Going by the headcanon that both Dipper and Mabel get taller than Stan (and therefore Ford too) I decided to draw a really dumb height chart! Stan is clearly not happy about being the shortest haha (tho he’s secretly proud of his nibblings for getting so tall and strong)
Hey! Time for that normal fluff :)!What woyld happen if Eddie was shoving little love notes into Richie's locker every time he could?
“Man, someone really wants to get in my pants!” Richie’s voice shouted with amusement from a little ways down the hall. Eddie continued to stroll over casually, the thick dust in the schools air made him cough a little.
As he approached, Richie was waving around a familiar small, ripped sheet of blue paper. Beverly looked over his shoulder, her sucker Rolling to the left side of her mouth. Richie flicked it and held it up to her eyes, seemingly proud. She popped the treat out of her mouth, lips a little swelled and shook her head. “Roses are red, Violets are blue, your jokes are shit, but I love them too.” She read, thumb grazing at the corner of the note.
“It’s the third one I’ve got this week.” Richie ripped it from Beverly and placed it back in his locker. She nodded, eyes wandering over to Eddie as she pushed her sucker back past her lips.
“Y'know any girl who could be doing this?” Richie asked and Beverly shook her head.
“I know of no girls who’d be sending cute poems to you.” She chuckled and Richie crossed his arms. “But…” She glanced back at Eddie. The smaller boy gave her a panicked look. “Then again I’m not too great at figuring out secret admirers from poetry.” She shrugged and started on her way to class, bumping Eddies arm encouragingly as she left.
“Ya heat that Eds? I’m desirable.” Richie turned to the smaller boy with a laugh, Eddie finally approached to stand next to him and rolled his eyes. “Y'know maybe these are from your mom-”
Eddie whipped Richie’s arm so fast, he barely even realized he’d done it. “Ow, jeez Eds. No need to be jealous, I still think you’re the cutest Kaspbrak.” Richie reached over to pinch Eddies cheek. Eddie slapped his hand away.
“Don’t do that, I hate it when you do that.” Eddie composed himself again as Richie grinned.
“Sure you do. C'mon Eddie, class awaits.” Richie gestured for Eddie to follow him, and as always Eddie did.
“You think I could get Mike to tutor me in History? My grade took a serious dip after that test-”
“Attention Lads and Lady! For I need your help!” Richie plopped down next to Stan, who rolled his eyes immediately and bit into his sand which. “Mrs. Wilson didn’t like my joke last class so she’s having me grade everyone’s tests.” Richie flopped the tests and the answer key down on the table.
“Are you changing your grade?” Stan asked with discouragement in his eyes. Richie mocked offense.
“You’d think with your giant nerd glasses you’d be smarter.” Eddie chuckled and Richie scoffed.
“Hey, I copied off of you so if I failed, you failed.” He jetted his finger out sassily and cleared his throat. “Anyway.” Richie pulled out another familiar small ripped sheet of blue paper and looked up with an evil grin. Eddie swallowed harshly.
“I know whoever this admirer is, they’re in Mrs. Wilsons class cause she’s the only teacher that has colored paper!” He flicked the blue note again. “So I need you guys to help me compare hand writing!”
Stan was surprised Richie had come up with an actual sound plan and was about to agree to help when he caught sight of Eddie in his seat looking positively green. He was shaking his head back and forth. Stan widened his eyes. ‘Oh’ he thought. Beverly seemed to notice as well and she bumped Stan’s arm. ‘Do something’. Stan reached over and took the tests like he was going to help but quickly knocked them all onto the floor. “Oops!”
Beverly held back a giggle and Richie scowled. “Look what you did, noodle arms!” He bent down to pick them up but Stan and Beverly did as well and did their best to stall before Richie could get them. They’d succeeded, as the bell rang Richie scrambled them together. “Man I was suppose to have these done by this period!” He scrambled up and out the lunch room doors.
“Thanks guys.” Eddie said in a small voice and they shrugged.
“You should just tell him you know.” Stan suggested. “I mean, he thinks you’re the greatest.”
Eddie shook his head. “No, he’s always teasing me.”
“It’s cause he likes you…and he knows you secretly love it.” Beverly chuckled and Eddie blushed.
“Just something to think about.” Stan smiled softly and pat Eddies arm as they walked out.
