Who: Stan Pines [
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
charlastan] and YOU
What: June catch-all, recovering from Monster Mushroom Month hulking him into a different kind of Beast
When: All of June
Where: Probably mostly the Pines house, but it'll be good for him to get out and about.
Warnings: CPTSD, aftermath of breakdown, (deer country brand) corruption, mild body horror, hypervigilance, dissociation, amnesia talk, probably some self loathing/depression. Will add more if needed.
( Are you tired of me yet? I'm a little sick right now, but I swear-- )
A. GET A LOAD OF THIS MONSTER - HE DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO COMMUNICATE (Pines House, Closed to the Pines)
[For all of May, a big fiery dog ran around the grove ruining garbage cans and trying to hide from any perceived threats it couldn't scare off or fight. Now, heading into June, that dog is gone and Stan Pines is left behind.
On a base level, he's fine - or, he should be fine. He's not a hellhound anymore! That's great, isn't it? Everything can just go back to normal and they can just sweep all of this under the rug like it never happened. He spent all month running away from everyone and he can run away from this too.
But then he gets a look in the mirror, and suddenly he gets why everyone's been looking at him like he's lost it.
His skin is ashy and his eyes are bright blue in an almost alien sort of way. There's also a lot more of them than usual, four vaguely tear-drop shaped things clustered around his right eye. Patches of skin are flaking off into ashes, revealing blue fire burning underneath. He can't feel any of it though, he can't even see out of the extra eyes, but what he does notice on his own is how he still has sharp fangs that feel too big for his mouth. No wonder they didn't give him back his dentures. He lifts up a hand, like he's going to be able to wipe away what's on the glass, but stops when he sees that hand has claws attached, sharp and black - a reminder of the creature he was, the Beast that's so close to ripping back out of him just by thinking about it. He tries to laugh it off, but for once no sound comes out.
Time skips.
He's in the bathroom, trying to scrub the black off his hands, but they won't come clean. They don't look like his hands, and the stupid fangs won't come out either. Fuck if he remembers how he got there or what he said to leave everyone in the dust, but he's there now. He closes his eyes, not sure if he's closing two or six, and tries to catch his breath, bring himself back to the moment. He can feel his beating heart, but he ignores it to listen for anyone lurking outside the door. God, this was a dumb move.]
B. HIS MIND IS IN A DIFFERENT PLACE (Pines house, early-mid June)
[It get easier day by day. Talking about it still sucks, but he's been pushed into this weird corner where no one in this goddamn house is going to believe him if he says he's fine, so he's been tentatively letting people baby him in whatever ways they want. It's harder than when he lost his memories. At least then he didn't really know them and didn't remember any of the very valid reasons he definitely has to be ashamed of accepting help. Plus there was an obvious concrete goal back then - to put all the pieces of his brain back in order.
A lot of it though it just a weird amount of resting? That shouldn't surprise him - he's told Dipper the same thing when he was corrupted to near beasthood, but it's always easier to take care of others than himself. When it's him, it just feels like he's slacking. Shouldn't he be doing something else?!
He's kind of skittish about it at first. Napping is one thing - he's an old man, he's allowed to nap wherever and whenever he wants - but there's something embarrassing about getting caught doing other just for fun tasks when he wasn't expecting anyone to notice. It's hard to let go of being on guard all the fucking time, so if you see him with a book in hand that's immediately going behind his back where no one can see it. The glasses he's wearing are different though - an old pair he found when they were originally investigating the house.]
...What? You didn't see anything!
C. WILL EVERYBODY PLEASE GIVE HIM A LITTLE BIT OF SPACE? (out and about, mid-late June)
[By the end of the month, he's getting out more. More specifically, he's looking for weird stuff to add to that art room he has. It hit him recently that he's barely touched it since he got here, even though all of the stuff is right there, waiting to be used. A part of him is always going to resist buying things when he could find them on his own, so he's going out for more walks and bringing home weird shit he found on the ground. He's kind of getting the hang of what he can and can't run off with by now. Fish bones are off limits for example but he can run off with a couple of good snowman-style sticks no problem.
He still startles a little when approached suddenly, but he's trying to be cooler about it now that it's been a few weeks. He's pretty sure his complexion's getting a little better already, but that doesn't mean anything when he has a stupid amount of eyes. So when some inevitably looks appropriately horrified, he just flatly answers:]
What, is somethin' on my face?
[He knows damn well there is, but eh. Let the other person squirm about it for once.]
D. WILDCARD (Wherever, Whenever)
[If you want anything else, hit me up! Individual house calls are okay too, if anyone is worried and just wants to check on him. Will match format!] ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
etrayaooc
for the mercy of the Forest! 
