#like stanley only likes it bc the mind control is forcing him to

[swift-sage44]

stanley and the bucket never found freedom, because they spent the rest of their lives here in this place, flipping through livestreams of the sillies birds imaginable.

[employee052]

little poster for a minicomic im working on thats half au / half backstory for virgil and the tsp gang in my universe called "la vie en jaune" (or life in yellow in french) (i think) (idk i live in canada)

for a full infodump on this au ill put it under the cut bc this au is an amalgamation of portal 2 (which takes from cave johnson, caroline, aperture, while also taking from a chelley fic i read) , simon from adventure time, kingsman, and floating megane's ted nivison comics on insta.

the plot:

Virgil works at a company called Ouroboros Technologies, whos goal is to make gadgets that automate the process of buisnesses (though they never go beyond that explanation, it pays hella money so ppl dont question it).

Anyways, Virgil's job is to hire and manage the new employees in his division. And at his 427th employee he hires Stanley Rider (also rider is stanleys canonical last name apparently so might as well use that instead of parable). A 26 year old whos fresh out of university n is working as an intern. Getting coffee, flowers for the office, making sure everyone has enough whiteboard markers since ppl use that up like crazy, etc

The two get close to the point that Stanley becomes Virgil's assistant. Which helps a bit since both Stanley and Virgil are struggling to keep up with their (seperate n now combined) workload.

The company makes a prototype product which is a set of yellow glasses, which gives the user access to the whole company's building, files, and technology in an AR form that they can access at the blink of an eye. The Prototype AR Accessible Biotech Launcher Enviroment (or pARable for short) They give it to Virgil to test, and research finds that it improves productivity 110%. However, the tech begins to backfire as it slowly begins to change Virgil's attitude and body. His mind starts to forget the people and names around him, he starts becoming increasingly more anxious and self conscious of his work when in the presence of an audience, his body begins to rapidly age and drain his life from him, and he begins to crave the control that he is given with these glasses.

Stanley notices this, and pleads with Virgil to stop, which he does. However, it causes them to fall behind on their workload, and the higherups dont like it.

Eventually, as the company threatens to dock their pay, Virgil is forced to use the glasses again in order to keep up with the workload and feed both him and Stanley. At which, Virgil begins to lose himself more and more. Forgetting his name and instead calling himself the Narrator.

The only person that he remembers is Stanley.

One night, Virgil doesn't come home, and after filing a missing persons case, Stanley doesn't find him. (Although the usual silence from Ouroboros seems more ominous than usual)

The company begins to export and send pARables en masse to all its employees, and the company reaches a terrifying peak in efficiency. And Stanley follows. Yet the only difference is that his pARable is different than his coworkers. Where everyone else starts off at a narration explaining the device followed by a room that is designed to look exactly like the user's own bedroom. Stanley's starts off with a story, in an office that looks suspiciously like his.

And concerningly, he can only vaguely remember of his life before the pARable.

And so the game plays out like normal, except both Stanley and The Narrator cant help but shake the fact that the other feels so familiar somehow.

---

ive got one page already done so i might do some more doodles with the designs i have for these two later, but im just glad i got to put this down since this is how i saw virgils origins to be subconsciously

which reminds me i need to share what ive got written for my tsp portal au f U C K

[bi-bi-richie]

Honestly Patty and Richie are both absolutely batshit 😌 they get wine drunk while they plot how to get Stan and Eddie back, bc they refuse to even thinking of the possibility of them not. Like, it just isn't an option

Richie and Patty share their experiences with Stan, to catch each other up on his life, and they both talk about their loves. It's a meant-to-be friendship, and she's a Loser that's just a little late to the game

Stan and Eddie also get a major bollocking when they get brought back, then they hug and cry

Okay I really didn’t expect that post to blow up as much as it has so I decided to write this out! Hope you enjoy it :) also based on this post

The Derry Townhouse was, in short, filthy. It clearly hasn’t been maintained in years, the building itself has such an aura that screams get out. But, thankfully, the liquor is clean, or that’s what Richie told her and at this point, she’s inclined to believe him. Truth be told, it was quite a shock to Patty when she found the washed up comedian sitting at the bar unaccompanied. Its been three months since Stan died, three months since this so-called Losers Club (of which, Richie was apart of, that much she knew) reunited only to disband again, yet here he is still drowning in his own sorrows. It was even more shocking when he recognized her, or at least her name, and invited her over for a drink. In the past months, any of Stan’s old friends she got ahold of brushed her off or simply begged her to stay away from this topic all together, but here’s Richie, paying for her drink and indulging her.

