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tomiokas-lunchbox · 1 year

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what if sanemi and giyuu met as kids and became friends...

I just know that baby Giyuu would feel something from the first time he sees that smile. Giyuu would look at him with wide big blue eyes. Mouth slightly parted. Wondering where the little fluttering in his chest came from. Touching a small hand to his own soft pink tinged cheek. Trying to figure out why it felt hot. Not knowing what to do with himself after realizing Sanemi has stopped laughing and is looking at him with a serene smile. Giyuu looks away, and wonders if Sanemi's suddenly pink cheeks feel hot too.

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suprrstaar · 27 days

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kinitopet brainrot kinitopet brainrot kinitopet brainrot kinitopet brainrot kinitopet brainrot kinitopet brainrot kinitopet brainrot kinitopet brainrot

#kinitopet #kinito #kinito fanart #kinito the axolotl #my art #i luv him sm #pat pat #im gunna squeeze his eyes until they pop out #i cant stop listening to Everlasting Fun pls help #im scared bc I search for kinito fanfics and most of them are smuts of all kinds jm horrified 😭😭

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jesncin · 5 months

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I'm thinking of writing up some media crit essays here (or on cohost as I've already done a few there) because story analysis and review is just what I like doing! And with the DC fixation I'm on I've been itching to write some thoughts. An impressionistic list of topics:

Ma'alefa'ak character retrospective, all his different iterations and how his character evolved in recent years. I feel his character is easily dismissed as "the messed up cultist" but it's more complicated than that! I might have to watch YJ to make this a thorough retrospective though,,,

Asian Lois Lane retrospective! A comparative study of the 3 times Lois has been asian in media (maws, american alien, girl taking over) and how effectively cultural identity is considered in each reimagining. I don't really see much Asian perspective on these takes of Lois, so I think it's valuable to share my perspective here! Asian Lois Lane means so much to me,,,

An analysis on the depiction of race in MAWS. I had a fairly thorough conclusion on my thoughts over how characters of color are handled in MAWS in my insta story review, but there are details I completely missed out on that I feel is still worthy of discussing! Especially in regards of the optics of Superman being reimagined as a redeemed colonizer. And Thanksgiving. Something about Thanksgiving.

Yeah that's my brainstorm for now! If you want a taste of how I write these things, have a sample! "Lois Lane, Power Girl, and the fear of exceptional women" is up on cohost~ I just like writing, fellas. It wakes my brain up

#ramblings #jesncin talks maws #the need to ramble about fictional characters but in a well structured essay/review kind of way #i luv media crit it's my bread and butter to go into detail about fiction

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betweenblackberrybranches · 6 months

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Art that's like???? Midevil???? Like i could find it in an old building long abandoned. It's also very like, homey and comfortable looking. Like if I stepped into your art nothing bad would happen

💕💕yeee you get all the soft and comfortable art!

I often try for an artstyle that reminds me of the small black and white illustrations in childrens books, very comfy and nostalgic

#luv u btw #to be fair i just really like that medival vibe so a lot of the costumes and settings for my aus are kind of inapired by that #happy that the art carries the vibe<333

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thegirlwholivesin-delusion · 2 months

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Oh btww

@acewithobsessions

This is gonna remain in my inbox forever

And also this is your reminder that you are amazing and one of the best mutuals I could ask for

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵��🩵🤍🤍🤍🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🤍🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🤍🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🤍🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🤍🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🤍🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🤍🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🤍🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛

#I kind of tried to make my own version of do you like the colour of the sky but I think I failed (miserably)#oh well #still #sending a lot of luv to you <33333 #mutuals ♡#🩷 awo 🩷

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listerbirdloml · 8 months

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Good Land, or at Least it Was.

Summary: Two years after the events of I Was Born For This, Lister Bird relapses. It's a good thing his boyfriend and best friend love him so much.

