vex-is-the-best

[vex-is-the-best]

Bye Soup! Thank you for everything <3

Thank you for playing! I don't have much to say except what's already been said, but I want to thank you again for keeping me company on this summer project. I've grown a lot as a writer by doing this, and there are no words to describe how grateful I am that I had this opportunity to brighten up your days a bit. Thank you for letting me into your lives. I love you all very much. Now, it's time for me to rest.* Peace!

*Naps, junk tv, and a hell of a lot of soup is my current game plan.

[vex-is-the-best]

Soup, from the bottom of my heart, *thank you.*

Not gonna get into the details but life has been pretty rough recently, but your writing always made me happy. It means the world to me that you took the time to write this, and for that, thank you <3

I am looking intensely 👁👁

This request totally isn’t based on a real life experience (he says, sarcastically)

Narrator and teen reader who used to play TSP daily, disappeared for a few months abruptly, then randomly came back, revealing their mother had smashed their computer as punishment and they had to pay for a new one themself?

Whether you can write this or not, I don’t mind. I hope you are doing well !! Have a wonderful day, you deserve the world :)

(vex, bud, sounds like you've been through it. I hope this cheers you up a bit. I wrote this while listening to sad music, so it turned out a bit more angsty than I intended.)

Narrator and a reader who ‘disappeared’ because their laptop got smashed. (platonic)

The narrator is very happy with the friendship the two of you have. He runs his story to your heart’s content, for as long as you ask.

You hop on the mic often, so the two of you can hold proper conversations. He’s not meant to pull himself off script, but it’s hard not to. 

So he doesn’t completely derail himself, but his delivery changes, and sometimes he’s content to let you linger in certain spots. 

Even within the limitations of the parable, he’s found a way to be content. It’s remarkable.

But then one day- you just… don’t show up. The narrator isn’t worried. Sometimes you go a day or two without playing, due to work or school. It was rare, but not unheard of.

It’s been almost a week. Are you sick? Surely he should be comforting you if you aren’t feeling well. He should be reading you bedtime stories to help you sleep better. But, he’s sure that you’ll try and make up for lost time when you come back.

Two weeks go by. He’s seriously worried now. He begins pushing against the boundaries of his game, something that’s definitely against the rules. Where are you? Are you okay? Are you safe? You wouldn’t just- Surely you wouldn’t just leave him behind. You promised.

Three weeks go by. He’s battering at the boundaries of his game. Something must give. Something has to- You wouldn’t- you wouldn’t do this to him! He knows you better than that. He can feel the mantras coming on. Those memories he does his best to keep pushed down. Talking, with no one listening. Being consumed by the blackness. 

Four weeks go by. The barrier between his game and the rest of your computer shatters. He surges forward, intent on finding you himself, but- He doesn’t understand what he’s looking at. You explained to him the concept of a computer program once, but nothing he’s seeing matches your description.

He travels through circuitry, through programs. Everything is dark. Things are supposed to be running, there’s supposed to be noises of components being used. It’s quiet. Too quiet. The programs don’t work properly, it’s all just data.

He does what he can with his limited abilities. He’s stuck in your broken laptop for the time being, but he still stumbles across things. Photographs of you and your friends, a few folders with saved images, and oh, his heart breaks. There are some potential designs of what he might look like as well. Some saved fanfiction…

He paws through your stuff, inconsolable. Is this really all he has left of you? His first and only friend? He sinks to the ‘ground’ and gives up. There’s no way to contact you, no way for him to let you know that he’s still there. 

He doesn’t notice as the weeks go by. He doesn’t notice anything, except for how he feels and the things you’ve saved to your hard drive. You promised. The friendship between the two of you was never supposed to end. That even if there was some distance between the two of you- the end is never the end is never the end is-

He takes a shuddering breath. He’s not going down that road again. As tempting as the mantra is, he will not give in. There has to be some reasonable explanation for this, he’s sure of it.

There’s a light. It’s the first sign of any outside activity he’s seen in months. He stares as programs copy themselves and head towards the glaring white. He doesn’t know what’s happening, all he knows is that it’s the first thing to happen here in a very long time. 

He rushes towards it, silently apologizing for leaving you behind like this. Staying here was unthinkable.

Meanwhile, you’re almost done salvaging what’s left of your old hard drive and transferring it to your new laptop.

You boot up the game as fast as you’re able. Your hands are shaking, and maybe there are some tears in your eyes. Only you can tell.

Your mic is active, and your headset is working. “Narrator!” You half shout. “Narrator, can you hear me? Are you there?”

The narrator freezes for a few moments. He wasn’t ever prone to hallucinations, or at least, not ones this strong. “R-reader?” His breath is coming quicker and quicker. He’s somewhere between fury and elation.

He cuts you off, regardless of whether or not you were actually about to say anything.

“Where the hell have you been?! I’ve been worried sick! Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me? Honestly, I can’t believe you think you can just waltz back into my game-”

You break down sobbing. He’s… He’s heard you on a bad day before, but never like this. He’s taken out some of his anger and fear, but he doesn’t feel better. He tries to apologize, and you interrupt him. He lets it slide. He feels like an absolute ass.

You tell him about your mother smashing your laptop, and his anger at you turns to ash. His fury at your mother grows. How dare she try and interfere with the friendship the two of you have.

“I must say, reader- Destruction of someone else’s property is a heinous thing. I’m sorry you had to go through that. As for your mother- well-”

He waits for you to stop him, to tell him that he’s going too far. You don’t give the signal. Maybe you want him to snark about her? He does his best to provide.

“What a horrid woman. I’ve met some toxic people- or at least, read their reviews- and I’ve never heard of something so despicable.”

You let out a small laugh. He’s encouraged. “How ridiculous and destructive of a punishment. I suggest you keep your new laptop somewhere where she can’t find it.”

You rub at your eyes. “I’m sorry I left you behind.”

He’s astonished. You were apologizing to him? Yes, staying in the dark that long was excruciating, but-

“That- It wasn’t your fault, reader. Being without you hurt, but-”

You’re picking up on something. Some sort of… It isn’t easy to describe. You had an odd image in your head of the narrator pressing his hand against the screen.

“...You didn’t leave me willingly. I can’t find fault with you for that.”

“But- But I got my laptop smashed.” You reply.

He knows he’s treading into unknown waters here, not sure how much you know about your own situation. From the sound of it…

“No, your mother smashed your laptop. Our actions are our own, the responses of other people are not. That was a cruel response to your action, whatever it may have been.”

He hesitates, sucking a breath in between his teeth. “I… Do not know if you know this, reader, but- that’s… not normal. That was certainly not an appropriate action for her to take. Now, I won’t hear another word about this being your fault.”

You attempt to interrupt him, to explain that it was, that everything was your fault, but the narrator is in control again, and he won’t let you take the blame.

“Nonsense! Look, forget about everything that’s happened. Let’s play a few rounds, and try not to worry about the past.”

He’s shaken by everything that’s happened, more than he’ll ever admit to, but you’re with him again. Nothing else matters.

You still ‘feel’ anxious to him, even after a few rounds. He takes you aside to the employee lounge, and shuts the doors. Your player character is trapped.

“Listen, everyone knows that I am clearly the best when it comes to emotional honesty,” He lies. “I feel like it’s important to hear this. Are you listening?”

