#and they're not gonna take it away from us

[audliminal]

It's just a game, right?

pt 2

"I just don't see how sitting around is gonna do anything!" Dash argues, face to face with Sam.

"Well, if you have other ideas you're more than welcome to offer them, but we can't just take out the giw. They have more manpower than us, more equipment, and the new agents actually seem to be competent in fights! And we are a bunch of high school students!"

They are all, ostensibly in English Class right now, but even Mr. lancer has forgone the illusion of normal classwork. He assigns books and hands out reading assignments every week, but nobody really cares whether they get turned in or not. The city, after all, has a much bigger problem.

"I don't know! But sitting here-"

"He's not entirely wrong, the longer we wait the more likely they figure it out, just like we all did." As Valerie finishes speaking, the room temperature drops noticeably, and the kids all glance nervously over at Danny who's head hasn't moved from it's spot on his desk. He almost seems dead with how still he is. Beside him Tucker stares at his PDA, the only one who hasn't reacted to the temperature change.

"Should I even ask what you're messing with?" Sam asks, walking over while the others stare nervously at Danny.

"Actually, yeah." Tucker easily shifts so they can both see the webpage displayed on the handmade tech. "I got something through."

"I thought getting stuff through wasn't really the problem?"

"I mean, yeah, they're letting Everything Is Normal posts through, but this wasn't. That. I was, um, kind of fucking around with ciphers and shit? Not saying anything relevant, but just seeing whether they'd flag any old weird shit, you know? And um. I got a video out."

"Okay, but how does that help us?" Valerie asks.

"It helps because if they let a cipher through then means if I encode shit well enough, then it'll also get through."

"But if it's, like, that hard to figure out what it says, then won't it be useless on the outside?"

"The chances of it getting into the hands of someone who could crack it do seem, uh, improbable."

"Not if we stack the deck."

"Wes-"

"No, listen, I know you're all still mad at me, but like. If you can attract a community of codebreakers? Then eventually someone will crack the code on what you need them to!"

"If you have an idea then just fucking say it, Wes," Sam snaps.

"Make an ARG. We can even have like, the base level be completely United to anything real, just make up a story about, i dunno, space travel? And then bury the actual info beneath that. Eventually somebody will crack into the real stuff, and if it's popular enough by then, and the GIW tries to suppress it? That'll be even more suspicious-looking, and just make them dig harder."

"What the fuck is a ARG?" Dash asks, pulling his gaze away from their definitely-just-sleeping classmate.

"Augmented reality game. It's like an unfiction thing. Make a story but the story is interactive and people have to decode shit to figure out what's going on." Tucker glances over to Wes. "And actually not a bad idea. If we all work together, we could probably make something cool."

"You could treat it as a class-wide project." Mr. Lancer says, making everyone jump. "That way I can back you up if anyone starts asking questions."

"Make it about black holes," Danny says, finally pulling himself up from his desk. "We can base it in wormhole theory, and distract the GIW with all the theoretical science."

"What, so like we make videos that seem like they're being sent through a black hole?"

"Fuckin. Sure, why not? As if shit couldn't get any weirder around here."

"Star, please try to refrain from swearing in front of me. I know the situation is - difficult - but I am officially still your teacher."

"Sorry, Lancer."

[gunaerystargarygun]

The brain worms continue to infest my brain.

Posted on Ao3, but posting here as well: Here's my contribution to the Stan x Reader genre.

Tags: Vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, porn with mild plot, c'mon you guys know me at this point.

Know When to Fold 'Em

"Thanks for all your help, you're doin great, dood!" Soos's voice is full of pride, contentment as you hand over small zipped bag, the profits of the day. You smile, giving a slight shrug of your shoulders. "Soos, you've told me that every day for the past two years."

"And I mean it every time! Can't imagine runnin' this place without ya," he beams at you, his crooked smile making your own smile grow a little larger. Despite him being a few years younger than you, he makes a fantastic boss. "Can't believe Mr. Pines thought you was gonna be useless when I hired ya."

Well, that makes the smile drop.

You met Mr. Pines, well, both Mr. Pines when you got a job here at the shack, cashier and handyperson. A little odd, yes, but you needed the job and for a tourist trap? The place paid well enough, you could afford a small house and just about everything else you needed. You tap your foot, pressing your lips together. "Soos, not that I don't appreciate the words of encouragement, but you don't have to be up here." You throw a thumb over your shoulder and gesture to the shack. "I'm sure Melody could use your help with the baby."

"You sure? I feel kinda bad leavin' you here with all the clean up and restocking." Just as you're about to assure him that you're more than capable of restocking bobble heads and putting out minimally designed bumper stickers, the doorbell chimes and another voice breaks in. "Don't worry about it, Soos. I'll make sure everything gets put back in its place." The old Mr. Mystery poses in front of you. He stands tall, a rather tacky Hawaiian shirt with luau girls and surfboards plastered on it, a pair of khakis completing the look. He stretches his arms out in a flourish, making his entrance more grand.

You roll your eyes slightly, it's the same every time he comes into the shack, which...has been quite a lot, recently. "I haven't had a complaint once," you remark as Stanley begins to look around the place.

"That's cause Soos is too nice of a boss," he says, running his finger along the underside of the checkout counter. "See all this dust? Unbelievable!" He sticks out a finger towards your face, which you squint at.

"There's nothing there."

"To the untrained eye, maybe! This place may as well be covered in mud." You grumble an unhappy sound before Soos speaks up again. "Ah c'mon, Mr. Pines, they're a great worker!" Soos' arm comes around you in a one sided hug, squeezing you tight against his side. "Say, you been around a lot." Soos relaxes his grip on you, which lets you take in a deep breath. "You miss runnin' the shack?"

"What? No, no." He waves a hand dismissively. "Just makin' sure my life's work is still up and runnin', you know. Plus, the kids loved this place."

That was true. You had the pleasure of meeting the twins at the start of this summer. The girl, Mabel, was charming as all get out - she even made you a sweater, which you promised to wear in the colder months. The young boy, Dipper? A little surly. You swore he was running tests on when you weren't looking, or was trying to, anyway. At least by the end of the summer, whatever anxiety he had about you seemed to wash away.

"Okay! I'm gonna trust this place to yous guys. Lock up!" Soos waves his goodbyes, disappearing from the gift shop and somewhere into the house.

"I can handle this, you know?" You make your way to the small storage closet, taking out a box and ripping it open.

"I'm sure you can," he shrugs his shoulders. "Just makin' sure you do it right." Stanley then makes his way behind the register and takes a seat. You stand, blinking.

"What?" He asks.

"Aren't you going to help?"

"Huh? Oh, no, I'm not helpin' like that. I'm supervisin' ya," he laughs, slapping his own knee before propping them up on the counter.

You don't know why you expected anything different. You've known Stanley for the better part of two years and while he certainly has his redeeming qualities, being extra helpful isn't one of them. You sigh, and begin unpacking the restocks.

To your surprise, Stan is the one who strikes up the conversation. It's simple questions at first, how the shack has been, the types of tourists that've been coming around, and how Soos has been running the place. Whenever you think you finish with an answer, he probes for me, and you notice, his eyes stay on you a large majority of the time.