Warnings: alcoholism, disordered eating, fears of suicidal intention (to be clear, there are none. it is just worried that there might be. only one line or so), self deprecating thoughts, strong language, slight derealisation, fear of kindness being repaid by intimate acts, and fear of saying no to these acts. (again, this does not really happen it is just a fear! only one line or so), preferably 16+ readers.

Ships: established Bicci

Word count: 2.6k

an excuse to write my pookie lister being cared for and loved

After almost two years of sobriety, there were bound to be bad days.

And there was. There were plenty of bad days. Days that made Lister itch for a joint. Made his brain beg for a drink of something. Anything. It was all just the process of recovery. He knew that logically. If he was any other recovering addict, he would be able to look at himself with compassion. He would understand that sometimes there are mishaps. Logically, that all made sense.

But when it came to that finger turning on himself, all he could feel was judgement. He had been clean almost since the day he woke up in a hospital with a broken leg and stab wound. He had been to rehab. He had spent six months at home with his mum. He had no excuse to relapse. An argument with Jimmy was just not good enough. It was selfish, even. How could he expect his boyfriend to want to stay with him if the threat of a relapse was constantly held over his head?

Lying on the sofa, blankets bundled up to his chin and gaze locked onto the ceiling above him, he knew he looked just as pathetic as he felt. He had only gotten up from the sofa three times in the past four days, only to go to the toilet. He hadn’t stooped that low just yet.

He hadn’t been eating right. He never did. Eating was boring. It took up too much time, too much effort, and it made a mess. Rowan hated the flat being messy, and Jimmy was prone to fright when he could hear pots and pans clattering about. He could have easily ordered something, but he didn’t want to get up to bring it in, and he really didn’t want to bother either of the other occupants of the flat.

After the fight on Monday afternoon, when Lister had disappeared for five hours and come home smelling like a brewery, the two had verbally made up. They had both said their apologies and given their forgiveness. But they hadn’t really spoken in the past few days Lister's been lying here. Jimmy would walk into the connected kitchen and pretend to not be staring, but Lister could feel his eyes lingering on the way his own useless body laid limp, swarmed by thick fabrics.

He can feel parts of his hair tangling in knots that will be the death of him when he eventually finds the strength to brush them out. He knows his clothes are dirty. They’re not the clothes he came home in on Monday night, thank God. Those particular clothes were probably thrown out by Rowan. There was no saving them from the upset of his alcohol-laden stomach.

If he had to guess, it was probably around six p.m. on Thursday. But he had no idea. His phone had died Tuesday morning, and he had made no move to go and get his charger.

There was a face intruding on his view of the white ceiling. It was Rowan.

"Allister." His voice is as deep as ever, holding firmness in a way that usually Lister would scoff at and make fun of. Right now, he could barely muster a smile. "You need to get up."

When the drummer went to reply, he didn’t realise how scratchy his throat felt. He hadn’t had anything in probably two days. Jimmy had left him a glass on Monday night, and he’d still been drinking it by Tuesday night. He just shook his head, but Rowan didn’t accept that.

"You need to eat. You need water." His hands had been resting on his hips, but now they were wrestling the blankets away from Lister. "You need a shower."

"You saying I smell bad?"

"Yes. I am." Lister did manage a small huff of laughter for that. He noticed on the coffee table next to him a fresh glass of water. He picked it up, his hands slightly shaky from the exertion.

"Lis, look at your hair." Rowan was sighing, bringing a hand up to gently touch the large knots where Lister had been lying down. "This is what happens when you don’t get up for over a week."

Over a week? Huh. Lister didn’t even notice. So it hadn't only been a few days since his last proper meal. And it definalty wasn't Thursday.

He made a swatting motion behind his head, and Rowan let go of the tangles. "I’ll get to it."

Jimmy was standing in the kitchen. Had he always been here? Lister smiled at him, happy to see the singer nonetheless. Jimmy tried to reciprocate the smile, but his face was his usual display of nerves and concern.

