#my damn fuckup

[the-unseelie-court-official]

Arent you that guy that burnt their grilled cheese?

So sad

Next time add some BUTTER to that PAN you FUCKING SAVAGE

Thank you, stranger, for helping me learn more about myself

[blackghostm2oart]

I don’t even know anymore :)

This one is the reference

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

secret third take on The Situation where i'm a yellow apologist but also don't think you can blame arthur for how all that shook out. i think they both did exactly as well as could be expected given the circumstances. by which i mean bad. the circumstances were bad and they did bad.

[zahri-melitor]

Extremely silly Morrison Disease playlist shaping up:

- Catch My Disease, Ben Lee

- I Don’t Know You Anymore, Savage Garden

- Not Pretty Enough, Kasey Chambers

- The Special Two, Missy Higgins

(Uh. Choices are being made with wangst in mind. Also yes I’m old)

[widevibratobitch]

christ i know its her birthday but i just have too much to do i cant manage that i really cant. but the paralysing fucking dread of having to tell her that sure is something lol

[lucky-clover-gazette]

living alone for years has made me simultaneously feral and overly domesticated. i think it's about time to deal with past roommate trauma bc if i live alone for a few more years i'll end up existing in a slightly different reality from everyone else

[administer-distractions]

.

[nerdyqueerr]

Dont like google pixel phone

[arcticdragon531]

Do y'all ever get the sudden urge to go and save a 8 year old project from disappearing entirely from link rot? Then proceed to spend the next week, finding, downloading, and naming all of these files to make an archive that no one beyond yourself will appreciate being made?

[kirk-goes-to-gallifrey]

.

[keferon]

Eh okay so. My brain is absolutely cooked so you will probably just have to ignore the linguistic fuckups

Jazz and Prowl learning to communicate because language barrier is a thing >:D

Previous part

Jazz sometimes thinks that somewhere along his career path he lost the bar separating normal from...well...everything else.

After all he's seen, heard about, and done, he's not sure exactly how to measure what's weird and what's normal. He has..the general idea.

His own. And it's so convoluted and fucked up that he'd rather jump into a volcano than try to explain it to anyone else. Jazz thinks the little colorful aliens around him are weird as hell. He thinks they sound weird, he thinks they look weird, and he thinks he must be going crazy.

And then this big black and white robot catches his eye and Jazz's first thought is not "what the fuck??"

His first thought is

"Thank God! Someone's normal!"

Whoever this guy is, he sounds like he knows what he's doing. And most importantly, he looks just like Jazz. Well, not exactly. But close enough. After all, Jazz knows that his organization wasn't the only mech maker on the entire planet. Other countries were making Mechs too, and Jazz hadn't seen even half of them.

But he can recognize a giant robot when he sees one, okay?

The thought that another mech could be an alien doesn't even enter his mind.

So used to the constant presence of huge piloted robots around him, he looks at this one and clings to its appearance as something familiar and easily explainable. His brain says, we know how this works. There's a robot and inside the robot there's another person. It's the way it's always been. The sky is blue, the grass is green and the robots are human-piloted. It's that simple.

The guy takes him to the far corner of the room and says something. Jazz…doesn't understand..

The mech's face contorts in a surprisingly believable display of concentration. How...who built this robot? How could they make it frown?

He hears something else being said to him but again can't understand a word. Why won't this pilot get out of the mech to talk to him? Jazz doesn't have his communication frequency but surely they could at least shake hands. There must be some reason. Maybe something wrong with the air? Is it dangerous to be outside? This guy should know better, he's been here longer than Jazz, it seems.

(Damn it, whose idea was it to make a mech with a face, it's so distracting)

He rushes to activate the external speakers, because he and this guy obviously speak different languages, but it never hurts to try, right?

"So uh, I don't think you can understand English?"

Mech frowns again, trying to pick up on something familiar in a language that's apparently new to him. But finds nothing. Jazz lowers his horns sadly.

Oh well. Fuck. As if being stuck in an unknown place with unknown creatures wasn't enough, he can't even talk to anyone! How is he supposed to get out of here? Which way should he even go?

The mech waves his hand to get his attention and then pulls out a tablet and a stylus from..where ?

Jazz somehow manages to overlook the fact that the tablet is made to fit the mech's size. His head is still feels a bit…off..after that portal thingie.

"Charades it is then."

____________________

An hour and a half later, Jazz finds himself staring intensely at the screen in front of him with a surprisingly neatly drawn chart on it.

"So uh. Motion."

The other guy nods and starts drawing a walking mech. Then something that looks like a very unusual car. Then a submarine. Jazz gets a little lost looking at how skillful he is with the stylus.

Honestly, he's a good artist!

The guy points to the sketch of a walking mech and says

" Motion."

Then points to the drawing of a car driving and the columns of the chart.

"Motion-rotation" he points to the car again.

That must mean "driving" huh? Jazz nods understandingly.

Mech moves his finger to the submarine.

"Motion-Water."

Ah, it must mean swimming. Jazz nods once more, feeling like a wind-up dummy repeating the same motion a dozen times.

The mech makes a quiet humming noise and then points to the chart

"Motion. Sky."

And then gives Jazz the stylus?

Uh, what is he... Oh, he wants Jazz to figure out what it means.

"Motion" and "sky," right?

Jazz takes the stylus? Pencil? Thingie.. and very carefully draws out a crooked scribble of something only remotely resembling an airplane. The mech arches an eyebrow and looks like he wants to laugh.

Jazz shrugs awkwardly and tries to add windows to the airplane, but ends up making it look more like a severely fucked up caterpillar.

Mech snorts.

Jazz kicks him in the leg.

The airplane begs for a merciful death.

Jazz didn't really expect to get into a language class but he has to admit that whatever language he's learning now is a surprisingly easy one. It only took the other dude half an hour to show him the basic concept and from there it became a game of associations.

There were simple definitions. Like size, quantity, speed, emotion and so on.

There were signs that automatically turned the whole sentence into a question or a statement.

There were modifiers that Jazz defined in his head as positive and negative.

Positive speed - fast.

Positive size - large.

Positive direction - forward.

Positive time - future.

There were also basic words for senses, emotions and whatnot, also with modifiers.

Mouth-positive - to speak

Brain-positive - to think, but negative-brain-do-positive - to learn.

Huh.

And it's so neatly organized that Jazz wondered if this language was designed specifically to be easy to learn.

Let's see....

Mouth - positive, effort - negative.

"Easy to speak."

The guy nods contentedly and starts talking back, while pointing to the appropriate columns of the chart to make it easier for Jazz to understand.

"Creation-positive. Purpose. Person-negative-knowledge. memory-positive-effort-negative."

Jazz frowns, concentrating on his finger.

Oh. Created. For those who don't know it. Easy to learn.

He was right. The whole thing is waaaay too awkward to write poetry but learning it is a delight.

Jazz leans over the chart.

All right, well, let's see.

“Name. You. Question?”

The other guy smiles and pokes at the chart

"Me.Motion-sound-negative.Negative-eyes-positive-someone."

Walk quietly. searching?… Sneaking?

Oh, it's not "to sneak" it's "to prowl"

"Prowl" nods affirmatively. Jazz smiles at him and looks at the chart again. Okay. How to say “music”?..

“word-knowledge-negative.”

He stops to make a gesture with his hands, as if playing an invisible piano while humming a tune.

Prowl nods

“Sound-positive-positive-hearing.”

Jazz chuckles

“A whole two positives eh? Okay then. Uh. You don't look like you listen to jazz....so..”

“Me. Name. Sound-positive-positive-listening.”

Prowl raises his eyebrows. (Jazz is jealous, he wishes he had eyebrows too.)

“You're a musician?"

Jazz quickly shakes his head while simultaneously muting the outside speakers to a barely audible level and turning on one of the songs on his playlist.

Prowl twitches in surprise when he hears the melody.

Jazz waits for the intro to finish playing and then points to himself

“Creation-negative..uh..Sound-positive-positive-hearing. Jazz. This...”

He pats himself lightly on the chest.

"..is me. Jazz."

Prowl straightens up slightly

“Oh, you're not a musician, you're the music.”

Jazz nods cheerfully

“Yes yes!”

“Jaaz?”

“No no. Jazz.”

“Ah. Jazz?”

“That's right.”

Prowl draws a portal on the screen.

“You teleported here. What happened?”