You feel your face flush a little with that.

Finally, the restocking is done, and you get the broom. Minimal housekeeping; the weather has been dry, so no mud. "You got any plans tonight?" The question catches you off guard, making you turn completely around to face Stan.

"Uh, other than eating a frozen pizza? No. Why?"

"Wanna play a couple round of cards?" He stuffs his hands in his khaki pockets, shrugging, as if he doesn't care how you answer the question. The way he shifts his attention to the floor, however, makes you think otherwise. "Ford's out on a nature hike, or whatever it is that nerds do in the woods, so I got no plans myself."

"Sure." You answer. "Sounds like fun, and beats eating the pizza alone."

By the look of quick surprise, he clearly wasn't expecting you to say yes. He shrugs it off fast enough, shooting a finger gun at you. "Perfect! What's the address? I'll be over at seven." You grab a pen and paper, scribbling it down and passing it over.

Huh, this'll be the first time he sees your house. You think that you better clean up a little bit, not that you think he'd particularly care, but still.

It takes very little to actually clean up your house. A few stray pieces of clothing that make it to the hamper (you missed each time you threw it in, but who's here to see?) and washing a few of the dishes. Just as you finish putting the pizza in, there's a knock at your door.

You hurry up, stopping at the mirror in the hallway just before the door, and look at yourself. You smooth out your shirt, nodding and opening the door.

Stanley stands on your porch with a twelve pack in one hand and two bottles of liquor, held precariously by the neck, in the other. He's still in the same outfit from earlier, but the top few buttons are undone. Were they like that earlier? "Figured it'd be impolite if I only brought it for myself," he shrugs the pack in his arm a little, the bottles clinking together. He glances around. "Nice place."

"Thanks," you say, stepping to the side and letting him in. "Just set it on the table." You watch as he strides through your house, the pack of alcohol landing with a thump while the bottles settle down nicely. He pulls out a chair, easing into it as he props up a foot on one of his knees. The way he leans against the table...

"Where's the cards?" You clear your throat, sliding out a chair across from him and taking a seat. You need something else to distract you.

"Right here," he sticks a hand in his pocket and pulls out a rather beat-up-looking deck of cards and slaps them on the table. "You shuffle, or me?" You eye the cards for a moment, reaching out and grabbing the deck.

"I will." The cards are pleasantly worn, and you can't help but wonder how much use these things have gotten. "Go easy on me? Been a while since I played."

"First rounds are on me," he nods. "Don't try and pull the wool over my eyes." He playfully points an accusatory finger at you.

"I know, I know." You cut the deck, shuffling them thoroughly before dealing them out.

It's...pleasant. You didn't expect it to be unpleasant, to be fair, but aside from the one off times of drinking, there's a handful of times when the two of you have been alone together. Stan takes the time to tell you a wild tale of when he was a "much younger buck,"  when he managed to steal a shipment of some undisclosed items from a smuggler. It's amusing, even if it isn't real. You can never tell with him.

Eventually, the oven dings and the pizza is ready. It's served, and you bring two glasses out as well. Before the beer, Stan reaches for the liquor and twists off the cap. "Want one?" You press your lips together, thinking for a moment.

"Hit me." It's a guesstimate on how much a shot would be. Or maybe two.

Either way, you wait until Stan pours his before clinking your glasses together and downing it. Whiskey may not be your go-to, especially when it's warm, but the burn in your throat has a familiar comfort. You cough a little, shaking your head and nodding. "Strong." You comment.

"That's the point." He says. Stan sticks out his hand, wiggling his fingers as a sign to hand the cards over. You do, still reeling from the shot as you fish out a bottle of beer. It goes down much easier than the whiskey.

You try very hard to not stare at his hands, but it's difficult. It wasn't something you noticed immediately, but Stan's hands are.... big. Large. Pretty much every synonym for big is how you would describe them, and you vaguely recall the one time you touched them as you passed him something in the shop. They were rough, calloused, but also incredibly warm.

You're not drunk enough to blame that thought on the alcohol right now, so you just push it from your mind as he deals the cards.

Once again, things go back to being pleasant. You nurse your beer as the cards continue to get played, one bottle quickly multiplying between the two of you, along with the cash piling in the center of the table. The conversation steers to him telling you about the adventures he had with the Twins, an endearing tone in his voice that you can't help but smile at. The pizza gets devoured, and when you glance up to the clock, you realize that it's almost eleven o'clock. Have you really been here this long?

That's when it clicks in your alcohol muddled brain.

Stan is lonely. He's been in the shop almost every day for the past week, since the twins left, and even before then, he and the twins were around quite a bit. It would make sense, he went from being around them, his brother, Soos's family, and you for almost three months straight. You look down at the cards, your focus fading for a moment before he speaks.

"Think I mighta run you outta money," he gestures to the table. Your attention turns to it and yeah, there's a decent pile of cash on it. You're pretty sure there's also monopoly money in there, but you're a little too drunk to really notice. "Got anything else to bet?" You think for a moment, tapping the table.

"M'clothes." You answer, plainly. He stares at you.

"Uh, didn't quite catch that?"

"M'CLOTHES." You say it in a louder tone, making sure he can hear it this time. "S'all I got, I'm not up for bettin' my appliances." You point at the blender that sits atop the counter.

"C'mon," he rubs at the back of his neck. "That'd involve me takin' my clothes off too, you don't wanna see that."

"What if I told you that's why I suggested it?" holy shit, why are you saying this? Why are you suddenly so bold, what the hell is in this drink?

"I'd tell ya, you should stop teasin' an old man." You grab the deck of cards, shuffling them in the absolutely worst way ever before slamming them back on the table and pushing them over to him. "Deal 'em."

"You're too drunk for this." The rather sincere reply catches you off guard.

"No, I'm not." You say, stern in your rebuttal. "Look." You jump to your feet, a little wobbly, and begin putting one foot in front of the other, walking a line in the linoleum of your kitchen. While you're not walking perfectly straight, you're doing better than expected. You think so, anyway. "See? I'm f-" just as you're about to finish your sentence, you perform the miraculous feat of tripping over air. You fall a freshly logged tree.

You expect to crash to the floor in the most painful crash since the last time you went to the roller rink, but you never meet the ground. Slowly, you open your eyes, staring up at him. You must have spun in your fall, his hands tucked under your armpits. "What were you sayin' about bein sober enough?" Oh, he's so fucking smug about this.

"I trip on nothin' all the time, drinkin' doesn't have anything to do with this." you weakly shrug your hands, but this close, you catch the smell on him. Mixed with the alcohol, you can catch the scent of cigar smoke, but something faintly woodsy and earthy. It takes everything in you to not sniff at the air. "Uh-huh." he chuckles.

There's a brief moment of silence that passes over the two of you. He doesn't make a move to pull you up, but you're not making a move to get up, either. Instead, you raise a hand and gently press it against his cheek. "You're handsome." You mumble.

"Oh, you're fuckin' wasted."