“So, you’re the famous Patty, huh?” He questions, a half-hearted smirk resting on his lips.

“Famous? We both know that description fits you better, Mr. Tozier.”

The formality makes him scoff, “please, Mr. Tozier was my father, or some stupid shit like that- the point is, we’re all very interested in Stan-the-man’s wife. He’s the only loser that didn’t seem to have divorce written in the stars.”

Immediately, Patty wants to call bullshit on that claim. She’s talked to every other loser save for this one and they’ve wanted nothing to do with her other than warn her of a terrible danger. She opens her mouth to argue, but snaps it shut in favor of reasoning with herself. Regardless of how they’ve brushed her off in the past, she’s finally found someone who won’t, someone she can get the tiniest bit of information out of if she plays her cards right. She doesn’t say anything, just nods along and judges her next words.

“Gotta say, you’re no regular tourist,” she tells him, raising her glass to her lips, pretending to be uninterested.

Richie doesn’t say anything for a moment, pursing his lips before lamely replying, “I grew up here.” He takes a rather large gulp of his own drink before continuing, “and I could say the same about you, couldn’t I? I mean, hanging out in the Townhouse makes you quite suspicious.”

She shrugs, “Stan grew up here... and this place is cheap. Lets just say...” She pauses, feeling unwanted tears well up in her eyes and threaten to flow over. “Lets just say I’m mourning...”

Richie watches her with intense eyes, carefully considering her reaction and, at least it seems to Patty, debating on what to say. He eventually decides, “yeah, well, you’re not the only one...”

In his eyes, there’s pain. Terrible, terrible pain and sorrow, something that makes Patty shudder. There’s no doubt in her mind when the following words slip from her lips.

“It was the clown, wasn’t it?”

And from pain to terror his eyes go in an instant. He gapes, struggling to find the words and failing with every second that passes. Bingo, Patty thinks, and reaches into her purse, pulling out a rather large notebook that she then slides over to the comedian. Richie, still unable to convey a sentence, opens the first page with shaky hands that he can barely control, he even drops it at first. On the first page, in big, bold letters, is written PROPERTY OF MIKE HANLON.

“Did...” Richie chokes out, “did you steal this!?” Upon turning the pages, it becomes very apparent that the contents are all about the supernatural elements of Derry, specifically the clown.

“Richie,” Patty says in an almost exasperated voice, “one minute, I’m planning a wonderful vacation with my wonderful, loving husband. The next, he’s taken his own life, only leaving incredibly vague letters addressed to friends I’ve never met. When I reach out to these friends, they shoo me off with warnings of a great danger I can’t possibly understand. Believe me when I say it’s true, this is a danger I don’t understand, but something tells me you guys don’t either.” She takes a pause, forcing her voice to stay still as it threatens to crack with emotion, “I will find out what happened to my husband, and I’d like to ask for your help.”

Richie doesn’t say something for quite some time, only looking over the pages with great horror but determination all the same. “Do you even have a plan? A means of finding answers?” He whispers, perhaps rhetorically but Patty doesn’t take it that way. She reaches over and flips to a bookmarked page where the grand photo of a turtle overtakes most of the page, vaguely gesturing to it with her hand as if to say read it yourself. Richie does, his breathing becoming increasingly unsteady. Eventually, he looks back up and meets her gaze with his own watery eyes. Eyes that are so damn hopeful but terrified to be so at the same time. “You... You haven’t seen what I’ve seen. You can’t possibly know what you’re going up against.”

“If you’re describing hell,” she cooly replies, “then I’ve already seen it. Nothing can be more horrific than seeing the love of my life bleeding out in our bathtub.”

Richie purses his lips, eyebrows meet in the middle with frustration before he blurts out, “I’ll help you, but you have to help me too.”

Patty nods, expectant of giving something in exchange. “What do you want?”

“To find my own love. I need answers just like you.”

She nods again, “who was she?”

“... his name is Eddie.”

They share intense eye contact for a moment, something that speaks more than anything they’ve said in the past hour. Patty holds her hand out, indicating a handshake, which Richie takes but pulls her into a rather breathtaking hug.

“Please, bring my Eds back to me,” he shakily whispers, voice thick with sadness, but a hint of hope slips with it.