Jazz hangs back, trying to construct an answer in his head. Good thing Prowl seems to have infinite patience

“So, I uh. What was 'fight'? Movement-pain-positive? I fought these things...”

He takes the tablet from Prowl and draws a crooked blot with a bunch of tentacles on it. Then thinks for a bit and adds big teeth and a lot of eyes. He's not really sure how to draw those eyes properly, so he just scatters them randomly around the monster area.

Prowl doesn't seem to be that amused by Jazz's drawings anymore, in fact, he suddenly becomes very somber.

“Quintessons.”

He pokes at the monster

“Name-Quintessons. Number-question.”

How many?

Jazz scratches the back of his head

“So uh...a lot?....number-positive-positive-positive-positive-positi...you get the idea.”

To be convincing, he dramatically spreads his arms out to the sides depicting something very large.

Prowl looks alarmed.

And unconvinced.

“How did you survive?”

Jazz laughs pretentiously

“Ask them how they survived.”

Prowl makes the “you can't be serious” face. Jazz isn't quite sure what exactly is confusing him. Mechs are designed to kill Quintessons, aren't they? Judging by his movements, this pilot must be damn good at controlling his mech, and that kind of guys usually fight on the front lines.

He decides to put that thought aside for later. There are more important things right now, like...oh shit, where is he even going??

Jazz leans over the chart again

“Uh. Right. Question-we-move-up-place” Man, how to specify... “Knowledge-negative?”

Prowl, linguistic gods bless him, understands him and starts gesturing over the chart in response

Okay. Ah. I-move-up. Planet-creation-positive.

'I'm heading home' or 'my home planet'.”

Jazz instantly perks up.

“Oh that's great, I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to go there too.”

Prowl is speaking in a language he's unfamiliar with, so he's definitely from another country, but hey, who cares as long as it's on Earth, right? He just needs to get there and he'll find his own way from there.

He watches the space debris flicker by outside the window. Even the stars are unfamiliar, Jazz can't find any constellations he knows.

One of the little purple creatures says something and Prowl steps aside to chat with them. Jazz leans back and settles into a more or less stable position. Then does the same thing, but with his real, human body. Hell, his head still feels really fucking weird after that teleportation.

He opens the comm channel and just listens to the static for a couple minutes in the faint hope that the engineering department will find a way to contact him.

Nothing.

He sighs.

“1061 on the com. In case there's any way you can hear me...ah shit. You guys won't believe what happened...”

___________

[Next]

[i-loved-silly]

(PART 2) - WOLVERINE x READER x DEADPOOL — fuckup twinsies

dp&w spoilers!! + slight gore description --- part 1

Okay, recap.

Your perfect little day in dimension-travel-jail was interrupted. You almost got knocked out by two muscular men who came down from the sky like little drunk angels, who in turn happened to be famous characters. You don't know how you didn't realize earlier, guess timeline hopping also slowly melts your brain. You should really get an MRI exam sometime.

You almost passed out again when you realized you were chest-to-chest with Deadpool. Wade Wilson. Heart to heart. Body to body. Tip to tip, if that applies to you.

"You're real. I'm real. We're real." You deadpanned, stars almost twinkling in your eyes. No, maybe it wasn't the first time you've met a Deadpool. But this guy? He was the real deal. The original. How the hell did an original end up here?

"Pfft, you thought we were just drawings on paper? Two of the world's sexiest men in skintight costumes? Wrong. We're the real deal here, friendo. Can I call you that? Or will you try to kill me? You know I really didn't mean to crash into you I rea--"

"Alright, listen here. Wade, shut up. You," Logan pointed a finger at him then at you, still being embraced by Wade. "Do you understand any of the...nonsense he's talking about? Because I don't, and I don't. Have. Time for this. It's either you help me get out of here or get out of my way."

"Woah woah woah, since when did that 'we' turn into 'me'?" Wade reluctantly let go of you to walk up to Logan, his hands landing on his hips. "You're not the only one trapped here, you know, we're kind of all in the same boat here. We all fucked up our lives and it was definitely our fault bu--ACK"

You gasped, watching in horror as three silver claws stabbed straight through Wade's torso and out his back. Logan stalked closer, his scowl deepening. "Come again?" He taunted, his teeth grinding. Before Wade could get a word out, Logan turned his hand, twisting the blades inside of him.

"G-owww, FUCK. God, I swear this happened differently in another universe. Somehow hurts more this ti--" Logan stopped him again and began lifting him up in the air. By the torso. With his claws inside, being the only thing holding him up.

Your eyes widened, "Hey, guys stop that! Logan!"  You yelled, taking a step forward, your hands held up in the air defensively.

Logan briefly glanced in your direction and grunted, tossing Wade to the side. “Move aside, bub. We need to settle some things.” Then he…lunged at Wade. They just started fucking fighting each other.

You backed up, watching everything go down. This could not be real. “I thought…you guys wanted out?” You muttered, your voice barely heard over their grunting and blades clashing.

“You know it’s true, so--argh, no hard feelings, right? Plus, I forgive you Wolvie.”

“I don’t give a damn about what you think, Wade. It’s all your fucking fault I was dragged into this. I was doing just fine without yo—“

“Just fine? You call spending all your days at bars and drinking all their supply just fine? While your life crumbles around you like a house of cards. If we were really on the TVA's watchlist, maybe they should've just sent us all to anger management sessions, huh?"

“Stop fighting!” You shouted in a voice heavy with irritation, grabbing a clump of sand from the ground and hurling it in their direction.

Logan, reacting instinctively, closed his eyes and shoved Wade aside, now choking and coughing violently. “What the hell?”

Simultaneously, Wade spun to face away, retching into the sand. “Oh god it’s inside of my mask. It’s in my face hole—“

Logan regained himself quicker than Wade, to where he immediately brushed aside the sand on his face and stomped towards you. You took a step back, by the sight of his fists clenched and white knuckles you swore he was about to beat you. “Waitwaitwait! I don’t have healing factor!” You rambled and held your hands out.

He paused in his tracks, his jaw visibly clenching as he tried to control his anger. Yeah, maybe he was used to taking out his frustrations on himself and now..Deadpool. But he couldn’t do that to you. You’re not even involved in whatever shit they got themselves into. You didn't deserve to get roped in their..mess, whatever it was. He let out an annoyed breath and swiveled away, seething internally. "I wasn't going to hurt you."

You slowly put your hands down, then looked around to see Wade still rolling on the floor. Upon hearing Logan, he snapped his head towards you both, the eyes of his mask widening. Before he could even get a little, tiny, miniscule word out, you spoke.

"ANYWAY...ehm..you both want out, yes? This is all one big mistake? I could help you. I've survived out here this long without being brutally killed." You forced a grin, facing the two. They blinked.

"Killed? What..who is in charge of killing here?" Logan narrowed his eyes.

Wade stood up to his feet, popping his wrist back into place. "There's--" His face under his mask soured, god he could still feel the sand particles crunching around between his teeth.

"ugh, there's others around? What kind of crazies would wanna live here?" He raised his arms, gesturing the vastness of this dystopian desert. Camera pans out, there's an echo to his voice, a tumbleweed passes by, you know what i mean

You scoffed, still very much salty about your own situation even though it's been years. "It's not like it was a choice. The only person could who take us out is Cassandra Nova, and she does not use her powers for that. She's basically with the freaking TVA, from what I know."

A singular laugh escaped Logan, his lips turning up in a knowing smirk, "Really now? How bad could she be?"

"Uh..let's see..multiple counts of murder, enslavement, power abuse, she's sadistic, evil, has a whole paragraph worth of powers. Unstoppable, basically?" You shrugged.

"I think we could get along."

"No, Wade."

"How do we get to her?" Logan crossed his arms. Perhaps he was the only one taking this seriously. You had gotten used to it already, but you too remembered how badly you wanted to leave this place at first.

"You two seem in a rush. "

"Yeah, well we're in a rush because I've got a whole-ass timeline to save, not to mention I also made a pinky swear to this guy over here. I promised the gruff-beard that I'd help him clean up his messy timeline, like a stain of last nights left ove-"

"Got it!" You exclaimed, interrupting him. "But uh, is that even possible? To..fix your guys' timelines, I mean."

"It better be," Logan glared at Wade. "Because otherwise, I'm going to tear you apart." He sneered, really making his point by leaning closer to him. These guys need to kiss already.