That makes you twist in his grip. You manage to push yourself to your knees, putting your face just a few inches away from his. "Stop talkin' like I don't mean it."

"You don't mean it."

"I mean this." You grab the sides of his tacky Hawaiian shirt and pull him forward. Your lips crash against his, not realizing how hard you pulled him into you. The scrape of his stubble burns against your chin, a slight shiver running through you. There's the faint taste of tobacco that lingers on him, the chapped skin of his lips. It isn't how you expected this to happen, but to be quite frank, you didn't think this was ever going to happen.

It's only a moment later that you realize he hasn't made a move to kiss you back. He hasn't done anything. You quickly pull back, embarrassed. Why did you do that? God, you're never drinking again. You're not even an alcoholic, and you're planning to go to a 12 step program the second you get sober enough to drive. Your mind races - where else could you move? Maybe the Arctic, right? That's far enough way, that way you c-

You're actually not even far away from him before his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you against his broad chest. You squeak in surprise, hands resting on his thick thighs as he deepens the kiss.

Even through the clothes, he's hot, almost like a furnace. He's burning against you, and this kiss. It makes you dizzy, head spinning. There's a hunger in the kiss, a desperation that you don't think you've ever felt when you kissed other people. His hand holds a tight grip on you, squeezing your side, and you practically melt right into him.

It's a little awkward at first before you two manage to change your positions; neither one of you is keen on breaking the kiss. Eventually, you end up sitting on his lap, legs wrapped around his waist, he sits on the kitchen floor. Shifting, you can feel the hardness of his cock beneath the fabric of the khakis.

Your hands reach for the hem of your shirt. They don't make it far, Stan's hands gripping your wrist. He's somehow even stronger than you expected, your stomach flipping at the pressure. He breaks the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours, panting. You're expecting him to say something filthy, something that's going to make you squirm in his lap.

"Say your alphabet," is what he says instead.

What.

"What?" You ask.

"Say your alphabet," he repeats. "Not sleepin' with ya if you're not in the right state of mind."

"I walked, didn't I?"

"You fell."

Okay, fair enough.

So, you recite your alphabet. It's deliberate, and it's not too slow to cause any concern. As soon as you finish, he releases your wrists and grabs your shirt. It's the fastest your shirt has ever been removed, Stan's face immediately between your tits as soon as he's able. The stubble scratches as your skin, laughing slightly as he plants kisses against your chest. His hands reach around to your back, and you expect him to have trouble with it.

It's off before you can even blink.

"You're suspiciously good at that," you say.

"Aww, you jealous?" He laughs, sliding the bra off and tossing it somewhere behind him. "Don't worry, ain't nobody else gettin' the treatment you are."

"That's what you tell m-" you're cut off, Stan's tongue flicking against your nipple.

"Sayin' somethin', sweetheart?" He glances up, not giving you a chance to speak before he presses his mouth against your left nipple. You grab his shoulders, squirming against him as his tongue swirls around the hardened flesh. One arm wraps around your waist, grinding you against him while his free hand finds your other breast, kneading the flesh in his hand.

Your body feels like it's on fire under his touch. He plays with how much pressure he can put on you, rolling a nipple between his fingers while he sucks mercilessly on your other. Sweat beads on your brow, bucking against him while whimpering sounds escape you. "C'mon, sweetheart." He takes his mouth away from you, the cold air assaulting wet flesh. He playfully bucks his hips up, his cock grinding against you for just a moment. "Wanna hear what a good job I'm doin," he changes the arm that holds you against him, his other hand rising and brushing against the spit slickened skin.

Between the cold and his rough, calloused hand, you feel like you're already on the edge. "You aren't done already, are ya?"

"N-no," you mumble, tilting your head back and moaning as his mouth closes around the other nipple. Judging from the way his tongue flicks against your skin, he certainly appreciates the reaction. The way he sucks against your skin is greedy, teeth nipping at the skin. You're going to have bruises, you've accepted that. Your hands move from his shoulders to his hair, running through the gray, surprisingly soft, hair.

Using everything you can muster, you grind yourself against him. He groans against your skin, the grip on your skin tightening. He pulls away from you with an obscene sound, the words practically a growl in his throat. "Where's the bed?"

"Down the hall, last door on the right."

He gives pause for a moment, thinking. "Too far." He decides, aloud. Before you can process what he says, you're suddenly scooped up. You wrap your arms around him, tits bouncing as he hoists you around him. You leave the kitchen, and in a few feet, you're tossed unceremoniously on the couch. Your hands find the button of your jeans, getting them half way down your thighs before Stan takes over. They're off before you can even blink, Stan settling between your thighs. He picks one up, hooking your leg over his shoulder while he presses a thumb against your soaked panties.

You're already trembling, and your entire body jumps as he presses his thumb against your clit, rotating it in small painfully slow circles. He leans over you, grinning. "You want somethin'?"

"You know what I want," you breathe, fingers gripping the couch cushion.

"'Fraid I don't, sweetheart. You're gonna have to tell me." He lets up on the pressure, eliciting a whine from you. "I want your fingers," you reach out, gently touching his arm.

He's happy to comply. "Wasn't so hard, was it?" There's that smug fuckin' tone in his voice again. You expect him to pull off your underwear, but it doesn't seem like he's patient enough for that. Instead, he pulls them to the side, his middle and ring fingers sliding up and down against your wet cunt.

"W-wait!" You sit up some as he presses against you. "It's, uh..." you clear your throat. "It's been a while." You feel almost embarrassed to admit it, but with how thick his fingers are, and two of them? You don't wanna run the risk of getting hurt. He pauses, offering just the middle one to you in compromise. You make a face, and he laughs before he raises the finger to his mouth. He presses it against his tongue before dipping it back between your thighs. "Don't think that would've been an issue," you murmur as you feel him begin to slide into you.

You tilt your face against the couch arm, moaning as he buries the finger inside of you. "Bein' careful doesn't hurt," that's true, and you do honestly appreciate the sentiment. He moves his hand in a steady rhythm, the other hand keeping your legs spread apart. You bite your lip, and after a few minutes, he judges that you're ready for another and adds the ringer finger inside of you.

It's thick, and stretches you in the best possible way. "Feels good, don't it?" He leans over you, his face just a few inches away from yours. You don't know why it slips out - maybe you lapse back into what you were taught when you were younger. "Y-yes, sir." You pant the words out.

Stan's fingers stutter for just a moment before he thrusts them back into you, a moan immediately muffled by his lips against yours. He curls his fingers in the same way as before, the way that made your body shake like a leaf in his hand. "Like the way that sounds comin' outta you," he says the words against your neck, pressing kisses against your rapid pulse.

You can't handle it anymore. "Stanley," your voice teeters on the edge of breaking, fingers twisting in the Hawaiian shirt fabric. "F-fuck, Stanley, I-I.." the words die in your throat as he suddenly removes his fingers from your cunt. "W-what?" The words come out a whine, grabbing the shirt tighter and moving your hips to try and find his hand. "Stan," you groan.