“Only if you bring back my Stanley,” she replies, wrapping her arms around him to return the hug.

They’ll get along just fine.

[thelastspeecher]

I’ve been reading the books that the Olympian Falls AU is based on (well. reading the new ones; the earlier ones it would be re-reading).  and they’re so great and it got me all pumped and I wrote more for that AU today.  so here, have Stan and Angie reuniting after not seeing or talking to each other in years.  naturally, their reunion involves knives and punching, bc that’s what the best reunions all have to have.

              Stan silently approached the small semi-circle of demigods sitting around the campfire.  He couldn’t make out any chains or other methods of keeping the kids hostage, but that didn’t mean anything.  Threats could be just as effective as physical bondage.  He carefully tapped on the shoulder of the closest teen.  The teen let out a small yelp.

              “Shh,” Stan hissed.  The teen looked at him with wide, gray eyes.  Stan recognized those eyes.

              A kid of Athena, huh?  Good.  I can explain things fastest to him.

              “I’m here to rescue you,” Stan continued.  The demigod frowned.

              “What?  But-” An arrow zipped by Stan, nicking his shoulder.  He jerked away from the teen instinctively.

              “Leave him alone!” a commanding voice said.  Stan looked around.  He could see a shadowy figure standing a short distance away, bow drawn and an arrow ready to fire.

              “Like Hades I will,” Stan growled.  The person holding the demigods hostage fired another arrow.  This one scratched Stan’s calf.

              “That’s my last warnin’ shot, bud.  If ya don’t leave us alone right now, I’ll start aimin’ more lethally.”

              “Oh, screw you,” Stan snapped, drawing his sword.  He charged at the stranger.  The stranger dropped their bow and drew a dagger from somewhere just in time to clash with Stan’s sword.

              “I hate melee fights,” the stranger muttered.  Stan grinned.

              “Good.  ‘Cause I love ‘em.”  He knocked the dagger out of the stranger’s hand, forcing them to take a step back. “Now, I’m gonna take these kids to safety, and you’re gonna either run away or die.  Doesn’t make a difference to me, really.”  He advanced on the stranger, who continued to back away. There was a faint splash. Suddenly, Stan’s sword was grabbed out of his hand by an unseen force.  Stan blinked. “Huh?”

              “Mighty nice sword you’ve got here,” the stranger said idly.  They were now holding Stan’s weapon, looking it over.

              “Hey!” Stan protested.  “How- how did-”

              “That’s fer me to know, not you,” the stranger said.  Stan gritted his teeth.

              Fine!  I’m better with my fists, anyways.  Stan rushed forward, prepared to punch the daylights out of this hostage-taker, only for his outstretched fist to be caught by the stranger. He froze.  That- that never happens.  No one can catch my punches.  Avoid them, maybe, but stop them?  He could feel water beginning to soak through his shoes.  We’re standing in a puddle.  Gears started to turn in his head.  But before he could finish his thought, the stranger kicked him in the chest, and he went flying backwards, landing on the dirt dangerously close to the campfire. The demigods closest to him scrambled backwards.  Okay.  There’s only one person I’ve ever met who likes to pull that shit.  The stranger advanced on him.  Light from the campfire illuminated their face, flickering in familiar sea-green eyes.

              “Angie!” Stan yelped.  Angie froze. “Shit, kid, if you’d told me it was you-”

              “Stan?” Angie said, aghast.  She let out a short laugh.  “Gods, Pines, yer goin’ to get yourself killed one of these days.”  Stan couldn’t help his grin, now that he recognized the attacker as one of his oldest friends.

              “Yeah.  I hear that a lot,” he said dismissively.  Angie held out her hand.  Stan grabbed it and allowed her to pull him up.  He idly dusted off his clothes.  “Good thing it rained earlier today.  Otherwise I woulda kicked your ass, instead of it being the other way around.”

              “I don’t leave that to chance anymore,” Angie said.  She tapped a canteen clipped to her belt.  “Always keep some water on me, in case I need a boost.”

              “She cheats,” Stan translated for the teen demigods, who were watching Stan and Angie banter.  Angie scoffed.

              “It ain’t cheatin’.  It’s gettin’ the most out of my abilities.  I can control water and get super-charged by it, so I make sure to have some on hand.”  Angie punched Stan playfully.  “Never know when I might run up against a master boxer like you.”  The son of Athena Stan had noticed earlier cleared his throat.