"I’ll get it. Just sit on the floor." Rowan instructed, taking a pillow and placing it on the ground. Lister hesitates for a moment before he musters up as much strength as he could and pushed himself onto the floor, his long legs tucked under himself so he was sitting cross-legged. The bones were as prominent as ever, likely a testament to his poor diet. Even before the night of his fight with Jimmy, he’d been neglecting his most basic need in honour of practising with Jimmy and working out with Rowan.

Rowan had disappeared down the hallway, and Lister could hear the door to his room opening. Jimmy rounded the kitchen island and entered the living room with his slipper-clad feet. He kneeled in front of Lister and took his hand. Lister smiled and squeezed it, bringing it up to rest against his heart. Jimmy had once told him since The-Day-We-Shall-Forever-Lay-To-Rest, that hearing or feeling Listers heartbeat was a huge comfort. It was confirmation that the drummer had survived. That those moments of cradling his body sat in a freezing river while Lister bled out hadn’t been the last they shared. That their story had ended before their favourite chapter had even begun.

"Am I still pretty?" He most certainly was not. His skin was oily and pale, his hair was a matted mess, and he most definitely smelled like a hamster cage. Jimmy smiled anyway.

"The prettiest." He answered easily, leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to Listers cracked lips. The drummer smiled and rested his head on Jimmy's shoulder when they had pulled away.

"I’m sor-"

"Uh uh. None of that." Rowan interrupted, managing to also interrupt Jimmy, who had been about to say the exact same thing. He had reappeared in the doorway, and in his arms held a comb, a bowl of water, and a jar of what was either shea butter or coconut oil. There was a towel draped over his shoulder, and he fitted it over Lister's shoulders when he sat down behind him on the couch.

Jimmy gently patted Lister's chest before he stood up from his crouch. "I’m going to make you something, you are going to eat it all. Understood?"

Lister never understood the twinge of fear at the mention of eating, but he wasn’t going to try and have today be his epic moment of discovery. He just nodded, and then let Rowan move his head backwards into the bowl of warm water. He let Lister rest his head in it for a few minutes; no one in the room speaking. Jimmy had turned on the Alexa, and soon the opening chords of Willow by Taylor Swift floated through the flat. Lister couldn’t help but smile. Evermore always had a calming effect on him ever since it came out, and Jimmy knowing to play it at this moment made his heart feel just as warm and fuzzy as it did when he first kissed him on the very couch he had spent over a week rotting on.

He couldn’t really tell what Jimmy was making, but he could smell melted cheese.

Rowan lifted his head out of the bowl, gently squeezing some of the water out before he began to apply what was definitely coconut oil to the particularly bad tangles.

This carried on for a fair few minutes, Lister leaning into the kind touch from his closest friend, his eyes slipping shut as Rowan slowly and meticulously separated the blonde strands and ran the comb through them. Lister would wince occasionally as his scalp was tugged, and each time Rowan would murmur his apologies.

He was about halfway done when Jimmy came back over. Lister had been humming along to Happiness as it played, but stopped when Jimmy once again sat in front of him. He was a lot closer this time, also sitting cross-legged. Lister could feel their skin brush at the point where their knees met. The bowl Jimmy was holding was filled with macaroni from a box; the one meal Lister was guaranteed to always finish. He also had another glass of water, but Lister didn’t want it. He just wanted his macaroni.

He held out his hands to accept the bowl and fork, but Jimmy pulled them out of his reach. Lister raised an eyebrow in question before he realised Jimmy was holding the fork up to his lips. It was already loaded with pasta, and Lister couldn’t help his smile as he opened his mouth and took the offered foods.

The two worked in silence, Rowan combing hair and massaging a scalp, Jimmy feeding and wiping a mouth. They both showed their love and dedication to their drummer in their actions. By the time Marjorie was playing, Lister felt as though he could cry. He was nearly done with his pasta, and his hair had been thoroughly detangled. He felt loved, even if he also felt he did not deserve it.

