#(it's both obviously but stan lets them stew) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

quidfree · 3 years

Note

Wondering how you decided to characterize the Regulus-Marauders relationships in LMV? Really love that fic btw :)

i’m glad someone asked bc i make no secret of the fact that writing said relationships (or interactions, more accurately) is one of my very fav parts about writing LMV- i’m pretty sure i’ve answered something similar but i have no qualms doing it again. i’ll put it under the cut so i can do them one at a time.

lily: lily is probably my very fav of the regulus interactions, for a variety of reasons. lily, remus and james are all three predisposed to be friendly and kind towards strangers and/or their enemies (unlike regulus and his brother lol), but lily is the person whose kindness is one of her (very few) defined traits in canon, and it’s set in stone that she has a high tolerance for bullshit, so obviously she’s the one who is going to be most unfazed by regulus’ antics and just continue to be faultlessly polite and sympathetic around him. on the other hand, lily has 0 tolerance for death eater bullshit specifically, esp after the snape experience, so she will not hesitate to sharply reprimand regulus whenever he says something even remotely anti-muggle. this means that on balance regulus is hard-pressed to find anything to complain about with her other than the fact she won’t let him be racist towards her, and especially given his recent moral quandaries he feels more chastised than he’d like to admit on the latter point. and lily is not just kind- she’s also a very clever, capable and charming witch, with none of james’ more annoying traits nor remus’ cynicism, and regulus just increasingly likes her a lot while kind of attempting to pedal back on it. lily, on the other hand, beyond her refusal to put up with any bigotry, has a particular soft spot for difficult siblings trying to make amends, and beyond that also finds regulus quite cute in certain regards- his obvious attachment to sirius, his newfound bambi act around anything muggle, his very real concern for kreacher, his transparent reluctance to befriend them. also she enjoys a bit of slytherin snark, amidst all of her gryffindor boys. basically lily gently bullies regulus by simply not leaving him be to stew in his self-indulgent pureblood angst and regulus is helpless to it. down the line, since regulus is canonically kind of a fanboy type (hello posters) he will become a staunch lily stan who spends 50% of their conversations trying to convince her to divorce james because she could do better (and silently deploring the fact she didn’t choose him as a token slytherin friend instead of severus snape). i imagine the absolute outrage of shifting his schoolboy admiration from lord voldemort to lily is one no one ever lets him (or voldemort) live down; lily takes it in stride, since he’s not even close to the most questionable admirer she’s ever had.

remus: in some ways remus and regulus’ relationship covers a lot of the same beats as lily and regulus’ - remus is also a blood aberration in the eyes of pureblood society, and also infinitely more patient with regulus’ various suspicions and barbs than he deserves. the main distinction is just that remus is less trusting- both because he lacks lily’s sibling angle to lend him sympathy, and because he’s more skeptical on the subject of personal loyalties impacting moral compasses. he’s also less willing to confront regulus’ bad takes because unlike lily remus is not comfortable with his lycantrophy and in part feels the bigotry towards werewolves is deserved, having internalised much of it and living in fear of his capacity to harm others across much of canon. as with sirius (or any of their other friends), remus is also the most observant of the gang, so he can read regulus best, which regulus (as a keen-eyed slytherin himself) is uncomfortably aware and suspicious of. these elements all add a level of strain to their relationship that doesn’t exist with lily and regulus. beyond that, however, remus is of course faultlessly civil, and his teaching instincts mean that in practice he does a lot of the quiet helping regulus privately appreciates the most- pretends to check cupboards out loud so regulus doesn’t have to ask where things go, repeats well-known details to himself within earshot of him, unobtrusively shuffles sirius’ bookshelves around so regulus has things to read. despite his suspicions regulus would pick him to spend time with any day, even fully aware of the fact remus can and will needle him into a seemingly mild debate about some facet of pureblood doctrine after a couple of hours of companionable silence. remus isn’t quite so indulgent of regulus as lily is, but he privately suspects he’s growing on him, because remus sees the good in people despite himself and also sees the black in regulus. he’s a smart kid, anyways, and it’s nice sometimes to have someone around that’s just a little less *handwaves* than the rest of the group, and someone else that does the watching. regulus just wishes remus’ general perceptive doubt didn’t have a massive sirius-(and james-)shaped blindspot, and maybe also that he didn’t look quite so contemplative whenever sirius threatens to feed him to the wolves.

james: james and regulus’ relationship is obviously the funniest of the bunch. i simply do not believe there is any way regulus could not have loathed james with every fibre of his grudge-holding being. and it’s not just the deep dark regulus-intro-chapter thing about james being very literally the one to turn sirius decisively away from his family, or the fact that for regulus’ last two years of school he had to put up with the fact sirius lived with james, or even the fact james was so archetypal of everything he’d been taught to revile as a smarmy blood traitor of the highest class. no, it’s also just that james is obnoxious- at least from the bitter perspective of a middle-schooler whose beloved older brother has unceremoniously ditched him for some loudmouth arrogant gryffindor who struts around hogwarts like he owns it and beats regulus’ quidditch team and makes a big show of thwarting his attempts to catch the snitch while he does it, winking up at the stands where sirius sits howling with laughter all the time. there is no living being on earth regulus can’t stand more than james potter. and james, of course, is thoroughly bewildered by this, because regulus is kind of civil with lily and remus despite his bigotry, and warming up to his brother, but if james so much as breathes remus looks like he wants to club him to death with an antique vase. so then it’s this whole cycle of adversity where james ‘why would someone not like me’ potter only grows more determined to get in regulus’ good books in the face of his loathing, and regulus is having a conniption bc james just won’t stop being friendly and helpful. and james fundamentally is a sirius simp (lol) and also canonically The most trusting and idealistic of the bunch, so he is staunchly in the regulus redemption camp, which makes it all the harder for regulus to just oppose everything he says in principle. not to mention james is genuinely a personable guy, who will do shit like recall some of regulus’ better quidditch plays or remember the names of people in his year regulus hung out with you, and regulus is just. suffering. beyond the inexplicable loathing james finds him very entertaining (duh, it’s sirius’ kid brother) and somewhat like a debutante who just needs to blossom into an order member; he’s the one who most regularly engages with regulus’ inflammatory statements because he’s the one who’s most willing to believe he’ll change (and also because he has years of experience telling sirius that you can’t just say that, mate, where the hell did you hear that from?). regulus hates him, and also hates himself for kind of very much definitely seeing why sirius is so into him. bastard.

also, i’m not really going into sirius here because LMV itself already does so much, but like. they’re brothers. they love each other wholly. they can (and do) hurt each other like no other. they are very awkwardly trying not to do that on purpose so much. sirius wants very, very badly for regulus to Be Like Him, which regulus resents, but really sirius wants more than anything for regulus to be Good, so they can be on the same side of things again, and regulus doesn’t really know how to handle that (especially bc some part of him very desperately seeks to regain his brother’s approval). it’s a mess but they’re trying. i think it’s esp weird for them bc they never really had a middle ground- in the Before they were inseparable and sirius was the cool older brother who stuck up for regulus as he shadowed him around, and in the After sirius was the family disappointment who couldn’t believe regulus wouldn’t follow in his footsteps and took this out on him as angrily as he could manage while regulus bitterly returned the favour. now they’re sort of at an impasse, trying to relearn the actual people they are rather than what they’ve always been to each other.

