#poor stan

[stoicjewel]

“Don’t stop dancing.”

[coniferouspines]

An Almost Reverse Portal AU

A terrified cry had Ford scrambling to his bedroom, bashing his shoulder into the doorframe in his hurry to get to his brother.

Stan was screaming, thrashing amongst the blankets, face creased with fear and tears.

“Stanley!” Ford called, rushing to his side and shaking him. “Stanley, wake up! You’re dreaming, wake up.”

Stan startled awake with a gasp, reflexively flinching away from Ford as he sought to gather his wits. Ford watched the fog of sleepy confusion leave his eyes, replaced by devastation when Stan remembered his current circumstances. The tears only increased as his brother accept that his nightmare hadn’t just been a nightmare.

Ford knew exactly what Stan had been dreaming about. It was the same one almost every night. The incident had plagued Stan’s sleep since it happened, causing the silence of every night to be filled with Stan’s screams.

Stan’s breaths came in short, sharp gasps as he dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. His whole body trembled, panic creeping up on him. Ford was used to this too; the aftermath of the nightmares was always rocky. He reached out for his brother, carefully untangling him from the blankets and bringing Stan into his arms.

Ford had learned that Stan calmed down faster with movement, so he stood with Stan held to his chest and began to pace. It wasn’t so difficult anymore, to hold Stan like this. Stan had lost weight after the incident, and Ford had had weeks of practice lifting and carrying Stan around.

It was the least he could do, since it was his fault Stan was in this situation.

The incident still plagued Ford too.

“Some brother you turned out to be. You care more about your dumb mysteries than your family.”

Ford tensed as Stan marched towards him with a fierce scowl.

“Well, then you can have ‘em!”

Stan tried to shove the journal into Ford’s chest, but Ford, having been expecting another punch, dodged.

The journal thudded to the floor as Stan tripped forward, and began to float into the air.

“Whoa, whoa, hey. What’s going on?” Stan cried out in surprise.

Ford felt frozen in alarm as he watched his brother begin to get sucked in by the portal’s pull.

Stan’s surprise melted into outright terror as he flailed in the air. “Stanford!” he called, fear ringing in his voice. “Ford, help me!”

Ford winced as the memory played in his mind’s eye like it had just happened. He was ashamed of how long it had taken him to do something. He’d just stood there like an idiot until it was almost too late. If only he’d moved to help sooner, maybe Stan would still have—

“Ford, help! Do something! Please!”

Ford shook free of the horrified stupor that had overtaken him. Stan had managed to grab onto a stray cable and was holding on for dear life, but his grip was slowly slipping as he got steadily pulled backwards.

The emergency shutoff. Ford needed to activate the emergency shutoff.

He ran for it, but fell to the ground as he stumbled over something. Ford pushed himself up on shaking arms, glaring at the journal he’d just tripped over. He kicked the thing out of the way carelessly, racing for the portal’s emergency controls.

“FORD!” Stan screamed. “HELP ME!”

Ford had never heard his brother sound so afraid in his life. The desperation and panic in his tone sent shivers up Ford’s spine. He looked back and felt his stomach drop.

Stan was already entering the portal, the glowing blue having swallowed up his feet even as he tried to pull himself free with the cable.

Ford had to hurry! Stan wasn’t going to be able to hold on much longer!

He scrambled for the controls, sweaty, trembling hands reaching for the emergency shutoff. But just as he slammed down on it, Stan lost his grip.

Ford could only watch in abject horror as Stan got sucked in up to his thighs by the portal’s momentum, even as the machine shut off, the portal’s entrance snapping closed.

Right on Stan’s legs.

Ford continued to pace, swaying Stan gently as his brother hyperventilated in his arms, head resting on Ford’s shoulder as he sobbed. Ford tried his best to soothe him, murmuring reassurances into his long, tangled hair. But guilt ate away at him; the same guilt he’d been feeling since that day.

It was all his fault.

In the aftermath, the room was dead silent. Ford slumped against the controls, his tired, lagging brain trying to catch up to everything that had just happened. At least they were safe, he told himself. At least Bill hadn’t managed to get through.

Then a horrendous, anguished scream broke the silence, making all the hair on Ford’s arms rise. The sound was like that of a wounded animal, but there wasn’t—

Stanley!

Ford raced to where Stan was still lying where he’d fallen, and when his eyes registered the sight before him he gagged.

