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@sirmarshwalker-blog
ST x IT Zombie Roleplay group!!
The vast majority of characters are still open such as
⢠Beverly Marsh ⢠Stanley Uris ⢠Ben Hanscom ⢠Mike Hanlon ⢠Mike Wheeler ⢠Will Byers ⢠Dustin Henderson ⢠Lucas Sinclair ⢠âElevenâ Jane Hopper ⢠Max Mayfield
Refer to this post for our group info and you may apply here !!
Keep reading
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Kyle didnât really smoke when he knew he was going to be near his mom, but he probably already smelled like whatever they had in that punch bowl so it didnât matter as much. Pulling a light and a cigarette out from his pocket, taking a hit and exhaling it through his nose.
He knew he wasnât straight, 7th grade during swim class when David Rodrigues had his shirt off proved that to him a while ago. That wasnât the issue for Kyle, it was the fact that he might have had feelings for Stan that bothered himâŚ.
This was Stan, his super best friend! How could he like him? Of all people! He wasâŚ.Kind, and sweet, and sensitive, funny, thoughtful, he loved animals and was always there for himâŚNot to mention he was so cute and hot andâŚ.
Fuck, was he blushing?Â
Kyle shakes his head back into reality as he looked down, flicking some ash from his cigarette before taking another hit, moving his head into his lap as he let out a groan, this was bad, really bad.
Kyle jumped a bit when he heard Stanâs voice, sitting back up and looking at him for a moment before looking down. Suddenly being near him made his heart thump so loud in his chest he could barely hear his own thoughts, his stomach was doing flips, and yet it felt so good that if he died now heâd have no regrets.
The redhead pinched out the end of his cigarette, putting it back into the box then back into his pocket as the jock spoke. He could hear that Stan was sorry, that he was regretting it. But oddlyâŚ.he wasnât, in fact? He wanted to do it again, maybe one that lasts longer, maybe an hour? Stop it kyle youâre expecting too much.
ââŚ..If you throw up on me, Iâm gonna kick your assâ Kyle said with a pout, he had to kiss him again, once without the circumstances of a game or peer pressure. And that's what he did, turning Stanâs head to face him and gently placing a kiss on his lips with one hand on his cheek and the other on his chest. The jolt of electricity that went through him when he did, it felt good, feeling his lips on his felt good.
After a good 30 seconds, Kyle slowly pulled away in a slight daze, his face was about as red as his hair. It took him a second to snap out of it, looking surprised more at how he was feeling than anything else. Biting his lip, he suddenly got up with a âDamn it!â before starting to walk away.
   âThrow up--? Stan didnât get the chance to finish his question, the redheads lips suddenly finding his own again. He taste of nicotine, but oddly Stan didnât find himself minding that at all. As his eyes flutter shut and his hand raises to hold Kyleâs waist, the lips on his own are suddenly gone.
   Blue eyes snap open just to see his smaller best friend shoot up and storm off. âKyle, hold on!â Stumble to a stand, Stan dashes after his Super Best Friend, catching his wrist as he rushed down the sidewalk. âWait- wait. Shit, dude. What was that about? Why are you running away?â
   He honestly didnât mean to sound as hurt as he did, but it came out sounding that way with his tone of voice. Managing to stop Kyle, Stanâs hand slips down from his wrist to hold his hand instead. âWhy... why did you do it again?â
   Pressing his lips in a line, Stanâs eyes flickered from the sidewalk ground to the pair of green that were Kyleâs. âDid you like it?â    Itâs the dead of night, the two of them are standing alone in the cool temperatures of their neighborhood after ditching a stupid highschool part and man. Popping all these questions out at once; Stan was dying for an answer to any of them, if not all.