You nervously smiled. If another fight starts, you swear you were going to start ripping your own face off. "Okay! I know someone, guys! We'll all help eachother out, he's real nice, which means you probably won't like him--but he'll help! Follow me."

Oh, you knew someone alright. He was the most suburban-canadian guy you knew.

Lot's of dialogue in this, oops. This fic is kinda going off the plot of the movie, so I'm sure you know who you'll meet next! Leave ideas in the comments if you have any, since this fic is very freestyle and let me now...should i include the car scene we all wanted or too soon? GOODBYE! taglist <3 : @pink-jello-fish @radiantdanvers @superlegend216 @salted-snailz @wolfsune09 @jxssimae @remuslupinsfavoritebook @flannelforthetoads @rowanlovesmoonknight @bengewatch @i-shall-be-the-possum1 @kyriekurokami @marymustdie @tzurue @euinein @sophiemajokie @itsrainingtodayyy

[prettyinpwn]

Stan Pines: A Masterclass in Character Writing and Symbolism AKA Stan is Godly, Literally (GF Writing Analysis Pt. 5)

If you're interested in reading a similar writing analysis on Ford Pines, please visit this page.

I've wanted to write a post on Stan for a long time, because I'm going to make a bold claim: he is THE best written character in Gravity Falls. I literally have never been able to find a flaw with his writing, and the reason? Not only does he have the markers of quality I mentioned in my post about Ford's writing (a want, need, character arc, realistic flaws), but...

I would also argue he is THE main protagonist and hero of Gravity Falls if I had to pin it down to just one, and his character arc matches the external conflict, that being Bill Cipher and the theme of growing up vs. staying in childhood and ego vs. selflessness, in ways that are just - and I'm not exaggerating - poetic. And the best part is, he had a lot more time and attention in the spotlight in the show than Ford, so everything I mentioned in the other post that was good about Ford's writing, ramp that up x100 for Stan.

His character also touches on multiple other fantastic themes: breaking generational trauma, healing broken familial relationships that seem unfixable, redemption, the misunderstanding of the family "fuckup" (although Stan is not that in the least, but that's part of his character arc), positive masculinity, true brotherhood, self-love, self-identity, and probably a million others I'm missing and will find out even just as I write this.

As for the godly part, well... you'll just have to read to the end. And no, I'm not kidding or exaggerating, either.

Okay, okay, gushing aside, let's get to the analysis. I'm not sure this will be as neatly structured as Ford's was, but there are just so many damn good things about Stan's writing that it's hard to stick to just one point. Let us begin.

Stan's Backstory: I Am Not Ford and That's Bad + Protecting/Providing for Family > Everything Else

So as I discussed in my post about Ford linked above, much of Stan's childhood revolved around Ford. His entire existence as a child was summed up by one question: how do I compare to Ford? This is especially emphasized in how their father, Filbrick, treated them. One of the end credits ciphers in the show reads as follows:

"A STUBBORN TOUGH NEW JERSEY NATIVE, FILBRICK WASN’T TOO CREATIVE, HAVING TWINS WAS NOT HIS PLAN, SO HE JUST SHRUGGED AND NAMED BOTH STAN."

Haha, very funny. But OUCH. Imagine knowing that your whole name is your name, was because your father only expected one son and was too lazy to come up with anything else. So literally, Stan doesn't even have his own name - his own identity - technically. Stan also was apparently the second twin born, so came in "second" even from birth, and being Ford's (either identical or very similar fraternal) twin, well... it's hard for someone to untie their identity from their brother's with those factors surrounding them as a kid.

There are many other factors that illustrate my point (Ford got Filbrick's name as his middle name, the way Filbrick literally put Stan on the lawn for sale as a kid for failing a test, etc). All in all, Ford receives their father's love, Stan does not, although we could argue that this isn't that great for Ford, not really, as I did in my post on his writing. Because it's a love that comes with a, "I'd also like to use you." attached (just like Bill, gee).

All in all, it's very obvious from all these context clues that Ford was the beloved one, and Stan was the unexpected one, from birth to the end of Gravity Falls, where he uses that to his advantage - albeit in a different context - to defeat Bill Cipher.

Worse yet, Stan happened to have a twin that was extremely smart and talented in a way that was easily noticed. Ford is a Golden Child, as I described in his own writing analysis post, and siblings of the golden child like Stan? Well... the other sibling(s) are often the Scapegoat. As the source in the last sentence states, the Scapegoat is "often blamed for family mistakes, discarded, neglected, and has been gaslighted into believing it was their fault. The scapegoated child is usually assigned at a young age and often carries this role through to adulthood and never loses the unfortunate title.". This can highly affect the Scapegoat's self-esteem, even into adulthood.

This page also covers the Golden Child vs. Scapegoat dynamic. Pay attention to these quotes from this source:

"You are the one the parent will come after when things are going wrong."

"You are subjected to their emotional and verbal abuse the most."

"You may even feel like you need to fix your broken family."

Also, take into account these panels from the comic, Lost Legends, released after Gravity Falls ended:

Yikes. A child doesn't say these things unless a parent has taught them that everything they do is wrong and they are lesser than their sibling. This kid's noticed how Filbrick looks with pride at Ford, but not him. And here's the thing: the item Stan stole in this comic that made Filbrick mad? Stan did it to clean it to make his father proud. Sound familiar? In the events of Gravity Falls, Stan works on the portal for thirty years and gets Ford back, and he gets... yelled at for it. Stan always has good intentions. Although, Ford has a point in the above comic panel: Stan does take shortcuts that get him into trouble. He did almost get jailed by the US government and end the universe to save Ford.

But this is a consistent theme with Stan's character throughout the show. Even WE as the audience first see Stan the way his family did - a conniving scoundrel and money-grubbing criminal - but through the events of the show, just as Stan's family starts to realize it, even when Stan does things that seem bad, like stealing radioactive waste, working on a portal described as a potential cause of the end of the world, has a ton of different identities, etc... we find out Stan had good intentions all along.

Even Stan's greediness? That need for money? That also stemmed from the same good intentions, because how ELSE was he going to afford Ford's mortgage to keep the Shack in order to keep working on bringing him home? It was also likely something ingrained into him from when he was kicked out. Because Filbrick told him, basically, until you make us the money that Ford losing his chance at West Coast Tech cost us, GTFO. Literally. :'(

So Stan... really IS not what he seems. He seems like a fuckup, a criminal, a liar, and a greedy conman. But really... he's a family defender, protector, and supporter. Want to have your mind blown? Intentional or not, let's look at the very first scene we see Stan in in the series:

"Oh look, I'm a monster!"

"Just kidding, I'm not. I'm someone else under what looks like a monster."

Yes. Stan's whole character arc is foreshadowed in like... three seconds in the first episode. The very first time we see him. Not just his arc, but also his role as someone that seems deceptively evil but is actually good. And not just the arc that Ford and Dipper take from distrusting Stan to finally understanding his good intentions, but also the realization WE as viewers have about Stan as we follow the story. Additionally - which we'll get into later - it's symbolic of Stan's internal character arc he takes across the series of realizing he himself isn't the monster that his father planted in his mind as a child, but a good person worthy of love.

All of that... in a few seconds of animation. If that wasn't intentional, then DAMN did the writing gods smile on the Gravity Falls team the day they planned this scene. Back to the point about who Stan really is: the family "fuckup" (not really, but we'll get to that later), and a family defender and protector. This is the true core of Stan's character throughout the whole series. Not only was he Ford's defender as a child, protecting him from bullies, but you know those scenes the fandom universally agrees on were Stan at his most badass? Ahem...

"Everything I've worked for, everything I care about, it's all for this family!"

"Turn around and look at me, you one-eyed demon! You're a real wise-guy, but you made one fatal mistake: you messed with my family."

Yeah. Look at what Stan is doing in EVERY single one of these scenes: protecting his family. And as bad as Filbrick was, just like I explained in the post I made about Ford's writing... Filbrick also passed down some things to Stan that make him the hero he is. And it's also stuff that Stan passes down to Dipper:

Yeah, it kinda sucked for Dipper at the time. Was it a perfect way of teaching a child to be tough? Er, no, although another mark of a well-written character is that they can make mistakes and have flaws; Stan's not perfect. And the fandom has criticized the way Stan passed down this lesson to Dipper, because it can be considered very similar to the way Filbrick passed it down to Stan. But look what it did: when the world fights and threatens his family, just like Stan, Dipper fights back. With punches, too:

So... to summarize this first part: Stan was taught from childhood "I'm not Ford, and that's bad. I am a monster unworthy of love that always messes up.", and his role is a family protector, which started with how he protected Ford from bullies as a child. This is the core of his self-identity. So let's get into the writing techniques that make a well-written character that I discussed in Ford's writing analysis post...

