#those two are sarcastic sadistic little suckers

[dandey-lion]

Dad!Pariah Dark AU.

Phantom and Raven are besties.

✔️ Not completely Human

✔️ Bad Powerful Fathers

✔️ Some connection to spirits/ghosts

✔️ Can see things others can’t

✔️ Understand things others don’t

✔️ Lots of abilities

✔️ Big emotions can cause loss of control

✔️ Pressured

✔️ Found Family

Besties.

[im-gonna-draw]

Name: Ruben

Affiliation: Moon Court (against his will)

Personality: Traits: selfish, cunning, rude, sarcastic, temperamental, lonely, self-destructive

Likes: stealing, scheming, being alone, reading, drinking, treasure, flirting, fortune-telling, gambling, causing pain with his thievery

Dislikes: Ella and her sickening kindness (initially), teamwork, generosity, politics, magic, any kind of vulnerability, royalty (Kieran in particular)

Skills: stealth, lock-picking, swiftness, acting

Bio: A thief from a kingdom far away. He was born in your run-of-the-mill slums, with little a penny to his name. When he was a child of 10, his younger brother was kidnapped and never seen again. The kidnapper was never found and the royal guard soon gave up, having put little to no effort in finding him to begin with. This traumatic event caused Ruben to become cold and bitter. He resented the world that went on existing while his family received no justice. Disgusted at the thought of growing into a man that struggled to serve society, he ran away from home at 16 in order to find his own path.

Ruben doesn’t have a generous bone in his body. He believes in only looking out for himself, with him versus the world. This applies to not only nobles, but his fellow man as well. He shares none of his bounty, and will con anyone he finds gullible or too trustworthy. Deep down, the score is only half the reason for his trickery. A sadistic side of him wants to see the distress on their faces, knowing that they’ll have no choice but to “get over it”, like the world expected him to do with his brother.

Despite his selfishness, Ruben never resorts to killing, or even hurting people. He also avoids pulling children in his schemes, as they’re a stark reminder of what he lost ago.

Ruben doesn’t have a friend in the world, instead surrounding himself with his treasure as a reminder of the all the people he’d bested. Alas, no matter how much he steals, nothing eases the pain his past etched into his heart…

Random Fact: He has a weird quirk where he likes to leave decisions to chance. Not just with gambling, but such as tossing a coin to make a decision, drawing a name from a hat, or randomly choosing a town to visit.

His Role: Some time after her curse is broken, Ella meets Ruben at the night market. She witnesses him refusing a thirsty old man some water when the latter can’t afford it, mocking him the entire time. She confronts him and pays for it to give to the man.

This leads to the two of them having a clash of ideals. Ella, or course, arguing about the importance of mercy and kindness, with Ruben stating that those things only lead to self-sacrifice, something he has no interest in being part of. Ella leaves after a heated debate.

Later, Ella catches Ruben trying to steal from the Magpie. They scuffle as she tries to stop him. Eventually, Ruben accidentally knocks her over a balcony. Ella hangs on to the rim for dear life, knowing the fall will kill her. Instead of running off, Ruben decides to pull her to safety. This gives the Magpie’s guards enough time to capture him.

Magpie quickly decides to have Ruben killed. Seeing now that there’s some good in him, Ella claims him in the name of the Moon Court, saying that by saving his life with her declaration, he’ll owe her a life debt. This indeed does spare him from the Magpie’s wrath, but the cost of his freedom.

Ruben is now stuck serving Ella until Spring, where she will spend the time trying to change his heart and make an honest man of him.

Quotes:

“Ah~! Nothing like the smell of suckers in the morning!”

“Now what about me seems untrustworthy?”

“I’d hurry home, old man. I don’t need your sweat getting into my cold, refreshing water.”

“I fail to see how I lost in this situation. A haughty princess just handed me money.”

“Okay, so YOU care for others, yes? You cared about that old man. You paid for him. Now look: you’re two gold pieces short to buy yourself some water. And you’re saying that’s a good thing?”

“Fuckin’ hell, are you my mother? Go away! I make it a point to not see the same face twice!”

“Yep. You’re a royal, alright. Only a princess who stuffs her face all day can be that hard to lift up.”

“Um….no. No. I’m not staying here. I don’t care what elf rules you live by, or what you put around my neck, I’m leaving. Good day.”

