HE SSI SILLY OML

HE SSI SILLY OML

artblock begone

ASWWWWWWW

mothley btw. if you even care

Very big boi eeeeeeee.

*runs away screeching*

big chunky red

Yo, this is really cool honestly

The Archon’s Mercy. (Zhongli g/t)

(About 2.6k words, Not really focused on the current time in genshin Zhongli, Soft v*ore, tiny vore, honestly no idea if I missed any other.

??? POV

Everything was burning. I could hear the impacts around my home as my city burned around me. We had angered the gods and this was our punishment to see our lives be burned away and destroyed as a result of our own arrogance. The flames and screams were terrifying. I hid in my home and could only hear the sounds of our robotic guardians outside fighting to protect us. Those sounds of clanking metal and gears turning used to be so comforting, but now they only helped herald our end. As every so often you could hear the tearing of metal as another robot was destroyed in the process of the genocide of my people. There was no chance, it was over and we were soon going to be wiped off the map or punished for everything. And as I lay there in my room, under my bed clutching the plush I had always kept to keep myself comfortable all I could do was quietly sob. Mom and father were gone, I don’t know where they had gone. Maybe they were already dead… their job was to be the leaders of our nation. Even if they wished it would be too late to come back for me. I was trapped. 

From a sight overseeing all of  Khaenri'ah

Normal POV

The great stone spears of the Geo Archon crashed against many of the creations of the people below north of the castle within the city. Meanwhile to the east of the castle, the electricity blared and cut down the same creations in another portion of the city, the Electro Archon’s replacement was leaving nothing in her path. And in the west, the machines were lifted into the air and burned by the flames of the Pyro Archon, the duo seemed effective together, and while the elements raged and flared together in an effort to wipe the civilization off the map, some of the archons may have felt remorse. But, this was a battlefield and remorse was seldom replaced with mercy. The Dendro Archon made sure to prevent the loss of history within Irminsul and the others continued to do the daunting task of exterminating the nation itself. The survivors would be punished with the abyss being their new home, as would anyone else who sided with them. An Archon of history still has to generally record everything, and even if he is far from retirement seeing a still standing small family home still just barely standing was something to remark upon. Khaenri’ah had been quite difficult to approach and the gods were not always allowed to visit the inside of the home, it was time to per se record how they lived. Even if they were still ordinary people. The Geo Archon’s assault did not stop even if he was not watching where his spears were falling, each one eventually finding a new target and leaving nothing but a machine impaled by a massive rock from the heavens. As the Archon opened a door to the small house he walked inside and was greeted with nothing but an eerie silence that was only interrupted by the sounds of flames and rampant destruction outside.

After entering the house there were shards of glass littering the floor, and what seemed like painted pictures of a family. Picking one of the pictures the archon saw two adults with a young child in the picture as well, being held on both their shoulders with smiles on all three. Moving to the kitchen, while the cutlery was certainly uniquely designed, they had the same utensils and items that every other area of the world had. In all honesty, it was indeed a shame that this was the resulting fate of all these people. Continuing to journey through the home the Archon walked into what was most likely the parents' room, having one medium-sized bed, and a few more pictures and such hung up. Instead of a small child, the lad seemed to have made it to their teenage years, while the parents seemed to be in armor that was specifically for the royal guard of this nation. It truly was a shame after all they would most likely face an archon in battle had they not already fallen by now. Leaving the room he heard a noise come from the next room as one of the walls seemed to have collapsed resulting in a scream, rushing through the door and into the next room he was given his answer. One of the machine guardians of the people had sensed his energy and managed to get lucky and avoid the hail of spears getting to the house and destroying what seemed to be the child’s room. The Archon’s eyes glowed as he felt quite angered at the loss of finishing his small pet project, but it was soon remedied as a spear of stone broke through the machine from behind and left its core impaled in the center of the room. Hearing another frightened gasp after finishing the machine off, the archon took note that he was definitely not alone and made his way over to the bed within the room. The bed was now lopsided, stones from the entrance of the machine had fallen upon it and lifted half of it up, and as he looked behind the upheld half, he saw them. A teenage boy, perhaps very close to their adult years was there with one of their legs crushed by the stones that had fallen onto the bed. 