Stan's Core Want vs. Need

I'll quote my explanation of want vs. need from my own post on Ford I made about a year ago:

"When I took writing classes in college (and over years of writing in general and drooling over writing advice podcasts and blogs), I found that the best method for me, personally, when it comes to crafting characters is to focus on two major things:

1. Their want.

2. Their need.

On the surface, these look like the same things, but in character writing, they can be vastly different. For example, say that you have a character that greatly desires fame and recognition. They want these things.

But what’s the real reason behind it? Is it because they had a parent that was famous and want to live up to their example? Is it because they want to be adored by people? Is it because they were told they’d never amount to anything by someone and want to prove them wrong?

This real reason behind it all is the core need. Yes, they want fame and recognition, but they need it because, say, they have low self-esteem and need copious amounts of outside validation to boost it.

Tied to this need is usually a backstory reason (sometimes called their wound). Say your hypothetical character was bullied a lot as a child. Or abused by a parent. Etc. Whatever the wound was, it caused a big, painful hole in their heart that they try to fill and fix with their want.

So they go on a journey. The want is often the external journey. The need is often the core journey / character arc. Our example character seeks fame and recognition on an external journey, but deep inside, they realize they need something else, which is to understand that their past trauma/wound doesn’t define them, and fame and recognition will not be the balm they expect it will be. Often, they realize they had what they needed all along. They grow past their flaws associated with their seeking this want through understanding and instead pursuing the need."

I'll summarize Stan's character writing using these concepts right here, like I did for Ford in his analysis post:

“I want to be Ford because I want to be loved like he is, and I want to protect those I care about and do the right thing. But what I need is to realize is that who I am - not Ford, but Stan - was good enough all along, proven by how I've always protected those I care about, and I never NEEDED to be Ford in the first place. This stems from a wound from my childhood where I was a scapegoat child treated like a fuckup who never did anything right and could never measure up to Ford, and was conditioned to think that being like Ford was a ticket to earn familial love. I had what I needed all along: myself, because I am good enough and worthy of love, despite what my father taught me."

Stan's Arc: I Am Not Ford... and That's Okay

AKA Stan's arc is basically: learning to love yourself and be yourself, even when you were conditioned to think you have no value. Don't believe me? Guess what Stan does for thirty years: pretends to be Ford. And he literally does it by pretending to have died. He "kills" Stanley Pines AKA himself in a staged car crash to become Stanford Pines.

And guess how he defeats Bill? By pretending to be Ford. His greatest weakness is actually his strength, and then he flips it: he reveals to Bill that he's not Ford, he's actually Stan. And THAT'S when the antagonist of Gravity Falls is truly defeated - an antagonist that represents stasis, lack of change, and with The Book of Bill's context, an antagonist that never freed himself from his own past - is when Stan learns to accept himself and admit who he really is and learns to let the past go. And it's telling that this is what he says when he does it:

"Heh. Guess I was good for something after all." AKA: "Yeah, fuck what Pa said about me."

There it is. The moment of Stan realizing his father was wrong, and he was wrong for thinking himself a fuckup all those years. And this is the expression he pulls at this moment of realization; at the peak of his character arc, all while burning in flames like a phoenix reborn. It sounds corny when I put it that way, but LITERALLY, all the fire symbolism feels like it wasn't foreshadowing Stan's death, but his rebirth as himself after pretending to be Ford all those years. He's not burning who he is, he's burning away who he thought - who he was told - he was. Funny that it takes place in the mind, huh?

This is the face of a man who is at peace and finally loves himself for the first time in his life. That ain't just his mind burning. That's him punching his demon that's haunted him and his brother their whole lives, protecting his family as always, and, symbolically, punching a demon that represents the show's overall antagonist of the shackles of staying stuck in the past, forgiveness, and the value of moving on. He literally punches the antagonist - staying stuck in the past - to pieces and THAT'S when he wins.

Also, can we talk about how Bill and Filbrick share color schemes, and Filbrick even has a brick-like pattern in his suit (also, I mean... come on, he's got 'brick' in his name)? I'll let you make your own conclusion about what that means for Stan's character arc:

It's also telling that Bill Cipher's backstory is that he burned his home dimension and loved ones - including his family - to ashes. The Axolotl - Gravity Falls' equivalent of basically God, from what I can tell - says himself about Bill in one of the books released outside of the show:

"Saw his own dimension burn. Misses home and can't return. Says he's happy. He's a liar. Blame the arson for the fire."

Bill misses home. He wants the past and to hold onto his family, just like Stan and Mabel do. Isn't it funny how whenever Bill shows up... time stops?

And look what Bill says in Weirdmageddon: "This party never stops! Time is dead and meaning has no meaning!"

Time stopped. He just wants fun. He's almost like a child that never grew up. And... look at what it was that Stan wrecked in A Tale of Two Stans as a teenager:

A perpetual motion machine. That thing that's not supposed to stop, just like time. Stan 'breaking' time by wanting to hold Ford in the past, with him, instead of leaving him to go to college while Stan was stuck in the past/Glass Shard Beach? That's what broke their brotherhood.

But what makes Stan a hero, and Bill a villain, is that he lets go of the past and his childhood. Bill never does. And he's defeated when Stan lets go of the past, something Bill never did. Why? Because he has family to make facing the future easier. He has familial and self love. Bill doesn't, because he killed his own. (Sorry, got off track again, but Stan's arc and story ties so deeply to the other characters' and the main themes that it's hard not to take some detours, because it illustrates just how well-written Stan is. Gravity Falls' story IS his story.).

Wanna know something cute? Wanna know how Stan realized he had worth during that scene after he defeats Bill? Why I'm betting the show runners showed Stan clutching to a picture of Dipper and Mabel as this happens? I'll give you one guess why Dipper and Mabel are so important to Stan, and why he clutches to their photo even as his mind is burning apart in the finale:

They're the first family members since Ford (whose love he'd lost) who loved Stan for who he was, not for who they thought he should have been. Mabel trusting Stan in Not What He Seems is basically the first damn time Stan's heard in thirty plus years from a family member that, "Hey, I trust you have good intentions and aren't just a lying fuckup. You're not a monster. You're not what you seem.".

Also, he's protecting his family. That always makes him happy, too, of course.

Ego Death and the "Stan is Godly" Part

Yep, we're taking this analysis post train all the way to "damn this is deep and PrettyinPwn is likely crazy for noticing it" station. The only reason I'm tacking this part on is that I saw a Q&A with Hirsch recently that sparked my attention. He was on his The Book of Bill tour, and someone asked if there was anyone more powerful than Bill in Gravity Falls lore. Of course, Hirsch said the Axolotl, but what he said about what Bill vs. the Axolotl stands for caught my eye:

The video in question. The question and answer starts around 21:22. The quote I want to point out is, though, is what we learn about these two beings:

Hirsch: "Bill's weaknesses in terms of his overconfidence, his ego, and his lack of ability to focus on one thing at a time are things that a being that has no ego, thinks on a long scale, and does have empathy is actually stronger than him because of those things."

So when we boil the conflict of Bill vs. the Axolotl down to simple terms - what makes evil vs. good in the Gravity Falls universe - is this: ego and selfishness vs. no ego and empathy.

Guess which characters wrestle with these themes? The correct answer is: ALL of them. But especially Stan and Ford. This is really what their conflict is about at the core. They both struggled with ego and selfishness, and that's when - in the story - they lose most. But they win when they choose selflessness and empathy. When they... drum roll, please... partake in ego death.

Well, let's describe an ego death. First, we must define what an ego is (source for all of the following quotes):

Ego: "The ego is a sense of self that you develop at a young age." and, "-relates to your feelings about your own importance and abilities.".

*cough "I'm the family fuckup and poor man's version of Ford because that's what people taught me to believe in my youth." cough*

And an ego death "-is the (often instantaneous) realization that you are not truly the things you've identified with, and the "ego" or sense of self you've created in your mind is a fabrication. In some instances, it can offer a profound feeling of peace and connectedness with all that is, as the walls of separation the ego creates come crumbling down."

