appropriate cool temperature until it is ready to be used, with the dosage already measured out in a previously prepared needle. Any vein will do, though it may take some time to circulate and take-"

Stanley doesn't bother finishing the stupid list of instructions Ford may have left him filling out the rest of the letter. In fact, he can't even bring himself to be mad right this second about Ford torturing him like this.

He's alive. That's all that matters.

It’s a rush of slamming open doors, making a mess of the top shelf of the fridge, before Stan is able to find the supposed needle right where the letter said it would be. Back to the bedroom he yanks on the light, tearing off the blanket.

"I knew it, I fucking knew it-"

Or at least he hopes this is real and not some hallucination caused by grief. Seems a little too good to be true, but he'd be willing to gamble on giving Ford sulfuric acid if he left a note saying so right about now.

Sure enough, by the time Stanley is able to yank Ford's closer sleeve up he can see a big X drawn with a sharpie over the vein along the interior of the arm where you'd have blood taken. Or shoot up heroin.

How long does he have to give the antidote? Could it be too late? That letter was probably supposed to be opened hours ago.

Whatever.

No time like the present.

He's done this plenty of times on himself, so it’s not hard.

Using one of Ford's ties out of the closet (a ridiculous thing to bring on a boat) he's able to create a tourniquet without having to go back to the bathroom.

The cap gets removed with his teeth and once the vein is visible, he carefully presses the needle in under the skin before pushing down the plunger and injecting whatever the weird black medication is.

Only after putting the needle aside does he run off to get dressings and gauze to patch up the injection sight and stop the bleeding. The same amount you'd expect from a live body.

A weird sense of euphoria takes hold in the time it takes to secure the gauze over the injection site with some medical tape.

And a little bit of hope.

Rightfully, he should be beyond pissed. What the hell was Ford thinking in the first place? Okay, yeah. They suck at talking, and he hadn't been the most open to Ford's previous complaints about his 'death jokes' and such.

Dark humor. But he hadn't expected Ford to do something this extreme in retaliation.

Talk about a prank war getting out of hand.

This is worse than when they got into a closet territory war in high school and it had ended with them both getting yelled at, and grounded, when some itching powder accidentally ended up in the wrong laundry.

Later he can be upset, but right now Ford will probably be waking up in enough pain over his own stupid choices. Being given CPR is a rather violent experience, his chest is going to hurt considerably for a long while.

That's revenge enough, and-

Okay, maybe you could consider this lesson learned.

Stanley is left to wait, with bated breath, for Ford to wake up.

It's pretty safe for Ford to say that this whole experience turned out to be a lot more traumatizing than it should have been.

Maybe he was a bit of a dick, planning on scaring Stanley a little, but that's all. Just a tiny scare to get his brother to stop being so-

Difficult, let's go with that.

Pain in the ass would be more accurate

Regardless, absolutely nothing had gone to plan and it had very nearly ended in the worst possible way. Him dead, and Stanley heart broken.

What was supposed to happen was pretty simple.

Starting with sending the text, which Stanley would get above deck. Meanwhile, below deck, Ford would cast the spell meant to slow his pulse to an unsteady rate on top of accelerating his breathing. Mimicking something close to a heart attack.

Just for a little scare, with no real consequences.

Then Stanley would come downstairs, freak out, but follow the procedure.

Which is when he would have found the letter, stopping the whole scene before everything got so out of hand. Easy.

But, no.

The text hadn't gone through, because their signal was spotty at best out here.

No problem, because the spell does technically leave a window before putting you into stasis.

Or, it’s supposed to.

Thirty-two and a half seconds isn't nearly enough time to do anything useful, as Ford found out the hard way.

The results were him being left waiting on the floor for Stanley to find him and being left fully aware of every second without being able to do anything to stop it.

Having chest compressions done when your heart is fine, just old, is not fun. Very not fun. One of the more painful experiences he can admit to participating in.

This whole thing, in fact, is up there with one of the top five worst moments in his life.

All because Stanley wouldn't listen!

No, it's because you’re an idiot who seems to only know how to hurt your own brother-

Shut up!

That's not helping anything.

The slow-to-restart heart rate, which never fully stopped, is more painful because of the time left lying around. Not a surprising response to his apparent death, but-

Two broken ribs, and some pretty bad bruising, but otherwise physically he'll be fine.

Just as soon as every vein stops burning from the antidote.

Truly that's a just punishment for the time he's left waiting after feeling the injection up until he's able to breathe and move again.

There is a lot that he could unpack here, but that would involve facing everything that he just caused. Which is terrible.

Better to focus on the one damn good thing to come out of this whole mess.

Stanley loves him.

Not only in the 'brotherly love' kind of way, but it certainly sounded like it had been implied romantically, hadn't it?

