#firmly grasp the Stanley

[autismcheese]

Literally obsessed with the thought of The Narrator being able to manifest physically, and so if Stanley misbehaves he can just

GET HIM

#tsp #tspud #the stanley parable #the stanley parable: ultra deluxe #the narrator #narrator tsp #stanley parable #stanarrator #tsp narrator #tspud stanley #firmly grasp the Stanley

[cherryjuiceblues]

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄

➯ HARRY IS IMMEASURABLY HAPPY AFTER HIS HISTORY-MAKING NIGHT AT THE BRITS (AND HORNY). ✰ brits!harry sexual content. creampie. minors dni. 𝑤𝑐 2.5k

The peak of his intoxication has passed, leaving him mellow and drowsy, but the warmth of his dopey, half-lidded smile is enough to keep her mind racing with overwhelming pride. They’ve not long arrived home – Harry was sure to wiggle around impatiently whilst Y/N locked the front door before clumsily joining their hands and tugging them both upstairs to bed. He had collapsed heavily on their sheets, his hair wildly sticking out in every direction; contrasted by the black tweed suit that hadn’t been disturbed an inch.

Y/N watches him from the dresser with her own tipsy gaze as she removes her jewellery, admiring the soft rising and falling of his back as his breathing regulates. She’s sure he’s seconds away from falling asleep – head swirling with happiness most people can only dream of feeling – but he sits up suddenly, seemingly hit by a new burst of energy as he pushes himself up and clambers his way over to Y/N, burying his nose into her neck and slurring his words.

“Love y’ so much,” sponging small kisses over her skin. Her hands reach up into Harry’s hair and scratch lightly, causing his body to melt even further into her own and they stand there for a while just swaying in each other’s arms, breathing in each other’s scent; not for the first time that night.

He’d been hugging everyone he could get his hands on, thanks to the well-deserved drinks in his system and Y/N had been giggling with Gemma all night at his public displays of affection – so happy to spread the love. It was only when Harry won his final award of the evening and started hanging off Stanley Tucci did they share even an ounce of shock, before laughing it off at Stanley’s enjoyable reaction.

“Is Stanley Tucci a better hugger than me?” Y/N speaks into his temple.

Harry only gives her neck a nibble before mumbling, “Stanley Tucci is a very beautiful man. But no one gives hugs like you do,” as he tightens his grip about her body, disrupting her footing slightly.

“Good.” Y/N hums, kissing the side of his head and leaving an ever-so-faint lipstick stain. “Gonna get my makeup off, okay?” she murmurs, much to Harry’s distaste, as he slides his hands down around her thighs and lifts them around his waist. “Woah, easy baby,” Y/N grips his shoulders in a panic, “Careful.” She brushes the strands of hair away from his eyes, delicate and soft.

“Would never drop you,” Harry promises, taking them to their en-suite; albeit at a slower pace than he would sober, but tender in his ministrations as he sits on the toilet seat lid with Y/N still firmly wrapped around and on his lap. She smiles down at him, hands still stroking his face, before reaching across to the sink to grab her makeup remover and cotton pads. Harry stays attentive whilst Y/N cleans her face, eyes never straying and fingers leaving continuous patterns on her skin.

Their movements are slow, as if time has been paused just for the night. And it may as well have been for nothing else mattered more than being in each other’s presence. Harry’s unzipping her, his large hands spread out on her back as her dress falls to the floor and she’s left only in a pair of underwear. She moves to work his jacket off his shoulders and get him down to the same level of undress as she is, quickly breaking their profound eye-contact to hang their clothes up. Harry doesn’t let her go anywhere without touching her, palms smoothing round to her hips as she swivels in his grasp and walks to their wardrobe. They walk together, Harry’s chin perched on top of Y/N’s head as she makes the attempt to stay tidy.

“I’m cold,” he kisses her shoulder, nudging impossibly further into her back.

“Get into bed,” Y/N encourages as she drapes the articles onto hangers.

“Not without you,” Harry shakes his head and his hair dances across her neck, tickling her skin.

“Baby, the bed is one foot away,” she places a hand over one of his on her hip, squeezing lightly in amusement.

“Shhh,” he slurs into her cheek, “just hurry up.” He kisses her jaw softly, trying his hardest to distract but to no avail. Y/N carries on with a small smile on her face, desperately wishing to close her eyes and melt back into him; the small huffs of air from his nose against her neck stirring the butterflies in her stomach.

When she turns around in his grip and pecks his lips briskly, murmuring a small “I’m done,” Harry opens his sleepy eyes, half on his way there but awake enough to bring her mouth back to his with a hand on the back of her head. He takes her bottom lip between his, replaying her gentle whine in his head as their oxygen mingles and her fingers dance along the butterfly on his stomach. Their lips part with a soft sound and Y/N tries to chase him but Harry pulls back with a lazy smile.

They climb into bed and Y/N insists Harry lie on top of her, “Want your weight,” she says, pushing at his back the best she can from her position. He doesn’t take much convincing as he buries his face once again in the crook of her neck. Y/N brings her legs up around his waist under the covers and they meld into one another, skin content to be united.

“Looked so beautiful tonight,” Y/N whispers, hands tugging at his hair gently to get him to lift his head. Harry shifts his forearms to rest either side of her head so he can look down at her.

“Yeah? You think so?” His words are soft, eyes shining as he drops his nose to hers in an eskimo kiss. Y/N nods, her own eyes welling up, causing Harry to frown slightly.

“What's wrong? Don’t cry, m’love,”

“You’re so pretty, Harry, and I’m so proud of you,” Y/N breathes, gazing up at him, eyes flitting around his face.

Harry grins, eyes crinkled and face flushed, “Tha’s why you’re tearful, baby?” She nods again, “I think you’re the prettiest girl in the world,”

“That’s what I wanted to say to you!” Y/N huffs, kicking his back gently with her heel.

“Wanted t’call me the prettiest girl?” He teases and she rolls her eyes.

“Thought you were tired, not fair to bully me like that,” Harry leans down to smush their lips together.

“S’dramatic,” he mumbles against her mouth. “And I am tired but—” Harry wiggles his hips, pressing into Y/N’s lower stomach.

Y/N pulls away from his lips, “You’re horny? Really?” pushing back up and relishing in his groan. 

“It’s a love boner, baby,” Harry whines, “Can I feel you? Just need t’feel you.” Y/N nods quickly, fingers buried in his hair. Their mouths meet again with a new pace yet still utterly tranquil in their own bubble. Harry splits Y/N’s mouth with his tongue, licking slowly against her own and she bucks up against him again, desperate to receive friction. His hands start at her jaw, one trailing down to squeeze her neck softly with the other stroking over her cheek.

The sound of their breathing is short and wanting as their lips slide together in complete contentment – Harry’s hands slide down further, thumbs brushing over Y/N’s nipples and she lets out a gasp, pushing her chest into his hands. Her legs tighten around his waist and Harry smiles into the kiss, pinching her nipples and adoring the way she reacts to his touch.

He knows it’s meant to be quick so they could get some sleep but Harry can’t resist teasing her and himself as he rocks against her, their thin underwear providing no sort of barrier between where they are both hot and aching. His cock nudges against her clit and his tip peeks over the waistband of his briefs which has Y/N reaching down, but Harry grabs her wrists and gathers them in one hand above her head.

“No touch, darlin’, just let me rub on you for a bit,” he breathes into her mouth that’s spit-slicked from his kisses. Y/N’s eyes flutter closed as Harry continues to thrust against her; almost agonisingly slowly but the pleasure is bubbling and she can feel how damp her underwear has become. She connects their lips again but finds her mouth hanging open more often than not as Harry licks into her and up towards the roof of her mouth before trailing down her cheek and her jaw, making his way to her ear.

“You feeling good, baby?” Y/N makes a frantic noise of agreement, “Yeah? You’re gonna come just from this for me, okay? And then I’ll fuck you t’sleep.” His voice is gravelly, tired – he’s had an eventful night and yet Y/N’s pleasure is still important enough to bypass his own needs, even though he knows she'll feel guilty in the morning and offer to suck him off all day. She’s moaning, all breathy and fragmented, hips moving with his as he fucks her over her underwear, his own briefs pushed down just enough to free him. 

Harry trails his hand, that’s not holding her wrists, down to her waistband (the sheet has long since fallen down his back, granting much better access to each other’s bodies) and pulls it to the side, revealing Y/N’s swollen centre. She’s slick, dripping down to her bum, and Harry lets out a guttural noise at the sight, grabbing her legs, one by one, from around him and pushing them into the bed. He places a hand at the apex of her thigh, holding her leg open as he continues to slide his dick through her pussy and over her clit – slipping it underneath the waistband of her underwear and letting it rest back over them both – the newfound skin contact eliciting moans from the both of them.

Y/N can feel her orgasm extending out, tingling through her entire body, “Harry,” she mewls, “I’m– Can I?”

He hums, “Can you what? Gotta say it, Y/N,” The pace stays the same, lazy and inebriated but their heartbeats are hammering, reaching for each other as Harry drops his chest to hers and lifts his thumb to her mouth, swiping across her bottom lip. Y/N opens for him, letting him tap against her tongue before resting it there.

“Can I come?” Harry smiles at her garbled words as she attempts to ask with her mouth full. “Please, Harry,” her eyes are wide and her pupils are dilated, begging him for release.

So when he lowers his mouth to her ear once again and whispers, “Go on, baby, you can come,” Y/N almost immediately lets go, and when she does her eyes scrunch shut and she’s whimpering around Harry’s thumb, feeling every stroke against her clit and loving his weight on her body.

“Good girl,” he kisses her cheek once, twice, three times. “My good girl,” continuing to rub her until she starts to jolt and squeak. Harry takes his hand from her mouth and smooths her hair down, gazing down at Y/N’s watery eyes with a fucked out expression of his own. He can really feel the exhaustion hitting him now, and he still needs to come so he pecks her lips softly, bringing her wrists down from above her head, before reaching down and wrapping a hand around himself.

The sound he makes has Y/N bucking her hips towards him, free hands happily situated in his hair, and Harry swipes a thumb over her clit cruelly. “You’re so greedy f’me,” he simpers as she bucks in surprise.

“Want you to come, Harry. Need to see you come,” Y/N begs (and who was he to deny her that?) which has him guiding himself into her steadily, her underwear still rucked to the side. He sighs into her mouth before connecting their lips, tongue searching for hers and heavy breaths escaping his nose. Y/N tightens her grip on his hair, pulling just the way she knows drives him crazy and he detaches from her mouth with a whine.

His hips falter when she praises him, “I’m so proud of you, Harry, you’re so good. I love you—”Words falling out in jumbles and his tummy is warm and tightening quickly as he maintains the pace he’d been so adamant about. Harry pushes her knees up and into the mattress, feeling every inch of her warmth as he squeezes in and out and drops his forehead to hers, noses bumping with every drive.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathes into Y/N’s mouth, face tingling when she leans up to smother her lips on the corner of his and across his cheek. His abdomen is clenching and he can feel every hair on his body standing up.

“Come inside me, baby, want it inside,” she kisses his cheek again and Harry turns his head to catch her mouth, moaning into her as his hips draw back and forth, slowing down even more.

“Fuck, g’na come,” he thrusts in quickly once, the reflex making them both gasp, before regaining the last of his composure. Harry’s eyes are barely open and he’s swirling in his besotted haze while Y/N watches him from underneath, his hair tickling her forehead. From this angle, she thinks he’s never looked better – paired with the way he looked all night she thinks he should be sculpted or painted in the depths of his pleasure. His jaw hangs and his eyebrows furrow, nose tinted pink and Y/N can tell he’s moments away from letting go as his breaths come out shorter and a few whimpers escape his lips.

“Please, Harry, wanna feel it in me,” she whispers and he keens. “Need you to fill me up.” And he’s stuttering inside her once again as his orgasm takes over, his noises making Y/N’s heart race as he empties himself inside of her, the warmth seeping into their bones. 

“Shit,” Harry breathes, dropping back down to Y/N’s chest, still snug inside of her.

“Thank you,” she kisses the side of his face and he lifts his head up to look at her. “I was supposed to make you feel good tonight.”

Harry only laughs, rolling his eyes, “Did you not notice how good you made me feel?” giving an experimental shift inside of her and smiling when she gasps.

“Gotta push my come out, love,” he reluctantly pushes himself up onto his knees, sitting Y/N up with him as he slowly pulls out, her underwear gravitating back over her. Harry’s quick to pull them off her legs and hold them up to where his release has started to drip out. She whimpers slightly at the sight, bending over her waist to get a better view.

He swears he loves her even more in that moment, watching her love the way his come trickles out of her. “You’re filthy.” He pecks her forehead, wiping her down gently and she puckers her lips at him, looking for a kiss. Harry complies, sponging their mouths together a few times before throwing her underwear near the wash basket and tucking himself back into his own.

“You gonna pee?” He asks and she groans, falling back against the pillows.

“Don’t wanna get up, it’s time t’sleep,” Y/N whines, grabbing at the sheets to pull them up around herself. But Harry is having none of it, hovering himself over her and batting the covers away. He only needs to give her a look before she’s ducking under his arms and trudging to their bathroom. The alcohol in Harry’s system is still whirling around and he feels on the edge of sleep as soon as his head hits the pillows, a content smile gracing his face, holding on just long enough for Y/N to climb back in next to him and drape her arm over his chest.

Their breathing syncs up as they drift off and just before they both succumb, Y/N mumbles, “Love you,” to which Harry replies:

“So much.” And she nestles in further, feeling his arm wrap tightly around her shoulder, and he is so glad to be home.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #the brits #harry styles brits #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #dom!harry #domrry #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #fanfic #writing #brits 2023

[usimp4women]

You Deserve It.

Pairing; Soft!Dark! Lady Lesso (Dean of The School for Evil) X Reader

WordCount; 1445 words, 8418 characters.

Warnings; Degrading kink, Jealousy, Slight NSFW, Mentions of adult content, and brief murder, but NO smut, unfortunately.

Summary; You decided to conduct an experiment to test the Dean's patience after pushing you away.

Note; Are you prepared for what's about to come up? I created this with some inspiration from The Stanley Parable. I trust you all enjoy a Dark! Lady Lesso as much as I do.

+++++

You've been in a relationship with the intimidating redhead for quite a while, and although it was all very engaging, things are beginning to spiral out of control.

The woman was receiving a massive amount of paperwork, while you were begging her to take an extended break since it was already the middle of the night, and you couldn't fall asleep without her laying beside you.

However, the Dean only shrugged dismissively, and gave you strict orders not to interrupt her while she was working.

She seemed a tad bit guilty, but she knew better and intended to complete all those documentation by tomorrow. You weren't used to how she would become so immersed in her occupation that she'd grow unaware of her surroundings.

Because of her position, the woman occasionally neglected to take care of herself. She obviously didn't even realize that you've been ignored by her for the whole day, which absolutely upsets you beyond belief.

You paused for a moment while standing anxiously behind the office door to consider your actions. As your fist finally came in contact with the door to knock upon it, you exhaled.

After repeatedly knocking twice, you heard a subtle, delicate voice saying, "Come in." as you twisted the doorknob, and slid through.

Once you entered the workplace, you began to wander around the scene. You heaved another long breath, shook your head, and proceeded slowly in the direction of the Dean, who’s been eminently preoccupied with her paperwork.

"Is something wrong, darling?" She doesn't peer up to you, waiting for your appropriate response.

"Aren't you done yet?"

"Not at all."

"How more will it take?"

"Why do you care?"

...

You certainly didn't expect that.

You whispered, apprehensive goosebumps flowing through your spine, “Could you just consider joining me in bed, please? You know I don't like sleeping alone, and it's already past two in the morning, you ought to be asleep by now." Lesso takes a moment before angling her chin straight toward you.

"I can't; I need to accomplish my pile of fillings before daylight. Try to understand, I don't have time for that."

You remained there for a while, considering alternative approaches to persuade her so that she wouldn't develop periorbital dark circles underneath her eyes the following day.

You calmly extended your hand to grasp her arm, murmuring. "I beg you." she glances at you with a deep breath and arose from her chair.

"Only for you, princess."

—

It's still the proceeding day, and somehow, you woke up at 6 AM in the morning. You became aware that there was a certain missing figure in the vicinity of where you were lying in bed.

"Aren't her lessons supposed to start at 11 AM?" You mumbled in questioning.

You grumbled in exasperation as you rolled your eyes.

You got up, rapidly speed-walking towards the woman's office. Quickly observing how her eyes entirely widen as soon as she noticed your distressing condition in front of her office.

"My love, allow me to explain—"

"No, there's no need. I simply wanted to make sure whether you were okay." You lied, slamming the door shut behind you while firmly grasping the door knob.

You didn't appreciate how she had this effect on you. You, yourself attempted to comprehend her duty but you just can't help yourself. You simply didn't enjoy being neglected.

Fine, "Two can play that game."

You settled to form a tiny, ‘uncomplicated’ experiment in order to test out the lady’s tolerance.

You would really like to find out, and examine how she would react if the roles are reversed, so you intend to ignore her throughout the day.

Sincerely, I believe you'd already assumed how she would behave, but you still desire to find out exactly, all right?

You proceed to develop and discuss your busy schedules, engaging in significantly more effort than your ordinary routine. You grinned to yourself, although you did contemplate whether perhaps you were going way too far off the track..

But besides, it's only good for today, so I'm positive it won't impact an effect, you thought.

You began with meal preparation, donning an apron, and gathering the necessary ingredients.

It had already been midway through cooking the morning meal until you felt confident, authoritative arms slithering their way around your waistline. You felt her planting her chin on your shoulder with a hum.

You instinctively reddened at the unexpected interaction. You could scent her alluring fragrance, but you maintained your ground considering that you were still performing your test run.

She tilts her head so her mouth is right next to your ear, whispering, "Now, now. Don't be frantic, beloved." Her breath brushed across your skin, causing your throat to instantly hitch and your back to be slightly arched.

Lesso only snickered seductively, mindfully recognizing how her power engulfs your soul.

As you hastily withdrew from her hold, you applied the last finishing touch to her dish. You quickly settled her meal on the dining room table, then made your way to the main hall.

"Uh, uh, you're not going anywhere, princess."

She catches a grasp of your wrist with her fingers and begins pulling you back towards the place she was situated at the dining table, forcing you to submit and sit obediently on her lap.

Oh, god. You had no idea the gag would be this difficult, you thought.

She continues to eat her breakfast, while you attempt and struggle to wriggle loose of her hold. You realized this was not intended to happen.

The woman's secure upon you was much more formidable than you could have ever anticipated; it merely shoved you down onto her lap, and you were on the point of surrendering your persona, but you were stubborn, and simply couldn't.

So you just let her keep you closely against her lap. You would scowl and divert your eyes away from anything but her whilst she devours.

You writhed in hopeless protest, as she chewed her food in silence. She solely shrugged, not bothering to acknowledge.

—

You eventually stood once she finished eating and hastily stepped away from her lap—

"Where are you going?"

"Uhm— to, you know, meet Hort."

She cast a threatening glare your way. "Hort? Why would you meet up with him?" You frowned, but knowing perfectly well how it would make her furious.

"Aren't you fed up with your paperwork? You don't dictate what I do, Lesso. Just go and have a date with your dumb career and stay out of my way."

"Whatever do you mean? I value my position, I enlighten my students, and I educate them—"

"Indeed, training them in being evil and villainous."

“Reader, don't start with me."

"I act as I please."

The woman arose from her seat and walked towards you at full speed. In shock and terror, you primarily backed yourself up until your body was wedged between the wall and the Dean's appealing body. She entraps you by slamming her palm on the side of your head, her fingers on your exposed waist.

“You wanna know why I've been so drained of energy lately? I yearn for your touch. I desire you, more and more with every passing minute goes by. You.. burned my heart, but I still won't give up on you, doll.”

"You want to do me wrong, Professor? I won't let you."

She chuckles amusingly at your response, locking your wrists together over your head with one hand. “You genuinely think you have the higher ground, do you? You believe Hort pleases your body the same way I do? Tell me this, princess. Does he fuck you like I do?”

"Lesso.."

"Shh, Shh, Shh."

She inserts her knee between your legs and glides it up sensually, in close proximity to your private area.

"How pathetic, and helpless you truly are before me.

I mean look at you, buckling your knees, and giving your attention all to me. This is power, sweetheart.

I am immune to the results of your foolish, mischievous acts because I am far more knowledgeable than you can ever comprehend.” She elevates your chin up with ease by stroking her index finger from your waist to your jawline with less effort.

"Do you have any idea of what your purpose in this place is?" She wickedly laughs uncontrollably.

“Darling…

You're in for quite a disappointment.

You're only still staying here with me instead of leaving because I wanna watch you for every moment that you're powerless.

To see you made humble.

This is not a challenge, it's a tragedy.

You wanted to go and visit Hort? That's fine.

But I'm going to kill him first,

So.

You.

Can't."