*cough "I'm not Ford's poor copy, I'm not a fuckup, I have worth, and I realize this in my literal mind as I pull this expression-

-of total peace as the walls of my mind literally BURN around me" cough*

And, "When one comes through on the other side having released all the things they've identified with, with only their true spirit left, Kaiser says, they begin to live from a place of pure love."

*cough "I'll hold a picture of the ones I love and realize self-love as my mind burns around me because this is who I really am: a man who protects and loves my family and my family loves me" cough*

Cheeky asides, well... aside, are you seeing what I'm getting at, folks? Look, I can't prove that Hirsch and crew intended all this, but in my opinion: you wanna know why there are so many gags of Stan or versions of him melting or burning in the show? Why fire is such an important symbol surrounding him? Why there are so many times he's killed his own identity and became a "new" man again and again and again, be it as a young grifter, or as a drifter who became his brother to bring him back again, or as an old man who "killed" his own mind to save the world and his memories returned?

Because it's ego death. The rebirth of true self from a lie you were living. That's literally what Stan's arc is a metaphor for. Even better, he reaches his character arc's zenith when he does this:

That's not an old man punching a stupid little bastard. That's an old man punching what threatens his family, punching his own past, punching his own demons, punching his brother's demon, punching his prior identity, and - given that we know that Bill is a symbol of ego now - punching the personification of literal ego and letting it burn. There are, let's count, seven symbolic meanings in that punch at the very least. Maybe eight if you count that the rightside-up triangle is the alchemical symbol for fire, and by Stan beating it, it's symbolism of his defeating the fire that's eating his memories AKA why he gets his memories back. I could find more, probably.

And yes, the chubby old conman we love so much - and is the opposite of spiritual both in action and in Hirsch's words (he's said Stan is an atheist as an adult) literally has a character arc where he attains spiritual enlightenment that aligns with the god of the Gravity Falls universe - the Axolotl, who has no ego as Hirsch said - hidden under many layers of symbolism. I don't know if Hirsch and the writing crew planned this with Stan, but holy damn... this is what I meant when I said that Stan is the best written character in Gravity Falls, even if this part was unintentional. There are just so many layers of meaning here.

And the best part? Stan was this hero all along. Everything we cheer him on for - be it punching zombies to protect his niblings or spending three decades of his life trying to get his brother back - is when he's being selfless and empathetic. We love Stan as a character because he has a big heart. He's a good person because, as we described above, he is - through beating ego in a universe where its god represents a lack of ego - godly.

No, fangirls, put the sexy Hunkle art down. I mean literally spiritually godly in the Gravity Falls universe, at least in the way good and evil is portrayed in the themes and worldbuilding. No, I'm not exaggerating, either. Let's return to that quote about the Axolotl's powers and why he's stronger than Bill:

"-that a being that has no ego, thinks on a long scale, and does have empathy is actually stronger than him (Bill) because of those things."

Well... guess what Stan does? He loses his ego so hard he regularly kills his own identity multiple times in his life and goes through a symbolic ego death, he thinks on a long scale (thirty years long), and is empathetic and selfless to the point of sacrifice. And the Axolotl in real life lore? Xolotl, the god of Aztec myth? Guess what he's a god of (source):

Why I highlighted "vulture"? Honestly, this is just a neat little thing I wanted to point out, and was a part of a massive theory I was writing about Stan and Bill that sadly never came to fruition (although I may return to it someday), but here's a hint: what was Stan and Ford's school mascot in New Jersey?

I'll let you take away from all the above what you will. Let's just say: there are a LOT of similarities between Stan and the Axolotl and its real life god counterpart, Xolotl. Does that that mean he's literally the Axolotl when I say he's godly in the Gravity Falls setting? Maybe not.

Here's one last odd something that caught my eye. This is also a leftover from that theory I mentioned above, but I'll just... leave this here, because I don't think anyone else has ever pointed it out before and it expands on what I've been talking about:

Stan in the opening. The first time we see this guy, technically. He's sitting in his favorite chair. And as we all know, he turns to look at something. But just where the hell does he turn to look?

Half of you are like, "Well, what? What's he looking at?". There's a blue glow to his right, and you know what that blue glow is? The tank, which happens to have...

Could be a coincidence, maybe unintentional, but it's... kind of odd, not gonna lie. To have a character that embodies the traits of the setting's god look over at the setting's god the first time viewers see him. Just... a bit strange... and Xolotl was also a shapeshifter god, and given that Stan goes through so many identities in his life... and axolotls are able to regenerate limbs and so are a symbol of healing and rebirth like Stan - whose whole story is about healing and having multiple "rebirths" - is...

Anyways, I've gotten far off track mentioning things from that theory just for fun that I never posted. I may still post it, so I won't spoil all of it or list any more of the very odd coincidences between Stan and the Axolotl, but all you need to know from this post is that Stan shares a lot of similarities with his setting's god in symbolism, and embodies the power of the Axolotl AKA godliness in the Gravity Falls universe: no ego, selflessness, and knowing how to play a long game, because those are exactly the traits he uses to defeat Bill, as well as the traits that help him resolve his character arc wound.

So... now what?

I'm not really sure what to put here, to be honest. This post was a lot more meandering than Ford's was, but that's because there are so many different aspects of Stan's writing that are amazing, especially in symbolism. I hope it was coherent and made sense. A part of me was considering leaving out the ego death and Axolotl parts, but I thought it interesting enough to keep in. Let me know your thoughts!

[everwalldigan]

I love me some delicious miscommunications so:

Bruce and Jason standing off (again) after a mission actually gone right and Bruce is looking constipated trying to articulate how proud he is while Jason’s just pissed as fuck that he accidentally followed the bats’ rules and

Jason, fuming, thinking to himself: Bruce must be behind this, he MANIPULATED me into playing by the rules the asshole I didn’t even get to shoot ANYBODY today im never teaming up with them again my reputation is ruined people are gonna think I’ve gone SOFT

Bruce, going through five stages of grief just trying to find a way to say that he’s proud of Jason without him getting decked in the face and Jason running away: today showed me that you will always be your father’s son (he means himself)

Jason, thoughts immediately going to Willis because Bruce would obviously never address him as his son: actually fuck you, fuck you never speak to me again I can’t believe I was stupid enough to agree to this what the hell is wrong with you

So, on one hand. now you have Bruce face palming because he’s sure he articulated himself in a way that couldn’t be misinterpreted so Jason obviously wants nothing to do with him and oh great they’re back to not speaking terms but hey at least Jason didn’t shoot at him so he obviously understood what he meant, right?? Right????

Meanwhile on the other hand Jason is capital H Hurt and so so angry about it because what the actual fuck. He’s TRYING to reform but obviously nothing will ever be enough for golden standards Bruce so he should just go back to at least beating criminals within an inch of their lives because he wasn’t going to prove Bruce right no matter how much he wants to take those pieces of shit off the streets permanently.

And of course, because both of them would rather shoot themselves in the foot than, I don’t know, talk, it results in a huge falling out and Jason’s “shoot at the Bats on sight” rule is back, until one day just happens to trap Bruce and Jason together in a warehouse rigged to explode. They accidentally went after the same gang and got themselves captured instead in the confusion. So Jason’s watching Bruce frantically trying to dismantle the bomb while sitting back casually taunting him like

Jason: you know damn well your cape’s gonna protect you from most of the explosion and the whole building is deserted by now, why are you trying so hard? The only one who’ll bite the dust is Willis’ son, fitting ending isn’t it? Always his son until the very end, you said it yourself!

And holy mothers of all fuckups Batman, there hasn’t been miscommunication this bad since the aftermath of the Tower of Babel

Bruce, turning around with the dismantled bomb in his hand, actively inventing new stages of grief: I was referring to myself actually.

[shininguponthestars]

sorry for vagueposting on main sometimes u just freak the fuck out over something thays so nothing. the gnomes they catch us all

the tumblr mobile app is evil and actually i need to explode

[bloatedandalone04]

In The Way I Need You | Part 12

Series Masterlist

➪in which you and clay spend some much needed alone time together, and you find out some scary things that come with falling in love with him.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 5.4k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | THANK YOU FOR 4.8K FOLLOWERS

Clay was in a significantly better mood now that he fixed things between you and him, and he was making damn sure to not have a third fuckup any time soon. 