Eddie had been pacing at his locker since he’d got there, extremely early too. He’d slipped his note into Richie’s locker and darted away as quick as humanly possible to where he stood now. Bill was watching him with a small smile and bit into the breakfast that he was forced to take on the go.
“So w-w-what’s it say?” He asked in his best sing-song voice and Eddie frowned. He’d not wanted to do this but Stan and Bev had somewhat convinced him.
He’d nervously asked Ben and Mike what on earth he should write. Ben had given him classic advice. “Write what you feel.”
Mike had pat his shoulder and nodded. “You’re gonna do great.”
So Eddie assured himself with Mike’s voice in his head.
“No fucking way!!” They snapped their heads around at the sound of Richie’s shout. Not too long after, Richie shot down the hall and tripped right in front of them but quickly hopped up to play it off. Bill laughed.
“You sneaky shit. It’s you-.” Richie cut himself off to breath and push up his glasses. Eddie blushed. “That’s great Eds!”
“Really?” He squeaked
“We’re gonna have so much fun!” Richie threw his arm around the smaller boy. Bill smiled, proud.
“So what’s it s-s-say?” Bill asked and Richie gave him the note.
'You can keep calling me Eds, and I’ll keep telling you I hate it but just know I fucking love it!’
i hope the fake ass bitches who stopped stanning jongin because he was dating soojung don’t come back to stan him just because they broke up. you should have been by his side the whole time ?? if you were mad that jongin was dating someone else other than you, honestly, grow up. i’m sorry honey, but it’s not like you’re going to date or marry him. if you were a real jongin stan, you would have supported him the whole 👏 damn 👏 time 👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏
Barry’s only serious slip up was the whole proposal issue, and even then he was misguided in his desperation to protect her.
That boy bends over backward to make sure she’s safe & happy & feels loved. He supports her in her career & never ceases gushing abt how much he loves her & how amazing she is. He does things like turning their kitchen into iHop & making her name in flowers & speeding them out to a romantic dinner in a gazebo on the waterfront.
That boy KNOWS he’s lucky to have her. He worships the ground she walks on. His one desire when leaving her to go into the SF was to keep living her life, keep being the amazing, fierce ray of sunshine that she is & keep RUNNING.
Iris is a saint & that whole proposal business was screwy, but he’s MORE than made up for it since then. Let’s not pretend like Iris isn’t just as lucky to have Barry as he is to have her. Barry is more than his screw ups, and he’s made up for them every time. Devoting his year to saving her life and then sacrificing the life they’d hoped to have together to save the world and her??? You can’t get much more selfless than that.
Plz stop hating on Barry for being human in the face of tragedy. Not everyone can be as perfect as Iris West.
But Jaebum is having an affair with their own son, Youngjae.
But it’s okay because Jinyoung is having an affair with his two sons-- Mark and Jackson (who are boyfriends)
–Wait is Mark considered a son? He’s older than his eomma and appa. How is that even possible?? Lolol
But there’s more, Jackson is not only having an affair with his eomma but with his baby brother, Bambam who has a boyfriend named Yugyeom, which is also his brother
Yugyeom, a giant baby who is loathed by his eomma but not really because he’s just playing hard to get. They’re probably having a relationship as well because they fight and tease each other so much, which for some people say is TRUE LOVE.
TBH, EVERYONE WANTS JINYOUNG BUT HE’S JUST PLAYING HARD TO GET!!! NO ONE CAN RESIST HIS CUTE FACE. YOU SHOULD LOVE, NO, YOU MUST LOVE HIM. YOU WILL LOVE HIM. STAN JINYOUNG AND MY BABY GYEOMMIE. LOVE GOT7. STAN GOT7.
It felt like I had the weight of the world on my shoulders. Maybe that’s why I was crumbling, everything with Richie, school, Georgie’s death, the added stress after what happened over the summer. It was all catching up with me.
After school I managed to avoid the losers and the bowers gang as I walked to the quarry. It was my favorite place, I always went there when I needed a break from life. I sat on the ground, letting my feet hang over the edge. I pull out a pack of cigarettes, placing one between my lips as I look for a lighter.