#lady lesso x reader #lady lesso #dean of the school for evil #the school for good and evil #lady leonora lesso #leonora lesso #charlize theron

[cellythefloshie]

;; A Seasons End Chapter One of Cool for the Summer

Table of Contents Playlist «« 🤍 »» Chapter Two

Summary: The Carolina Hurricane's season comes to an unexpected end as the New York Rangers move on to the Eastern Conference Finals and when star forward Andrei Svechnikov cannot return home for the offseason he is left to determine where exactly he will be spending his summer. TW: Mentions of the international conflict between Russia and Ukraine. Word Count: 1k+

Game 7. It was the final game played in the series that would send the Carolina Hurricanes to the Eastern Conference Finals for the second time since Andrei Svechnikov was drafted in 2018. It was a game that the team should have laid it out on the line - his only contribution? A 2-minute penalty for tripping against Barclay Goodrow. And while the Hurricanes killed the penalty, the Rangers went on to win the series in a winner-takes-all game. The score was 2-6, a complete and utter blowout of a game in the series after 6 games with nothing more than a 3-goal differential. 

It left a sour taste in the back of his mouth as he walked back into the locker room with his head hanging low on his shoulders. Andrei didn’t look up, not once, as he stripped off his gear for the last time that season. He didn’t hear the last, tired speech given by Rob as he commended the team for their season. Nor did he hear the murmurs between his teammates as they shared brief sentiments on their way out the door. One by one, they left him until he was the only one to remain. 

Andrei sat in the silence, his head in his calloused palms as a heavy breath trembled through him. For the first time in months, he could feel the ach of his tired body, and it brewed with his disappointment that his season was over. There was nothing to look forward to now except 3 things: Exit interviews, training to be better come the next season and going home. 

It had taken the Hurricanes organization 6 days to close out their exit interviews. One by one, they face management and the media, all singing the same tune. This was not how they wanted their season to end. They wanted to be the ones to face the Tampa Bay Lightning in the Eastern Conference Final. They wanted to go on to play the champions of the West for the Stanley Cup, but they came up short. Every one of them expressed their own shortcomings and held themselves accountable, including Andrei. It was his fourth playoff appearance, but it had been the first time injuries hadn’t kept him from playing every game. Yet, he failed to bring his regular-season success into the postseason with him. So he did the only thing he could do, promise that he would come back next season and be better and with that, he was free to leave. 

With his bag packed, Andrei was ready to leave the city of Raleigh behind him. He couldn’t wait to return home, to see his family and to train with his brother, but the vibration of his phone in his pocket against his hip was insistent. It had been buzzing there all morning, through each of his interviews, and it had grown more frequent the more he ignored it. It must be important. 

Pausing out in the parking lot, Andrei eased two fingers into his pocket and pressed them firmly to his phone screen. With the pressure, he guided the phone from his pocket and into his grasp. It continued to vibrate with urgency even as he held it, and when he saw just who the messages were from, he was left sighing. It was his mother. 

There was no one Andrei loved more than his mother, but he didn’t like what she had to say. Ever since the end of game 7, she had been messaging him to tell him one thing: Do not go home, Andrei. It was the last thing he had wanted to hear, even if it was the reality of it all. With Russia’s military advancement in Ukraine, they had fallen under heavy scrutiny. Travel into the country was heavily restricted - even if he could book a flight to a nearby country with the intention of making the drive home there - there was no telling if he could return to America come the beginning of the next season. And so, he would heed his mother’s cautious warning. He would not go home to Russia, but where would he go?

The clamour of the door opening and closing shut behind him broke Andrei’s attention from his phone screen, and from his bag that he had dropped down to his feet. Behind him, rookie Seth Jarvis had ended his season by walking out the doors. However, one could argue it had ended the moment he had taken a bad hit from Trouba after playing nothing more than two minutes in what would be their final game of the season. The kid had been concussed so badly that he was still feeling the after-effects of the hit seven days later - and yet he was still wearing a smile as his dark eyes had come to find Andrei in the parking lot. 

“You got a ride coming?” Andrei spoke slowly, his hand raising up to block the sun from his eyes as he called out for his teammate. There was no way he was driving when his head was in such a state. 

“Taxi,” Seth answered simply, carefully struggling his shoulders as he tossed a single bag over it. 

“No, no, my car. Get in,” Andrei pointed back with his thumb back towards his sports car that was parked in the lot. It wasn’t the most practical of things when you were trying to lug your equipment around, but Andrei loved the exhilaration and sex appeal of a fast car. 

“You sure?” Seth perked up in place, but it didn’t take much more than a wave before the rookie was falling into stride. 

The hollow shut of the door had Andrei melting into his seat, his head leaning back against the leather seat as he let out a sigh. “Home?” “Airport,” Seth corrected, his tone jovial. 

Andrei’s heart panged with jealousy. The kid was getting to fly off, while he was still unsure of where his summer would take him. “Big vacation?”

Andrei did his best to keep the casual conversation as he began the drive and listened to Seth as he talked about going home to Winnipeg to spend the summer with his parents. But his envy was clearly written all across his features as his face fell into a frown he couldn’t contain, and Seth noticed. 

“You don’t get to go home, do you?” Seth spoke slowly, his tone a little more concerned than a guy would have liked to let on. But the whole world knew of the conflict and the strain it was putting on the players from those regions. 

“No,” Andrei spoke bluntly, his gaze cast out the driver’s side window. It was the last thing he wanted to talk about. 

“I’m sorry man-” Seth sighed out, but then he was jolting in his seat. An idea had struck him like a bolt of lightning. “Your brother, he plays in Winnipeg!” He was almost laughing, as if he had just come up with the most brilliant solution to Andrei’s problems. “Catch the flight with me, hell, you can stay with me, if you want, and spend the summer in Winnipeg with your family.”

Andrei eased his foot onto the brake as he came to a red light, his head turning to look at Jarvis as he was beaming from the passenger’s side. He was right. Evgeny played for Winnipeg - and while he was at the end of his contract, he and his girlfriend were more than likely stuck in a very similar situation as himself. 

As the light went green, Andrei’s foot remained on the brakes, causing a symphony of honking behind him, but he was in no rush. Not when his plans were so quickly changing. “In Winnipeg, I can train?” Andrei spoke slowly. 

“Train, travel, whatever you want. It’s a great city, really.”

But Andrei had already heard everything he needed to hear, his foot easing off the brake and turning toward his apartment. They would make one quick stop before the airport. He needed to pick up his bags. In the small Canadian city, he would have no distractions beyond those he would allow: Seth and his family. Then, she could focus on doing the one thing that had been on his mind since the final seconds of game 7 against the New York Rangers. He could train and become the player the team needed him to be, even if that meant having to spend the summer in Winnipeg. 

Taglist: @starshine-hockey-girl , @wingedwheelprxncess , @mp0625 , @misunderstoodwerewolf , @callsign-denmark , @puckmaidens , @xciciix , @cixrosie

#andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov x original character #hockey rpf #hockey romance #hockey imagines #nhl rpf #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #andrei svechnikov fanfiction #;; cool for the sumer #;; { I don't know when the next chapter will be out but I need to clear up my drafts } #;; { and get this chapter posted so I can count it towards my 2023 word count LOL }

[rolex-kaard]

grasp the stanley firmly

(ID in alt text)

#tsp #tsp stanley #the stanley parable #kaart tag

[stanleysbuttonblog]

The Narrator reached into Stanley’s body.

He grasped a thread, a wire. A core component of his code, a fragment of a part of what was Stanley. It was him, nonetheless, but his hands did not tremble as he took his love apart.

He could not shake now. He was restoring. He was healing. He had to be stable.

He pulled it out.

The thread floated in the air, and the Narrator looked at his work, reached in to check, and confirmed what he suspected.

That was the chest done. Now onto the arms.

He takes Stanley’s flannel and removes it fully from the man’s body. 

Arms exposed.

Left first, he thinks. 

He reached in.

The threads have no meaning on their own. Like a pot inscribed with a poem in a cursive script, and then shattered into shards. All of them are so individual as to be meaningless.

He tugged a thread out.

It feels painful, drawing out these threads, even though it is not harming the Narrator himself.

He reached in.

Running his hand through Stanley’s insides, he knew that he could grasp harder, harsher.

He drew a thread out.

He could rip through his form. He could destroy Stanley, from the inside out. It wouldn’t even take that much effort.

He reached in.

The Narrator is delicate. He will not harm Stanley.

He pulled a thread out.

He will see this to the end.

***

The entirety of Stanley’s upper body is done by the middle of the second day.

He sighed and breathed out.

That had been a long burst with no breaks, and he knew that he had to stop soon. But he didn’t want to. But he really, really, should.

He stood up tensely off of the bed and scrawled out a note to the showrunner, and then went out to slip it under her door.

He sighed, returned to Stanley’s room, and sat down in an armchair. Checked his watch, and gave himself an hour to rest.

Then he’d get back to work.

***

About 15 minutes later, there was a knock on the door. 

"Come in!" The Narrator called.

A pause. Then the door handle turned hesitantly. The door opened slowly. In stepped the Showrunner, in her black cloak and hot pink heels. She was holding the note.

“Hello, Narrator.”

"Showrunner." he said with a bit of a sigh, glancing from her back to Stanley.

She stared at Stanley through the many, many wires. After a moment, she said quietly, “Is he like a circuit board or a tapestry?”

"What do you mean?" he asked. "He's Stanley. What would make him like either of those things?"

“The threads,” She said quietly, “or wires, depending.”

"I mean what qualities. As in– yes, he has those threads. But what about a tapestry are you concerned he is like?"

“It’s not concern,” she stared at Stanley, “Well, I mean, I am concerned. I just.” she tilted her head, then shook it, “Nevermind, I suppose.”

"I'm confused, not– you can go on." The Narrator said, straightening up a bit.

“Just a question, I suppose. I’m fairly familiar with both.” She looked at the threads. “Is everything… okay?”

“This is actually going rather well.” the Narrator said with a bit of a sigh, pinching his brow and pushing his glasses up. “The– the process is meant to pull out the threads. I suspect I’ll be able to finish drawing the whole of them out by the end of tomorrow.”

She crossed her arms, hugging herself slightly, “I see.”

“Is– you look concerned. Is there something I can do to help you in that regard?”

She looked at him sort of sideways, but shook her head. “Same as always. I’ll be fine. I’m more worried about Stanley right now.”

“He’s okay.” the Narrator said firmly. “He’s alright. Or he will be. This is a process. He’s still all there, just… disassembled a bit.”

She nodded, looking at her hand, “Disassembled.”

“Yes. That– that is what I’m doing here. Pulling out his– ah– innards– and then giving them a bit of a clean, fixing any stray parts, touching up a few threads that have degraded… and then putting him back together. And then he’s good!”

“I see.” She paused, “I see.”

The Narrator nodded, sighed and then got up from the chair. He summoned a loose-fitting dress and pulled it on over his bikini, and then conjured a small notepad, which he began to tentatively write in.

The Showrunner looked over at him curiously.

He looked up at her, and continued scrawling out his ideas in cursive, making sure to keep the notepad close to his chest.

The Showrunner turned her attention back to Stanley, staring at the threads. 

The Narrator looked between her, and then Stanley, and then sighed.

“Do you have a question? Or rather, what is your question– I can clearly see you’re wondering something.”

She stared at her hand. “I-” She paused, looking up at the ceiling, then back at her hand, “I don’t know. I’m reminded of a number of things. None of them are really relevant.”

“You can still ask.” the Narrator said with a sigh. “Having a conversation would be… nice. I’m taking a bit of a break anyway.”

“Are you familiar with classical mythology?”

“Most of the well-known stuff, yes.”

“I- I’m reminded of the golden fleece. I- I never met Jason, I’m afraid that was quite a bit after my time, but I’ve heard stories of it.” She stared at the threads, opened her mouth to say something, but didn’t continue.

“I– ah, yes. A healing fleece, made of golden wool. I suppose they would bear visual similarities.”

She nodded, “I’m also reminded of Rumplestiltskin, and Ariadne’s thread from Crete.” She paused, “Not relevant, but. You get it.”

“Yes, yes. Golden threads, and all. Well, his threads are golden– well, technically, it’s more yellow than gold– because I made him. And that’s my color.”

He saw her stiffen slightly. She withdrew her hand back into her cloak.

“It’s just… it’s what I work with. Hell, even this body is like that on the inside.”

She nodded, then hugged herself a little tighter.

“I, uh– I’m sorry, that’s probably not something you want to hear. I– it’s just a material, really, it’s… it’s his code made physical so I can better sort through it. I– I could show you mine? No, that’d probably just disturb you more…”

He sighed and pinched his brow.

“I-it’s not about-” She looked at the ground, “It’s-” she shook her head, “I don’t normally think about the logistics of being created. I don’t- day to day-” She tensed, “I don’t think of the fact that I was designed-” She sounded disgusted, “I- augh-” She clenched and unclenched her fists.

“I– if it helps, I– I mean, I don’t know much about your origins. But it’s… it’s just like organs and bones, really. All that… internal bits-and-bobs that keep you running. I highly doubt Stanley normally thinks of it either– this is an abnormal situation.”

She looked over at him, clearly distressed. “Y-yeah.” She looked back at Stanley, then quickly looked away, settling on the floor and then her tablet.

“If there’s– if there’s something I can do to help you out here, just… let me know. What I’m doing with Stanley is being done with the utmost care. He is going to be safe.”

She nodded, “I- I know. I’m fine. Thi-” She cringed, “This is normal. I’m fine. I’m totally fine.”

“You look distressed.” he said plainly. “And again, this whole business with Stanley is abnormal. I’m only handling it this well because I’m a higher being. Oh, and I had around a week or so to come to terms with the situation inside the snowglobe. It’d– if you were upset, that would be appropriate.”

She gave him a sort of look. Then she looked at the opposite wall, “I’m fine,” She said, her voice more steady.

“Right then.” the Narrator muttered, pulling out his notebook and continuing on with his writing for the time being.

She said nothing for a while, staring at her tablet, and eventually said, “I’m- I need to go do something.”

“Alright.” the Narrator called over tiredly, and then sighed, checking his watch. 20 more minutes.

“I-” She looked at him, “I know what it’s like to overwork yourself. I know you’re currently taking a break, but- yeah. Remember to pace yourself. I once ruined a tapestry because I was over-tired and got distracted.” 

“That’s not a problem for me.” the Narrator said, a bit defensively. “I– I have the energy to do this. Physically speaking, I can. I– I’m not mortal. I can fix him. I don’t get… distracted. Not like that. Not when it’s him. Yes, I might feel a bit… tired… but that doesn’t mean I’m going to mess up.”

She took a step back away from the bed, and said, “You’re prideful. I get it. But still. Take care, Narrator.” She turned to leave.

“Okay.” the Narrator muttered. “You as well, Showrunner.”

20 minutes later, he was back to work.

He was going to do this. Every moment he spent waiting– resting, like some kind of mortal– was one that Stanley didn’t get to live.

And he needed Stanley to be well.

He undid Stanley’s trousers, reached in to his calf, and grasped a thread.

***

By the night of the third day, all of the threads were out.

They floated in the air easily, and the Narrator heaved a sigh of relief as he reached in, felt around, and had no more threads to pull.

He groaned and laid down on the bed next to Stanley, tenderly holding the side of his body and idly touching one of the threads, gently twisting it in his fingers.

He looked at the watch, and with a groan of resignation, conjured a second bed adjacent to Stanley’s. 

He laid down, and promptly shut off all of his senses, and set them to reactivate 10 hours later.

He had earned this. He needed this.

The Showrunner had even encouraged it.

He slept.

***

On the fourth day– and as a movie played that the Narrator, frustratingly, had not been invited to– he sorted through the threads.

Quite a number of them were alright. The Narrator still had to inspect them, though– and he did decide to dust them all off, getting rid of any natural grime that had built up– but a number of them were intact.

Those, the Narrator recorded. He marked the thread (in Stanley’s files) with a tag confirming that it had been properly inspected and reinserted.

By the end of the fourth day, the Narrator estimated that he’d gotten about half of the uncorrupted threads sorted. Good. He’d have to put them back in those same specific clusters that he’d pulled them out, so he couldn’t just put them back in, but he was able to make them mostly intangible, so that they could only be seen if you were really looking for them.

He sighed, and continued sorting through the night.

***

By the late morning of the fifth day, all of the threads had been categorized. The ones that were healthy had been made intangible and largely invisible, and by the Narrator’s estimation, there were only around 140 corrupted threads.

That wasn’t so bad. Still… bad. But not… impossible.

He sighed, and began looking over the first one.

22 cords later, and it was mid-afternoon.

He sighed, and pinched his brow. Fuck, this was difficult.

A knock on the door.

“Come in!” the Narrator called hastily, brushing himself off and quickly cleaning his dress as best he could with some minor conjuration.

A moment passed, and the door opened. The Showrunner stepped inside hesitantly. Her cloak was… covered in dirt and bits of grass. Sure, it looked like she’d shaken it off, but…? 

Oh. 

And Him.

The Narrator scowled somewhat, and got down from the bed, approaching the two of them.

“Hello.” he said tersely. Firmly. This wasn’t exactly his domain– it was still Stanley’s room, and it was still in the Showrunner’s forcefield– but it was his… zone. He was doing work here. He had something to defend here.

“Hello, Narrator.” A moment passed, and she looked up at Xigbar, who was also covered in dirt and grass?

"... Weren't kidding about the spaghettification." Xigbar glanced around the room.

The Narrator stiffened, bit his tongue, and said nothing.

She shot Xigbar a look, “One, that’s not what I said, Two, behave.”

"What? I am behaving. I barely even said anything."

He couldn’t see the look on her face, but he was sure there was one. Then she turned to the Narrator, keeping her head tilted down, and said, “How- How is the progress?” The silent question was ‘Is Stanley still Okay?’

“Well, I’ve sorted out which ones are… alright. All… I believe it was 4,135… of them. Gave some of them a bit of a touchup, you know, seeing as I already had it exposed. And today I’ve managed to get through 22 of the… injured ones.”

“I see. And how many injured ones are there?” She tilted her head under the cloak.

“Oh, uh.. Around 140? I think. I– haven’t kept as much track. But he’s got… around 4,270 normally. Give or take seven or so? So… somewhere from 133 to 142. Yeah.”

“I see.” She stared at Stanley.

"So. When you're done with the whole…" He twirled his hand to gesture at Stanley. "Spaghetti thing,” (she shot him another look) “Is he gonna be more like he was in person, or on tumblr? Because the tumblr Stanley is actually almost cool."

“I don’t quite know what you mean by that… uh, he had a tumblr?” "Riiiiiiight. You were in the snowglobe." Xigbar gave him some sort of look. It was hard to decipher, but… It was certainly cold. "Almost forgot."

“Just– he– what sort of differences in personality are you talking about?” he said sharply.

“Well-” She said, “I was in BFD fearing for my life for most of it, but from what I was able to overhear,” She looked at Xigbar, then at Stanley, “They were almost getting along. He was more……. More. I think because the will issues can’t be triggered online. Less fearful, more stubborn. From what I understand, that’s closer to his normal.”

“Yes, he– he’s normally quite willful. I– I saw a bit of what he was like when he was… being influenced. That… ah, could you describe that in a… bit more depth? Just so I can… fully understand the situation going on here.”

She looked at Xigbar.

"Is boring an option?" 

“What the fuck Xigbar?” The Showrunner bapped him on the arm.

"What? He wasn't even that much fun to mess with. 'S why I stopped."

The Narrator stared at Xigbar, closed his eyes, and conjured a computer to hit him on the head. About 2 feet up. Heavy one, too.

The Showrunner looked at it in horror, and right as it started falling she summoned some kind of weapon- a pink, black and white one, and shoved it out of the way. It crashed onto the floor beside him.

“What the fuck, Narrator?!” If she sounded annoyed at Xigbar, she was furious at him.

“He insulted– you– you messed with him. You can’t just– do that shit. I–” 

“We’ve had this talk, Narrator,” The Showrunner said coldly, “And if we hadn’t, you agreed not to use your powers against Xigbar and I.”

“He was mean to Stanley! So I dropped a computer on him. It’s a fair exchange.”

‘It’s not,” She said, pushing Xigbar back a few feet with her weapon and standing in front of him, “You could hurt him. And besides. You agreed not to use your powers against Xigbar and I.”

“Fine.” The Narrator said, turning back around and heading back to Stanley.

He heard her turn to face Xigbar, “And that was uncalled for.”

"Why would you want me to say anything, then. It's pretty obvious I don't like Stanley all that much, and I definitely don't fuckin' like this guy. Doesn't even have a cool bikini."

The Narrator idly muttered to himself, careful to keep it to a tone where he wouldn’t fucking be heard.

He heard her turn away from Xigbar.

The Narrator pointedly did not look up, opting instead to begin inspecting the 23rd thread. This one was severely frayed. Wonderful, that.

The Showrunner said, “In my experience, Stanley with will issues was- he was confused. Hurting. This was before I knew about the will issues.”