The spell or the cold he'd been experiencing couldn't have made up a hallucination like that.

It's logical if you think about it.

Stanley was under the impression he was dead, so why not own up to all kinds of gross and sappy crap? Taking time to mourn everything that was, could have, and is.

Brother, best friend, and-

Lover is a rather big leap to make from some simple implications on their own, but-

Was it two or three hours of straight-up cuddling and holding hands?

That might be as much evidence as Stanley would ever willingly provide without being physically tortured out of it.

Knowing that his own feelings are returned is actually worse than being trapped inside your own skin, because what the hell is he supposed to do with this information?

If they can't talk about Stanley no longer making jokes, how is he supposed to bring this up in a way that doesn't make his brother jump off the boat to drown?

Ford can't help but let out a quiet pained groan with the first gasp of air, taking away the option of saying something first thing.

It's better than screaming, which is what he feels like doing from the pain.

Not the first time an experiment resulted in such poor results, it'll be fine.

"Stanley," is the first thing Ford forces himself to say just as soon as it’s not going to come out sounding too pained. As if either of them needs to feel worse at the moment.

Stan hadn't so much as gotten up off the bed after dressing the injection. He brought up a hand to steady Ford when he tried to sit up too fast. "Woah, take it easy there, Sixer. The world's not going anywhere."

Now is not the time for jokes, Stanley. This isn't funny.

His brother’s ability to compartmentalize traumatic events and the emotions associated with them is astounding. Must be a shared trait.

Trying to talk is like swallowing tacks but he managed to make a motion towards the water bottle they kept hanging from a hook above the bedside table halfway between their bunks.

Relief was about all Stanley could feel getting up only enough to grab the water bottle for Ford before settling back next to him on the bed.

He's still cold, but very much alive.

It's visible in the tense set of Ford's shoulders when he's awake, the crease and possibly only wrinkle on his whole stupid perfect face between his brow from worrying or fretting over something, and the strong grasp around the bottle when taking a drink.

It's almost enough to make him cry again, except Ford is awake now, so he keeps a better lid on those feelings by shoving them back in a closet. Hugging Ford as soon as he's had a drink also allows for a good expression of his worries while actively hiding any stupid emotions (or tears) his face could be doing against his will.

No matter how much it physically hurts (maybe at least one of those ribs is broken, rather than cracked) Ford wholeheatedly returns it while trying to lubricate his mouth and throat enough to say something, anything, useful.

"Did it work at least? Do you understand now how physically upsetting it is to have you faking health scares? That pure terror is what I feel every single time, regardless of if you’re kidding. It's not funny." His voice is still ruined and dry with an edge of ache, but audible.

Stan lets out a dry chuckle, but it's forced and tight. "Yeah, yeah. Alright, you got me. But for the record, I knew it was a sham. I could smell it from a mile away!"

Both eyes are also a little dry from the extensive time spent open up until Stan closed them, which gives a good excuse for why he blinks at Stan like an idiot.

What, does he think I'm stupid?

Sure, Stanley seemed fooled for a while, but the last several hours of panic and grieving-

He doesn't know.

Oh.

Well, that's. A perfectly rational assumption given that's what the letter said, the spell was supposed to end in unconsciousness in a form of slowed metabolism and heart rate in a form of intense hibernation.

"I was awake." The reaction is immediate feeling the hand on either shoulder tighten momentarily with several emotions passing over Stanley's face too fast to read.

Panic is all he catches before its smothered with the rest.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Well, that is almost worse than Ford being dead, because what the hell is he supposed to do now?

They're three hours from port, without anyone around, and no internet connection.

Ford could easily kill him and no one would ever know the difference.

Because that is certainly what's about to happen. He knows, he heard, he saw for fucks sake.

If it wasn't for the physical and literal beating Ford would have already had him in a headlock on the floor.

Watching Stanley physically, and not so subtly, recoil is heartwrenching and Ford won't stand for seeing any more pain on his brother’s face.

There has been enough of that in one lifetime, and tonight.

"Hey, I'm not upset." He has to physically stop Stanley from getting up off the bed by grabbing one shoulder and the closer hand tightly, pulling him back to sit again.

This might be the absolute most embarrassing moment of his whole life.

Worse than the teasing they got as a pair over Ford's kissing bot in high school, which previously held the top spot.

Maybe I should just throw myself overboard to get away from this conversation.

Sure, I'm not dead, but living with 'being let down easy' and then everything spiraling into the most awkward friend zone of all time is much worse.

Death would be kinder.

Stan's whole face flushes bright red but otherwise his expression remains mostly neutral and steeled waiting for whatever comes next. Though its still tempting to run.

Very, very tempting.