              “Uh, who is he?” the teen asked.  Angie beamed and clapped Stan on the shoulder.  Stan stifled a grin at how she had to reach up to do so.

              She never did get that growth spurt she kept saying she would.

              “This is one of my friends from camp.  Stan Pines, son of Hermes.”  Stan bowed extravagantly.  “I guess you got sent by someone to help escort these kids?”

              “Yeah.  But no one said that they’d already have someone helping them,” Stan said.  He raised an eyebrow at Angie.  “Especially not a girl who claimed she was leaving the whole Greek world behind her to go to ‘college’.”  He put air quotes around the last word to emphasize how he felt about secondary education.  Angie rolled her eyes.

              “Come on, I got you a bit beat up.  Kiddos, keep doin’ whatever ya were doin’ while I get Stan cleaned up.” Angie led Stan away from the campfire, to a small tent.  She ushered Stan inside.

              “It’s dark as fuck in here.”

              “There’s a lantern.”  Angie crawled in and rummaged around.  There was a small click.  Light filled the tent.  “See?”

              “Now I do.”

              “Oh, you.”  Angie opened a small first aid kit.  As she grabbed bandages and antiseptic, Stan watched her.  She looked different from the last time Stan had seen her.  It wasn’t just that she had cut her hair into a short bob.  It was also the way she held herself.  More confidently.  She seemed a bit paler than usual; her always present beach tan was washed out by the harsh light from the lantern.  Angie tucked a strand of caramel-colored hair behind one ear.  Stan realized he was staring.  He cleared his throat.

              “So, uh, how was college?” Stan asked quietly.  Angie shrugged.

              “Decent.  Majored in oceanography with a minor in zoology.”

              “Really?  Oceanography?” Stan said.  Angie glanced at him.

              “Yeah.  What about it?”

              “That’s cheating.”

              “Oh, please.”

              “Your dad is the god of the oceans.  Getting a degree in the study of the ocean is like me getting a degree in thievery.  You’ve got an unfair advantage.”

              “I like to think of it as an innate talent,” Angie said.  “A gift.”

              “If that makes you feel better.”

              “Yer awful rude to the person patchin’ ya up.”  Stan grinned.

              “Nah.  I’m just teasing you, kid.”

              “You’ll have to stop callin’ me that at some point.  I’m in my twenties now, y’know.”  Angie began to dab at Stan’s shoulder wound with a cotton ball.  “What have you been up to?”

              “Not much,” Stan said.  “Got a job and a place in the city.  I help out at the camp whenever I can.”  Angie’s mouth twitched.  “What?”

              “Yer havin’ a rough time movin’ on from Camp Half-Blood, huh?”

              “It’s not like I have much to fall back on.  You’ve got your siblings and your smarts.  All I’ve got is Ford.  And he’s-” Stan cut himself off.  Angie paused.

              “Did the two of ya have a fallin’ out?” she asked softly.  Stan shrugged.  Angie tsked.  “Don’t move like that.  I’m tryin’ to clean ya up.”

              “Right.  Uh, it’s- it’s a long story,” Stan muttered.  Angie didn’t pry further.  Instead, she changed the topic.

              “Don’t ya have yer mom and older brother to spend time with?”

              “I haven’t talked to them in a while, either.”

              “Why not?”

              “They’re mortal.  I don’t wanna put ‘em in danger.”

              “Oh, Stanley,” Angie sighed.  She stroked Stan’s cheek fondly.  “Ya were always a lot sweeter ‘n ya claimed to be.”  Stan could feel a flush starting to spread across his features, starting at the skin directly underneath Angie’s warm, soft hand.  He coughed, trying to disrupt the tension.

              “How’d you get roped into escorting a buncha demigods to camp?  You said you were gonna leave all of this stuff behind.”

              “I did say that.”  Angie’s hand fell away from Stan’s cheek.  “And I meant it.  My senior year of high school and all of college, I stayed out of things.  I didn’t seek anything out.  Only dealt with things what came after me.”  She busied herself with something in the first aid kit. “But after I got my degree, I took a gap year.  I felt like there was somethin’ missin’.  And I didn’t want to get my graduate degree with that feelin’ hangin’ over me.

              “I was walkin’ ‘round campus when I saw ‘em.  A pack of teens, all of ‘em carryin’ weapons of some sort, bein’ escorted by a satyr.  And right behind ‘em was a big ole snake.  Naturally, I intervened.  Sliced that snake ‘fore it could hurt those kids.”  Angie shrugged.  “Ended up joinin’ ‘em to protect ‘em.  And here we are, now.”

