#why did i tag this stanley i never tag him as stanley | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonieandi · 26 days

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snapshots pt. 8 | stanley pines x f!reader

summary: you and stanley go fishing

warnings (TW): swearing, panic attack/panic-inducing scenarios, slight gore/violence

tags: mutual-pining, fluff, angst, action, affection

notes: idk anything about ice fishing so pls don’t get my ass for this okay, this was v different to write than my usual long drawn out heart gutting character analyses that I love (not that that is NOT here) but all the movement was deffff hard so it took me a minute but hey this is what I wanted imma do it ya know

Also i configured this chapter in like three separate ways in my head and it was so hard to chose? But i think the one i did end up writing is most true to their dynamic so far. To be of note for the v stubble reference im giving here but yall know The Kiss by painter Gustav Klimt? Ya… that…. Thats here (spot it if you can) as always thank you for the kind messages and notes and comments, love yall <3 also comment below if you'd like to be on a tag list I should maybe organize that hehe

word count: 6.5k

| masterlist | ix |

January, 1987

She had found them both nice fold-out chairs at the flea market just that last season, along with fishing poles the nice old man insisted went with the seats also. Talked her ear off about how he used to go ice fishing with his son, before said son went off to college.

Now he wouldn’t be home during the ice fishing season, so he saw no use for his chairs or his poles. But she did.

Stan would tell her flippantly about his youth from time to time, usually if not always said stories incorporated Stanford in one way or another. It seemed that the two barely, if ever, separated during their youth. Something that upset her more, that her friend had never spoken of his brother to her in the six years they had known each other. She didn’t think he would speak of it all as fondly, these memories, considering he never confided in her about Stanley, to begin with.

Stan would speak of the shoreline in New Jersey, of the sharp sand beneath his feet and hidden caves along the coast they both would trek through. Talk of the setting sun, of racing his brother home in the dark down paved streets back to their shared room.

He spoke most fondly of a boat though, one that had taken both twins years to configure.

She figured the fishing poles could be some sort of link, at least in her mind.

That and they spent some of their summers down by the dock at the local lake anyway. Splashing in windy tides off the dock and watching boats go by until sunset was a great way to cool off. That or revisiting the pool, where Stan would insist upon ice cream for the short drive home.

She figured he would wait for the season opener to go fishing. Considering she gave him the poles and chairs in December, a quick wave to Christmas, a holiday he laughed off on the regular. He would routinely celebrate it with her, just for the holiday cookies and cheesy movies he wouldn’t admit he loved. But he was Jewish, after all. At least raised in a Jewish household, he told her flippantly, after opening his gift this last December. Laughing at her blushing face, and flabbergasted stuttering, asking him why he would bother with all this. She sat straight when he said it was for her. Because she wanted to, so he would. Not that he was a religious man, anyway.

He found it amusing this holiday season then, to find her struggling to make some traditional dishes his mother would make each year come December for the holidays. Nothing he necessarily missed, but something he found endearing nonetheless. Her usual attention to detail, and odd need to ensure his comfort.

The fishing poles were a welcomed gift though, and he lit up at them and the differing tackles the nice man at the flea market had also gifted her. Hugged her into his side, while he ranted and raved about being able to fish off the docks come summer.

But he didn’t want to wait.

Something she thought rather glumly in the very early morning that January weekday. The sun not even having made its appearance, she had stumbled out of her bed around 4 a.m., having promised to reluctantly go ice fishing with said enthusiastic man. They stood before the porch door now, while he knelt in front of her, lacing up tall winter boots and pulling over her snow pants. Tucking her in, layer upon layer. Putting to use some winter clothes they both had rangled out of donation bins that very first cold season. The snow pants and boots had only ever really been used when they would trek through the outskirts of the woods, searching for clues to Stanford’s other journals.

She was still half asleep on her feet, falling forward into Stan’s bent shoulder in front of her to groan. For some reason, he was wide awake, and grinning like a fool despite it being 4 a.m. That dumb look on his face reminded her why she even crawled out of her cacoon of blankets. He was beyond happy to be able to go fishing. Something he couldn’t even wait for a warmer season to do.

He seemed a smidge like his younger self when he was closest to water. Some of his favorite memories are those ones with Stanford by his side and sand intertwined in his hair. His skin dark in the sun and his toes were deep in the tide of the sand.

It seemed more distant now, as distant as Ford was to him now. He wanted to ground himself here too, and some of his new favorite memories are of them hanging at the end of the dock. His feet in the cold water of the lake, and her nudging his shoulder. Teasing him, edging him off the docks’ wood and into the cold water with her. He preferred the summer to the snowy winters, but he figured they could make some new memories by the water now also. Even if they were colder ones.

So he more or less begged her to join him. Promising that he would handle the fish after she made a disgusted face at the thought of stripping the fish of their skin and bones for the meal they would make of the catch. She agreed though, happy to tag along if it pleased him.

He stood from his knelt position in front of her, standing to reach behind him to grab his red coat from the coat rack. Turning back to her to fold her arms into the coat also, her eyes still blurry as she smiled at him slightly giddy.

He had a gift for her that last December also. A coat folded into shitty wrapping newspaper he had thought to repurpose. She smiled at the blue coat but quickly became confused when she pulled it out of the wrapping to find it was far too big for her own physique to be for her. He had quickly pulled out another present for her, presenting her with another newspaper-wrapped gift. Which she tore open with haste, and rocked up quickly to her feet to dance around their small living room, his old red coat in her arms.

It was hers now, and she reveled in the shitty coat. His smell still lingered in the seam line, and when she leaned her head far back into the hood she could pick up on his shampoo. It kept her warm, despite also not fitting her physique.

He had woken up earlier than her that morning, putting the appropriate supplies for ice picking into the trunk next to their foldable chairs, the tackles, and the fishing hooks. So they made their way out into the dark, ducking into the car next to each other to make for the lake in the early morning.

She hummed along to the radio as per usual, random songs interspersed in between the local morning forecast. She stopped though now, picking her head up from the back of the seat to look over at Stan.

“We missed the entrance to the dock.”

“Nah there's another one we can go to. Farther down, less people.”

She hummed, smiling over at him. What he actually meant was there would be no lake office to report to. So no need to register them for the lake that day, and no stupid state fee to pay for fishing on the lake. Amused at his shortcuts, she turns back to watch the pine trees pass out the car window.

It was a sharp, nose-burning 10 degrees Fahrenheit that day, according to the radio forecast. Only made worse somehow with the creeping darkness from the horizon line. The sun slinked slowly in the coldness of January.

He made his way out first, the car’s cabin light flashing on as he grinned over at her. Securing his blue coat closed quickly before getting out to stomp a path in the fresh snow around the car. Pulling around the sides to pull open her door, before chugging around to the trunk to unload the supplies he claimed they needed.

She knew how to fish, but had never ventured into ice fishing. Mainly because the cold was beyond unappealing to her. But the thermos Stan had presented to her before making out the door that morning heated her hands enough to dismiss the onslaught of negativity thrumming through her. And partially woke her up on the drive over. Stepping out into the crunchy cold snow to help Stan gather supplies.

He shuffled her chair into her hands, slugging everything else into his own broad arms. He could reasonably carry everything, stomping forward in the snow to make a path for her to follow in.

They had made a spot on the ice, the snowy shoreline a good bit away. Stan claiming the best spots must be farther out. Because the farther out, the bigger the fish. She sat, glancing around the empty ice. When Stan meant fewer people he meant no people. A frozen dock far off near the shoreline also, its wooden structure covered in ice. She watched him now, the fishing poles cradled in her lap, and the thermos warm in her hands. He’s bent in front of her, his mittened hands working an ice auger to break a solid hole through the thick layer of ice.

Grunting, he stands back up, hands on his hips admiring his work.

“Is the ice too thin here?” She observes.

He tilts his head left, turning to her now. “No, doll. Perfectly fine right here. We’ll only be here until a little after sunrise anyway.”

He sits in his own foldable chair that she had set up for him while he was finagling with the ice. Their chairs positioned side by side, a little distance between them and the whole he had just made. He reaches between them, opening up the tackle box to shuffle around drawers, looking for something in its depth.

“Close your eyes, hun.”

She rolls her eyes, closing them, while shuffling the thermos between her thighs to hold out her hands in wait. He places something in her mittened hands, it’s slightly heavy in them now.

“Open ‘em.”

She opens them to see an odd black contraption in her hands. Two knobs, a dark screen, and a long antenna on what she presumes is a battery-powered electronic. Almost too dark to make out what it was, but it hit her and she gasped.

“Ta-Da!”

“A radio!” She sings, clutching it closer to her chest and swinging in her seat to knock her knees with his. Clawing at his shoulder to fold herself into his neck and coat’s furry trim. She wouldn’t question where he got it, just revel that he had thought to, for her.

“I know you weren’t too eager to go fishing with me, doll. But I figured this could make up for some of it.” He chuckled, readjusting his hat on his head after they pulled away. Knee’s still knocking between them.

“I’d do anything with you Stan.” She hums, unthinking, as she looks down at the device in her hands. Tweaking around the knobs and the antenna to turn it on. She misses his flush next to her.

She gets it working quickly, the music faintly staticy in the background of Stan attempting to put lures at the end of their poles.

He gets her’s ready first, leaning forward in his seat to situate the pole in her hands. Pointing out the slack line and the type of lure he put on the end of her pole. She’s too distracted, like she always is when he’s probably explaining something vaguely important.

The music hums between them, perched on the tackle box he had closed. His cheeks flushed from the cold, his hat slumping down the back of his head, hair peeking out around the rim and sticking to his forehead. He leans in closer, his knee and thigh along her own. His own covered hand reaching for hers, folding it around the pole for her to hold.

They enjoy each other's company until the sun peaks up along the horizon, a good hour in. As they pass the coffee-filled thermos back and forth, she hums to the radio. Enjoying stories Stan told about tourists from the end of the last season. Telling her about their ridiculous questions he had to work around last minute.

“Then he asked me if they were extinct!”

“What you tell him?”

“Well he couldn’t have been more than eight years old, and he got all teary-eyed when he asked me.” Stan waves his hand around, drumming up the memory of when a child had asked him if the fake displayed plady-beaver was the last of its kind.

“Annnnddd?” She hums, sipping on the last of their shared beverage.

“And I may or may not have said they were not.” He shrugs. “Was easy to convince the kid’s dad to buy him a plushy.”

She laughs, thinking about the stupid merchandise she’s still not used to, that she sometimes restocked in the front of the house. But of course, Stan didn’t have the heart to really crush the kid’s spirit. Sad kids equaled less money probably, in his mind. That and he had a weird affinity of being about to communicate with them like no other.

There’s a tug on her line suddenly, not the first in the hour they’d been at their spot, but the first real strong one she’s ever felt. Jerking her pole, bending it forward. Both her hands met the pole, yanked straight in her seat suddenly.

“Woah!” He says, sitting forward and reaching for her pole also. His hands encased hers around the pole. “Hold it tight, hun.” Grunting in her ear.

But the pulling got worse, had them both standing from their chairs. His arms around hers, helping her reel back the pole, pulling it back towards his left shoulder. His arms encasing her, pulling her flush with his front.

“I gotcha.” He grunts again, close to her ear.

“Do you?” Gasping at the strength of the pull along the pole.

It seems to drag them closer and closer to the ice hole he had put in the ground not even an hour ago. His feet planted firm, yet scrapping against the ice. Hers fumbling, dipping under the strength of being pulled forward. Her hands tight, beginning to sweat and ache in the casing of her mittens. A heat around the ring of her hat. He’s hot behind her, warmth seeping out from his coat and onto her back. He feels firm, and yet they both continue a slow crawl forward.

Until it tugs. It tugs so hard that she instinctually releases her grip. Her hands were still steady against the pole though, still beneath Stan’s own hands.

The jerk has them both flung forward, his feet no longer steady, flipping against the ice. She’s still between his arms when they fall forward, inching towards the hole. He turns them somehow, taking the brunt of it on his right shoulder.

Her head swims, having met the ground rather suddenly. But she’s between his arms, her hands having let go of the fishing pole. He’d let them slip from the pole, his arms tight around her, trying to take the force of the impact.

“Stan.” She mutters, mushy between them. Her head pounded for a minute, as they continued to slide against the ice. His chin propped on her head, warm around her still.

He doesn’t respond, because he’s given no time to. Another harsh tug on the pole sent him forward quickly towards the hole. He thinks fast though, bending his arms, hooking his feet along her legs, and pulling her out of his grasp.

She slides along the ice and snow, his push along her legs and waist burned. She turned, pushing herself up on her hands. Grasping at the snow to get some balance. She had run into the chairs and tackle box. All their supplies scattered along the ice. The radio was static behind her.

It had all happened so fast, her voice cracking in the cold air. Calling his name but not finding him. One moment he was there, the next gone. The water still.

They had been pulled forward so suddenly, a quick five-second span between the tug and her head meeting the ice. And he was gone as soon as she had lifted herself again, the ice cracking along the sides of the former small hole.

“Stanley!” Scrapping, crawling towards the hole. The surface wet and slick from the cold lake water that had seeped through the cracks along the hole now. Stan’s visage far from view, the top of the water dark.

She stares in what feels like forever but is only quantifiable in the movements of the sun. It’s rising now, around her. Sparkling on the ice and water around her. Something she’d marvel at, have her grasping at Stan’s shoulder. Nudging him to see as she does.

She thinks only briefly before shucking off her hat and gloves, beginning to unlace her boots. She’d follow him, into the dark depths.