I took a long drag, letting it calm myself. I knew it wasn’t something I should be doing but I didn’t care. I picked up the nasty habit rather quick. Luckily I was able to hide it from those around me, knowing I would get lectured about how unhealthy it was and how it would eventually kill me. Richie continued staring at unsuspecting girls, then he would sneak in through my window with flowers or kiss me and whisper sweet nothings to me.
I let out a sigh, I hated the way he made me feel, like I was nothing to him but at the same time something. When I get home, we can do it again and again. Just thinking about it made my heart ache and my eyes tear.
“Y/N?” A voice came from behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder to see Stan walking over.
“Fuck.” I muttered to myself.
“What are you doing here? You smoke?” Stan began interrogating.
“I’m thinking about shit.” I answered, wiping the tears off my face.
Stan sat besides me with a look of concern across his face.
“Please don’t tell anyone about this.” I pleaded holding up the lit cigarette between my fingers.
“Ok.” Stan nodded. “I assume you know they are bad for you so I won’t bother scolding you.”
“Thanks.” I said, taking another drag.
“So what’s wrong?” He asked after a few moments of silence.
“What isn’t wrong?” I said, looking down at my hands.
“Everyone has been worried about you lately.” He responded. “Especially Richie, he’s been asking if we knew what was going on.”
I sighed at the mention of Richie, sure he was so worried about me. What a load of bullshit. Maybe it will help if I talk about it, I just don’t want him running back to everyone blabbing about it all.
“Promise me this stays between us?” I sighed, putting out the cigarette.
“Richie has been staying with me for the past 2 weeks. He came to my house with a black eye, I took him in and we talked. Long story short, h-he kissed me and told me he loved me.” I looked at the ground. “We aren’t together or anything, but I watch him gawk at other girls all day and when he comes to my house at night he acts like we’re a couple and he wasn’t just drooling over anything that walks.”
Stan listened intently as I just let it out. I wipe the tears again with the shaky hand.
“This going back and forth bullshit, it feels like I’m getting my heart broken everyday, over and over again. I can’t take it much longer.”
“Why don’t you talk to him about it?” Stan suggested.
“I didn’t want to bother him with it, I knew he was having a hard time dealing with what happened.” I answered, careful of what I said.
I knew Stan also had a rough time coping, everyone did really. Stan nodded, understanding.
“I’m not condoning what he’s doing, but I don’t think he’s even realizing he’s hurting you.” He explained. “I think you should just talk to him.”
Stan tried his best to help, I’ll admit I do feel a little better talking about it with someone but I was still stuck in this situation. I thanked him for his help before getting up to walk home. He offered to walk me home but I just needed to be alone.
Richie stayed the night again but I when I woke up he was gone. I got ready for school like always. He probably just went home to get more clothes or something.
The school day was uneventful, I sat at lunch with everyone else. Stan must’ve stayed true to his promise as nobody interrogated me about smoking or Richie. Richie was staring like usual, I let out a sigh of frustration.
“Richie, close your mouth. You’re gunna catch flies.” Stan commented.
I couldn’t help but smirk. Richie closed his mouth, not before flashing his middle finger at Stan. It wasn’t long before his beautiful brown eyes gazed at another girl. I couldn’t just sit here watching this anymore.
“I uh, gotta go grab some books out of my locker. See you guys later.”
Stan shot a glance in my direction before I left. The halls were quiet, I walked to my locker in silence. I just had to make it through one more class, I couldn’t cry yet, not yet.
“Y/N?” Richie asked.
Shit, I mentally calmed myself down as much as I could. I worried about what Stan had told him, I just hoped it was about the cigarettes and not about Richie but knowing Stan, it would be the latter.
“I need to talk to you.” His voice was serious and filled with concern.
based off of a prompt from an anon!! thank you for sending it, and I’m sorry it took so long <3 read under the cut!
It had been a long, gruelling few years for Stan Uris. Some people would call the preteen years a difficult transition, and in his case, they definitely weren’t wrong. When he realised that his constant discomfort with everything about him was because he was transgender, it was like everything in his brain clicked and fell apart, all at once. It was a flood of emotions for an thirteen year old kid to experience, he was mortified to have to tell his parents. When he did, he wrote them a letter when they were sleeping and slipped it under their door before scurrying off to his bedroom, which then, was pink and beige and girly. He kept it dark most days.
