#stan

[stanleyurine40]

This will never not be funny to me .

So Bill, you didn’t hear this from me but apparently Stan is vers so... you gon smash that or would you rather he pound your Bill-cakes?

My w-w-what?

- Bill

I never thought I’d die laughing, but here I am.

-Stan

[gloomingstar]

- "Dance with me, Stanley."

[nameshowdown]

Stan Showdown (Stan Off) - Round 1

[sorbetjellyisathing]

Stan Pines sprites unlocked! Ive done only four today cuz i got eeby :P

btw a lot of these are placeholders/concepts! (hey also, does anyone have tips for writing visual novel plots? im really bad at comitting myself to write "scripts"...)

[kippitykappitycheerio]

Something a bit silly!

[luliqwq]

Some icons I did of the bbys :'3, redraw of their school pictures

[amnestrie]

"Well, I can always count on you for a warm welcome."

[marieevi-art]

:)))

[blabberoo]

headcanoning Ford is a much bigger menace than Stan during highschool days but he gets away with it..

[barnesnatts]

SEBAASTIAN STAN, 'Oh my god, Sebastian Stan, man you looking good!' 

[strawbebe-dk]

He hasn’t had a hug in like 10 years huh

[betteravebio]

Light practice with Stanley Pines ✨

[imtaashu]

𝙲𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚔📸

(Teaching Him to Use Polaroid Camera 📷 )

✮ Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader ✮ Summary: You try to teach Bucky how to use your Polaroid camera. He ends up more interested in taking pictures of you than anything else. One kiss. One photo. That’s all he wants… or so he says. ✮ Genre: Soft Fluff, Domestic Vibes, Clingy!Bucky, Hurt-Your-Teeth Cute ✮ Word Count: ~2.3k ✮ Warnings: None, unless you count excessive pouting and unrelenting affection 💌Author Notes: This one’s pure mush. Like sticky marshmallow fluff on a warm day. Clingy, pouty Bucky, armed with a Polaroid and zero chill, is here to ruin your day in the sweetest way possible. Inspired by the idea of him just wanting something to hold onto when you’re not home. 😭 🩷 Please enjoy — and yes, he will ask for another photo in the middle of the night. Based on ✦ this ✦ request.. thank you @buckyismysafehaven 🫶🏻 ✦ welcome to my bucky brain rot. masterlist lives here ✦

───── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─────

“you know this isn’t a weapon, right?” you ask softly, raising a brow at bucky, who’s holding the pastel blue polaroid camera like it might explode.

“are you sure?” he replies, squinting suspiciously at it “feels like it’s got a mind of its own.”

you giggle, gently pushing his arms down “babe. it’s literally made of plastic.”

“so are landmines in cartoons.”

“okay, soldier,” you tease, taking it from his hands and showing him, slowly “this is the lens. this is the shutter. this button here—”

he cuts in, voice low and all heart-eyed “you’re really hot when you go all teacher mode, y’know that?”

“bucky.”

“sorry.” (not sorry at all.)

✦✦✦

ten minutes later, he’s already used half the film.

not one photo of furniture like you suggested.

just you.

you tying your hair up.

you reaching for the remote.

you laughing with your head thrown back, nose scrunching just right.

“you were supposed to practice with objects, not your emotionally-unavailable girlfriend,” you say, flopping dramatically onto the couch.

he hums, carefully tucking the latest photo into his wallet “the couch doesn’t smell like vanilla and steal my hoodies.”

you peek over. “what are you doing with that one?”

“backup.”

“backup??”

“yeah. in case you go to the grocery store without me again and i spiral.”

✦✦✦

click. you blink. “did you just take one without asking?”

he smiles, slow and sleepy, cradling the photo like it’s treasure.

“you looked real soft just now. had to keep it.”

“you can’t just collect pictures of me like—like trading cards.”

“why not?”

“because i probably look weird in half of them!”

he walks over, lifts your chin with gentle fingers “you’ve never looked weird. not to me.”

twenty minutes later, you’re wrapped in a hoodie that almost eats you alive, legs tangled in a blanket on the couch.

“don’t even think about it,” you mumble, not even opening your eyes.

“i didn’t say anything!”

“you don’t have to. i can feel it. you’re staring at me like i’m a sunrise.”

caught. he pauses, camera halfway to his face “okay, but hear me out: the angle? god-tier. the light? holy. your face? illegal.”

you groan into the pillow “you’re ridiculous.”

“you’re breathtaking.”

“that’s not gonna get you another picture.”

“…worked seventeen times already.”

eventually, he curls up beside you, cheek smushed against your shoulder, arms tucked around your waist.

he’s quiet for a while—just tracing little patterns on your skin then, he whispers, shy “can i take one of you kissing me?”

you blink. “like… a photo?”

he props himself up “yeah. just one.”

you hide under the blanket “nooo, that’s so embarrassing!”

“what? why!”

“i don’t look cute when i kiss. i squint weird.”

he gasps like it’s the most offensive thing he’s ever heard “your kissing face is my favorite face!”

“bucky—”

“i’m serious! that’s the face that says you love me.”

You stay quiet.

he softens, leaning down with a pout so genuine it borders on tragic.

“baby.”

no response.

“baby please.”

silence.

“you don’t love me.”

you peek out. “bucky.”

“you don’t. that’s why you won’t let me have a picture. my heart is broken. i might cry. this is the end of bucky barnes as we know him.”

you start laughing.

he immediately flops into your lap with a dramatic groan.

“just one photo of my girl loving me. is that so much to ask?”

“you’re a menace.”

“i’m your menace.”

finally, you give in. one kiss. one photo.

he sits up straighter than a soldier, camera ready, eyes wide and sparkling like he’s about to meet santa.

you lean in. kiss him softly.

click. his lashes flutter. His hands tremble slightly as he gently fans the developing photo, like it’s sacred.

and when the image comes in?

he just whispers, barely audible “…wow.”

later that night, while he’s asleep, you find the photo tucked into his wallet next to his dog tags.

you trace your thumb over it and smile.

he stirs, catches you looking.

“needed something to hold onto when you’re not home,” he murmurs.

“bucky, i was gone for ten minutes today.”

“and they were the longest ten minutes of my life.”

next morning, there’s a new polaroid stuck to the bathroom mirror.

you, fast asleep, curled into his chest on the back, in his boyish handwriting

“this is what peace looks like.”

and when you roll your eyes and tell him he’s obsessed?

he grins without missing a beat

“with you? yeah. obviously.”

-end

[morcian-draws]

This one's titled Time Travel Destroys Children’s Dreams.

I can’t believe I forgot to post this, it’s super old

[minatist]

theyre reading lil stanley