A deep continuous thump. Running along the ice. First near her feet, then farther and farther from her. It has her racing towards it, the vibrations along the ice guiding her along. It must be him, must be that something that pulled him into the dark murky water. The rhythmic thudding has her racing back to the supplies. Fumbling for the axe Stan had packed to help pick out the ice in the hole.

Running full force back, the ice cracking beneath her legs. Shoelaces dancing around her feet, her fingers nippy and uncovered around the wooden handle of the axe.

It cracks, sickenly loud and sudden. Water bursts beneath her shoes, seeping up and around her. The ground opens up in front of her, splitting along the horizon line. A flash of blue precariously balanced in the large maw of a blurred creature.

It shakes the ice, splintering and fracturing it below her feet. The weight of the creature resting the front of its body along the ice. Shaking the striking blue figure in its jaw, trying to subdue it.

She stands still in the ankle-deep water, trying to make out the blurry figure in the maw of the anomaly. It strikes her then that it could be nothing else but Stanley, confirmed by the sputtering grunts the figure heaves, coughing up cold water from his lungs.

She stands frozen only until then, stepping forward into the slowly sinking ice bath. Ax swung behind her shoulder, ready to slice along the neck of the beast in hopes it would release her husband.

He clamors in the cage of teeth above. Raised his large hand into a well-practiced fist, blindly throwing said fist to meet the eye of the beast.

The hit startles the beast, cracking open its jaw to release Stan, a sudden sharp screech creeping up its large neck through its throat. Rattling her bones as she leaps forward in the ice and water, bringing the ax into the meat of the beast's neck.

It crawls back further, slinking back into the dark cold waters. She stumbles back through the ice and the water until she feels snow beneath her unlaced boots again, the ax gone from her grasp and embedded in the skin of the anomaly. The beast is there and gone in a flash, scrambling back beneath the water.

Stan has the air knocked out of him, having landed on his back. His head cracked against the ice and water below, the cold creeping in through his clothes. He opens his mouth to groan but finds only his shallow breath and the puff of heated air leaves his mouth. The sun creeping above the horizon now, something he can only gauge by the heat on his face. The rest of him rock solid and shivering under the weight of his wet clothes.

A sudden eclipse above his head, the sun, and shadows shaded by a beautiful face. Her face shadowed by the sun, her hat gone and her hair spilling all around her head like a halo. Her cheeks flush from the cold, from the adrenaline. It could be the cold or the way the light looks around her head, but he swore she must have been an angel.

He’s muttering when she finally reaches him, stumbling through the cracked ice and wet water. Her only thought was getting to him. He was beyond sense when she did make it to him, clutching at his tattered and soaked blue coat. He was soaked, drenched to the bone. His hat gone and his hair icy along his head, his gloves gone also, a boot missing from his left foot. And he’s drenched. It all stuck to his body, freezing quickly in the icy temperature. She had to get him home, get him out of these clothes, and heat him up.

She runs her hands along his coat first, checking for punctures, for blood. He had been dragged several yards under the water in the toothy jaw of said beast. But no punctures and no blood made themselves apparent through his coat. Something she’ll have to access later.

A thump along the ice has her whipping her head around. The vibration rippling along the ice and the shards of the broken lake surface. The beast lingered in the area, waiting for them to be off guard again.

She wastes no time, lifting Stan’s large arm up and above her shoulder. Leveraging his body up to be leaned against her side and her back. All those stories about mothers and daughters and adrenaline ring in her head, a truth to the stories of women and abnormal strength in times of strife. She would ache tomorrow, and be glad of it anyways.

He unconsciously shuffles his feet, and she makes note that he’s somewhat conscious. The ice helps her slip them both along the good hundred yards she has until they reach the shoreline. Their supplies the least of her worries, and the anxious thought of the beast meeting her back out there in the wreckage of it all. She does not turn back to look when abandoning it all.

It’s harder folding his stiff body into the passenger seat. His legs flopped into the car last. She curses, reaching over him to buckle him in and then making for the driver's side. She rarely drove them, it was more of a special occasion between the two of them. She had only ever driven once in the winter and had been deeply scared of the slipping ice and heavy snowfall. But the sky was clear and she’d put the thought of ice away for a long while.

She curses again, reaching over to Stan to feel up the inside of his coat pockets for the keys. He stirs at the movement, shrugging off her touch, shivering in his seat.

“Not Doc’.” He mutters, his head spinning.

“What?”

“You’re not Doc’.” He grunts again, his lips loose. His head hurts like a motherfucker.

“I am!” She hisses, hands pushing his away, reaching for his pockets again, looking for the keys.

“Oh.” He looks back, eyes blurry under the odd pressure along the back of his head. This person sounded like his wife, he’d admit. Shifting his head to lean against the back of the long bench, making out the flush on her face and the halo of hair around her head. He thought this was his angel? He guessed it was the same thing in his mind, anyway.

She’s still ruffling through his soaked half-frozen jacket. “Hi, angel.” He says, smiling down at her frusstrated face. Why was she so frazzled?

He’s grinning like an idiot, and he just acted like he didn’t know who she was. Like she wasn’t her. Calling her angel? He’d only ever done that in her dream. That achingly sick dream she had of them, of them in this very car. Of his weight above her, of his breath along the crook of her neck. Of his kiss.

She shakes it off. Finally finding the keys folded into a very frozen and flat pocket along his chest. Turning back to the wheel, starting the car up, and peeling out of the parkway backward. Leaving the same way they had come in.

She races home, glancing over at Stan stiff in the passenger seat. His eyes hadn’t left her figure but seemed distant. His thoughts far beyond him, and his coat and pants were frozen against him. His hair melts off his head in the car, still wet but no longer frozen to his scalp. Messy wet hair tucked around his big ears.

She parks and throws open doors as quickly as she physically can. Slipping in the snow, tripping over her loose boots. Fingers frigid when she reaches for him to move him out of the passenger side.

She knows the signs of hypothermia. Knows the dangers of prolonged exposure to cold, and dropping body temperature. Doing math in her head, hoping he had been exposed short enough for her to physically raise his temperature before his heart began to slow. Before blood began to sludge its way through his veins.

He looks as blue as his coat, his arm slugged back over her shoulder as she attempts to get him up the stairs. The slurred speech, the confusion, the dulled skin. It made her heart race, taking steps two at a time to drag him to the upstairs restroom. To the bath.

She sets him against the open door, running and slipping along the tile, turning on the bath to its warmest temperature. The water would be scalding against his cold skin, would sting and tingle in contrast to his wet clothes, but it was the only way she thought to raise his temperature.

She rushes back to him, kneeling in front of him, grabbing at his coat and pants to pull the wet clothes from him. He’s smiling again, giggling at her attempt to uncloth him.

“Could have asked hun.” He jokes, but she cries. He’s so out of it, so gone from this reality and it shakes her bones. He’s here and not all at once.

He thinks he sees her clearer here in the yellow bathroom light, hot fog swelling around them from the facet. She has her hands all over him, eager to get him out of wet clothes that stick hard against his body. Didn’t she know? That all she had to do was ask and he would shed any layer to get closer to her? He giggles again, leaning into her hot hands against his cold blue body.

She manages to get everything but his boxers and socks off him, a flush to her face. Not for lacking of trying though, but Stan would laugh and shake her hand away. Muttering under his breath between them when she would reach for the waistband of his usual blue loose boxers. So she luggs his wingspan along her back again, leveraging him up to move him to the scalding water. Heat bubbling up in clouds around the water. Bruises along his chest have begun to form from the pressure and weight of the beast's teeth and jaw. They’d turn purple and swell soon, a good sign she sighed. A swell meant blood was flowing fast still.

He hisses, his head rocking back along the edge of the clawed tub when he finally is able to sit in the water. It’s hot, too hot. It hurts to breathe in the heat, and he attempts to lift his lungs above the water to gain air again. The muggy water hurts his skin and burns him. But her hand meets his chest, pushing him back into the scalding water.

“Stay.” She commands, eyes wavering when she looks at him now. Melted into the porcelain of the tub. He’s still shivering. He doesn’t even register it but his body has been shaking, vibrating, this entire time. Moving his muscles in an attempt to warm him up.

She reaches to turn the hot water back on, cursing, beating her hand along the rim of the tub when the water comes out cold. It’s all gone. She looks down at him again, her hand moving along his chest, trying to generate heat where her hand was. “Stay, Stan. Stay in the fucking water.”

“Yes ma’am.” He mutters, still smiling at her like an idiot. God, she was pretty, god her hand felt nice along his cold bitter skin. She was out the door so quickly. Was it possible to miss someone who was just in the other room?

She’s barreling down the stairs, flipping on every gas burner in her wake on the kitchen stove. Stumbling to the cupboard, pulling out saucepans and the like to put water in. She’d boil it, damnit. Like her grandmother used to do for her when she was preparing her bath.

She doesn’t breathe until every corner of the stove is full. Leaned over the countertop next to the burners. Her hand rubbed along her chest, along her heart. Self-soothing, the purpose of the continuous motion above the erratic beating. She had tunnel vision up until now, suddenly noticing that she hadn’t even flicked on the kitchen light. Hadn’t even closed the front door.

She had been scared. Still was. Shaken beyond something she knew. It pained her to be in the next room, afraid of looking over her shoulder and not finding him there. She’d never lead them through crowds again, never let him stray far from her peripheral. Because then he would be gone, could be gone.

Ice seeps in through her snow pants, and she tugs off her boots too. Socks wet against the kitchen tile. Her hands shake as she pulls her boots loose.

She had almost lost him. Lost him for good. It was a shell shock beyond her, beyond her imagination. For the last five years, it was hard to conjure up adventures and trips without him. The thought of flippantly leaving him behind never crossed her mind. Hadn’t ever left her mind. Not after storming in through the shack's door, not after his confession to her across the dim kitchen table, across their kitchen table.

She sits there now, feeling like it was a lifetime ago, but knowing she could blink and mistake the past for the present. He had reached across to her that night, across the table. Held his palms face up when he asked for help. When he confided in a four-second mistake he had made. She had hesitated then, to reach for him. To reach across and find assurance between them, to fold her hands into his own. She had judged initially. But they had both made mistakes. Both made mirror image mistakes, it felt. She didn't want to hesitate to reach for him ever again. She just feared he would be gone before she could. Feared he would disappear along her shoulder line.

She had thought it was obvious, the unspoken agreement between them. That they both meant something to the other. That her dreams threaded into a deeper reality, and that the jokes they shared weren’t some passing balm to deal with it all. That the late nights in front of the T.V. analyzing movies were for the thrill of each other's company, and that their yearly poker game was a silent promise of convergence. That the shitty driving lessons weren’t so she could drive away from him someday, that chalkboard lessons were so he wouldn’t scoff when she said he was smart with her whole chest. That the yearly diner dates were just that, just dates. Not something flippant, not something as unkind as the upkeep of an image. That he opened doors for her for a reason and tucked her below his chin because he cared enough to. That he reached across tables, palms up, because he never feared her hesitation.

Something unwritten between them she believed, everything shared in everything but words and letters. She was a calculating woman throughout her years and didn’t know how to trace the beginning of the feelings she had amassed all the way to the end of it. She didn’t know how to explain that her heart clenched when he leaned over the seat to buckle her in or explain how her hands shake when he reaches for the chalk from her now in the middle of a lesson. It was inconsequential, improbable, and entirely unexplainable to well… explain the sum of him to her. It felt little in comparison to his constant devotion.

The two front pots begin to boil over, she lifts her head, turning off burners and carrying a stem to a pot in both hands. Taking the stairs two at a time again, uncaring about the burning water running down her arms in her haste to make it back to him.

He’s still the same shade, but he lifts his head to look at her when she enters now. His smile less doppy, more genuine. His hair beginning to dry along his head, no ice to be found in its dark strands. He’s still leaning heavily along the back of the tub, not yet able to hold himself up. Color coming back to his cheeks, to his face. She kneels beside the tub, the floor wet as it seeps in through her pants. She pours in one pot at a time, swiping the water around to acclimate it to the bathwater. His hands move unconsciously, grabbing a strand of her hair to fold behind her ear. To be able to look at her more clearly through the fog of hot water.

She begins to pour the next pot into the tub, but he tugs her forward, folds her body against the rim of the tub. Something in her makes her stand, lifting her feet into the tub. The way he looks at her, so disorientated and shivering still. It moves her forward, has her crawling into the tub completely clothed just to lay her cheek against his chest. To make sure it continues to rise under her. Like when she sleeps, and he lulls her back to sleep by simply being there. She wants that, for him to lull her racing heart now. Make her forget about his disappearing visage and still water. He does that, hums like he always does, folding her head under his scruffy chin. Comforting her despite his weakened figure. Hoping she wouldn’t notice how cold he still was against her.

Something unwritten she believed, something she had never had to say out loud because she had never felt this weird depth before. But he was slipping from her grasp now, heavy against the rim of the tub. And so very quiet it made her sick, made her heart chase up her throat. Made her anxious beyond words, because the thing she meant to say to him would stay unwritten. If he was gone she’d only voice such fantasies in her dreams. The dreams she had of him as hers, those other realities her mind conjured where he wore a golden band and called her his. Where she was his.

“You're mine.” Her voice was unwavering, something unwritten between the syllables of her words. It blooms and bursts from her throat, a growth that had sprouted long ago, stumbles out of her mouth searching for light. Still folded under his chin, along his chest. Her shirt wet from the water, bunched up along her waist where he had put his hands.