              “Here we are, now,” Stan repeated quietly.  “Mind if I join your little group?  There’s a lotta kids here.  Seems like you could use an extra hand.”  Angie smiled at him.

              “I can always use an extra hand, if that hand is yours, Stanley Pines.”

[stansghost]

Im having the shittiest day and I’m wondering if you could do some platonic/romantic hcs of Stozier (aslo if you could add Richies reaction to Stan being dead bc that’s so fucking tragic ??)

ahh I’m sorry you were having a bad day !!! Hopefully this can help you cheer up a bit ?? (Also holy shit I’m so sorry, I promise these were just supposed to be headcanons but I have Absolutely No Self Control) I hope you like them !!

~

• their late middle school years and early high school years are stolen glances, forbidden daydreams, and butterflies that neither of them completely understand but neither of them mind too much either

~

• Richie almost never has nightmares, but when he does it’s the same one (he’s at a funeral in front of a coffin, he looks down to see himself in it, when he turns around, he sees all of the seats are vacant)

• he always wakes up in a panic, tears streaming down his face, usually he’s able to calm himself back down, but some nights he just can’t deal with it alone

• he sneaks to Stan’s house, and climbs through the window

• when he first started, Stan was super annoyed (“Richie, it’s like 3am, what are you doing here??”)

• but when he sees the hesitant and shy way Richie is holding himself, and his red eyes and puffy cheeks, Richie is in his bed and cuddling under the covers in seconds

• he tells Stan about his dreams, and Stan quietly reassures him (while also thankful Richie’s head is pressed against Stan’s chest so he can’t see the worry on Stan’s face)

• “you won’t forget me, right?”

• “how could I ever forget you”

• Stan plays with Richie’s hair, humming nonsense songs until they both fall asleep

• Stan wakes up to Richie next to him on the bed

• he can’t believe how such a beautiful, innocent looking boy could turn into such a fckn asshole

• he has the strongest urge to lean over and kiss Richie’s forehead

• he shakes his head and gets up to make waffles

~

• Richie calls Stan “Staniel” when they get into drunk arguments

• drunk!Stan™ usually comes back with “Richinold”

• before long they’re usually too busy giggling to continue their argument

~

• Stan has really bad social anxiety, and while he’s usually ok in public spaces, sometimes he just needs a minute in a quiet space

• the losers really wanted to try out the new waterpark that had just been built, Stan really d i d n o t want to, knowing how crowded it always was, but how could he say no when the others were so excited ?

• once he’s there, he has fun with his friends and everything is ok

• but suddenly everything becomes louder, its harder to breathe, everyone is moving so fast and his vision starts tunnelling and he needs to Get Out

• he jumps out of the pool and basically sprints to the changing room and locks himself in one of the bathroom stalls

• Richie noticed Stan getting out of the pool and is immediately rushing after him before Bev can even ask what happened

• Richie runs into the change room looking around for Stan when he hears laboured breathing from one of the bathroom stalls

• Richie calls his name softly and knocks on the bathroom stall

• He hears the breathing stop for a moment, then the door opens and the next thing Richie knows he’s on his ass holding a panicking Stan

• Stan starts rambling uncontrollably, stuttering and stumbling over his words, trying to explain what happened

• he tries to tell Richie he tried to calm down and it’s never been this bad before and he doesn’t know what to do and he doesn’t know how to calm down

• Richie just shushes him and tries to get him to breathe

• He’s trying not to let his tears fall because he’s sure he’s never seen his friend this scared before but somehow this feels so familiar and he can’t help but be a little scared too

• they just sit there on the ground, holding each other until Stan finally starts to calm down

• whatever strange looks they get from other men and boys walking by, Richie deflects with a glare of mind your own fucking business

• whenever the losers club suggest going to the pool again, Richie always makes sure he and Stan “already have plans”

~

• Stan only does stupid shit around Richie

• he cackles internally when none of the losers believed Richie when he told them Stan had dabbed 15 times in a row to All Star

• “why Stan, why”

“because no one will believe you”

“you monster”

~

• Richie joins Stan on one of his birdwatching adventures

• because lately, for some reason, he really wants to hang out with Stan more often