“Don’t call them issues.” the Narrator muttered. “It’s more than an issue, it’s corruption. A disability. That’s not just some issue, Showrunner.”

“I of all people know that, Narrator. Don’t correct me on the subject of will.”

“I’m sure you do.” he said quietly. “But you don’t know him.”

He heard a sharp breath. Then, “I- I’ll be back in an hour or so, Narrator. Bye for now. Xigbar, we’re leaving.”

The Narrator gave a short nod to the both of them, and then turned his attention back to the thread. He heard the door close behind him.

Severely frayed. Alright, that meant he had to re-bind the slivers. He could do that. He could.

An hour passed, and 7 more threads were dealt with.

A brisk knock sounded on the door.

“Yes, come in.” The Narrator called over.

The door opened and the Showrunner reentered the room. She closed the door behind her.

“Hello, Narrator.”

“Hello.” he said, with as much bland neutrality as he could manage.

“I apologize for Xigbar’s behavior earlier. That was uncalled for.” She said evenly but genuinely.

“Oh.” he said. He thought for a moment. “Uhm. Thank you. I– I appreciate that. And I…”

He sighed, and then with some stiffness and disgruntlement, continued, “I also… apologize. I was aggressive, and I… should not have done that. Sorry.”

She nodded, “It’s easy to forget in the heat of the moment. And I understand the Parable plays by different rules, regarding injuries.” She looked at her nails.

“Yes, it– yes. I–” the Narrator bit his tongue. “I’ll uphold my deal from now on. No harm is going to… I won’t hurt any other person here. I can do that.”

Inwardly, he knew that he could. He could. It would take self control, it would take precision, but the Narrator could handle that. He would. This was a test, and one the Narrator could win. Yes. That was a reasonable expectation.

“Thank you,” She said. “Now, how is Stanley? Or, do you have any more questions on how he was behaving?”

“I think– I’m still curious about that, but I think that’s a discussion to be had later. He’s… well, he’s as disassembled as he has been. I’ve gotten seven more threads cleaned up since you were last here– those ones were all less harshly damaged. I, uh. I expect he’ll be done two or three days from now. Is that… enough information?” he said, squinting somewhat as he looked at her. 

She nodded slightly, bringing her arm back into her cloak. 

“Okay.” he said, sighing somewhat and reaching for another thread. Eugh. This one was slimy, with some sort of… corruptive, moldy gunk. Ugh, this one will be… difficult.

“Oh. Yikes,” She said, looking at it.

“Yes.” he muttered, running his hand through the– he was going to think of it as mold, that was easier on his mind. He pulled off as much as he could, letting it float in a small ball off to the side, and then began to go through the rest of the thread with more precision, taking off the entirety of the remaining mold.

She watched him as he worked, seemingly lost in thought.

He finished pulling off the gray-green sludge, and then took a deep breath, and stuck his whole hand into the collected mass. It wasn’t much, but god, the texture was unsettling. He worked it through his fingers, gently kneading it, and closed his eyes to better focus as he pressed his energy into repairing it.

When he removed his hand, The Showrunner said, “That looked very texture.”

The Narrator opened his eyes, grimaced, and checked the color. Good, good it was working. Now it was much closer to a yellowish mud.

“Yes, well, it’s still him.” the Narrator muttered, sticking his hand in again and splaying his fingers to spread it out and further smooth out the bits of damaged code within. “It’s– it’s not something I can discard.”

“I know.” She said. 

The Narrator nodded, kneaded the goop one more time, and then carefully began to spread the now-golden sludge back onto the thread it came from, working it into the crevices of the wire and smoothing it such that it became one whole fragment again.

The Showrunner said quietly, “I’m reminded of clay.”

“I suppose.” the Narrator murmured, “Yes, I suppose that’s an apt comparison. At least for threads like that.”

“I…” she shook her head, “Nevermind.”

“I mean, these are just… physical manifestations of an abstract concept so I can better work through the absolute mess that’s been made of his code with precision– and with a reasonable sort of efficiency.” The Narrator stated blandly. “It’s– I could just as easily have it appear another way. Or, well, I could’ve. I think. I’m not actually sure, given that you’re the authority here… hmm.”

She nodded.

“I– do you have a question?”

“Not really. Just- I- I’m reminded of other forms of handicraft I’ve seen previously.” She waved her hand sort of dismissively. Towards herself, not the Narrator. 

“Oh, yes. You said you’d made tapestries before, didn’t you?” the Narrator murmured idly, as he pulled over another thread and inspected it. Hmm. Holes. That was… going to require a good bit of energy. And perhaps a cross-check with some older files, for good measure.

She tilted her head slightly, then nodded. He got the sense that wasn’t what she was talking about, though.

“...right.” the Narrator said, and turned back to Stanley’s threads. Hmmm.

He pulled up a visual reference for a backup he’d made… about 5 months ago? It showed enough of the general construction pattern that it would be able to help repair this one. Ugh, holes– that was bad.

“I- I’ve spun thread before, too. I- I know these threads are just a manifestation, but I know it’s harder than it looks to clean them.”

“Oh. Uh, thank you. Do you– I’m sorry, do you– want to– I mean, you can touch them, if you think you’d… have some way to help. Just. Be incredibly careful. And if you start to do something that will hurt him I will. Teleport you away.”

She folded her hands behind her back, “I’m- I’m not going to do anything while Stanley’s asleep. It’s not-” She paused, wincing, “I won’t. I’m only saying, you’re making good progress. I know how tedious work similar to this- at least, visually similar- can be.”

The Narrator blinked. Processed her words, and then… smiled.

“Thank you.” he said, sighing a bit and letting go of the thread he was holding. “I– that’s quite nice to hear, Showrunner. I– this is a lot to deal with. It’s hard work, and it’s… it’s on Stanley, and the fact that this has happened to him at all is of course greatly upsetting, and– I appreciate that. You– you can touch the undamaged threads, just fine, if you want to, though. Those are well secured. And you’re his friend, so.”

She tilted her head appreciatively, but said, “No thank you, Narrator.”

“Very well.” he said, nodding as well, and then sighing, rubbing his eyes somewhat. “I, uh. Do let Xigbar know that I am. Regretful. I don’t particularly want to speak to him in person, but I… still think he ought to know that.”

“I will.”

He nodded his appreciation, and then took the thread in hand again. Closing his eyes, he felt out the holes and carefully started growing the edges together, letting the thread heal itself like a plant reaching out new roots.

She watched him for a few more minutes, then said, “I’m going to go. Farewell, Narrator.”

“And you, Showrunner. Have a good day.”

***

On the sixth day, by sunset, he had dealt with 42 more threads, leaving a remaining 67 to still manage. Good. This was good. He was making good progress here.

And then the world outside went purple.

He blinked, checked his sensory inputs, and determined that yes, this was actually happening and yes, this was affecting the world around him 

He took a few minutes to make a light protective firewall around Stanley and the incredibly delicate exposed threads, and then conjured a door and stepped into the thick of it.

…and saw the showrunner wielding godly power.

He was instructed to retrieve Sora (from kingdom hearts! He had played that video game, a few years ago, and had largely enjoyed it. Except for some of the boss battles.)

And then he fucked up. Spoke too soon, too much, just… wrong. Again.

He left after that.

Returning to Stanley’s apartment, he decided to wait out the– now literal– storm, and so he sat down in the armchair and kept his eyes trained on the protective barrier he’d made around Stanley. He was not going to let this magic disrupt– or, gods forbid, undo any of his work.

And given the circumstances, he was not too upset when he woke up a few hours later. He was tired, and he was nearly at the end, and by now, the storm had stopped. Good job, effective strategy there– just sleep until it’s over. He sighed, stood up, and went back to Stanley.

***

By the end of the seventh day, he was nearly done.

45 threads repaired. Only 22 to go. He could do this.

As the sun set, and the moon rose, the Narrator worked through the night.

By the morning of the eighth day, he was done sorting them.

He carefully began placing the cluster back in in chunks, grouping and tagging them in Stanley’s files so– gods forbid– if something like this happened again, it would be a much simpler process.

And by the afternoon, the were all inside. He took a deep breath, placed his hand on Stanley chest, and pressed his energy into Stanley, the light that was his power running through every last wire like a complex system of nerves and veins, lighting up his being.

And Stanley’s eyes opened.

He blinked.

Oh, those eyes. Brown like cardboard that’s been dampened by water, but with the slightest hint of sunlight landing in little yellow tinges to his iris.

“Stanley.” the Narrator said, his voice shaking with exhaustion and relief and love, already feeling tears forming in his own– annoyingly human– eyes.

[Narrator.] Stanley signed. He looked down at himself, up at the Narrator, and then his face broke into a smile. He sat up and immediately, tightly hugged the Narrator.

The Narrator felt Stanley’s tears fall upon his neck, and he hugged back. They sat in that embrace for as long as Stanley could stand to, before he pulled away to sign.

[I’m back.] He signed with enthusiasm. [You– you fixed it?]

“Every bit.” The Narrator said tearfully, giving Stanley’s cheek a squeeze. “Do you want to, uhm, put your clothes on? Maybe, ah, go out and celebrate or something?” Stanley looked down at his body and nodded. [Could you conjure them?]

The Narrator nodded, snapped his fingers, and handed Stanley his standard shirt and pants. Stanley smiled at the sight of them, and the Narrator turned away and crossed over to the other apartment while he dressed.

He knocked on the door.

He heard a clinking sound, and then the door opened. The Showrunner was there, looking a bit tired. 

“Hello!” the Narrator said brightly. “He’s awake.”

“Oh!” She said. He saw her eyes widen. They were the same color as the rest of her face from what he could see, “Lovely.”

“Oh, shit? Like, awake awake?" Xigbar said.

“Yes? What– what else would that mean?”

Before Xigbar could reply, the Showrunner said, “Fun! Okay, Xigbar, you stay here.”

“Sounds good to me.” the Narrator said, sighing and turning to head back to Stanley’s apartment. He gave a quick knock and then opened the door.

And Stanley was there. Sitting on the couch. He waved at the two of them.

She clapped her hands once with a clinking noise and bounced a little, “Stanley!! How are you feeling?”

[Oh, uhm. Good! My head’s clearer. No more will shit. Uh, kinda feel a little restless? Like I could go and walk for like. 4 hours. Straight. But other than that, really fucking good!]

He stood up and smiled at her, and then laughed a little. [Do you, uh. Want a hug?]

She nodded, “Yes!! It’s really good to see you!”

He smiled and walked over to her, giving her a tight, warm hug. Not a particularly long one, per say, but still a good hug.

“I- Oh, I’ve missed you,” She said, “And-” her eyes widened, “So much has happened? Xigbar’s dad is here?”

[What?] Stanley signed, his brow furrowing.

“I know! And he has a weird ass boyfriend in the woods- they’re living in the woods- and- Oh! And I have this!” She summoned the weapon from before, the pink spikey one, “Keyblade! Oh, and I made this orchard thingy we could check out sometime if you wanted,” She said as she dismissed it.

[Okay?] Stanley signed, and then he looked back at the Narrator. [How– how long has it been? A month?]

“Actually, closer to… two weeks. I believe. One of that was just spent waiting in, ah, the snowglobe.”

Stanley’s eyes widened, and he looked at the Showrunner with some sort of… confusion? Not exactly judgemental, more just… perhaps, concerned?

“I- I let him out as soon as we arrived back home,” She said, “But it took a week for Sora to get to us and back. The tunnels, they’re confusing.” She clasped her hands in front of her.

[Good.] Stanley signed emphatically. [Because he is staying with me. You’re not fucking with my boyfriend again.]

“I wasn’t intending to,” she said, “We’ve come to an understanding, I think.” She sounded somewhat uncertain on that last part.

The Narrator looked at her, and then sighed. “Yes, I suppose it’s time for that now, isn’t it? Well, go ahead. I– I’m not going to go back on my word.”

The Showrunner hesitated, then slowly pulled out her tablet, “That’s- not what I was talking about.” She stared at it for a while, then tapped it once. “I turned off necrogenesis,” She said, returning it to her cloak, “The rest can stay with the same caveat as the others.”

The Narrator blinked. “Why?”

She gave him a sort of look, then shook her head slightly, examining her nails. She didn’t answer.

[Okay.] Stanley signed, looking between them. [Are you guys… cool? Or at least. Less bad?]

“We’re… fine.” the Narrator said, a bit nervously.

The Showrunner turned her hand this way and that, looking at it, “Oh, you know.”

[Cool.] Stanley signed. [Right, so. I. I don’t really know what the best thing to do next is? Narry suggested a celebration, but I don’t really know how you’d… celebrate waking up from a bug-induced coma.]

The Showrunner reached a hand into her cloak and pulled out- a button, a yellow color and shaped like a cartoon duck. 

[Holy fucking shit.] Stanley signed, his eyes widening. [Oh my gosh. That’s a button. And a duck.]

He could see an ivory-white smile on her face.

“It quacks,” she said, holding it out to him, “And I still have the friendship bracelet, if you want that as well.”

Stanley took the button, pressed it, and grinned emphatically at the quack. He pressed it a few more times, and then set it down on the coffee table.

[I’d love to exchange bracelets! I think I’ve got yours in my drawer.] he signed, and quickly went over to the nightstand drawer and rummaged around for a bit, before pulling out a bracelet that was incredibly pink and adorned with all sorts of little charms.

“Lovely,” she said, walking over to him. She reached into her pocket once again and pulled out a bracelet- various shades of beige, with yellow beads.

The two of them exchanged bracelets, tying them onto each others wrists, and looking over them appreciatively.

[That flower bracelet looks nice!] Stanley signed, after he finished playing with the beads on his bracelet.

“Oh, thank you! I grew it, apparently. Sora- you know about Sora?- Well, he- okay, context, he got a tumblr after I had Xigbar send a note, something something, we made fun of Xigbar’s dad together, he came to get us in BFD, briefly defended me from [nickname redacted] even though I told him not to- He got in front of me! Kid’s 17 and he got in front of me-” She waved it away, “Anyway, we get back, and then I get, Oh, the worst news of my life. And then a keyblade! Which is pretty cool. But it unlocked something, magically? And I sort of lost it? I have very little memory of the event. Xigbar says I ‘razed the earth’. I did not. But an-y-way, The Narrator comes out, Xigbar tells him to get Sora, he gets Sora, Sora calms me down somehow- I remember him saying ‘you’re my friend’ and then I grew the bracelet! It’s actually living flowers, see?” She held her wrist out for him to look, “and then I passed out. And! You won’t believe it- I woke up in my bed, to Xigbar and Sora playing Mario Kart. Like, in a friendly way?? Anyway, I’m totally taking him to Disney Land once this whole thing is over. If you wanted, I could probably hold a front round to smuggle you, and well- The Narrator if you wanted- out of the Parable if you wanted to come with us? A little variety in that time loop of yours?”

Stanley blinked, sat down on the sofa, and just sort of stared at the carpet, trying to parse through… all of that. The Narrator also mentally re-calibrated his thoughts– he had mostly just been in the apartment and had not realized this much had happened.

After a few minutes, Stanley looked up at the Showrunner.

[I… I’ll have to think about that, I think? I’m still… thinking. About all of that. I don’t really know if I understood all of that. But. I… would like to hang out with you? Uh.]

He turned to the Narrator.

[Do you want to go to Disney?]

The Narrator did want to go to Disney, but he also wanted to talk about this a bit more, so he shrugged as noncommittally as possible. “Maybe. I’ll have to check my schedule.”

The Showrunner raised an eyebrow.

[Okay.] Stanley signed, nodding in understanding. [Cool.]

He turned back to the Showrunner. [So, uh. Anything else happen? Is Xigbar still… well, he’s still here, I guess. But uh. Is he doing better? Less of a complete ass?]

“I think so,” She said, tilting her head, “But then, I wouldn’t really know, would I? He was nice to Sora, who’s killed him two times, if that’s anything. Apparently, Mario Kart was Xigbar’s idea, even. Let Sora be player one. That’s something, right?”

[Yeah.] Stanley signed, sighing. [I– I’ll probably talk to him on Tumblr first. I think I’m going to punch him if he says one more snarky fucking comment to my face.]

The Narrator raised a brow encouragingly in Stanley’s general direction.

“Better that than slonking him,” The Showrunner said with a sort of smile.

[The original plan was the other way around.] Stanley signed with a bit of a smirk. [But, yeah. Don’t need him for that at all anymore.]

“I’m glad. I’ve been feeling rather mythological lately. Not like Hera, more like-” She gestured with her hand, “Aegeus on the cliff, seeing the black sail and Say Pleasing himself onto the rocks below.” She paused, “But mythological nonetheless.”

[I– okay? Why have you turned say please into a suicidal phrase? I liked it.]

She waved her hand, “Honestly, I’m not sure how it happened. It still means what it used to mean. I think it happened on a phone call.”

[Okay.]

Stanley sighed and leaned back into the couch. [You, uhm– please tell me you stopped doing human experimentation?]

She blinked. “Yeah, I guess so.”

[Oh! That’s good.]

“Yeah.” She said, looking at her nails, “And I’ve stopped the death matches.” She sort of half-smiled.

[Nice.]

She blinked. 

[Like, yay! No more death. You’re, uhm, not going to start them again. Right?]

“Oh, no.” she waved that idea away, “They were an aberration because I wanted Xigbar gone. I no longer want him gone, clearly. Also, Sora would not. Like that.”

[And, so, no more human experimentation either.]

She tilted her head, “Weeelllllll,” She did a ‘so-so’ motion with her hand, “There’s, of course, [Name Redacted]. And if you’re going to protest-” She held out her hand-

[No, no I want his shit fucked up. Fucker. His ass gets thrown in the torment nexus.]

She relaxed slightly, “I’m glad you feel that way. I- I fear you don’t know the full extent of it. Just while you’ve been asleep, we’ve come to the realization that he is-” She made a face, “So. Much. Worse. Than even I thought, Stanley.”

[Oh, shit. Do you– is that something you want to talk about? With me?]

She crossed her arms, hugging herself. “I-  yes. I. Well. Most of it, later. Now- Like,” She leaned in slightly, her voice taking on a tone of gossip, “Xigbar, like totally knew. And he just didn’t tell me. I had to find out from his dad. His cult-ass dad in the woods with his devil-deal boytoy.”

[Oh, you gotta tell me more about that.] Stanley signed. He patted at the couch and looked at the Narrator.

[You guys. Come here. We’re gonna talk shit about Xigbar and also cuddle– in a fun friend way for you, {SCEPTER}, and in a fun boyfriend way for you, Narry, and also, I’m in the middle, so neither of you have to touch each other and get hives or something.]

The Showrunner tensed a small bit. He heard her tap on her leg or something. Clink clink clink. 

“I can just… sit.” the Narrator offered. “I’m rather tired, as a matter of fact. It’s been a lot of… it’s been a process, fixing you. I’d like to just… be. With you. For some time.”

“Yes-” She looked at the Narrator almost appreciatively, “You need rest. I saw how hard you were working.”

He nodded, sighed, and then sat down directly next to Stanley on his left, letting his partner lean into him and resting his head on Stanley’s shoulder.

Stanley sighed, and rested his hand on the Narrator’s calf and gave it a loving squeeze.

“I- I’m going to let you rest. I’ll check on my garden in the meantime. Stanley, you have my phone number, yes?”

[Uh… yeah. Xigbar wrote it down for me on some paper. It’s gotta be somewhere in here.]

“That’s good,” she said, “You can text me.” She glanced towards the door.

Stanley nodded.

“Alright,” She said, “Bye, Stanley. And farewell, Narrator.”

The Narrator gave a mumbled sound of appreciation, and nuzzled his head further, blocking out the annoying light. Wait, he could control that.

He waited for the Showrunner to leave, and then carefully dimmed the general light-levels of Stanley’s apartment.

“I’m so glad you’re back.” he murmured. “I missed you. I need you to be okay. I– Stanley, I was worried.”

Stanley wraps his hand around the Narrator’s, and gives a tight squeeze, and then he leans back, further pressing their two bodies together.

And that is enough for the Narrator to close his eyes and fully fall asleep.

(@white-boy-bracket)

#ooc #lore update

[soapkaars]

If you could cast Peter Lorre in a modern day film or tv series, what character would he play?

So I already sort of answered a similar question in another ask, but let's go in the weeds properly with this one!

I am a big fan of detective mysteries - I grew up with Inspector Morse and Maigret, so naturally my first thought was casting Peter Lorre in one of those. I am firmly convinced Lorre would’ve been an excellent Poirot:

The character was made by Agatha Christie in the same time Lorre's acting career took off, so Poirot is literally a contemporary of Lorre's and a type of character he would definitely have been familiar with - the well-groomed, slightly prissy foreigner with a strong accent but an excellent grasp of the English language (though not always with its colloquialisms) who uncovers the dark secrets of British upper class families. It's a pity Mr Moto and Charlie Chan were so popular in the US, because in an ideal world the foreign detectives who took Hollywood by storm should’ve been based on Hercule Poirot, and then I would've had my wish.