He gets that look in his eyes despite her intensity, a joke on the tip of his tongue. Something to soothe her racing heart, to stamp down the distant look in her eyes. How she had looked in the car scared him, the rush of her chest but the focus of her eyes. Like they had been driving in the dark, through a neverending tunnel. But she chases it away before he can open his mouth, her hand meeting and cupping his scruffy jaw, pulling back from her comfort to look at him. Turning his eyes to her intense ones, ones that held something unspoken.

“No.” A shake to her voice, eyes blurry. “You’re mine.”

He nods, his voice stuck in his throat. Running his hands up her back, his warmer hands.

“Y-you aren’t allowed to leave me like that, Stanley. You can’t l-leave me all alone like that.” Flashes of a towering beast are nothing compared to turning over her shoulder. Of searching the horizonline. Like she does for Stanford, eyes drifting to tree lines. She wouldn’t, couldn’t compartmentalize doing such a thing for Stanley. She’d take back hesitancies and reach across tables palm up if it meant he wouldn’t leave her again.

“I promise, angel.” He takes her again, tucking her back to his chest. Her racing heart fluttered against his warming chest. “I won’t leave.”

Her hand fall into that crook in his chest, the other clutching along his back, trying to bring him closer, trying to make the space between them disappear. She sniffling, from the cold and stress, against his chest and he doesn’t think twice about his words. Thinking of reaching for her, of meeting her across bridges and tables and in tunnels to meet her open palms, her warm hands. Unfurling her from his chest to lean down and place his lips near her ear, something unspoken between syllables.

“You’re mine, too.”

His lips traveling to her cheek, hovering against the flush skin before tracing her warmth. Kissing the apple of her cheek as she leans into the front of him. His lips warm against her cheek, like she had dreamed of. He had never been this close in the waking world, something she craved more with each passing day. She never pulled away, sniffling as he brings her forward again. No hesitation to be found in the nod of her head along his scruff, a nudge, and nestle of agreement. Something unspoken, unwritten.

She forgot about the pots and burners.

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls imagine #grunkle stan #stanley pines #stan pines #stanley pines x reader #stan pines x reader

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slvttyplum · 9 months

Text

✮⋆˙ oil change | toji fushiguro

synopsis: this mechanic wants to get paid, but in another way

contents: lowercase spelling, not ethical, car sex, fem nicknames, smut.

getting an oil change was hell; it always ended in you paying extra for something you didn’t need. you couldn’t even speak up because you weren’t sure about all the parts.

that’s why you started going to stanley's; he’s a friend of a friend and works on the dirt road with three other friends.

he never scams you and even gives you little touch-ups for free.

“you’re a pretty girl; let me do this for ya.” he’ll say it every time, and you’ll always oblige. as long as he didn’t touch you, all is well.

it was that time again—the oil change. as much as you appreciated this new place, the drive down was hell.

the road was extra rocky as you pulled into the parking lot. a man outside pouring something on the ground, his head turning, and your eyes meeting.

shit.

you quickly divert your eyes and turn off your car. your eyes slide back up, and you notice his attire.

he works there; oddly, you’ve never seen him.

grabbing everything out of the car and walking inside the small building, the smell of garage and gasoline.

miles, a long-time worker, flashes you a smile while tapping his pen.

“didn’t think i’ll see you so soon. what do you need, princess?” his eyes flicking to the computer, then back at you.

“i’ve been on the road a lot, and i realized it’s time for another oil change.” a sweet smile on your face.

tapping his pen some more, he writes something down, then begins typing on the computer.

“stan’s out today, so i don’t think he can do it.” a sigh releasing between his lips, you’re almost devastated until you remember he gave you a voucher.

“ah, he said i can get it free this time since i helped his daughter with something.”

miles looks at you, then back at the computer, a smirk crossing his lips.

“mm, you’re a sweet girl. i hope you’re not lying.” shooting you a wink, he rips off the piece of paper he was writing on and walks outside.

just the basic information and what not, you begin walking to the side of the room where the chairs are, but a tap on the shoulder stops you.

“oil change for pretty girl?” a deep voice sending chills down your body, for who?

you turn around, looking face-to-face with the man you saw outside; his build is strong, and he has a grumpy look on your face.

awe, how cute.

“sorry?” you say, your hand balling up the paper and the other slipping in your back pocket.

“miles, he said that’s what they call you."

your eyebrow lifts up, and you chuckle to yourself at the name. how corny can men be? but hey, free service is free service.

“oh yeah, here, i’m sorry.” you quickly unball the paper, giving it to him, his big, rough hand sliding over yours.

he slides his thumb over yours as he takes the paper, his eyes squinting and reading it as he looks back at you.

“aight, give me 15.” he says, walking off, his broad shoulders and back pressing through the uniform, he was fine as hell.

you walk over to the seats, flopping down, crossing one leg over the other, and resting your elbow on the small table beside you.

the bell rings from the garage door as the dark-haired man walks in. your eyes flicker to his face, then to his name tags as he walks closer.

“toji…” you mutter out. he’s standing there holding out the paper, a black streak on his face and his hands covered in debris.

“here, i heard this one is free, but i don’t know how i feel about that.” his hand running through his hair as he stares you down.

your mouth is open, and you’re stunned, not really planning on spending money and not really wanting to, but then again, he was the one who did the change, not stanley.

“that’s fair, toji, was it? i can give you a twenty.” you take your purse from around your arm, digging in it, and he shakes his head.

“nah, nah. you can me in another way, mama.” his body coming a little closer, hiding all the light from the window that was in front of you.

your eyebrow lifts up when you see he’s a little too close, shifting up in your seat and clutching your purse.

“like what?” your voice echoed off the walls of the small enclosed space.

a scoff escaping his lips as he puts a hand in his pocket and leans down, his lips near your ear.

you’re so nervous that you’re almost shaking.

“you look too good to pass up; i just wanna have a little fun, yeah?” the silence after his words sends a chill down your spine.

your eyes were staring at him, and a tiny sparkle could be seen setting in your pupil.

a pen could be heard dropping; did you even want that? clearing your throat, you quickly stand up.

your body is directly pressed against his. startled. you try to step back, but his hand is too fast, sliding around your waist.

the silence between you two is suffocating, but yet again, it was arousing. a light scent of his cologne whiffing by.

"okay," you say, your back straightening as he slides his hand down. a smirk can be seen if you look closely.

“after you, princess.” his voice was low and deep. you move his hand off your waist and into your hand as you walk to the parking lot.

you slip your keys out of your purse, unlocking the car door. his body hangs over the door as you slide in, his elbow resting on top of the car.

“car sex, classy.” he chuckles, getting in after you, slamming the car door, and immediately unbuttoning his attire.

the windows were tinted, so it calmed your nerves, but the fine man in front of you made your heart race.

sliding off your shoes, you feel your pants unbuttoning. looking up, you see toji undoing them for you, sending butterflies to your stomach.

“i can do it," you say, pushing his hand off and unzipping your pants.

he laughs, pulling off the t-shirt he had on under, revealing his greek-sculpted body.

with his skin glistening from sweat and his abs sitting up just right, clearing your throat, you finally slip off your pants.

“knew you had something nice under there.” he blurts out, pushing off his jumpsuit, now completely naked with nothing but his briefs.

“i could say the same.” you say, slipping off your shirt, completely forgetting you had on no bra.

his mouth hangs open but quickly returns closed when you cover them, he licks his lips, leaning forward.

“no need to be shy; i’ll take good care of you.” his quiet whisper making you feel tingly, like a waterfall forming in between your thighs.

damn, were you that easy? no, no, no.

his hand comes up, caressing your sides, slowly inching towards your hips, leaning closer towards you.

your face moves on its own, and before you know it, your lips are connecting, your soft lips hitting his instantly and moving in sync.

his head turning to the side as he kisses you deeper, his tongue swiping over your lip and instantly moving in.

a sensation between your legs being made, and you let out a moan into his mouth, your eyes darting down seeing his hand in between your thighs.

quickly shutting your eyes and getting immersed in the kiss again, his large, rough hand gripping your hip.

spreading your thighs out, letting him in. his finger swipes down your slit, then to the side of your panties pushing them to the side.

he disconnects the kiss, sighing, leaning up, and picking up both your legs, causing you to gasp.

“these are getting in the way.” he puts both your legs up, having them lean on his hand as he slides your panties off.

the air instantly hitting your heat as you let your panties fall on the floor, the warm heat hitting your cheeks with embarrassment.

maybe this was a bad idea. you try to lean up, but toji leans down, placing a kiss on your lips, then your jaw, wet kisses all down your body.

he stops at your stomach, looking directly into your eye; your throat is dry with nervousness.

he pushes your thighs back, looking directly at your cunt, sliding a finger down your wet slit, causing you to let out a tiny moan.

“a little taste can’t hurt, right?” before you could even answer, hes leaning down and placing a kiss on your warm pussy.

even his kisses felt good, the butterflies swarming in your stomach. he takes a swipe of your pussy causing you to shiver.

sliding a finger over your slit a couple of times, then sliding it in with no warning, a moan escaping your lips.

“don’t wanna be too loud; that’s if you don’t wanna get caught, princess.” his words sent a pleasurable tingle down to your heat.

your hand arm reaches down, and placing your hand on his head, he looks at you, smirking, before swiping a long, wet stripe over your slit.

he leans in some more as his tongue swipes over your clit, pushing his finger into you some more.

taking another swipe of your slit, he curves his finger up and pushes it further back, his lips pursing and forming an o shape as he sucks on your clit.

“fuck…” you moan out, your hand balling into a fist as you grab his hair.

he keeps sucking your clit for a few seconds before leaning up, his body almost pressing against the roof.

leaning down, he grabs his uniform and digs in the pocket, pulling out a condom. you squint your eyes while reading the wrapper.

you swallow hard, eyeing him down, his black hair hanging low and his dark eyes looking down at the wrapper as he pulls it to his mouth and bites off the top.

he quickly slides his briefs down, his hard length plopping on his stomach, the tip passing his stomach.

toji laughs when he notices your shaken expression, carefully lining himself with you and slipping on the condom.

“no need to look like that; i told you i’ll take care of you, yeah?” your eyes flicker at him as he leans down and slowly pushes himself into you.

“wait…” you try to finish your sentence, but he’s already pushing himself into you. he leans down, placing a kiss on your lips.

you wrap your arms around him, and he puts one hand on your waist, the other balancing himself on the side of you.

you can feel him getting deeper inside of you, his warm lips taking you in whole.

he slowly disconnects from the kiss, placing a kiss on your jaw and then your chest, sliding his tongue over the same spot, then sucking.

a soft moan escaping your lips as the tingling sensation from the sucking and him getting fuller inside you.

his eyes never once left your face, making you nervous. no hesitation, he slides out of you and thrusts into you with full force.

“FUCK!” you scream out, your arms sliding off his neck and your hands gripping his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.

that doesn’t bother him; he continues sucking your chest, taking all of you in and pushing into you deeper.

he slides his tongue over to a new spot on your chest, sucking there, another moan slipping out of your pretty mouth.

when he slides out of you again and pushes back into you, your eyes bulge out, feeling a sharp sensation of pleasure deep inside you.

“go harder, toji.” you whimper out, he doesn’t hesitate, and he goes even harder, pushing into you deeper.

your head pushing against the car door, he grips the seat as your nails dig into his skin.

he leans up, a spitstring from your chest and his lower lip connecting, his eyes sliding down to your lips.

he leans down, pushing his lips into yours hard as he pushes into you deeper; this time you could feel it even better.

the pleasure heightened, your eyes sliding back, nothing but darkness and blank white spots scattering around.

you couldn’t see anything, but you could feel how close he was—your lips connecting, his wet lips combing with your soft ones.

“you feel so fucking good," he grunts out, pushing deeper inside you. the car slightly shaking, causing your head to push into the door.

his pace gets faster, your walls clenching around him, taking in everything he’s giving you, and your body feeling light.

his body slamming into yours and his flesh combining with yours was everything; your body felt like it was on fire, getting drenched out with water.

pushing into you again, your walls clench around him tight, your body jolting, and a knot deep in your stomach falling.

a loud moan ripples into toji’s mouth as he pushes deeper inside you, giving your sweet spot a kiss.

“tell me… tell me you want him.” he grunts out, trying to slide out your tight, wet pussy. the grip he had on your hip tightened, his fingernails digging into you.

a soft moan escaping, you squint your eyes and open them, his still on you. he places a kiss on your jaw and leans into your ear.

“i want you… so tell me you want me.” he says, his voice still deep. he slides out of you, then back into you, a cough erupting from your throat.

he leans back to your face, pressing a sloppy, wet kiss on your lips. your eyes are low and dark, and a tiny tear drop in the corner of your eye.

all you can do is nod. you felt too good; you couldn’t ruin the moment with words. he was close; you could feel the veins on his dick pulsing against your slick walls.

all he could do was laugh, but he couldn't. the pleasure bubbling inside of him couldn't, and a final thrust sends the both of you over the edge.

your toes curl, and your fingernails dig into his skin, along with his whole dig into your hip. he places a final kiss on your jaw before pushing his chest against yours.

his grip on you loosening, your body shutting down, your hands falling to the side, and your eyes closing.

the silence was sharp but comfortable. you slowly opened your eyes, and his head was laid against your shoulder.

his hair was disheveled and his breathing heavy; you could see his eyes closed and no discomfort in his body language.

he looked cute. before you could get any more thoughts out, his eyelids flickered open, and your eyes diverted elsewhere.

laughing, he slowly leans off of you, pushing his hair out of his face and picking up your panties and handing them to you.

the both of you get dressed up in comfortable silence, stealing glances at each other.