The boy was gritting their teeth, holding their breath, and holding their eyes closed. Surely they could hear everything, and the pain was getting to them. The archon’s eyes had dimmed after removing the robot, but he could spare the teen any lasting pain by taking it out of the miserable state it was in with a small spear perhaps only the length of a pencil through their heart. Quick, painless, and merciful. Yet as the boy finally opened his eyes to check his surroundings seeing the archon before him he reacted and pushed himself against the bed, he didn’t want to die. He was terrified that was for sure, but he had slammed himself with just enough force against the bed to cause it to collapse in on itself, and even with the obviously damaged limb the boy still tried to stand and being forced to fall back to the ground after standing and only letting out a pained gasp was quite disheartening to many watching. Even the stone heart of the archon seemed to be reminded of a moment he had experienced when he saved a lad who had been under the control of a particularly dark ruler. For some reason the lad reminded him of the Adeptus he now had under him, perhaps it was the fact that both had survived under their circumstances when he had found them in such states of despair and disarray and yet both were still fighting. For a moment his eyes dimmed and he approached the boy. As he crouched down in front of them he felt the tired hands slam against his chest as he picked the teen up. His eyes glowed once again, but this time the glow was a much softer yellow.

The boy struggled in the grip of one of the monsters destroying his home, his family, and everything he ever knew would be destroyed today. And yet in front of him, he had one of them in front of him and he couldn’t even phase it, his eyes closed as he tried to push himself away and punch it hoping he could hurt it or distract it from its goal. He knew he was dead, what other fate would be in store for him at this point? As he noticed he wasn’t making contact with the being's chest anymore with his hand or even feeling as if he was in the same spot as he originally was he opened his eyes and was terrified at what he saw. The man’s eyes were closed, not only that they were also bigger. If he wasn’t terrified perhaps he could of complemented the light yellow glow that seemed calming. He wished he avoided what he did next, but he looked down and saw he was in the palm of the monster before him. Surely this didn’t make sense… he wasn’t this size before and the home around him seems the sam-The truth slammed into the boy as he tried to crawl out of the hand, one of his legs was practically useless and the other hurt too much to stand on it properly. Pulling himself as far away as possible he was forced to watch as the portion of the hand he could see was lifted upwards and he slid backward.

The flavor that was given off by the lad was exquisite, fresh but sweet, and after that taste began to wane thin another replaced it being more of a perhaps… cool and perhaps melting away into something more of a middle ground that had a small hint of sour. Taking a single gulp dragged the lad back and placed both of his legs firmly in the Archon’s throat, where they were kept from moving much while he murmured and enjoyed the taste within his mouth now. But, alas he couldn’t enjoy it forever. He’d take one, two, three more deep swallows, the noise verberating around his prisoner as he traveled down his throat. Soon feeling a nice sense of fullness coming from his stomach. Almost maybe half a minute later he felt some frantic squirms and pushed against his stomach walls. He’d simply chuckle calmly and leave the building he had a contract to make, and a job to finish. 

Hours later

As the flames raged on and the punishment of Khaenri’ah had concluded soon nothing but ruins would be left of the civilization. Perhaps some denizens would avoid the final punishment and even remain in the world, however, they were not the Geo Archon’s concern as now he had a city to continue to run. Making his appearance over the skies of Liyue he took a seat on the small plateau that overlooked the entire land he had to rule. Planting his hand on top of his stomach he felt the young lad move slightly within, but it was nowhere near as frantic as earlier. Perhaps the lad had passed out? He pushed down a small bit more curiously before he heard a small yelp as the lad seemed to jolt awake. And finally, after all this time, he heard their voice.

“Le-let me out… please. I want…” 

They didn’t finish their sentence, and in all honesty, the Archon was surprised he could hear them, but he had no reason not to at least acknowledge them. 

“That can be arranged if you are willing to make a contract. However, if not then you will be staying for quite some time and I can’t guarantee your safety either.” 

He waited and waited for a response and leaned back against the stone wall behind the bench he was sitting on. All the while beginning to enjoy the simple pleasure of no hunger, and a feeling of contentment that came with a satisfied feeling of fullness as well. It was all just perfect, easily beginning to make him relax. But, he couldn’t fall asleep yet at least, as he felt a small push and finally received his answer. 

“Wh-what are the terms of the contract?” 

The fear was quite obvious in his voice, but at least he seemed to have a small amount of courage leak through. 