"I can't have you all tired out before we get to the good stuff," he tells you. His hands move to the belt, making quick work of it. He slips off the khakis, positioning himself between your legs again before pressing the shaft of his cock against you, sliding against the slickness. You look between your legs, the head of his cock dipping in against your cunt before his hand tilts it up, bumping against your overly sensitive clit.

You're dizzy, just like before. Your head swims, biting your lip as he teases you constantly, angling himself and barely pushing himself in before pulling out. "You're lookin' desperate, sweetheart." He does a poor job of concealing his own desire, unable to take his eyes off your body. "Fuck, you're drippin'." He grins at you. "Still got it, huh?"

You suddenly brace your arms against his shoulders, pushing him back against the couch and straddling his lap. "You talk too much," the words come out in one rushed breath as you reach between your legs and grab the base of his cock, holding him steady as you bury him inside of you. A stifled moan escapes you as your body adjusts to his size. One hand grabs your waist, stilling any movement you might make, while the other grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at him. "You alright?" You nod your head, your lips slightly pursed from how he squeezes your face.

"Good," he breathes, releasing your face. His hand drops to your chest, holding your breast. As soon as you roll your hips forward, Stan can't keep his mouth shut. "Shit, fuck," his eyes are half-lidded, head resting against the back of the couch as you ride him. "You're tight as a fuckin drum, and hotter than hell." You smile, bracing your hands against the couch as you snap your hips forward, rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

Both of his hands are on your tits, thumb brushing over the nipples. "Perfect," he mumbles out. Sweat beads across your body, Stan's hand eventually traveling downwards and finding your clit again. The moan rips from your throat as the calloused finger pads press against you, an almost aggressive rub against you - but it's exactly what your body wants. "There ya are," he practically purrs the words out as you lean down.

Your lips catch his, sloppy kisses without much care, as long as you can kiss him. Your burning in every sense of the word, body and nerves as Stan grabs your ass, timing your movements with his own thrusts. He somehow manages to go even deeper inside of you, each thrust sending another wave of pleasure through you. "Stanley!" His name is barely above a whisper as he suddenly pushes you back against the cushions, back on top of you.

He takes a leg, hiking it over his shoulder and leaning over you, your body curling slightly. His pace is merciless, whatever words you had before devolving into incoherent moans of pleasure as they spill from your lips. It's when the orgasm wrecks your body that you swear to God, you see literal stars in your vision as you cum. Your body tenses, nails digging into his forearms so hard that you're a little worried you may draw blood. Stanley, somehow, has enough sense to pull himself from you, his cock sliding against you before he cums.

Thick, milky ropes land on your stomach and tits as he slows his thrusts, breathing heavily before slumping down over you. You're catching your own breath, a hand raising to his back and gently running up and down the now sweat soaked shirt.

"You good?" He asks, his voice somehow hoarser than before.

You can't really respond, offering a thumbs up in response.

"Huh, fucked you so good you lost the ability to talk huh?" Weakly, and playfully, you slap him.

"Asshole." He snorts, removing himself from you and sitting back against the couch. He looks at you. Then the mess on you. "Where's your shower?"

"Bathroom, which is in the bedroom." You yawn. Stan picks the boxes out of his khakis, sliding them on before bending beside you. "Put yer arms around me," you stare at him a moment. "C'mon, before I change my mind." You do as he says, looping your arms around his neck as his hands slide under your sweaty body, hoisting you up.

"Not too much for you, is it, old man?" You laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder.

"I can still drop you, ya know?"

"Mhmm." You mumblr. He feigns the drop, your grip tightening on him.

"Gotcha." He winks at you, but at this point, you're too tired to really fight back. Stan manages to open the door to your room and find the bathroom, setting you on the closed toilet. He reaches into the shower, turning the knobs and keeping his hand in for a moment. "You want it on the hotter or colder side?"

"Uh, hotter." The question catches you off guard.

"Figures, every woman wants it hot as hell." He adjusts the knob behind the curtain, taking it back and shaking off the water. "What?" He asks, raising a brow as you make a face at him.

"Just, uh..." again, you're trying to avoid sounding like an asshole. "Didn't expect aftercare?

"I may be a lot of things, and one of those things may be an asshole, but I'm not that big of an asshole." He sets his hands on his hips and you can't help but snort a giggle. "Up." he tells you, offering an arm. You stand on wobbly legs, leaning against him.

"Not sure how this is gonna work." You admit. "Kinda feel like a newborn deer."

"I'm gonna help you," he says. "Also, get a new metaphor."

"That's a simile."

"Oh, look at me, I paid attention in English." He mocks in a joking tone. "Just.. stand here." You do as your told, watching as he unbuttons his top and shakes it off, revealing the sweat covered girdle that's still wrapped around his waist. "You kept that on the whole time?" That's...kind of impressive.

"Done a lot more uncomfortable things, sweetheart." He says. He drops the girdle on your bathroom floor, gesturing for you to get in the shower. You do, Stan offering his arm for support as he follows you in shortly after. He keeps an arm around you, just below your breasts, in case you slip.

It does make you feel safe. You take the washcloth, soaping it up and slowly begin to scrub your body. The hot water feels amazing on your tired body, breathing in the smell of your soap and shampoo. When you're happily scrubbed, you turn in Stan's arms. "Your turn." You say.

"What?"

"You need to get clean too," you tell him. You don't let him protest, reaching over to your shampoo and squirting a pump into your palm and scrubbing it onto his scalp. There may have been a moment of protest, but it falls off quickly. His eyes shut, letting you work as you comb through his thinning hair. You take a few steps back, turning as carefully as you can so that he's under the stream of water. You work diligently, ensuring all the soap is off before you apply the conditioner and repeat it. He's strangely quiet the entire time, and yet you notice, he's relaxed. It's the first time you think you've ever seen his body this loose.

You grab the washcloth again, soaping it up again before pressing it against his chest. Now that there's no risk of soap in his eyes, Stan cracks one of his eyes open and looks down at you. "You're sweet, y'know?"

"Mhm." You hum in response.

"Seriously," he says. His thumb and forefinger catch your chin, tilting you up to meet his gaze. He leans down, the kiss tender, soft.

There's no intent behind it than affection. Somehow, it makes you feel hotter than what happened in the kitchen. You know you have the dopiest smile on your face, but at the moment, you don't care. You drag the rag over his body, his stomach, everywhere you can as he holds you close to him. When he's finally rinsed, he turns off the shower and carefully helps you step out. A few towels later, you're dry, warm, and exhausted.

You have a few oversized t-shirts that you used to clean the house in, and you manage to find one that fits Stan. There's no way he's making it home tonight. In your own pajamas, you climb into bed as Stan sits on the side of it. "Oh this thing is way comfier than your couch, no offense." He tests the springs, looking at you. "Maybe next time we'll make it to the bed."

"I'll hold you to that," you laugh. "Not tonight, though."

"What a shame," he winks. "You, uh, actually fine with me sleeping in here?" You're getting comfortable beneath the sheets, resting your head on the pillow.

"Stan," you start. "You were literally inside me. You can sleep next to me."