Rowan patted his shoulder, setting the water bowl and the other products he’d used onto the coffee table, Jimmy following with the empty pasta bowl. Lister expected annoyance. They had been so dutifully caring for him in the aftermath of a mistake he made. He’d decided to go out and find a drink after starting an argument with Jimmy, and then he’d let the decision leave him tethered to a couch for over a week. And yet, they hadn’t complained once. They were only worried. They cared about him. They loved him.

Jimmy wiped his cheek, and Lister noticed a few tears had fallen from his bloodshot eyes. He kissed Lister's forehead and then leaned back to look into his eyes. "Now, sweetheart. You really need a shower."

Lister laughs at that, nodding as he too wiped his eyes. Rowan moved so that Jimmy could help Lister up, the drummer's knees creaking as he stood after so long. He mumbled his thanks, making his way to the corridor. Jimmy followed him, however, making him pause.

"What?" He asked. He could see Rowan and Jimmy do that thing where they have a whole conversation with the twitch of an eye or the purse of a lip. Lister hated that. Hated that he would never be a part of their seemingly telepathic connection.

"I’m going to come with you." Jimmy finally vocalises.

"Why?" He looked at Rowan. He knew it was only right that he repaid Jimmy's kind service to him, but he really didn’t want to in that way. He was hesitant when he leaned in closer to Jimmy, whispering, "Jimmy… I- I really don’t want to-"

"No! Lis, baby. No, not that." Jimmy quickly clarified. As morbid as it was, he couldn’t help but be proud of Lister's confidence to speak up and say no. Even if that wasn’t what he had meant to insinuate at all. Rowan looked about as mortified as Jimmy.

"You’re just... you’re not very well right now, Lis." It was Rowan speaking. He had made his way to the doorway and rested a hand on Lister's shoulder.

"Are you serious?" Lister looked between his two band members, his temper spiking. "You’re putting me on fucking suic-"

"Allister." It was Jimmy. Listers neck snapped down to look at Jimmy. His tone had been steely, but his gaze was worried. "We love you. We’re worried about you. I just want to be sure you’re okay." Lister could feel his shoulders deflate. They had spent all night taking care of him and all week worrying about him, and yet within minutes of being up and walking again, he had already been so ungrateful. So eager to start another argument. He could only nod, accepting his fate.

Jimmy had a hand on his back, guiding him to the bathroom. Once they were in, he turned around and let Lister get into the bath. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen Lister undress before, but right now his priority was helping Lister understand that this was not a romantic moment but a moment of help. Of healing.

The drummer sank under the water, and Jimmy turned around and picked up the dirty clothing he’d been wearing so that he could throw them in the washing basket across the room. Lister was resting with just his nose above the water, the bubbles he had added covering the water. He watched Jimmy as he moved around before he dunked his head under the water. Just as Jimmy was about to begin panicking, he rose back up, face and hair soaked. He began scrubbing at his arms with the washcloth Jimmy handed him.

"I’m sorry." It was Jimmy speaking, and Lister looked up in confusion.

"What for?"

"I shouldn’t have shouted at you. The other night." Lister kept scrubbing his skin. "You were just trying to… to spend some time with me." Jimmy's voice sounded shaky, but he seemed determined not to cry.

Lister wanted to object, to push the blame onto himself where it rightfully belonged. But he didn’t. He just smiled, dropping his rag and taking Jimmy's dry hand in his wet ones. "Its okay." He reassured, and Jimmy leaned in. The kiss was brief—nothing particularly spectacular. Lister's breath tasted like cheese, Jimmy's lips were chapped, and Lister hadn’t shaved in a week. But they didn’t care. Both their hands were resting over his heart once again.

"You really need to shave." Jimmy broke the gentle silence, making Lister laugh again.

"You don’t like my rugged look?"

"Rugged? Love, you look like a thirteen-year-old trying to grow a beard."