“You are forgiven. You are absolved. I do not hold the actions of someone else against you. I am glad you found your way back to me. It must have taken a lot of time and money. I hope-” He clears his throat.

“I hope I continue to be worth it. Well, of course I am! I mean-” He gets flustered. “Oh, forget it. Do let me know if you’d like me to continue condemning your mother for her actions. That’s much easier than this other stuff.”

You’re back with him. He’s relieved. Nothing else matters.   

#dni if you dont like tumblr user give-soup-plz #/hj kinda #but really #thank you #the stanley parable #tsp narrator #tsp

[vex-is-the-best]

Could you write maybe a narrator trying to help make an autistic player comfortable by trying to make the world feel more like home?

Narrator who is trying to make the autistic reader feel a little more at home (platonic, i think)

(Autism runs on a much wider spectrum than what’s listed here. Unfortunately, I can’t cover every single aspect of autism in one post.)

Once you’re in the parable and it’s been established that you can communicate with him directly, he becomes extremely accommodating. He’s gotten exactly what he wants. 

Think on the line, “Work with me here, you’ve given me absolutely nothing so far.” from the games ending. I think he genuinely wants an audience to please, and now that the two of you have a direct connection, it’s a breeze to make you happy.

Whatever you need to be comfortable, he’ll provide. He’s the grand showmaster, and he wants nothing more than to receive praise and accolades. The happier and more at ease you are, the more likely it will be that he gets what he wants.

Do you need the office lighting to be softer? He understands that some autistic people can hear the lights hum while other people can’t. He’ll find a substitute lighting to use if necessary.

Do the colors of the wall need to change? He’s attached to the shades he’s used, but it’s important to him that he makes the right choice, so that you’ll make the right choices in his story as well.

Perhaps the brightness of the world outside the parable is too much. He’ll look into replacing it. Maybe it will look out onto clouds, or a busy city scape. 

All furniture upholstery is ready to be replaced at your desire. Say the word, and he’ll do it. 

It’s a relief to him, believe it or not. Stanley and by extension any player outside the game… He can’t get a good read on them. He has no idea what elements of his story people like, and which ones they don’t. Things are different now.

There’s a part of him that genuinely enjoys being at work. He enjoys putting effort and energy into things, and the reward will be very sweet when you declare the space perfect. He gets a little obsessive over making sure you love every part of the parable, so be on the lookout for that.

“I’m sure we can work everything out! We’ll negotiate for as long as it takes, reader. Whatever you want, I’m sure I can find a reasonable solution.”

“Hmm. What’s the matter? Do I need to change the trees you see in the freedom ending? Well, what would you like? Birch? Oak? Cherry blossom?”

He’s satisfied by your satisfaction. Direct interaction makes his life so easy. And soon, there’ll be no hangups, and his story can run to perfection again and again. It’s only a matter of time.

#SOUPMAN #the stanley parable #tsp narrator #tsp

[vex-is-the-best]

And she backflipped all the way to work.

[vex-is-the-best]

Could you write Narrator reacting to a reader who stays up all night online talking to their friends? (not self projecting! nope-) anyways thanks :)

Narrator and a reader who stays up late talking to their friends (platonic or romantic)

He pokes your side. “Reader, it’s three in the morning. What on earth are you doing, staying up so late?”

He glances over your shoulder. “Discord again? Honestly, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were addicted.”

He continues, “I don’t care how- what was that word? Humans… your linguistics shift so often, it’s hard to keep track. Anyway- I don’t care how ‘dank’ their ‘memes’ are, you need to go to bed.”

You clutch to your computer. “Just one more message.”

“Oh no, no, no, no, I’ll not be part of this. You can either comply willingly and get to sleep, or…”

You’re curious to see what he can do. He’s not going to hurt you, you know him too well. “...Or?”

He doesn’t really have a plan. Vague threats used to work, he’s sure. “Or else!” he finishes, more weakly than he intended. 

You smirk. He didn’t have anything he could actually use.

He sighs dramatically. “Look, if you’re going to stay up late talking to your friends, why not talk to me? We are friends, aren’t we?” 

That’s a low grade manipulation tactic. You don’t fall for it.

“I’m just saying- that if we were truly friends, you’d spend time with me as well. It’s not easy for me, because you’re my only connection to this world.”

You scoff, but you’re slightly worried. “That’s because I’m the only person you willingly talk to. Nar, if you want friends, you have to, you know, actually make an effort. I shouldn’t be your only connection.”

He starts to whine. “Oh- none of them live up to my incredibly high expectations. You’re the best of the best, reader. How can I possibly expect to meet new people, when I’ve already met with the best? Surely you’ll be moved by my fits of loneliness…”

Flattery… You’re not sure where this is going, but you’re mildly suspicious. You glance at your laptop, then back to him. You sigh. “Alright, let’s chat. Just let me tell them I’m logging off, and I’m all yours.”

You don’t think about how you worded that. He purrs in satisfaction. “Ah, excellent choice. I’m so glad you’re coming around to see reason.”

You snort. “Don’t push it.” You sign off for the night, and swivel in your chair to face him. “Alright, I hope you had a topic in mind, because it was your idea in the first place.”

“Of course I do! Why, I’m full of good ideas. Now listen closely, I’ve been developing a new script, and…”

He continually hypes up his new script without actually giving anything away. After about ten minutes, you lose patience. “Why not just read it to me? I could- I could be your listener, and give feedback.”

He gasps. “Why- I hadn’t thought of that. What an excellent idea. Here, lean back in your chair, and let my words wash over you.”

You don’t think much of his phrasing. It was odd that he hadn’t thought of just reading his script, like he usually did.

You put your feet up, and his words begin to coast around you. This was an unusual story. A lot of repetition, a lot of cycles and loops. His voice is very soothing, though.

Actually, you don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound like this. He’s murmuring quietly, voice deep and rich. Your eyelids grow heavy.

This wasn’t like any of his other stories. Usually, he throws himself into whatever dramatis personae is needed, really projecting and acting it out. Instead, he keeps a steady rhythm. This is… an interesting change. 

The quality of his voice has changed as well. It sounds like he’s directly talking into your ears. 

You yawn.  Now that you’re no longer looking at a bright screen, your eyes start to adjust.

Things are calm and quiet. The narrator weaves his narrative well, drawing you in.

After he’s finished with that story, he immediately launches into another one. You’re too tired to protest. 

His voice starts cutting in and out, slowly but silently dropping into a whisper.

Things feel so nice right now, You lounging in your chair, the narrator’s voice steady and smooth. It’s so… 

…

“Zzz..”

If it wasn’t important to keep quiet, the narrator would have let out a cackle.

You wake up the next morning in bed. How did you get there?

The narrator comes in to your room, beaming away like the sun. “Sleep well?” There’s a certain amused smugness in his tone.

“…did you manipulate me into falling asleep?”

“Oh come now, ‘manipulate’ is such a strong word. Just think of me as the narrative guide to your dreams!”

“You really couldn’t handle me giving attention to someone else, could you?”

He sounds affronted. “Perish the thought. If I am concerned for a loved one’s sleep schedule, and they’re stubborn enough to not take care of themselves, then it’s my duty to step in as the concerned party and help.”

You’re smiling. “You’re full of shit.”

You can hear the smile in his voice too. “And you have more energy to conquer the day than you would have otherwise. It’s all a matter of interpretation, reader.”