I really should watch Twin Peaks because from everything I know through cultural osmosis about that series, Lorre would've fit right in. I think Peter Lorre would've definitely been a great fit in some of David Lynch's films (Eraserhead, Blue Velvet…) , particularly because he loves to cast oddball characters who are larger than life. Come to think of it, a lot of late 20th century American films have delightfully strange and fascinating characters and plots Lorre could be a part in - from the French Connection, to American Psycho, to Videodrome (Lorre in a Cronenberg film! Imagine), to Pulp Fiction… I’m not even imagining him as playing a main role, some of the auxiliary characters in those films would fit him to a T.

The only thing I'm having a hard time imagining him in are contemporary films of the last five years. Certainly not Hollywood films as they are now! But… I do think he would be a natural fit in Wes Anderson films - so many of his films hide this deep melancholy and ennui under their perfectly maintained facades, and considering how Lorre acted: always being the best dressed in so many films, but at the same time hiding so many layers of characterisation under those stylish clothes…

In fact, coming from the German Expressionist tradition and avant-garde theatre, Lorre would do very well with auteur directors from almost any era! Exercise for the reader: imagine Lorre in a film by

Jean-Pierre Jeunet: Amelie Poulain, Alien Resurrection (I know people hate this film but just imagine him as that creepy doctor - perfect fit), The City of Lost Children, Delicatessen (you know he would fit so well in that one)

Francois Ozon: Swimming Pool

Tom Tykwer: Lola Rennt (Run Lola Run)

Federico Fellini: la Dolce Vita, 8 and 1/2, Il Bidone

Paolo Sorrentino: La Grande Belleza, Il Divo, Youth, Loro

Luchino Visconti: Death in Venice, Ludwig, Ossessione (an adaptation of The Postman Always Rings Twice!)

Bernardo Bertolucci: Il Conformista

Stanley Kubrick: The Shining, Dr Strangelove, Clockwork Orange, the Killers

#oops i spent too much time answering this one! #peter lorre #ask soap #films and directors i love

[mstexalicious1961]

30 Day Reading Plan from In Touch Ministries by Dr Charles Stanley.

Life Principles To Live By:

The Key to Continued Peace

Life Principle 12: Peace with God is the fruit of oneness with God.

It’s a known fact that into every life a little rain must fall. No one is exempt from the difficulties that have a way of showing up when we least expect them. And chances are when adversity does strike, one of the first questions we’ll ask ourselves is why. We may even begin to fret about the impact it will have on our lives. While reactions such as these are normal, we also need another response—and that is to turn to the One who holds all comfort and security firmly within His grasp.

Paul admonishes us to “be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 4:6-7).

How can we change the feelings of anxiety when we come under pressure? One of the first steps is to recognize anxiety for what it is—the opposite of peace. It’s the fan that flames the fires of doubt and confusion, and it has the ability to leave us helplessly bundled in worry and fear. When we cave to thoughts of anxiety, we lose our spiritual focus and mindset. The key to overcoming anxiety is found only in the presence of God.

Accepting God’s timetable and the limitations He places on a given situation help to dispel rising anxiety. Therefore, let Him provide for you in His timing. When you accept life as a gift from the hand of God, there you will find mercy and grace, forgiveness and hope, peace and everlasting security.

Let His peace fill your heart—today and every day. Tell Him all you’re feeling. God understands and knows life can be difficult—but He has a solution. Our peace resides in our Savior who loves us unconditionally. And He’s promised to keep us and deliver us into the Father’s loving arms.

#devotion

[francisfordcoppolasdracula1992]

Stanley Fish is haunting because I want to kiss that man on the mouth but I also don’t want to incorporate such a radical reader response into my worldview, no matter how compelling it is

So I’ve spent the last week arguing with myself about whether or not Hirsch is right and a text does Mean and there are better methodologies to find what it Means and that it’s important to do so and firmly believing he’s right

While also projecting onto his vantage point metaphor thing theory to argue that he’s right by reinterpreting every text as an object and every object is there and exists in its own reality, produced by its own material conditions and so Means, but yet what folly to believe the object could ever be fully understood because every act of production fails to fully articulate Meaning and so we can never encapsulate the object from every vantage point and if we could we would still miss the ineffable core of it so all we can encounter is the object as thing, as that means of its production that acts upon us and with us into grasping some facet of meaning which brings me back to Fish and me throwing my phone across the room

#i can contain multitudes

[totallysharkycomplete]

Waiting For You Part Six (Ford Pines x Reader) Home In Your Arms

She awoke before the dawn as usual. Under the blankets was warm. Although the boat was cold Ford’s body, which was firmly pressed against hers, provided plenty of heat. The gentle swaying of the boat would have made it easy to fall back asleep, but since the weather was supposed to be clear today, she decided to get up and watch the sunrise.

Gently slipping out of the covers, and out of Ford’s grasp, she quickly dresses into more layers before quietly stalking up on the deck. She could still hear the heavy breaths and snores coming from the cabin below. The deck was even colder than the cabin, and there was a layer of frost on the upper windows. She quickly made a cup of coffee then downed it, then leaned against the front railing, and waited for the sunrise as the clouds on the horizon turned pink.

She was lost in thought, so when someone wrapped their arms around her waist she jumped. The person behind her chuckled and she let out a sigh.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Ford’s lips are right next to her ears, his stubble is scratchy on her skin.

She lets out a hum, then turns around in his arms to face him. “You could still be sleeping.”

He begins to plant gentle kisses to her cheek. “Couldn’t without you.”

She giggles and places a hand on his cheek, her thumb runs over his stubble.

“Why are you up so early?” He almost whines against her skin, still leaving soft kisses on the small amount of skin exposed on her cheeks and upper neck.

She let out a content sigh. “Weather is supposed to be clear. I wanted to watch the sunrise. Would you like to join me?”

He moves his head up and presses his forehead to hers. “I’d love to.”

She leans forward the inch she needs to so she can plant a kiss on Ford’s lips. It’s soft, but conveys so many feelings. Love, affection, the sense of being home.

Ford tries to lean forward for another kiss but she quickly turns around. He lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Sorry, but the sun rises this way.” She teases.

Ford’s hand is on the back of her neck, moving the hair away from it so he can press more kisses to her skin.

“You’re in a very touchy mood this morning.” She comments, leaning her back against his chest.

“Do you want me to stop?” He murmurs, lips still on her skin.

“No,” she quickly tells him. “Just an observation.”

He leaves a few more kisses on her skin before her hand wraps around his. “Ford, look.”

The sun had just peaked above the horizon, brilliant oranges and yellow began to fill the sky, casting warm rays of light on the small sleepy fishing village they had docked near. Soon the warm rays fell onto her face. “Isn't it beautiful?”

“Not more so than you.” Ford tightens his grip around her waist and rests his chin against the top of her head.

She’s glad Ford can’t see the blush on her face. Even after thirty plus years had passed, he could still make her blush. She was about to say something modest back to Ford until she heard a burp and scratching noises.

“Ugh, get a room.” Stanley had obviously joined them on deck.

“We have a room.” She rolls her eyes. “I think you forget we share sometimes. Your memory is slipping old man.” She teases without moving from Ford’s grip.

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves her comment away before heading inside the upper cabin to the coffee she had prepared.

There's a moment of peace, you might almost call it pure bliss. To spend the sunrise wrapped in your lover's arms, their warm breath leaving them in clouds of hot air, the boat gently rocking them as the morning tide rolled in.

“Everytime I wrap my arms around you, it feels like coming home all over again, to where I belong.” Ford whispers.

She turns to face him again and cups his face with both her hands, and kisses the tip of his nose. “When did you become so romantic?”

Ford leans into her touch. “I mean it.” He pauses for a second. “I don’t think I ever told you, but when I first came back and saw you, my first thought was that I had died and gone to heaven. Being with you again is everything I’ve ever wanted and more.”

“If you had died and gone to heaven then that would have meant Stan was in your heaven too.” She laughs.

“He’s still her now.” He grabs her hand to hold it still so he can tilt his head and kiss her thumb.

She laughs even louder this time, then wraps her arms around his neck to draw him into another kiss. “I love being in your arms. I love being your home, because you’re mine too.”

The boat rocks them gently as the morning sun warms their bodies. Their hearts are full of love for one another. “Let’s stay like this forever, and just let the world drift away.”

Ford is about the respond before Stan interrupts.

“Hey love birds! We gonna explore some anomalies today or what?” Stan barks from behind them.

Ford's eyebrows furrow and he goes to turn his head to snap at Stanley, but her hands catch his chin and turn his face back to her. She kisses him passionately three times and he’s breathless. She untangles herself from Ford and heads towards Stan.

“What’s on the agenda for today co-captain Stanley?” She smiles.

Ford is left standing there speechless and in a daze.

“Are you coming, co-captain Ford?”

Ford looks over at her. She squinting her eyes as the morning sun washes over her features, her cheeks pink from the cold. He has never been more in love with her.

“Coming, associate co-captain.”

---------- By the time the sun was high in the sky he three of them had docked the boat and climbed halfway up the mountain. The town folks had told them about strange flying creatures that lived near the top of the mountain.

The sun beat down on them, and they soon found themselves needing to take off some of the many layers of winter clothes they had dressed in for the day. About an hour into the hike Stan speaks up.

“Hey poindexter, how bout a break?” He huffs as he wipes sweat from his brow.

“We’re very close to where the creatures were reported being seen.” Ford is warm, sweat gleams on his brow, but his attitude is chipper and he’s not as nearly out of breath.

“Even the kid needs a break.” Stan motions towards her.

She rolls her eyes at Stan still calling her a kid. She’s also out of breath, almost as bad as Stan. The high altitude is getting to her, but she wouldn’t voice it.

Ford places a hand on her shoulder. “What do you think? Would you like to take a short rest.”

She smiles and nods. “Let’s take a short rest. We wouldn’t want Stan passing out on us.”

Stan grunts but doesn’t say anything. Glad to finally have a break from hiking. The three of them sit on the ground and drink their water. Ford is sitting as close as he can to her. She shivers as a cold breeze blows past them, feeling a little cold now that they have stopped moving. Ford wraps an arm around her shoulder, she looks up at him and smiles a wordless thank you.

After a few minutes they stand up and begin to get moving again. She groans as she stretches, and once they start moving again she is behind both the boys on the path.

“You alight? You’re normally faster than me.” Stan turns his head to talk to her while they move up the narrow mountain path.

“I’m fine, my legs are just a bit sore.” She tells him.

They continue their hike until they break through the tree line. They can see the horizon on the sea, and far below them is the small fishing village where they left the Stan O’ War II docked.

She’s stunned by the beautiful view and almost doesn’t realise Stan and Ford haven’t stopped walking like she had. She scurries to catch up to them, until she sees a bush near her shake. Looking over she sees a small head of a rat pop out.

“Aww.” She says softly to not scare the rodent away. “Hey little fella.” She coos.

The rat scurried back into the bush at the sound of her voice, much to her disappointment. She turns to catch up to the boys, After a few steps she hears a strange sound. Somewhere between a squeak and a squawk. Turning around she sees the rat has raised itself out of the bush with a pair of wings. This must be the creature they had been looking for!

“Fascinating!” She says to herself and pulls out her sketchbook and begins to jot down a quick doodle on the animal. The sun catches on her silvery pen and flashes a light up at the rat-like creature. It squawks loudly then dives towards her.

Further up the path Ford is mumbling to himself and Stan is tuning him out. Both of them freeze when they hear a shriek. They both stop dead in their tracks and whip around to see she is no longer behind either of them. The brothers share a second of a glance before booking it back down the trail.

It doesn’t take them long to get back to her. When she comes into sight they can see she's using one arm to shield her face, the other is holding her notebook and waving it aimlessly behind her, trying to hit the creature that’s attacking her hair.

Stan is the first to her, he pulls her to his chest with one arm and throws a left hook at the creature, sending it crashing into a tree. There's a moment of silence before Ford is pulling her into his arms. Stan makes his way over towards the tree.

“What happened? I thought you were right behind us?” Ford’s hands are on her face, tilting her head around and looking for any sign of injury. Her hands rest on his chest.

“Ford, I’m okay, promise. You were both further up the path when I noticed the creature. I thought if I called to you I’d scare it off. So I tried to get a quick sketch, and I must have scared it because it started attacking my hair.” She can’t help as a laugh escapes her.

“You could have been hurt.” Ford’s voice is soft as he scoulds her.

“But I wasn’t.” She teases.

“Please promise me you won’t go off on your own again? I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt.” Ford told her seriously.

She stops smiling when she realises Ford is actually upset, not with her, but by the fact she could have been hurt. She takes his hands, which were still on her face, and holds them in hers. She leans up and gives him a soft, reassuring kiss.

“I promise.” She whispers.

“Check this out!” Stan shouts and holds the unconscious ratbird in between them by its feet.

She shrieks with surprise and jumps away from Ford. “Stanley that’s disgusting!”

“What!? I thought you like rodents!” He laughs, shaking the bird closer towards her as she takes another step back.

“I wouldn’t pick up a wild rat or bird with my hands, or let it that close to my face! Who knows where that thing has been!” She scolds him. “If it wakes up and bites you I’m not helping you.”

In the commotion Ford slipped on some protective gloves from his pack. “Hold it still please Stanley.” Stan complies and Ford gently stretches its wings open and begins to list off observations about it that she quickly sketches down. “It’s wingspan is too small to carry it far. That’s probably why it is native only to this island.” He lists other things off like teeth size and tail length.

Stan gently set the animal down. “Think that’s enough for today right?”

The other two agree and they begin their trek back down the mountain. She is in front of them now to set the pace, and so the boys can’t lose sight of her. When the path begins to get wider, Ford falls back a bit to walk besides Stan.

“Thank you for earlier.” Ford tells his brother.

Stan looks at him confused. “Didn’t do nothing.”

“You were able to get to her first and protect her from the rat bird.” Ford reminds him.

Stan waves it off. “Don’t mention it.” Stan wouldn’t admit to Ford how scared he was to see her get attacked like that, he’d rather not think about it.

When they make it back to the ship the sun is already touching the horizon. It was Ford’s night to cook and the other two went to rest in their beds. When the food was ready Ford headed below deck to find them both asleep. He wasn’t surprised Stan had nodded off. Almost anytime he wasn’t actively moving or engaged in an activity he would fall asleep. But his believed fiance would normally be reading a book or be annotating her notes.

He gently brushes some hair out of her face and she stirs. She smiles up at him and grabs his hand and brings it down to her lips to kiss his palm. His heart flutters at her sweet act.

“I fell asleep.” She murmurs, voice heavy with sleep.

“I noticed.” He leans down to kiss her. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I feel perfect now that you’re here.” She giggles and he frowns. She frowns too, but only to mock him. “I feel fine Stanford. I guess today was just too exciting is all.”

“Well, why don’t we have dinner then we can go right back to bed?” He suggested.

“You’re perfect. I love you” She smiles up at him, eyes half lidded.

“I love you too.”

They stare into each other's eye, and neither of them notice the loud snoring has stopped. There’s a loud groan announcing Stan has awoken.

“If you love him so much why don’t you marry him?” Stan teases, she rolls her eyes.

The next morning Ford is the first to wake up. His love is tucked close to his side, buried under the blankets. He turns on his side to draw her impossibly closer. She makes a noise at the movement but doesn't awaken.

The bed feels a little warmer than normal. Maybe the day will be warmer than the forecast had predicted Ford thinks. Ford lays there for a while, enjoying the silence and warmth for a while until she begins to stir.

He feels her stretch under his grasp and she looks up at him eyes still droopy from sleep.

“Good morning my dear. Would you like to join me for some coffee?” Ford murmurs into her hair.

She shakes her head no. “It’s too cold.” She tries to burrow closer to Ford to get any extra warmth.

“I’ll go turn the heater on upstairs, join me when you’re ready.” Ford moves the hair away from her forehead and kisses her there then freezes. He moves the back of his hand to her forehead, then his cheek to confirm his thought. “You’re burning up!”

“No, it’s cold.” She denies.

“You must have a fever. Do you feel alright? When did you start feeling sick?” Ford doesn’t bother keeping his voice down and clearly wakes up his brother.

Stan rolls his eyes at the commotion and makes his way to the upper deck.

Ford quickly stands. “I’m going to get dressed then go find a doctor in town. With a town this small there must be one to make house calls.”

“Ford, please, there’s no need for that.” She sniffs, still laying in the bed, pulling the covers closer around her.

“There really isn’t.” Stan grumbled, coming back down the stairs, a cup of water in one hand. The other was full of an assortment of pills. “Take these.” He gruffly shoved both the water and pills at her. She obeyed, sat up, and quickly tooked the unknown pills Stan had handed her. “Go back to sleep.” She layed down and closed her eyes, rolling over to face the wall away from the brothers.

“What did you give her?” Ford whispered, concerned.

Stan places a finger over his lips and motions towards the upper deck. They sit inside the cabin where Stan had turned on the space heater.

“She of course came prepared and packed herself cold medicine.” Stan slides the first aid box across the table so Ford can examine the medicine boxes of everything he had given her. “Almost every winter she gets a cold or two. Her legs start to hurt and she gets really tired. Should have seen it coming’ yesterday but was a little distracted by the birds. She must have noticed, but she never says anything. Thinks she can power through a fever.” Stan pauses a moment to laugh. “There was one time I caught her working on the portal shivering and sweating’ bucket. Practically had to drag her back to bed. The older we’ve gotten through, the less stubborn she’s gotten at admitting she’s actually sick.”

It finally dawns on Ford just how much Stanley had taken care of her while he was gone. Sure, she had told Ford directly that he had, but he thought she was just putting in a good word for her friend. Ford knows it to be true now. He remembers once in college she went to class with a fever just to be sent back to her dorm. If Stan hadn’t been here to make her rest when she was sick, she would have worked herself until she passed out or worse.

The cabin is silent for a moment.

“Thank you, Stan.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“No, Stanley, listen.” Ford looks at his brother and there are visible tears in his eyes. “She had told me before that you had taken care of her in my absence. I hadn’t thought much about it, since she's always been so strong and independent. I know she's also stubborn. If you hadn’t been there to make her rest… Thank you Stanley, truly, for taking care of her while I was gone.” Ford places his hand on his brother’s shoulder and gives it a firm squeeze. Stan returns the action, not commenting on the noticeable tears.

“She’d probably be happy to have you back downstairs to keep her warm.” Stan says, looking away from his brother. He doesn't want to see him cry, or he knows he will cry as well.

“I think you’re right.” Ford stands and goes to join her back in bed.

---------- Ford wasn’t exactly excited to go to the carnival on the boardwalk, but her and Stan conveyed it would be fun.

“It’ll be like the one back home! Remember when we tried to join the circus with our pet possum?” Stan laughed a deep belly laugh as they made their way past the ticket booth.

“You never told me you had a pet possum.” She's walking next to Ford, his hand is held tight in hers.

“But he told you about trying to join the circus?” Stan inquires.

“I’d argue he was more your pet than mine.” Ford argues.

They make their way around the attractions, eat some fair food, and play a few games. She has two stuffed animals they boys had won for her in her hands, and is filled with joy.

“You there, miss, would you like to know your future?” A voice calls to her, and she turns to see a fortune teller beckoning her towards their tent. The fortune teller's eyes are glassy and they don’t hold her gaze, they hold a long cane indicating they are blind. She feels an arm tighten around her shoulder.

“Fortune tellers aren’t to be trusted.” Ford tells her.

“It’s just for fun,” she comments. “There’s no way they could actually know my future.”

“I’ve traveled to different dimensions. I think almost anything is possible at this point.” Ford reminds her.

“I say we do it. I’d like to know when I get filthy rich.” Stan begins walking into the tent.

She tried to follow in after him but the fortune teller held up their hand. “Only one person inside the tent at a time please.”

So Ford and her wait outside the tent. It’s only a few minutes later when Stan exits with a huff. “You’re right, total scam, they don't know anything.”

The fortune teller exits the tent again and points over to her and Ford. “The six fingered one next.” Then enters the tent.

A chill runs up her spine. The teller was clearly blind, but to call Ford out like that. She shares a surprised look with Ford, who surprisingly goes into the tent after them.

Stan is clearly still mad about whatever he had been told, so she takes his hand. “I’m sure whatever they said it wasn’t true. Like you said, probably just a scam.”

Stan looks down at her warm smile and sighs. “You’re right kid. Just a scam. I should know.” They both share a laugh.

Ford exits the tent looking lost in thought.

“You’re next girly.” The teller holds open the flap for the tent and she makes her way in. The room looks bigger on the inside and there are two chairs on either side of a table with a fake looking crystal ball.

She sits and watches the fortune teller places their hands on the ball and thinks for a second before speaking. The ball lights up and smoke swirls around in it. “I would ask what you’d like to know about your future, but I already know what knowledge you seek. It weighs heavy on your heart. Knowing the truth might be even more of a burden. Would you still like to know?”