"You'd be surprised how often those two things don't go hand in hand," he remarks off-handedly. Your face creases in worry, about to sit up before he reaches out and pushes you back down. "Story for another day." He pulls the sheets back, sliding in beside you and staring up at the ceiling. A shiver runs through you, scooting closer to him and hooking a leg over his. He raises an arm, putting it behind you so that you're able to rest your head against his chest. "Don't get used to this," you know he doesn't mean a word of that.

"Goodnight, Stan." You stretch, placing a kiss on his cheek. You settle back down, shutting your eyes.

Gently, you feel the ghost of a kiss on the top of your head. "Goodnight."

You fall asleep to his heartbeat, something you think you'd enjoy getting used to

[lexithwrites]

ALEX WRITE THE SUGAR DADDY AU AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!! 🙇🏽🙇🏽🙇🏽

I HAVE MORE HEADCANONS

remus doesn't know how to drive and doesn't want to learn, he enjoys public transport, but regulus insists on his driver picking him up every single time and he's embarrassed at first but sometimes it is nice to know he's safe and not gonna miss his stop

regulus wears brands only and when remus takes him to a thrift shop at first he's kinda turning his nose up but then he sees brands and he's like wait,,,you can get that here? and starts to enjoy thrifting a lot more

he's also a big neat freak and germaphobe, he has a cleaner that comes in weekly and regulus usually goes out for coffee when this happens and always tips them so much, he's the best with service workers too, he'll always tip

he comes in every so often to surprise remus at his cafe and remus always gets shy and smiles when he sees him and regulus just wanders in, winter coat over his shoulders, hair perfectly styled, rolex shiny, clothes immaculate, and just wants to ride remus on the counter because he looks so hot and sexy after a day at work but he'll never admit that

it takes them a while to admit their feelings, neither wants to think the other pressured into anything, especially regulus because he doesn't want to make remus feel like he's using him or lying to him, or even trapping him with money to like him, but they're both head over heels for each other

regulus, when they're official, drops remus off at college and one morning he's feeling a little protective after seeing some girls look at remus and he kisses him so passionatley on the mouth as a goodbye that poor remus has to try and will away his boner before his ancient history lecture starts

regulus' cat adores remus, she always rolls over for him to rub her belly and wants to be held by him and regulus smiles a little every time he catches it

remus prefers baths and regulus prefers showers, but they've showered together and remus decides he kinda likes showers more now

regulus always pays, no matter what, he doesn't let remus touch anything when he's there with his card, but one day remus brings him a bouquet of flowers just because and regulus actually starts crying, he's never received something so thoughtful and lovely for no reason and with no expectation of anything in return

remus is a GIVER in bed and regulus loves it

they might have had sex on a pile of money before just to see how it would feel, it felt good

further into their relationship remus is just given a card from regulus so he can use it whenever and he eventually uses it almost every day, regulus loves that too

remus shows his love in physical ways like cleaning and cooking and he loves giving reg massages and washing his hair, acts of service is his love language for sure

[midsommarbearsuit]

💖Alphabet Boy-a Ford Pines x Reader Fic (18+)!💖

Hi! Still here still writing about old men lol. I wanted to write a fic in which the reader takes Ford's virginity and low key tops him. Small warning for breeding talk and VERY SLIGHT dubcon. Also shoutout to @cosmicdahlias they're eating it up lately with their fics.

THIS FIC IS 18+! NO MINORS!

Ok, enjoy!💘

You had been dating Ford for a little while, but not long enough to know everything about the man. In a lot of ways he was a mystery. You could tell his time spent in other dimensions had hardened him, and you were intimidated by the walls he built up. Even toward you, the one he loved, he could sometimes be cold, official, and distant, especially if he was working in his lab. He was an unknowable mountain of a man, tall and commanding and strange. However, this aspect of his personality only made you more intrigued and, frankly, turned on. You fantasized about having this man more than twice your age crumble beneath you in the best way possible. The only missing piece was how to make it happen.

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

The set you chose was lacy and pink, your outfit a tad more revealing than usual. You were determined to put your plan into action, no matter how much Ford demurred. The two of you hadn’t had sex yet, but you stayed up nearly every night touching yourself to the thought of it. You knew today would be the day. 

Ford sat at his desk, head bent and posture terrible. He was scribbling away in a new journal, pausing every now and then to rub his chin and stare off into the distance with unfocused eyes. You took special care making his coffee just the way he liked it, even adding a small splash of whiskey. You punched the code into the vending machine and made your way down into Ford’s lab, the cold air covering your exposed legs in goosebumps. You set the coffee down on his desk. He simply grunted in response, reaching for it without looking up. 

“Aren’t you gonna say thank you?” you asked playfully. 

“Thank you, dear heart,” he responded, using his favorite nickname for you. You simply stood there, waiting for him to look up. But no such luck. You knew you’d have to take initiative, unsurprisingly. You reached for Ford’s shoulders and began rubbing them soothingly. He moaned, rolling his neck a bit before going back to writing. 

“You should take a break,” you suggested, leaning forward so your breasts pressed gently against his back. 

“Can’t,” he grunted. “Sorry. I have a good train of thought going here.”

You sighed internally, frustration causing a lump to form in your throat. 

“Please sweetheart, I need to talk to you,” you said.

Ford simply didn’t respond.

Finally, your frustration got the better of you, rising up and coloring your face. You reached forward and swiped the coffee mug off the desk. 

Ford gasped, yanking his journal away from the spill. “Y/n!”

“I’ll clean it up,” you grumbled. And just like that, a golden opportunity presented itself. You grabbed an oil soaked rag from the desk before dropping to your knees in front of Ford, your back to him. You sank to your hands and knees, arching your back so your ass was on display. You felt the cold air through the thin fabric of your panties, your skirt riding up.

When you were done cleaning, you rose to your feet again and spun to face him. His jaw was slack, his eyes heavily lidded. He turned back to his journal, clearing his throat. You threw the soiled rag to the floor and put a hand on Ford’s shoulder, pushing him gently so he sat back, his legs slightly open. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, still seemingly clueless. The frustration you felt pooling in your core was steadily transforming into something else, something very familiar to you. You leaned forward and brought Ford into a kiss, intense and passionate. He made a choked noise, his hands stiff at his sides. You climbed onto his lap. You felt his erection rub against you.

“Did you like that view, sweetheart?” you whispered in his ear. “I knew you would…I wore these panties special for you.”

Ford stuttered your name, clearly overwhelmed. You dipped down and sloppily kissed his neck, feeling his skin rise with goosebumps. You ground yourself against his clothed length, getting wetter by the second. 

“Oh…” he moaned, his hips bucking up. You felt heat radiating off of him.

“You can tell me to stop,” you said quietly, reaching down and palming his erection. The noises that came out of him were far from the reserved, intelligent words he typically uttered. He sounded like a kitten, mewling into your neck. 

“Please I…I need to tell you something,” he begged. You stopped, looking into his deep brown eyes. 

“Y/n, I’m a virgin.” Your heart plummeted into your stomach “What?” You couldn’t believe this sixty-something year old man had never had sex before. 

