Clouds are omens, too. II The Stanley Parable Narrator x Reader HIATUS

Chapter 1

The Narrator WILL be out of character in your opinion! Not only did a friend request that this would be a bit different from the usual Narrator fic, but I'm using the characterizations from my own interpretations! The Narrator is kind of fucked up, he's infatuated with his own creation in a way Stanley CANNOT reciprocate, and aches to feel the presence of another form! Stanley doesn't love the Narrator, and I can't water down the Narrator's character to make Stanley love him. The Narrator mistreats and manipulates Stanley on multiple occasions in the game and I can't bring myself to disregard that. Either way, this is a reader insert (and technically a Narrator/reader but we aint there yet) so things are gonna be a bit odd! Love you, enjoy reading!

"This is the story of Stanley.

Stanley worked for a company in a big building where they were Employee #427.

Employee #427's job was simple: they sat at their desk in Room 427 and they created and published stories for the public domain.

Specific orders came to them through a monitor on their desk telling them what stories to create, how long to make them, and in what order.

This is what Employee #427 did every day of every month of every year, and although others may have considered it soul rending,

Stanley relished every moment that the orders came in, as though they had been made exactly for this job."

You moved your weight onto your right arm, leaning your head onto your palm. The game always opened like this, but you didn't mind. You simply waited and sat still, listening to the Narrator's smooth voice.

"And then one day, something very peculiar happened.

Something that would forever change Stanley;

Something they would never quite forget.

They had been at their desk for nearly an hour when they had realized not one single order had arrived on the monitor for them to follow.

No one had shown up to give them instructions, call a meeting, or even say 'hi'. Never in all their years at the company had this happened, this complete isolation.

Something was very clearly wrong. Shocked, frozen solid, Stanley found themself unable to move for the longest time.

But as they came to their wits and regained their senses, they got up from their desk and stepped out of their office."

You always admired how talkative the Narrator was, you could listen to him for hours and he'd still have something to say. Finally moving your hands back to your mouse and keyboard, you began to look around the office once more, turning around and searching your desk.

"No matter how hard Stanley looked, they couldn't find a trace of their co-workers.

Stanley went around touching every little thing in the office, but it didn't make a single difference, nor did it advance the story in any way.

A soft wind blew outside and perhaps rain started, and if it did it stopped shortly after. Stanley hoped that they would one day be caught in the downpour."

You hummed and stepped out of your office to look out the window, being met with the angelic blinding white that was the outside. You could've climbed out and fallen into the void, but it wasn't the ending you were looking for. The Narrator pestered you more to move on with his story, whining about your character not even going the right way.