"Wow. Ouch." Lister smiled, kissing him again.

When Lister deemed himself clean, Jimmy helped him up and drained the bath. With instructions to wait until he was back, Jimmy went to their shared room and grabbed a pair of shorts and a fuzzy quarter zip for Lister. He came back to the bathroom to find the drummer wrapped in a large fluffy towel, his head poking out over the top of it. Jimmy couldn’t help but kiss the wet and clean hair, smelling the shampoo Lister used.

"Thank you, babe." Lister hummed as he got dressed. When he was done, Jimmy once again sat him down on the edge of the bath. Lister sighed but went along with it.

"I can do this myself, you know." His tone is lighthearted. Jimmy rolls his eyes, taking out shaving cream and one of Listers fancy razors. He had bought them on a whim, the metal handle feeling nicer in his hands than standard Bic razors.

"I know you can. I just want to."

Soon, Lister was clean, shaved, fed, and warm under the blankets of their shared bed. His head was resting on Jimmy's chest as they watched a movie, Jimmy's hands resting in Listers smooth hair and mindlessly playing with it.

There was still a nagging voice in his brain. It was telling him that all the hard work he himself and those around him had put into assisting his sobriety over the last two years had gone to waste. That he had only sealed his own fate as a failed sobriety project.

But under warm blankets, with his head resting on the chest which homed the heart he cherished the most, Lister was sure things would be okay.

#i was born for this #iwbft #osemanverse #lister bird #jimmy kaga ricci #rowan omondi #the ark #bicci #bicci fic #title from You're Gonna Go Far by Noah Kahan #because of course it is its me were talking about #a little sad on listers end but his bandmates luv him #my third project pls be KIND

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macfrog · 7 months

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Not to sound like too much of crazy fan, but I genuinely feel like you're some really famous writer doing this for fun because holy shit is your writing good! Seriously, the level of description and 'setting the scene' you manage to achieve is pure talent mixed with obvious hard work. The stories are absolutely amazing and so well thought out, but your writing.... wow... just wow. Please hold a master class in writing or something, although I doubt what you have is something teachable. Be proud of your writing. It's amazing, and you're amazing! I appreciate the hell out of you. Keep it up!

feel like now is as good a time as any to tell you guys that i’m actually colleen hoover. and i see y'all DISSING my fucking BOOKS in my REPLIES #teamlois #mrsloismiller #readersmomahoe

#me popping 30 beta blockers before stepping up to the podium forgetting my first name and losing feeling in both my knees #my masterclass in: crippling anxiety #love u sm though this is terribly kind #chats w max #anon #fic luv

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boxwinebaddie · 2 months

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Is Chef alive? Like please tell me that man is still out there living his best life.

chef is...Alive.

but i wouldn't say he's living his best life, no.

( sigh...tw for sexual assault, coercion and violence )

so basically, when stan figured out that e.t. tenorman was cartman, which, an anon asked if if stan knows e is cartman...yes, he does.

and all too well.

his music savant boy synesthesia went crazy when cartman started talking the first time they reunited and he couldn't place why this man he'd never met before sounded oddly familliar and why...

his voice sounded like the worst sound in the world.

but he didn't need to wait long for his answer, because right before their first big band meeting ended and all the music/marketing execs, scott, jimmy and kenny left the room, cartman caught stan by his shirt front, yanked him violently towards him and whispered...

"hello, shannon." ;)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA FUCK YOU!!!!

so basically cartman is black-mailing ravenstan into being complaint and doing whatever he wants and honestly, more than telling people that raven is stan...e knows that stan doesn't care about himself, he doesn't care about getting hurt/what happens to him...but that the way to hurt him...

is by hurting other people.

specifically the people he cares about.

so when ravenstan tries to back out of the band bc fuck this, who cares if it's his dream, it's not worth this...it's fucking not.

so stan is like "what. do. you. want."

and cartman is like..."what i've always wanted, of course..."