Send me a kink and Iâll rate it:
No | Rather Not | I Dunno | I Guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK yes | Oh. God. You Donât Even Know |
|| á´ĄĘá´á´á´á´á´˘á´, sá´ĘĘĘ ÉŞá´ á´ Ęá´á´É´ sĘá´á´Ą á´ĄÉŞá´Ę Ęá´á´ĘĘs, sá´Ęá´á´Ęs Ęá´á´É´ á´ÉŞĘɪɴɢ á´á´ !! á´Ę ĘĘá´á´á´ á´Ąá´á´á´ ÉŞs Ęá´Ęá´ á´Ęá´á´É˘Ę sá´ ÉŞĘĘ É˘á´á´ á´á´ ÉŞá´ sá´á´É´ ! ||
REPOST , DONâT RB. // bold what applies to your muse
active | adaptable | admirable | adventurous | agreeable | alert | appreciative | aspiring | attractive | balanced | benevolent | calm | capable | caring | charismatic | charming | cheerful | clean | compassionate | confident | considerate | cooperative | courageous | creative | cultured | curious | daring | decisive | dedicated | dignified | discreet | dramatic | dutiful | educated | elegant | empathetic | energetic | faithful | farsighted | firm | flexible | forceful | forgiving | friendly | fun-loving | gallant | generous | gentle | genuine | hardworking | healthy | helpful | heroic | honest | honourable | idealistic | Independent | intelligent | kind | loyal | mature | modest | observant | optimistic | organised | passionate | patient | peaceful | playful | popular | precise | protective | realistic | reliable | respectful | responsible | romantic | sane | scrupulous | selfless | self-critical | self-reliant | self-sufficient | sensitive | serious | skillful | sophisticated | spontaneous | stoic | strong | suave | subtle | sweet | sympathetic | tolerant | trusting | understanding | vivacious | warm | wise | witty | youthful
tagged by: @youbxstards !!
tagged: anyone who wants to do this !
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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                                đś đť đ´ đ đ´ đś đ đ¸ đ  đ đ đ đˇ đ Â
                    đđ đ´đźđđ & đśđťđ´đ đ´đśđđ¸đ đźđđđźđśđ
                     repost  &  tag  away ! Â
                        BOLD all that applies to your muse.                       italicized  -  applicable in some verses
tagged by: no one, pft.
⢠eyes:  blue | green | brown | hazel | gray | gray-blue | other ⢠hair:  blond | sandy | brown | black | auburn | ginger | grey / white | multi-color | other ⢠body type:  skinny | slender | slim | built | curvy | athletic | muscular | chubby | overweight ⢠skin:  pale | light | fair | freckled | tan | olive | medium | dark | discolored ⢠gender:  male | female | trans | cis | agender | demigender | genderfluid | other | doesnât like labels | donât have any definite headcanon either way ⢠sexuality:  heterosexual | homosexual | bisexual | pansexual | asexual | demisexual | other  | doesnât like labels ⢠romantic orientation:  homoromantic | heteroromantic | biromantic | panromantic |aromantic | demiromantic | unsure | doesnât like labels
⢠species:  human | undead | shapeshifter | demon | angel | witch | ghost | incubus / succubus | werewolf | alien | mutant ⢠education: high school | college | university | masterâs degree | PhD | other ⢠iâve been: in love | hurt | ill | mentally abused | bullied | physically abused | tortured | redacted | brainwashed | shot
⢠positive traits: affectionate | adventurous | athletic | brave | careful | charming | confident | creative | cunning | determined | forgiving | generous | honest | humorous | intelligent | loyal | modest | patient | selfless | polite | down-to-earth | diligent | romantic | moral | fun-loving | attractive | charismatic | calm ⢠negative traits: aggressive | bossy | cynical | envious | shy | fearful | greedy | gullible | jealous | impatient | impulsive | cocky | reckless | insecure | irresponsible | mistrustful | paranoid | possessive | sarcastic | self-conscious | selfish | swears | unstable | clumsy | rebellious | emotional | vengeful | anxious | self-sabotaging | moody | peevish | angry | pessimistic | slacker | thin skinned | overly dramatic | argumentative
⢠living situation:  lives alone | lives with parent(s)/ guardian | lives with significant other | lives with a friend | drifter | homeless | lives with children | other ⢠parents/guardian:  mother | father | adoptive | foster | grandmother | grandfather | ⢠sibling(s):  sister(s) | brother (s) | none | other ⢠relationship:  single | crushing | dating | engaged | married | separated | itâs complicated | divorced