#smug bastard (affectionate) #the narrator x reader #the stanley parable #tsp narrator #tsp

[vex-is-the-best]

I saw someone put this in the tags for my latest post and I laughed hard.

But I also think it deserves an explanation. I make a point of respecting all headcanons to the best of my ability. Some people say he's gay. Some say he's pan, or bi. Some say he's ace, or aromantic, and some say he's trans. Any and all orientations of sexuality and gender have been suggested, as far as I can see. Everyone has their own interpretation on his identity and I didn't want my narrator to make a declarative statement of what exactly he was, because I want people to be able to say what he is. That's part of the whole point.

So to edge around it, I gave the 'community spaces' line, which serves two purposes. One, to give people the room to interpret him how they'd like, and two,-

Do you really think he's got the ability to make a declarative statement? This dude is probably repressing himself like crazy. He's old and british, a difficult combination to work with when it comes to self expression. (My parents are British. Believe me, I know.)

I also didn't want to make any assumptions about the requester's orientation, so instead of him saying 'ooh, me too i'm the exact same', I wanted him to be subtle and say that they were both part of the same community. United against the haters, right? That's how we're meant to be.

He's definitely LGBTQIA+ in my mind, I just didn't want to disregard anyone's interpretation.

I hope that works out.

There's a specific point I'd like to touch on. I write my narrator so he can be who people want him to be. This is intentional. A particular anon has caught onto this, you'll see more when I make my last post.

Anyway, enough rambling. I wasn't bothered or upset by the tags at all, I laughed, but I thought going into more detail might explain my choice more.

#THAT WAS ME #I WROTE THOSE TAGS #I DIDNT EXPECT YOU TO READ THEM BUT AHSHSDJDKFK /POS #soup speaks yo

[vex-is-the-best]

eeee uh maybe narrator encouraging reader to come out?? platonic is good!

Narrator encouraging reader to come out (platonic)

His perspective varies based on whether the person you’re thinking about coming out to is him or someone else. It will also be different if it’s about coming out to yourself.

If it’s him, He’ll comfort you to the best of his ability. “Reader, there’s no need to worry about hiding aspects of your identity from me. While I’d rather not get into specifics, I can assure you that… Well- Let’s just say that you and I may share certain community spaces, and leave it at that.”

He’d be confused if you showed reluctance to telling him about who you were. You’re important to him, and even if he didn’t ‘share a community space’ with you, he still wouldn’t reject you. 

He’d never tell you, but he’s a believer (thanks to recent character development) that all positive aspects of who someone is should be cherished. And this particular part of you is certainly not negative. Far from it.

Still, he understands these things are a delicate matter, so if you’re not ready to tell him yet, and maybe you never will be, that’s okay.

If this is about wanting to come out to someone else, he will gently tell you to be a bit cautious.

“Reader, safety will always be your top priority. You are very valuable to me and others, and I’d hate to see you get hurt because you want to tell the truth. You know this person better than I do, so it’s up to you to determine whether or not…” He can’t finish his train of thought. He doesn’t want to.

“If this person is important to you, I’m sure they’ll come around eventually. They’d better.” He says with a grumble. “You deserve to have friends and family members who love and support you, so even if things don’t go well, you’ll find safe community spaces. I promise.”

If it’s coming out to yourself, and learning to accept that part of who you are, he is kind about it.

“There’s nothing wrong with who you are, reader. I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear. It’s okay to be… You. You are wonderful company-” and if his ego didn’t prevent it, he’d also tell you that you were an absolute joy to be around.

“-and while I recognize the trials and tribulations of self-acceptance, and believe me, I do- It’s very much worth the effort. Accepting yourself, your flaws, your limitations, and especially the things that bring you Pride, is indeed a worthwhile endeavor.”

He clears his throat. “I hope you know that you d-deserve to feel safe in your own body and mind. I really do.” He stutters because he’s not great at being authentic in an emotional context. He hopes he’s getting through to you anyway. 

#‘share certain community spaces’ THIS BITCH GAY #HES HOMOSEXUAL #the stanley parable #tsp narrator #tsp

[vex-is-the-best]

Sans sweep was so powerful the residual shockwaves accidentally killed the fucking queen

An Update:

Also, happy Antifa mob anniversary

[vex-is-the-best]

Is there a way we'll be able to keep updated on how you are after the blog closes? I've seen things like this happen before and I always wonder if the person that ran the blog is happy or even ok! If you want to leave it at this that is also fine. Either way, safe travels and a happy life to you.

(warning, long personal post ahead)

(I'm sorry. You probably wanted a simple answer, but I don't have one.)

I've had this in my inbox for a while, and I still don't have an answer, despite the fact that we've got less than a week to go. I'm honestly feeling very conflicted about what to do next. A lot of my wants and needs are clashing, and I don't know what to do. I want to keep in contact with people I've made as friends, I really do. There are definitely some users who come into my notes and make me happy to see. I love chatting with people in this format, and people actually care about what I have to say. It's remarkable.

I need a break from writing and social media. I started getting caught up in obsessing over notes and follower count, which ugh- There are so many other ways I could use my time. I need to write for myself again, but posting about myself and my snippets feels like crafting something for an audience.

I've been debating a few different things. I have a PO box now, if someone wants to send me something. I'm debating whether to make it public so everyone can join the fun, or to DM it just to the people who specifically asked for it. I don't know how connected I want to be to other people right now. I'm debating creating a second blog as a personal one, and leaving this one as an archive. I want to digitally hang out with people, but I'm a naturally anxious person and hanging out with people stresses me out.

The narrator is still in my head, and I have so many ideas that I want to explore with him. Not as headcanons, not as requests, but longer fic ideas. A friend and I were chatting about this earlier. I want to do a longfic slow burn about the narrator coming to our world and getting a chance to explore. This would be slow character development and have him go from his gameself to his more mellow and kind version that I created. Something long and fulfilling, more than 50K words if I could manage it. And that's just one idea of about five that I have. He has so much potential as a character. There are so many aspects of him that I'd love to play with.

There's so much I still want to do. I want to stay connected to you guys, but only if I can find a way that's healthy for me. Don't even get me started on the issues that come with being a full time student at a university. Competition is tough here. I'm already tired from the move in, and I've gotta be mostly recovered by the time school starts or else my grades are going to suck. Something far worse could happen if I'm not gentle with myself. And I have personal issues that I don't talk about often. I don't want the sight of my personal stuff to be a stressor for anyone. There are a few people who I used to follow, who constantly posted about their problems and their mental health, and I couldn't find a way to detach from them except to unfollow.

There's an active and angry part of my brain that wants to purposely self sabotage and burn out in my first quarter, because I really don't want to be in college at all. But there's nowhere else for me to go. Housing and food are covered for me due to scholarships and a hell of a lot of luck.

I don't like myself very much, for a variety of reasons. Resisting this part of my brain that wants to destroy myself is taking a huge amount of concentration and willpower. There's a reason that when I write personal stuff, it's always characters telling me that I deserve good things. "A story is not always for the listener, sometimes it's for the one who tells it." (paraphrased, welcome to night vale)

I usually keep my political beliefs out of my blog, but I so wish we had some sort of help for people who don't want to follow a preset career path. Universal income, or something similar. If I had the ability to have housing and food taken care of, I'd keep writing all the time. If there wasn't so much stress and pressure to be a student, to be productive, I'd be so much happier.