"your compliance, your undying devotion..."

"your body."

AAAAAAAAAAAA I HATE YOU I HAAATE YOU

i want to Scream, oh my GOOOOD!!!!! FUCK YOU

and then he's basically like "here's the deal, sh@n..."

( he misgenders stan a lot by the way...please die )

"either you give me what i want, whatever i want, whenever i want or else everyone around you, all the stupid, silly little people you love...will suffer for your spite and disobedience. is that clear?"

and stan just rolls his eyes like "fuck you, cartman. you're all talk; that's all you've ever been. all bark no bite, you fucking purse perro."

and cartman is like..."oh?" takes his phone out, dials a number & says

"do it."

and about ten minutes later, kenny calls him and is like

"stan??? S-STAN??? ARE YOU THERE???"

"DAD HAS BEEN SHOT."

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA FUCKFUCKFUFKC

and stan is crying and screaming like "oh my god, oh my god, fuckfuckfuck!!!!! is-is he okay...ken, is he--is he--"

glaring at cartman, ready to lunge, shocked, horrified...

Disgusted.

and ken replies "no...no he's...he's alive. it was just his shoulder, but, oh my god, stan--holy FUCK. we have--we have to go see him, stan!!"

and stan wants to tell them it's this PINCHE PENDEJO CARTMAN who terrorized him his whole childhood, but cartman just shakes his head and mouthes 'no' then lifts his finger to say 'shh' and then takes that same finger and runs it across his throat as if to say...

'talk and i'll kill him.'

so stan's face crumples bc he's Helpless and he has no choice, so he just chokes back a sob and is like 'no, we can't. we have this record deal. we have to sign the contract tomorrow. it's—it’s important."

and kenny is aghast like "mORE IMPORTANT THAN DAD ALMOST DYING??? STAN!!! WHAT ARE YOU EVEN SAYING, FUCK THAT WE HAVE TO SEE DAD, WE HAVE TO--"

and stan just goes "We’re. Not. Going." and hangs up.

cartman snickers and smirks and stan's face's so mad and sad. he wants to scream like this is so fkn horrible this is his worst nightmare

...then chef calls him.

dad.

the only dad he's ever known.

and cartman just smiles and goes

"tell him you hate him and you never want to see him again."

and stan is shaking his head, he's practically pleading, shouting

"nonoNONONO!!! anything. pl-please don't make me do this, p-ple--"

but cartman simply commands

"or else."

so chef on the phone is like "h-hey, blue. look, i'm okay, i'm okay. don't cry, i know how you are kid. i'm gonna be alright, it's gonna take more than some dumb bullet to put your old man in the ground. the whole thing was so odd...? they think it was...a stray bullet. crossfire. gang stuff. you know how it is out here. but it just 'minded me of how short life can be, how fast things can go. so don't worry. and i know...i know i was cross with you and ken for leaving. i know i said it was a useless dream and you two would come home all heartbroken with your tails between your legs...but you're making a real name for yourself! well, a fake one, i suppose, hah. but i just wanted to say...that i'm real proud of you, kiddo. and i--i miss you.

i love you, stanley."

and stan's just listening, crying wordlessly, clutching his phone so hard that his knuckles go white and all he wants to do is tell his dad he loves him and he's sorry, he's so fucking sorry, this is all his fault, this is all his fucking fault like always, for dreaming to big and being oblivious and a fuck up and getting everyone wrapped up in his mess

but he can't...so in a deadpan with his eyes shut, all he says is

"i hate you."

and chef's like "haha, real funny, stan. but if you're tryna hurt my heart to distract me from my shoulde--"

and stan just interrupts him in the same terse, robotic voice.

choking back sobs and screams, shaking so hard he can't see.

"listen to me. i never...i never want to speak to you again. ken...ken feels the same. don't call me. or them. don't call here ever again. ever. don't try and reach out, don't look for us. things are different now."

and chef is so confused and sad and scared like he literally just got shot and somehow this is worse...this is so much work. so with his heart breaking in his voice, he says...