⢠i have a(n):  learning disorder | personality disorder | mental disorder | anxiety disorder | sleep disorder | eating disorder | behavioral disorder | mood disorder | substance-related disorder | PTSD | mental disability | physical disability
⢠things iâve done before:  had alcohol | smoked | stolen | done drugs | self-harmed | starved | had sex | had a threesome | had a one-night stand | gotten into a fist fight | gone to hospital | gone to jail | used a fake ID | played hooky | gone to a rave | killed someone | had someone try to kill them
youbxtards:
He hated these parties, he didnât wanna be here, the only reason he went was because Stan asked him to. When they got there he stayed in one of the corners and read to himself, the blaring music making it hard though. He used to like these parties when he was a kid, but he wasnât a kid anymore, and he tended to be less social then back then. No one really liked him anyway, so why should he hang around them? Heâd managed to drop his book when he was suddenly pushed into a closet, yelping when he was tugged then pushed. In the haste Kyle saw who was being pushed inside with him; Stan. That made it better at least, letting out a soft growl as he stared at the door. âThis is stupid, who even still plays this game?â He muttered softly as he crossed his arms across his chest like a grumpy child.
The redhead looked up when he felt Stanâs hands touch his shoulders, looking up only to see heâd moved closer. âW-Wait, dude, we donât have to play this game, we can just say we did. We donât have to-â His words were cut short when the jock pressed his lips to his, catching his breath in his throat as they kissed.
How long had it been since heâd kissed anyone? It been a while, and for good reason. He didnât trust anyone, not like that, not after everything heâd been through. The idea of having that with StanâŚ.it scared him a little, but at the same timeâŚ.his heart was beating so fast and his head was dizzy. When Stan pulled away, he took a deep breath and let air back into his lungs. Was he blushing? He felt like he was, looking like a deer in headlights. He couldnât think, could just barely breathe, he needed air. But when he reached for the door, he was kissed once more, this time closing his eyes andâŚkissing back? This time when Stan pulled away, he felt even dizzier than before, like he was in a daze. Kyle could barely even feel Stanâs hand as he walked them out. He could hear someone, but not what they said. Even as they got closer and tried to snap him out of his thought. Blinking a bit, he shook his head back into reality, holding onto his head as he looked up and smiled.
âI-I umâŚ.I need some air, e-excuse me-â He said, letting Stanâs hand go and making his way through the dancing teens to get out of the house and into the yard. Even outside the music was blaring and loud, sitting himself on the curb beside someoneâs car as he took deep breathes.
-
   The second Stan feels Kyleâs hand escape from his own, he feels an anxious flip in his stomach. âKyle, wait--â The red head didnât listen to his call, quickly storming off with a red face. âDammnit.â Stan curses under his breath, feeling the eyes of everyone here at the party watching him, watching Kyle leave, all wondering the same questions.
   Had he fucked up by actually going through with this stupid game? After the commotion, the other teens attending the high school party go back to their own things, couples kissing in the corners, games of spin the bottle and seven minutes in heaven still going on. Stan hadnât gone to rejoin any of those games; rather he decided to lean back against a wall, picking up a red cup and having a drink. So many thoughts and rambles about how he pulled a stupid move on Kyle quickly runs through his mind at light speed.
   Itâs only once Stan finishes his drink of liquid courage, five minutes pass and he decides he needs to talk to Kyle after what he just did. The jock pushes past dancing classmates and rushes out the door, only to spot the tuff of red hair sitting on the sidewalks curb underneath a streetlight. With an inhale of deep breath, Stanâs hands find his pockets and he walks over to his best friend, having a seat beside him. âHey, dude.â The raven is unsure of what to expect; will Kyle lash out and be angry? Confused? Sad?