“We call you guys ‘elves’ where i come from.”

“Okay, I’m done being nice. Let me go, you BITCH!”

“……Fuuuuuuuuuuck.”

“I swear to the Gods, if those birds attack me, I’m making them my dinner tonight.”

“Are you sure you want a gorgeous man alone with your wife, Kieran? Because I’m a tramp, I won’t lie.”

“……Why didn’t I let you fall?”

“What? I can’t even THREATEN to rob someone now?”

“If you think we’re going to be friends by the end of this, you’re sadly mistaken.”

*to Kieran* “You know you have the dead eyes of a shark?”

“Okay, write both names on a piece of parchment, hold them behind your back, and don’t tell me which hand has who….don’t ask. Just do.”

“……I know I’ll never see him again. I’ve…made peace with that. I just want to know what became of him. It’s the unknown that really gets to you…”

*anytime he saves Ella* “This doesn’t mean I like you!”

*hearing Ella is pregnant* “Ha! You’re gonna get fat! And congratulations.”

“Jack, your mother deserved what happened to her. Anyone who just abandons their kid like that…..yeah, she got what was coming to her.”

@leafkingofbirds

[mimizepp]

Hello! Can I have a matchup for part 7 please? I am a 5'4 ace/heteromantic gemini girl ambivert.Dark brown hair(peuple tips)/eyes(glasses) a little chubby/muscled and pale skin+permanent smirk or b*itch face.Sassy sarcastic a little naive/innocent,calculative,protective,creative,expressive,,tsundere,manipulative,a devil's advocate,prideful,charismatic,smartass,bookworm,daydreamer,a little insensitive/blunt because I'm more on the logical side so I don't really understand or recognize emotions,vengeful,not very touchy,mischievous,a huge tease,open minded,very curious,gets annoyed easily,impatient so kind of a bad temper,observant but not romantically,sadistic to a point but I stop myself if it's a friend.Indifferent to most things,open minded,morally...unique,I hate injustice and fight for my beliefs,trust and family issues so I never talk about my problems.Rebellious,sneaky, but I'm a chaotic good and I love cats/laughter/pranks/dark humour. With my friends I am either laughing, goofing around or annoyed. Those who don't talk to me see me as a nerd aggressive smart and blunt person (maybe even prideful) and strangers as a polite sweetheart. I have some bad habits like biting my nails/lips bcs I am always nervous, disorganized room/sleep and eating schedule plus I am lazy. I don't understand a lot of references because I'm either too lazy to watch or I don't care/predictable. My style varies a lot (always comfy) but I never wear dresses heels/makeup. I don't see myself being with someone who is too serious or can't have fun, I accept white lies but if it's something serious then I won't so honesty and loyalty and freedom (I don't care if we don't spend a lot of time together everyone needs some space) are very important... books and imagination too I love to have debate

Thank you! 💫

i match you with…

*°:⋆ₓₒ diego! ₓₒ⋆:°*

- diego likes you. a lot. maybe even a little too much, honestly. but how could he not? you’re just his type - a vengeful and somewhat sarcastic tease, always quick to stand for your beliefs. he loves your bite and all the sweetness that comes soon after

- diego loves riffing on your dismissive flirts, his charm always drawing you to become just as playful as he. you two pull plenty of dumb jokes on one another as you grow closer, and sometimes diego’s may turn a tad sadistic if you’re fine with it. he’s also a sucker for reaaaally stupid jokes / puns (refer to his ssssssnake joke)

- if you ever tell an especially mindless pun he’ll be a giggling and blushing mess, as much as it may surprise you

- you two can be quite similar, though the remaining differences allow plenty of exploration into one another. diego becomes more vulnerable around you, allowing your curiosity to reign free. he’ll open up about his past with you without really wanting any sort of response, as he just likes letting these things out sometimes. it’s almost become a form of bonding, as diego never speaks of these things with anyone else

- diego loves poking and prodding you to the point of annoyance, testing the both of your limits out of pure boredom. he can’t help himself, and he knows you’ve grown used to it after so much time with him. when he’s not pushing things too far he’s always down for a friendly debate or discussion about anything that comes to your mind. he loves hearing your beliefs and how you go about defending them

- diego appreciates how straightforward you are and likes to come to you with personal dilemmnas / issues and ask you to help him out from an objective view. he has great trust in you and takes whatever you say with high regard 