“Your contract will be simple, you're never to mention your homeland to anyone other than me, and from now on your name will no longer be the one of origin from there. You will be called Atlas as if you agree you will in a way be carrying the world given to you for your life on your shoulders. You are not to seek your homeland unless you are given my permission or another Geo Archon’s permission. As such, you will be serving me and my descendants as well from now on. Are those terms acceptable on my half? If you’d like, you may add your own now.”

Once again some silence took over before the Archon received an answer.

“And if I disobey any of the conditions?” “You’ll find yourself back in your current predicament, but won’t be leaving. Or one of my descendants will put you down for breaking the contract.”

“I see… the only conditions I’d like to add are… If I stumble upon remnants of my home that those are excluded from the punishment of seeking my homeland then. And I am generally free to roam as long as it breaks none of the terms of my contract. I think those are fair for my part.” 

The lad pushed out once again. Meanwhile, his captor smiled and considered his terms. 

“I believe those are fair, and that we can make a contract, I’ll sign it now and you will sign once I release you. Just be warned, I may have a snack every so often, and you’ll be required to have a permanent residence in this city regardless of where you go.”

He’d smile lightly before a parchment appeared and he signed his name. Morax, The God of Contracts and Commerce. Before setting the parchment down alongside the ink container and quill tip inside of it as he once again leaned back after having signed his name down and closed his eyes. Resting his head and letting himself fall into a deep sleep.

Meanwhile, the lad would push out wondering when he’d be let out, but he didn’t know anything about his situation other than he made a contract… or per se a deal. And now he was probably at the mercy of an Archon. He had no choice but to keep on going right? But the question that ate at his mind was, why was he spared? He ended up rubbing the walls around him slowly, having nothing better to do when he noticed they glowed slightly. Becoming a very light yellow glow that seemed actually somewhat cool for the lad to witness. If he could see his captor's face he’d notice a slight blush as a result of the small soft rubs he had given the stomach walls. But, he soon laid back and felt the walls squish against him. While he was afraid he also felt as if he was somewhat safe and that he had a chance to make it now. All he had to do was survive, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy some kind of comfort? He felt weird admitting it, but he soon fell into sleep as the walls caressed him a bit.

500 years later

Both the archon and the teen spent the rest of the day asleep before the contract was officially signed, Atlas would later meet a general who went by a similar name to his own. Alatus, and over time they both seemed to respect Morax, or in the present time Zhongli. As Atlas walked inside his home he soon heard a knock on his front door and opened it to reveal the gentleman himself Zhongli. Inviting the man inside he offered him a meal and the two would share some small stories old and new before they seemed to simply enjoy the other’s company. At the end of the day, a chance encounter saved the boy's life and now he has grown up, staying true to his contract he made a living for himself.

RAHHHH SOS ILLYNAND SWEET INLIBE PRED NARRATOR

Voretober Prompt: Drink (TSPUD)

Heyyo! While I was sick with COVID, I took the time to try and feel better by writing. I wanted to do prompts from Voretober, but I won't really have a lot of free time so for now this is all I got. Some of the headcannons used in this are from other TSP vore blogs that I thought fit the Narrator well such as mawsnclaws and s1desn4cks.

Relationships: The Narrator and Reader (can be romantic or platonic. It's left up to you)

(TW: contains soft, safe, nonsexual G/T vore and extreme cuddling)

Word Count: 3,139

“Feeling a wave of disbelief, Stanley decided to go up to his boss's office, hoping he might find an answer there.”

The Narrator spoke the line into the microphone like a crisp record. It was a feat that he was able to keep the same tone, the same emotion, through the fifth playthrough today. It was enough to make anyone go insane.

And apparently, the monotonous repeating of the same story over and over again would bring even the protagonist to his knees.

“Stanley continued to- Oh, no! Oh, no no no no no no no no no no no no, not again! Stanley! What is so intriguing about that closet? Your fascination is absurd! Stanley! Don’t go in that-!” He was cut off by a loud bang. The sound of a door slamming shut signaled that Stanely was no longer listening to the Narrator, opting to take a much needed break from the parable.

“That closet has no significance to the story whatsoever! What does he see in it?!” The Narrator grabbed for his hair, scowling at the microphone like it was the man himself. No doubt Stanley would stay there for a while. Left to his own devices, he would nap in there for at least an hour. He couldn’t hear the Narrator in there, and he couldn’t be forced out of there unless the Narrator physically made him. And that was something he didn’t feel like doing today. 