   âIâm... I shouldnât have. Done that, back in the closet. Youâre totally right, it was just a stupid game. I donât know what I was even thinking.â Annoyed with his own antics, Stanâs fingers pinch the bridge of his nose. He can barely look to the pair of green eyes beside him.
My muse is completely drunk and incoherent/Your muse has blackmail over mine.
âMamma mia, here we go again! My, my, just how much I miss you⌠Ay dude! Watch where the fuck youâre going!â Ericâs singing was abruptly ended when someone bumped into him and almost made him spill his Martini all over himself.
Well, singing was a gentle way to say that he was bellowing the tunes as he tried to match any tiny silence with a sip from his drink. At 3am and after his fourth glass of whatever white alcoholic drink they served the cheapest that day Ericâs vocal chords were begging for him to shut up and go to sleep.Â
But this had been his payday and Eric had his perfect ritual of finding some crappy karaoke bar with cheap drinks and a good selection of music and just spend the night hogging the mike for himself while singing to everything from latest pop jams to 80s classics. And it had been just another perfect payday night if this idiot hadnât interrupted him in his best song of that evening.
âHey bro⌠Donât be mad dude. Sorry forcutting up your jiveâ Eric almost flinched when a hippie looking surfer guy clapped his shoulder in what was probably the worse apology ever âI was just trying to not step over this other dude you know?â The blond, or fake blond guy pointed to what Eric could only make out as a black blob of something laying on the floor next to a table.
The large brunet rolled his eyes and shook his shoulder from the surferâs hand âYeah whatever. Iâm going home anywaysâ The other guy just gave him a completely stoned smile and walked away. Eric put the mic down and finished his drink, going to the bar to pay up his tab and grab his coat, already thinking about the good night of sleep that was awaiting him since it was Friday already.
On his way to the door though, he almost stepped on the guy that was lying on the floor. At least Eric supposed it was a guy. He stopped and looked down âFucking idiots who canât hold their boozeâ Eric was about to leave when something caught his eye, something yellow that was attached to the guyâs wrist. The chubby man looked closer and could distinguish the familiar kind of shitty bracelet that one of his friends always wore since they were little kids.
Crouching and hoping not to see what he thought he would find Eric moved the guy on the floor by his shoulder and cursed under his breath âFucking hell⌠What the fuck is this? Stan?â The brunet turned around who he recognized as one of his closest friends and slapped his face gently but firmly enough to wake the other up âStan! What the hell are you doing here?â
   Sleeping was the most peaceful form you could ever find Stan in. Itâs where he could get away from the stresses of the world, his problems and other people. Itâs not wonder Eric felt like he enjoyed his presence just like or even especially like this. It unfortunately does have to come to an end eventually, with the said sleeping boy waking up.Â
   When Stan pushes up from the bed and peeks out the window as Eric speaks, he turns back to him, a dark brow raised. âYou make it sound like I have a choice in the matter.â Stan ruffles his unruly black hair and it all magically falls back into place; he just had the kind of hair you could do that with. âYouâre the boss of me, make me.â Stan almost felt stupid for telling Eric to be more strict with him, but after his nap and now being in the right state of mind, maybe this wouldnât be too bad of a thing? A funny thought, considering how Stan has always been the âglass half emptyâ type.
   But with Cartman leading him around like this... it gave the raven an excuse to hangout with him more. Over the years, he hated how the two had almost drifted apart, primarily only ever getting to see each other when they happened to run into the other in public or when their group of friends decided to hang out. It was never just him and Eric. Hell, it rarely ever got to be, and it was something Stan always... rather disliked.
   His one on one time with Eric was always fun. Stan felt like he could always let more loose around the big brunet, everything when he was with Eric became less of âletâs have fun and be moralâ and a lot more âletâs do wild, crazy shit, and as long as we donât get caught, Iâll do anything with youâ. Stan can vividly recall that day in the speed boat years ago as children with Eric, they had gotten in trouble and thatâs the only reason why Stan regretted that day. But by no means did it mean he didnât like spending that alone time with the husky man.Â
   âLetâs go.â Stan wanted to stay with him, it was almost a complete 180 spin from his attitude this morning. Ready to go, almost eager, Stan heads to Ericâs apartment door, waiting for the other man there.