He was lucky to have had you forgive him twice already, he was sure he was on thin ice with you by this point. Now that you and he had talked things through, he was determined to prove to you that he was all in with you. 

His mother had just left with Joey, and Clay already missed his kid more than he thought he would in so little time. 

But you were already on your way over. 

Clay had texted you and asked if you wanted to spend the weekend with him since the house would be empty, and he felt like he needed to make up for the time he spent away from you during the week while you were pissed at him. 

Your instant response of ‘YES’ had him feeling like a fucking teenager again who had just invited his crush over, but he was pushing twenty eight, and you were his girlfriend. 

He spent a good portion of his morning tidying up the already spotless house and trying to think of ways he could make this weekend as casual yet romantic as possible. As he was tidying up the kitchen counters, he remembered watching the maids his mom hired when he was younger clean up, and then he realized they only stopped once he brought Joey home. How privileged can one guy, no, one family be?

Just as he heard you call out to him from downstairs, informing him of your arrival, his phone went off with an incoming call from Jack, his friend and doctor that saved his life when he had his heart attack a few years back. Clay sighed and quickly walked over to the top of the stairs, calling out, “Up here,” before he answered his phone. 

“Clay, good to hear your voice, buddy,” Jack said in his usual cheerful voice as Clay leaned against the banister. 

“Hey, Jack,” he greeted just as you reached the top of the stairs and saw that he was on the phone, your overnight bag slung over your shoulder making him smile. Your brows rose and you brought a finger up to your lips, signaling that you would be quiet as you walked over to him and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. 

“I’m just calling to make sure you’re still coming by on Monday for a checkup,” 

“Yeah, that’s the plan,” Clay answered, snaking his arm around your waist when you began to pull away. He tugged you back to him and held you against his chest as he continued. “I actually have company right now, is that all you needed?”

“Company?” Jack laughed and Clay could hear the squeak of his doctor’s office chair in the background. “I thought Mrs. Beresford was away with the youngest this weekend.”

“She is,” Clay confirmed, looking down at you with a smirk as you stared up at him, waiting for him to finish his call. “It’s a different kind of company, Jack.”

“Oh, I see,” Jack mumbled. “I’ll let you go then. See you on Monday, Clay.”

Clay was already pulling the phone away from his ear as he muttered, “Yeah, see you then,” and ended the call. He slipped his phone into his pocket and wrapped his other arm around you, pulling you right up against him as he finally greeted you. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi,” you laughed, bracing your hands on his chest. “Who was that?”

“My doctor,” he murmured, leaning down to brush his nose against yours. 

He saw the way your eyes widened slightly as you pulled back. “Your doctor? Why was he calling? Is everything okay?”

Clay laughed quietly and felt a warmth take over his body at how concerned you sounded. “Everything’s fine, baby,” he rasped, watching as your shoulders dropped in relief. “I have a checkup on Monday after Joey goes to school.” 

You nodded, smoothing out his t-shirt. “Got it,” 

He hummed, leaning down to kiss you softly, feeling the way your fingers immediately bunched up his shirt and made it wrinkled again. “Do you want to come with me?”

You pulled back again, your brows furrowing slightly. “To your appointment?”

“Yeah,” Clay nodded, gripping your waist. “I’ll have the rest of the day to myself until Joe comes home.” 

You pressed your lips together and slid your hands higher up until you were holding onto his shoulders. “Oh, well in that case,” you trailed off, leaning up to kiss him quickly. “Yes, I want to come with you.”

Clay grinned down at you and bumped your nose with his again before kissing you deeply. You hummed against his lips as he took your bag from you and slung it over his own shoulder, then you were pulling away with a pretty smile. “I’ll take this upstairs,”

“Are you going to put it in the guest room?” You teased, leaning against the wall opposite of the banister as he walked around you. 

Clay paused on the second step, matching your smirk as he braced one hand on the railing. He remembered the first night you stayed here and how you slept in the guest room, and then he remembered the one night you slept with him in his bed after he picked you up, and his smirk grew. “If you want to sleep in there, sure,” he answered, walking up a few more steps. “But my bed is comfier. You know that.”

You smiled and looked down. “Have you eaten today?”

“Uh, no,” he answered, pausing his ascent again. “I spent most of my morning cleaning.”

“I can tell,” you laughed, looking around the second floor hallway. “It looks great in here. And you know what? For all your hard work, I’m going to make you lunch.”

Clay smiled and shook his head. “You don’t have to do that, baby,”

“I want to, and I am going to. Jess told me this really good sandwich recipe she has at the cafe, and it’s all I’ve been craving recently,” you said, pushing off the wall and beaming up at him. “So I’m going to make it for you. You’ll like it, I promise.” 

“I like anything you make,” Clay murmured and you grinned before turning and making your way towards the kitchen. He shook his head again before finally walking up to the third floor and going right past the guest room door and towards his. 

He set your bag down on the edge of his bed, doing a quick scan of his room to make sure there was nothing that resembled Sam - even though he knew there wasn’t - before heading back downstairs. 

When he walked into the kitchen, he found you sitting at the table with two plates in front of you. You hadn’t touched yours, which made a dumb smile form on his face as he moved to sit down next to you. “That was fast,” 

You shrugged, pushing the second plate towards him. “You have to be fast if you work at Jess’,” 

Clay nodded in understanding, and he noticed how you still hadn’t eaten anything and were probably waiting for him to take the first bite, so without another word, he picked up the perfectly made sandwich and bit into it. 

“So?” You asked, not even three seconds after he began chewing, nervously sliding your plate closer to you. 

He laughed, waiting until he swallowed to answer you. “You were wrong, I don’t like it,” he started, smirking at the way your face dropped a bit. “I love it. Best thing I’ve eaten all month.”

You reach over and lightly smack him on the shoulder, letting out an amused scoff. “Don’t mess with me like that,” you scolded, but he knew you didn’t mean it. One of his favorite things about you was how easily you and he got along, and how you were able to tease each other like this from day one.

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughed, setting the sandwich down as he looked over at you with a small smirk. 

“No you’re not,”

“No, I’m not,” he replied immediately and you both looked at each other for a few seconds before he was moving his chair back and you were out of yours. You settle on his lap, your food long forgotten as you grip the sides of his face and press your lips to his. Clay leaned back against the chair as his hands grab your waist, leaning up to deepen the kiss while you moan softly against his mouth. “I missed you.”

You smile, tracing your fingers along his jaw. “You just saw me yesterday after work,” you teased, brushing your nose against his. “But I guess I missed you, too.” 

Clay grinned, sliding his hands up your sides. “You just miss my kid and my fridge,” 

A blush took over your face as you bit down on your lip. “It’s your fault for having such a cute kid and an immaculate taste in diet soda,” you beamed then your eyes trailed over to the dining room table. Clay knew what you were looking at, but he still followed your gaze anyway. “Wow…that’s a pretty rose, Mr. Beresford.” 

Clay laughed, squeezing your hips and helping you stand up. “I’m glad you think so,” he murmured, standing up as well before walking over to the bigger table and picking up the single rose. “It’s for you.”

Your blush deepened as you took it from him. “Clay,” you said quietly, bringing the rose up and inhaling the fresh scent. “I love it…it reminds me of…” 

Clay watched as your eyes widened slightly and you moved closer to him. “Reminds you of what?”

Your eyes darkened a bit as you answered, “Reminds me of when we went to Times Square and I told you that story about my neighbors and the roses,” 

Clay’s brow curved up and he shrugged. “I vaguely remember that,” he lied, obviously, too. Of course he remembered the story about Mark and Cindy, and he especially remembered how happy you got when you told him. And maybe he wanted to be the Mark to your Cindy for a day and give you a rose when you got here. 

You shake your head, letting him take the rose again and set it down on the table as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. Then you were leaning up to kiss him, trailing your fingers through his hair as his arms wrapped around your waist. “Thank you for the rose,” you mumbled against his lips, tugging at the hair on the back of his neck as he gripped the backs of your thighs. “And for thinking of me.”

“I’m always thinking about you,” he confessed as he brushed his lips along your pulse point. “You and Joey, all the time.”