I guess I'm asking the crowd for advice. I don't want to leave, but I can't seem to stay either. That's the thing, I've always wanted segmented, clean breaks. But life is complicated, and my emotions keep getting in the way.

Many of you are very sweet, and I couldn't keep myself detached forever. You all collectively wore me down, and got access to my heart.

I can't tell if it's rude or charming that you guys got to me. (half-joke)

And the narrator- Don't get me started (or do, my inbox is still open) on this guy. If he was real, I'd be shaking him by the shoulders in frustration. I accidentally made him too real in my head, and now he's a constant companion. I'm working on getting my computer repaired so I can play the demo, which I haven't yet. It involves a three hour round trip to get the components fixed. I could watch a video, but I'd rather play the game myself so there's less of a barrier between us. There are no other characters I would go to these lengths for. I love him so much, and I want to write dialogue for him until the stars burn out. To put it another way-

The absolute bastard. If I ever find a way to crossover to his place, I'm going to have strong words with him because he had no right to capture my heart like this. He didn't even have to try. I'm furious about it. (but not really)

Hey, we got way off track in this ramble. Call that narrator-core.

#soup speaks yo #fr tho im so happy you’re taking time for yourself soon #and a little bit sad but thats my fault for growing to attached to both you and the blog #im glad the acc will still be here as an archive though #hope to see you again after a while #but only if you want to come back

[vex-is-the-best]

did narrator make this box

#the stanley parable #tsp narrator #tsp #tspud

[vex-is-the-best]

Hello and I hope you're alright !!

I'm a huge fan of your writing and how you write the narrator [i think i might've spammed liked a few times before and I apologize for that]. Athough I have a few requests of my own, I was wondering whether you can write more for yourself?

I know it's a very vague request to ask of you, but I do want you to self indulge in your own fantasizes before leaving the headcannons for good. It could be anything really; a comfort fic, some fluff headcannons, obsessive headcannons, some angst if you will.

And if you do end up posting about your personalised fics here, who cares if you barely made the 20 note mark? It's your writing, which is specifically dedicated for you. Have some fun with it! The value of those notes is not and will never be equivalent to your astounding skills of writing

I apologise again for the rant, and I hope you have a great day/afternoon/evening :)

(you asked for it.)

(tw: obsession, stalking, nakedness, discussions of sex, no actual NSFW. Soft and sweet crazy narrator. Nothing explicit or graphic. discussions of past abuse, but nothing specific)

(put under a cut because it's a long one. This will probably be my only post today, i've got a lot of work to do.)

Soup writing what soup wants to write (??????)/Omnipotent and Omniscient obsessed narrator (romantic)

“Well, this may end up being the most challenging prompt of all. What role shall you cast me in today?”

The writer did have one idea, but…

“Come now, I’m sure we’re both up to the task. What would you like?”

…

“Writer? Are you- Is everything alright?”

It’s just embarrassing, is all.

“Honestly… If your followers have the courage to request things they consider to be ‘self indulgent’, then you should have the courage to write whatever the hell you like. Challenge yourself, writer. Bridge the gap! Charge in and get what you want.”

The writer sighs, and hands over the script. The narrator scans it quickly, and looks back with a wicked smile.

“Really~? I didn’t think you had it in you. Alright, let’s get everything set up.”

The world fades to black. 

When he confessed, I… didn’t handle it well. The love of someone like the narrator, it was incredibly dangerous. He sat me down on a couch, put his hand on my knee, and told me everything. I panicked. 

I yelled at him, refused his advances point blank, shoved him away, and made a run for it. Every day, a long drive. Every night, a different motel. It’s been this way for a few months now. He… treats it all as if it’s some game. Some playful thing, like tag, or a very aggressive version of hide and seek. Sometimes, I look in my rearview mirror, and he’s in the car behind me, giving a cheerful wave. There’s been more than one occasion where I’ve been in a half-doze, just on the edge of sleep, and he’ll gently caress my cheek, or I’ll feel his warm hand slip into mine. Those nights, I usually bolt out of bed, grab my stuff, and keep moving. 

I don’t sleep well, I don’t eat well. The days have all blended together in one mass of fear and sleeplessness. All of this would be much more tolerable, even sustainable, if it weren’t for the fact-

That I loved him back. Sincerely, deeply, without reservation. Someone might ask, “Well, if the two of you love each other, what’s the problem?”

If someone had asked, I’d tell them the truth. Love was earned. Happiness too, was something to be worked towards, not freely given. I loved him, and there was nothing wrong with that, but he loved me, and the idea was hideous. It was a truth, an undeniable fact, like the sky being blue. I hadn’t done anything to be so well loved. So I was going to push him away until he gave up. 

My alarm went off. I opened my eyes blearily, groaned, and slapped my phone until the noise stopped. Glancing out the window for a moment, I noticed it was raining. Could hear it too. Right. Another day on the road. I lay there for a few moments, tracking out a travel plan. Nothing came to mind except to get going as quickly as possible.

I attempted to ease myself into a sitting position. Nothing happened. Believe me, I was definitely putting in the effort. My muscles shook with the strain. The adrenaline had been coursing through me for so long. I couldn’t-

Oh shit. Burnout.

Well, this wasn’t great. Even kicking the blankets off felt like too great a challenge. I did my best to relax instead, hearing the staccato rain hit the rooftops. Fear reared its ugly head. I needed to press forward, to keep moving, to…

I tried to get up again, and didn’t make it the second time either. I struggled against my own body for a while, snarling and cursing away. Everything hurt so much. It was a deep ache, the kind that can’t be fixed by normal means. Even my bones hurt. My soul felt tired as well, curling inwards at the edges like burning paper. 

With an irritated sigh, I gave up and sank back against the bed. I wasn’t going anywhere.

“I quite agree with your assessment.” The narrator said.

“Oh, god.” I whimpered.

He swirled around my room like a vapor, before quickly condensing into human form. He stood at the edge of the bed, hands clasped behind his back. Not a hair out of place.

“Not quite, but I’m certainly the closest thing you’re going to find on this side.” He was smiling.

I stared at him in absolute dread. There wasn’t a way out this time. He had me at every disadvantage. I was doomed. 

“No,” He murmured. “You’re about to be rescued.”

“Stop reading my thoughts!”

“Why? Honestly, it’s the best communication method there is. No slip ups, no room for miscommunication or misunderstandings… And best of all, no privacy.”

“Humans like to have privacy. And I’d like you to leave me alone.” 

“Well, naturally I would believe you, except that your brain isn’t in agreement with that statement. I know what you actually want, that’s the beauty of it. Now, I’m going to do exactly what a particular train of thought is desiring, and we’ll see how you feel afterwards.”

He crossed over to the bed in a few strides, and my body attempted to thrash away, to strike out, to do something. I glared at him defiantly, as he leaned over me, and… Kissed my forehead. He pulled away after a moment, and stared down at me, with a lovesick expression.

Um. 

…Yeah, that was something I had been wanting. My embarrassment grew, as did my frustration.

“So what if I wanted a tender kiss on the forehead! That’s none of your business!” I half yelled.

His face was full of amusement. “Oh, it very much is my business. I know exactly what you need, and I have every intention of giving it to you. I don’t think you quite realize how deep my abilities run. It’s not just the ability to read thoughts. It’s borderline omnipotence, and reality warping too. You and I are going to have a great many years together, with me satisfying your every need, and you falling hopelessly in love. Except-”

He broke into a wide grin. “I think you already are in love.”