Beside the Narrator’s desk on a side table, a borrower who somehow got stuck in the parable as well was watching the exchange in apathy, used to the love-hate relationship the two fostered.

“Maybe if you didn’t blow him up every few resets, he wouldn’t go there.” You shuffled through a stack of papers. Since you weren’t Stanley, you had nothing better to do than read the rejected scripts that the author forgot to throw away. And it's not like you could be a stand in protagonist while Stanley rested or a side character considering your size. The Narrator was patient, but not patient enough to wait 10 minutes for you to walk through the first room or climb up steps one by one. There's only so much time a parable could take without losing the interest of its readers after all.

You were much safer with the Narrator where he could watch you.

“But that's his choice too! If he listened to me, then we wouldn’t do the Countdown Ending!” Seeing what you were up to, he gave an exasperated glare. “And could you please not mess with those? I’ve neglected to throw them away, but that doesn’t give you the right to snoop.”

You dragged another piece of paper to the edge, walking across the large printed words to read another line of dialogue about Stanley and the bucket’s mock love story. “I’m not snooping, don't worry.” You waved him off dismissively so he could continue. Even if he was just venting at this point about Stanley not listening to him, you still tried to lend an ear. 

The Narrator’s fear of isolation made you sit through each of his long winded lectures. When he garnered enough courage to admit how he felt about what happened with the Skip Button, it came with the reluctant admittance that you were a support for him. Despite your nature, just the knowledge someone else was there to offer input, to listen, gave him solace- especially in these moments where Stanley was unavailable. So you tried your best to help stave off any anxiety in exchange for him not smiting you for bothering his parable.

(It made you wonder if the Narrator would even let Stanley have these ‘breaks’ if you weren’t around to take his place)

“Back on topic, yes. He knows what happens when he doesn’t listen. Getting blown up by a nuclear device, getting crushed, going mad, falling to his death, the infernal bucket dying! None of that would happen if he just followed the story.”

You nodded in confirmation. You omitted from reminding him that most people don’t like doing the same thing over and over again, even if it means doing a more pernicious path was the only option, but that’s an argument for deaf ears.

Running out of material to read, you go searching for the next activity while the Narrator was distracted. 

The scripts he was working on at his desk was your next target. His typewriter was pushed to the side while he narrated. It gave you time to stand on it and read what he had so far. The jump wasn’t far from his side table to his desk where he pushed them beside each other for your convenience. Readying yourself, you went to take the leap.

You were closer to the edge than you thought, and when one foot lifted, you felt your other slip over the side before you could spring off. You followed suit, your whole body going over the side and missing the other platform.

You were falling.

Time didn’t slow down like the books always said. Rather, it seemed to go faster, fast forwarding to your rapid descent to the ground below. Even the horrid brown carpet wouldn’t cushion the fall enough to keep you safe; you were at the very least breaking bones. You chose to close your eyes and remain ignorant of when impact would happen.

Somewhere above you, aside from the wind rushing in your ears, a voice shouted in shock.

The sensation of your stomach dropping from the fall was abruptly halted by someone catching you. From the warmth radiating off the surface and the way your body sunk slightly into the ground, you registered it as the Narrator's hand. The world moved around you as your own hands moved under you to help you sit up. 

Your near death and the vertigo had your head spinning to where you didn’t register you were being lifted to be eye level with the Narrator, scanning you over again and again to make sure you were ok. Large yellow eyes directed a worried but harsh narrowed glare at you.

“You need to be more careful! I thought I wasn’t going to catch you in time!”

You weren’t listening to him, trying to get your panicked breathing back to an even rhythm. He didn’t care of your plight, continuing to berate you.

“You are just like Stanley, honestly- What if I wasn’t here? Or I didn’t see what happened in time? You could’ve died!” While you understood he was yelling out of panic, it hurt your ears where you were so close to him. You shrunk back from the noise, covering your ears to block out some of the volume. Everything felt overwhelming, taking in all the senses and emotions at the same time, and Stanley still wasn’t out of that closet so the attention was completely directed at you and-

“There is only so much I can reset! Stanley automatically heals sure, but I don’t know what happens to you-” He finally paused his tirade to study you again, seeing you cower from him as much as you could when the only place you could be was his grasp. He felt guilt choke his throat, his fingers instinctively curling around you more as a barrier from moving any further.