You let out a soft whimper as he lifted you up and placed you on the table next to the rose. “I’m so glad I have no sense of direction,” you laughed quietly, caressing his face as he thought back to when he met you; when you spilled your coffee all over his shirt and then bombed your interview at that hotel, giving him the perfect opportunity to have you be around him almost daily. 

“Me too,” he rasped, bunching up your shirt in his hands as he leaned back up to kiss you. “Who knew ruining a two hundred dollar shirt would end up being the start of something so good.”

You pull back after only letting him kiss you for a second, your eyes wide as you grab onto his shoulders. “That shirt was two hundred dollars?!” You asked in disbelief, making the corners of his lips turn upwards. 

“Around there,” he nodded, “Yeah.”

“Clay!” You gasped, tightening your hold on him. “Now I feel even worse! You have to let me pay for it.”

Clay laughed, shaking his head as he began placing kisses along your collar bones. “It happened weeks ago, baby,” he murmured. “Trust me, with all you’ve done for me and Joey, it’s already more than paid off.” 

Another pretty blush took over your face as you massaged the sides of his neck with your thumbs. “Are you sure? Now that I’m working at Jess’, I can-”

Clay cut you off with a quick kiss to your lips, shaking his head once he pulled away. “I’m positive,” he said, “Now can we go back to eating? Then maybe we can pick this up?”

You smirk and nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he helped you down from the table. “Sure, though maybe not on the dining room table?” You laughed as he led you back towards the kitchen after you picked up the rose again. “As nice as it is…it’s not the most comfortable thing.”

“Of course, babe,” he grinned, sitting back down at the smaller table, and he was once again reminded of how privileged he really is. 

-

Instead of going back to your makeout session on the table, Clay guided you towards the living room. 

You weren’t complaining; you had a strange infatuation with the living room ever since you had your first kiss with him in there. You also spent most of your time with Joey in there when you were watching him, so it was definitely your favorite room in a house full of rooms. 

It was nearing six in the evening and Clay offered to put a movie on so you both could unwind from the past work week. Since you picked the last one, you told him to choose one as you got the pillows and blankets sorted on the couch. 

He was crouched down and rummaging through the cabinet of DVD’s you shamelessly organized one night when you were babysitting Joey as you sat down on the couch and looked at the coffee table. There were cards scattered on it, some overturned and showing off someone’s impressive hand, and you bit your lip as you glanced over at your boyfriend. “Hey, Clay,” you laughed, leaning back against the couch. 

“Yeah, babe,” he called back, looking over his shoulder at you. 

You gestured to the table, “You play often?”

Clay furrowed his brows, turning back to the cabinet and grabbing something before standing up. When he caught sight of the cards, he laughed. “Oh, yeah,” he answered, walking over and putting the disk in the DVD player. “My mom and I do. Well, she plays, I lose.”

You let out a laugh, draping a blanket over your lap as you look up at him. “That’s adorable,”

Clay shook his head and you could’ve sworn you saw a faint blush spread across his face. “We played for a bit before bed last night,” he said, leaning over to pile the cards in a stack. “I can’t believe I cleaned every inch of this place but managed to forget about the coffee table.”

“It’s alright, I think the spotlessness of every other inch makes up for it,” you teased, reaching for the bowl of popcorn you made after the very late lunch. 

“As long as you’re impressed by it,” he grunted, setting the card stack in the middle of the coffee table before leaning back and wrapping his arm around your shoulders. 

“It doesn’t take much,” you admitted, looking up at the TV. “What movie did you pick?”

As soon as you asked that, the menu for Twister came onto the screen. “I hope you like disaster movies,” Clay grinned over at you. “If I have to watch one more Disney movie, I might never watch anything else again.”

You laughed, leaning into his side. “How many Disney movies does Joey make you watch?” 

Clay huffed, “Too many,” and pulled you closer to him. “But I wouldn’t trade those moments in for anything.”

A smile formed on your face and you pressed your cheek against his bicep. “You’re so sweet, Clay,” you whispered, lacing your fingers with his as the opening scene of the movie started. “Watching you and Clay together…it just makes me feel things. I don’t know how to explain it.”

Clay pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m the same way when I get to come home early and see you and him together, too,” he confessed. “Joey never really had someone other than my mom and I in his life. He’s so used to us, he never really gets to be around other people. That’s another reason I’m glad he’s in school now.”

You blushed, laying your head against his chest. “Having you be the main person in his life doesn’t seem too bad,” you teased. 

Another kiss was pressed to your head, followed by a quiet laugh. “You’re sweet,” 

It was nearing the end of the movie when you shifted and cuddled closer to Clay’s side. He wasn’t in his usual attire of a suit, he was clothed in sweats and a t-shirt, and you were feeling the same way you felt the night he picked you up from Hanson’s. 

You wanted him. 

But exactly how much could you have of him? You weren’t entirely sure, but there was no harm in asking. 

You knew about his heart condition, but you didn’t know the full extent of it. 

When the last scene of the movie began, you moved to sit back against the couch, putting some space in between the two of you. Clay’s eyes drifted from the screen and over to you, his arm loosening around your shoulders. “Everything okay?” 

You nodded, playing with the corner of the blanket you and he were sharing. “Of course,” you trailed off, turning to face him. “Can I be nosey?”

Clay’s mouth turned upwards and he turned to you as well. “Always,”

You smiled at that, leaning your head against the top of the backrest. “Your heart condition…how bad is it?” 

Instead of him getting defensive about it or shutting down the topic, he took your hand in his. “About as bad as a heart condition can be,” he answered, his thumb tracing the back of your hand. “I’m on a transplant list, but it’s been years now. I got on it when I had my heart attack.”

His words leave you speechless for a second as you process them, your face quickly beginning to heat up. “You…you had a heart attack?” You asked in a whisper, your hold on his hand tightening. “When?”

“When I was twenty,” he rasped, shifting closer to you. 

You swallowed, looking down at your joined hands. “What happened? Did something trigger it?”

“It was sudden, nothing really happened to trigger it,” he said quietly. “I was told when I was a teen that having one was really likely, but I wasn’t prepared for it to happen a few years later.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but stopped himself short. You didn’t know if you wanted him to continue since your body was already on fire and your hands were shaking. But you also wanted to know everything you possibly could know about him and his condition. “What are you not telling me?”

“Baby,” he trailed off, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “In the hospital, my heart stopped and I died for a few minutes.”

“Clay,” you gasped, holding onto his hand even tighter. You hadn’t realized just how serious it actually was. He died. You felt like you were going to be sick as you used your grip on his hand to keep yourself grounded, despite the fact that you were already sitting. “Oh, my God.”

“I know,” he whispered, letting you cling onto his hand. “It’s scary. A few years later I had Joey, and then Sam left, and I nearly had another one because of the stress I felt with her being gone. I guess that’s why my mom is so protective of me…it was a hard time for her. I don’t think she’s fully moved past it yet.”

You nodded in understanding, pressing the back of his hand against your cheek. “Thank you…for telling me,” 

Clay frowned a bit as he ran his knuckles along your cheekbone. “I don’t want this to change anything, okay? I don’t want you to think I’m just waiting around to…you know,” he mumbled and you were glad he didn’t finish that sentence. “I’m okay for now, and there’s nothing anyone can do to change that until they find me a donor.” 

You nod again, looking up at him with a guarded expression. “Okay…”

“I mean it,” he stated, “What you and I have…it makes me forget about all of it. Joey and my mom, too. I don’t want to be just another sick person, and I don’t want that to be what you see me as. So please, don’t treat me differently now that you know everything.”

You bite down on your lip and nod slowly, looking down at your hands as you run your thumb along his fingers. “I won’t,” you whisper, hoping you could stay true to your word. “I promise, I won’t.”

“Okay,” he said quietly, bringing his other hand up and caressing your jaw. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

Raising your brow, you give him a pointed look. “Unlikely,”

Clay huffed out a laugh, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your mouth. “I’m fine,” he promised, tugging at your bottom lip with his thumb. 

You believed him, “Okay,” and then you were kissing him again, but a lot more gently than you have in the past. You knew you were already breaking your promise to him, but you couldn’t help it. The chance of him having another heart attack and surviving was extremely unlikely, even you knew that, and you refused to be witness to it. 

But Clay wasn’t easily fooled. “Babe,” he groaned, pulling away and giving you a stern look. “Baby, you don’t have to treat me like glass. I told you, I’m fine.”