• Stan spends most of the time walking to the meadow near the barrens, talking about the northern lapwing his father had told him he’d seen the other day (“they’re very rare for this area, Richie, people would kill to see one of those), and that he vowed he wouldn’t leave until he saw it too

• Richie starts getting super bored though, he’d finished his funny book and the sandwich Stan’s mom had packed him

• he starts looking around, taking in everything around him, when he notices Stan’s bag is open and he can see a worn out journal inside

• “*gasp* Stanley Uris did you really break your mother’s favourite vase ? you naughty boy tsk tsk…”

“yeah yeah, it was gre- wait what”

“and theN YOu blamed it on me?? how Rude™”

“ Richie Tozier put that dowN DON’T READ THAT”

• Richie tried to take the journal and run (seeing his name for a brief second and becoming curious) though he didn’t get far before Stan fckn tackled him to the ground

• they start fighting over the journal, wrestling and rolling all over the ground

• little known fact about Stanley Uris; he’s extremely ticklish

• Richie uses this unfairly in Stan’s opinion to his advantage

• Stan pins Richie to the ground and finally gets his journal back

• they’re both out of breath from the effort and the mini tickling war, that at first they don’t realize how close they are to each other

• when they do the whole situation just seems a little less funny

• Richie is taking in all of Stan’s features; the way that one little curl falls just right over his face; the little crinkles by his eyes when he smiles, his angelic smile

• Richie can feel himself leaning in closer an-

• Stan gives a little chuckle and stands up, brushing himself off (“come on Richie, it’s getting late and now our clothes are all dirty,,, I’ll just come back another day)

• Richie stays where he is for a minute, trying to process what just happened what he almost did

• Stan has butterflies in his stomach and he won’t let himself understand why boys aren’t supposed to feel that way about other boys Stanley dear, you’ll grow out of it

~

• Richie’s phone once autocorrected Stan’s name to Satan

• Richie kept that as Stan’s contact name for almost 5 months until Stan broke into his phone to change it

~

• It wasn’t until their second year of high school that they finally realized/admitted how they felt about each other

• they were both tipsy on New Year’s Eve at the clubhouse when someone suggested spin the bottle

• Stan sat beside Bill, secretly not at all secretly looking at Richie

• Richie sat beside Bev, they were whispering about something that Stan couldn’t hear, occasionally looking his way

• when it finally came down to Stan’s turn, he spins the bottle and it lands on Richie

• they both look at each other in shock, the cat calls and playful whooping fading into the background

• Stan is still trying to process the situation when he realizes Richie already crossed the circle to him

• he’s inches away from Stan’s face when he whispers a quiet “I c-can’t” and immediately jumps up

• he looks around to see the confused and shocked faces of his friends (and the confused and hurt look on Richie’s face) before he quickly exits the clubhouse

• Richie takes a minute to take in what just happened, before he’s out the door just as fast

• he catches up to Stan, and grabs his arm to stop him from walking away

• Stan yanks his arm out of Richie’s grasp, trying to hide his face because he won’t can’t let Richie see the tears that he couldn’t hold back

• Richie practically begs Stan to look at him and tell him what’s going on

• Stan refuses to, as he runs his hands through his hair and mutters to himself (“this isn’t right, this isn’t right, I can’t do this, I can’t)

• Richie grabs Stan’s shoulders and forced him to look at him, the uncertainty and hesitance on Stan’s face scared him

• “when I tell you you’re going to hate me”

“Don’t be ridiculous, how could I ever hate you”

“I… I like… you”

• Stan refused to look at Richie in the eye as he confessed, but his head snapped up when he heard laughter

• he looked up to see the biggest smile he’d ever seen on Richie’s face

“you like me? Like, you’re not fucking with me right?”

“No this isn’t a fucking joke Richie, this is real. Fuck i knew it, i knew I shouldn’t have said anything, I fucked everything up, everything was so good and now I’m going to lose the one person I care most abo-“

• Richie grabs Stan’s face in his hands and looked at him right in the eyes with a dead serious expression

“You aren’t going to lose shit you noodle-haired doof” Richie smiles at him “I like you too. I’ve known it since that day in the meadow, I know it when I see your smile, or hear your laugh. I know it when I see you talk about something that makes you happy, I know it when you tell me about your day, or what you want to do with life. I know it when it hurts to say goodbye, and I know it when I find myself getting butterflies thinking about seeing you the next day. Fuck Stan, I like you, I like everything about you. So please, don’t ever talk about losing me again because I swear on my life, for as long as you’ll have me, I’ll never leave you