It took them a while to respond, especially his father, but when they sat him down and told him that, as long as he was happy, and safe, then they would support him. Stan would never admit to anyone, but he cried for two hours when his father hugged him and asked what his new name should be. They immediately referred him to a gender clinic, and he’d been given hormone blockers by the end of the year. So his family life was happy.
His friends, they were good too. Despite their confusion at first, the losers embraced them with open arms, and they’d put all of their effort into helping Stan feel more comfortable. It was hard at times, and of course, there were days when Stan couldn’t bare to speak because of the sound of his voice, or look in the mirror because he felt his face was too feminine, but they comforted him as best they could. He appreciated every single one of them with all of his heart, and their constant love for him.
Bill, though, he was different. Since Stan was twelve, he’d had this thing for Bill, he hated using the term crush but to be fair, it described his feelings towards the boy perfectly. They spent a lot of time together, Stan and Bill often babysat Georgie when his parents were out. When they were in the house Stan was almost always there. They were best friends, simple as that. That’s how he wanted it to be. But the truth is, Stan couldn’t deny the feelings that spun themselves into sentences that threatened to jump out of his mouth whenever he saw his friend, and he couldn’t deny that he was absolutely terrified of them.
He felt like he was lying, cheating in some kind of game, that Bill only saw him as a friend and Stan was having these feelings. He felt shameful. He’d decided to confide in Richie, Eddie and Beverly at a study group.
“So, Stan the man, what’s up?” Richie has his feet kicked up on Stan’s desk, which is making him itch, so he chooses to stare at the floor. Beverly is sat cross legged on the floor, Eddie leaning his head against the bed next to Stan’s legs.
“I think… I think I like Bill. Well uh, I know I like Bill.” He mumbles, picking at the loose skin on his fingers.
“Oh yeah we all know.” He dead-panned, inspecting his nails, chuckling at Stan’s horrified expression when he looks up. Beverly throws a pencil at him, hitting him in the cheek, he gasps, pouting as Eddie rolls his eyes.
“It’s okay, Stan, Bill is too oblivious to catch on to that stuff. Why’re you telling us now?” Beverly asks, Richie leans forward, then, putting his feet on the floor and resting his elbows on his knees.
“First of all, fuck you Richie, and secondly, I just… Ugh,” Stan groans, falling back on his bed and covering his face with his hands, “I just don’t know what to do about it, guys.” They’re all in silence for a while, Beverly climbs up to comfort him, opening her arms when Stan shuffles closer to her.
“Well, I think you should tell him.” Eddie perks up, whizzing around to kneel facing Stan, his expression still blank when Stan threw leaned up and looked at him like he’d just told him he was going to shave his head.
“You cannot be serious. Beverly, tell him why I can’t do that.”
“I don’t see why you can’t, Stan.” She shrugs, tucking the untamed curls of hair away from her eyes and behind her ears. Stan almost snaps his neck turning around, glaring at Beverly with the same glare he usually saves for Richie. She does nothing but shrug again.
“To be fair, Stan, the worst that can happen is he says no.” Richie is re adjusting the beanie on his head, and leaning up to turn the fan on.
“Yeah, or I could fuck up my friendship with him, Richie. I don’t even know if he’s not straight, he never talks about the people he likes. This is hopeless, I can’t do it.” Richie scoffs at that, earning him a punch to the shin from Eddie.
“Look, even if he doesn’t like you that way, he still cares about you, so it won’t ruin your friendship or whatever else you think is gonna go sideways when you talk to him. You just need to talk to him, cause you look like you’re gonna hurl and it’s making me anxious.” Eddie huffs, the whiny, tired tone pouring through. Stan laughs at that, and Bev leans her head on his shoulder.
“It’ll be okay, Stan. You need to get this off your chest, and telling everybody but him won’t do shit.” He sighs, nods, sighs again and then he’s pulling Beverly down to lie on the mattress, listening to Richie hum along to songs as he zones out.
He’s worried. Petrified, really, that Bill wouldn’t return his feelings, that Bill would never speak to him again, that he’d lose his best friend over a crush, the list continued. But, what he was most scared of was, if Bill did like him, even if he wasn’t straight, that he would still see him as a girl. Stan had soft features, he cursed them every night but they never went away. He knew that, realistically, Bill wasn’t the type of person to do that on purpose, but the fear still lingered, tickling his stomach and curling around his organs until he felt dizzy.