- pls let this shawty butter you up on date nights and special occasions. he can be pretty sentimental depending on his mood n he just can’t get over the fact that you, someone so perfect, actually tolerates all his bs. when it gets to this point he feels the need to cling to your side and show you off to anyone that crosses your path

- diego most often reminds you that he loves you with that cheeky glint in his eye. he can struggle with expressing his adoration but you can always tell what he means by the way he looks at you

- don’t worry, he doesn’t bite unless you want him to ;)

* another potential cowboy for you was magenta magenta! *

[repentingrph]

Creating Atypical/Original Characters

In my personal experience, it shocks me how many times I go into an RPG and see a vat-full of sarcastic "too-cool-for-school" type characters. One or two is more than enough to fill that quota, but the last RPG I was in, I'd say about 80% of the group were just that. I get it, though! We all secretly want to embody that vibe. The cool vibe of IDGAF, where you can say anything you want and be praised for it. Let me tell you, though, if those are the only characters around, you're going to wind up with annoyed players because there's always going to be that one person that's going to compete for the top-dog spot of the MOST sarcastic and MOST IDGAF character of all time. It's not cool.

So! I introduce you to alternative ideas or at least the process to your own alternative ideas!

Me? In spite of what I just said, I love those sarcastic bastards with all my heart and I have a few of my own. However, if you really love that brand, give them depth! Do NOT make them be a one-note. With that said, the go-to is adding in a tragic past like someone died. When I say depth, I mean in terms of personality, not just backstory alone. This is where we are going to start with creating our atypical/original character.

PERSONALITY

1. Find your dominant personality trait, and then sprinkle in some undertones.

Let's say you're going for someone who's outgoing. Are they going to be bubbly sunshine or talks just way too much, making inadvertent awkward conversation? Just because you choose one path does not mean there is only one way to travel down it. You can have someone who is outgoing but also terrible with social cues. They could have a good heart but they also make people cringe when they see them coming their way, and I find that beautiful. Mix it up! Sometimes throw in contradictions that shouldn't work, but somehow do. Why do you think anti-heroes are a thing?

2. Set a moral compass.

This is something I always think about when I'm creating my characters. On a scale of Ted Bundy to Mother Theresa, where do they fit? Sometimes it's not even as clear cut as that either. I have one character who is an absolute monster, a total sadist and manipulator, but he has an odd sense of civil justice. Characters, like people, will probably have a gray area somewhere in their moral compass. Tap into that, explore it. It can definitely shape their personality. Why do they think that way? What are their boundaries? How do they justify what they do? Are they a hypocrite? If you're creating a murderer, are they really executing it personally or dictating that someone should be killed? Would they have the moral backbone to do it themselves?

3. The Scales.

Humanity boils down to a few scales, in my opinion. You have intelligence, sexual/romantic prowess, class/manners, and temperament/stablity. For example, I have one character who is very book smart. He is mediocre in common sense. He is asexual with repulsion towards it, but he's an awkward romantic. He is highly well-mannered in a Victorian-esque way. Temperament-wise, he can be irritated but usually cowardly.

Some of these may sound as though they overlap, so think of it like this:

Intelligence is self-explanatory (and if you break it down to three sub-sections of book-smarts, street smarts, and common sense, it helps even more)

Sexual/Romantic Prowess is more or less like the sex-drive or the kind of forwardness they would have. Think of it as a scale from a prude to a professional and experienced escort. Even if your character is asexual, are they still flirty or are they reserved?

Class/Manners is related to how they present themselves. Are they crude or are they refined? You can have someone with a filthy mind actually be incredibly cultured, charming you right into their pants. On the flip-side, you can have someone super reserved with the crudest sense, cursing under their breath with words that'd curl your hair or eating with their unwashed hands. Uhg.

Temperament/Stability is more of an anger test. A good litmus test would be having your character stub their toe. Do they wince but move on after a moment? Does it bother them at all? Or do they fucking flip the goddamn table and yell at it for just existing? Think about how volatile they are or how utterly zen-like they are. Just like I mentioned before, you can have someone that is super crude be really chill. You can also have someone with fantastic class be ready to blow your head off. It's just all in how you play them to show that.