She thinks for a second. If the fortune teller was being honest and knew what she wanted to know, what she always thinks about, then she wants to know. “Will Ford and Stan die before me? I don’t think I could lose Ford again, and well, Stan is my best friend.”

The teller nods their head and hums. “As I suspected. Losing the ones you love is a heavy buren. Unfortunately you must bear the burden again, fortunately you only must bear it once.”

“Who?” Her voice quivers.

“As I said, losing someone you love is difficult, as you know. He cannot see his brother lost again. He will go first. You will be needed to comfort the six fingered one. This universe isn’t always fair, but it seems it will go easy on you, and you will not have to lose him again.” They remove their hand from the ball and the lights and smoke fade. “Now you know, you must live with this knowledge the rest of your life.”

She looks down at her hands and nods, then stands to exit the tent. She finds her boys standing exactly where she left them. Still looking lost in thought and a little angry. She pulls Ford into a hug and draws him from his thoughts.

“What did they tell you?” Ford asks, returning the hug.

She rests her chin on his chest to look up at him with a small smile. “That I’ll get to spend the rest of my life with you, and that’s all I want.”

“They really tell you that?” Stan grunts, clearly not happy with what he was told.

“No,” she confesses. “But they didn’t have to say that for me to know it, and-” She turns to look back at the tent and sees it's gone. She turns quickly to confirm what she sees if real. Then turns back to the twins, whose jaws are dropped.

The three share a look then agree to head back to the ship for the night.

Stan tosses and turns that night. He can’t seem to sleep. What the fortune teller had told his replays in the back of his mind and he’s still pissed about it. He throws off the sheets and puts on his coats and boots and heads to the upper deck. To his surprise, he wasn’t alone.

“Why are you up so late kid?” Stan slumps down onto the bench by her.

“I imagine for the same reason you can’t sleep.” She leans her head against her friend with her sigh.

There's a moment of silence between them. The only sound is the waves gently crashing on the nearby shore and the soft groan of the boat as it moves gently with the sea.

“What did they tell you?” They ask in unison. They both breath out a laugh.

“You first.” She says.

He thinks for a moment. “They told me I’m going to die before you and Ford. Ford, I get, he’s healthy and in shape.” She elbows him. “Not implying you ain’t! It’s just, I didn’t want to die before you is all. I’ve caused you enough suffering.”

She places her hand on his shoulder. “Stanley, don’t think like that. You haven’t caused me any suffering. You’re my best friend.”

He runs his hands down his face. “It’s my fault Ford got lost in the portal for thirty years, it’s my fault you didn’t get to start a family with him like you had planned to. It’s my fault you didn’t get to get married yet. It’s my fault that-”

“Stanley!” She shouts sternly at him and he turns to face her, surprised by the authority in her voice. She takes his hand in hers. “Stan you can’t think like that. You know I’ve forgiven you a long time ago with what happened with Ford. The rest of it… It doesn’t matter, because if it weren’t for you I wouldn’t have him back. If it weren’t for you I wouldn’t have met the most amazing great niece and nephew ever. If it weren’t for you I wouldn’t be sailing the seas right now with the two people I care the most about in the world, discovering amazing anomalies like I’ve always wanted to.”

Stan’s face is turned from hers but he gives her hand that’s holding his a tight squeeze. There's another moment of silence. “What did they tell you?” His voice croaks, she wouldn’t mention how he reached his free hand up to wipe his tears.

“They told me about the same.” She confesses. “That you’ll die before me, but I’ll be here for Ford.”

Stan Turns back to look at her. “Do you…” Stan doesn’t really want to finish the thought. He doesn’t want to think about their mortality.

“I’ll go before Ford. They said it was the universe going easy on me.” She smiles up at Stan, but the smile doesn't reach her eyes.

He pulls her into a tight hug. “Should we tell Ford?” She sniffs as tears sting her eyes.

“No. He wouldn’t want to know.”

----------- “Do you hear that?” Stan asks.

Ford and her are both sitting at the table noses in a book in the upper cabin of the ship. She and Ford listen, share a glance with each other, then look back at Stan.

“No,” they chime in unison.

Stan is driving the boat towards their next destination where there had been reports of strange ocean tides. He smacks his ear with the hearing aid.

“I must be picking up radio waves again.” He grumbles.

An hour later the two bookworms are asleep as Stan still mans the wheel, this time he hears the sound again. His head feels hazy and his body feels warm. He turns the boat towards the sound and begins to follow it.

Ford and her are jostled awake as the ship hits a large wave. They’re both lifted for a second from their seats before landing back down with a thump.

“Stanley what the hell is happening?” Ford is the first to notice the situation. The weather around them is awful. Rain pounds onto the ship, the boat jumps as it passes over enormous waves, going faster than she's ever seen it go. Lighting and thunder crash outside. Stan should have seen the storm coming.

Speaking of Stan. He’s standing at the wheel of the ship, eyes glued forwards, he doesn’t even notice Ford yelling at him. Ford pushes Stan out of the way and he falls to the floor. Suddenly Stan sits up and looks around.

“Where the hell are we?” He asks, hand held to his head.

“We should be asking you that, seeing as you were the one driving the last two hours!” She barks before reaching under the chairs for their life vests. She tosses the boys theirs and secures her own, they quickly buckle theirs as well.

“I don’t, I don’t know what happened.” Stan looks lost for a second. “I can’t remember.”

Her heart hurts for her friend. She knows that must be scary for him but now isn’t the time for comfort. Ford begins to bark orders, she helps Stan to his feet.

They begin securing lines and sails, making sure all objects are secured down so they won’t cause the three of them harm.

Suddenly she hears a noise and freezes. Her head feels hazy and her body feels warm. It seems as if her body is moving on it’s own as she begins to walk towards the door and exits the cabin. A strong hand grabs her arm.

“What are you doing?” Ford screams over the rain. Stan had taken the wheel again.

Her eyes are glazed over and she tries to continue walking towards the railing. Ford begins to drag her back inside but she resits. She freezes and he stops trying to pull her. She turns and points.

“There.”

Ford turns to see what she’s pointing at, and it’s the largest wave he’s seen in his whole life. He quickly wraps his body around her and tries to make it back into the cabin before the wave hits, but he’s not quick enough. The water envelops their bodies and they are thrown against the railing. The ship pops back up over the waves again and Ford looks into her eyes.

She's over the railing, dangling off the ship, her only tether is Ford’s hand.

“Don’t let go! I’ve got you!” He shouts desperately holding onto her and the ship.

Her body is like a rag doll as it’s slammed into the ship with the waves. She looks back up at Ford, eyes still glazed, and lets go of his hand, falling into the inky water below.

The second her body pops back up from water her head clears. Her life jacket inflated when she hit the water. The last thing she remembers was she was on the ship with the boys. A wave overtook her and she pushed back under the water. When she comes back up she realises she hears Ford screaming.

It’s dark and all Ford can see is the automatic light on her life vest getting further and further from them. He’s screaming for her, and for Stan to move the boat in her direction.

She tries to scream for him but is pushed under water again. When her head resurfaces she struggles for a breath before the same thing happens again. Coming back up this time she sees the ship be covered by a wave, then herself. This time when she comes back up she sees the light of the ship are gone. She feels something grab her foot, and is dragged under the water.

Ford feels warmth all around him. His eyes fluttered open and he squints as rays of sun blind his eyes. Waves softly lap and his boots and he quickly sit up as the events that just unfolded flood his mind. He looks around quickly hoping to see his love, or his brother.

Stan isn’t far from him and Ford hops to his feet to run from him. He falls to his knees and sees he’s breathing, Ford begins to shake his brother. “Stanley! Are you alright?”

Stan’s hand comes up to swat his brother away. “Five more minutes.” He mumbles.

Ford doesn't hesitate to slap him across the cheek.

Stan is quick to sit up. “What the hell was that for?”

“Do you not remember what just happened?” Ford barks.

Stan’s eyes grow wide in horror. “She went overboard… Didn’t she?”

Ford slumps forward and his hands cover his face. “I had her, she was in my hands and she… She let go.”

“She let go?” Stan echos in confusion.

“She had the same look in her eyes that you did when we found you steering the ship into the storm.” Ford breathing is quick and ragged, the panic of what’s happened starts to over take him. “I… Oh god, I-,”

“Shut your yap,” Stan commands. “You hear that?”

At first all Ford can hear is the gentle crashing of the waves onto the shore, then he hears it. The distant call of a voice. A very familiar feminine voice.

Ford’s eyes frantically scan the beach both ways looking for the source when he sees her. She must have spotted him at the same time because she begins to sprint towards him. Ford is quick to his feet and meets her halfway. Ford pulls her into a crushingly tight hug as tears fill both of their eyes.

“I thought I had lost you.” He cries into her hair. “I don’t know what I would do if I had.”

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” She sobs. “We’re safe now.” She whimpers against his chest.”

They stay there in each other’s embrace, until Stan slowly walks over to them.

“Glad you’re alright kid.” Stan smiles.

She grabs Stan and pulls him into the hug. He grumbles something but hugs both of them. After a moment they pull back. Ford’s hands are still clutching the back of her wet, sandy shirt. Ford and her look at each other and share a breathy laugh, and begin to wipe the tears away from their eyes.

“Now that we’ve had that lovely reunion, where are we and where’s the ship?” Stan frowns.

“Destroyed, I'd imagine.” Ford clears his throat.

“Actually…” She takes Ford’s hand and begins to lead them down the beach the way she had come. “When I had gone overboard, my mind cleared when I hit the water. I saw the ship get taken over by a wave and thought the worst. Something grabbed my foot and dragged me under, but…”

They round the corner on the beach and see Stan O’ War II, unharmed, anchored off shore. Ford and Stan both notice some splashing around the ship that wasn’t like normal waves. The brothers share a look.

“How is it not damaged?” Ford is in awe of the vessel's perfect condition.

“Turns out, we’ve had a guardian angel this whole trip we didn’t know about.” She smiles.

“Who?” Stan asks.

“Mable.” She laughs as theirs another splash in the water, this time closer to the shore.

The brothers both see the end of a tail then a few seconds later, a head pops up.

“Ford, you might remember what Mable had written in the journal about meeting her friend, Mermando. Turns out she still writes to him and told him about our trip and asked him and his people to look out for us.” She waves over at the head that had popped up signaling to him it was safe.

“It’s the least I can do to repay my friend. If it wasn’t for her then I might still be trapped in Gravity Falls.” Mermando smiles. He had swum over to them as far as he could without leaving the water.

“A real mermaid, huh?” Stan grunts.

“Fascinating.” Ford muses.

“He and a few others were able to pull us to safety after we were lured into the storm.” She tells them.

“Lured?” Ford repeats.

“Yes, unfortunately two of you had been affected by a siren’s song. They’re like merpeople, only they crave violence.” Mermando shakes his head.

“We really can’t thank you enough.” She sighs, giving Ford’s hand a squeeze. “And please, don’t mention this to Mable. I wouldn't want her to worry.”

“She will hear nothing of it. You have my word. Farwell Pines!” And with that, Mermando splashes under the water and is gone.

“Darn it, I should have asked him some questions while I had him here.” Ford brings a hand to his mouth in thought.

She playfully shoves him. “I say we should be happy that we’re alive.”

“You know what I say?” Stan asks and begins stripping his clothes. “I say we have a beach day! Been forever since we were in a warmer climate like this!” He splashes into the water in just his underwear, leaving the other two behind.

“What do you say, my love?” Ford pulls her to his chest.

She wraps her arms around his neck. “Having a nice calm day after almost drowning to death? I think we deserve it.” She plants a soft kiss to his lips before pulling away and begins striping down to her underwear. “Race you to the water.”

Ford doesn’t have to be asked twice before he follows suit removing his clothes.

After hours of relaxing on the beach and playing in the water like children, the sun had begun to set. Stan had made his way back to the boat leaving only her and Ford on the beach.

Ford is laying on his back, her head rests against his shoulder. His arms are tightly wrapped around her. Her fingers absentmindedly trace the knit pattern on his sweater.

“I can’t believe out of anywhere I could be in the world right now, I’m here with you.” She whispers.

He hums and she can feel his chest vibrate under her cheek. She turns her head to look at him. His eyes are closed but there's a smile on his face.

“Are you asleep?” She giggles.

He hummed a sound to tell her no.

She breathes out a laugh and sits up. “Let’s head back before the sun sets all the way.”

He opens his eyes half lidded and smiles at her. She takes his hand and helps him sit up. His hands move to her face to draw her in for a kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

---------- “Alright, there. I think that will work.” She places the tablet down on the table she and her boys are sat at.

“Are you sure you set it up right?” Ford asks.

She rolls her eyes. “I helped build an interdimensional portal. I think I can figure it out.”

“I just wanted to make sure. You remember what happened when you tried to set up our vhs to record Saturday Night Dead.” Ford reminds her.

“That was one time! It’s not my fault the vhs caught fire!” She huffs.

“Can you two stop arguing like an old married for a couple?” Stan groans.

Ford and her share a look and smile. Their attention is pulled away from each other when the tablet begins to make noise.

“Oh, it’s ringing!” She leans forward and presses the green answer button. “Hello? Kids, can you hear us?”

She's greeted with the sound of laughter. “You’re too close to the camera. Move back a little.” She moves back and the screen reveals Dipper and Mable.

“I told you I set it up just fine!” She pats Ford’s chest.

“Kids! It’s good to see you!” Stan greets.

“You guys look so cute in all your boat gear!” Mable squeals.

“Yeah you guys look really cool!” Dipper confirms.

“How has school been going!” Ford asks.

“Great! I got accepted into some senior level classes for next semester.” Dipper cheers.

Mable pushes dipper aside to hog the camera. “And I got a boyfriend!”

Dipper shoves Mabel back to get back in frame. “Yeah, and he’s actually not awful and kinda normal?”

“Congratulations to you both.” She smiles and leans her head against Ford’s shoulder.

They continue to talk and catch up for almost an hour.

“So we can come back to Gravity Falls next summer for sure?” Dipper inquires.

“Absolutely! I've been in contact with Fiddleford and he said we are more than welcome to stay with him in the old Northwest manor.” Ford confirms.

“Soos also said you’re welcome to sleep over at the shack whenever you want.” Stan chimes in.

“I can’t wait to see you two again! You’re really the best great niece and nephew ever.” She comments.

“You’re the best graunt ever!” Dipper and Mabel speak in unison, then begin to giggle and shove each other.

“See you two in a few months!” With that they end the call.

“A month and four weeks, four days, and six hours.” Ford says precisely.

“But who's counting?” She teases.

“And only a month, fours weeks, two days, and four hours until you become my wife.” Ford pulls her close, Stan rolls his eyes and leaves the upper cabin.

“Now that I am counting down to.” She plants a kiss to his cheek. “Mrs.Pines, I love how that sounds.”

“Well then, Mrs. Pines?” He kisses her forehead, then her cheek, then her lips. “Will you do the honor of being mine?”

“I already agreed to marry you, that’s why we’re getting married.” She laughs.

“I know, but I love hearing you say it. I still can’t believe you agreed to marry me.” He jokes. “Will you say it? Say you’ll be mine? Forever and always?”

Her finger came up to trace his jawline and lead his lips to hers. “Forever and always.”

#waiting for you part six #stanford pines x reader #gravity falls reader insert #ford pines x reader #please check my ao3 for all tags and warnings #a kudos and comments would be appreciated too

[istanleyff7]

TOTP, Episode Aerith, Scenes 5-9

Final Fantasy VII Remake: Traces of Two Pasts Episode 2: Aerith Scenes 5 - 9

A Light Novel by Kazushige Nojima Translated by Stanley (@istanleyff7 on twitter)

Scene 5

"My mother immediately took out a syringe after sitting on the bench and injected herself. I was startled."

"That must have been rough..."

There was compassion in Tifa's eyes and voice.

According to her definition of a mother, Ifalna would be a "really good-natured person". However, she was different back then.

"Even though I knew she wasn't well, I only worried about myself."

"You were a child..."

"I know..."

Aerith fell silent. It cannot be helped since she was just a child. Thus, there were a number of regrets that she did not want to simply put away.

"Ah! My bad, my bad! Shall I continue?"

"Sure. Please."

"The medicine worked, and we walked on for hours in the Sector 4 Slums, taking a break at times. Then we saw an information board that said ‘Sector 5 Slums’."

Scene 6

"Mummy, it says this is the Sector 5 slums. The house is in Sector 3, isn't it?"

"Nope. This is fine."

"But the new house is in Sector 3, right?" 

"Aerith, let's hurry up a little. It's going to be nighttime."

"Where are we going? Where are we hurrying to?"

Without answering, Ifalna tightly grasped Aerith's hand and hastened her steps.

Many questions surfaced. Eventually, Ifalna started speaking silently.

"I've heard that there's a church in the Sector 5 Slums. In the past, people gathered here and prayed to God, but nobody comes here anymore. I've been thinking that we should hide here a little..."

"I've heard about God! Does he really exist?" Aerith was surprised.

"According to his believers, he does. I heard that when they pray, they get empowered."

"Pray...?"

"It's something like us Cetra speaking to the planet, although I don’t really understand it. But, since no one is coming to the church anymore, there probably aren't any believers. It's too bad for God, but it seems like it's great for our situation."

"We'll wait for Fuzz at the church?"

Ifalna stayed quiet for a while, then shook her head.

"We can't cause any more trouble than this."

"What about the new home?"

"We will not live there."

"Fuzz would be disappointed, wouldn't he?

"He probably will be."

"Are you okay with it, Mama?"

"As long as you're around, I'm okay."

Aerith thought that those were surprisingly comforting words. But that didn't mean that she didn't feel bad for Fuzz, nor had she gotten over the guilt of betraying him. However, after the thought that she didn't have to live seeing injections, medicine and backhand kisses, she felt a sense of relief.

"Let's go to the station first. I only know the way from there."

"Should we ask someone?"

"Nope. We don’t want anyone to know our whereabouts."

↞↠

There are times when there's not enough sunlight in the slums, as the plate was blocking them out. A giant lamp called the sun lamp makes up for that shortage. However, the light that was seen in the morning and afternoon was just like the actual sunlight. While she was amazed at her mother’s explanation, she also felt anxious. The evening was drawing near. She felt that something terrifying would happen if they didn't make it to church by sundown. A terrifying thing that she, too, couldn't imagine. 

"Aerith, that looks like the station."

Aerith looked over. A train was about to depart. Unlike the Sector 4 Slums Station, Sector 5's Slums Station seemed like a small station with only a platform. There were probably a few commuters departing from the trains, and there weren't many passers-by too. 

"Alright then, which way should we..."

Should we go? Those were the words she probably was going to say.

Without finishing her sentence, Ifalna sluggishly collapsed to the ground.

"Mummy?!"

Aerith's voice gathered the looks of her surroundings. However, nobody moved over to help.

Ifalna's breathing was heavy, and after touching her, Aerith realised she had a fever. A high fever.

"Mummy, where's your medicine?"

"I've... used them all..."

It was a desperate situation. What should Aerith do?

“Are you alright? Mummy?”

Ifalna said something from her painful breath. Aerith couldn’t hear it, so she brought her ears close to her lips. She only felt a hot sigh in her ears. What should she do? What should she do? Aerith's head became loaded with "What should I do". Her mother uttered something again, and Aerith heard that she's alright. But she was definitely not alright. However, what should she do? She wondered if anyone could help them, like how someone did at the Sector 4 Slums Station. Aerith lifted her head and looked for someone who seemed like they could help, but no one was paying attention to them. Would you please help us? Would you please look over here? These words come and go in Aerith's head. My mummy is sick. She has a fever. Please help us. Please, help us, please! However, she couldn't speak out.

"I'm sorry..." Ifalna muttered out. "We were... in the middle of an adventure..."

Please do not say such words.

"No!"

Her emotions overflowed in her voice.

“Are you sick?”

Looking back, there stood a man in faded and dirty clothes.

"Let's move her over there. She's blocking the way here."

Without waiting for a reply, he sprang into action. 

He inserted his hands under both sides of Ifalna, lying face up, and started to back away.

Ifalna was being pulled along and had her shoe fall off her foot. Aerith picked the shoe up and gave them chase. 

"Be more gentle!"

The man didn't change his expression and continued to pull her along. He sat her leaning against the station platform.

"Call a doctor."

"Where can we find one?"

"I don’t know, if it were me, I would shout out loud to find one."

The man turned back, and he really shouted out.

"Is there a doctor!"

However, there was no response.

"Well, all the best."

And just like that, the man went off without looking back.

"Oh, my goodness."

A well-dressed man and woman came over and looked at Ifalna scrutinisingly. 

"Are you doctors?"

"No, we're not."

"That person, is she your Mama?"

"Shouldn't we quickly call out for a doctor?"

"Don't you have any medicine?"

While listening to both of them, her mother's words came to mind. The truly good people are those that act on it and give help. The people here weren’t them.

"Mummy wait here. I'm calling a doctor over."