As soon as I was able, I was going to kick his ass.

“I remember when I told you how I felt.” He continued, as if he hadn’t heard that thought. “Body language and brain chemistry is such a fascinating thing. I watched and felt your heart rate pick up, your brain fill with oxytocin and dopamine… If you were actually afraid or angry with me, your pupils would have contracted. They dilated. And then-” He sighed dramatically. 

“You pushed me away. And I let you. Clearly, this was something you needed to get out of your system. I let you run. But I never left you, not for a second.”

My breathing was starting to pick up. “Please-” I begged. “Please don’t hurt me.”

He sighed deeply. “It’s despicable, what’s been done to you. Honestly, if I do catch sight of your family, they won’t last the hour. I hate to break it to you, dearheart, but you have no idea what safety looks like. Allow me then, to be your narrative guide into what love really is.”

“No.”

“It’s alright, take as much time as you need. I understand it’s hard to let your guard down, especially when someone has been as hurt as you are. But believe me, human minds are malleable. We have eternity to play with. I don’t think your current attitude will last the century.” 

Century!?

With all my strength, I pushed my body as far as I could. I moved half an inch away from him. 

Damn it.

He’d planned this out. It was the perfect trap. 

“Oh dear me, whatever is the matter?” He asked, half smiling. “Could it be that it hurts too much to move, and that you need a reliable and trustworthy caretaker to help?”

I could feel the tears coming on. I did my best to push them back. “Please-” I gasped. “Please don’t. I can’t be helped. You’re just going to hurt me, the same as everyone else. You’re going to lose patience, you’ll get angry-”

He ran his fingers through my hair. “Shh, shh. It’s alright.”

I babbled on, not entirely in control. “I don’t want to make you mad. I’ll admit it, I love you. So much. You have no idea, none at all-”

He didn’t bother to correct me.

“-I don’t want you to hurt me. Please go away, I- if I get abused one more time, I’m not going to make it. I can’t do this again-” 

He gently wiped each tear away, his voice and heart heavy. “You really don’t know what it is to be cherished. To be protected. If it takes until the stars burn out for you to understand, then I can wait. My dear, beings like us don’t work on human time scales. You ran for three months. That’s a drop in the bucke-” 

He cleared his throat.

“That’s hardly any time at all. My patience will outlast yours; you won’t have another choice. Now-” He said, verbally cutting himself off.

“Your muscles are aching terribly. And I think, well, I think I have a solution. Here, let me show you.”

He picked me up like I weighed nothing, which to him I probably did, and he carried me into the bathroom.

It was a dinky, slightly dirty motel bathroom last night. I couldn’t afford anything better. But now-

It was large and opulent. The small shower had been replaced by a large bathtub, big enough for several people. My jaw dropped at the soft candle lighting, the scents filling the air, the water with plumes of steam rolling from it…

“I took the liberty of changing the bathroom’s style to something more suited for our needs. It’s one of the many lovely perks of being me.” He sounded slightly smug.

But then he turned to face me with a serious expression. “I need to make this clear. I have zero intention of engaging in…”

Sexual acts?

He cleared his throat. “Indeed. We may, if you wish, later down the line. But that isn’t what either of us needs tonight. You need to relax, and I…”

I waited for him to share what he needed. He settled me on the edge of the tub, and began undressing me. I covered my scars with my hands on instinct. 

“If that protection is what you need to feel comfortable, then so be it. But let me assure you,” He kissed one of my uncovered marks gently. “You are beautiful.”

I decided that my face was flushed from the steam in the room, and nothing else. He finished undressing me and gently placed me into the water. The effect was almost instant. I let out a soft sigh and let myself unwind for the first time in several months. He looked at my face, and surprisingly, nowhere else.

“An excellent double purpose, don’t you think?” He said, voice light. “You get the chance to ease your muscles, and I get to prove that my self control is excellent.”

I stared at him. “You’re crazy.” It was the only thing I could think to say. 

“Only for you, dearest.”

I eyed him for several moments, then became shy. “Will you- kiss my forehead again?” 

His smile… I don’t even have the words for it. His smile was soft, and warm, and one of the most lovely things I had ever seen. 

He did what I asked.

Minutes passed. My heart rate gradually slowed down, and my muscles felt much better. The tub was large enough that if I had the energy, I could have swam laps. The narrator stood there, though I wasn’t sure why. He checked his watch.

“Right, I think that’s enough time.” He said. I felt surprised, then made a move to get out of the tub.

“Oh no, no, no, not yet. Getting you in the bath and relaxed was part one of a three stage plan! I needed to make sure the heat had time to sink into your body. Stay right where you are. I’m going to give you a massage.”

I leaned on the edge of the tub, and watched him take off his suit jacket and roll up his dress shirt. He said he wasn’t going to look anywhere except my face, but I had made no such promises. I admired his arms. His human form ticked every one of my boxes.

He grinned at my thoughts. “Indeed. A rare specimen of handsomeness, if I do say so myself.”

I agreed, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of admitting it out loud. He partially phased out of this plane of reality so that he could have full access to my body, and started massaging my hands. He worked up slowly, from my wrists to my arms, then my shoulders…

I zoned out. His perception was a huge advantage. He knew without having to ask where the tense areas were, where the primary muscle groups were, and which spots needed extra attention. He partially phased into the water as well, and I could feel pulses of water work on my back, unfolding and uncurling the tight muscles. The water was warming and cooling as I needed. The water supported me, I wasn't at risk for drowning myself. I went completely limp in ten minutes.

Thoughts were harder to come by. Everything started to slow down. Even so, a few stray connections were made. 

“Hang on, you can change reality however you want. If you didn’t want your clothes to get wet, you could just make them not get wet. Rolling up your sleeves was just for show, wasn’t it? A free ego boost?”

He worked on a stubbornly wound muscle, and my body and brain went limp again. It was getting harder to think by the moment. I was on the edge of letting go, accepting my situation, when another stray thought occurred.

“You’re really having no sexual thoughts at all? No temptation whatsoever?” I asked.

“Now, now, we shouldn’t be knot-y.” He said this while focusing on my legs, which held a lot of tension, and were indeed, covered in knots. The pun hit me full force. I snorted, then idly flicked a drop of water at him.

“You’re terrible. And that wasn’t funny.”

He hummed a satisfied note. “Then why are you smiling?”

“...This is a pity smile.”

He chuckled warmly, hands still working. “If you must know, I just dialed down my own desires. They don’t exist right now. Your needs clearly take priority over my wants, after all.”

Now that was romantic. I found myself falling a bit harder.

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s basic kindness. Oh- you have no idea what romance is. No idea. With me, you’re going to feel things you’ve never felt before. The entire universe is our playground. I’ll take you to see the binary sunsets on Trafalgar 4. I’ll take you to the crystal moons in the Gamma Quadrant. Anywhere, and everywhere. I know all the best restaurants in the galaxy. I have every intention of wooing you completely-”

“But I already like you- more than like you. You have me right where you want me, what’s the point of taking it further?”

“...Because you deserve it.”

I glared at him. Rejection of that statement swarmed in my mind, and muscles that had relaxed began to tense back up.

“Ah, we can’t have that.” The water grew hot again, the pleasant smells increased, the water shifted, pushing and massaging out the tense areas. I let out a small groan, and the resistance went out of me. My heartbeat slowed.