#lmv #marauders #regulus black #hp meta #qui parle #qui repond #qui ecrit #sirius black #lily evans #remus lupin #james potter #i forgot how to tag these #anon #also thanks anon v kind of you to say so

15 notes · View notes

kxhlzn · 4 years

Text

i | THE BIRDWATCHER.

SYNOPSIS: You spend some time brewing over big news, and Ben has a favor to ask.

GENRE: Coming-Of-Age, Drama, Angst, Romance, Slow Burn.

PAIRINGS: Stanley Uris/Reader, confusing Richie/Reader, Unrequited!Beverly/Reader, Bev/Ben, Pining!Eddie/Richie.

WORDCOUNT: 4.5k

WARNINGS: Profanity, semi-nudity, gay pining. Bullying, homophobia, etc in future chapters!

SONG RECS: 'She' by Dodie.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I made a post about my choice to rewrite this series, so here's the first chapter! The Losers' Club are all fifteen here, but this is still set in 1989. Pennywise doesn't exist. Reader is bisexual, or at least interested in guys and gals (& maybe non-binary pals! Whatever floats your boat!) Also if this all over the place don't come at me pls. Slightly edited and idk if it is even good so— 🤪✌🏻

There's been quite a few changes :)

MAY 1989.

DEAR LOSERS' CLUB,

No, that wasn't personal enough. You wanted each of them to know what they meant to you. Each of them.

DEAREST BEVERLY,

Why must your thoughts always drift to her first? Why can't she be third or fifth?

TO RICHIE,

You huff dramatically and crumple the notebook paper, attempting to toss it into the waste bin a few feet away.

A detached sigh tumbles from the wide desk across from you, and your history teacher slowly retracts his novel from in front of him to reveal an unamused expression.

He rolls his tongue against his cheek, and waits. When he is met with silence, he shifts in his seat. "... Aren't you, uh... Against wasting trees or whatever?"

You blink. "Yeah, obviously."

"Yeah, obviously!" Mr. Ellis laughs bitterly, and rolls his eyes. "Well, can you waste them a bit quieter?"

Before you can respond, he puts up a finger like he's suddenly been enlightened. "Or, better yet— Leave."

You tap your fingertips against your thighs, and kick your feet up onto your desk. "You know, if I didn't know better, Mr. Ellis, I'd think you didn't like me or something."

He stares at you blankly. "And where on Earth did you come up with that idea?"

You shrug, "No clue. Mr. Ellis, can I confide in your honest feedback on something?"

"I imagine you will anyway—"

"—So, listen... I'm going on a personal journey when summer break is over and I'm afraid I won't ever see you again," You explain, curving your brows inward. Your teacher uses his index finger to trace a single tear gliding down his cheek. "And, um, I don't— I don't know how to.. How do I tell the only true friends I've ever had?"

He pretends to think it over long and hard. "Let me see..."

"I don't care," He finishes, picking up his novel where he left off.

You scowl, and drop your forehead against the surface of your desk, the echo reverberating throughout the empty classroom, save for two people.

Mr. Ellis unwraps a cookie and takes a large bite, and glances at you intermediately between pages. He sighs again. "Will you leave if I tell you what to do?"

"Faster than when the lunch bell rings," You chirp, grinning brightly and leaning forward eagerly on your desk.

He rolls his eyes and puts his feet up on his desk, and pressing his back into his chair. "Go have some fun. Get high. Jump off roofs and ding-dong ditch. Just go be a kid, and tell them when the time is right. Okay?"

A light breeze rushes through the windows propped open with history textbooks, rustling the papers stacked on Mr. Ellis's large desk. Outside, the faint echo of laughter and summer jitters resounds within the four walls surrounding you.

You nod firmly, and skip to an open window.

Tossing him a grin, you give some finger guns. You crawl up onto the large sill, and before you hop out, Mr. Ellis calls your name.

He has the softest expression you've ever seen on him. "Listen— It's been a pleasure having you. Even if you were the loudest, most persistent, and possibly the worst student I've ever had. Just, uh— Be honest with your friends, okay? Don't wait 'til the last minute. They'll never forgive you if you do."

You give him a two-finger salute before hopping out the window.

You found out you were moving away from Derry in early April, due to an accident involving your grandfather's motorcycle obsession, but there was never really a good time to tell the people you've been slumming it with since you were eleven. The first time you tried, Richard Tozier pushed you off a cliff (a story for another time), and the second time, Ben burned himself on Beverly's flat iron (also a long story). The third time, the words fell dead on your lips when Stanley Uris told you you were the closest thing to a best friend he had.

You swear he was on the verge of tears.

So, you postponed. Now, it's late May, and you haven't said a word to them.

You know you have to tell them— You know this, you do, but the timing is never right. At least, that's what you keep telling yourself— Because somehow the words "you're a coward" are far too intimidating to admit.

Especially to yourself.

Heat swells across your cheeks, the massive, and rowdy, kitchen bustling with voices and feet. Your apron hugs your waist and you peer over your shoulder at Beverly, whose red hair is vibrant against the pale walls. Her blue eyes glance up to meet yours, and they are gentle. Bristling, you face Stanley on your right, who is speaking softly with an elderly woman on the other side of the counter.

The soup kitchen is a bit vacant in terms of people to serve, as it's the first few minutes before the dinner crowd pools in at seven. This time is the most peaceful— Pots and pans full of nutritional foods are filling up quick, and you're all anxious to help anybody who walks in the doors.

In Derry, there isn't much funding for volunteer work, so you do what you can— The local church offered up lodging for the soup kitchen, so you're all pretty thankful for the church leaders.