Aerith ran while looking as though she was being crushed by anxiety.

"Is there a doctor?"

She exclaimed in the direction of a lot of people.

"Is there a doctor?"

Looking back, she was a long way away from the station. She then heard the voices of men and women. It was a cheerful-like group who walked over. She decided to ask them, and if that didn't work, she would head back to the station. Aerith ran.

She was about to ask them was there a doctor. Then she saw a youth turning around and coming close to her.

"Hey, I've told you so!" the man continued walking back towards her. "And yet..."

Aerith hurriedly tried to avoid him but did not make it in time, the man's butt struck her face, and she fell over. The men and women gathered their gaze on Aerith.

"Go home and sleep, kid!" exclaimed the man who bumped into Aerith, and his friends burst out laughing.

She absentmindedly got up while hearing the laughter of the leaving group. She felt frustrated, sad, angry and miserable.

"Are you alright?"

Aerith looked back, and there was a woman who seemed to look over worriedly. The simple, tied up hair behind her head swayed. 

"I'm okay. Do you know a doctor?"

She noticed that she herself was crying and wiped away her own tears. 

"I live in the outskirts, so I don't know any doctors around here."

Aerith gave her thanks and started to walk away. Whenever she was asked whether she was alright, she only could reply that she was alright. She wondered how many times she asked her mother that.

"Mummy. I'm sorry..."

Aerith ran towards the station.

Upon returning, she saw that her mother's body was covered with a blanket. A "good person" must have appeared and covered her with it. However, seeing her mother's painful state, she felt as though her chest became crushed. Her fever was so hot, she couldn’t even keep touching her. 

"Mummy."

Even after she called out, Ifalna was still looking at the vast sky.

"Aerith. Are you here?"

"I'm here."

Ifalna's eyes searched for Aerith, and she grabbed her.

"This..." Ifalna pulled out a small pouch from her clothes and held it out.

"I got this from my dad, who got it from his mum, who also got it from her mum. It's not good for anything at all, but it has always been around, connecting us Cetra."

Aerith's chest became flaring hot.

"No. I don't want it."

If she takes it, it'll all be over. She had a strong hunch.

"Well... My life is ending soon. I'm returning to the Planet."

Ifalna's hand that was holding out the bag was trembling, and then it finally fell.

"Don't be sad. Even from here on out, I'll be by your side"

"Mummy."

"Are you alright?"

The voice came from above. She looked up towards the voice, and it was a woman, the same woman who called out to Aerith when she fell.

All of a sudden, Ifalna moved. She raised her upper body and grabbed the woman's arm.

"Take... Aerith... somewhere safe."

She said it with such a powerful voice that made Aerith wonder where she left that strength.

However, in the next moment, Ifalna's body became empty. Her spirit left her body, leaving her flesh and bones without its' host.

"Ah..." Aerith muttered without thinking.

Aerith repeated her mother's words in her head. Don't be sad. I'm returning to the Planet. I'll be by your side. Connecting us. She knew. Even though she knew, her chest still stung. Her tears were flowing down, and she let out her cry. Her body hurt and was also trembling. Someone was stroking her back.

Suddenly, the surroundings became busy. Aerith lifted her head and saw a train slipping into the platform with a roaring sound. 

"Let's leave here."

The woman said as she firmly pulled Aerith's hand, forcing her up her feet. Aerith quickly picked up the pouch.

"I have a bad feeling about this."

The woman pulled Aerith's arm as she hurriedly tried to leave the station. She remembered being pulled by Ifalna and crossing the railway tracks. She wondered where this hand would take her. 

Mummy, goodbye. 

From here on out, they'll probably still be together. That was probably right. However, Aerith would not be able to feel that body anymore. She was not allowed to feel that body anymore because the form of her mother's life was different. 

"Mummy!"

She turned back and yelled out to her mother, but the pull of her hand became stronger. She saw that the train stopped. When the door opened, Shinra troopers and men in white coats vigorously alighted. 

"Let's run."

When the woman saw that Aerith wasn't moving, she picked her up roughly and started running.

↞↠

When they eventually approached the centre of the slums, the woman finally lowered Aerith. 

"Are you able to walk?"

Aerith nodded in agreement.

"I'm sorry I couldn't properly let you say goodbye."

 Aerith shook her head. 

"I'm truly sorry that I had to leave your mother there and head off."

The woman had a sincerely apologetic look on her face. Aerith nodded again.

"You poor thing."

"My mother only just returned to the Planet, so I'm not sad."

"Ahh... It seems that there are people who do think of it that way. Even so, it's sad to be separated, isn't it?"

"Nope. It is because I can still meet her."

"I see. Well then, firstly, let's go to my house, shall we? When you're there, you can cry all you want."

Scene 7

"But I didn't cry at all."

After Aerith said that, Tifa gave her a dubious-like look.

"My house, you've been there before, right? The one in the Sector 5 Slums."

"Yup. I've been there."

"There were lots of flowers, weren't there?"

"Yup!"

"When I went there for the first time, I was also welcomed by the flowers. Really, I felt that. I felt the Planet, and I felt my mother. That's why I didn’t have to cry. What I left behind wasn't my mother. My mother was here."

Tifa tilted her neck and was puzzled.

"I've been saying weird things, haven't I?"

Aerith laughed.

"I think it's strange, but it isn't weird."

"Thank you. I thought that you'd say that. That's why I'm able to talk."

Tifa felt something at the back of her nose.

"Hey! Hey!" Aerith wanted to change the mood. "My house was huge, wasn't it? For a house in the slums."

"Yeah! More than just being splendid, I thought that it was a proper house. It doesn't look like a house in the Slums nor a house in Midgar."

"That's right. The house belonged to Elmyra's father-in-law. People said that her father-in-law was an influential man. How do I describe him... A Corneo who isn’t bad.”

"A Corneo who isn’t bad?" Tifa repeated herself.

"Ahhh, it's impossible. The impression is too bad."

"Yeah. Only Corneo's face comes to mind."

"I've failed. Think of a more gentlemanly face. Anyone besides Corneo would be fine."

"I'll try."

It seemed that Tifa was really trying. However, she slipped out a laugh.

"Hmmm?"

"I don't know many guys who are gentlemanly."

Scene 8

Aerith, who knows little about the landscape of the slums, also quickly realised that it was a unique and special place unlike any other. It was a land with lots of nature. Plants grew on the levelled three-dimensional terrain, and even flowers were blooming. It was a stunning scenery for Aerith, who only knew flowers in vases or potted plants.

They travelled through the garden and started walking down the wooden plank, which was laid out to make a path. Aerith then felt someone stroking her hands and legs. She didn’t feel uneasy and fearful. There was a gentle and calm feeling on her heart, or perhaps her head.

"Who are you?"

The wind was blowing and brushed Aerith's cheek. Her heart was filled with joy.

"Did you say something?" Elmyra Gainsborough, who had already introduced herself on the road, turned her head around.

"Nope."

"I see..." Elmyra started walking again.

"There’s lots of grass, aren't there? It's an old plot of land, and it was left like that. There are lots of flowers blooming too. It's still blooming now, but these kinds are just beginning to bloom."

Aerith thought of a garden with lots of flowers and was delighted. 

"I've been cutting and pulling them, but they are stubborn. It's hard because insects come too."

"I think it's good as it is."

"Well, but I'm giving up."

Elmyra's house was an old solid wooden building. They entered by opening an elaborately constructed double door with glass mounted on its' upper half.

Her day was filled with first time experiences since she left the Shinra Building. Above all, this experience of entering another person's house for the first time was like a lump of "first time"s striking down on her. The interior had an appearance in which plenty of natural wood was used. There were tables and chairs in the centre of the room. Unlike the rooms in the Shinra Building, the walls here had many windows. Furniture, tableware, pots, food, cleaning tools— it was like she could hear the breathing of the people living here. Aerith was distressed from the information overload and took a deep breath through her mouth.

"You're a strange child, aren't you?" 

Elmyra laughed. 

"I know it's sudden, but I thought about it along the way. I know I could bring you here, but what am I supposed to do after that? There was an orphanage on the way here, wasn't there? A lot of kids without parents live there. I thought about bringing you there, but there's a rumour that it's under the influence of Shinra Company. I thought about it after seeing what happened at the station. You probably hate the Shinra, don't you?"

Aerith nodded strongly many times.

"Well, we have to carefully think about what's going to happen from here on out," Elmyra let out a huge sigh. "But I'm not at a space to think about such complex matters now. Are you alright to go about this later and stay here for a while?"

Aerith nodded again and again.

"Well then, shall we go to the second floor?"

Elmyra, who seemed to be an impatient person, promptly climbed up the stairs to the second floor. Aerith hurriedly kept up and saw Elmyra waiting for her along the second-floor corridor. 

"In the meanwhile, I'll let you stay upstairs."

"Okay."

"This is a house with a fair number of guests. If there suddenly were a child, they would find it suspicious, wouldn't they? More than anything, I can't guarantee that they wouldn't tell Shinra about you. For the time being, except when I say it's okay, I'll have you stay upstairs."

"For the time being... How long will that be?"

Elmyra frowned and folded her arms. The smile disappeared from her eyes.

"Honestly, tell me. Is Shinra chasing your mother? Or are they chasing you too?"

She knew the meaning of her question. However, how should she reply? She was also probably being chased too. She was undoubtedly being chased because she is a descendant of the Cetra. 

"Ummm. Yes."

"It's alright if you say yes. However, if it comes to that, you'll be staying on the second floor until Shinra gives up finding you, okay?"

Aerith knew that Shinra would probably never give up searching for her. She'll probably live on the second floor her whole life.

"Don't look like that... It's human nature. You won't be here for an eternity."

"Um. Okay."

The doorbell rang downstairs. Elmyra frowned. Aerith felt nervous that it might be someone pursuing from Shinra.

"Wait here for a moment, quietly."

After quickly fixing up her hair and clothes, Elmyra went downstairs.

Aerith crouched down and hid her breath at that spot. After she thought she heard a sign of the door opening...

"Where did you go!"

The voice of a furious man burst through. Aerith lost her balance and quickly placed down her hand for support.

"That's none of your business!"

"You were the one who told me to come over in the evening, weren’t you? Oh? Do you treat people like this all the time?" 

"I said I'll probably be here in the evening. I didn't make any promises. You can't come here every day at any time for no reason."

'It will end after a signature and a blood seal. How many times must I say it?"

"It will be the same no matter how many times you say it. Understand? This is about the way society works, and the rules. Without Meguro's consent, I also won’t do anything. And even with my blood seal, he would think that I gave in to a threat. If you want to keep your job forever, you have to stay true to your own words, okay?"

"Shit!"

"Your teeth will fall off from such foul words. Well then, go home!"

"Shit! Shit!"

"If you want to stand on top of others, you'll repent for it. Well, back off!"

It was the sound of the door slammed shut. The man was mumbling in an angry voice. However, she did not understand its content.

Elmyra returned to the second floor and seemed exhausted.

"Ahhhhh..." She let out a deep sigh.

"That was Carlo Kinky. That man, he's a special one. Other guests are normally just decent and quiet."

↞↠

Aerith was assigned to the room of Gabriel Gainsborough, who built the house, and that was his room where he had recuperative medical treatment until two months prior. It was tidied up and smelled clean. She didn't feel any hints of death.

"I don't really think it has a good atmosphere, but I don't have any other rooms. Nope, I have one, but I'll have to clean it up."

Elmyra felt apologetic. However, Aerith didn't care about it. In fact, she even felt a welcoming-like feeling from the room.

That night, Ifalna appeared by her bedside.

"I'll be supporting Elmyra being fond of you, okay?"

Ifalna laughed, but that smile had some kind of tiredness in it. It was the same smile as when she was walking in the slums.

"How did you come here?"

"It’s not that I came here, but we're always together because we are connected."

Aerith felt her mother's hand on her forehead. And before long, she slept with peace in her mind.

Ifalna appeared the next night too.

"How was today? I wonder if you got along with Elmyra."

"Hmmm... I don't know. Elmyra made breakfast, brought it to me, and we ate together. At that time, she made bread for me for lunch. She went out after that and then came back around dinner time. But, she seemed tired. That's why we didn't talk much. I can't get along with her. What should I do?"

"It's alright. Elmyra is having it rough now. But, I think you can help her. "

"What should I do?"

"When she wants to cry, stay with her and cuddle close together. It's the same as when I was here."

"... Mom, was there a time when you wanted to cry?"

"I probably did a few times..."

Scene 9

"I'll explain this," Aerith changed her tone to an excuse-like manner.

Tifa seemed to be in an absorbed-like state.

"When I was a kid, I thought that it was a dream, and I thought I was just talking in a dream, but that's not it."

"Um.... What do you mean by that?"

"It's one of the powers of the Cetra. We can be one with the floating life of the Planet. Through this life, and though it seems there are various conditions, we're able to communicate with people whom we're separated from."

"That's amazing, isn't it?"

“Right? It gets more different than you think. But I can't do it anymore. I can feel something when I go to a deep place, but usually not at all."

"I see."

"Like happiness and sadness. But, I have been through a lot due to this power when I was a kid. Well, I must be a strange kid, aren’t I?"

↞↠

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#ffvii ff7 ffviir ff7r ff7ln ffviiln

[izzyspussy]

1 & 5 for both Gammafrost and Stozier 😊

What’s the first thing they usually do to get the other’s attention?

"Staaaaannnleyyyyy," Richie whines. He's hanging upsidedown over the side of the bed, his hair floating down from his head like brown fire, glasses held onto his face by his brow more than nose. He's said Stan's name about ten thousand times in the last five minutes.

"You're like a toddler," Stan says, keeping his tone perfectly level. Stan's facing away from him, finishing up the paper he has due on Thursday. The ugly beige keyboard keys thock thock thock under his fingers, and Richie can't see his helpless dimples.

"Stanley, St-St-St-Stanley," Richie says, and starts beatboxing very badly. It doesn't take long before Stan can't take it anymore, bursting into giggles and whirling around in his desk chair to dive across the room and wrestle Richie onto the bed upright.

How would they react if the other told them “I love you” or “I trust you”?

The first time Loki tells Bruce he trusts him, it seems like a joke. He says 'against his better judgment' and Bruce laughs. As if, first of all, Loki has any better judgment to go against. And as if, foremost, it wouldn't - if it were genuine - be the other way around. Loki smirks along of course, and he's perfectly convincing and Bruce doesn't see through him for an instant, not until hindsight shows him better. Loki's a very good liar, is the thing. And dishonesty is a skill, not a talent; it's only practice that makes it perfect.

The second time Loki tells Bruce he trusts him, Bruce doesn't think he heard him right. He's on the edge of sleep, Loki playing idly with his hair, weaving smooth glittering strands of magic into coarse brown and grey. He dreams about Loki's voice, words unintelligible but the tone clear, storytelling, egging him into mischief. But those dreams are ten a penny nowadays.

The third time Loki tells Bruce he trusts him, Bruce finally grasps it for the truth that it is. He doesn't respond then, because he knows that Loki would defenestrate him - or worse, disappear without a trace - if he simply said it back automatically.

"It's not unconditional," Bruce decides more than a month later, a non-sequitur while he sits fully clothed on the edge of the tub watching Loki luxuriate because he has nothing better to do (high praise). Loki hums to show he's listening, tucking damp lavender sprigs into his ink black wet hair.

"Trust," Bruce clarifies. He dips his fingers into the warm water, letting it soften his calluses. "You're a liar. I can't necessarily trust you to be honest." Loki watches him warily, just his eyes above the soap-frosted water.

"But," Bruce says, firmly. "I trust you to be... right." Beneath the water, Loki smiles, and lets Bruce see it in his eyes.

And then he flicks his fingers and sends half of the bathwater out to crash over Bruce's head.

#jack facts #it #stozier #marvel #my fic #jack chats

[marvelslut16]

The sketchbook

Prompt number: 27 “give me that”

Fandom: IT

Paring: Stanley Uris x reader (aged up to juniors in high school)

Rating: T

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: Bullying. Swearing I think. Mentions of a boner. The use of the word flamer. 

A/N: It’s a short one today boys and ghouls. I wasn’t super motivated and energetic during the day and SNL started tonight, so priorities lmao. Anywho, enjoy day three of fictober. Also it’s spooky season so my brain is stuck on IT.

You had been encouraging Stan to become an artist since the start of freshman year when he finally worked up the nerve to show you his sketches of the birds he watched for hours on end. Each drawing was done with so much love and care, the thickness of each pencil stroke clearly thought out beforehand, and the birds looked so real they would fly off the page if you left the book open long enough. Stan never believed your praises, claiming you had to say it because you’re his best friend, and said that being an artist wasn’t a suitable and reliable career. So he never took art as an elective, always accounting. 

Now almost done with your junior year of high school Stan always seems to be sketching in his book, running out of pages in a mere month. One day in english class you peer over his shoulder and see the most realistic drawing of an eye you have ever seen. Just looking at it you can tell that the imaginary person the eye belongs to is laughing, there’s an unmistakable sparkle to it and the eye scrunches slightly. 

Noticing that the pages are running low, and knowing that his dad won’t buy him another sketchbook anytime soon, you take your saved up allowance to buy Stan the thickest and best sketchbook the art store has to offer. Bev teases you relentlessly for being so obvious about your feelings, and the boys tease Stan for blushing when you give him the present. The losers were always trying to see what Stan is sketching, upset that you’re the only one he shows, but he doesn’t even show you over half of the drawings he’s done.

He leaves his sketchbook closed and off to the side at lunch, usually helping you with last night's math homework while the losers eat. Usually nobody touches said book, but today Richie is feeling particularly troublesome. The boy with the glasses is giddy because he and Eddie finally kissed and they're going out on their first date tonight, so the trashmouth shows his happiness by being invasive with everyone else. The boy had already ruffled through your backpack earlier in the day and stole a smoke from Bev. Richie’s long fingers wrap around the book, neither you nor Stan notice until the book is being pressed firmly to Richie’s chest and away from your grasp. 

“Where’s my book?” Stan asks a few minutes later, pushing the math homework and lunch trays roughly. 

“Oh you mean this?” Richie smirks, confidently holding the sketchbook up between his thumb and index finger.

“Give it back to him Richie,” you roll your eyes, you know that even in his mood Richie won’t actually flip through the book. Luckily for every loser, Richie had learned which lines not to cross over the years. 

“Or I could just take it,” Henry’s victorious laugh seems to reverberate off the walls of the lunchroom as he grabs the sketchbook from Richie’s fingers. Richie looks panicked and like he’s about to vomit at the turn of events, beside him Eddie’s face scrunches up in disgust at all of the germs being collected on the leather-bound book. 

“Give me that back,” Stan’s voice goes up in active, quickly standing from his seat. His attempts at reaching for the sketchbook are futile, Bowers only backing away further or raising his arms up and out of Stan’s reach.

“It looks like Uris here isn’t a flamer after all,” Bowers laughs, his friends joining in, as he flips through the pages filled with Stan’s beautiful artwork. “He’s got a creepy little crush on (Y/L/N), I bet he gets a boner drawing these!”

“Give him the book back Henry,” your voice is hard and annoyed. You don’t let his taunts get to you, there was no way Stan was actually drawing you. 

“Look at this one!” Bowers ignores you as he laughs louder, pointing out a picture to his friends. “(Y/L/N) you look good in a swimsuit.” 

Before you can respond, Stan launches himself at Henry, successfully grabbing the sketchbook and tearing it from the bully’s grip. Luckily none of the pages ripped, each drawing still in perfect condition. You try to get Stan to meet your eyes, you want to know if he really was drawing you, but he refused to meet your gaze as he packed up his bag. Stan doesn’t say a word to anyone, instead he slings his bag over one shoulder and quickly leaves the cafeteria. Bowers and his friends are laughing in delight, you’re too focused on the boy in his khakis, baby blue button up shirt, and his mop of curls receding figure to yell at Henry. 

“Bail me out of detention,” you look Richie in the eye as you say this, knowing he’s the only one with the skills to get you out of there. You quickly stand from your own seat and grab your bag, following Stan into the boys bathroom you just watched him disappear into. 

You hear quiet sniffles when you push the door to the bathroom, said sniffles stop once the door creaks and alerts Stan that someone entered. He’s hiding in one of the stalls, his shiny brown shoes peeking out from under the stall door give him away. 

“Stan please talk to me,” you stick out a hand to push on the stall door, but it's locked and doesn't budge. You let out a little sigh, turning and locking the door to the bathroom before heading back to stand in front of his stall. “I’ll stay in here all day if I have to, please talk to me.”

“I’m sorry,” there’s a shaking in his voice that surprises you.

“Stan, baby, what are you sorry for?” you don’t notice your slip up, letting out the pet name you wish you could call him Stan unlocks the stall door, eyes wide and slightly watery as he stares at you. 