He coughed awkwardly, “I apologize for speaking so loudly. That was unbecoming of me.”

The Narrator’s other hand slowly moved to your level, carefully trying to maneuver his finger to stroke your head. He wasn’t used to the range of emotions humans (and human adjacents?) normally dealt with, and he was even worse at comforting others with said emotions. If only Stanley would come back to break the tension…

“But I won’t apologize for what I said. You are quite fragile my dear. My goodness, it isn’t safe anywhere for you. I thought that my office was the perfect place for you so I could keep a watchful eye, but it appears I was wrong.” 

His moment of guilt was gone, replaced by his usual lilt of knowing and slightly condescending, “I was right about you being too adventurous. Sometimes, I have half the mind to put you in a box so I know you can’t get into trouble.” A box sounded awful. Hard, uncomfortable, and terribly boring. You didn’t doubt he would go through it too, remembering how he treats Stanley when he veers off course too much. The Games Ending where he left Stanley alone like a grounded child didn’t leave your mind.

“Of course, I could conjure up a box of some sort…” he hummed in thought, watching you with interest. The one hand that was comforting you left to prop his head on his fist. The one you were on slowly moved away from him, lowering to a point where you assumed he would drop you back on his desk. Any concern from earlier was put away, replaced with a grin.

“But where’s the fun in that?”

His hand turned vertically and before you knew it you were sliding and falling once again. There was no warning or time to catch your breath as you landed in liquid hot enough to miss when you swam upwards to hit air. Moving your arms and legs to keep yourself stably afloat and stationary, you took a moment to take in what the fuck just happened. But it didn’t take long to understand after seeing the porcelain white walls around you and brownish black liquid you floated in. The overly strong citrus smell clogged your nose and made you want to cough out your lungs.

The smug bastard of course dropped you in his tea.

The Narrator looked down at you in amusement, no doubt finding humor in the situation. If you were clueless before, you definitely weren’t now. It was obvious what he planned to do (and you had half the mind to let him since it’s not like you disliked it). The clink of metal against glass alerted you back to the present. His tea spoon tapped the side mockingly, and slowly came to stir around you in lazy circles, making the whirlpool in the middle spin you around with it. The current wasn’t powerful enough to take you under, but it was definitely annoying to paddle against.

The pull abated as he scooped some tea, along with you, up out of the cup and toward him. You instantly felt the loss of heat that the tea supplied, shivering in the cold air. It encouraged you to lay down in the meager supply you had if only to get a little more warm. 

“I recall you saying you don’t appreciate going down with my tea like some pill, so I won’t put you through that again for a while... But I figured I’d let you steep so you at least taste good going down.” At this point, the loss of adrenaline from earlier, the heat, and having to move so much to stay afloat left you torpid. All you could do was weakly glare in annoyance and shake from the rapidly depleting temperature.

He laughed in amusement, not intimidated at all by your meager defiance; if anything, it spurred him on. Bringing you closer, you braced yourself to be swallowed, only to be given an experimental lick like a simple taste tester.

The Narrator floated his spoon back over his drink. You watched him in confusion, seeing the way he frowned slightly and shook his head. “No, you definitely need to sit for another minute or two.”

He unceremoniously dropped you back in, watching as you broke to the surface gasping for air before nonchalantly going back to stirring as he talked offhandedly, “Funny to think I just picked a random tea today because I didn’t expect this to happen. I don’t know what tea I would’ve picked if I did know. A Chamomile? Cinnamon Chai? You can give me your input on what you would prefer later.” Just when you felt like you couldn’t paddle anymore, you were once again scooped up. He maneuvered just so to where there was barely any of the liquid taken along with you. You curled in on yourself, hoping to stave off the chill this time. The Narrator grinned at you in an innocent facade, “But in all honesty, I think Bergamot is the best tea to pair with you.” 

Maybe he noticed how tired you were, or maybe it's where he knew Stanley could come back at any point, but he didn’t waste another moment before opening his mouth and inviting you inside. At this point, the warmth that it emitted and the darkness seemed like a good place to rest. You acquiesced, closing your eyes and waiting. 