Stan’s legs were gone. What little was left of them was covered in mottled, gruesome burns. The heat and energy from the portal had acted like a hot iron, cauterizing the wounds left behind. Which, Ford thought to himself hysterically, meant at least Stan wasn’t going to bleed out.

But Stan’s cries of agony rang in his ears. His brother writhed in pain on the floor, unable to get up. And Ford realized there was no way he could treat this on his own.

“Hospital!” he yelled in panic. “Oh, Moses, we need to get you to a hospital!”

Ford sighed as Stan’s sobbing began to calm down, his brother coming back to himself. Ford’s arms were a little tired by this point, but he didn’t complain. Not when Stan so obviously needed the comfort, clinging to Ford like a lifeline and sniffling into his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Stan mumbled, ashamed.

“It’s okay,” Ford whispered to him. “It’s not your fault. It’s alright.”

Nothing was alright, but it could have been worse. Ford clutched his brother to him, thankful that he at least still had a brother to hold. Stan could have easily been gone, disappeared into the portal forever. Ford could have lost him entirely.

At least now he had the chance to make up for what he’d done. He’d take care of Stan for the rest of their lives if need be. He’d never turn him away again. What if Stan got hurt worse by something outside? Ford wouldn’t allow that. Stan had been hurt enough.

He’d keep Stan safe from now on.

[alexbx128]

Ford Is Actually Tweaking Rn- LMAO

@illusioncanthurtme--art

@need-him-pregnant-poll

[whumble-beeee]

You Look So Much Prettier This Way

Poor Stan. What will you do to get out of this predicament, I wonder?

What will you do when fighting back isn't even an option?

Stan sat stunned. He couldn't speak. He couldn't scream for help, he couldn't complain, he couldn't quip, he couldn't stand, he couldn't struggle, hell, he could barely even move.

He wanted to cry.

His face hurt from where they punched him. His neck hurt from where they grabbed him. His entire body hurt from where they'd manhandled him to the ground and pinned him down and tied him up, choking him, punching him if he dared flinch, or god forbid he struggled against their grasp.

And after all that excessive tying, the rope that scratched against his tender skin and pressed in on his ribcage in a suffocating embrace.

They'd gotten out the duct tape. His heart stuttered, eyes wide. He started to scream, he kicked out at them.

Big mistake. As soon as they finished they mortifying ordeal of wrapping his mouth in layer after layer of duct tape, they slammed him down onto his back and hoisted his legs into the air, bent them into the most odd position, and by the time Stan realized that had still more rope, they were already wrapping it around his ankles and his thighs.

Over and over.

He tried to scream. They kicked him. He screamed some more into the duct tape gag. More blows. Tears. It didn't stop. He couldn't even curl in on himself to protect his soft underbelly.

Then they plopped him on the floor.

Surrounded him.

Appraised him, hungry eyes searching over his body.

Stan couldn't hold back the tears anymore.

The one he thought to be the leader stepped foreward.

Knelt in front of him, cupped Stan's cheek in their hand.

Stan could barely even find the strength to jerk away, and when he did, they just grabbed his collar and yanked him back, made him stare right into their ruthless shark-like eyes. And there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop them.

"You look so much prettier this way," they lulled. "I wonder if your friends will agree when they come to find you."

* * * * * * * *

Whumptober 2024 | Day 7 | The Bee's Whumptober Masterlist

Stan is an OC that belongs to The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping!

Whumptober Taglist: @whumperofworlds | @whumptober-archive | @regular-whump-sfx

(If you wanna be added or subtracted from the taglist, don't be afraid to ask!)

[sourour-rl]

What if Stanley was too late?

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

Ford is Bill's 'chosen one', and stan is the axlotl's chosen one. This is not a good thing for Stan, as it makes him the axlotls failsafe-a universe run by a dark!ford is more likely to remain in existance than one run by bill. it doesnt actually improve or effect his life in any positive way.

oof. Poor Stan and his charming way's, making him gods special little guy to get wrecked. Stan being there does nothing to improve his own life, all it means is that if Bill gets into the dimension Stan will somehow, even at great cost to himself, kick Bill back out. Sometimes that means Bill gets got, but Ford is still there to make Stan's life miserable with his smothering or control. Sometimes he gets a happy ending, sometimes Stan loses and loses and doesn't win anything other than being alive and defeating Bill.

[papayabananas]

demon pattern appears up to his neck

[hollersposts]