Instead of responding Stan hands you the sketchbook, letting you see every drawing for the first time. Bowers wasn’t kidding, the book is filled with drawings of you. You midlaugh, you lounging in the hammock with your showercap on, you in your swimsuit at the quarry, you looking up from a textbook when you study with him. You’re taken aback by how beautiful he’s managed to make you look, causing you to wonder if this is how he sees you. 

“Babyboy, these are beautiful,” you breathe after a few tense moments. You finally tear your eyes away from the drawings and are greeted by his bright red cheeks. “What?”

“You need to stop doing that,” he murmurs quietly, looking down at the yellowing tiles beneath his loafers 

“Doing what?” you’re head tilts to the side, you replay everything you’ve said that could make him uncomfortable. 

“Calling me baby and babyboy,” he chances a quick glance at you, before once again avoiding your gaze.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” you rush out. “I didn't realize I was saying that! And the last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable! I’m so sorry Stan-” 

“I never said you made me uncomfortable,”  courage surges through him as he takes a step closer to you and finally meets your eyes. “I like you (Y/N), if you couldn’t already tell, and I can’t listen to you call me that knowing you’ll never do it again. And I want you to do it again-”

“I like you too, Stan,” you lean in for a quick kiss to cut off his rambling, running your hands through his curls as you pull back. “My babyboy.”

Permeant tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen​ @rexorangecouny​

#stan uris x reader #fictober20 #fictober 2020 #fictober day 3 #Stan the man #stan uris #stan uris one shot #stan uris fanfiction #stan uris imagine #stanley uris #stanley uris imagine #stanley uris fanfiction #stanley uris x reader #stanley uris one shot #stanley uris fanfic #stan uris fanfic #It #it imagine #it one shot #it fanfiction

[tomthesoftie]

i was wondering if you can do a tom x reader where they are dating but no one knows yet until Harrison, the twins, Tuwaine all have their suspicions so they planned to flirt and throw compliments at her during dinner time together to get a reaction out of Tom and he gets super jealous and upset during the whole thing until he finally snaps?

their suspicions

a/n: i finally posted after such a long time omg... sorry for going on a short hiatus, just been stressed recently,,, anyways, i’m trying to work on the requests before i start anything new... also! i want to create/start an actual permanent taglist so if you want to be added to it, comment on this post or send to my inbox or use this: google forms for you to input for users! enjoy jealous!tom xx

pairing: best friend!tom x reader

warnings: jealous tom, fluff, flirtatious harrison

masterlist

You and Tom began dating in November of 2019. Before that, the two of you were close friends, stuck at each other’s sides all day and night.

Tom wanted to keep the relationship a secret from everyone, including his best friends and family.

At the beginning, no one noticed the change. Your closeness from before hadn’t changed as much, at least when you were around others. When the two of you were alone, you would have intimate moments together, giving each other chaste to passionate kisses and holding each other close. Cuddling was an exception, seeing as you already cuddled before you became a couple.

It wasn’t until quarantine that people began to notice a difference between you and Tom.

“Where’s Tom? He was supposed to help us make dinner,” Harrison asked, standing shirtless in the backyard while taking off his boxing gloves.

“He isn’t much help, though. Besides, we’ve got Sam,” Harry shrugged.

Sam laughed and patted Harry’s shoulder, “Thanks, mate.”

“Have you guys seen Y/N?” Tuwaine stepped outside of the house, looking around the backyard.

“No, what’s up?” Harry’s brows furrowed.

“She promised she would help me choose a movie for tonight,” Tuwaine frowned.

“Isn’t it strange that they’re both missing? This isn’t the first time, too,” Harrison said suspiciously, crossing his arms.

“Maybe they’re just hanging out. They are friends, you know,” Sam said while scrubbing the grill.

“I don’t know. They’re getting a little too friendly,” Harrison squinted at Tom’s window.

Tuwaine, Harry, and Harrison had newly risen suspicions while Sam stayed mutual. Sam didn’t want to invade either of your privacies. Although he always sensed a connection between the two of you, he never pushed your relationship any further than friends. If the two of you wanted to date, then you’d make the decision on your own.

-

You were cuddled in Tom’s arms, still hazy with sleep. You must’ve fallen asleep while watching a movie with him.

“Darling, you gotta get up,” his hoarse voice whispered from behind you.

“Mm, no. I don’t wanna,” you whined, eyes remaining shut.

“But you gotta. The boys’ll notice if we’re missing for too long,” he placed soft kisses to the side of your neck.

You tilted your head to give him easier access to your skin, “Let them, I don’t care anymore.”

“Darling,” he pulled away from you. He slid out from under the covers and off the bed. He walked over to the other side of the bed where you laid and sat beside your limp body. “Get up or I’ll tickle you,” he threatened. You laid under the duvet, ignoring the man hovering you. He threw the duvet off of your body and slid his hands into your shirt. His fingers began attacking your sides.

Laughs broke out of your pink lips, “St-Stop it, Tommy.”

“Then get up, princess,” he continued his assault.

“F-Fine, ju-just,” you gasped for air, “stop,” you squealed loudly.

“Alright, love,” he pulled his hands out of your shirt, smiling at your squirming figure.

“You’re mean,” you frowned at him, flipping over to get more rest.

“Y/N! You have to get up or I will carry you downstairs,” Tom said sternly.

You hummed, cuddling with yourself.

You felt his hands firmly grasp your waist, and a moment later, you were over his shoulder. You squealed and slapped his back, demanding him to put you down.

“Nope, I told you I would carry you down if you didn’t cooperate,” he lightly smacked your ass.

“Thomas Stanley Holland! Put me down this instant,” you said strictly.

He ignored you and carried you all the way down the stairs. Finally, he placed you on your feet and pushed you towards the backdoor. You glared daggers at him, flipping him off before stepping out of the house. He chuckled behind you.

“Y/N! I was looking for you! You promised you would choose out a movie with me to watch,” Tuwaine exclaimed as soon as he saw you. “What happened to your hair?” 

You heard snickering from behind you and saw Tom, Harrison, and Harry smirking at each other. 

If only looks could kill, you thought.

“I’ll be right back. Tom wouldn’t let me sleep and carried me here, thus the mess on my head,” you said, not truly knowing how bad you looked.

You walked back into the house, still able to hear Tom’s terribly hidden chuckles.

As soon as you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you freaked out. You hair was practically a nest on your head. All your clothes were wrinkled, and your mascara was smeared over your eyelids and eye bags. 

You decided that taking a shower was most efficient way to fix your predicament. 

-

“So, Tom, what were you and Y/N doing earlier?” Harrison smugly.

“Oh, we were watching a movie,” Tom shrugged nervously.

“Just a movie?” Harry’s voice arose.

“Well, we did fall asleep...”

Harry and Haz winked at each other and whispered, “Sleeping.”

They heard the door slide open and close, following the quiet steps from your flats.

“Damn, Y/N/N, what’re you dressing up for?” Tuwaine chuckled.

“Dress up? This is my casual outfit,” you smiled at your friend.

“Casual for a date night,” he added, then gasped, “Are you going on a date tonight?”

All of the boys, including Tom, looked at you.

“What? No,” you laughed, flustered, “I’m staying with you guys tonight. Bros over hoes, am I right?”

‘So that means you’re single, right?” Harrison spoke up.

Tom’s gaze snapped over to face his best mate.

“Y-Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” You laughed nervously.

“Have I ever told you how gorgeous you look, whether you look like a mess or not,” the blonde moved closer to you.

“Thanks, Hazza,” you blushed, replying awkwardly.

Harry and Tuwaine eyed Harrison confusingly. Harrison winked at them, and they smirked at each other in realization. 

“Yeah, Y/N/N, you look absolutely breathtaking tonight, though you look breathtaking all the time,” Tuwaine intervened.

“Maybe I should take you out tonight,” Harry grinned at you, “After all, you are single, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yeah, I am.”

Tom ears were tinted with a bright red. 

“Leave the girl alone, guys,” Sam finally said, attention still on the food on the grill.

“Buzzkill,” Harrison sang.

Harry and Tuwaine laughed.

“You can sit by me tonight, if you want that is,” Harrison whispered in your ear as he walked by.

You felt extremely hot and embarrassed. Your cheeks were surely as red as Tom’s ears. 

-

Sam had finished making the meal, so you had to choose a seat.

“Y/N, come sit here,” Harry patted the seat beside you.

“No, Y/N/N, come sit with me,” Tuwaine smiled warmly.

“Ignore those divs. The space on my lap is lonely, you should come give it some love,” Harrison smirked.

The comment made your pink once more, and you hid behind Tom. Tom was shaking with fury and jealousy.

“She’ll be sitting beside me,” Tom said sharply.

You shyly sat beside your boyfriend, gaze glued to the floor.

“So, Y/N, I’ve been thinking,” Harrison began, “We’ve known each other for a while now, and I’ve always felt this connection between us. I was wondering if you wanted more in our relationship.”

Sam audibly sighed but continued to eat his meal.

Your eyes widened. You only ever saw Harrison as a brother, just like Harry, Sam, and Tuwaine.

“I- um...” you began, only to be cut off by the brunette beside you.

“No, she doesn’t,” Tom growled.

You felt his hand grip your thigh, and his lips attached to yours. He passionately kissed you, biting your bottom lip for entrance. You gently pushed him away, embarrassed at his display of affection.

“Ha! What did we tell you Sam! They are dating after all,” Harry cheered happily.

“What?” Tom asked cluelessly.

“They thought that you guys were acting suspicious, so they came up with this “plan.” I told them otherwise because, unlike them, I respect your privacy,” Sam glared at the other boys.

“We’re his best mates though, why wouldn’t he tell us?” Harry whined to his twin.

“Ask him,” Sam shrugged.

“We wanted to keep it a secret from everyone to avoid drama. You know how the press gets,” Tom sighed.

“Besides, we liked the secrecy and privacy we had, but it feels relieving now that you guys know,” you spoke after a while, finally calmed down from the situation.

“Sorry for the flirting, just trying to get results,” Haz chuckled.

Tom glared at his best mate.

“Once you divs get a girlfriend, you’ll understand why they did what they did,” Sam said slyly.

Harry, Haz, and Tuwaine yelped at the smirking twin with anger.

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tomholland #tomhollandimagine #tomhollandfanfiction #tomhollandfluff #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tomhollandangst #tom holland x reader #tom holland x reader imagines #tom holland x reader imagine #tom holland x reader angst #tom holland x reader fluff #reader insert #harry holland #sam holland #harrison osterfield #tuwaine barrett #harrison osterfield x reader #fluff #angst #best friend!tom holland #best friends to lover #au #best friends to lovers au

[multi-fandom-writer]

Not Planned - Tom Holland

Masterlist

word count: 1.8k warnings: little bit of angst if you look hard enough

Six months. You and Tom had been trying for a baby for six months. When it felt hopeless and you two were ready to give up, a little plus finally appeared on the stick. Tom could not have been more ecstatic about it, either. Whenever possible, his hands drifted down to your stomach to draw little patterns. Of course, he always looked at you for permission first. He knew you were excited too, but he was also very familiar with your mood swings.

You still remember telling Tom about the pregnancy. You decided to get a shirt that said “Baby loading, eight months remaining” and surprise him one night before bed. He was just finishing brushing his teeth in your bathroom as you walked in wearing the shirt. He noticed you were wearing a new shirt at first, but didn’t take the time to notice it. In his usual fashion, he was oblivious to it until you pointed it out to him. You didn’t expect him to pick you up and spin you around like he did, but you were excited nonetheless. He was so ecstatic that he peppered your face in kisses and even fell to his knees to plant kisses all over your belly.

Since that night, Tom seemed much more attentive to you. He would get you water without another question and wouldn’t dare to fight with you over what the two of you would be having for supper. Even though he couldn’t be there in person all of the time, he would always call you and check in on you to make sure you were doing okay.

The first three months went by faster than you thought they would. Between the morning sickness that lasted all day, your ankles that were close to the size of Pluto, and your tummy that was just slightly swollen, you couldn’t wait to meet the little bundle of joy. Almost every morning of your first trimester, Tom was by your side holding your hair back. Most nights before bed, he would be there to give you a back rub. He didn’t even question your weird cravings. You knew that every woman’s stomach grew differently during pregnancy but you thought you were a little big for only being in the first trimester. Tom simply assured you that everything was okay, and you two would ask the doctor about it at the next appointment. 

Sometime in the second semester, baby Holland started preferring Tom’s voice over yours. More often than not, Tom would lay down between your legs at night and inch your shirt up just enough so he could see your bump. Both you and the baby would often fall asleep to Tom’s gentle voice and his soft kisses being littered all over your stomach. Tom also enjoyed resting his hand over your stomach to feel all of the little flutters from your healthy baby. 

Tom was overjoyed to learn that you two would be having a baby boy. Setting up the nursery was quite the adventure for the two of you. It took Tom and Harrison a total of five hours to finally put the crib together and put it in the room. And of course, Tom insisted that his little boy would have a Spiderman plushy, which you allowed. 

“What would you have done if our little peanut was a girl, Thomas?” you asked as he hugged you from behind in the doorway of the now completed nursery.

“Simple, I would have gotten her a Spiderman plushy,” he answered with a light chuckle, resting his hands over your large bump and planting gentle kisses over the side of your neck. As you melted into Tom’s warm grasp, he whispered, “are you as exhausted as I am, sweetheart?”

With a small nod, you spun around so you could rest your head on his chest. “Does a warm bath sound nice, darling?” Another nod as Tom lightly kissed the top of your head.

It wasn’t until near the end of your second trimester that one of the boys dared to point out how big you were getting. Poor Harrison happened to bring it up when you were tired and in a sour mood. By the time you were done yelling at him, which you did feel bad about later, you were almost certain he would be walking on eggshells around you at least until you gave birth. The other boys were definitely more cautious around you, too. Except for Tom, who was used to you being more irritable than normal.

At your next ultrasound though, Harrison happened to be right. At eight months, you and Tom learned that instead of one baby boy, you would be welcoming two sweet little boys into the world. The doctor explained that the second baby happened to be in just the right position to be hidden by the first baby and they must have moved around since the last ultrasound.

For the next month, you and Tom were running around like chickens with your heads cut off. Two babies meant twice the toys, twice the clothes, twice the diapers, and half the sleep. Both of you had your moments of utter excitement and complete pandemonium. Having one baby would have been a handful, but two? You both were in for quite the ride. 

Since the boys already figured out how to put the first crib together, this time it only took them two hours and they were quite proud of themselves when they were done. Not only did you let Tom to rest his hands on your stomach, but very rarely you allowed Harry, Sam, and Harrison to do it, too. After all, they deserved to feel the tiny humans moving around as well. Of the three of them, Harrison was definitely the most hesitant to ask you if he could; he was still a little scared of you from earlier in your pregnancy. 

Just two days after you got the second crib set up, your babies decided they were going to make an early appearance. You and Tom were having a movie night with the other boys when you felt a light cramping in your stomach. It wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle, but you became concerned when your lower back started to ache, too. 

“Tom?” you whispered, drawing his attention away from the movie. His hand was still resting firmly on your swollen stomach as he gave you a soft look. The poor boy had already been exhausted from the day and he was almost ready to pass out. Even though he looked like he could drop dead, he still perked up when he looked at you. “I think it’s time,” you whispered, this time a little more strained as what you could only assume was a contraction hit you. 

Tom instantly went into dad mode. It took him two minutes to find the keys and grab the hospital bag from your shared bedroom. When he had gotten back to the living room, you had barely managed to stand up from the couch. The two of you had gotten the attention from the other boys by this time. Tom hurriedly explained to them what was going on before he ushered you to the car and got you to the hospital. 

Fortunately, you were only in labor for five hours before you could hear the cries of your two baby boys. Tom was by your side the entire time, only slightly complaining about your vice like grip. After the delivery, Tom brushed your hair off your sweaty forehead and planted a kiss on the top of your head. “You did amazing, love. Our sons are beautiful,” he whispered, wiping your forehead with a cool cloth. “‘M so proud of you, sweetheart. I love you so much.”

A tired smile graced your lips at his encouragement. “Can I see them?” you asked, looking over to the sleeping babies. They were sleeping little angels right now. You only hoped that they grew up to be little angels. 

“Of course you can,” Tom answered, walking over and carefully picking up one of the peaceful babies. As he walked over to you, you noticed how small the baby was in Tom’s arms. You took your son from Tom and he went to get the other half of your twins. “What should we name them?” he asked, sitting down in the chair next to your bed.

“I like the name Theodore James,” you suggested, looking down at the small human cuddling into your chest. Tom’s eyes got wide as he looked at you. ‘Yes, I know Harrison’s middle name is James. It only seems right, Tom.”

He nodded quickly and looked down at the child in his arms. “What about Robert for this little guy?” he asked with a soft voice.

“I like that one. But he needs a middle name still,” you replied as Tom cooed at the yawning child. “I think it should be Stanley because he has his father’s looks,” you said. “Just look at those chubby cheeks,” you continued with a small chuckle. 

Your conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. Looking through the window, you saw a group of three smiling boys. You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face as you motioned for them to come in. 

“Oh look at our adorable little nephews,” Sam cooed as he came into the room. “Have you decided on names yet?” he asked, watching Theodore cuddle further into you. 

“We have, actually,” you started, looking over to Harrison. “Come here, Haz.” As the tall blond boy hesitantly walked over to you, his eyes landed on the small child in your arms. You held out the baby to Harrison as you said, “This little guy is Theodore James Holland.”

You could see Harrison’s eye light up as he took Theo in his arms. “He’s so sweet,” Harrison whispered, starting to sway as the baby started whining a little. With a small lullaby from Harrison, Theo was already calmed down, now cuddling into Harrison’s warm body. “I love him already,” Harrison spoke softly as Theo yawned and fell back asleep. 

“What about this little guy?” Harry asked, carefully rocking the other baby.

“We decided on Robert Stanley Holland for that little guy,” Tom answered with a proud smile. As the boys were cooing over your newborn sons, you felt the sleepiness starting to wash over you. As you let your head fall to the side, your eyes landed on the first love of your life. “Get some sleep, beautiful momma. You deserve it, sweetheart,” Tom’s voice was soft as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. Drifting off, you heard the boys talking about how Theo and Robert were going to be football and golf proteges.

“Yeah, Y/n always complained about little Theo being quit the footballer. She said his favorite thing to kick was her rib cage,” Tom spoke with a chuckle. You could only imagine the four men playing with your little boys as they grew up: teaching them football, getting them addicted to video games, introducing them to superheros, and so much more.

#tom holland x reader #tom holland flluff #tom holland #dad!tom #my writing #tom holland imagine

[cocastyle]

Change - Ch. 2 | F O U R

Pairing - Bill Denbrough x reader

Word Count - 5,290

A/N - it’s been so long and I am so sorry for that, but here is the next chapter for Change!! I’ve been super busy the past couple of weeks with AP exams, a college class my school is letting me take early, and I’ve had a tiny bit of writer’s block. but I’m back and hope to be writing more updates really soon! let me know what you all think so far and I’m sorry in advance for the tears this chapter :((

if you would like to be added to the tag list for this series let me know!

C H A N G E

Change Series Masterlist

* - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - *

F O U R - Unwanted Answers

* - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - *

An inhuman like sob escaped Y/N's lips as she stared at the paper shaking her head. Before anyone could even blink, she was stumbling up out of her chair, almost knocking her chair over by her clumsy movements. The woman continued to shake her head while Bill quickly reached out to steady her, but the girl shook in his grasp.

"I can't breath. I can't breath," Y/N gasped, tears falling down faster now as it felt like her throat was closing. "This isn't happening. There's no fucking way this is happening."

"Y/N," Bill firmly said, his voice being enough to have the girl's eyes snap over to look at him while he grabbed her arms and held her steady. He gave her a look and subtly glanced over at Grayson who was staring at the papers with tear filled eyes and Y/N flinched. "You need to keep it together," Bill whispered.

Y/N knew he was right, but how could she when her cousin's life was on the line? All she could think about was how she had left him behind. She should've stayed. She should've gone to his house and checked on him before It could do anything.

But then there was Grayson. Her son who had spent his whole life growing up with her and Stan watching over him. Stan, the one who always bought new puzzles for the two to work on. Stan, the one who would bring Grayson to the book store before the two would spend hours reading together.

Stan may have been her cousin and best friend, but he was Grayson's Uncle Stanley and right now he didn't understand what was going on. Y/N needed to be there for him, even if she was terrified more than ever.

Numbly nodding to Bill, Y/N gently shook out of his grasp before going over to Grayson and placing a hand on his shoulder. Grayson instantly leaned into her touch, his eyes still focused on the papers before he looked up at his mother and then the rest of the group in panic.

"Why does it say Stanley?" Eddie finally asked, breaking the tense silence that had fallen upon the group. No one responded and Eddie clenched his jaw before looking around with wide eyes full of panic. "Someone else fucking answer me!"

Before anyone could, the whole table shook. "Holy shit," Eddie muttered before the table jerked again. Grayson was up on his feet in no time, Y/N wrapping an arm around him as they slowly began to back away while Bill inched in front of them to block them from whatever was coming.