“when you come back, i’ll give you services for free.” he says, buttoning back up his uniform, his eyes locked on you.

your eyes lift up in surprise as you flatten down your hair, a smile sneaking on your face.

“no need. thank you for the oil change." you say, putting your purse in the front seat.

you’re about to open the car door before he grabs your arm.

“let’s grab a bite, dinner, whatever; let me take you out.” desperation coating his tone. you smiled and let out a chuckle.

“sure, toji, text me; my number should be in the system.”

with that, he went back to work, and you went back home with a stupid grin on your face. whatever happens, happens.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #x reader #toji x y/n #toji x you #toji smut #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji zenin #toji fushiguro #toji x reader

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fatfuckingcatstuff · 6 months

Text

FUCK ME DEAD

SniperTF2 x TeenMerc! Reader

((Year is set in the 2020s))

Tags: Brainrot slang, fluff, platonic relationship, reader consumes tiktok media brainrot and tries to infect sniper

"Fuck Me Dead" is an Australian slang for ffs so please don't misinterpret it as an NSFW fic.

NOT PROOFREAD

Ever since you got the job working as a mercenary for 2 old fucks fighting for a piece of land it's been pretty fun. When you were first offered a position it was equicoval. Why the fuck were they offering a minor a job in a battle-like field? Was this even a legal operation??? Nonetheless, you accepted the offer.

After a good few months of working with your team, you've managed to form a bond with most of them. More specifically, Sniper. The Australian raised New Zealander had become your best friend. Or at least to you. Despite being a introverted fuck when it came to people in general you had managed to get on his good side.

You've hung out with him, watched videos on the Internet together. Though he could never understand "what you kids mean these days", he liked spending time with you.

"Sniper." you called out from his door frame.

"Whaddya want you ankle biter." He replied, visibly cleaning his gun after the day's match.

"Do you have skibidi rizz."

He's stunned by your words and turns to look at you concerningly.

"Mate what? Skibidi rizz..?"

"You have a negative canthal tilt and poor features have you tried looksmsxxing or mewing?"

“What the bloody hell is a looksmaxxing???"

"You look like a true autumn lowkey. Wanna be in my OOTD for my GRWM where I show my new Stanley cup I just got?"

".. Wha-"

"Level 5 gyatt rizz LeBron James you are my sunshine my only sunshine tiktok rizz party she ride the dick like a carnival digital circus pomni rose toy edging mewing streak gooner cave is it acoustic? Tiktok shop Ohio sigma tshirt am I deer pretty or bunny pretty. "

"Sheila wai–"

"are you an alpha or a beta male. And swear it on skibidi."

At this point you would have already killed the poor soul because what the fuck were any of the words you just spat out at him. Did you cast a spell on him?? You.. you witch???

"Mate did you hit your head." He stares at you horrified and concerned for your mental state.

".... No."

"I think you should go see medic."

#tf2 headcanons #tf2 sniper #tf2 sniper x reader #sniper x reader #team fortress 2 #team fortress 2 fanfiction #tf2 medic #tiktok #the brainrot is real #tiktok brainrot #tf2 x reader #tf2

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cheemscakecat · 4 months

Text

Possessed Ford should be referred to as Bord whenever people aren’t shipping the abuser with the abused.

Because the thing is, if I see a post tagged “BillFord/Billford” my assumption is that the blog ships Bill with an unwilling Ford.

This is not cute. This is not romantic. And this is not “hot”.

It’s abuse. It’s tragic. It’s traumatic. Ford talks to Bill with an harsh tone because he knows Bill wants to hurt him and kill any random innocent people around. Ford is afraid of Bill, but still willing to get talk back to his face. And he gets more abuse for it during Weirdmaggedon.

That’s not “oh, he secretly likes Bill back” it’s “ I’m trapped with the demon that ruined my life and wants to kill everyone in my dimension. I have to stand my ground.” I don’t understand why people think this ship is okay, genuinely.

Did you know there’s a fanfic where Ford re-summons Bill using demonic magic, for the sole purpose of torturing him back? Something Ford would never do because A. His family got put in danger, B. He was trying to kill Bill canonically, and C. It would spit in the face of Stanley’s sacrifice and memory loss.

But you wanna know why the fic was written? BillFord. Bill was into being abused back, and Ford eventually reciprocated. I don’t think I need to explain why that’s completely vile.

Ford deserves to move on from his abuser after his death, not be character assassinated for the sake of a gross fanfic.

In any case, BillFord in the tags is one of my personal red flags, so I block blogs if I see it. Because even if there’s a chance that the author meant Bord/possessed Ford, I don’t want to run the risk of it being this disgusting “ship”.

The same goes for BillDip, but the difference is that Bipper is the name for possessed Dipper and is widely used to show the art is not shipping. So for the sake of anyone who genuinely doesn’t ship Bill and Ford, I think Bord should be used the same way.

So yeah. Sorry if I blocked a non-shipping post tagged BillFord, but that’s a practice I’m going to stick to. Because I don’t support toxic ships, especially if it’s pairing a victim and their abuser.

#Gravity falls #shipping discourse #Billcipher #ford pines #fandom criticism #This blog does not support toxic shipping

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1moreoffkeyanthem · 2 months

Note

How did Kyle and Stan get together in the OJV universe.

I didn't find it on Ao3. Or am I just blind?

It’s not in the ao3 lineup, though their first kiss is the focus of day 4 of my Style Week fic if you want that, bc I made the conscious decision to start the OJV in their sophomore year of high school even though they started dating as freshmen, but I’ve gotten into the beginning of their relationship a few times under the OrangeJuiceVerse tag on here! I’ll summarize in this ask tho bc it’s probably a lot to sort through.

So the summer before and through about October of the m5’s first year of high school, that’s when Kyle’s ed developed and wound up getting really fucking bad. Stan finding out when Ky passed out from low blood pressure and sugar at basketball practice and telling Sharon who told Sheila was the beginning of his first recovery arc, getting into an outpatient program and set up with a therapist and dietitian, having to do online school for a while so he could focus on healing, all that. And Stan, unable to stand being away from his best friend (who he “secretly” had a crush on) for very long, was over at Kyle’s house every single day, bringing him flowers, being there for meal support, doing his research on what Kyle was going through, making sure he felt supported in a way that wasn’t his mother’s overbearingness.

A big factor to how Kyle got so unwell with his eating disorder is because he’s also a type 1 diabetic, and got super reckless about not taking his insulin because he wasn’t eating, never checking his levels and just flying from the seat of his pants ignoring his already chronically ill body. Here’s why this is relevant.

So the decision is made by Kyle’s doctors and parents that he’s getting a Dexcom, about a month into recovery, so he can better deal with things and it isn’t as easy for him to skip his medication. The day he’s set to go get it, Stan’s over ofc, and Stanley Down Bad Marsh just blurts it out that he’s so happy he’s doing better and that he loves him. Not just as a super best friend, but “like, romantically and shit”. And of course Stan’s worried that 1) maybe Kyle won’t reciprocate but also 2) Kyle might not be in the place mentally for a relationship, but Kyle, who has been ALSO madly in love for years is STOKED!!! Cue mutual confessing, Sheila interrupting to take Ky to his doctors appointment, and style texting all “does this mean you’re my boyfriend now?” While Kyle’s in the waiting room and Stan is still in his room until Kyle gets back lmfao

As much as anorexia is a bitch and a half, Kyle’s recovery WAS the catalyst for OJV style getting together. Stan was fucking terrified when he realized how bad off Kyle actually was, how good he was at hiding it, and that made him really face how much he COULD NOT LOSE HIM. And he had to tell him, and they’ve been together ever since

#asks #PCE answers things #tw ed #south park #style #I def recommend reading the OJV style first kiss if you wanna it’s sappy as fuck and gets into this more #them #OrangeJuiceVerse #my shit #headcanons #seriously huge ana trigger warning I’m not great abt tags but fr #I do love that OJV canon style got together because of Kyle’s eating disorder tho #something beautiful out of something horrible #hits even harder at this juncture in my life #OJV style obliterates me

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lilydoesdrawsometimes · 1 year

Note

Hello!! I hope you're having a good day!

If I may, I want to present O'Neil in response to your recent post!

He's mastered the art of staying stoic and indifferent in front of other people and is a big fan of dramatic entrances (and is VERY flamboyant) but my, my, are they a gentleman when they want to be.

They start to tease and joke with a person if they get close enough, but never at the same level with the closeness he has with Stanley.

Ah and he's obsessed with the inside pattern of his coat. They never wear it properly because of that.

Despite his calm amd cool demeanor, the second people don't pay attention to him it will send him into a fit. Nagging, bargaining for attention, and then silent treatment when all is at loss.

Hopefully these are enough to give you an idea for a pose ^^; I'm a little shy about this, but I'm excited to see my old man in your artstyle! Please tag me when you post it, I'd love to see! Have a good one, take care <3

I DID IT!!! I FINALLY DID #4 Lucky Narry #4 is @questionablealibi's - O'Neil Bro you have no idea how many poses I drew this man in before settling on this (with help from others to choose because wow) I hope I made him sufficiently dramatic but not dramatic and also kind of angry because no one is paying attention to him (he wasn't SUPPOSED to be angry, more indifferent, but I think it fits, why else would he strategically use his coat jacket to create a gust of wind to blow leaves around him in a dramatic manner)

#tsp #the stanley parable #tsp narrator #narrator tsp #stanley parable ultra deluxe #Drawing other peoples narrators #this one is a drama king isnt he #he's fabulous tho #i enjoy him #LilyDoesDrawArt

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glxwstxcc · 2 months

Text

Holes headcanons :D

Stanley (caveman):

probably addicted to minecraft. (He forces hector to play it with him, but he doesn’t mind)

stanley is the type of guy to prance around and skip when he’s in a good mood 💀

Has anxiety and/or adhd

his love language is physical touch. (He hugs hector all the time 🥺)

he’s probably afraid to close his eyes in the shower. (It’s okay, bro, me too.)

he ate play dough as a kid.

painfully awkward in social situations. (Me too bro, me too)

since he’s kinda tall, he doesn’t know his own side sometimes and bumps into things often.

He’s such a baby when he’s sick. (His mom always takes care of him and she babies him as well, so she’s partially to blame.)

played violin in elementary school but switched to trumpet in middle school.

he loves to dress up for halloween and go trick or treating. He does not give a F*CK IF HES TOO OLD, HES GETTING THAT FREE CANDY.

his favorite color is probably blue. (Super basic, but it’s valid)

unashamed weezer fan.

probably watches adventure time or regular show or some show like that.

cat person.

he loves dinosaurs.

oh and he’s a smashing pumpkins fan.

his favorite subject is chemistry or science.

he probably tried to smoke a cigarette to be cool but he ended up almost dying.

Hector (zero):

bro is probably a Roblox kid.

his love language is quality time.

he gets a little uncomfortable when Stanley hugs him sometimes bc he’s not really used to that sort of affection, but he starts to like it more over time.

he loves watching SpongeBob SquarePants and he makes Stanley watch it with him.

probably and arctic monkeys fan.

Also a Radiohead fan.

fantasizes about beating the sh*t out of people. (DUDE DID YOU SEE WHEN THAT FIGHT ALMOST BROKE OUT AND HE IMMEDIATELY GRABBED A POOL BALL TO SMASH SOMEONES HEAD?.?????)

Gorrilaz fan.

he’s a big Garfield fan as well.

oh and hes also a red hot chili peppers fan.

dog person.

he probably plays guitar.

always wins at card games.

When he was a little kid he wanted to be a magician or a zookeeper when he grew up.

absolutely goated at laser tag.

Ricky (zigzag):

he’s just a silly little guy 🥺

Lowkey the mom friend.

nirvana listener.

I feel like he hates spinach idk why.

yapper.

he has a really stupid sense of humor. (Like if you said the word “ball” or “nut” he would crack tf up)

South Park watcher.

plays cod regularly.

closet Lana del rey fan.

bro can’t cook for shit.

he always bothers the rest of d-tent with his random thoughts in the middle of the night. (Zigzag: “if all my future children are in my balls rn, doesn’t that technically make me pregnant??” Squid: “I swear, if you don’t shut the f*CK UP RIGHT NO-“

raging feminist energy.

his favorite animal is a giraffe 😍

he always uses the shittiest pick up lines on girls he likes (they never work 😢)

Alan (squid):

TERRIBLE at bowling. (Like when he goes the throw the bowling ball he slips on the glossy floor and almost f*cking dies)

brushes his teeth way to hard.

he can’t handle caffeine 😔

He’s a HORRIBLE speller.

If anyone falls asleep around him, their face is 100% going to get vandalized. (Never pass out when there’s markers about, kids.)

Green Day fan.

watches regular show.

bro probably uses three in one shampoo, conditioner, and body wash 💀

he has a pet bunny that he loves and cherishes with all of his heart.

Theodore (armpit):

idk why but I feel like he loves kids and babies and he’s really good w them.

surprisingly great at public speaking.

he and x ray always do karaoke together.

system of a down fan.

when he was little he got hit by the school bus 😐 (he was okay tho).

he probably has a diary that he writes in with glittery gel pen. (he also begins each entry with “dear diary ✨🧚‍♀️🌸,”)

Rex (X-ray):

lowkey a theater kid.

proud solitaire player.

he still enjoys coloring and he is NOT ashamed 😡.

regularly plays fnaf.

queen fan????? 👀

he is ready for Christmas IMMEDIATELY after thanksgiving.

train enthusiast.

he has hello kitty and Sanrio merchandise but would never EVER admit it to anyone.

he owns all of the diary of a wimpy kid books.