“But-”

“Nothing,” he cut you off, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. “But nothing. I can handle my mom treating me like I’m broken, but not you…not you.”

You hold back another complaint and nod, and he gave you a look that told you he didn’t fully believe you. Without another word, he pulled you onto his lap and held you against his chest. “Clay-”

“Don’t worry about me, okay? I’ve told you everything you should know, and I’m trusting that it won’t change anything between us,” he murmured, leaning in and kissing along your neck. 

“Okay,” you agreed, feeling the worry and fear begin to fade away. What replaced it was an undying want and need for the man you’ve grown to care so much about. The man you were sure you’re falling completely in love with. “I just…I like you, so much.” He didn’t need to know that your fondness for him had grown tremendously since the day you met him. 

Clay hummed, pulling back to look you in the eyes. “I like you, too. So much,” he said, and you were given no choice but to believe him. You shared a look, one that showed how much you both wanted each other. Perhaps even needed. Clay’s expression softened and his hands caressed either side of your face, “Do you want this?”

You swallowed and slowly nodded, reaching up to hold onto his wrists. “But if you can’t-”

Clay cut you off with a kiss this time, and he wrapped his arms around your waist. “I think we both know that I can,” he grinned and you felt your face heat up in a blush as you realized that he definitely can since he ended up being a father at twenty two.

“Right,” you muttered, a bit embarrassed now. 

But Clay just laughed, holding you close to his chest as he stood up. “Right,” then he was carrying you towards the stairs while the end credits for the movie played.

-

Clay felt like he was shaking as he carried you into his room and gently set you down on his bed. 

He hadn’t been intimate with someone since Sam, and that was quite a few years ago now. He never felt the desire or want to until he met you, and suddenly all he wanted was to feel that sense of closeness, both physically and emotionally. 

Clay turned around and closed the door out of habit, and when he looked at you again, you had kicked your leggings off, leaving you in just your panties and shirt. His hands were shaking a bit as he pulled off his tee, and he tossed it aside to find later as he crawled onto the bed and hovered over you. “I’m gonna ask one more time,” he whispered, bracing his elbows on either side of your head. “Do you want this?”

Your eyes were wide and needy as you nodded up at him, your hands sliding up his chest. “I want this,” you said back, “I want you.”

Clay smiled down at you, leaning in to brush his nose against yours before kissing you deeply. “You’re perfect,” he mumbled, kissing down your neck as his hands played with the hem of your shirt. “Anyone ever told you that?”

He almost didn’t believe you when you slowly shook your head, but you never gave him a reason not to believe you, so he wasn’t going to start now. “No,” you answered as he tugged the thin material of your shirt up your body. “Never.”

Clay’s eyes darkened a bit at both the sight of your exposed stomach and your words. “What kind of boys have you been with before this, baby?” He teased, watching as a pretty blush took over your features. 

“They’re not important,” you mumbled, lifting your body so he could pull your shirt the rest of the way off. 

“That’s right,” he praised, his eyes raking over your lace covered chest. “They’re not important.”

His fingers played with the straps of the pretty, light blue bra you were wearing, his eyes damn near the same shade as the material. You moaned softly as he stared down at you. “They’re not you,” 

Clay’s eyes flickered up to meet yours as he reached around you and unclasped the lacy fabric and slid it down your arms. “No, they’re not,” he hummed in agreement, dropping your bra to the floor as he pressed kisses down your chest. Your hands tangled in his hair as his moved up to grope your soft breasts, his lips peppering kisses all over you. 

“Clay,” you moaned, pulling softly on his hair. “I need you.”

Your words, the beautiful things they were, had him growing hard for you, and he slid his hands down your body as he leaned in and kissed you deeply. “Say that again,” he nearly begged, running his fingers along the waistline of your white, but equally as lacy panties. 

You oblige instantly, “I need you,” and reach for his sweats. “Please.”

Truthfully, Clay needed you just as badly, if not more. 

He would’ve spent his time with you, but he couldn’t handle much more either. Four years without touching someone will do that to you. 

Clay pushed the lace down your legs, his fingers slowly dipping into you as you worked on ridding him of his sweats and boxer briefs. You were wet, and took his fingers eagerly as you moaned his name and returned your hands to his hair. “Please,” you begged again. “Please please…please.”

He groaned, pulling his hand away from you. “Okay, baby,” he rasped, reaching for his nightstand. “Just let me get-”

“We don’t need one,” you quickly say, looking up at him with hooded eyes. “My last boyfriend was when I was nineteen, and I’m not the kind of girl to sleep around. I’m clean, I promise.”

Clay’s eyes darkened even more as he settled back down on top of you. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you answer, biting down on your lip as you grab hold of his shoulders. “Unless you want to use one…that’s okay, too. I don’t know when your last relationship was.”

“Yeah, you do,” he laughed quietly, reaching down to hike one of your legs around his waist. 

Your eyes widened a bit, “She was your last? Like, the last person you-”

“Yeah,” he answered, resting his forehead against yours. “She was my last. I never felt the need or want to be with someone else after. Then I met you.”

Your expression softened and you wrapped your leg tight around him, giving him the silent signal to take that final step. “Clay…” you trailed off, parting your lips to say more as he slowly pushed into you. Your words die on your tongue as you moan against his lips when he leaned down to kiss you, and the tightness of your body as his eyes squeezing shut. 

He braced his forearms next to your head as he pulled out halfway, only to bury himself back in. A deep groan left his mouth as you took each thrust, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you tilt your head back. “You feel so good,” he praised, pushing his face against the side of your neck as he began to rock into you. “So good.”

You moaned softly, wrapping your other leg around his waist. “Clay…oh, my God,”

He grunted, kissing along your neck as he started to move faster, almost as if he wanted to prove to you that he wasn’t as fragile as people say he is. His heart was weak, but that was the only part of him that was. “Baby,” 

Your eyes roll back as you drop your head against his pillow. “Clay, you feel so good…I knew it,” you gasped quietly, holding onto him tightly. “I knew you would. I knew it would feel so good with you.”

And somehow he knew it, too. “Yeah?” He breathed out, feeling the way you clenched tightly around him. “You’ve been thinking about this?”

He thought the way he added a teasing edge to his voice would make you blush again, but you just nodded shamelessly. “All the time,” you admitted and he groaned quietly, his jaw going slack as he thrusted into you a bit harder. “God, Clay, I want you all the time.”

He’s been thinking about you, too, and you were even better than he thought you would be, if that is even possible. He was convinced no one has ever felt better than you, but he had no plans to further test that theory out.

“Fuck,” he moaned, reaching for your hand. He laces his fingers with yours and pins them to the pillow beside your head, leaning down to kiss you. You whimpered against his mouth and the sound only made him want to keep going and make you forget all about the guys you were with before. The ones that didn’t deserve you. 

Clay wasn’t usually a jealous guy, but he was sure that would change in no time, as long as he stayed with you. 

“Oh, God,” you moaned, pulling away from the kiss with swollen, wet lips as you buried your face against his shoulder. “I’m close.” You said it with a bit of disbelief in your voice, making him believe that he was the first one to bring you to the edge this quickly. 

To be fair, you were both pent up with desire and want for each other, and a few days ago, Clay was sure he would have never gotten to experience this with you because of the picture you found. 

But here you were, whining and writhing beneath him and letting him hear all the pretty and perfect sounds that came from your lips. 

“Please,” you begged. “Don’t stop…I’m so close.”

Clay continued to roll his hips into yours, and soon enough you were moaning loudly, your fingers grabbing onto his hair and your back arching off the bed. “There you go,” he muttered, watching your face as you came undone for him. He felt his own release creeping up on him, and he managed to find enough control to be able to ask, “Where…where can I..”

You whined, brushing your lips against his ear as you answered, “Inside…don’t stop,”

Clay squeezed his eyes shut as he let out a deep groan, his pace faltering as he came. “Oh, fuck…baby,” he huffed, burying his face against your neck as he wrapped you up in his arms. 

You moaned quietly, running your fingers through his hair as he rolled you onto your sides. “Are you okay?” You asked in a soft voice, trailing your hands down to his neck. 

Clay let out uneven breaths as he nodded, taking your hand in his and looking down at you. “I’m okay,” 

“You promise?” You ask again, tangling your legs with his. He leaned in and brushed his lips against yours before pulling away and nodding, a lazy smile on his lips as he held you close. 

“I promise,”