You study Stanley silently, his eyes focused and mild as he speaks with the woman. He's grown quite a bit since last summer, and he let his hair grow out a bit, so now it's a wild mess of curls. You like that he's eased up on the product, so he's all-natural. In order to catch what the woman is saying, he leans forward, in all his 5'8" glory.

He glances at you and places a hand on the woman's shoulder. "Thank you for telling me, Louanne. I'll see what I can do."

She smiles. "Bless you, Stephen."

You snort while she waddles off, and Stanley leans on the counter with his attention locked on you. There's a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"She seems sweet," You say, "How you liking volunteering, Stephen?"

He tries to prevent himself from laughing. "Stop! That's so mean, she's sick."

"What ever do you mean?" You quip, leaning on the counter next to him. Stan rubs your hair into a frizzy mess and stands tall.

"Uris, I need you over here on dishes," Willow, your team leader, shouts from across the kitchen. You can only briefly catch her curvy figure before she disappears behind the doorway.

"Nah, Willow, I got it! Stan's good with the old ladies. Real player, this one," You respond, poking Stan's stomach, "Maybe you'll get lucky."

"That's gross! Go away."

You laugh maniacally.

The dinner rush is heavy once seven hits, but it fades out at about 7:45. People are ecstatic that's it stew night because they are allowed to take a styrofoam bowl on the go. A few stragglers are permitted to camp the night out in the main hall, as the homeless aren't taken to kindly in Derry. Mayor claims it's 'bad' for traffic and tourism, but you know that Derry is the last place anyone would want to tour in. You're pretty sure it's been wiped off the maps, but that's a conspiracy theory for another time, one that Richie had so kindly coined.

Most of the kids who volunteer at the soup kitchen in the church are hoping to capture some hours for the college applications, but you volunteered because you felt like it was the right thing to do; It was simply convenient that it looked good on apps.

There's light shuffling and clanging as volunteers work to clear up the church for Sunday mass. You balance a tray of plates and glasses pressed against your chest with one arm, while you wipe down a table. There's a hand on your shoulder that suddenly startles you, causing you to drop the tray on instinct.

Glass shatters everywhere, then silence.

"Fuck!" You whisper violently, and you drop to your knees, frantically trying to pick up as many shards as possible before Willow comes screaming.

Beverly is beside you, as is Stanley, and all three of your try to clean the mess.

"God, I'm so sorry," Beverly says, "I didn't mean to freak you out."

"Uh, no, no, it's okay," You reply quickly, looking up at her. She smiles softly.

You flush and revert your attention back to the problem at hand. Your cheeks burn a bit, so you try to ignore it— But it leads to carelessness, and you give yourself a clean cut across your forefinger.

Hissing, you retract your hand and examine the damage. The minute you notice red, you become uneasy. Beverly and Stanley both take a sharp inhale.

"Oh, God— Uh, Stan, you got this? I'm gonna go get her cleaned up," Beverly says.

"Yeah, I got it."

"Thanks. C'mon, let's go," Beverly tells you, but you shake your head.

"I'm fine! S'just a cut. I can slap a bandaid on it later," You reassure her, but she's not having it.

"Now," She warns, gripping your arm softly.

Bottom line, Beverly Marsh can make you do anything she wants you to.

You kick your legs out in a steady beat, seated on a counter, while Bev digs around the first aid kit in the storage room. Her back is facing you, so you have a chance to study the freckles up the top of her spine and into her hairline.

You hold your right hand with your wrist, squeezing harder each time your wound throbs.

"Got it," Bev whispers, and she turns quickly. Positioning herself between your knees, she takes a hold of your finger and wipes it briefly with a wet cotton ball. Next, she uses a clean one to wipe disinfectant across the slit. "How bad does it hurt?"

You lie. "Not much."

Her blue eyes look at you with amusement. "Please."

"Okaaay. A bit more than 'not much'."

"Hm," Beverly applies a bit of cream on your cut. "What kind of bandaid do you want?"

She holds up plain, princess, and car bandaids.

"What the fuck are those? Gender-specific bandages?"

She says your name sternly.

You sigh. "Princess, please."

Beverly smiles and opens the package.

The room is quiet for all except the rustling of the paper, and you pop your mouth awkwardly.

"Hey," Bev says slowly, "Um, listen... You do realize that Stan—"

The door is cracked open and the curly head of Stanley peeks through. "Hey... The cut isn't bad, is it?"

You and Bev glance at each other, and Bev shakes her head.

"No, not at all. Just finishing up," She replies, sticking the pink bandaid on your wound. You hop down and wiggle your finger at Stanley with a grin.

"Good as new!"

He smiles softly. "Glad you're okay. I cleaned up all the glass, so don't worry about it."

"Okay! Thanks, Stan," You say, hooking your arm around his neck. He prickles a bit but relaxes immediately.

Beverly unties her apron and lays it on her forearm while she walks on your free side. "M' still upset Ben couldn't make it."

"Me too," You agree, "He was really looking forward to it."

"He can always go without us," Stan adds.

"It's not the same, though!" You say.

Stan shrugs.

It's humid outside the church, but that's to be expected during the summer. The sky is a deep cloudy sapphire, with the buzz of bugs filling the air. The older volunteers disappear into their cars while you, Stanley, and Beverly talk amongst yourselves. Bulbs above the entrance are the only source of light within a few yards.

Beverly puts her weight on her left foot, the gravel beneath her crackling while she recites a story Bill told her about local legends.

Just as she reaches the climax, the church doors creak open and Willow appears. She keeps her back to you while she locks the entrance, and once she turns, she eyes the three of you.

"Y'all need a ride?"

All of you glance at each other, and Stanley checks his watch.

"We'd love one!" You chirp, giving him a light shove.

"If it's alright with you, of course," Bev adds.

"I wouldn't have asked if it wasn't!" Willow says sharply, but without venom. "Hop in."

Somehow, you end up squeezed in the middle, with Stanley and Beverly on each of your sides. You scowl, eyeing the passenger seat with a purse in it.

Stan's clearly uncomfortable, his shoulders curved inward while he anxiously taps his kneecaps. He seems to be looking everywhere but at you and Bev.

"Everything okay?" You whisper.

He shrugs. "Yeah, just, uh— My mom isn't big on me getting home so late from the kitchen; She wants me to quit."

"That's fucked," You say.

"Hey!" Willow barks, glaring at you through the rearview mirror. "I may your super cool team leader, but I still don't appreciate you using a dirty mouth in my car."