Ford looked incredibly embarrassed, glancing to the side. You had never seen him so shy. “You heard me, dear heart. I’ve never ah…known a woman. Or anyone, for that matter.”

“I’ll be your first?” you said, voice hushed in awe. You couldn’t believe this incredible opportunity in front of you. 

He nodded.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. “Oh, in that case…” you said, returning to kissing his neck between words. “I say we move this to your bedroom. What do you think?”

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

Ford laid back on the bed, staring at you with huge eyes. 

“Do you want me to strip for you?” you asked. Pure power flowed through your veins in place of blood. You had never felt something so empowering in your life. This man, with his multiple degrees and his high IQ and all his life experience, was powerless against the raw, intimidating sexuality of your young body. You knew if he touched your skin, it would burn his hand. 

He nodded. “Please…strip for me.”

You grinned, taking your time removing your low cut shirt. Next came your miniskirt. You wiggled your hips as it fell down your legs. Ford sucked in a breath, his eyes roaming your body.

“Good Lord,” he muttered to himself, his hands gripping the bed sheets. You watched as his erection surged in his pants. You sauntered over to him, slowly climbing on top of him, keeping your bra and panties on. 

Ford wasn’t a small man. In fact, he practically dwarfed you. You straddled his hips, your small hands reaching forward to pin his large wrists to the bed. “Please tell me if you get uncomfortable, sweetheart,” you cooed before licking a line up his neck. You felt him shudder.

“You have to understand, I was never popular,” he was blabbering now as you kissed down his neck, his chest. “No one wanted me in high school, o-or in college…and then I fell into my research and it simply never came to pass…”

You nodded, your hand traveling from his wrist to his belt buckle. You deftly undid it, inching his pants down. You kissed down his happy trail before taking his cock in your hands. 

“Have you ever felt someone’s mouth before?” you asked sweetly, gazing up at him. He shook his head, his chest rising and falling rapidly. 

“You’ll enjoy this,” you grinned before taking him in your mouth. He was well endowed, and you could only take a couple inches before you started to gag. Ford immediately started bucking his hips so his tip pressed the back of your throat. His moans were high and sweet as he desperately yanked at your hair. You could tell he was immediately overstimulated, and you were hit with another intoxicating wave of that powerful feeling. You could easily become addicted to it. 

“Oh God y/n…” he groaned. “Slow down, darling…I don’t want to finish too soon…”

You did as he asked, giving his tip little kitten licks as you stared up at him to gauge his reactions. His entire face was bright red, splotches of it spreading down his neck and chest. His eyes were shut tight, and his six fingered hand remained buried in your hair. 

“No one’s ever made me feel this way,” he said. “Thank you…”

You removed your mouth from him with a pop. “There’s no need to thank me, Ford. It feels good for me too.”

You made your way back up, taking him into another kiss. You pulled your panties down and teased your entrance with his cock. His hands flew to your hips and he held on for dear life. 

“You’re not even inside me yet, Sixer,” you laughed. You took in the sight of him underneath you. Hair tousled, his arousal written all over his face, his pupils blown. He was normally so reserved, but he couldn’t hide now.

You sat up and began lowering yourself onto him in earnest, making sure to go slow. 

“Ask for it, darling,” you said, deciding to have some fun. “What do you want?”

“I-I…I want your…” Ford swallowed hard, visibly shy once again. “Oh, don’t make me say it…”

You moved up to straddle his stomach, crossing your arms. He whined, thrusting up so his cock rutted against the curve of your ass. 

“Cmon, smart guy. Normally you’re so good with words.”

“Your pussy,” he finally managed, practically pleading now. “Please, dear heart, I want to feel your pussy.” You grinned wickedly and moved downward once again, giving him what he asked for.

“My God,” he said, voice soaked in awe. You could tell he was having a religious experience as he gazed up at you with soft eyes. “Feels…oh, it feels…”

“How does it feel, Ford?” you asked, beginning to bounce up and down on him.

“Fucking incredible,” he finished. With that, you decided to  put on a show for him. You took your hair down, shaking it out and gyrating your hips. You unclipped your bra and pinched your nipples, licking your lips. He stared at you like you were his own personal porn.

“However did I get so lucky,” he moaned. “Such a beautiful creature…you know I’m going to draw this later.” This last part he said with some of his signature dryness, then he went right back to a whimpering mess as you clenched yourself around him. He was big enough to hit all the right spots, but you didn’t want to completely unravel. You were enjoying this control way too much.

“Such a dirty old man,” you said, even shocking yourself with your words. “Fucking someone so young…”

“I know,” he groaned. “It’s revolting, isn’t it?”

You nodded, the grin never leaving your face. You felt Ford swell inside you and could tell from the look on his face that he was close.

“Y/n…I’m going to-”

“I can feel it,” you said, bouncing harder and faster, milking his orgasm out of him. “Cum inside me, Stanford…maybe you’ll even get me pregnant…”

His eyes widened even more at that, and he shook his head. But even as his head shook, you felt him come undone inside you. He shouted your name, shutting his eyes and thrusting through it. “Ah…thank you,” he panted. “I couldn’t ask for better…”

You smiled down at him. “I’m not done with you.”

There was something like fear in his eyes and you continued to ride him. 

“I haven’t cum yet. You do want me to cum, don’t you?” you asked sweetly, biting your lip.

“You’re cruel,” he whimpered. “Please dear heart, I can’t take any more…” His moans were taking on a wild tinge, more and more of the walls he put up falling down around him as you reduced him to a trembling puddle of a man.

“I-I can’t…ahh yes…I mean no! Please, enough…”

You felt your orgasm coming. “It’s almost over, sweetheart…almost done…”

When you came around him he grabbed onto your hips hard enough to bruise, his voice going higher than you’d ever heard it before. After a moment that felt like an eternity, you removed yourself from him, feeling his cum dribbling down your thighs.

“I love you,” Ford said, his voice deepening once again. “That felt better than I could have possibly imagined. 

“I love you too,” you cooed, climbing into bed next to him and cuddling up to his solid form. In mere moments, you had both fallen into a content sleep.

[waves-against-a-cliff]

Maneater - Part One: Soap

Me and @groguspicklejar were talking about how it would be to a confident and competent part of task force...

Content Warnings - Riding, smut, choking, dub-con, blink and you'll miss it praise kink

Being introduced as the newest member of the task force and they're apprehensive.

You're soft, with nice curves and plush thighs and tummy. You don't look like a person up to being part of an elite task force. In fact, Soap later voices what they're all thinking when away from you. That you look more the part of a little house wife then someone with blood on their hands.

Oh but how wrong they are.

Seeing you in full gear was a game changer, the way the standard balaclava forced them to only focus on your eyes made them realize you're a storm.

A force to be reckoned with.

It only takes you crossing your arms and sending a glare at a mouthy recruit to get them to back off.

You're a team player too. Patting Soap on the back after a mission done well, fist bumping Gaz after a good shot, nodding at Ghost as an acknowledgement and following the captains orders.