"is that...is that really want you want, son?"

and stan just goes...

"it's..."

and he can barely say it, holy fuck. but he does and it's

"what i want."

but that's not all.

oh, no, my friends.

because it's time for the big finish.

the stan finale.

ravenstan grits his teeth, tears and blood in his mouth, then says

"and i'm not your son.

you're not...

...you're not my real dad.

never have, never will be.

goodbye."

and clicks off and FUCK. it's not true, it's all a fucking lie. but he needed to say something that hurt so badly that his dad wouldn't call him again...something so excruciating that it would end it all.

and cartman just gives him a round of applause while stan is sneering and seething and sobbing because he just had to do the second worst thing he's ever done in his life and cartman is...

clapping and cheering.

it's sick.

and cartman's like "bravo. that was quite the performance, marsh. you're quite the little actress, aren't you?"

AAAAAAAAAAAA I'M SO MAD!!! DIEDIEDIIIIE

this is all part of a very horrible flashback chapter way in the future and i will say that it ends...with cartman telling him to do something, the awful sound of his belt unbuckling...

and stan's knees hitting the floor.

I'M SICK!!!!! AAAA!!! and it's so horrible because it's his whole life, it's his dad all over again ( yes, i'm disgusted ) and him threatening to punish shelley and sharon if he doesn't comply, it's all the horrible men at ruffians, their horrible, hungry hands and mouths and stares all over him so he could sing on fridays. and now it's being indebted to cartman, being trapped again, forced to do disgusting shit. Again.

one bird cage to the next...who cares if it's golden, right?

but yeah, the boys get signed, everyone is super excited and stan's like yay...yippee...this is so fun. kenny, ofc, thinks that chef just cut ties, decided he doesn't support their dreams and that's that. also the other boys slowly get coerced by cartman in different ways...i will say that kenny is super addicted to coke and cartman is basically using that to control them and keep them disillusioned and devoted.

one last thing is that during marj's party in the cd manwhorsion during my second favorite chapter, cartman is talking to kyle and the blondies haus and is like 'i see you've met my songbird...pretty isn't she? well trained too. sings whenever i ask, isn't that right, raven?'

and idk his hand is like halfway up raven's shirt and raven is just laughing and nodding looking so ready to die, downing his drink.

and once he gets away, raven is bolting for the door and kyle's super concerned like 'hey...are you okay? that guy...i don't like the way that guy was talking to you." super protective crush mode jersey activate.

and stan's just like "don't, kyle. it's fine. i-i'm fine...."

and kyle is like "you don't--you don't look fine, raven...you look..."

and stan, who never raises his voice is like

"I SAID LEAVE. IT. ALONE. JERSEY.”

and storms out.....aaaaaaaaaa fuck we're in hell.

anyways! cheers! mazel! enjoy your horrible, deplorable, hurt no comfort lore that makes me want to literally Krill Myself.

-uncle nina, who is going to murder rm!cartman w/ my bare hands

#okay please don't read this post if you are at all uncomfortable with the tw topics or dark themes in general #unfortunately rm is not pep and while pep is dark...this fanfic is very fucked up v bad things happen to it and to the ppl we luv #god the way stan just continues to be trapped in horrible situations that make him sick and has no agency and is a marinette #i hate everything so bad he is just literally doomed i love him so much he sacrifices so much for everyone around him #my sweet sweet lovely kind angel boy #you don't deserve any of this i'm so sorry my love #oh my god i'm so fucking sad why am i like this #i couldn't just write a NICE fanfiction like man COME ON #oh i just know when kyle finds out its so over #like he is going to beat him bloody #everyone who has ever laid a hand on stanley marsh is going to lose it and then their life #not the kyle when he’s vulnerable and shaken but the jersey when he’s trying to push him away #I HATE IT HERE I LOVE U STAN I LOVE U BABY

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