You snicker, and she bursts into laughter.

Beverly pokes your shoulder. "Hey, um— Would... Would it be cool if I stayed with you tonight? My dad, he, um... He went out drinking when I woke up, so—"

"Of course," You interrupt. "Stay however long you need."

"Thanks..." Bev says quietly, and she leans against the window of the car.

Willow pulls up into your driveway within five minutes, and Bev steps out. You make an effort to give Stan a brief hug before you go, and he gives you a little wave as Willow leaves.

You and Bev remain quiet when you sneak into the house through the front door, in fear you might wake your mother. When you enter the living room and see the woman's knocked out cold with the television on, you wave Beverly upstairs. She obliges.

You creep up to your mother and crouch next to her head. She's got a bit of drool pooling on the cushion, and you crinkle your nose.

Retrieving a pillow from a loveseat, you tuck it gently beneath her head and pull a blanket over her. Giving her a quick kiss on the forehead, you leave a glass of water and ibuprofen on the coffee table.

"Does she always do that?" Is the first thing Bev says when you reach your bedroom. You're a bit taken aback, but you regroup swiftly.

"Yeah. She gets these really bad migraines," You explain, leaving your bag on the floor and kicking off your sneakers. "And, um, they can sometimes turn into seizures, so we try to let her sleep as comfortably as possible."

"Oh," Bev says, "Can I borrow some pajamas?"

"Yeah!" You reply, "Just grab something from the closet or my drawers."

"'Kay," She snags a blank tank while you pick out a yellow nightgown. You're facing the mirror when Beverly pulls off her t-shirt, and you nearly choke. You can't seem to take your eyes off her back, even when you know you've been staring for too long. "Is your little brother asleep?"

You drop your attention to the floor and quickly pull off your shirt. "Yeah, should be. I'll kill the little shithead if he's not."

Bev smiles. "He's a good kid; If he's awake, he's probably reading. He likes to read, right?"

"Yup," You pop the 'p', "He's into numbers and all that. I'll never understand it."

"He probably thinks the same thing about your art, you know."

You hum and pull the nightgown over your head. "Everybody thinks that way about art, Bev. If you're not dedicated to a nine to five office job, then you're somehow a deadbeat, leaching off the productive middle class."

Bev laughs gently, and it's airy and elegant and perfect. "You're always opinionated, you know that?"

When you toss her a quizzical look, she elaborates and walks over to face you. "Not in a negative way; It's like... It's like you must have all these thoughts swimming around in that pretty head of yours."

Pretty?

Beverly continues. "I mean, you're just so... I don't know? Most people don't care about anything, let alone the world or society. You're bound to make a difference."

You blink at her, your fairy lights hanging loosely from your window and spreading a gold light. Her ocean eyes are iridescent. She's iridescent. Her pink lips curve into a smile, and she glances at the floor.

"What?" She whispers.

You sputter. "N-Nothing. Just, um— Thanks. Thank you, really. I— I just, nobody's taken me that seriously before," You explain, tucking a thick strand of hair behind your ear. "I've always just been Loudmouth."

Bev's face melts into one of sympathy and curiosity, her long eyelashes brushing her cheeks. Gingerly, she places a hand on your shoulder, one that shoots electricity throughout your skin. Her grip tightens. "Listen. Quiet people don't do shit, okay? People who keep their opinions to themselves don't make history."

You shrug a shoulder and give her a lopsided smile. "I can't even make a difference in backwater Derry. How the hell am I supposed to change the world?"

Outside, rain begins to patter restlessly against your windowsill, keeping the stars awake. Inside, Beverly looks at you like she just might think you're a goddess.

"You've already changed mine."

Your entire life, people have told you how the world has to be: Simple, honest, and conservative. They've told you who to be, who to love, what to do. It's always been "you'll meet someone who makes you feel like the world is glowing", followed by, "don't rush, you'll find him soon". What if you don't want to find him? What if you want to find her?

What if you already have?

Beverly Marsh is incomparably the prettiest girl you've ever seen when she's jumping from the cliff into the lake below.

Scratch that, she's incomparably the prettiest girl you've ever seen, and she makes your universe glow.

She's a flash of red, shimmering, shining, iridescent; A ruby tossed into the sky like a plain penny into a wishing well.

She's radiant, tomboyish, and beautiful.

Beverly, in all her elegance, has learned to tame your chaotic hair, your wild eyes, and the crooked pair of overalls that swallowed your thighs. Her, that gentle smile, rendered you speechless daily. You, notoriously nicknamed Loudmouth or Mouth, were silent for her.

You've already changed mine.

"Hey, Mouth! The hell are you gawking at?"

Richie Tozier waves a hand in front of you and you crank your eyes up to his squinting face. His freckles surround the massive pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose, and his black hair nearly blinds him.

You throw up a palm to block the sun, but his giant head is doing most of the work. "Your mother over there in her Sunday best."

If he swung his body around any quicker, his head might have popped off like a Barbie doll. He gazes off into the woods across the quarry, his lips upturned in an unattractive flytrap.

Beverly slips her cream-colored gown off her pale shoulders, drawing all eyes to her. The sun beats down on her chopped red locks, accenting the constellation of freckles along her nose, and warming your flesh under its rays.

Catching the way they all gaze at her, as starstruck as yourself, it hits you like a freight train— you weren't looking at her like you should have been.

Under the intensity of her icy blue gaze, you feel so small; so homely. Your chest aches, but that girl doesn't give you time to grieve. She is in the air in a split second, high like an angel, falling towards the murky waters below.

The boys crowd around the cliff's edge, mouths gaping, eyes bright. It strikes you from the heavens, like a harsh cacophony: These aren't your boys anymore.

You had slipped out of the world briefly, and before long, you are alone at the edge.

Sandy curls appear in front of your face, tilting to reveal the kind eyes of Stanley Uris. His mouth forms a firm line. He seems to be at war with himself as he stares out into the blue sky, dotted with white clouds.

He stays silent for a moment, searching for the right words. "I want to go last," He finally breathes, seemingly triumphed in his verbiage, "I don't want them to see me cross my fingers behind my back before I go."

The vulnerability he expresses warms your heart, and you grin up at him, having gained your confidence back. You are grateful he didn't pry into your dilemma. You didn't expect otherwise, but it was still nice. Stanley is a boy of few words, but the word 'shy' doesn't fit right, as it implies bashfulness or a sweet innocence.

Rather, he prefers the quality of speech over quantity, believing that the chattiest voices aren't always the loudest. A respectable notion, sure, but you tend to believe it in theory rather than in practice.