Richie and Eddie left first, walking to Eddie’s house humping hips along the way, Beverly had stayed until Stan’s parents arrived, hugging him at the door.
“What if it all goes wrong, Bev?” He worries again, cracking his knuckles out of habit, wiggling his toes inside of his shoes. Beverly smiles, that all-knowing Beverly Marsh smile, and pinches his cheek.
“You’ll be okay, try to get some sleep, yeah?. See you tomorrow.” She leans over, pecks him on the cheek and with that she’s gone, bolting out of sight until there’s no evidence that she’d even been at his house in the first place.
That Monday, Stan was sure he’d never felt so nervous in his life, anxieties and fears spinning around his brain in a never ending cycle, it was hard for him to concentrate in classes until lunch. He’d been avoiding Bill all day, which wasn’t too hard because they only saw each other in between classes until the 45 minute break. He made his way to the table they’d claimed, Beverly sat next to him, on his left, and Bill to his right, the rest of the group scattered around in the best circle they could make. He knew he had to do it, but if he just avoided the subject for 30 more minutes, joked around with his friends and went back to class, it would be over, and he wouldn’t have to look at Bill’s face when he confessed.
“Stan. You remember the plan, right?” Beverly nudges him, he nods in response and she sighs, holding his hand underneath the table.
“Now or never, come on.”
“I choose never. I can’t do it!” He whisper yells, leaning towards her just in case Bill would hear, and she rolls her eyes, letting go of his hand to pat him on the back, before pushing him away from her and into Bill, shooting him a thumbs up when he frowns at her.
“Eager, Stan, yuh-you okay?” Bill looks up from his notebook and at Stan, frowning when he realises how nervous he looked.
“Can we talk? I mean, before we go back to class.” Bill nods, stuffing his notebook back into his bag, sliding away from the table and following Stan to the nearby oak tree. He expects him to say something, but he just looks at the floor and kicks leaves with his shoes.
“Stan, are you g-gonna talk to m-me, or what? You look s-sick.” He asks, sitting down and patting the spot next to him, when Stan shakes his head, he takes his hand and tugs.
“You’ll f-eel better, if you p-pass out I’ll cry.” Stan sighs, leaning against the tree and tucking his knees up to his chest, trying not to look Bill in the face.
“How do you, uhm,” he clears his throat, “I don’t know how to say this.”
“You’re f-freaking me out, dude.” And Bill, being Bill, leans over, placing a comforting hand on Stan’s knee. It makes him feel somewhat better, for a little bit, it turns the nerves in his stomach into butterflies, until they morph into the same sick feeling he felt before.
“I like you.” He blurts out, tapping the side of his ankle rapidly, his eyes darting around anywhere they can look except for at Bill. His hand doesn’t leave his knee, but Bill can’t seem to process what’s just been said.
“Oh. Stan… I’m sorry-” Stan doesn’t give him time to let the words ‘I don’t feel the same’ come out of his mouth, because he’s stood up and walking away in the blink of an eye, telling Bill that he’ll see him tomorrow, that it’s fine.
He walks back to the bench, picks up his bag and walks away without acknowledging any of them, digging his nails into the palm of his hand when Richie calls after him. He goes to class early, sits in his seat and stares at the blackboard, not letting his eyes leave that position even when Mike and Ben ask him if he’s okay, he simply nods, and listens until they leave. When the bell rings, he’s on his bike and pedalling home before any of them can see him run off. He kicks his shoes off, hides under his blankets and he definitely doesn’t cry.
He fell asleep eventually, opening his puffy eyes to a knock at his bedroom door. He hopes that if he stays quiet, whoever it is will go away. It’s usually his mother, and she leaves after a while.
“Stan, I kn-now you’re awake.” Bill’s voice rings through the door, and Stan spends a while seriously debating whether or not to climb out of his window and sneak away. Bill knocks again, pulling him out of his thoughts, off of the bed and leaving his hand on the door handle. He’s scared. Did Bill come here to tell him that they should be friends? He sighs, drives the thoughts to the back of his mind and opens the door.
Bill is wet from the rain, the water dripping off of his hair onto the carpet around him, the light from the hallway bouncing off of his skin, clothes clinging to his frame. Stan moves out of the way, grabbing a towel from the wardrobe and some spare clothes.