Jose (magnet):

bro’s favorite subject is probably history 🤣🫵 (valid).

if one of the d-tent boys is in the phone with literally anyone he will moan as loud as he can.

strong believer in the five second rule.

rammstein fan.

sings HORRIBLY in the shower.

he likes to bully small children on roblox. (Valid)

When he was a little kid he walked through wet cement and his parents had to chisel the concrete off of his feet.

he also sleepwalks often.

Brian (twitch):

bro is such a little f*cking freak like dude wtf is wrong w you (and we love that for him.)

yeah that’s kinda all I have for this kid. He only had like a minute and a half of screen time so I didn’t have much to work with.

anyway yeah sorry they gradually got smaller and smaller but yeah wtv I hope you enjoyed :D

#holes 2003 #stanley yelnats #holes movie #2000s movies #i love this movie #hector zeroni

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equallyshaw · 1 year

Text

welcome home w auston matthews feat. the biebers.

ABSOLUTELY no hate tolerated. Imagine will be posted soon 😌

—

@bowenboots: summer 23.

Tags: austonmatthews34, haileybaldwin and justinbieber

196 likes, 34 comments.

•

@haileybieber: hi pretty gal 🥹

↳ @bowenboots: luv u my soul sista

↳ @haileybieber: I though j was so this makes me so happy 🤍

↳ @austonmatthews: the worst inside joke I wish I didn’t know lol

↳ @bowenboots: it ‘‘twas funny

@austonmatthews: u a surfer girl??

↳ @bowenboots: don’t ya know it babes

@austonmatthews: also I don’t get your insta user

↳ @stephanielachance: it’s for us to know and for you to not 😌

↳ @mitchmarner: rUdE

↳ @justinbieber: eheheh I know it !!!

↳ @bowenboots: your a child lol

@stephanielachance: cutie pie

↳ @bowenboots: 🥰

@tessavirtue: okay but that 1st pic…👀

↳ @bowenboots: alrighty i got THE Tessa virtue’s, 1/2 of canadas sweethearts approval…I’ve officially won MY Stanley cup

↳@morganrielly: canadas sweetheart eh?

↳ @bowenboots: unfortunately you are 1/2 of it 😑

@emamatthews: loved every moment with you this summer, can’t wait to see you soon😘

↳ @bowenboots: love you la quiero much senora (love you so much, senora)

@alexmatthews: love birds!! Love you :)

↳ @bowenboots: love you al!

@beyanamatthews: so glad you came home 🥹

↳ @bowenboots: me too 🫶🏻

@bowenbyram: only commenting cuz we have the same name

↳ @bowenboots: lol hi bowen, how’s the puppy?

↳ @bowenbyram: he’s doing great!

↳ @jtcompher: y'all should meet up already lol

↳ @bowenboots: u inviting us out jt??

↳ @austonmatthews34: 👀

↳ @jtcompher: get the band back together?

–

@austonmatthews34: summer 23 was a good one.

Tag: Bowenboots

67.8k likes, 230 comments + comments limited

•

@bowenboots: hi

@bowenboots: who’s that puppy?

↳ @mitchmarner: proffesional troller I see

↳ @bowenboots: always

@justinbieber: I guess she’s ok

↳ @haileybieber: she’s better than ok hun 😇

↳ @bowenboots: next time i see you im shaving ur head

↳ @justinbieber: you wouldn’t dare

↳ @austonmatthews34: she would 😭

↳ @bowenboots: never ever play drunk poker w me

↳ @mitchmarner: noted 🫡

@morganrielly: the American and the Canadian…who’d a thought?

↳ @tessavirtue: ME

↳ @bowenboots: queen behavior

@breyanamatthews: rude for leaving me out

↳ @justinbieber: v rude

@alexmatthews: prettiest girl I’ve ever seen @bowenboots

↳ @haileybieber: couldn’t agree more 🫶🏻

↳ @bowenboots: love you two !

@williamnylander: stud muffin

↳ @bowenboots: hot toddy

@joethornton: so happy for you two!

↳ @bowenboots: thankyou Joe! Love you guys 🤍

@Michaelbunting: ohhhh now I know why you never came out to cali :(

↳ @bowenboots: I’m sad we didn’t get to go, brb imma kill him

↳ @mitchmarner: we’re gonna need him tomorrow night tho …

↳ @stephlachance: she’s a women on a mission babe

—

Again no hate tolerated. Hope you enjoyed nevertheless! Pls like and reblog if you did :)

Random tags:

@austonmatthews-34 @leafsbabe @leafs-lover @fallinallincurls @jayda12 @nylwnder @starshine-hockey-girl @hockeyboysarehot @slafgoalskybaby

#Auston matthews #Auston matthews x oc #nhl #hockey #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #nhl bkurb #hockey blurb #Justin Bieber #Mitch marner #Tessa virture #morgan reilly #michael bunting #toronto maples leafs #maple leafs

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rubydracogirl · 4 months

Text

Siren's Treasure

Alright, so, I've got about three prompts of my Mermay list finished. I'll link the other parts as I upload them, but I'm starting with this first one.

As promised, this is a Gravity Falls fic, Sea Grunks style.

Siren!OcXFord and Stan Pines (I'm greedy, leave me alone.)

Rated M just in case

Part two is here

Chapter 1

Bottle

It’s well known that the sound of the sea can be calming. Some have even said it’s healing. One thing Ford was sure of was that he’d always found comfort in large bodies of water and so did Stanley.

Sure, the sea came with its own perils but after traversing the multiverse and surviving Weirdmageddon, handling the dangers of sailing around the world seemed small in comparison.

Still, the strange shape he’d been catching glimpses of in the water bothered him. Whatever it was had been tailing them for several weeks. He’d mentioned it to Stan who dismissed it with a shrug.

“I dunno how to tell you this, Poindexter, but it’s the ocean. There’s fish in the ocean.”

Ford wasn’t so sure, but he put it at the back of his mind. It couldn’t be more dangerous than the kraken they’d fought off a few months back-

“Hey, Sixer, any idea on when we’ll find some actual treasure?” Stanley griped as he popped open a bottle, casting his eyes over to his fishing line, which had been sitting without a bite for over an hour.

Ford grunted in reply.

“If you hadn’t acted so recklessly in Ireland, we could have had some real leprechaun gold!”

“You and I both know they were never gonna just give us their treasure!”

Ford rolled his eyes as Stan went on, and he turned his gaze back to the waters. His brow furrowed as he noticed movement. Was it their tag-along?

It was fairly big, whatever it was. A seal maybe? That would explain why Stan hadn’t hooked any fish-

“-And besides, treasure is just one half of what we’ve been missing! We still haven’t seen any babes!” Stan drank the last of his soda and made to throw the bottle overboard.

“You shouldn’t do that.” Ford commented, almost absently as he eyed the water.

“What, and not pay tribute to Glass Shards?” Stan shot back as he hucked the bottle overboard. “I know you’re still a nerd when it comes to women, but c’mon-”

“That’s not true! Look, we could try hitting up some coastal towns on our way back south.” Ford tried placating his twin.

Stan raised a brow.

“Do I look like I’m getting any younger-”

A loud clatter interrupted him. The bottle Stan had thrown overboard bounded and rolled along the deck, coming to rest at his feet.

“...What the hell?” Stan bent and picked up the partially empty bottle, which now held some sea water.

The twins glanced at each other before looking at the water. But there was nothing there.

Stan chucked the bottle again, more aggressively this time.

It landed with a splash and they watched tensely as it sank out of sight. Nothing happened, and they both relaxed after a few minutes. Ford flinched as Stan broke the silence loudly.

“As I was saying- OW!”

The bottle was thrown right back, hitting him square between his shoulder blades this time.

“Son of a bitch! Ford, quit playing around!” Stan swore as he whipped back around, temper flaring with his confusion.

“It’s not me!” Ford was craning his neck, and he pointed excitedly.

“Look! There!”

Stan turned, squinting at the water.

She was so easy to miss. Her hair was dark and gray-green like the waves around her, and the strange, rippling patterns on her skin blended with the rays of the sun bouncing off the water. The face that peered at them from the water could have easily been mistaken for a human if not for the fins that poked from her hair and the gills along her neck.

They caught this in a glimpse as she ducked back down out of sight.

“Mermaid?” Stan choked in a hopeful tone.

“Close, but I don’t believe so.” Ford replied, running to the other side, looking for another sign of her. He could see her shape, but she wouldn’t breach the surface again.

“Give me that-” He snatched the bottle from Stan and threw it overboard, waiting.

He saw the bottle bob and half-sink before it was grabbed by a webbed hand. She rose back up and tossed the bottle back at him. Ford caught it with some ease, adjusting his glasses with his other hand as he studied her.

She rose up a little higher from the waves, meeting his gaze with equal curiosity and he noted her serrated teeth, the sharp ridges on her brow bones, and most importantly, the dorsal fin on her back-

“Greetings!” He called out to her, pulling out his notepad and flipping to a blank page. “What’s your name-”

She ducked down out of sight and Ford sighed in frustration.

“Heh, still not too lucky with the ladies, I see.” Stanley guffawed, leaning over the railing as he searched for another sighting of her.

“For your information, I dated a siren back in Gravity Falls!”

“Oh yeah? Did she know that’s what you were doing?”

“What do you mean, of course she- Stan, that’s deplorable!”

“Hey, hey, it’s not my fault you’re prone to creepy behavior-”

“I AM NOT- That’s not important right now! You realize what this means right?” Ford groaned as he gestured to the water. “The thing I’ve been seeing has to be that siren! Which means she’s been following us for the past couple of weeks!”

“I knew I had a magnetic personality, but I didn’t realize it was so strong!” Stan chuckled. Ford gave him a sour expression.

“I sincerely doubt you’re the reason she’s been hanging around.”

“Hey, don’t be jealous!”

“The only thing you attract is trouble!”

“Like you’re any different, Mr. Let-Me-Poke-This-Anomaly-With-A-Stick-And-See-What-Happens!”

“That was one time!”

“What do you-No it wasn’t!”

The two continued to bicker, and their voices carried across the water. Neither of them noticed the Siren poke her head back above the water as she watched and listened.

She smiled and her dagger-like teeth glinted in the sunlight before she ducked back down beneath the surface.

#gravity falls #my writing #Mermay #fanfic #OcXCanon #Siren!OcXFord Pines #Siren!OcXStanley Pines #Sea Grunks #Prompt 1: Bottle #this first part isn't spicy but it probably will get spicy in later parts

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beartitled · 5 months

Note

Hello there!! I was looking through some of the discord shenanigans posts and I was just wondering if you’re accepting new members?

Hi! Well first of all, glad you enjoyed the comics! It means a lot to know that you enjoyed those silly shenanigans ❤️

Sadly I’ve already left the server recently, so can’t really help much 🤷

For ppl curious my rambling, as always, will be under read more👇

As for you question:

the server’s called “TSP creators club”

yes, I believe they still accept new members, you can contact @/kelpiekidd or @/heckinrissa I think (not tagging them, to not disturb them)

They’re mods there, should help with it 🤷

This might sound weird to some ppl bc I was heavily associated with TSPcc

To be frank I wouldn’t be where I am right now, if not TSPcc: I would’ve never stuck with The Stanley Parable for as long as I did, never could’ve met so many wonderful creative people (many of whom are my friends right now)

+the server kick-started my recognition as a creator

For that I’m thankful and still look back at this part of my life with a warm smile

But nothing can last forever

(god I’m saying it like something horrible happened, which is not the case)

Basically

The reasons are mostly the same as why I left the TNP fic*: I’m not active on the server + most of my friends left from there

(*TNP - The Narrative Parable fanfic – a collaborative project involving many other creators and narrators)

So um yea, this might not be enough of a reason

But I will not do a whole comic on “The history of TSP fandom” right 📓🖋️

(oh wait I might actually 😭💥 you will maybe get this joke far in the future)

___________________

I also want to address

Discord Shenanigans aged, quite a lot

I do not regret making those comics, I still like them to this day

But

That content is not something I want to be known for, to me, it’s part of the past

I look back at them as archived memories

They are like an old photo album of sorts 📒

____________________

This does not mean I’m leaving TSP fandom

Want to be clear on that one

I still enjoy the game and the community it built around itself

Yes I still enjoy the fandom, despite meaningless drama in the community that ruins the fun for everyone

(It’s my first fandom I was a part of, I’m biased ok 😈)

‼️ I do not justify any messed up people who are or were in the fandom ‼️

What I’m trying to say that drama/creepy people are just part of any fandom experience honestly

I totally understand people who just don’t want to be a part of the fandom, it’s reasonable and valid. I’ve heard some really messed up stuff, I don’t know the full extent of every situation and don’t want to discuss it. I don’t believe I have the right, nor the information to even mention it. Creeps are not a fandom’s problem, creeps are just a problem.

And if people don’t want to address those situations: do not harass them with questions. If people want to address their experience or thoughts, they will. If they don’t want to start drama/don’t feel comfortable/just simply don’t want to - you should respect their decision. No person is obligated to report anything to the crowd.