Remember, if you think of more scale-types, go ahead and add them! The more you expand, the more unique they will become! The ones I've listed are just the main ones I immediately go to.

BACKSTORY

I think all of us (and I am particularly guilty of this) tend to favor a dark backstory for their characters, and it usually revolves around some kind of deep, personal loss. There is nothing wrong with that, but it can be repetitive if it's something that frequently pops up in your character portfolio.

1. Try not to kill anyone.

Killing NPCs off is so damn easy. Having a hard time thinking of their family? Kill them off when they're too young to really remember them. Boom. Problem solved, right? Yeah, but then what? Now, I love a good orphan, self-made character. Love them to *bits* (especially since I have one of my own), but let's try something different if you've already done that. Why I say this is not only to deviate from the typical but also to put something away for the future. When you lose your muse, hit up that little bank of family ties. Once you've killed them off, there is no taking that shit back unless you have an elaborate plot about them faking their death. Maybe keep them around instead. Give them a strained relationship. Keep only one in the picture. How about an overbearing relationship, where they just love them way too much and still cry whenever they call them up? Are they an only child? The favorite child? Did they find another mom/dad replacement as years went by?

2. Create a different bad experience.

I can't help it. I'm a sucker for dark backstories, but we're going to keep going with the first suggestion and not kill anyone. Instead, we're going to focus on other solutions. Could be criminal, or personal, or even stupid but with meaning to your character. I don't know if anyone remembers Courage the Cowardly Dog, but there was an episode of a whale that was so hell-bent on revenge, and do you know what he wanted revenge for? For some guy cheating him out of his favorite accordion in a poker game. That shit blew my goddamn mind as a child, and as you can tell, it still blows my goddamn mind today. That's the kind of backstory shit I can get behind and make me want to learn more.

3. Look on the bright side.

So, enough about those bad memories. Maybe your character had a charmed life! Oh, how I hate that nice characters somehow equal boring characters to people, and this would be the same to backstories. Nice backstories don't have to be boring. Your character could have won the fucking lottery. They could have been class president by releasing an unhinged scandal against their opponent without remorse. They could be just lucky, which means that luck can definitely change when you play them. Also, as a bonus, how would they even handle a downfall when they've never experienced it before? What kind of dramatic fucking character arc could they fall into? Sign me the fuck up.

GENERAL ADVICE/FINAL NOTES

1. Every character should be forged from a part of your soul. Forget about the term self-insert because if you don't feel a personal connection to your character, that character has no life. End of story. You're playing an asshole? Don't tell me you've never had a terrible thought in your mind before, just funnel all of that into them. Any aspect of yourself that catches even you off guard is something to tap into and run with.

2. Look back at those that you've already created and see what you're missing. I do this all the time. I usually oscillate my moral compass between the wretched and the innocent just to keep myself in balance. I try to find something I haven't tried before and then build on it. If you have a ton of bubbly characters, try someone emo. If you have a ton of moody shits, go for the flower child.

3. Everyone creates their character from a different building block. Some will start off with an FC. I start with personality usually. On occasion, I will also start with a profession. This is especially true when I see an RPG I love and try to find my little niche to settle into. Go through masterlists like [x] or [x] that can help mold your muse into something that has your own spin on it.

[peachywise]

basement confessions

stanley uris x reader

-- one-shot

-- synopsis: You hated Stanley Uris. Stanley Uris hated you. Why the Losers’ Club thought a sleepover and a game of truth or dare would fix that was beyond you, but anything’s worth a try. (aged up au: 18) 

-- notes: requested by @katherinewhat ; “heyheyhey i would like to see a imagine/fanfic whatever u want to call it, where (y/n) and stan hate each other ever since they were kids. But then the losers club is just sick of them fighting so they have a sleepover and play truth or dare or something; then lock them in bill’s basement and are forced to make out *cough* sorry make up ;) anddd (y/n) is terrified of bill’s basement so stan try’s to calm her down??” okay so I love this fic, i hope you do too!! as always, let me know if you want an add to the tag list. It’s a little on the long side (3k+) so i put a keep reading tab on it. (this also has a splash of reddie thrown in there)

click here to read the unofficially official part two: ailing confessions 

“Truth or dare, Y/N?” Stan asked you, as he tried to hide the small ghost of a smirk that slowly inched its way on to his face.