• Stan has never been happier in his entire life

• Richie asks if he can kiss him

• Stan tells him it’s ok

• it’s so sweet and soft, and so much better than either of them could have imagined

~

• they come out to the losers a week later

• they walk to the barrens holding hands, heads held high (but lowkey kinda terrified)

• Ben, being the adorable romantic he is, runs up to them and congratulates them

• Bev turns to Mike with a smug look and Mike begrudgingly takes out a dollar bill and shoved it into Bev’s open palm, before they both go up to congratulate them as well

• Eddie and Bill stay back, overwhelmingly proud and happy that their friends were finally able to express their love for each other (because honestly it was so fckn obvious, they can’t believe it took them this long)

• amidst the barrage of questions the two get about their newfound relationship, Stan and Richie make eye contact

• Stan smiles at Richie

• Richie smiles and winks back at him

~

• sometimes Stan will go on huge rants about things going on in the world, or things he learned in school, and Richie just sits there, not really listening, but rather watching

• watching as sometimes Stan will stumble over words when he gets too excited

• watching as Stan’s forehead will crease every now and then with his expression

• watching his arms subconsciously animating his words

• watching him worry his bottom lip when he’s trying to think of his next set of words

• watching the beautiful boy he’s completely and utterly in love with

~

• their first and last time was the day before Stan left

• at first it was rushed kisses and hurried touches

• but then it melted into soft caresses and innocent love

• the next morning was filled with messy hair, featherlight kisses and soft laughter

• Richie swore he wouldn’t cry, he wouldn’t let Stan see how much he needed him there

• he tried to cover up the pain with laughter

• Stan knew Richie too well, he could see it in his eyes

• he held Richie tighter

• “you’ll see me again, I think. I have the weirdest feeling none of us are quite done with this place yet”

• Richie can’t trust his voice, he settles for light kisses to Stan’s neck, jaw, cheeks, nose, lips

• it’s time for Stan to leave, Richie doesn’t want to let go

• Stan doesn’t want to let go either, but if he doesn’t then he’ll stay there with Richie forever

• he forced himself out of the bed

• they get dressed

• they say goodbye

Years Later

• when Richie gets that phone call from Mike, his entire world breaks

• he doesn’t remember too much at first, but something inside tells him he can’t go, he can never go back

• there are so many emotions and new (old?) memories flooding his mind

• then he remembers him

• Stan “the man” Uris

• one of his closest friends, the one who was there for him every goddamn time

• his first.. love ? yes that’s it, his first love

• suddenly, he’s not so scared anymore, suddenly the whole journey looks a little less impossible

• sure he’s scared, sure he really doesn’t want to face… whatever it is he’s sure they’re going to face, but if Stan’s there then everything will be ok

• if he gets to see Stan again, it will all be worth it, he’s sure

~

• their first dance was at junior prom

• Making Love Out Of Nothing At All by Air Supply was playing, and Richie grabbed Stan’s hand and pulled him onto the dance floor

• “Richie, I don’t know how to dance”

• “Neither do I”

• “They’re all looking at us”

• “Fuck ‘em, it’s you and me and the music tonight, that’s all I care about”

~

• while driving to Derry, Richie suddenly gets a horrible feeling

• it feels like something just punched him in the gut and it hurts to breathe, he thinks of Stan

• he pulls over, clutching at his chest, trying to regain proper breathing

• suddenly memories of Stan pop into his mind

• the good

• the bad although, were there really any bad memories of Stan?

• he’s unsure why, but he chalks it up to his anxiety of going back to Derry and not knowing what happened to Stan all these years

• he tries to convince himself that when he sees Stan, this horrible feeling will go away

• he finally regains his breath and continues on

~

• that year for Hanukkah, Stan’s mother had asked him to do some baking to give out to friends and family

• naturally when Richie heard “baking” he tagged right along home with Stan

• Stan’s specialty is sufganiyots, but he’s super particular about how they’re made, and Richie is not meeting his requirements

“sift the flour Richie, you have to sifT IT”

“sift this bitch”

• Richie proceeds to throw the flour in Stan’s face

• Stan stands there for a second, absolutely in shock, before he grabs a fistful of flour and shoves it down Richie’s shirt