Stanley's thin frame makes no unnecessary movements, but rather awaits yours. One of his hands cuffs the other in front of his hips. The cool breeze had only an inch to squeeze between within the crevice of your shoulders.

You pull your yellow scrunchie from your hair, and wrap it around your wrist, as Stanley speaks, "Promise not to tell?"

“Pinky promise,” You insist, holding up the smallest finger on your right hand. When his wraps around yours, you toss him a childlike grin. “I never break them.”

You're gone, cascading down towards the green waters, each wave crystallizing in your descent.

"I know."

Stanley crosses his fingers behind his back and steps off the cliff's rocky edge.

Stan’s dive is a flash of gold: Like a bird, graceful in its dip, his curls like its wings.

You find yourself wanting to ask him what it's like to fly.

The water is cool, luckily fizzling the heat out of your cheeks when Beverly appears beside you, grinning softly at—

Bill.

You swallow thickly and turn your head to Richie and Eddie arguing about something pointless. Richie's skin is set ablaze every time Eddie points a finger at him or moves closer.

Across from you, Ben's eyes are set on your face, and you nearly jump when yours land on them. He sputters silently and glances over to the boulders near the trees.

You tilt your head in question, "Ben, what is it?" It's too late now, but you realize you weren't very subtle. At all.

He facepalms. "Can we, uh...?"

Nodding in understanding, you doggy paddle through the lake and onto the shore. Ben is quickly beside you.

The boy leads you over to the boulders and sits on a large one. His hands are glued to his knees, and you can tell he's anxious.

You lean your elbows on your thighs and wait.

"U-U-Um— Can I..? Would you..?" He shakes his head suddenly and regroups. "I need— I need help with something..."

"...Okay..?" You gesture for him to elaborate.

"Can you help me write love notes to Beverly?" He spits out softly, and you choke on your own spit.

You stand up abruptly, like you sat on a pin, and cross your arms. Your brows curl inward in confusion, embarrassment, and anxiety. "W-What? Sorry, I don't— Why?"

"Because... You are a girl, you know? You know a lot more personal stuff about her, I think, right?" He asks, rubbing his clammy palms together.

"Uh," You run your fingers up your arm, "I guess? I don't think... That would be... She doesn't..."

He gives you an awkward crooked smile. "I mean, it's okay 'cause you're a girl. I wanted to ask Bill or someone else but since they're guys it might be different..."

"H-How so?"

"Well— You know. They might secretly like her or something," Ben says, staring at the dirt by his feet.

You swallow, and glance out to the water; To where she is. Beverly meets your eyes and smiles gently. Your stomach does a flip.

"Can I— Can I think about it?" You inquire softly, and Ben nods swiftly.

"Yes! Yes, of course. That's okay," He sounds a bit sad.

You reach out and rub his shoulder. "You're an amazing person, Ben, you know that? She'd love anything you wrote to her."

You smile crookedly, the corner of your mouth twitching.

Ben nods slowly and shakes his arms a bit to free himself of nerves. "You're right— I should just be more confident..."

He's obviously trying to convince himself more than you.

"Bev—" He shouts suddenly, and she looks over with a grin. One of her hands runs through her hair, and you can feel her eyes burning holes in your face just seconds before she focuses on him. "You look beautiful today!"

Beverly Marsh smiles ever so gently, her cheeks blossoming in a shade of scarlet. The freckles lining the bridge of her nose accent the brightness of her eyes, and you swallow thickly.

She really does.

Tapping a pen against a thick sheet of paper, you push your tongue against your cheek and read over the words again.

PROS:

♡ helping ben!

♡ practicing writing!

♡ practicing stationary!

♡ getting ben and bev together!

♡ making bev feel good!

♡ getting over the butterflies?

You scowl. The hell does that mean? You glance at the clock, which reads 8:37. You consider the pros to writing anonymous love letters to Beverly, which seems to be a lot— And the selfish part of you tells you that it would be beneficial to you— How so? You're not quite sure, as admitting to yourself that it even took nearly an hour.

Within your friend group, you've always been relatively open— Keeping up with honesty, kindness, and always wearing your heart on your sleeve. Stanley said it was naive to do so, but you feel that in a world that is so blatantly harsh and negative, being real with those around you is a heap of good. So why is it suddenly so difficult to be honest with yourself?

You concentrate your thoughts of Beverly, so that you might understand, or in the least identify, what exactly your true intentions with her are. Immediately, your stomach curls, and you feel your insides turn to mush. These sensations are familiar— You've had countless encounters with them.

You picture her in your head, memorize the features of her that always seem to stick when she's around. Her red hair, her freckles, those eyes... And her lips. The curve of them when she grins, or laughs— And briefly, ever so, you imagine what'd they'd be like pressed against yours—

"Hey," Your mom says, your door now swung open, and you scream, tipping out of your desk chair. You land flat against your back and groan.

Your heart beats painfully in your ribcage.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. Come do the dishes," She tells you, and you nod profusely.

You inhale through your nostrils and run your fingers through your hair, sighing. Once she's gone, you push your head into the crook of your elbow.

Tears unravel into your arm.

Why did it have to be Beverly Marsh?

[ 🌱 ] taglist (from original write):

@hannarudick @cedricisnotonfire @russian-romanova @pacifythepanda @queen1054 @thebitchiestnerdtowalktheearth @delicrieux (you get to be on here cuz.. i said so).

#beverly marsh x reader #stanley uris x reader #it 2017 #it fanfiction #stanley uris imagine #beverly marsh imagine #kassiewrites #chapter one #BW #bw rewrite #the birdwatcher & his lover #the birdwatcher series #kassie writes

111 notes · View notes

lostgirlrewatch · 4 years

Text

1x08 - Vexed

Original Air Date: November 7, 2010

Written by: Michelle Lovretta

Directed by: John Fawcett

Okay, so. Vexed.

This is the original pilot. I don’t think they necessarily presented it as the first episode chronologically—more like, this is what you can expect from our show. Showcase picked it up and it went to series. Vexed became episode 1x08. You can find more info about it in this interview with Michelle Lovretta and Jay Firestone.

Anyway, this episode was shot earlier than the rest, and you can tell. Makeup and styling is different, and they hadn’t quite settled on the tone they eventually went with. As such, this episode is a bit grittier than normal. I find it interesting both for its different tone and for the fact that many of the decisions they made for the episode were made in the interest of selling the concept to Showcase.