And at that moment, you knew you were fucked.

“Jesus Christ,” Bev muttered under her breath in reply before you could voice your own irritation. Jesus Christ, indeed. Currently, all the Losers were sat around in a circle in the living room of Bill’s house playing this stupid game Richie had suggested. Truth or dare. Though you fought against it, asking in a sarcastic tone, “what are we, twelve?” you were easily ignored. It wasn’t that you were scared to play the game or do the dares. You just knew one person in particular would try to make you do the most miserable, horrible stuff he could think of. That person was Stanley Uris.

It was the first sleepover that you and Stan had attended together, and you hoped it would be the last. You had known the boy for years, and he’d always been just as high-strung as his coiled, golden locks. You’d never once gotten along with him. It mostly started in fourth grade when he chastised your organizational skills. In an attempt to prove him wrong, you ended up running against him for class president. It was the most intense election to date, and even your teacher was stunned into a quiet submission at some of your well-thought out, yet fierce rebuttals. In the end, Richie won by a landslide, but the animosity had already blossomed between you two. Afterwards he would go out of his way to put you down and correct you at any chance, and in return, you would draw dead birds and leave them in his locker to torment him. Looking back on it now, you agreed that maybe that course of action was a little mean and far too morbid, but you couldn’t feel remorse for it when he hated you just as much.

It was like he wanted to argue with you on everything! Anything you ever suggested the Losers’ Club did, he would be right there telling you it was a stupid, reckless idea and that you should just be ignored. Ben and Mike often tried to mediate your fights, boiling it down to the fact you two where allegedly similar (ha!), but nothing could ever mend the poisonous hostility that dripped between you two.

You had no idea why they thought a sleepover would be the cure.

That’s what this night was about, after all. You weren’t stupid. Well. You were stupid enough that you hadn’t expected this to be the plan when you showed up tonight, but c’est la vie. The only solace you took in your embarrassment of having fell for the trap was the fact Stan fell for it too. Sucker. You’d both have to suffer in each other’s company.

Turning your head in emphasized boredom towards Stan, you rolled your eyes. Don’t let him see the panic that washed through you and made your finger tips numb. You could handle whatever came your way. “Let’s go with truth, bird fucker,” you yawned, meeting his gaze in a look you hoped met his challenge. You swore you saw his eye twitch, most likely in response to the nickname you had given him. He’d never liked it. You weren’t exactly sure why.

“Fine,” he quipped, leaning back slightly as if all too relaxed. You could see the fake contemplation on his face. He already knew what he was going to ask you, he just wanted to drag it on for a little while. What a sadist.

“Do you guys remember in ninth grade when someone was leaving love letters in Bill’s locker?” Ah, fuck. Slowly, everyone in the circle gave a perplexed nod. “I think I remember Y/N telling me they know who did it.” You were going to ring Stan’s scrawny, little neck and feed him to the freaking pigeons.  Wait, scratch that. You would feed him to the fish. He liked pigeons too much to even deserve that. “Care to share?”

As much as you hated to admit it, this was a smart tactic. He knew you were the one who had left the love letters. He wasn’t giving you the opportunity to lie about the truth he had giving you. What a bitch. The day he caught you trying to cram one through the little metal slots was the day you lost about 5 years of your life. You’d always wondered why he never said anything. Now you knew. He had waited for the right opportunity.

Taking in a deep, calming breath, you flopped back so you were laying down on the floor. No way in hell did you want to see their reactions. “It was me,” you gritted out, folding your arms over your chest like a pouty child. “The crush barley lasted three months, okay? It was a moment of weakness,” you explained, before Bill stuttered out a slightly offended, “hey.” Sitting back up, you faced him and gave him an apologetic smile. “Let me rephrase that. Not weakness. You were being especially nice to me during a time when someone,” you muttered, giving a pointed look towards Stan, “was making it his life’s purpose to hate me.” Stan’s face dropped the slightest bit, before he covered it up and put back on his face of indifference. Weird.

“It’s fine,” Bill smiled a little awkwardly, flashing a look towards Stan who had now averted his gaze up towards the ceiling. Richie, however, gave you an accusatory glare. “You told everyone you thought it was me doing that!” He whined, before you cleared your throat and loudly asked, “Hey Stan! Truth or dare?” You had to cover your tracks somehow.