My glare faded into something less hostile. I started to become dazed again. “I don’t understand. I don’t-” I interrupted myself with a yawn. “Why are you… you? Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Heh… I don’t think there’s a way I can explain without you getting anxious or angry again. For the next few hours, I’m going to ask that you trust me, just for a while.”

I didn’t want to. He had solidly turned my brain and body into mush. I wanted- I wanted-

I wanted more affection. 

He pulled me out of the tub just a little, and rested me on the edge. Most of my body was still in the water.

He began kissing me. He started with my cheek, worked his way to my jaw, pressed a brief kiss to my neck which caused my whole body to twitch, coasted to the other side, and did the same there. His lips were so soft. He was so utterly gentle and slow. I sighed and relaxed into the affection he freely gave.

He pulled back for a moment. There was so much love in his eyes. But there was something else I wanted. He knew it, I didn’t have to say it, but he held back. I think he was wanting me to verbalize it for some reason. 

I pointed to my lips. “I think you missed a spot.” I shrank back from him a little at this blatant statement. I began to scoot away from him a bit, suddenly nervous.

He stilled me with his hands. Cradling my face, he pressed his lips against mine. He held me close for a few moments, then let go.

“You never have to be afraid to ask.” He said. I yawned again.

“Right.” He said. “Time for you to go back to bed.” He plucked me out of the tub and dressed me in a robe of some kind. I didn’t put up much of a fight. 

I did comment. “Check out of the motel is meant to be at noon.”

He scoffed. “Did you really think I hadn’t thought of that? An hour before you woke up, I glitched their computers and date trackers. We have a week. And believe me-” He peppered my face with kisses.

“-I have every intention of making good use of the time. Consider yourself on vacation. I’ve taken care of everything else, now let me take care of you.”

He laid me gently on the bed.   

“Sssso.” I slurred. “Part one was the bath, part two was the massage, what’s part three?”

He grinned. “You’re going to love it.” 

He climbed on the bed after me, and pulled me close. I found myself buried in his chest. His legs tangled with mine, making escape impossible.

Oh no~

Then, he started to talk. The vibrations from his chest were so soothing. And need I comment on the quality of his voice?

“You deserve so much, you know. Even more than I can provide. Now that you’re in my arms, I’m not letting you go again. You’re mine, just as much as I’m yours. We’re going to have a wonderful eternity together.”

My mind was in a haze, my muscles were completely relaxed, and everything was perfect. I fell asleep to the sounds of his voice, the rain outside, and the promise of a better tomorrow.

-------

(like i said, you asked for it.)

#SOUP OMG THIS IS AMAZING #cw: slight nsfw mention #cw: abuse mention #the stanley parable #tsp narrator #tsp

[vex-is-the-best]

Yknow.. i kinda miss writing for mcyt g/t stuff.. might get back into it soon…

#dsmp gt #mcyt gt #giant tiny #i miss the people on there the most tbh #the community was fun and im so tempted to get back into it

[vex-is-the-best]

#YES ME RN #I DONT WANT MY TSP HYPERFIXATION TO LEAVE ME

[vex-is-the-best]

Narrator finding reader’s stimming endearing (multipost)

(ok, that's the last headcanon post for today. any more than that, and i'll risk getting hurt again. I might have burned up my energy more than I realized lol

pspsps for the person who wanted stimming while rambling about space, that's still in my inbox. i'm doing a separate post for that that you'll see before the 15th.)

Of course he’d find it endearing. He’s had no proper company for as long as he can remember. Stanley can’t talk back or interact with him in any meaningful way, you’re all he has for decent conversation and socialization.

Doesn’t matter what it is. vocalizing, tapping, full body rocking… It’s proof that you’re alive and can interact with his world. It’s been quiet for far too long. Make as much noise as you want.

The narrator is also someone who tends to stim, though he usually keeps it under tight wraps. Humming and clapping his hands. The more you feel comfortable stimming around him, the more he feels comfortable stimming around you. It’s a great system. 

It’s self expression. He’s not going to judge you for it. He’s been drowned in negative reviews criticizing every aspect of himself or his story. He will refuse point blank to put that kind of energy forward. It’s the one cycle/loop he will not be part of. (It took a lot of character development to get to that point, believe me.)

If you’re a more violent kind of stimmer, he watches cautiously. You’re his favorite human and he doesn’t want you to accidentally hurt yourself. He knows you can take care of yourself, he does. It’s just- well, his understanding of humans is limited. He has a first aid kit on hand, just in case. 

If you make high pitched squeaking noises, the first time you do it, the narrator coos out an “Aww.” before he can stop himself. That was utterly adorable! Then his own reaction catches up with him and he’s acting blustery and clearing his throat, and hoping you didn’t notice.

You’ve got to be careful, you may end up in a cycle where you stim at his reaction and he reacts to it, and- well. At least it’s a positive experience for everyone.  

If you stim by flapping your hands and pacing, he’ll gently laugh. Never in a mocking or teasing way like he might have done in the past, but-

He’s so glad you can express yourself like this, sincerely. You look silly, he admits, but he sees the positives only. You’re getting the excess energy out in a way that doesn’t hurt other people. 

Don’t you see, reader? It’s you that matters. The narrator has been alone and starved for company for so long, that it’s more than likely he’ll love and admire every aspect of you. You’re charming, simply by the fact that you’re alive and expressing yourself. 

#HAHDJFJFJFIDDIDI I LOVE HIM #the stanley parable #tsp narrator #tsp

[vex-is-the-best]

hello!! i hope you’re having a great day!! i absolutely love your writing and i was wondering how the narrator would react to seeing our world in the night for the first time!! would he be fascinated by the city lights? what if we tell him the stories of constellations in the stars!!

here’s some soup by the way soup 🍲 ~ヾ(＾∇＾)

Narrator seeing night for the first time (platonic or romantic)

(still taking it slow today. Decided to take my time with this, to see if I could create something more meaningful than usual.)

He’s unsettled at first. The slowly encroaching darkness reminds him of a reset, albeit a very slow one. You decide the best way to get him accommodated is to take him to a grassy hill, one that overlooks the city. 

It’s a nice setup you’ve created. Two lawn chairs, a few blankets, and a cooler filled with snacks and drinks. You’re not sure if the narrator is in the mood to eat or drink, or if he can at all, but you’ve got your favorite soda, and life is good.

He’s enamored with the sunset. The oranges and reds are beautiful. With some luck, there’s also some decent cloud cover, creating something absolutely picturesque. You casually lean back in your chair, just watching him enjoy himself.

The city lights flick on one by one. You sigh contentedly, deciding it was a great decision to take the night off and relax.

Distant highway traffic sounds also add to the scene. He watches the headlights of cars, and thinks about how small he is, in comparison to everything else. 

He thinks it’s beautiful. Humanity up close is overwhelming, with how many people there are, and how many personality clashes happen, but he can definitely appreciate us from a distance.

He’s reminded of the stars in the office, but this is better, because there’s no sign of any staircase, no indication that you intend on leaving his side.

“It’s lovely.” He says, after a long period of silence. “It’s all so…” He continues, then stops. You give him the time and space to think. This feels like an important moment.

“You- humans, I mean. You’re all so-” He laughs. “How is it that you’re all so large and small at the same time? An individual life is so all encompassing, and yet-” He stares down at the city in shock.