But more than just those things make you a team player and Soap was the first to find out. He had got off the craft with a string of curses as he ripped off his gear while he stormed to the locker room.

No one noticed you slip off.

You could hear his curses and mutterings about the mission as you walked down the tile hall.

He was really in his own head because he didn't hear you. Shushing him with a finger to his lips and pushing him to sit down on the bench. Straddling him, your soft thighs on either side of his muscular ones as you tipped his head back and smashed your lips against his.

It was a flurry of clothes being pulled off, you bit down on his bottom lip as you stared into his cold blue eyes and lined yourself up with his cock. Going all the way down without a fight and not waiting for the burning to pass when you rocked your hips. The groan he let out was sinful and he went to bite your neck and breasts.

Wrapping your hand around his throat you pinned his head against the cold metal lockers. "No biting." You snarled as you picked up the pace and looked into his nearly feral eyes. His hands grabbed whatever they could, pinching your nipples or holding your hips to the point bruises would form or rubbing at your clit with his thumb.

You could feel the coil within your stomach growing taut as you bounced on his fat cock. The tip of him nearly reached your cervix, teasing that pinched feeling you get in your stomach.

Your grip tightened on his throat.

Soap looked up at you with wide blue eyes as his iron grip tightened further. "Fuck Bonnie, Ahm gonnae cum. Fuck fuck fuck," more curses left his mouth in a flurry.

You used one hand to control Soap's that had stopped rubbing at your clit. Each time you sank back down on his cock you could hear the squelch of it as your slick coated your own thighs and his.

"Come on, be a good boy and cum," you urged and his eyes rolled into the back of his head as his hips jerked.

His head lolled to the side and his hand on your hip twitched as you searched for your own end. Finally as it came crashing down on you, you sank your teeth into his hot cheek as your cunt spasmed around his cock. Soap gasped and twitched under you, writhing as your own climax triggered another from him.

You didn't wait for him to screw his head back on right. You got up with a burn in your thighs and aching knees. You pulled your clothes back on and fixed your hair. You patted his cheek as he panted and stared up at you. "Finish up Soap, I'm sure you got a debriefing to get to after this," you said and winked at him before you sauntered off with his cum staining your panties.

[pranparakul-siridechawat]

i fr can't stop crying over canon bisexual buck

[pinkd3mon]

I just wanted an excuse to draw my Galacta with a cape propaganda

[mondaymelon]

me n who ?!?!?!? ME N WHO GUYS ...

picrews: 1 2 3 4

mking silly girlfailure picrews are the only thing saving my sanity which took quite a number of blows today ( its hanging on by the measliest thread but i think its better to consider it go n e )

anyways i wanna make a silly tag game so we are going to make a silly tag game because in the wise words of martin luther king i think wait it was probably gandhi "be the change you wish to see in the world" arent i so cool guys im taking like the first step forward and :stareyes: ahahah

(no pressure) tags !! 🏷️ : @cienxpidity, @ilyuu, @anonbinaryweirdo, @suntoru, @tuesdayberries, @lume-nosity, @mrcrazyvillainvillainn, @ceneid, @amalythea, @xianyoon, @aeon-yao, @ryuryuryuyurboat, @auroratumbles, @snobwaffles, @the-white-void + everyone i probably forgot to tag (SPS IM SORRY) n anyone else whod like to join !!

[alan-in-the-outernet]

How will the cg react to figuring out that he is the cursor?

Well I don't want to say toooooo much because that's something I'll be writing out, so I do want to leave it for when I'm writing it out- but I can definitely say there's going to be a lot of shock... since in the Cursor Alan Au, the Color Gang, like canon, can see normal human Alan through the screen, and know he just controls the cursor...

So learning he's not out there anymore, but stuck in the Outernet, stuck in the cursor itself...? It's gonna be a big reveal.

Now if only Alan could talk... would certainly make the whole situation easier for all of them x3 at least in this situation though, suppose that's the trade for finally hearing the stick figures talk- now he can't vocally talk. Darn.

[weidli]

i know i won't be leaving here with you

[spotaus]

Thinking about Orchid and her connection to my take on Gender (because this was meant to be about her and the Crew but it just devolved into a character analysis kinda??? More trauma-dumping maybe???) This is very much an oc/personal rant so feel free to ignore it 🫡

So, Orchid started off as a character I didn't really think much of (hear me out this is going to be relevant) because I wanted to add a 'girl' character but didn't know what to *do* with her, y'know? She was always going to be the strongest one there, she had the odds stacked in her favor with her parents. She was always going to be the gloomy side-character to match Reset's energy. But I think she's gone through every stage of Generic Woman I could possibly find.

At first she was angry and abrasive (think Fell!Sans) where every other word was a curse and she was likely to throw the first punch then laugh as she kicks her enemy while they're down. This was when Reset was a cartoonishly self-centered villain whose goal was simply to prove others wrong. Then Orchid became a sort of sisterly figure. This was short-lived, but she was the one comforting people who Reset would torment, but would ultimately follow his orders, because at this point he was actually a danger and sadistic. And then there was the phase where the story mellowed out and she became the token Goth Girl who, yes she was strong, but was heavy on the 'whatever' energy. Then there was her Era of deep self-loathing and anxiety about her worth that held her back and made her a much more timid and meek character who would only lash out on occasion.

Now, Orchid is the best of those iterations I've written yet. She's calm, level-headed, and a natural leader. Her father raised those traits into her. But she's very reactive, and can be silly, and when she's comfortable it's likely that air of importance transforms into something more comfortable and familiar. She laughs loudly and grins wide, she likes loud video-games but loves to read in the quiet. She's extremely disciplined, and normally no one can get through her tough exterior besides her best friend, Reset. She does what she does for her own enjoyment, sure, but she's thought of every angle and makes her choice to help Reset and control the others with her whole chest. She still worries she won't live up to her invisible expectations, and that and her loyalty are her two driving forces.

I know that Orchid is important to me because she's the longest-running female oc I've had. I have a rough relationship with womanhood/girlhood and I know looking back that Orchid recieved every ounce of my distaste for being a woman that I could shovel into her. That never made her less of a character, she was actually always one of my favorites, and rarely was she a 'punching bag oc'. I just... projected onto her a lot. And she's a good sign of how I've learned who I am. I've decided that my own femininity is something I could live without. I'd rather not associate myself with it, and I'd like to leave it in my past, focusing on a future where I'm not tied down with any gender roles or expectations. That won't happen, but I've come to terms with it myself. Orchid though? I figured out through her that I don't have to hate women characters. My own distaste for my circumstances doesn't mean I have to push it onto my characters (on God I've never expressed anything rude to actual people, that'd be rude as hell and uncalled for, but I have a bad habit of disliking fictional women in media). So, Orchid is a well-roubded character finally. She has motivations abd goals and a *lot* more depth than I ever expected her to. She's happy with being a woman, she's content. She's not treated differently for it in unfair ways by those she cares about, so she doesn't mind it. She likes to wear pretty outfits and lets Reset add bows to her ribbons. She doesn't let being a woman hold her back in the slightest.