This is terrifying, but not nearly as scary as thinking Stanley was going to do something drastic while left to his own devices. In comparison, this is easy.

If you ignore the fact nothing has ever been easy for them.

"I'm, you could say that- I understand." What the fuck was that? He tries again, pushing on because that didn't make any sense. "I mean, I've visited more dimensions then I can count, I'm certainly not- I've grown out of my own reservations, so you could say. But, obviously, I never thought..." He does another lame motion with their linked hands, hoping Stan will read his mind and end this painful moment.

Okay, now this is definitely a hallucination triggered by some sort of mental lapse or stroke.

Ford being dead absolutely did get to him.

Enough to make up a whole letter and shoot up a corpse with some random chemical and now some sick hallucination.

That seems more likely than what Ford is trying to imply or suggest.

But the hand in his, with six fingers enveloping Stan's five, certainly feels real.

And there is the small, helpful, argument-nagging details coming from the back of his head that Ford never actually pissed himself or anything like most dead people do.

Stanley must have picked up the habit of laughing when he's nervous over the last several decades because, from Ford's perspective, nothing about this conversation is funny.

It's very serious and raw, so why the hell is he laughing so hard?

At least he isn't pulling away. That's good?

"For fucks sake, Stanley, can you take anything seriously for one whole minute? Why the hell do I even fancy you? You’re an ass!"

"Fancy me, what are you, a British nark?" Jesus, Stanley can barely breathe trying to calm down but doesn't let Ford pull his hand away an inch.

"I'm going to kill you, just as soon as I can breathe without my whole chest convulsing, I'm going to-"

"Oh, I'll show you being unable to breathe alright." He does not know where the boldness comes from exactly, probably the high from the recent near-death experience, but either way he snatches Ford by the shoulder with his free hand to pull him over into a proper kiss.

He ignores how it tastes of stale water and snot.

[smurfs-insideout-au]

smurfpigment and jokey would be one hell of a team

Brainy: First of all, language! Second... *Sigh* Right you are! Those two Smurfs can really leave a blast of color behind.

Speaking of which... Hey Pigment, I think you want to see this 'letter' for you.

Pigment: Oh? A letter for me?

Pigment: Wow! I have a letter from the humans?! Already!? Is this one of your inventions, Brainy Smurf? Wow!! This is so smurfy! What a brilliant Smurf you are!

Brainy: (Puffing up with confidence) Why of course! I am the smartest Smurf after all! Who else could come up with such a Smurfy invention? But let's not dwell on that!

Pigment: Right! Uh let’s see… Hello! Pigment right here! :D (Reads the question) Hahah! Yea! We sure do make one #!@* of a team!

Brainy: Pigment! No swearing!

Pigment: Oops, I'm sorry! Hmmm, I'm reminded of this funny story that happened back then! I made these color bombs as a way of expression, celebration and self-defense. When I first introduced my color bombs, I remembered the Smurfs being thrilled! Until they realized that if Jokey Smurf found out about my color bombs, the Smurf Village would have colorful surprises for weeks! So they all begged me to not let Jokey know about my color bombs at all!

Pigment: So I told them "Alright! Alright! But know that Jokey will smurf them out eventually!"

The Smurfs were trying so hard to make sure Jokey never found out about my color bombs! I remembered whenever Jokey hears them talking about my color bombs they would say it's just a figure of speech! I remember I needed to hide my color bombs whenever Jokey is near. But I KNOW he was on to me!

Pigment: But this is where it ends from there. Jokey decided to pay me a visit so he can have materials for a prank, but I wasn't prepared, so I scrambled to hide my color bombs. But unfortunately, a big color bomb fell out of my hands and rolled towards Jokey... He picked it up and before we know it....

KABOOM!!!

Pigment: So, I was right! Jokey would find out about my color bombs eventually! I was caught red-handed! No, that literally wasn't a pun!  If there's anything that I vividly remembered, my hands were covered mostly in red pigment when the big color bomb exploded! And as a reward for discovering my little secret, I gave him color bombs of his choice! Haha! The village was covered in color for weeks! Sorry Smurfs!

Pigment: So yea! I'm now the go-to Smurf Jokey goes to if he wants color bombs for his pranks!

Brainy: Ahem, thank you for that colorful story, Pigment! Now if you don't mind, I think I'll take it from here. There's probably more questions that might need answering.

Pigment: Oh, of course! Well, I hope you like my story, humans! It's been really fun talking with you!

Hefty: Smurfpigment! Time for your check-up!

Pigment: Oops! There goes my signal! Good luck with the questions, Brainy Smurf! Catch you later!

*Pigment finally skips away for her check-up. Graphite walks out. She stops then looks at Brainy's direction with her typical deadpan expression on her face.* Graphite: Hey.