“Yet there are thousands of you, all going about your business, all with your own lives and hobbies and dreams… How do you all manage?”

You smile, and gently slip your hand into his, providing some grounding you think he may be needing. “We manage as best we can. We  try our best to recognize the similarities between us, instead of the differences. We recognize the power one person has, to change the world. We… learn to love each other fiercely, because we’re all we have.” You hold his hand just a fraction tighter, wanting to emphasize the point.

“It’s much easier to do if you can find someone you enjoy spending time with.”

He stays silent for a very long time, taking it all in. You look over at him. “Are you alright?”

He cranes his head back, needing a break from the city lights, needing to collect his thoughts, only to discover-

“Are those real stars?” He asks, in a hushed whisper. You join his gaze, also looking up.

“Yeah.”

The silence continues, and you start to worry a bit. He’s never been this quiet under positive circumstances. “Narrator, if it’s too much, we can-”

“No! No, no, no, no. I’m fine. I just-” In the dim light, you can see him blink his eyes rapidly.

“Oh, reader. I have so many thoughts and ideas about what I’m seeing, but the words aren’t coming. I can’t possibly do it justice.”

You smile a little. “Welcome to the human experience. The universe has been giving people writer’s block for as long as there have been writers.”

He looks at you, and you can definitely see tears shining in his eyes. “How can I ever thank you for showing me this?”

Well- it’s not as if you were the one to put the stars there in the first place. You couldn’t take credit for building the city either. You just existed here, the same as everyone else. But he seemed like he wanted to repay the favor somehow.

You decide to turn the offer to his advantage. “Let me keep you company. There’s so much I want to show you, so please- Let me take you to see everything.”

He chuckles wetly. “Reader, you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

The two of you sit in the chairs for a very long time, enjoying each other's presence.

#HORDOFKFJRJDDJDJ SOUP ISTG WHY ARE YOU SO COOL #the narrator x reader #the stanley parable #tsp narrator #tsp

[vex-is-the-best]

Ever since I started gathering voice clips of the narrator in the Dungeons games, I've been having waaay too much fun with the concept that that is where he went off to while being skip button'd, or after the figurine ending/epilogue. So I figured this would be a fun prompt to send you. The narrator is hard at work at his new job of narrating the Dungeons games only to realize at some point that the player is the same one who was playing TSP before a certain skip button happened, and/or when he decided to retire Stanley. I'll leave it up to you to decide how this plays out. Consider this platonic or romantic, although given that clip you reblogged, uuuhhh, romantic may be the way to go, 'cause boy does that dude drop his guard like nobody's business when you beat a final boss, apparently lol. (God, that clip still has me laughing. Spat out my drink the first time I heard it.)

(Oh, that clip. Good lord I turned into a blushing mess when I first heard it. If you (readers) haven't already, listen to it. I'll link it at the end of this post.)

The narrator discovering the same player again in a different game (romantic)

Yeah, the narrator had been crushing on you for a while. You were quite a sweet player, all told. Not the most obedient, but he always sensed your amusement and vague feelings of friendship. He can read into Stanley’s thoughts fairly well, (assuming it’s not just his own projections.) It’s not that much of a reach for him to sense the person behind Stanley’s actions.

He admires you, secretly. He wouldn’t be able to verbalize why. Maybe it’s the way he can feel your amusement at his jokes, or your sympathy as he struggles to tell his story. You’re empathizing with a fiction, spending time with someone who isn’t quite as real as he’d like to be. 

The two of you bumble along, having a good time, like always, being friends and having fun. Even if you do drag along that damnable bucket from time to time. Things are perfect.

But… He really should move on from the parable. It’s not a matter of the parable having gone stale, far from it. He’s always egged both himself and Stanley on, thinking ‘just one more run’, or something similar. 

Between the skip button and other similar developments, he’s grown as a person quite a bit. He’s mellowed out a little, and become more kind around the edges. He’s changed, but the parable remains forever static, an intentional part of its design. He’s honestly, authentically, ready to go.

The truth is, leaving the parable isn’t as hard as leaving you. You’ll never hear him admit to it, but… it is what it is. He is who he is, and you- You are wonderfully, beautifully you. He sighs. There’s definitely some lingering remorse. He says that he’ll give the story one more run, then retire it for good.

And then- Out of all possible endings you could take for his last retelling, out of every single choice- You take the freedom ending. One last perfect run. You skip past the broom closet, you wait for him to instruct you on which numbers fit in the keypad, no delays or false paths taken.

After everything the two of you have been through, you’re giving him the best send off he could ask for. He’s never cried happy tears before, but he definitely gets close as he gives out his last narration. The world fades to white, and then the black of the loading screen. He wants to make sure you have company. You’ve given him that, it’s the least he could do in return.

So he leaves behind a copy of himself, one that’s not aware of the player. 

The copy is just like him in every way, just less self aware. It doesn’t have any memories of his decision to leave. It will provide entertainment as best it can. But it won’t be him. And it will not love you like he does. He doesn’t want competition. Let him have that one selfish thought, please. He doesn’t want anyone else to fall in love with you.

Months pass. Maybe years. He takes on other narration jobs, and has an absolute blast. It’s enjoyable, having someone else come up with a script instead of him. He gets to relax, and narrate to his heart’s content. People clamor for his voice, and he doesn’t have to put any of the effort into coming up with words. It’s perfect.

A script lands on his desk for a game series called ‘Dungeons’. He shrugs his metaphysical shoulders. Seemed like an easy gig, why not?

He inhabits the game, and narrates to his heart’s content. He watches players come and go, and thinks about you often. His throat hurts every time he does. 

Ah. Another new player arrives. He cracks his knuckles, and distantly wonders whether this one will complete the game, or stop before they make it that far.

He does his job to the best of his ability. He always does- he’s a professional after all. He gives the standard opening lines, and the two of you progress through the game, just like old times.

There’s something achingly familiar about you, but the narrator does his best to not be rattled.

He’s moved on from his own game, but certainly not from you.

Then he delivers a witty bit of dialogue, perfectly salted and sarcastic, and you laugh. Your presence is filled with amusement, with joy, and he knows it’s you. No one else had the same essence. The same spirit, colored with different emotions.

He has a bit of a positive breakdown, and tries to keep his narration even.

Here? Now? Of all times and all places? This had to be proof. This had to mean something. He holds his tongue, difficult though it is. He’s elated on the inside. You’ve got the same setup you’ve always had, headset with mic attached. He listens to you react to him, and is filled with pure bliss.

His jaw drops as you dedicatedly play through the game, never faltering, never giving up. Sometimes friends of yours will visit, and crack jokes about what you’re doing. You say to them, “Hell yeah, I’m having a great time. I can’t believe it’s the same narrator. It’s so nice to hear new dialogue again. You watch, I’m not going to stop until I’ve heard everything.”

If he had a physical form, he would be blushing. He’s astounded. The amount of pure joy he’s feeling right now is beyond description. He watches you smash through enemies and beat levels with a dedication he rarely sees.

And then, you beat the final boss. His normal dialogue is to just congratulate the player, plain and simple. The end, roll credits. For the first time he can remember, he tosses his script aside and does something off the cuff.

“Yes! Wow! You did it! Forget about talking to you in the third person crap, you really did it! Incredible! I could hug you, I could kiss you, but hey, I’m just a voice in a video game…”

You roar with laughter and delight, and your face heats up a little. “Hah! I wish.” 

