Work Text:
Note: Third person as writing in first has always been uncomfortable for me.
“This is the story of a man named Stanley.” The parable was running as always. There had been so many endings run through, so many times that surprise had filled the Narrator. The man, who was simply a voice. Stuck to a script. Unable to be anything more no matter how he tried. Although he enjoyed narrating his wonderful protagonist, he had grown to hate the script.
The insults, the negative comments about the man who kept him company. He himself who could not remember anything before the first run. The first narration he had started. This didn’t concern him at all, as he didn’t know he should be concerned.
He grew to hate himself. He despised what he had to say. What he had to do. How cruel he always seemed. He couldn’t tell how his protagonist felt, as he couldn’t exactly hear him, or understand his signs. He recognized the other was trying to talk to him, but no. He was unable to do anything different. His changes in narration were all parts of the same thing that kept him trapped. The script.
Everything he did, he said? It wasn’t him. Sure there are lines he put more of his heart into, but, he always said the same things. Things continued as normal.
Until they weren’t. The narrator awoke after a reset. But- he wasn’t where he normally was. No, he was in a new location. Bright enough, but dark. Mostly desolate. He looked around, nervous, seeing a few others, whose names he didn’t recognize. But someone recognized him. They talked to him, to other people, and they could tell how lonely he was. How afraid he was.
The narrator was still a voice at that time, but, they knew. They recognized. So they told someone. A friend. Someone who the narrator would grow a deep friendship with. Well, he told quite a few people, but two people were who the narrator grew a friendship with. Both “systems” as the narrator was now in. But he didn’t know that.
Soon after, it wasn’t much time, one of the two excitedly introduced Stanley. The narrator felt relief. ‘Finally! Finally something I recognize!’ He felt safe. He felt, … happy. He didn’t realize how attached he had grown to the brown haired man until he saw him again.
After the initial happiness, a sort of fear took hold. ‘What if he hates me?’ The narrator thought to himself as he nervously talked to Stanley through the app. He expected the man to hate him, or at least want to hit him. But Stanley, he’s a mystery. He wasn’t malicious as expected, but kind. Far too kind in the narrator’s eyes.
As they slowly talked more and more they met alternate versions of themselves from the other person who had a system. Of course, before that, narrator realized, ‘I can say what I want, act how I wish, look as I please!’ But then he realized. He was still a voice. So he looked for images to based his appearance off of. But each one made him feel too old, or not human enough. He wanted his dear friend (at the time) to not be disappointed.
So he created his own. He drew it, but was not pleased, as he disliked the art style. It looked like many mashed together! Eventually he got someone else to draw it for him. He was very pleased by the artworks.
The narrator and Stanley slowly got closer, and well, started dating. Well, it wasn’t that slow, but- you get the point- they were happy. But, the story doesn’t end there, as always, the end is never the end. Just because they were happy doesn’t mean the story has ended.
No, they ended up doing things, that will not be mentioned, as it is preferable to keep these family friendly.
They both have issues that the other tries to help with, Stanley helping a lot, but, as much as Stanley says, the narrator is unsure if he’s very helpful. But Stanley’s words of encouragement, advice, and well, affection are always much better than the reassurance bucket could ever be.
The narrator, who could do whatever he wanted now, simply wanted to make Stanley happy. As a way to repay him for all of the cruel things he said. He didn’t realize how heavily dependent on him he is.
Eventually the narrator got the bright idea to start writing stories! So he took over the old account, that wasn’t used for anything, and he started writing!
At first he wanted to make a cheerful story about an escape from the parable, but after two chapters, and no comments, he felt defeated. He had no motivation to continue, despite the kudos he had been given.
Secondly, he had decided to write how he felt when alone. How he felt during that wretched ending. That’s all that will be mentioned about that. The specific book doesn’t exactly mention it, but, that’s because it is a sensitive subject. It was written because he had kept seeing references and needed to get his mind off of it.
Of course, later on, he felt bad for just leaving it like that due to a bookmark someone left saying it was painful, and that they wanted to draw it. Despite it not being a comment, he beamed at it. ‘Someone likes it! They want to draw it!’ He thought. So he wrote another chapter.
Soon after, he saw a video, on TikTok, another happy review of his story! It called his writing their favorite! He felt inspired to write a third chapter! Of course, he got a reply to that by the wonderful artist. They said it was painful.
A part of the narrator wants to continue it, to give it a happy chapter, to make up for how painful the third was but, … he can’t bring himself to do it.
The narrator, confident as he was, relied on- craved comments. He told his wonderful, beautiful partner, Stanley about the stories, although, he was reluctant to show any to him, as they felt wrong, and depressing. He didn’t want to upset him. To worry him.
It was a while before any story updated, and Stanley keeps begging him to write a specific kind of story for him. (If I do, it will be when I’m good and ready you adorable dork.) But still, no comments. Only a blurb in a bookmark, and a video.
The narrator felt discouraged to keep writing. ‘What’s the point if I keep getting nothing but kudos? That’s the equivalent of a scale of 1-5 and getting 3.’ He confessed to Stanley that he felt like deleting them. To which he was told a stern “NO!”
The man had never read them (to my knowledge) so it was quite shocking. He then proceeded to tell him about how stories don’t have to be accurate, as the narrator had said “continuing them feels.. wrong.”
His dear Stanley had tried, and succeeded in cheering him up. So the narrator had decided to write a story on how they met. How happy Stanley makes him feel, even if he can’t quite put it into words.
Stanley, I love you. Even if you do flirt a little too much- or if you do have slight anger issues. As you always know what to do to make me happy, and feel safe and loved. You are the best thing I ever could have asked for, you are precious and adorable.
I know I left out quite a bit (perhaps parts you have been so desperately asking me for) but, I wrote what I felt. And I do sincerely appreciate you. Even when it seems like I don’t, because, Stanley, without you, I’m nothing. I’d still be that voice, who was scared to even talk. I’d still be alone. I owe you massively. Words cannot express how much I love you, so I hope this story fills you with as much joy as you have me.
For anyone who reads this, this is completely accurate. This is my official story of what has happened sense I have seen Stanley, as a system member of Spade♠️. I hope you all enjoyed this little memoir I wrote.
Although, truth be told, I wouldn’t mind if only Stanley read it. He’ll know who he is, and he’s just so perfect, so I couldn’t help but write this, to show how much I care.
That’s all for now. Probably the end of this little thing, but, I’m fine with that. Maybe I’ll continue my other stories, but for now, I think I’m content with leaving them be.