My muse is completely drunk and incoherent/Your muse has blackmail over mine.
âMamma mia, here we go again! My, my, just how much I miss you⌠Ay dude! Watch where the fuck youâre going!â Ericâs singing was abruptly ended when someone bumped into him and almost made him spill his Martini all over himself.
Well, singing was a gentle way to say that he was bellowing the tunes as he tried to match any tiny silence with a sip from his drink. At 3am and after his fourth glass of whatever white alcoholic drink they served the cheapest that day Ericâs vocal chords were begging for him to shut up and go to sleep.Â
But this had been his payday and Eric had his perfect ritual of finding some crappy karaoke bar with cheap drinks and a good selection of music and just spend the night hogging the mike for himself while singing to everything from latest pop jams to 80s classics. And it had been just another perfect payday night if this idiot hadnât interrupted him in his best song of that evening.
âHey bro⌠Donât be mad dude. Sorry forcutting up your jiveâ Eric almost flinched when a hippie looking surfer guy clapped his shoulder in what was probably the worse apology ever âI was just trying to not step over this other dude you know?â The blond, or fake blond guy pointed to what Eric could only make out as a black blob of something laying on the floor next to a table.
The large brunet rolled his eyes and shook his shoulder from the surferâs hand âYeah whatever. Iâm going home anywaysâ The other guy just gave him a completely stoned smile and walked away. Eric put the mic down and finished his drink, going to the bar to pay up his tab and grab his coat, already thinking about the good night of sleep that was awaiting him since it was Friday already.
On his way to the door though, he almost stepped on the guy that was lying on the floor. At least Eric supposed it was a guy. He stopped and looked down âFucking idiots who canât hold their boozeâ Eric was about to leave when something caught his eye, something yellow that was attached to the guyâs wrist. The chubby man looked closer and could distinguish the familiar kind of shitty bracelet that one of his friends always wore since they were little kids.
Crouching and hoping not to see what he thought he would find Eric moved the guy on the floor by his shoulder and cursed under his breath âFucking hell⌠What the fuck is this? Stan?â The brunet turned around who he recognized as one of his closest friends and slapped his face gently but firmly enough to wake the other up âStan! What the hell are you doing here?â
    Really, Stan had barely noticed how desperate he mustâve sounded when he told Eric heâd give him anything in exchange for his own freedom. Definitely not his intention, but it came off that way for sure. Maybe under his thin layer of pride, he was that desperate? The raven doesnât think about it for too long, in fact he can hard think straight at all. The staticy sounds of the T.V and Ericâs voice slowly cause his to disorientate from the world around him.
    Stanâs attention was barely tuned on Eric as he spoke, slowly drifting in and out of consciousness. He does manage go catch a few words; âdemandâ, âdealâ, and a laugh. Stanâs voice tiredly grumbled in his throat as Eric laughed lowly at him, though he does notice thereâs no sadistic undertone to it. Once the exhaustion finally over takes over the smaller male, he falls into a deep sleep, for what will be a number of hours he truly did need.
âŚ
. .
.
    Hours had past, and the entire time, Stan remained undisturbed, sleeping soundly in Ericâs bed in his quiet apartment. Sounds of sheets ruffle as he rolled over on the mattress, stretching his limbs out as he yawned, a balled fist rubbing the sleep from freshly woken eyes. âCartman?â Blue eyes slowly peek open and the first thing he notices is how much darker the room is. âWhat time is itâŚ?â    Stan pushed off the palms of his hands to sit up, unlike this morning when he woke up, he didnât feel like hungover trash, much more well rested and level headed then when he first did today. With another yawn, he looks to the clock nearest in Ericâs bed room, reading the time as 7:30pm. âChrist. You let me sleep for a whileâŚâ Stan never even realized he was that tried either. A side effect of some depression that he had a habit of repressing.