• and the famous junior year flour fight had commenced

• chaos ensued as innocent particles of flour were tossed and hurled about, most missing the target but some hitting dead on. The flour massacre only stopped when Richie grabbed Stan’s hands and pinned them on the wall above Stan’s head

• Stan, realizing his defeat, tries to smooth things over with a quick smooch

• as Richie leans down, Stan seizes the momentary distraction and dumps the remaining flour in the bowl over Richie’s head

“Checkmate, bitch”

• Stan goes upstairs to take a shower because now he’s filthy thanks to a certain someone, inviting Richie to join him after he’s done cleaning his mess

• Stan makes sure he’s finished long before Richie is done cleaning

~

• when he gets to the restaurant Mike had told him about, he’s surprised to see Stan hasn’t arrived yet (Stan is absolutely never late)

• the horrible feeling is threatening to come back again

• he tells himself that he doesn’t even know how Stan had planned to arrive, his flight could have easily been delayed, or traffic jams and construction could easily slow down a bus or car travel

• it doesn’t make him feel better

~

• later on in the evening in the library, reassured by everyone that Stan is just uncharacteristically late, Richie starts having a good time with the losers

• he’s laughing and making jokes, but at the same time he’s becoming more and more anxious because where the fuck is Stan, why isn’t he here yet, I swear to god when he gets here I’m gonna let him fucking have it for making me worry so much

• he gets up at some point to go grab another beer from the kitchen, laughing at a story Ben had just finished telling them

• he hears a phone ringing in the background

• he hears the laughter die down, and stop

• “guys what’s up? Who died in…”

• he trails off when he returns to the lobby, taking in the complete change in mood

• Mike is solemnly putting the phone down, he looks up carefully to Richie

• Ben is staring at his hands in,, disbelief ?

• Beverly has a hand over her mouth, trying to hold back tears as she stares at the phone

• Eddie is staring cautiously at Richie, skin white as if he’d seen a ghost

• Bill immediately stands when Richie enters the room and starts toward him

• Richie weakly asks who was on the phone

“Richie,,,”

“who was on the fucking phone Bill”

• that horrible feeling is back, and this time it won’t leave

• his lungs, his throat and his heart, everything feels like it’s collapsing and it hurts, it hurts so bad

• all the hope he’d clung to ever since the call with Mike is slowly evaporating as he desperately tries to keep hold of it

• when Bill utters those two hateful words, Richie’s world stops

• he can’t think, he can’t breathe, his legs feel like they could collapse at any second, and all he can do is reply with a small “no” no please god, please let this be a cruel joke, let Stan walk through those doors, let him call back on that phone and say “gotcha Richie, get any good chucks out of this one?” please, anything but this because this hurts so bad and I don’t know what to do

• he looks around at his friends, searching for the answer he wants needs

• he doesn’t get it and oh god why can’t he breathe

• they all take time to mourn Stan

• they all share their favourite memories of him

• no one points out the fact that Richie hasn’t said a single word

• after a while, Mike slowly eases them back into planning for the events of the next day

• once a plan is decided, Richie quickly excuses himself, and leaves for his hotel room

• he’s numb the entire cab ride there, watching out the window but not really seeing anything

• as soon as he’s in his room and the door is shut, is when he finally breaks

• he sits down in the entry way, pulling his knees to his chest and trying to breathe between the sobs

• he falls asleep there, his last thought is of the smile Stan had given him when they came out to the losers

Years Later pt 2

• Richie doesn’t remember the losers club anymore

• he’s forgotten all about his childhood in Derry, and the reunion he’d had with his childhood friends

• their final encounter with It had worked, It was dead

• even though he desperately didn’t want it to, the forgetting had begun again (this time permenantly)

• but

• every now and then, Richie will see someone in the street with short and perfectly curled hair

• he gets the strongest urge to call out to them

• but when they turn around and he sees their face, he’s always disappointed, but he never knows why

• the day he was driving to propose to his boyfriend of three years, the radio was playing throwback songs to the 1980’s

• just as he was pulling into the parking lot of the restaurant Making Love Out Of Nothing At All comes on

• he is hit with a powerful ache of nostalgia

• all he can do is sit there, eyes closed and listening to this song, reliving something he had long since forgotten but it must have been so good

• “why do you want sufganiyots as one of the deserts in our wedding Richie? It’s nowhere near Hanukkah”

“Because they look fucking delicious, that’s why. And, you said I couldn’t have that “northern lapwing”, or whatever it’s name was, statue that I wanted, so I get this.”