This fucking article is great and is a much better review of this episode and why it’s so god damn good than my shit below. It also provides an extremely detailed look into...exactly what I just described above. All of the behind-the-scenes production stuff. Check it out.

The premise: Bo finds a lead on someone who might know about her mother--a falsely accused death row inmate named Lou Ann. Bo vows to prove her innocence in exchange for answers, but her quest leads her into contact with a vicious Dark Fae named Vex.

I do wonder if they wrote this episode without really knowing where it was going to fit into the first season, assuming they had an outline. It works as a standalone and in some ways it feels a little disjointed from what came before in episode 1x07, right from the beginning. Dyson coming right out and saying something so blunt as, “She’s never gonna love you,” feels a bit off to me. But then again, all the characters in this episode are a bit “off,” which is understandable. This episode is like…the prototype. The beta.

“No offense to my own kind, but humans are a little pedestrian now.” *awkwardly laughs* Right... “your kind”…haha you’re enslaved. Lauren are you okay.

“Once you go Fae you never go back, huh?”

“So I hear.”

Me:

Bo feels a little bit more aggressive to me in this episode, like when Siegfried mentions her mother and she wigs out. It’s her normal desperation plus a bit of added homicidal urges. She’s a slightly grittier Bo.

As we can observe from the opening sex scene between Bo and Dyson, this episode is a bit more sexually explicit than we’re used to. This, I am not super a fan of on a personal level. However, the episode is also more violent than usual and incorporates horror elements. This, I am super a fan of because that’s kind of my shit, and it’s something I wish they would have leaned a little bit more into in the rest of the series.

There is nothing I don’t love about this scene. The creepy opera music that sets the stage, the gourmet meal prep (those gourmet meals always end in murder).

(Am I the only one who loves this random little detail they plopped into the background?)

Vex’s entrance—not overly dramatic, just, boop, there he is.

The tense build-up as we’re drawn to the knife, not sure where it’s gonna go—

--oh, oop, there it goes.

We know what’s going to happen now, but we build up to it, agonizingly, anyway. Surely we’re not actually going to sit here and watch as he shoves his hand into the disposal and then keep watching as he turns it on and it grinds his hand up. Oh, but we are.

Some scenes have a way of sticking with ya.

So I guess even the Lost Girl universe isn’t all camp and games. People are still people. Especially when they’re ancient as fuck and have all that time to stew in the cesspool of their fucked up emotional and psychological issues. So divorced are they from the concept of mortality, growing up and growing old, that their maturity level laps itself and becomes immaturity—they tend to to behave like children.

Not all Dark Fae are curmudgeonly, innocuous old grandpas who own restaurants or absolute Queens like the Morrigan. Some of them are like Vex. And just like, fuckin murder people—and each other. Vex’s world is different than Bo’s world. Vex lives in a world where violence is mundane. Empathy is nonexistent and pointless anyhow. Sometimes I wonder if immortal characters are drawn to violence and death because it’s as close as they can get to experiencing a sort of vicarious mortality.

I love Vex’s character throughout the series—up to a certain point—but I love him best in this, his original episode. In later episodes, Vex is portrayed as a sort of morally ambiguous anti-hero, or anti-villain, whichever you prefer. I have mixed feelings on how well the transition from villain to anti-hero is handled. The farther along you get in the series, the more he becomes reduced to a shell of his former self, purely comic relief, and just…sucks.

But in 1x08, Vex is a villain. Straight up. The things that he does are horrifying and the show does not bother trying to get you to empathize with him. And to be clear, this does not mean that he is not a multi-dimensional character, that he isn’t worthy of empathy, or that he is pure evil. What it does mean is the show does something I wish more shows would do. It creates a genuinely threatening and reprehensible villain that is both worthy of your analysis, even your stanning (I stan), and yet whose actions are still inexcusable.

In that interest, let’s talk about him. At this point, his most defining characteristic, the simplest way we can begin to understand his motives, is that he utterly lacks empathy. Vex is the kind of person who would puppeteer a woman and force her to drown her own children.

He is ordered to kill this woman’s family as punishment for betraying the Dark Fae’s rules. And in this episode, Vex is shown to be someone who rigidly follows the Dark Fae’s orders without question, and without any particular investment in them either. But he doesn’t just kill the kids—he uses his powers to force the mother to do it. To drown them. For no real reason other than his own amusement. That’s another level of sadistic. For a less intense example, in his introduction scene, he gruesomely tortures Siegfried before killing him. Just for funsies. (Well, okay, and to get information.) Vex lacks empathy, clearly, and may scan as a sociopath, but he’s not a stoic one. He gets enjoyment out of tormenting his victims.

Is this the kind of guy the writers are going to try to later convince us is a harmless comic relief mascot? Surely n—

Yes. Yes he is.

I am not at all opposed to the idea of Vex slowly becoming a morally ambiguous anti-villain, even a member of the gang. In fact, I think that premise is interesting as hell. But what I feel like happens later is that the show kind of forgets that Vex did all this horrible shit in the past. Kinda brushes it under the rug. Not only does this make it a lot harder for me to get behind him becoming one of the gang, it also does the character himself a great disservice. I’ll probably get into this more once Vex starts showing up more frequently, and why I feel the writers mishandle him.

To be clear, in spite of how sadistic he is, Vex is not a malicious person. He doesn’t have any enmity for the people he’s ordered to kill. He’s not angry, not hateful, not spiteful. He just doesn’t really care. He’s almost a kind of nihilist. None of it really matters. Somebody who thinks like that would have a fairly breezy time killing people.

Because I like when in-universe politics make things complicated, I like that the in-universe politics of the Light and Dark Fae makes things complicated. Bo wants to free Lou Ann, and she wants the Light Fae’s help, but they can’t help her because it would mean basically declaring war on the Dark Fae. MAJOR no-no. Likewise, they can’t go after Vex because all of his actions are sanctioned by the Dark Fae’s government. Bo’s unalignment gives her freedom, but it’s not without its downsides. She has no influence and no resources when things get too big for her to handle.

“Smells like fried bitch.” An icon. If I remember correctly from one of the behind-the-scenes features, they brainstormed and tested out a bunch of different one-liners to use for this moment, until Ksenia Solo ad-libbed this.

Lol. Kenzi is just so done with Bo and Dyson’s drama.

Lou Ann, the Fae woman who is on death row for killing her kids, obviously strikes a nerve with Bo.