“Dare.” He stated definitively, without so much of a waver in his tone. Giving a little smirk, you simply said, “I dare you to let Eddie spit in your mouth.”

Havoc ensued.

“WHAT?” Eddie shot out, immediately standing up and letting the blanket drop that had previously been draped over his and Richie’s lap. Crossing his arms out in front of him, he shook his head erratically. “No. No way. Do you know how unsanitary that is? I am not spitting in his mouth!” Richie gave a little snicker as he casually added, “I’ll spit in his mouth.” Eddie looked down at him utterly horrified. In reality, it wasn’t even that big of a deal. Eddie had swapped spit with Richie before, even if the two wouldn’t admit it to the rest of you. Those idiots didn’t know how obvious they really were.

Stan shook his head. “Nobody is spitting in my mouth,” he groaned, as if he couldn’t believe he actually had to say that sentence. Big baby. “A dare is a dare, Stan,” Bev conceded, the small tell-tale crinkles at the corner of her eyes appearing as a sign of her amusement.  Ben just murmured a small, “I don’t want to watch.”

Standing up, you snapped your fingers in Richie’s direction before pointing at Stan. “The sooner you do it, the sooner it’ll be over,” you huffed out, planting your hands on your hips. Stan stood up in response and stalked over to you, glaring you down in an attempt to thwart your persistence as he repeated a simple, “no.” Pay back’s a real bitch, Uris.

Preparing to fight Stan until inevitably someone’s spit ended up sliding down his throat, Mike’s voice rung out before you could even get a single word out. “How about as consolation we have to come up with a group dare? We come up with something else, and you have to do whatever it is no matter what?” What a buzz kill. Stanley didn’t even take a second to process what was offered to him before he said, “I’ll do whatever else.”

“Billy? Can you read me a story?” came a small voice from the corridor of the hallway, breaking the pervious tension that had radiated between you and Stan. Bill stood up before walking over to his little brother, Georgie. “Yeah, of c-course,” he smiled down at him, before turning to look back at the rest of you. “Pick something good, okay?” he added brightly, before leading Georgie back down the hallway, arm slung around him.

By the time you looked back over, Mike, Ben, Eddie, Bev, and Richie were already crowded around each other, mumbling ideas about what new dare they were going to give Stan. How come you weren’t allowed to be apart of the deliberation? Way to rip off your turn.

Giving one last glaring side eye to Stan, you plopped yourself on the couch, preparing to enjoy the oncoming show, albeit how boring it was bound to be without the involvement of spit.  

“Okay,” Mike grinned, as the rest of your friends turned back to face you two. “Both of you have to be locked in the basement and makeup—“ Richie butted in saying “make out,” before Beverly clapped her hand over his mouth. Mike gave him a knowing look, before continuing with, “like I was saying, you’ll be locked down there until you guys work out whatever deep seeded issues you have with one other.” Ben added in a quick and chirpy, “even if it takes all night.”

Well, that just wasn’t going to work.

“This is his dare, not mine!” you groaned, “why am I being wrapped up into this? I never agreed.” Eddie shot you a disbelieving look, shooting back with, “but you were fine having me spit in his mouth?” Touché. But you still weren’t taking a single step into that basement. No. You had refused to go down into Bill’s basement for years. Not since the last time. You weren’t going to start now on some silly little dare.

“Deal,” Stan stated simply, as he turned and began walking down the hallway. What the fuck?

Racing to catch up to him, you shot your arm out to grip his forearm. “Hey, no deal! I’m not going into the basement. Not with you, not with anyone,” you grated out, trying the squash the panicked feeling that had begun to onset. You were terrified of being down there. You couldn’t go.

Stan turned to stare at you for a second, his face shifting into something unreadable as he took a tiny step towards you. Getting more desperate by the second, you whispered a small, “please,” quiet enough for only him to hear it. The last thing you wanted to do was beg him for anything, but just the thought of stepping foot down in that cement hell hole was causing you to be irrational.

“It’ll be fun!” Richie’s voice called from behind you, as you felt hands go to your hips and lift you in the air, as you were tossed right on over the trashmouth’s shoulder. Suddenly, you weren’t sure if you hated him more or Stan. “Put me down, you shit head!” you bit out, hitting his back as he effortlessly used his free hand to swing the basement door open before beginning his descent down the steps. Stan followed slowly after him, giving a hesitant look all the way down while you still struggled and yelled out a slew of curse words aimed at no one in particular. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” Stan stated hesitantly, as he seemed to be the only one noticing the frightened look in your eyes. If your rational brain had been functioning at the moment, you would have yelled at him for the pity. Right now you really didn’t care all that much.