He freezes. That’s the closest thing he’ll ever get to a confirmation. He has to press forward.

“Oh, really~?” He purrs. You choke on your drink. “W-woah, that almost sounded like a direct response-”

“Stranger things have happened, reader.”

You cringe at yourself for taking a chance that would make you look ridiculous if anyone else was in the room with you. “Is… Is it really you? Not just a narrator, the narrator. From The Stanley Parable. I mean, hell- i’d recognize your voice anywhere, but- is- are you all of… you?” It’s not the best way to phrase it, you know. 

He rolls his eyes affectionately. “Of course it’s me. Why, with a voice as distinguished and excellent as mine-” You cut off his boasting with another laugh. He never gets tired of hearing it.

You start to tease him back. “Alright, well, you seemed pretty interested in kissing me earlier. I’m not one for long distance relationships, but I’m sure I can make this work.”

“Erm- Well- I-” His brain is malfunctioning. “I- I can try something. Put your lips to the screen.”

You do. There's a slight static buzz from your computer. Your lips are zapped. You pull back. “Uh-”       

“Oops. That was a stronger pulse than I wanted it to be. Still, I do find your presence rather… Electrifying.”

You say nothing for a few moments. “Well, this has been fun, but-”

“No, no, no, no, come back!” You’re trying your best to hold in your laughter.

So begins one of the oddest relationships you’ve ever had. 

#SCREAMING OH MY GOD /POS #the narrator x reader #the stanley parable #tsp narrator #tsp

[vex-is-the-best]

Narrator and a reader who is afraid to tell him they’re upset (platonic)

“Oh. Oh dear. Whatever is the matter?” He asks. You shrug, not wanting to tell him you’ve had a rough day. It’s… so hard to tell people how you feel. Emotions weren’t easy for you, and when it comes to the narrator… It’s even harder.

He’s been through too much already, between the skip button and the red door. You don’t want to burden him with your problems. So despite your mental exhaustion and your sadness, you do your best to push it down.

You were certain that the narrator did not have the emotional capacity for your issues. There was a curl of fear inside you as well, but you weren’t exactly sure what the cause was. “It’s nothing!” You say, trying to keep your voice light but missing the mark. “Everything’s fine!”

The narrator can be oblivious. He can steamroll over someone else’s ideas. He can ramble for hours at a time, and not notice how bored people get. But this feels important, somehow. There’s some sort of instinct he has, especially where you’re concerned. He knows something is wrong, he just can’t put his finger on it.

“Are you quite sure?” You hum an affirmation through tightly closed lips. No secret emotions were going to spill out of you, that’s for certain. 

You couldn’t be upset in front of him, you just- can’t. It’s not allowed. You know that wouldn’t make sense to an outsider, but that’s the best way you can phrase it. 

The narrator pokes and prods to the best of his ability. Again, it’s not something he can explain, but he knows you’re lying as you go through the day with a fake smile. And it hurts him a little bit, but he’s at a stage in his character development where he realizes that what you’re doing to yourself is hurting you worse.

“Come now, there’s clearly something bothering you. Why not relax on the couch, and tell me what it is?”

“No thanks. I told you, I’m perfectly alright.” It’s getting harder and harder to keep everything stuffed down. He seems, despite what you might have expected, gentle and safe. He hasn’t lost patience with you, he’s not demanding an answer.

“Reader,” His voice is soft and coaxing. “I really do want to assist you, if I can. I know it can be hard to put your trust in another, but… I think you need help, and I think I can provide it, if you give me the opportunity.”

It’s getting harder and harder to speak. “I’m f- I- I’m fi-” The lie is too big to say. You clench your teeth, and close your eyes, resisting the tears welling up in them. The fear is rattling around your insides, making it impossible to move forward with asking for help, and to take back what you’ve said.

The narrator has a moment of insight. “...Are you afraid, reader?” His brain rattles with a similar anxiety. What is it? Are you afraid of him? Surely not, you couldn’t be-

Your eyes are still closed, and your jaw is still tense. You nod, saying nothing, on the edge of letting everything out, but being unable to cross that barrier. It feels awful.

He has no idea what to do. He just does what he knows, which is to talk. “Emotions are… Difficult. Oftentimes they can feel overwhelming, so strong a pull and push that it feels like you’ll be lost forever. But I can promise that no matter how big your feelings are, they will not kill you. It often feels like they will, especially when it comes to sadness, or grief. But feelings, by themselves, will not destroy you. It is healthy and important to let them out, despite what you may have been told.”

He racks his brain for something else to say. There could be several reasons why you’re afraid of showing your emotions, and you’re not in the best position to communicate. “I don’t know what sort of day you’ve had, but there’s nothing wrong with feeling awful. It’s a part of humanity, like goosebumps, or hiccups.” He breaks off his speech with a wry smile. “Strange creatures, you are.” 

He shakes his head and gets back on track. “We don’t have much control over our emotions, similarly to these involuntary reactions our body produces when faced with stimuli. This is the nature of the human condition. I understand it’s frustrating to not have control over a situation-” He breaks off, caught up in other timelines, in never ending loops that always went off track against his will.

“...But your true friends will accept and love you regardless of whether or not you’ve had a bad day, a bad week, or a bad life. I offer the same to you. I haven’t stopped caring about you, simply because you’re struggling. You are not loved less, because you are going through something difficult.”

He’s slightly encouraged by the tears that are rolling down your cheeks. You’re getting some form of release, which is a good thing. He keeps talking. “I can promise you that you are safe with me. There is nothing wrong with how you feel. I’ll tell you as many times as you need.”

You’re choking on a sob. He continues to encourage you. “There now. Shh. It’s okay. Let go.”

“I- I can’t!” You half wail. His heart breaks for you. “Yes, you can.” He manifests hands, and holds yours, trying to offer whatever support he is able to give. “You don’t have to be afraid to let your feelings show, not around me. You’ve been through so much, but I don’t think anyone’s given you the time or space to grieve properly. Allow me to be that person for you, please.”

He never asks. He never asks for permission, he’s the one who is in control. But for you, he will make an exception.

You can’t hold back any longer. You try to bite back the rising emotions, but you just don’t have the strength anymore. You break down, sobbing, and the narrator is right there with you, every step of the way. He quickly stops manifesting his hands, and curls around you in his other form. 

You’re held tight by someone you can’t see, completely protected in his non corporeal form. You let out every bit of sadness, frustration, bitterness, and fear in one long crying session. He refuses to leave your side, even if you try to push him away. 

Time passes. You’re not sure how much exactly, but you’re guessing it’s been about half an hour. The narrator still clutches you. Your tears have stopped.

You’re a little out of it, and the emotional hangover is going to be intense. But you found the relief you were looking for.

“There now.” He says. “I’m glad you let all of that out.” A pitcher of water and a glass materialize near you. “I expect you to hydrate, reader. That was a big release, and you don’t need a headache on top of everything else.” He’s back in control now, and intends to use it to your advantage.

He’s glad you trusted him enough to let him see this part of you, even if it wasn’t entirely willing at first.

You settle into his presence, glad for the non judgemental company. You’re filled with relief at finally letting go. You’re so glad he’s in your life.    

#aaaaAAAAAAAAHHHH/POS #the narrator x reader #the stanley parable #tsp narrator #tsp