It’s kinda weird, because when we first meet her, Bo’s main motivation is that she wants to be able to live her life without being forced to kill others and stay on the run to do so. Those problems kinda get solved in the first episode.

Since then, her motivation has been to live her life without these big mysterious Fae governments telling her what to do. In the first episode, Bo, like Lou Ann, says that she chooses humans. Bo was raised human and wants a normal human life, or as normal as she can get. At the same time, most of the other characters on the show, including her friends, spend a lot of time trying to convince her to embrace her Fae identity and a Fae lifestyle, because it’s “who she is” and she has no choice but to embrace that. “Choice” is a keyword that gets thrown around a lot in this show. But what is the show really trying to say about it? There’s some kind of nature vs. nurture conflict going on here, and I don’t feel like either Bo or the show itself has really decided on which side of the line they fall. On another note, this show has huge Fuck the System vibes. Which I appreciate. We stan an icon who chooses to reject a static, repressive, harmful system even at great personal cost.

A few episodes ago, Bo and Lauren went on a mission together and cemented their bond of trust. In this scene, Lauren breaks that trust.

She sleeps with Bo to distract her from going after Vex, under the pretense that it is simply the culmination of them both being attracted to one another. The next morning, it doesn’t take long for Bo to figure this out. She is appropriately hurt. She has feelings for Lauren, there was an intimacy there, and she trusted her in a way that she doesn’t normally trust other people, because of her past. Lauren took advantage of her feelings and used her. Whether Lauren wanted to do it or not, whether she had any way of refusing, isn’t relevant in this moment; it was cruel regardless.

But what does Lauren say?

“I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Oop. There it is. There’s the Lauren I remember.

She hasn’t done anything wrong, y’all. Well, I’ll be damned. Lauren never did anything wrong ever in her life. *Lauren did nothing wrong meme*

The way Lauren says this line, with so much conviction, makes me feel like she genuinely believes it. She believes that she did nothing wrong. She is legitimately deluded about what just happened.

This is only the first in what I remember to be a very long string of instances where Lauren pushes blame onto others and denies any culpability in her shitty actions. At least, in this case, Bo isn’t buying it.

Waiting for Bo in the most extra-ass, goth, flamboyant setup possible is exactly the kind of quality villainy I expect from Vex.

It’s criminal that Bo never gets to use this awesome sword.

And…I love that Vex just gets to walk out of there, laughing. Because the system. And he’s not even really evil. He’s just a sadistic asshole. With a job. It’s. *chef’s kiss*

#lost girl #bo dennis #kenzi malikov #lauren lewis #vex #doccubus #dybo #dyson #1x08

8 notes · View notes

gravity-what · 6 years

Text

Falling into freezing water isn’t ideal

For some reason my first attempt at posting this went wrong and the ‘read more’ didn’t work so I’m just going to re-post it

And now I finally get to post this!!

This is my secret Santa gift for @wannabeagrunklefan !!

WARNING: Stancest

Content is SFW and consists of Ford taking care of Stan when he falls into freezing water. Multiple times…

Falling into freezing water isn’t ideal

“Go on without me.”

“Stanley please.”

“It’s too late, I’m done for sixer! Tell the kids I love them.”

“Stanley stop, you are being unre-”

“Tell Soos he can have the shack but he should probably keep out of the secret boarded up part of the attic where-”

“Okay now you are just being ridiculous.” Stanford sighed as he put the bowl of soup down that he had been trying to feed to Stanley. “Which, given everything you have said to me in the course of this conversation, is impressive.”

Stanley sniffled and glared at Ford from where he was bundled within an overabundance of blankets and propped up on a number of pillows. “Well you wouldn’t have to listen to it if you just whipped up some miracle cure. I know you have something on you somewhere. You just like making me suffer.”

Ford shook his head at that and didn’t have to try too hard to bite back a smile. Stanley truly did look miserable bundled up in his blankets on their bed with the radiator pulled as close as they could move it over to his side. Ford placed the soup down, a little precariously, on one of the shelves next to the, frankly too small for two grown men to share, bed and moved to crawl up next to him. Stanley glared at him as he did but his arms and legs were too bundled up to stop Ford from easily shifting them about so Stanley was pressed against Ford’s side, bundled in his arms now too as well as the blankets. He kissed softly at his forehead at Stanley sniffled and smiled softly down at him.

“I’m sorry Stanley. If you had an actual infection I would be able to do more. As it is, you’re just cold and warming you up too fast with something I invent would just make it worse.” He apologized, kissing at his forehead again “if you do get sick from this though I do have something I can give you but for now it’s blankets, warm soup, and me until that chill of yours is gone.”

Stanley grumbled at that but most of the fight had left him when Ford had taken him up in his arms. His eyes had even fluttered closed and he looked like he was closer to sleep then he had been since his accidental tumbled into the Arctic Ocean. Ford was tempted to try and keep him awake, to insist he eat the soup, but rescuing Stanley had taken a lot out of him too and he wasn’t as young as he used to be. Neither of them were.

He moved Stanley a little more so he could rest his head against his chest and leaned his own head back against the bed’s headboard, eyes slipping closed as he let sleep start to pull at him.

He tried not to snicker too much as the memory of Stanley trying to fight a very determined penguin for his hat surfaced in his mind just as sleep started to take him. Of all the ways Ford had imagined they might end up in some danger, a too-curious penguin and a smooth patch of ice hasn’t been it.

Ford wondered if the recording was as hilarious as experiencing It in real life.

—–

Ford woke up, blinking, to soft light falling across his face from the porthole next to the bed and the smell of freshly buried coffee. He blinked, rubbed hugs eyes only to hit the glasses he had forgotten to take off, and tried to put together where he was and why he was.

The bed sank, A cup of coffee was shoved into his hands, and a warm body scooted in next to him. Right, Stanley.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed.” He told him groggily as he brought the coffee up to his lips to sip. It was still near boiling and just how he liked it. “How are you feeling.”

In answer Stanley blew his nose loudly next to him before throwing the tissue on the shelf where he had shoved all the others, and picked up his own coffee, prepared far sweeter than Ford ever preferred. “I’m awake aren’t I?” Stan replied anyway with a grumble as he drank his own coffee “head feels like a balloon and I’m still aching but I can’t tell if it’s normal aching or ‘fell into ass-cold ice water’ aching.” He shifted, pressing closer to Ford.

Ford balanced his coffee in one hand and brought a hand up to run along Stanley’s forehead. He couldn’t feel a fever at least and Stanley didn’t seem to be shivering any more.