On the side note (since I can’t shut up) - Barry

I kinda 👀

I kinda wanna explore him as a character and tell the story I made for him 👀✨

I will make a separate post about him later down the road

But as for now: yes the potential story revolves around tsp + Narratorverse aspects, yes I may abandon that idea bc of how complicated it is, yes I’m talking and overthinking too much - we will get there when we get there 🤚

So I’m still here, I still care about tsp creators: they do amazing stuff and they are wonderful people

As always sorry for that scroll of text 👉👉 thanks for your time, see you in the next random huge text post 👋

#bear answers #bear text rambling #yay new tag to organise long posts #tsp fandom #tspud fandom #discord shenanigans #discord server #narratorverse

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scarlet-doll-13 · 6 months

Text

Dulce Periculum - Danger Is Sweet

Lizzie Glass has been running from her family and their empire for many years. Upon hearing her baby brother was in a coma and the world has gone to shit, Bobby Glass drags her back into the chaos once more.

Prelude

Edward was surprised to see a woman with Bobby Glass in the birdcage. She looked a little like Susie from the back, with the same dark hair. But as he approached closer, he could tell the difference. This woman was of similar height but much broader across the shoulders, dressed in ripped jeans and a leather jacket Susie would never be caught dead in.

“You got some bollocks, ain’t ya? Coming here. Giving my money to the man who battered my son?” Bobby feeds his pigeons.

Eddie sighs, “I’m sorry about Jack.”

Bobby scoffs; Eddie was toeing a little close to the line in the sand.

“That had nothing to do with me. But I wanted out, so I went to Henry Collins, and that’s why I’ve gone to Mr. Stanley Johnston.”

That little fact intrigued Bobby, “To do what?”

Eddie stands relaxed, hands in his pockets. “To help him acquire your business by obtaining the names of the other lords in your stable so he can take them over. Whoever holds that list holds the keys to the kingdom.”

Bobby turns to face the Eddie, “So you’ve come here to tell me you’ve fucked me twice?”

Eddie tries and fails to hide the brazen look on his face, “Not exactly.”

Bobby turns, gesturing to the woman in the corner. “Eddie. This is my eldest, Lizzie.”

“Susie never said she had a sister.” Eddie held his hand out to shake.

Lizzie took his hand, shaking with a firm grip. “Technically, I’m dead. But I heard about Jack, and Dad called me back.”

Bobby directed them outside to the table, “Now, tell me your plan.”

~~~~

Lizzie was impressed by the speech the Duke had given. After some pause and thought, Bobby Glass had agreed to Eddie’s plan. Now the pair stood outside the prison. The clouds parted, and the spring sunshine shone down. Eddie couldn’t help but watch how Lizzie’s hair shone copper in the light.

He watched her pull a cigarette from the carton with her teeth. “What you’re about to do could be accused of treason in Susie’s eyes. Do you know what you’re doing?”

“I do.”

She lights her cigarette with an aged Zippo, and Eddie catches a hint of menthol. She takes a deep breath, savouring the rush of nicotine, before exhaling.

“Well, good luck, your grace.” Lizzie hands him a folded piece of paper, pulled from her jacket pocket, “my number if shit hits the fan.”

Just his luck, shit did hit the fan. Susie was far from amused to hear Eddie was dealing with Henry Collins. One phone call was all it took for his stroke of bad luck to start snowballing out of his control.

~~~~

You can also find it on A03: Dulce Periculum - Danger Is Sweet

A.N. - If anyone can help this old gal with story formatting, would be gladly appreciated. It's been awhile since I've posted on here.

Tag List

@alexa-rae-dreamz

@sabrinareno

#the gentlemen 2024 #the gentlemen netflix #eddie horniman #eddie horniman x original female character #original female character

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flownwrong · 1 year

Text

expectations (a due south fic)

F/K, 1.5k words, additional tags: first kiss, stupid phone conversations, drama over a duffel bag

I'll tell you what I told ao3:

"My writing hit a wall a while back. To deal with it, I decided I'd write the only way I can now—short fic I can seat-of-my-pants in one day. A piece for each ship/fandom/idea where I have wips or thoughts that I can't make into actual works. This is the first one.

Thanks to @nigeltde-fic for dragging me down with this ship, and generally being a champion. <3”"

read on ao3

Maybe it really is a damn Groundhog Day type situation. Only twice as boring and nobody gets the girl, like, ever.

One thing he never pictured when he thought of the after-fraser-life, which he didn’t do very often, or, well, maybe he did, but he didn’t like doing it, point being—one thing he didn’t imagine was that it would be the same. As in, poof, never happened, must have daydreamed it, off you go, Stanley, play well with the boys.

And, well, it isn’t really a never-happened kinda deal, because Fraser, he just lives in a pocket in Ray’s head now, twenty-four-literal-seven, like friends do, you know, or something close. And what with Vecchio and Stella fucking off to Florida and Frannie doing her thing all while they were still doing the big adventure stuff, between all that it’s hard to not notice the change. But other than that—it’s the same job, the same desk (his desk, The Kowalski Desk), the same bottle in the cabinet above the sink and the same—the inside of his head is the same, too, giving him trouble like always.

The way they left things—if that’s even what happened, left things, huh—it’s not what he feared. Not what he expected, either—and it took him many, many frozen-through adrenaline-drunk days to put a finger on it, that there was an expectation. And now back here, it’s like one of those tip-of-the-tongue moments he’s so familiar with, only with that expectation; it circles him all predatory with every lonely shuffle around his dance-apartment-floor and every stupid late night reruns session and every finger of drink he takes with that, and then it wafts away on the wind, leaving him feeling like he missed a step and twisted his ankle. Which is kinda stupid, when you come to think of it, since it looks like all his worst-case scenarios solved themselves and left him with a cushy little offering while he was playing explorer, and wasn’t that what it was all about.

And maybe it wasn’t, because Fraser calls, like he does, which floors Ray a little every single time for reasons he can’t even begin to articulate, he calls on a Friday and brings him up to speed on Dief’s aversion to the nearest Tim Hortons (nearest being a few hours’ trip to Yellowknife) because quote he says it’s cheating and Chicago ones tasted better and frankly it’s insulting end quote and how you pay and pay and pay and how he fixed up the cabin now and the second bed is new and really much better than the one Ray had to deal with up there, he made sure of that (felled the best tree he could find, Ray wagers), and Ray finds himself nodding and humming and gripping the stupid station handset, knuckles gone white, biting his cheek, hell if he knows why, not like his smile could do any damage at this point. “There isn’t a waiting list for that bed, is there?” he says, no reservations worth stopping for. And, “no,” says Fraser, and there’s that expectation, clarion as you please, ten-four, roger that. “Greatness,” Ray says, and hangs up, and does a little shimmy he’s not even ashamed of.

And then Fraser doesn’t call for three weeks, in which Ray is very productive, managing to vent drunkenly at Turtle who looks so unimpressed Ray thinks he actually hears him sigh, pack the bag, unpack the bag, consider terminating the lease, call in with Welsh then come in anyway, chase the latest case into almost three whole days awake and get sent away by Welsh anyway once the Bonnie and Clyde of small-time food truck GTA are locked up, pick up the phone roughly thirty-seven times, put it down thirty-six, and that last time, Fraser picks up and calls out for him softly and he’s too much of a chicken to do it back. Where exactly they tripped in a dance Ray felt resonate in his bones, he can’t guess.

Week four, Fraser calls, only it’s Ray’s doorbell that rings this time, and he picks himself up faster than he would the phone.

“Fraser,” he says first, then swings the door open, “Frase,” gripping his wrists way too tight, “what in god’s name was that—scratch that, don’t say, one thing it was is not buddies.”

“I don’t see what you mean, Ray,” Fraser says, and it’s supposed to make him angry, this far in, only this time Fraser is wrapped up in a soft green-gray flannel instead of the red walking coffin and he has his beat-up bag and the stupid hat on, so even Ray can see through the reflex of it. Fraser tugs gently at him. “Ah, Ray, if you could just let me put my bag down—thank you kindly.’

“You do, Frase, I know you do.” He lets Fraser’s wrists go for half a second it takes for the bag to thud onto the floor—other side of the threshold, damn it—and not a moment longer. “Did you come to stand outside my home and bullshit me?”

“Yes. I mean, not for that, no, but yes, I forgot about—oh, darn,” he says and tugs one hand free to take his stetson off, which is how you know, if you’re Ray, things are afoot. Big things. Momentary events in history. So when Fraser steps one foot in and leans back against the doorjamb and pulls him near—with hands snaking under his arms to land just below his shoulder blades, one half of a hug not yet given, a freakish way only Fraser would go with, which fires Ray up instantly, heat flooding his face like a punch he has to close his eyes against—when that’s done, Ray can find his mouth blind he’s so ready.

“You’re off,” he mumbles, because Fraser is the one with eyes open and he still landed somewhere around where Ray’s lips turn into his cheek, and then only corrected half an inch down, catching the corner of his open-eager mouth.

Fraser presses a kiss there, with intent. “Not,” he says, and then, then he hits the bullseye, fucking A, bingo, job done, you get a sticker—or a mouthful of tongue, because that’s faster where they stand.

“Momentous,” Fraser says into Ray’s hair, some breathless minutes later, and Ray says, “wha—’ and Fraser says, “you said, or rather mouthed, something about momentary events, if my memory serves—well, it must, it’s only been three minutes. I suppose you meant momentous, given the context.”

“Jesus, Shakespeare, come the fuck in, what do I have to offer to get you both feet inside.”

Fraser straightens but doesn’t move an inch to displace Ray where he’s giving him the second half of a hug. “Well, Ray, I didn’t mean to stay, per se.”

Ray disentangles them and tugs at the lapels of Fraser’s really very soft shirt, whenever he’s grabbed those, huh. He blinks once, twice, and thinks about how many bottles he will have to get for that cabinet now, because fucking hell. The bastard didn’t even have the courtesy to rub at his eyebrow, so to him it all makes sense somehow. He looks down and frowns.

“What’s with the bag?”

When he looks back up, Fraser smiles, an honest to god I’m-back-in-ten-foot-snow-and-alive-again grin, eyes kind of superglued to Ray’s face. “Promised Dief to get some of those Chicago donuts, which are, apparently ‘the right kind’.”

Ray steps back, shoves at Fraser’s chest, no way-like, and folds in two with laughter. Fraser looks at him all affectionate, and the absurdity is so familiar it gives Ray a headrush. Or maybe that’s all the wheezing he's doing.

“A bag? A whole bag of donuts?”

Fraser gets this look where his eyes get all liquid and light, and now that Ray’s got the manual he knows that translates to scared and hopeful in downright unhealthy measures. “I didn’t count on being back to Chicago soon.”

Ray can feel he’s doing the superglue thing now, too.

Fraser clears his throat. “Oh dear. Unless—I didn’t mean to presume, it’s only that on the phone—”

Ray cuts him off in a voice that’s too rough to seize the reins of, so it will probably break in there somewhere but it’s all a-okay now, isn’t it—says, “You’ll have to get in here, Frase. I think I’ll want some pants with my donuts, and I’m now in the bag-unpacked phase—uh, anyway.”

He heads inside and hears Fraser shut the door and toe off his boots.

So maybe there was no tripping after all. Just Fraser and his insane moves Ray always learns, dancing skills be damned. Good thing he isn’t Bill Murray—would be awkward to explain this to the girl.

#my writing #fic #due south #jesus i'm so tired of not writing #or writing and stopping one third in because i suck at storytelling or even figuring out my own theme #or writing and hating every sentence #or writing and knowing fast-and-sloppy writing is the only kind i can finish #or being so cringed out with my words once i finish that i can't stomach the idea of anyone's eyes on it #let alone any kind of beta so i cut off the avenues of getting critique and getting better #or writing and feeling like i'm forcing people to read #i don't believe in writer's block but i believe in shitty life circumstances and mental health issues #so there's that #if you read this whole vent i thank you and hope you at least enjoy the fic to make up for it #f/k #due south fic #fraser/rayk #fraser/kowalski

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namelessbutters-doodles · 9 months

Text

''Let me Worship, You. The Star Prince.''

Characters : Gene Simmons, Paul Stanley, Velvet Von Ragnar.

Pairing : Stardemon/ Vonstar

Setting: Mid 80s

Au: Never Too Young to Die Au (Good Route).

Summary: ''I will not repeat those words, You've said in there Paul but I want to know....'' Velvet gently turns Paul's face towards her, seeing his sadden look. Wiping the tears that were threatening to fall away before they do, stroking his cheek. Paul opens his eyes, looking at her. sniffling a little.

''Do you really think that? About your body and Yourself?'' She asked.

She asked it. The inevitable thing he didn't to be asked yet it happened, it was out now. Right there...

Right out in front of him.

The question....

Do you really think that? About your body and yourself?

Was finally out.

-----------------

⚠️Warnings: Body worship, Nudity, Angst, Comfort, Oral Sex Implied, Body dysmorphia, Negative thinking, Self hatred, Words of affirmation, Open/Ambiguous ending, Gentle touches, Cunnligous, Ask to tag, This was supposed to be a moodboard wtf-

AlsoOnAo3

''Let me worship, In a way you deserved to be worshipped...''

Velvet muttered,

Looming over Paul on the bed. Directly on top of him, staring directly down at him with nothing but care in this little world of there's. Staring at him as he stares in awe and scared of her, wearing nothing but a towel.

Scared of her seeing his body.

Coming out from a long shower, then being pushed onto the bed by her before he can think or speak. Confused at first on why she pushed him until she spoke to him in a way that made him stay quiet for a while, tears that almost started appearing. Lips quivering, throat clamping a little.