"What the fuck," Grayson whispered as soon as his eyes locked on the bowl of fortune cookies that were all trembling. Y/N inhaled sharply, the arm in front of Grayson pushing him back a bit more as a fortune cookie flew out of the bowl and landed on the table in front of them.

Beverly let out a small yelp while Y/N took another step back. She had a really bad feeling about this and it seemed she was right because at that moment the fortune cookie broke a bit to reveal some sort of creature coming out of the cookie as if it were an egg.

Everyone jumped back and Richie stared at the thing with wide eyes of disbelief before saying, "What the fuck is that, man?"

The fortune cookie broke some more as a creature crawled out. Y/N barely even had time to process what the hell the thing was before it let out a cry that sounded a lot like a baby. In fact, the head of creature looked like the head of a baby, its body a different creature that Y/N could not decipher at the moment due to her own fear.

"Woah. Woah."

"What the fuck?"

And if things couldn't get anymore creepier, the baby insect looking thing grew wings. Grayson was gripping onto his mother's arms in pure fright now, everyone jumping back again as the creature began to run across the table.

"Shit!" Richie muttered, more fortune cookies falling onto the table and opening up to reveal different creatures like an eye with tentacles. "Hey! Hey! That fortune cookie's looking at me!"

"Mom!" Grayson cried out as two fortune cookies broke open to reveal winged creatures resembling those of decaying birds. The Uris' didn't know what was happening to the others because before they could even blink the two demon birds flew straight towards them. Y/N and Grayson both yelled out in terror, the woman wrapping her arms around her son as she tried to shield him with her body while they stumbled back into a corner.

Y/N tried swatting at the creatures, but they only grew closer and closer until all she could do was bury her face into Grayson's shoulder as the two continued to yell and cry out.

It took a moment for the two creatures to finally fly away, but even then Y/N shouldn't have pulled her head away to look at what was happening. Her eyes widened in horror and Grayson was practically shaking in her arms, the two trying to come to terms that some burning goo was devouring the table while floating heads and blood filled the fish tanks around them.

"It's not real!" Mike exclaimed, but it was hard to believe him when everything looked pretty real to them.

"Y/N, watch out!" Beverly exclaimed before the flying creatures came back at them again.

Y/N screamed and Grayson had started to cry as they ducked further into the corner, Mike beginning to hit the table with a chair as he cried out, "It's not real! It's not real!"

"Everything alright?" a soft voice ask and all at once it was like everything had stopped.

Grayson was still shaking in his mother's grasp, the woman not quite better than him as she looked up with a tear stained face. The creatures, goo, and fortune cookies were all gone. In fact, the room looked completely normal except for the fact that a few things on the table were broken from Mike having whacked them with his chair.

By the doorway stood their waitress for the evening and she looked around at the group with wide eyes while Grayson let out a small sob and hugged his mother, muttering, "What the fuck? What the fuck?"

Richie glanced over at the young boy, his eyes softening as he realized Greyson was now exposed to the horrors Richie wished he could forget. Swallowing thickly, he looked to the waitress and tried to act natural as he said, "Yeah. Yeah. Could we get the check?"

The waitress hesitantly nodded before walking out, leaving the group to their stunned silence. It was only when Y/N and Bill locked eyes that the girl broke the silence with a gasp, her eyes wide as she whispered out.

"Stanley."

- - -

"This is what Pennywise does, right? He fucks with us," Eddie muttered as the group hurriedly walked towards the exit of Jade of the Orient. "Stanley's probably fine."

Waiting for the check had given them all enough time to calm down enough to where they were more just hyper aware of everything around them instead of shaking and crying.

In fact, the adults were pissed. Whether that was because of Mike or Pennywise was still unclear.

Grayson was disturbingly quiet, his eyes on the floor while he stuck by his mother's side. He had never been this clingy before, but Y/N couldn't blame him. After all, that's why she was practically riding the heels of her friends as they hurried out of there.

Y/N's thoughts were consumed with Pennywise and Stan. She needed to call her cousin as soon as they got out of there. She needed to know he was okay. He may as well be. After all, It did like to mess with them. Stan could be absolutely fine and on his way here right now for all they know. There was no use panicking until she heard confirmation that something had happened.

"Eddie's right," Y/N said, her voice soft but hopeful as it had to be. "I'll. . .I'll call Stanley. Uh. . .Gray, could I borrow your phone? I left mine at home."

Grayson didn't even respond, just handed his phone over to his mother who stared at him for a moment before glancing at Bill. The two both shared a look before Bill reached out and placed a hand on Grayson’s shoulder. The boy flinched almost instantly, but relaxed once his eyes locked with Bill's and gently leaned into his touch as much as he did his mother's.

"Hey, Richie!" a young voice called out causing everyone to freeze before turning to see a young boy around the age Georgie Denbrough had been when he died. His curly hair fell in front of his eyes, but he didn't seem to care as he looked up at the man.

"How'd you uh. . .how'd you know my name?" Richie asked, growing a little tense while both Eddie and Y/N rushed to stand on either side of the man. Richie relaxed a bit with the two by his side, but kept staring at the boy warily.

"The fun's just beginning," the little boy said, his words making Y/N's eyes widen as she gently reached out and grabbed onto Richie's arm. The little boy grinned up at them. "Right?"

Richie took a step closer to the boy and before Y/N could go with him, Eddie had grabbed ahold of the girl and pulled her back, a panicked look on his face as the two desperately tried to calm themselves down.

"Listen. You think this is funny?" Richie asked. "Alright, you think this is some sort of game? Huh?" He grabbed ahold of the boy's shoulder and pointed at him. "Well fuck you, alright! Fuck you! I'm not afraid of you!"

The little boy stared at Richie, his face contorting in confusion as he hesitatingly leaned back. "The fun's just beginning? The line from your act, dude. I'm a fan," the little boy said and instantly the group all relaxed.

"Oh my," Y/N whispered, not being able to stop herself from letting out a soft chuckle while Eddie lightly whacked her in a way of telling her to be quiet. She shot him a look and Eddie in turn shot her a sheepish smile before the two looked at Richie whose face had fallen in guilt.

"Are those your parents?" Richie asked as he pointed towards a couple who was walking towards them with angry expressions and a young girl by their side.

"Yeah," the boy said and Richie stared at him blankly before asking, "Do you want a picture?"

"I think I'm good," the boy told him before turning and hurrying over to his parents' side while they glared at Richie.

"Okay, cool," Richie muttered before looking at the parents and smiling nervously. "Good kid." The family walked away and Richie turned to his friends who were all looking at him in disbelief.

"Jesus, Rich," Ben said making Richie sigh in frustration. "You don't remember a line from your own show?"

"I don't write my own material," Richie mumbled as the group began to head towards the door, Y/N dialing Stan's number into Grayson's phone as fast as her shaking hands allowed her. Eddie's eyes widened and he let out an almost victorious laugh at Richie's words.

"I fucking knew it! I fucking knew it!"

- - -

For a long as Y/N could remember, it had always been her and Stan. It was her and Stan who had been bird watching in the early morning since they were younger, having woken up way before their parents every morning and sneaking out to the back yard as the sun began to rise. It was her and Stan riding on his bike through town, Y/N's arms out in the air as she yelled out in pure joy while Stan chuckled as he looked back at her.

It was her and Stan on their nights when they were at their lowest like when Y/N's parents got their divorce or when Stan got yelled at by his father for walking out on his bar mitzvah. From little moments such as eating breakfast together in the morning to big moments like when Y/N first had Grayson, the two had been by each other's side.

There was no way they could ever forget about each other like they had with the others simply for the reason that they were two halves of a whole and had been for their whole lives. Everyone knew that, especially the Losers who had seen the way Y/N and Stan interacted with each other when they were younger.

So the moment Grayson's phone slipped from Y/N's hand, the device hitting the ground so hard that she was lucky to not have cracked it and a heartbroken wail leaving her mouth as she began to fall to the ground, everyone knew what had happened.

Y/N couldn't breath, her hands clawing at her throat as her sobs wracked her whole body. She couldn't keep herself standing, her legs giving out as she began to fall down to the ground. Bill was there to catch her, his arms instantly wrapping around the girl and helping her to softly reach the ground as she desperately tried to grab onto something to keep her steady.

Not even Bill was able to help her for it still felt like the world was being ripped from underneath her feet as she fell further and further down a black hole, the crushing realization that her cousin, her best friend, her Stanley, was gone hitting her so hard she swore she saw stars.

Stanley Uris was dead.

Y/N couldn't stop herself from sobbing long enough to explain what was going on, so Beverly was the one to move forward and pick up the phone before shakily putting it to her ear.

"Hello? Uh, Mrs. Uris, my name's Beverly Marsh. I'm an old friend of your husband's," Beverly said. There was a silence as the red head listened on the other end of the line before her eyes widened and she glanced at Grayson.

Grayson stared back at her, his eyes beginning to fill with tears as he shook his head. Beverly just gave him a sad look and that was when the boy broke down. He let out a heartbroken sob much like his mother and Ben was quick to go over to the boy and hug him, Grayson holding back onto him almost desperately as he cried.

"When did it happen?" Beverly's voice rang through the air, but neither Grayson nor Y/N could focus on what she was saying as they cried. "In the bathtub," Beverly whispered in unison with Party as if she knew about the incident before it happened.

Those words were enough to make Y/N sob harder, her cries loud and haunting as Bill tried to keep her steady while fighting his own tears. It felt like a part of Y/N had died and everything felt so unreal that she could barely think straight and didn't even notice Beverly had hung up the phone.

Y/N had never felt more defeated in her life and the moment she noticed Grayson crying against Ben's chest as the older man hugged him, she felt even worse.

"Stanley," Eddie finally said once Y/N's sobs had quieted down enough that they could speak. "Pennywise knew. He knew before we did."

"We have to stop him. I have a plan," Mike announced as he pat his hand against a book, but his words were enough to snap Y/N out of her misery long enough to stand up in pure anger and disbelief.

"You're kidding, right? Tell me that you're fucking kidding right now, Mike," Y/N insisted, tears rolling down her face as she stared at her friend with red eyes. She was shaking in pain and anger, her body on the verge of another breakdown.

Bill was back up on his feet behind her and he placed a hand on her shoulder, the girl turning and looking at him with a totally defeated look on her face as more tears fell. It took all of Bill not to break down at the sight of her. He was already upset about the death of his friend, but something about seeing Y/N look so lost and broken pushed him towards the edge.

"I got a plan. Get the fuck out of dodge before this ends worse than one of Bill's books. Who's with me?" Richie asked before him, Eddie, and Y/N all raised their hands.

"We made a promise to each other," Mike reminded them, his voice desperate.

"So then let's. . .unmake the promise!" Richie suggested.

"Richie, other people are going to die," Ben told them, both Y/N and Grayson flinching at his statement while Ben continued to keep a comforting arm around the young Uris boy.

"Other people die every day, man!" Richie exclaimed and Y/N hated to say it, but he was right. Stan's death had hit her when she least expected it. She couldn't bare to lose her son or the Losers because they were stupid enough to try and fight the clown who had been terrorizing them since they were kids. "We don't owe this town shit! Plus I just remembered I grew up here like two hours ago, so I'm fucking leaving. Fuck this!"

Richie turned and began to storm off while Eddie turned to leave as well. "Sorry, man. I'm. . .I'm with, Richie," Eddie said while Y/N walked over to where Ben and Grayson were.

"Y/N," Ben whispered, but she could only give the boy a teary eyed stare and a sad look before she glanced at her son.

"Come on, Gray," she whispered and her son instantly went to her side, sobbing a little harder as he held his mother. Y/N's lip began to tremble, but she somehow managed to stop herself from breaking down again as she wrapped an arm around her son and began to walk after Richie and Eddie.

"Guys, please," Mike said as he hurried after Eddie, Y/N, and Grayson.

"Listen. What? We stay. We die. That's it? I'm gonna go back to the inn. I'm gonna back up my shit and I'm gonna drive to my home. I'm sorry, man. Good luck," Eddie said as he patted Mike's arms before glancing at Y/N. The two shared a look and he whispered, "I'll see you at the inn, okay?"

Y/N numbly nodded before Eddie gave her a short nod and began to walk away. "Eddie, please. Please, Eddie!" Mike called out, but the man had already reached his car. Mike instantly turned to Y/N and hurried over to her. "Y/N, you can't leave. Please. You know we have to do this together."

The woman sighed and looked to the ground before glancing back up at her friend with tear filled eyes. "I can't," she whispered. "I'm not fucking doing this, Mike. I have a kid to worry about and I'm not about to bring him to a fight I don't even know we'll win. I can't lose anyone else, Mike." Her voice cracked and she had to take a moment to let in a shaky breath before she began to back away while shaking her head. "I'm sorry."

"Y/N," Mike pleaded, but the woman didn't stop backing up. Her eyes flickered over her friends that remained—Mike who was staring at her desperately, Beverly who sat on the ground smoking a cigarette with tears rolling down her cheeks, Ben who was giving her an almost as pleading look as Mike but with a hint of sadness hidden within, and finally Bill who had tears rolling down his face as he just stared right back at her.

Her eyes remained locked with Bill as she whispered, "I can't." Bill didn't say anything back and Y/N quickly turned before grabbing onto Grayson's arm and walking away as fast as she could.

Mike called after her, but Y/N ignored it. She knew she was in the verge of another breakdown by the way her breathing rate increased and she had to choke back her sobs. Tears blurred her vision and she kept her hand wrapped tightly around Grayson's wrist as she blindly stumbled towards her car.

Y/N let go of Grayson in order to try and unlock the car, but she failed to notice the way her son stood by her with his eyes glued to her face. "Damn it!" Y/N yelled as she struggled to open the car door. She slammed her hand against the roof of her car, a sob escaping her lips as she shakily continued to try and get her key to work.

"Mom," Grayson whispered as he hurried to her side. "Mom, stop. Just stop." His hands grabbing ahold of hers were enough to make her freeze, her head hanging low as another sob wracked through her body. Y/N lifted her head and her heart broke at the sight of Grayson staring back at her with red rimmed eyes full of tears and so much pain.

"Oh, baby. I'm so sorry," Y/N choked out, her words making Grayson break down as he fell against hers. His arms wrapped around her almost instantly as he cried against her chest and Y/N was quick to hug her son back, cradling his head as she broke down too.

The two let it all out in the parking lot that night, their anguish and heartache having them holding onto each other so tight like they were afraid they were going to lose each other. Stan Uris, Y/N's best friend and Grayson's uncle, was dead and there was nothing they could do about it. Being the type of people they were, this killed them both. It felt like another dagger to the heart and only the hug they had was enough to keep them standing up.

They cried for what seemed like forever, hidden away from the view of anyone who happened to walk by. Grayson was the first to calm down and he just held his mother for as long as she needed, knowing that she was feeling ten times the amount of pain and sadness he felt.

He had never seen any pair as close as Y/N and Stan were. Since he was little, it had always been his mother and his uncle there for him, always the pair showing up to every important event of his. Grayson had always wanted a friendship like theirs and he knew that, to his mother, losing Stan was like losing a part of herself.

Y/N eventually calmed down enough to pull out of the hug, but she kept one hand on Grayson's arm as she wiped away her tears. "Mom," Grayson said, his voice soft. Y/N hummed in response and the boy stared at her a moment before whispering, "What's It?"

Y/N tensed almost instantly, her face paling as she looked at her son with wide eyes. She was quick to shake her fear away and forced on a shaky smile as she said, "Nothing you need to worry about. We're going home and you'll never have to hear about this ever again."

Before Grayson could say anymore, Y/N managed to get her car door open and began to get in. It was time for her to push aside her sadness and mourn Stan later. Grayson was her number one priority right now and she needed to get him out of here as quick as possible before It could reach them.

"Mom, come on," Grayson tried to say, but Y/N just ignored him and climbed into the car. "Mom." She went to close the door, but Grayson was suddenly grabbing the door and forcing it open, his hand gripping onto the metal tightly as he exclaimed, "Mom!"

Y/N instantly froze before letting her gaze flicker up to her son who was standing there staring at her with an unreadable expression on his face. "Gray, honey, we need to leave," she insisted, but Grayson only let out a sigh and shook his head.

"We can't go."

Y/N blinked in surprised before giving her son a confused look. "Why not?" she asked, curious as to why he didn't want to leave after the horrors he just witnessed.

"I've never seen you as happy as you were in the restaurant," Grayson admitted, his shoulders relaxing as he gave his mother a sincere look. "I've never seen you care about people that much other than me, Uncle Stan, and Aunt Patty."

Y/N flinched at Stan's name and Grayson hesitated for a moment before kneeling down before her, his knees on the road while Y/N still sat in the car with her head lowered and her gaze on the steering wheel.

"I'm upset too and I know it's different for you, but Stan was my uncle and I know he wouldn't want you to just walk away. He took what he believed to be the easy way out, but he would never want you to just give up," Grayson said. "And quite frankly, you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if someone else got hurt because you ran away scared."

Y/N was silent and Grayson let his eyes flicker over her face before falling into her hands which were shaking in her lap. Sighing, Grayson reached up to hug her, the action making Y/N shake more as she went to hug him back.

"You don't understand, Gray," she whispered, her voice shaking almost as much as her body. "This thing—"

"Then tell me. Help me to understand," Grayson told her as he pulled away to look her in the eye. He kept his hands on her arms while Y/N stared at him for a moment.

"You shouldn't have to deal with this," Y/N finally said, a haunted look in her eyes. "No kid should."

"Mom, we're a team, remember?" Grayson reminded her, his voice steady as he gave her arms a gentle squeeze. "You've done so much for me. Let me help you this one time."

Y/N isn't sure what had her doing it, but something about the look in Grayson's eyes and his pure determination to help her and the Losers stick together was enough to have her explaining everything that happened during the summer of 1989. She told him about meeting the Losers. She told him about the missing kids and Bill's brother. She told him about the Well House, It, the fears that came to life that summer, and the promise they had made. Everything that happened that summer, she told him about.

Grayson took it all in without saying a single word. He just listened and in that moment, that was all Y/N needed. Grayson just sat there running a finger along the scar on her hand as she talked, his eyes flickering up to her every once in a while.

It wasn't long before she had told him everything, minus the parts about Bill of course since she still couldn't figure out how to tell him. A silence fell among them when she stopped talking and Y/N kept her eyes on Grayson while she felt as if she could practically see the gears shifting in his head as he tried to make sense of everything.

"Well, then I guess it seems like you know what you have to do," Grayson finally said, his eyes flickering up to meet his mother's while she gave him a confused look. "You wouldn't have made that promise all of those years ago if you don't intend on coming back. You knew that you would have to come back and protect the kids who couldn't help themselves—to prevent them from having to go through the same things you did. And that was all when you were only thirteen!"

Grayson got up onto his feet and reached down to wipe the gravel from his knees before saying, "That leaves us with only one option—stay and fight."

Y/N shook her head lightly and looked down at the scar on her hand. She was silent for a moment before whispering, "I don't know how I'm supposed to do this without Stanley."

Last time she had fought It, her cousin had been by her side every step of the way. Even when they were fighting with the others, she still had Stan. What would she do now that he was gone?

Grayson stared at his mother for a moment before reaching out and gently taking ahold of her hand with the scar so that she was forced to look up at him. He gave her a small smile before whispering, "We'll get through it how we always do—together."

Y/N squeezed her son's hand in response, a small smile appearing on her face as she felt a little bit of hope coursing through her veins. Grayson always had been able to do that, give her hope when no one else could. It was one of the things she loved most about her son.

Grayson let go of her hand and walked around the car before getting in on the other side. Before long the doors were closed and Y/N began driving towards the inn where the Losers would no doubt be trying to leave as fast as she could. Y/N knew they couldn't leave and it was going to be partially up to her to get them to stay.

Knowing this, the car ride was quiet as Y/N tried to plan her next move. However, there was a sadness looming over the car caused by Stan's death, but Y/N tried to ignore it the best she could. That was. . .until Grayson spoke up.

"Uncle Stan loved you so much, you know that?"

Y/N faltered, her eyes filling with tears once again as her heart ached. Swallowing thickly, Y/N glanced at her son to find him staring back at her with a small smile on his face and tears in his eyes.

"I know. He loved you too," she whispered back as she gently took her son's hand in her own and looked back out at the road. Grayson held her hand tight, not even caring that he was too old to still be holding onto his mother's hand.

Wiping away his tears with his free hand, Grayson smiled a bit more and whispered, "I know."

The rest of the ride was even quieter than before as they both sat there silently mourning Stan's death. However, with their hands still linked together, Y/N and Grayson knew that all this pain they felt would get better as long as they had each other by their side.

They knew that Stan would always be with them and Y/N couldn't help but be reminded of something Stan had said all those years ago.

"I know I'm a loser. And no matter what, I always fucking will be."

Even in death, Stan would still be with them. He would forever be a Loser and Y/N's best friend.

And Y/N planned to make him proud.

* * *

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