“I can give you something for the congestion.” Ford promised him, and left his hand drop. “And probably something for that aching too but I don’t want to start you down the path of daily pain medication.

“Gee sixer. Love you too.” Stanley grumbled, but there was no real heat to it, or maybe it was just hard to convey true annoyance with two clogged up noses.

Ford smiled and shifted to look out the window. It is still fall and so the sky is in a puerperal twilight that makes it impossible to tell exactly what time it is. Still, October will be over soon and the arctic will be forced into a darkness that wouldn’t end until the next spring. Ford was tempted, still, to stay up there longer to explore, even in the never ending night, but there were other anomalies to explore, closer to civilization, that they could buffer out the winter exploring.

Stanley continued to sniffle next to him.

“I’ve been thinking of heading down to Norway.” Ford finally says, conversationally as he drinks his coffee, “there is a small but persistent anomaly that keeps pinging from there. Could be fun.”

Stanley shifted at that but simply laid his head on Ford’s shoulder. He probably had a headache too from the congestion now that Ford thought about it. “Norway hu? Alright. At least I can get a decent drink there.”

Ford smiled.

————

The next time Stanley fell into the water was freezing North Sea in a near drunken stumble as he tried to hit on seals over a cliff edge as they were passing around the edge of Scotland.

“I told you those weren’t selkies” Ford complained as he brought Stanley some hearty stew from the pub they were currently renting the room above, just until Stanley started feeling a little better and could return to the colder boat. “They have smaller bodies then the ones you were yelling at and a more streamline build.” Ford insisted as he rose spoon up to Stanley’s mouth. Stanley glared at him angrily from where he was bundled up but obviously didn’t want to remove the blankets from around himself as he leaned forward to take a bite. He nearly coughed at the unexpected heat but managed to swallow it down so he didn’t spray soup everywhere before glaring again at Ford.

“Are you trying to kill me!? That stuff is boiling!” he complained, pulling the blankets closer so he could glare over them. Ford looked down at the soup before taking a bite himself and nearly choking before putting it aside. “Your right. Let’s…let that cool a while.” He mumbled, placing it on the bedside counter before standing up from the old wooden chair he had pulled to Stanley’s side.

“At least now we both have burnt tongues.” Stanley mumbled into his blanket as he shifted to lay down. Ford came back over after a moment with one of his new journals and a pen and started to sketch. Stanley turned to look at him, eyes half lidded as he did so, but soon the scratch-scratch-scratch of pen on paper pulled him down into sleep.

He was woken later, though it was hard to tell how much ‘later’ with the near perpetual night, by Ford shaking his shoulder lightly. “How are you feeling?” was asked softly as Stanley sat up with a groan, his back popping dangerously as he did so.

“Warmer.” he admitted reluctantly as he looked over to the small wood fireplace that Ford had built up sometime while he had slept. “How long was I out?”

“Only a few hours.” Ford reassured him as he picked up his abandoned journal and turned it so Stan could see the new entry. A picture of Stan falling into the ocean as he yelled at seals on one page and a picture of him sleeping bundled and sleeping in too many blankets on the next. The area in between was filled with the written account of the story and a small diagram was added to show the difference between selkies and normal seals.

Ford smiled at Stan over the book.

Stan threw a pillow at him.

————

The next time Stanley fell into freezing water was far more concerning than getting on the wrong side of a penguin or trying to hit on seals.

The next time involved a kelpie.

They had made their way to scotland after a while of exploring Norway and Ford had thought nothing of letting Stanley stretch his legs by going for a walk into the port-city they had landed in. Ford had needed time to finish off his entries into the journal and Stanley had been restless. There shouldn’t have been any harm. They had arrived in the mid-morning and the sun would be up for a while yet.

And then Stanley didn’t return.

Ford cursed himself for the way he last track of time as he worked and ran out of the boat. He nearly ran as he asked around the town for a man like him but there was little help to be had and Ford swore he would install a locating chip into Stanley’s hearing aids so he could find him in situations like this!

But find him he did: nearly too late as Stanley’s lips were already turning blue as he seemed to not realize the danger he was in. He was sitting on the edge of a outcropping of rocks, bare-feet dangling into the water and was more ice then not, as he chatted animabably with another old man sitting next to him doing similarly yet who seemed unaffected by the cold. Ford could only just see the hooves under the water but the duckweed in his hair was pretty obvious.

“Stanley!” Ford had called out, rushing forward to try and pull his brother away from the waters edge, only to startle the other man so badly that he transformed back into a horse right then and their, knocking Stanley from his perch as the Kelpie sprang away back into the water.

“I knew exactly what he was.” Stanley insisted much later that night as he sniffled in Ford’s hold. They were both bundled under the blankets at a local hotel as Ford had had to jump into the water to drag Stanley out.

It was also a small excuse for Ford to hold Stanley for an extended period of time but Stan would likely tease him if he admitted that so instead he leaned his head down to press a kiss to Stanley’s bare shoulder. Ford hadn’t brought a spare set of clothing when he had run from the boat and he wasn’t going to waste the time going all the way back to the boat on a Scottish winter dusk with a near frozen Stanley.

Besides, naked bodies were far better at spreading heat to one another.

“I just lost track of time.” Stanley went on with a huff, pressing back into Ford’s body at the kiss and Ford couldn’t help but wind his arms around him even tighter.

“You were in the freezing cold with your feet are in freezing water. That’s a little more than ‘losing track of time’” Ford mumbled against the back of Stanley’s neck. “How are your feet? Still numb?” He asked, truly worried that there might be something terribly wrong with them. He pushed his own feet forward between Stanley’s to check that they were warming up just in case Stan tried to lie.

“Their fine.” He insisted, shuffling back slightly to get more of Ford’s warmth. “Tingling.” He added when Ford pinched his side for the lie. “But they’ll be fine. I’ve been through worse.” The last part was mumbled against Stanley’s pillow and Ford let out a low sigh. Both he and Stanley had been through much worse he knew but neither of them had been quite so old.

“Alright Stanley.” Ford mumbled as he held him a little tighter. “But I’ll be keeping an eye on them just in case.”

————-

The next time Stanley fell into water Ford pushed him in.

Stanley came up sputtering and glaring as Ford smiled down at him from their boat.

“Welcome to the Mediterranean Sea!” He told Stanley happily as he reached down to help pull him up. “Better than falling into the Arctic or north seas right?”

He was pushed into the water himself for that but he figured it was probably worth it.

#stancest #stancest fanfiction #sfw

88 notes · View notes