As Richie set you down on the ground, you quickly tried following his steps back up the rickety wooden stairs, but you didn’t make it. The door was shut unceremoniously in your face. “This is for the greater good!” his annoying voice called from behind the door, before you heard all your friend’s steps lead back down the hall. Banging on the door frantically, you cried for them to let you out. It was too dark. You couldn’t breath. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t focus, you—

“Are you okay?”

Resting your head on the wooden door, you tried to take calm, reassuring breaths. “Just leave me alone, Stanley,” you murmured, already embarrassed enough at your fear. You don’t think you’d ever been alone with Stan in your life. Figures it be during a time like this.

“Look at me,” Stan stated, a certain edge to his voice. Taking in another sharp breath to calm the shaking of your hands, you turned around on the small step to face him. You immediately regretted that decision. Suddenly a flashback of the incident that made you hate this basement so much flooded though your thoughts and your bones, and you weren’t so sure you could stand anymore. Covering your face with your hands, you bent down a little as if to contain yourself. “I can’t be in here,” you whispered, as two arms wrapped around your shoulders. You flinched, but he didn’t let go.

“Let’s go down the stairs,” he calmly stated, as he slung one arm slightly awkwardly around your tense shoulders as you began the walk down. As soon as your bare feet hit cold pavement, a shaky sigh of relief escaped you. Turned out you felt better on ground level than on the stairs. Duly noted.

Sitting down on the floor as he let go, you brought your knees up to your chest and wrapped your arms around your legs. At this very moment you didn’t give half a shit of what Stan thought. You just needed to calm down and get out of here. If that meant you had to play nice with golden boy, you would do it.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” he questioned a little cautiously, as you breathed out a small, “not really,” bending your head down to rest on your knees.  It was a stupid story. The only one who knew was Bill, and you had sworn him to secrecy right after it happened. Mostly because you didn’t want Stan finding out and making fun of you for it.

It was quiet for a beat, before you finally heard him say, “good, because I don’t want to hear it.” Irritation quickly shot through your veins, replacing the previous numbness brought upon from your little panicked moment. Lifting up your head, you yelled, “you don’t have to be such a jackass!” Then you noticed the small smile plastered on his face. “Do you feel better now?” he asked knowingly, and you grumbled a short, “shut up,” in return before putting your head back down on your knees.

It was quiet again. A little longer this time, and the silence made you feel cold all over. You felt tears start to prickle at the side of your eyes as you remembered laying down here in the cold that one night, all alone and in so much fucking pain that—

“I’m terrified of mascots.”

“What?” you blurted out, your head snapping up as if a puppeteer had lifted the string. “Mascots. You know, the people in the big, often furry suits,” he explained a little more thoroughly.

Well this was new information.

“When I was seven years old, I went to a ball game with my dad,” he continued, much to your surprise. You focused on his smooth voice. “There was this tiger mascot, and for some reason he kept following me around. It was annoying, but I managed to hide. When he found me, my dad thought it was amusing and shoved him towards me as some sort of joke. The mascot fell and knocked me down, and his head just fell off as I was crushed below him. The guy was clearly drunk and man, he smelled so gross,” Stan groaned, giving a bit of a shiver at the memory. “Ever since then, I run the other way as soon as I see them. They terrify me.”

You stared at him for a second, before a small snort escaped you. Stan’s face quickly dropped.

"It’s not funny,” he grumbled, as he began to pace away from you. Standing up a little shakily still, you gave a bit of a breathless laugh. “No, no I’m sorry, it’s not.” You agreed, trying your hardest to keep a straight face. The second his hesitant eyes met yours again, however, you busted into uncontainable laughter.

“If you tell anyone, no one’s going to believe you!” He shot out, as you wiped the small tears from the corner of your eye. Wow. Just the image of Stan running away from some guy in a giant bird costume had you in a fit of giggles once more.