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Hard.
"God, what if we just fucked one day?" (mysteriouscthulhuspawn)
The glaring lights from the television screen cut through the dim darkness of Stanâs bedroom as his thumbs pushed and rolled at the dark joysticks and buttons of his PlayStation 4 controller. Kenny was always his go to PlayStation 4 friend, since the blond also knew where the true quality of gaming stood! Xbox still is totally lame and sucks in his eyes to this day, and thatâs why the two of them both sat here together enjoying the afternoon and the latest game to come out of the Sony system. Fortunate for them two; their day to play games together would go totally uninterrupted, having the whole Marsh house to themselves today. No crazy sister, crazier dad, or mother to bug them. As Kennyâs voice perks up, blue eyes remained unblinking and zoned in on the television screen he sat across from on his bed. âMhm, yeah, crazyâŚâ Tunes of the video games music and sound effects echoed in his room, bouncing off the walls and absorbing all Stanâs focus before the words of the other boy beside him fully process in his mind. âWait, what?â Classic âgame overâ music of said game rung through the ravens ears as he sharply turns to Kenny beside him, face totally bewildered. âWhy would we do that!?â@mysteriouscthulhuspawn
It was years ago, but for some reason, the events from back then has been flooding Stanâs thoughts. Like when someone recalls a memory they wish to forget, it irks slowly into his mind and refuses to leave. âUh. Yeah- back then.â Of course Kenny did die in the hospital that day, but no one remembers that. Stan doesnât remember that and for years its scratched the back of his head. Stanâs eyes glue themselves to the surface of the kitchen table, fingers drumming at its wooden surface. âI was too much of a wuss to even step foot into your hospital roomâ we thought you werenât going to make it and that still didnât kick me into going? What if you died, Ken? And I never even got the chance to say goodbye?â
Stanâs eyes clench shut as his hands lace their way into his dark hair, clinging tightly. He felt to guilty for something that happened so long ago.
My muse is completely drunk and incoherent/Your muse has blackmail over mine.
âMamma mia, here we go again! My, my, just how much I miss you⌠Ay dude! Watch where the fuck youâre going!â Ericâs singing was abruptly ended when someone bumped into him and almost made him spill his Martini all over himself.
Well, singing was a gentle way to say that he was bellowing the tunes as he tried to match any tiny silence with a sip from his drink. At 3am and after his fourth glass of whatever white alcoholic drink they served the cheapest that day Ericâs vocal chords were begging for him to shut up and go to sleep.Â
But this had been his payday and Eric had his perfect ritual of finding some crappy karaoke bar with cheap drinks and a good selection of music and just spend the night hogging the mike for himself while singing to everything from latest pop jams to 80s classics. And it had been just another perfect payday night if this idiot hadnât interrupted him in his best song of that evening.
âHey bro⌠Donât be mad dude. Sorry forcutting up your jiveâ Eric almost flinched when a hippie looking surfer guy clapped his shoulder in what was probably the worse apology ever âI was just trying to not step over this other dude you know?â The blond, or fake blond guy pointed to what Eric could only make out as a black blob of something laying on the floor next to a table.
The large brunet rolled his eyes and shook his shoulder from the surferâs hand âYeah whatever. Iâm going home anywaysâ The other guy just gave him a completely stoned smile and walked away. Eric put the mic down and finished his drink, going to the bar to pay up his tab and grab his coat, already thinking about the good night of sleep that was awaiting him since it was Friday already.
On his way to the door though, he almost stepped on the guy that was lying on the floor. At least Eric supposed it was a guy. He stopped and looked down âFucking idiots who canât hold their boozeâ Eric was about to leave when something caught his eye, something yellow that was attached to the guyâs wrist. The chubby man looked closer and could distinguish the familiar kind of shitty bracelet that one of his friends always wore since they were little kids.