So, yeah. Orchid is one of my babies. If I ever leave this Fandom behind for good, she's one that's coming with (Ichor, Orchid, and Pretender all have human designs I can use elsewhere lol-) but in the meantime I'll just rotate her around in my brain for a while longer.

If I'm right, she's been with me for nearly 5-6 years and I went through a *lot* with her as an outlet. So, she's kinda just like an old stuffed animal. A lil ripped, matted fur, maybe a stain or two, but there's a story there and that makes it important beyond belief.

[nyxypoo]

tempting...

[clhampir]

one of my least favorite themes about the internet lately is non-american people complaining that americans are talking about american-centric issues on the internet and being like "nOt EvErYtHiNg ReVoLvEs ArOuNd YoU iDiOtS" and it's like. yeah buddy. that's why we didn't apply it to anywhere else in the world. we're talking about the specific issues we are facing as americans living in the states. the reading comprehension is atrocious

[knifegremliin]

these antidepressants sure are antidepressanting!!!

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

thinkbing about. him

[and-stir-the-stars]

@dire-kumori (this is, uh. This is gonna be a long one 😬)

It's completely fine if you're not up to date on the fnaf books, especially considering I haven't read any of them myself, lmao. I only know the things that the silly fnaf youtubers tell me is important in their theory videos, so. I don't know very much, and what I do know is probably very biased through their theory-crafting lenses.

But I enjoy me a good Evan and Gregory story, so I'd love to rant a little but more about them. I like the idea that Evan is hiding away somewhere in the Night Terrors recreation of his room, too terrified to leave it. He hides away somewhere that only a little kid would think to go/be able to reach, which is exactly why Gregory (who isn't THAT afraid while playing the game, but is a little menace who likes breaking the game's boundaries and trying to see where he can and can't go rather than playing the game normally) is able to find him.

Maybe Evan is terrified of Gregory at first-- after all, the details are hazy, but he clearly remembers how much the Stranger hurt him for so long, and who says this stranger will be any better? But Evan is terrified and alone and he just wants comfort. He thinks about the weird pictures on the wall of the family with blurry faces, how happy and safe they all look, and after a while of Evan being scared and Gregory trying to calm him, Evan can't help but notice that Gregory looks a LOT like one of the small blurry figures he sees in the family photos (ig technically Gregory should be nothing more than a pair of transparent floating arms if they're in a VR game, but I'll do what I want with no regard to the cruel constraints of logic). And Evan wants the happiness and safety he sees in those photos, so wouldn't it make sense to go with Gregory? (though, Gregory insists the kid in those photos isn't him)

Evan is so broken at this point that he doesn't remember his personality or his name. He can't answer any of the questions Gregory asks him about what things he likes or what he does for fun (though, the difference in technology thanks to them being born so far apart may play into that, too). Gregory has to help give Evan a name (Evan shudders for reasons he can't remember when Gregory suggests the name Freddy).

The last thing I'll say about the Gregory ending (such an original name, ik) is I'd like to think the two of them get out of the game eventually. Despite Gregory’s kindness, Evan still thinks he's too broken and the world is too big and scary for him to continue existing... and then the sun rises. At this point, Evan has spent what accounts to years/billions of nights desperate to survive long enough to see the sunrise but always being brutally murdered before he can. And then! Then Evan feels the light and warmth ghosting against his skin for the first time in god knows how long, he sees the brilliant pinks and oranges and reds of the rising sun, and he falls onto his knees with tears in his eyes. "I made it," he whispers. "I finally, really made it."

The happiness is almost enough to make his soul move on right then and there. But... it also fills him with hope that maybe this world and the people in it are worth surviving for after all.

Okay, moving on!

~

~

Oh gosh,, the idea of "Michael" trying to take control of the game in order to turn it into a safe haven for Evan!! It's such a painfully sweet idea... except, I can't help but wonder if Michael would even know what a 'safe haven' for Evan would look like-- let alone if the Fragment would know, since the Fragment has lost everything that makes Michael, Michael and is just the remnant of an instinct to keep Evan safe. I feel like the "safe haven" that the Fragment would make for Evan would end up being empty and hollow, devoid of any real meaning or happiness. It's nothing but an empty paradise filled with false promises of what the Fragment thinks a little kid SHOULD want but is devoid of the love and affection that Evan NEEDS. I'm having trouble coming up with any examples, though. Maybe it's like the Other World in Coraline, but instead of a greedy, hungry monster being in control of an empty world of lies, it's a monster that WANTS to help Evan but doesn't understand how.

~

~

And the idea of Glitchtrap using Evan against the Fragment is positively delicious :3

I'm going to make William and Mike a bit more sentient than you originally intended for a sec, though. I like the idea of a manipulative, silver-tongued William turning Evan against his brother. Maybe William even takes advantage of the fact that Evan (and probably Mike) never found out or knew why he got trapped in the Nightmare in the first place; maybe William frames the whole thing as Michael coming up with another way to torture Ev for fun. I wonder how Evan would respond. Would he listen to his father (whether or not Evan even recognizes this person as his father) telling him Mikey deserves this, take out his frustration on Mikey and hope that he can rest once Mike is gone? Or does Evan break, because as much as Mikey has hurt him, he doesn't want his brother dead?

And wouldn't it be interesting to see how Mike/the Fragment responds to Evan attacking him/it? The Fragment wants nothing more than Evan to be happy, so it must glitch the hell out of it when Evan tries destroying the Fragment. It's just like what you wrote about Mike being torn when Ev begs Mike to stop trying to save him in the Nightmare; the Fragment's entire existence is to keep Evan safe and happy, and it needs to be present so it can do that, but if Evan wants it gone... how is it meant to fulfill both objectives at once?

Though, I'm also curious about how this au could tie back into Security Breach. Maybe the Fragment does end up winning control of the game from Glitchtrap, so Glitchtrap runs to the only place he can: Vanessa. And maybe he drags Evan with him, or perhaps Evan goes *willingly* if it means escaping from the Fragment/Stranger that tortured him for so long. Security Breach still happens, but this time, Glitchtrap has Vanessa AND Evan under his control. Maybe he even uses Evan’s ghost to try tricking and manipulating Gregory as well. And all the while, Michael has to try to figure out how to get out of the VR game and back to protecting the ghost spirit whose name he no longer recalls.

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AND THE FRAGMENT BEING A YOUNGER MIKE IS SO COOL! Maybe it could be the reverse of what I described with Evan and Gregory, where Evan sees another lost and scared kid his age hiding away, just like him, and decides "i am not leaving you to face your horrors alone." Neither Evan nor Mike have any memory of who either of them are, but they're both lost and alone and terrified and cling to each other. They're the only thing that either of them has, and vow to get through this together, sort of the antithesis to how isolated they were in the Nightmare. Very depressing that it takes both of them completely losing all of their memories and will to live for them to trust and rely on each other without constantly hurting each other, but...

Maybe the two of them spend eternity forever without their memories. Or maybe like you said, they slowly find each other's memories in the game's coding, and they have to reconcile the horrible truths they learn about themselves and their pasts with the fact that they're *friends* now and don't want to lose each other