He smiled more genuinely at the sentiment, appreciating how much you trusted him at this point. With the tip of his tongue, he cautiously slid you off the spoon onto the middle of his tongue. Not bothering to open your eyes, you let the light that penetrated your eyelids slowly fade to black as the access to the outside world left. 

There was no point in moving, choosing to lay down content on the soft surface below you. The yellow hue always intrigued you, knowing that the physical form he picked to interact with Stanley and you still didn’t look quite human. It was endearing and uniquely the Narrator.

After letting you lay there for a bit, he carefully moved you, rolling you like candy to coat you in saliva and taste the residual tea. You felt him hum in satisfaction, and it made you wonder if he lied earlier and planned it this whole time. This went on for a bit, letting him do what he wanted without resistance. He proceeded to focus on pushing you to the roof of his mouth without hurting you, keeping you there while he sucked off the extra moisture to swallow along with the extra saliva. 

Satisfied, he lowered you back down, nudging you forward gently to rest at the front. You were sitting up to where your back hit his teeth. His tongue stopped trying to taste, settling to lay on your legs like a large weighted blanket. It was analogous to sitting in a chair with a quilt on in the cold winter; the whole gesture was soothing in a way you hadn’t felt for a long time. 

In this position, you could see the back of his throat like a dark, looming cave. Maybe if you first met the man, or with anyone else even, knowing you were inside a person that could easily just bite through you would instill you with a sense of fear that froze you in place. You would desperately claw your way out. Let your survival instincts kick in and fight tooth and nail.

In this circumstance, however, you chose to lean your head back and sigh happily. If you focused over his breathing, you could hear him shuffle with papers outside. You couldn’t tell if he was smiling or not with the teeth blocking your view, but you didn’t question if he was also enjoying this. It seemed you both were going to rest like this together until Stanley returned. This whole moment was an understanding. Something special you both were able to share as a form of reassurance, comfort, and trust. And so, you didn’t mind the view or the way you felt saliva pool around your legs. Even when you were inevitably swallowed and sent to his stomach, it would be welcomed knowing you were as close to the Narrator as you could be- where he was content knowing you were safe.

You don’t know how long you closed your eyes, but you were certain you dozed off at some point. The feeling of the Narrator slowly tilting his head back woke you. It was gradual, giving you time to stop him if you wanted to leave. But you didn’t. Rather, you moved to crawl to the back where his throat awaited your entrance. You just wanted to rest. 

Finally, you let the gravity take you, letting the muscles of his throat firmly grab you and push you downwards.

It never took long to reach his stomach. He designed his physical form that way, figuring the esophagus squeezing around you was too cramped. You dropped gracelessly into his stomach, swaying with you like a hammock. You were glad no one was here to see the embarrassing sight of you scrambling like a turned over beetle to sit upright, but your host still felt it judging from the way he huffed at the feeling of you frantically moving. 

Eventually, you settled in a comfortable position, laying down and sinking into the lining. You felt the walls press against you, one side more firmly- The Narrator pressing a hand on his middle where he knew you were. His simulated heartbeat didn’t falter once above you, a nice white noise that paired with the sound of his organs working around you. It was your cue to fall asleep.

It didn’t come as naturally as you thought it would. It was hard to sleep when you took the time to just relax and enjoy the presence of another all around you. You had to force yourself to close your eyes and count when he inhaled and exhaled. Slowly but surely, your exhaustion came back full force. 

Just as you felt your mind go cloudy, you felt the world vibrate around you. Your eyes snapped back open in alarm. It jostled you some, but not enough to force you to move. Even if it did, the hand that was still pressed against you from outside wouldn’t let you move too far. 

You heard about this phenomenon once or twice from Stanley when you actually got to see him, but you didn’t really believe him because it hadn’t happened to you yet.

The Narrator was fucking purring.

He probably thought you were already asleep after how tired you were earlier, but he was mistaken and now you knew his (not so terrible) secret. He would never live it down if you told him. Not like you would, afraid he wouldn’t let himself do it again if you let him know you knew. Everything was too much to stay awake though. The heat and humidity made you more tired than you already were. The sounds lull you to sleep like a lullaby. Hopefully you could stay in here for a few hours. 

As your consciousness was fading, you could faintly hear the sound of a typewriter clicking slower than usual where he only used one hand. The Narrator was willing to wait for Stanley now, the weight he felt inside him a reminder that he wasn’t alone.

Silly’s