“I was just trying to make you feel better,” he retorted once more, as you took deep breaths to stop the laughter in its tracks. He was right. You were being kind of rude. “I’m sorry, okay? Look. No more laughing,” you pleaded, reaching out to grab his wrist while giving him the best serious look you could. You knew a small smile still lit your face, but you hoped he’d take the effort to not laugh as a white flag.

“Fine,” he mumbled, as he sat down on the floor once more, you sitting directly across from him. You began to feel a little awkward at his confession. He trusted you with that, so what harm could come from you telling him why you were so afraid of the basement? Maybe bringing it up would make you feel a little better.

“Do you remember when I was ten and I broke my leg?” Stan nodded. “Well,” you breathed, as you looked down towards your fiddling hands, “that weekend I had slept over at Bill’s because my parents were out of town. I got up in the middle of the night to get some water, and I,” stopping briefly to calm the small race in your heart, you continued quickly. “I thought I heard a noise in the basement. I assumed it was Bill trying to freak me out, I never did like basements very much, but as soon as I got to the second step, I tripped and fell down the stairs,” you whispered, a phantom pain shooting through your right leg at the memory.  “That’s not so bad in itself, but no one heard me. I was left down here all night until Bill’s dad found me in the morning, crying in pain, and—“

The slightest touch against your cheek jarred you from your thoughts as Stan swiped a small tear from your face with his thumb. His eyes were intense on yours as he softly said, “you’re not alone down here, Y/N,” his hand resting lightly on your cheek, and you were unsure if he knew what he was doing.  

Shock went through you at the tender moment, and before you knew it, you were clearing your throat and leaning away from his touch, uncertain of what it all meant. “Yeah, well, as much as I appreciate the sentiment, it’s not like we enjoy each other’s company all that much.”

That seemingly broke the mood.

“Why do you insist on hating me?” he bit out, his earlier soft stare turning hard and bitter. You scoffed out loud, standing up instinctively to tower over him. “Why do I hate you?” you questioned disbelieving, “why do you hate me?” Stan soon stood up after you, using his own taller stature to one-up you as he loomed over you instead. “God, it’s like you think I’m stupid or something! You’re such a control freak, you know that?” you yelled.

“I’m the control freak?” he reiterated, in a tone much more dubious than yours. There he goes! Trying to one-up you again! “Take a look in the mirror! You fight me on everything, and what does it get us? Useless arguments? You’re the one who always wants to be in control, you’re the one who always tests my patience!” he gritted out, poking you in the chest. Oh, hell no. Taking another step forward so you were as close as you could get to his face, you ground out, “if you touch me one more time Stanley Uris, I swear I will—“

“You’ll do what?” he shot back before you finished, his eyes becoming slightly hooded, your chests nearly meeting as your irritated, heady breaths became almost synchronized.

And then he kissed you.

Actually, he more or less crashed into you, his hands roughly gripping each side of your face as you met him with just as much exhilaration and passion. At first your hands rested on his chest, but one soon slinked up to his neck, as the other roughly gripped his hair. A small moan escaped him as you did, and you returned it with your own.

Moving his hands slowly, and painfully exhilarating down your body, he gripped your sides before you hopped up and easily wrapped your legs around his waist, unable to get enough. The kiss was a little messy, but the need was too great. It was like it had been built up over years, and maybe it had. Now that you had gotten a taste of just how sweet he could be, you couldn’t get enough. You weren’t sure he could get enough either.

Soon enough you were pressed rather urgently against a wall, as Stan finally moved his kiss from your lips, down to your jaw, and to your neck where he hit a particularly sensitive spot. Breathing his name rather heavily in return, you unravelled your hand from his hair to bring his lips back up to your again, but a new voice in the enclosed space had you both stopping like two kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

“I guess you’re n-not so scared of the b-basement anymore,” Bill called with a small snicker in his tone from the top of the steps.

Bending your head down to rest on Stan’s shoulder, your cheeks flared a rather familiar heat that also passed through your whole body. The boy just simply chuckled into your hair and called back, “we’re all made up.”

Now, you weren’t positively sure about that, but what you were sure of?  This wasn’t going to be the last sleepover you had with Stanley Uris if you had anything to do with it.

-- general tags: @multi-parker @stan-the-losers-club-man @this-cute-shit-xo @hummingstan @babylovereddie @ubertrashmouth @derrysdenbrough @socially-awkward-nerd