''Is that, what you think of your body?'' Velvet kindly asked, watching Paul's face changed. She moves a few curls out of the way, to get a better look at him.

''Wh-what d-do you mean?'' Paul Questioned, tightening the fluff of fabric against him. So nothing would show, nothing was showing but he did it anyway and she noticed.

She sighed.

''I've heard you, y'know?'' His eyes widen, turning his face away from her. Avoiding her stare and the question, focusing on the window beside him. ''In the bathroom, You were....''

Paul shuts his eyes, trying to shut her out.

''You were hurting yourself with words, in a way I've never imagined you to say. Degrading your body and perhaps mind with words that shouldn't never be uttered from anyone or to you for that matter...''

But he couldn't, he never could when she was around.

''Telling yourself you look horrendous in the mirror while looking exceptionally gorgeous, pointing out the things that may seem like flaws to you or the things on your body that been there since the beginning or starting to appear, while may seem awful to you but it's special to me....''

She goes on and on, proclaiming words to him while he lays there just taking the things she's saying. Gulping when she says the words like Beautiful, charming, pointing out some of thing that she thinks are radiant to her until...

''I will not repeat those words, You've said in there Paul but I want to know....'' Velvet gently turns Paul's face towards her, seeing his sadden look. Wiping the tears that were threatening to fall away before they do, stroking his cheek.

Paul opens his eyes, looking at her. sniffling a little.

''Do you really think that? About your body and Yourself?'' She asked.

She asked it. The inevitable thing he didn't to be asked yet it happened, it was out now. Right there...

Right out in front of him.

The question....

Do you really think that? About your body and yourself?

Was finally out.

Silenced filled the air except for the harsh rain hitting against the glass windows between them. Velvet sat up, waiting. Waiting the answer she doesn't want to hear or know but it's...

There. Right there in front of her, Laying down on the blankets in nothing but a towel concealing everything. Concealing the answer and thoughts. Thoughts that she sometimes wish she could enter and change them but couldn't, she wish it did work like that but it would never be.

Concealing his face with his hands to hide the expression that was starting to show from within him. Trying not to shake yet couldn't contain the muffled cries and wheezes that were coming out from him.

The air was soon filled with it.

Velvet watched him cry, tears staining the blankets. Fingers becoming wet from covering his face. Wheezes coming from him.

It Pained her to seem like this, to seem him cry. To see him...

Like this.

She reached her hand out to touch him and to hold him but pulled it back away not to startle him or make it worse.

She sat there hearing those cries until he went by her and thus letting her touch him. Letting her hold him as tears began to show on her, petting his head gently.

Crying into her chest, staining her clothing with tears and possibly ruining as well but Velvet didn't care about that.

It was just clothing, replaceable.

But unlike clothing, people weren't.

XxXx

The crying went away as soon as Paul calmed himself, wiping his tears and fixing himself. Laying his head in Velvet's lap as she gently stroke his hair.

He felt calmer now than before, the tears had stopped except for a few. Throat not clamping up, Lips were still quivering but not bad like it was before. He was good except...

it was out there.

However, the answer was still not said but he knew and Vel Definitely knew it as well. Knew from the way Paul reacted, Knew how everything just went, Just Knew from the feelings and the words that came from Velvet minutes before...They...

Just Knew, And It was time for Velvet to let him know how much love his body brings her the joy and appreciation it does, starting by moving there positions to be more accommodable and Going...

Slow.

For him.

Paul laid under her as he stared at her, holding the towel against him more as she leans towards him. Looking at him softly until he pulled her in with his lips slowly. Kissing her gently as her hands went up to hold his face. Pulling him in as well, tongues going over and touching each other.

Lathering them with saliva, Biting and pulling there lips with teeth. Mainly Velvet's doin with her fangs, but he didn't mind it. It felt good feeling those against his lips. letting pierced his skin, feeling her tongue licked up the blood from the small punctures.

Getting more heated, as they kissed each other. Paul hands went away from the towel the minute, his heat was starting to come, a fire within him starting. His hands grabbing Vel's face. Pushing her face against him more...

Until she yanked the towel away from, revealing his body. Rendering him nude as day.

''Velvet!!! What r'u-Mph!!!'' He yelled, being interrupted by a kiss from her for a long while until they pulled apart for some air, breaths hot and steamy from the action that happened.

He tried grabbing the pillow but was stopped before he can do so, his wrist being grabbed by Velvet. Pinning them above his hand, He looks at her with a worry expression.

''What are you doing?'' He nervously asked, trying to cover himself but it was no use. The blankets were all squabbled up, pillows were pushed far away. Towel was on the floor and Most of all,

The window wasn't covered, letting sunlight in. covering them both with it's presence, Velvet look monstrous yet enticing while Making Paul look like a Prince.

A heavenly prince.

An prince, who deserved to be worshipped.

Velvet doesn't say a word, letting her head drop by Paul's right ear. Mouthing the scarred parts of it and the skin, licking and suckling on it making Paul hold his breath for a while until she pulled away leaving little bites trailing down.

''Vel-velvet, wha-Ah!'' He cried, Feeling her tongue licking his tits. Doing the same thing she did to his ear but gripping the chest hair that was growing from him. Mouthing the tits like she was thirsty, using her one hand while the other was holding Paul's wrist down.

Lathering them in her saliva, kissing them passionately then roughly. Letting her other hand go, both of her hands squishing Paul's tit's together. Pushing her nails, into the tip of them. Making Paul let out a feverish moan, the fire becoming stronger bit by bit.

She then went towards his stomach, where his knees were hunched up. Covering the lower half of his body, concealing some of the parts he was mainly sensitive about.

Velvet look down at him, putting her hands on his knees. Rubbing her fingers against the skin, feeling the little hairs that were soon starting to grow.

She looks up at him, he was covering his face with a pillow. Breathing feverly into it, trying to conceal his moans from the gentle touches and kisses he was receiving. Face flushed, eyes half lidded even watery.

He looks up at her, twitching. Hating how sensitive his body was from her touches and how it's reacting to them. He never knew how really sensitive his body was until she entered the picture.

Her rough and sharp hands against his soft body did wonders to him, he never imagined such roughness would ever feel splendid to him, but it did and...

He loved it, just he was loving the touches he was receiving slowly bit by bit.

Warming up to them, as he warmed up to her.

Yet, wanting to know more why she was doing this to him. Why she was giving him such tenderness and love to a body like this, a body he disliked from the negativity from others he received in the past. A body that was put through hell time and time again, A body that was almost destroyed in a brutal encounter nearly dying.

A Body he wanted gone, but right now....

He's not too sure about it, from the Attention Velvet's giving him.

In a quick flash, Velvet open his legs. Revealing himself entirely, Almost going down on him on his hairy cunt before Paul yelled, reaching his hand out.

''Wait!!'' Hand almost making contact with Velvet's hair, a inch away from it. inches away from grabbing it, it was like a lifeline. A lifeline for him to get a response from her.

A response he deeply wanted to know...

From her.

Velvet stops and looks at him, her hands holding his legs open until letting them go gently. letting them sit on each side of her while she was in the middle looking directly up at him from below.

Breathing slowly, Paul sat up. Looking down at her, seeing her nestled between his legs looking alluring as ever with that face of hers, the face that brought up so many emotions and feelings within he couldn't ever explained even when asked.

Getting extremely shy or nervous, when it's about her.

Velvet stared at Paul in silence, just watching him and waiting for him to speak. Deep in thought until....

''Wh-Why?'' Paul questioned, Hair covering part of his eye.

''Why what?''

''Why are you doing this to me? Touching me with your hands and lips on my body when it looks bad? Giving me kisses, kisses I don't deserve from a person like you? A Kind and sweet person Planting them on things I hate. Caressing me and being gentle, when I know i don't deserve it? Being soft and...Gentle...

''With me?''

Velvet looks at him intensely, listening to him as speaks.

''Why can't you see the things that I see? What do you see in me and my body that I can't see? Why are you treating it with such love when I can't even love it?'' He croaks, tears starting to appear but he wipes them away.

''Why are you being....Kind to me, when I can't even do that....

''Just....why?'' He softly asks, sniffling. Watching Velvet for a while until she goes up to him slowly, at his level. Face to face, She moves the curls away from his face. Seeing the wrinkles, eyes bags and whatever he has that may be bothersome to him but isn't to her.

Deep in thought, she strokes his cheeks gently. Watching him look at her, wondering why she was doing this to him. As she was giving his body the attention it deserved when he think it doesn't when it does deserve it. The way his body reacted so positively to her touches was astonishing, Never before she touched someone and they yelp or moan from just being touched or kissed.

It seems like no ever, did that to him. Never giving him any gentleness or the worshipped he deserved. It seems....Like....

His body was always craving for anything to be touched by and how he wanted to be touched at times but never spoke about it or ignoring what he truly desire or crave....And.....

It's about time for her to change that.

''Why, You ask?'' Velvet goes, Seeing Paul nod.

''Yes...Why?'' Paul questioned, gulping.

''Because....''

She leans closer to him, her hand resting on his inner thigh. Looking down at it for a while before she spoke....

''Because someone like you deserved to be touched and worshipped, A prince that deserved to be showered with appreciation and be touched with it as well. A prince who looked radiant no matter what they look or feel, always bring such brightness when around...''

''A body n mind that been through the toughest of times, that may be shattered to you but you hold it together with one piece of it that you always had and will carry around with you forever until the end of time....''

''A-and what is that?'' He asked.

''Yourself.''

''Vel, what do you mean?'' He eyes her.

''Despite what you may think about yourself, your body, mind and everything about you. I think differently about it, even you don't see it for yourself. I do and others may too, but Mainly me....''

''I see the things, you can't see. And i want you to know what i see, after all this time. I want you to know how much i love you and your body when you don't at times, i want you to know....

''How much you deserved..it..when you think the opposite.''

''Velvet....i...''

''Don't say anything'' Shushing him, before going down between his legs. ''I know it may take a long time for you to love your body and you yourself as well but please....

Her eyes become watery, making eye contact with him.

''Let me worship, in a way you deserved to worshipped. Let me treat your body, as you would treat mine. Let me hear that angelic voice of yours's sing when I bring you to edge of ecstasy while the sun sets on the horizon, blessing us both with it's presence...Let me hear....

''The Star prince who should be worshipped, in the night while he sing to the heaven's above. Let him...

Know, how much I worship him in his time of need...''

''Let me Worship, You. The Star Prince.''

Paul stares at in awe, he doesn't know what to say or think to that. He doesn't know what to do until she spoke again.

''So...Paul...''

He looks at up her, heart beating slowly.

''Would you let me worship, like the prince you are? Right here, right now? Giving you the attention your body craves, yet you craved the most, Hearing you cry out in pleasure instead of pain? Would you let...

Me go down on you, the way you want it?''

Silenced filled the room until Paul nodded giving his answer, not saying a word or thought because....He can't...

Not right now, Not when he's being worshipped and beloved by her. Mind frozen, Throat couldn't be used. He couldn't do anything except...Let her worship him...His body...Everything about him.

He was frozen.

''Good boy.''

She said, going down on him. Before saying...

''Repeat after me....''

One lick.

''I'm beautiful.''

Two licks.

''I deserved this.''

Three licks.

''I Matter.''

Fourth lick.

''Sing for me, My Star prince. Sing'' She proclaimed, licking from the bottom to the very top. touching his clit, hearing him Feverly cry out as he was being pleasured while repeating the words quietly at first then louder minutes later. ''Let The world know how angelic your voice is to me and to everyone, granting us with your presence and voice...

''Letting me know.''

And Know he did, as this was the night everyone heard the cries, Moans and the Sweet Angelic voice of a prince, A Star prince. Who was worshipped and pleasured in the night, by a Queen.

A Queen who let him knew, how much his body and Most of all, Him. Brings so much to her, when no one else hadn't...The Queen...

Who Made the Star prince Know...How much he...

Mattered, By....

Worshipping him.

---------------

I need tissues, didn't expect this to be so long but it was and i really loved it. Anyway hoped you guys, enjoyed this.

Comment, Share, Like this, Anything to show support~

Anyway, hope you have a great night or day (been writing since 6 am XD)!

@elrohare @speckster @angelbambisworld (Happy belated birthday) @starry-eyed-never-satisfied @tanookikiss @kissismybbg0exceptformarkstjohn @simmonsgf @sagii24

@cei606 @insanityisdivine

if you like to be tagged, let me know by inbox or message. If you don't then let me know, reach out to me.

Anyway, going into the hole to cry my eyes from this bye!

;w;

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enchantedlandcoffee · 9 months

Text

Annual Writing Self-Evaluation

Thanks for the tag @allwaswell16 <3 I posted a lot of works this year so it's all under the cut 🥰

1. List of works published this year:

There's no one I love more in this world than Stanley Tucci

Kiss In The Kitchen Like It's A Dancefloor

Can We Please Get Back To Lovin'?

Two Hearts In One Home (WIP)

If The World Was Ending, You'd Come Over, Right?

Rush Hour Crush

Court Wine

Hope We Grow Old But We Never Grow Up

Hold On I Still Need You (WIP)

Bloodline of Queens (WIP)

Eager To Please

Running Over Thoughts That Make My Feet Hurt

Tell Me With Your Mind Body And Spirit

And I Can Lend You Broken Parts That Might Fit

My kiss can mend your broken heart

Bodies entertwined with their lips

When It's Good It's Really Something

Tied Up Like Two Ships

Just Let Me Adore You

When The World Is Cold, You'll Have A Place You Can Go

Was Tangled Up And Twisted

Actions Have Consequences

Gagging For It

Share a Single Bed (and tell each other what we dream about)

I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life

Lips so good I forget my name

Friends Don't Know The Way You Taste

Let Me Be Your Last First Kiss

Always You

I'm Missing Half Of Me...