“Bathroom. If you get my bed wet I won’t talk to you.” He tries to make it sound like a joke, but the shakiness in his voice doesn’t cover up well. Bill doesn’t say anything, just nods and finds his way to the bathroom. By the time Stan has re made his bed, sitting by his pillows, Bill is closing the door and coming to sit next to him. They don’t talk for a while, really because neither of them know quite what to say, afraid that their words will fall out of their mouths too jumbled up.
“Why are you here, Bill?” Stan asks, his voice barely above a whisper, still raspy and tired. The light coming from the street-lamps and the moon outside are pouring into the room, he’s watching the shadows of the bird mobile that’s above his bed.
“We need t-to talk.” Bill turns, shifting his leg up onto the mattress so he can look at Stan. The lights from outside are dancing on the back of his neck and his hair, he’s biting at his lip, and Bill has never seen him like this before, looking so soft and fragile. He’d always been strong, covering up his fears with attitude and his words. This was a completely different Stan.
“We don’t need to talk.”
“You didn’t e-even let me finish buh-before, Stan, why won’t yuh-you listen to m-me?”
“Because! You said enough before, Bill, I don’t need to hear a speech about how this is one sided and how we should be friends, I got all of that before.”
“All I did was ap-pologise!”
“That’s all you had to do.” He huffs, shuffling back under the blankets and turning away from him.
“I’m not gonna g-go anywhere just cause you aren’t looking at me.” His words fall on deaf ears, Stan is trying to force away the tears forming in his eyes with sheer will power. He feels a pressure next to him, and then a hand on his shoulder.
“I said I’m sorry, cause yuh-you were so nervous to talk t-to me. Seeing you so nervous f-freaked me out.” Stan doesn’t say anything, and so Bill continues, rubbing circles into Stan’s shoulder like he always does.
“Why wuh-were you so scared? Can you just talk t-to me?” He sounds desperate, this boy, who Stan adores so much, who’s reaction he was so scared to see, sounds like he’s going to cry. He turns around, resting his head on the pillow and setting his hand on Bill’s leg.
“I was just nervous. I can handle knowing you don’t like me back, I think, but I was scared I’d ruin everything, and… and you’d never want to talk to me again. And then I was scared, because I realised that you never told me if you were gay and if you did like me it would be because you still see me and a girl and I was so scared-”
“Whoa, wait, what? Stan?” He frowns, moving off of the bed and kneeling so he can look at his face, “you think I’d d-do that to you?” Stan wails, burying his face into the pillow.
“No, Bill. I just- I don’t know, I’m feminine and it was just something in my head because some people do that and I was just anxious.” Bill can just about make out what Stan is saying, taking his hand as he sniffles and muffles an apology through the fabric.
“I’d never do that, yuh-you know I see you as Stan, and only Stan. And I’m p-pansexual, I think. And I like you, s-so you had nothing to wuh-worry about anyway.” He smiles, only smiling wider when Stan turns to him, puffy eyes and runny nose, holding his hand tighter.
“Really?” Bill nods, shuffling into the bed with Stan, bringing his arms around him as always, when he looks at his wide eyes he feels like his heart is going to fall through his chest and into his stomach.
“I’m sorry I assumed you were gonna be an asshole.” Bill is twisting the curls in Stan’s hair, and Stan is listening to the steady beat of his heart through the sweater he’s wearing.
“Don’t be, it’s a ruh-reasonable fear, just hope you g-get that I like you cuh-cause you’re Stan, and I don’t wanna h-hurt you.” Stan hums, kisses Bill’s knuckle, and closes his eyes.
They talk throughout the night, whispering confessions and sharing giggles, and Stan feels safe, the warm feeling in his stomach spreading through his body when Bill kisses his forehead before they fall asleep in the early hours of the morning.
When they get to school together, too nervous to hold hands at school, but standing closer, sporting undeniable blushes, Beverly cannot contain her smile, she hugs them both, praising Stan for being brave. Richie shouts something or another about how now that Stan has confessed, Mike owes him 20 dollars, and Ben owes him 10. Eddie bounces around on the balls of his feet all day, excited to see his best friends so happy. All in all, nothing changed very much, save for the complaining from Richie when they kiss at the table, or when Stan shows up to school wearing Bill’s clothes.