Crouching and hoping not to see what he thought he would find Eric moved the guy on the floor by his shoulder and cursed under his breath âFucking hell⌠What the fuck is this? Stan?â The brunet turned around who he recognized as one of his closest friends and slapped his face gently but firmly enough to wake the other up âStan! What the hell are you doing here?â
    Eric and Stan stood in the same boat with what they both didnât want for the ravens life. Neither of them wanted Stan to turn out to be like one of the many drunken idiots in South Park. In this moment, Stan didnât know Ericâs true intentions were for his own good and wishing to help him. But as more often then not, Eric is going about it in his own weird and unreadable and borderline sociopathic way. All Stan viewed this as right now was Cartman finally getting his chance to strap a tight collar around Stanâs neck.
   But, maybe heâll see later. Once Stan was back to where he stood by the huge bed earlier and Eric had turned down his request, toned shoulders sag in disappointment. âThis is such bullshitâŚâ The message was abundantly clear now, practically etched into his mind. Thereâs no getting out of this, lightening the load or begging for mercy.
   Blue eyes watch the large hand pat on the mattress, instructing him to get the rest he truly needed. With an exhale, Stan crawls up onto the bed and joins Eric. The mattress dips in when his weight is placed on its plushed surface, springs creaking lightly as he laid his head on a pillows. His eyelids suddenly feel heavy the second the head of black hair lands on the soft pillow, nearly falling asleep immediately. But, tired eyes shoot back open to see the grinning face of Eric directed at him. Shifting where he laid, Stan wiggles his arms under the pillow his head was on.
âI dunno. Anything you wanted, I would have gave.â Once he says the intended offer aloud; Stan begins to think maybe it was a good thing that Eric didnât accept that negotiation. He vividly remembers the last night Kyle had it bad by being under Ericâs boot, with the whole ginger cow ordeal. Silently, Stan counts his blessings. He knew Eric didnât hate him that much to the point where heâd publicly humiliate him every chance he got.
âNo take backs though, this is the âdealâ. Even though I didnât even get a word in it.â Stan huffs out, rolling onto his side to face Eric. He doesnât seem to be paying attention to the television. âWould you have wanted anything though?â
{ I think tumblr deleted the ask; sO @youbxstardsâ sent a 7 MINUTES IN HEAVEN MEME request  }                   ROLLED; 3                       SĘĘ/á´á´Ąá´á´Ąá´Ęá´ á´ÉŞss
     After getting shoved into Bebeâs closet, Stan didnât expect him or Kyle to actually fall victim to this ridiculous game. Standing in the tiny compacted room, the fabric of jackets brush against them as they stood together, chests practically squished to the others. âI canât believe weâre actually about to do this...â Stanâs cheeks were red as he dipped down to Kyleâs height, his hands resting on the red heads shoulders.    He could barely see the red face of his best friend right in front of him in the dim light of the room, the light peaking through the cracks of the door only illuminate as much so Stan could see the form of the redheads lips. The sudden bounce in his chest and twist of his guts makes Stan nervous. He hears Kyle shyly muttering about how this was just some stupid game, how they didnât have to take part in any of this, but the raven cut his rant short.
   In the darkness of the room, Stan moves impulsively, leaning down to press his lips to Kyleâs. Their noses bump together and Stan can feel the heat of both of their faces flare up. The pairs lips kiss for a moment before they split apart, the two staring at the other, blinking and unable to find words to speak.
                                           á´É´á´á´á´                                                    á´É´á´á´á´
   Knuckle rap against the wood of the door, signalling their time was almost up. Stanâs eyes never shift away from Kyle as his friend turns to the door. âWait-â A hand reaches up for Kyleâs shoulder, turning him around and kissing him one last time. âHeh. Sorry, dude-â He couldnât help but think the warm hue on Kyleâs face was cute. Even as he stood awkwardly as Stan took his hand and walked them out the door.
7 MINUTES IN HEAVEN MEME
My muse and your muse have been chosen to be locked in a closet for 7 minutes in heaven. Send âSEVEN MINUTESâ for my muse to generate a number 1-25 of what happens between our muses
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