Christmas Advent Calendar

Do you really want to be all alone?

Feel My Traces

Let Me Inside

Have yourself a larry little christmas

I'll make this feel like home

To Find A Love That Feels This Right

I got me an appetite, now I can taste it

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

Probably 'If The World Was Ending, You'd Come Over, Right?'. This is the work I am most proud of because I wrote it during a not great time in my life and it was my first proper attempt at writing angst. It's also the first chaptered fic I had finished and in a way, I found my voice in terms of writing. And I formed a connection to the characters which has helped in the long run when brainstorming and planning scenes.

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

Unfortunately either 'To Find A Love That Feels This Right' or 'Tied Up Like Two Ships'. I just really clashed with the ideas in my mind and the words that I ended up writing. But thankfully, they're part of seperate series so I can expand on the worlds and hopefully make them better.

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

This sad fluff snippet from If The World Was Ending, You'd Come Over, RIght?

He put himself to work making a simple breakfast, one that he and Harry had had more times than he could count. As he carried out the task, he allowed his mind to wander, well, allowed wasn't really the right word. His mind took him on a journey he didn't sign up for. A journey full of mornings just like this, one of them getting ready whilst the other prepares food. A journey where the patter of little feet joins him in the kitchen, a little boy with brown curls and bright green eyes. A journey where the love of his life walks in, their daughter in his arms as he scoops up their son as well.

5. Share or describe a favorite review you received:

I have a few that I loved a lot (I love any and all reviews I get) and I'll share them below:

Ash, this was amaaaaaaaaaziiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing!I am officially your biggest fan now and I demand being granted that title.Wow you're talented, had me want to cry, throw up, smile and laugh all at the same time, I loved it! I'll read everything else by you I can get my hands on ;)Just lovely <3

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

The past month or two. It was hard balancing work, school and writing and also being at my childhood home with fic deadlines to meet. And also being emotionally drained for two months doesn't really help get me in the writing mood.

7. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

I think the emotional scenes in If The World Was Ending really surprised me. I never knew I could come up with little rants like that, let alone multiple in the same fic.

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

I feel like I grew a lot as a writer this year. I explored different genres and themes I never thought I would (writing smut, writing angst, writing omegaverse, writing different pairings other than larry), I wrote about 73k this year which is about 70k more than I have written in my entire life.

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

I hope to improve in my ability to write and update WIPs, also to improve both the quality and quantity of my writing.

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

There were a few people who really helped me this year:

@justahappycloud was my beta for my pirates fic, my Two Hearts In One Home fic and was always cheering me on. @babyhoneyheslt hears nearly all of my ideas first and has helped me plan so many of my fics. @red-pandaaa has helped me with my confidence in writing and in general. @lunarheslwt has inspired me as a writer and has also been cheering me on from the very beginning!

11. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

A lot of angst as it's been a rollercoaster of a year. Also a lot of Harry and Louis' feelings whenever they're crushing have also been my way of getting my feelings out about people in my real life.

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

No matter how silly or weird you think an idea is, you should just go for it! Even if it doesn't fit your normal "brand", don't be afraid to branch out and write new things.

13. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

I'm looking forward to finishing my Zayn fic for @zaynsalbumsficfest as it's going to be so fluffy. Also my groundhog day magical fic for @romcom1dficfest is my favourite plot I have come up with so far (aside from Witchrry). @ohharold and I are working on something quite cool for @1dteamworkfest . And I'm hoping to update Two Hearts in One Home and to finish and post my Witchrry fic.

14. Tag three writers whose answers you’d like to read. ;)

@lunarheslwt @babyhoneyheslt @hellolovers13

#annual writing self-evaluation

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chirpbudgie · 1 year

Text

introducing my stanley for rawts: gidget!!!!!!! his name was from his narrator so he decided to change it :-) like stanford, he loooooves learning but his narrator got after him for asking questions. for now i did some writing about him……(kept falling asleep writing it, FINALLY FINISHED!!!!!!!!!) and later? who knows.!!! i have a ref almost done which i’ll probably post later under the rawts tag. as well as a bunch of other facts and like. half a drabble that i can talk abt. but i will prolly just make a separate post! ok i’m rambling hello to @queenburd and @charmemes

some inspiration drawn from Satisfied by Pansychic27213 on ao3 but when am i not inspired by that.

The Parable had been tense for some time now. Stanley wasn’t keeping track, but the narrator probably was. He was petty like that. But it’s not like he was allowed to have time to himself to cool off, because why would that be a good idea?

(The narrator didn’t do anything unless it was his idea.)

“Come on! You can do it, Stanley.” His tone was patronizing. Of course the son of a bitch would turn up his volume. It’s not like Stanley’s feelings mattered or anything. He never respected boundaries unless he was in a good mood.

Stanley reminded himself to unclench his jaw and it popped when he did. He stepped through the left door. Hopefully, if he stayed quiet and played peacemaker for a while the narrator would stop trying to get a rise out of him.

(No broom closet. Comfort is off limits right now so it isn’t taken away again.)

He pretended to be surprised in the meeting room. Stanley stifled a sigh in the bosses office while the monologue continued, but still acted thoughtful and put a random code in before the real one. Looked around a little, raised his eyebrows, furrowed them.

And he pretended to look surprised when the elevator opened. He did not need to pretend to be surprised when he caught movement in the corner of his vision and tripped on a wire. Obviously the narrator moved it, but a wave of fear washed over him when he thought about giving a response.

(Okay, so he wouldn’t give fake reactions. He was just trying to play along; usually it’s appreciated. Use your words, narrator—what are you, three?)

The narrator’s voice was still cranked up and echoed in the large chamber, bless his heart. Stanley gripped the hem of his shirt as he walked and his senses buzzed unpleasantly.

(He was not going to have a meltdown this soon after their fight. He wasn’t. Not a sensory one, anyway. He’d rather go down from his own choices.)

His fear had finally receded to anger again and the button panel was his victim. The narrator didn’t care how hard he punched it, since it was obviously made of something strong. (He’d love to determine what exactly, but he didn’t have a magnet. Wasn’t allowed one, after…)

(He couldn’t remember. Didn’t want to, anyway.)

With the telltale buzz of the monitor shutting down, Stanley could make out the narration again. He sighed with relief. Now that the volume was normal, he listened in (out of politeness, but still).

“Stanley reflected on how many puzzles still lay unsolved. Where had his co-workers gone? How had he been freed from the machines grasp? What other mysteries did this strange building hold?” The narrator’s voice was mocking when he asked the questions and it was grating like nails on a chalkboard. The voice he always used to mock Stanley. Anger bubbled up again. Maybe his co-workers had left because they couldn’t stand the sheer disrespect of this guy. They should’ve taken him with; subjecting him to this was a fate worse than death.

“But as sunlight streamed into the chamber, he realized none of this mattered to him. For it was not knowledge, or even power, he had been seeking, but happiness. Perhaps his goal had not been to understand, but to let go.”

Stay calm, Stanley. Deep breaths. Don’t let him get a reaction out of you.

“No longer would anyone tell him where to go, what to do, or how to feel. Whatever life he lives, it will be his. And that was all he needed to know. It was, perhaps, the only thing worth knowing. Stanley stepped-“

Stanley kicked the door as hard as he could before it disappeared beneath the floor and the echoing boom drowned out the voice. This motherfucker wanted to irritate him sooooo bad. Well, he did it. Happy?

{Boohoo}, Stanley emphasized his middle fingers in the sign. {Someone doesn’t want to address his plot-holes. I’ve been trying to be nice here, and here you go probably SPITTING all over yourself as you talk. Haven’t you ever heard, “if you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all?”}

The silence was deafening. He could practically see “the outside” change hues to an ugly yellow, warping and melting. He pushed back the fear that resurfaced and let the rage boil in him.

“Stanley. Stepped. Through. The. Door.” The narrator’s poorly concealed fury made his guts churn.

{Stop antagonizing me, I thought I was the protagonist. Isn’t that, like, one of the first rules of storytelling? You already have a conflict, you can’t make me another one out of nowhere.}

The reset felt more like a punch.

He was now in the Serious Room, which had long ago been revamped for solitary confinement. “TIMEOUT” was written in red blocky letters on one of the concrete walls, but it was the only feature remaining.

Fuck, he was in big trouble. He knows exactly what his punishment is going to be.

———

The Narrator relaxed as the restrictions of a human body melted away.

The last Parable had been rougher than he’d hoped. Just a little time to himself would be nice, or even some time with his Stanley. But he had a job to do and by god, he’ll do it.

This Stanley, he noted, did not seem to be… present. He stumbled through the halls—toward the freedom ending each time—with wide, glazed over eyes and the bucket clutched to his chest. This narrator did not seem particularly cruel, even encouraging him softly along the way. When he looked closely, this narrator’s presence was concentrated around Stanley like a blanket.

It was the fourth or fifth run that Stanley seemed to come back to himself. He didn’t stand up from his chair, disgust and guilt curling out from him in thick waves. The Narrator reeled a little, not expecting such strong emotions just from the surface. Stanley still held the bucket, apparently allowed to keep it between resets, but kept a poker face. The other narrator had receded some too, he noted.

“Are you feeling better, Stanley?” This narrator spoke. There was no softness like before, just down-to-business.

A burst of disgust billowed from Stanley again (strong enough to make The Narrator gag a little, despite his incorporeality). The office worker nodded weakly but didn’t lift his eyes from the ground.

“Good. Get on with it when you’re ready, I’ll wait out here. I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”

Stanley shudders suddenly and The Narrator feels a hazy memory. “it’s my fault,” echoes in his mind, but it feels more like a reassurance than a fact.

This Stanley is too fragile right now, The Narrator realizes. It hurts to step back and deny the poor man a hug, but he very likely wouldn’t be able to handle it in this… brainwashed state.

He still looks dazed when he completes the freedom ending again, but seems more aware after another reset and hides in the broom closet.

So it’s a drop in the bucket (figuratively) to soundproof the small room. It’s wiser for The Narrator to stay hidden from the other until he knows the extent of his seemingly unpredictable behavior.

Stanley startles at the sound of shoes hitting the ground. He stares at the new man with his hands up, but can’t seem to form anything to say. He rocks a little from his position on the floor.

That’s alright, of course. The Narrator will give him all the time he needs.

{Who?} Stanley finally manages before frantically sitting on his hands.

“I’m The Narrator of a different Stanley,” he begins, speaking softly. It’s a little hard on his knees, but he sits down on the floor too. This Stanley feels like a scared, cornered animal. “I’m going to help you leave. Would you like some company in the meantime?”

Stanley squirms a little. He has so many questions that they’re practically forced into The Narrator’s head, but he only nods. His expression is conflicted.

“Let’s see…” Wow, that is a lot, he’ll go in order. “I’m not completely sure how I’m here either. I can exist outside of this body, but most Stanleys seem to prefer I use it when we first meet. No, I created it-“

{Are you reading my mind?!} Stanley signs frantically. His mouth has dropped wide open.

“You might as well be handing them to me on sticky-notes, dear boy,” he chuckles. “I’m only listening to the surface level.”

But Stanley shrinks back. {Sorry, I hope it’s not too many questions. My narrator doesn’t do that.} He wrings his hands together and looks everywhere else.

He’s panicking, The Narrator realizes. Stanley is fearful of asking. It makes him want to cry and hold this poor man until he’s never afraid again.

He pulls himself to sit next to the office worker and holds his hand. “I don’t mind—in fact, I enjoy it very much. Ask to your hearts content.”

This Stanley wears his heart on his sleeve, it seems, and the sudden emotions hit him like a brick. It’s almost overstimulating at first.

Stanley takes a deep breath, shaky. {Thank you,} he fumbles. He wants to say more, but he doesn’t want to unlink their hands. Touch-starvation is one hell of a drug and he thinks he’ll start crying if he lets go.

Even with the reassurance, an unspoken question rests on his fingers. He finally looks back at The Narrator, who has a welcoming smile on his face. “Of course, whatever you want.”

He shuffles closer gingerly, like if he moves too fast The Narrator might leave. The older man bridges the divide and Stanley is settled in his lap.

“I’ll tell you if I’m uncomfortable,” he hums and Stanley relaxes. He curls up, resting his head against The Narrator’s shoulder. A hand begins to rub his back and he takes a deep breath again, this time in relief.

His own narrator is a ticking time bomb—he’s had to learn to switch gears fast. And that probably sped up the process of him getting here, in such a vulnerable position, but he doesn’t mind all that much. In fact, this is the first time in a long time that he’s been able to remember what hope is truly like.

But the thoughts bleed out of him like sand through a sieve. He doesn’t fight it like he always does. He’s never been truly comforted like this, it’s so earnest—there’s no fear that his coping mechanism will be exploited. That he’ll be exploited for the story.

Stanley has plenty of questions, but he can ask them later. When he remembers them.

(The Narrator notes that Stanley’s contentment is an emotion that feels stale. Like a stuffed animal that’s been moved around, but hasn’t been played with in years; dust collecting deep and thick in the fur.)

#chirping #repeat and write this story #tsp #the stanley parable #tsp oc ?#hrmmmm #anyways #gidget is just a little guy in a big world #he just wants to be held. the narrator indulges him #gidget rawts

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