#im sorry i feel like im rambling about nothing
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₊˚ʚ Rain in the woods (Ford Pines x fem!reader) ₊˚✧ ゚.
part 2 | part 1
author note: hey friends, so im sorry for taking so long, i wanted to post it this Saturday but i got lots of work, it's not proofread so I'm so so so sorry for any mistakes, i promise ill fix them a bit later!
also im working on some pre portal stan x reader x ford fic and it's filled with what we love the most - glass and angst (smut included!!), i know i always say it, but im so excited to share it with you guys <3
nsfw, minors dni
Stanford Pines — the enigmatic genius who’s always just beyond your reach, a mind so vast, it feels like trying to grasp the stars. You should be focused, but your gaze keeps flicking back to him. You’re utterly captivated, heart racing, mind spinning.
And then it happens. One moment, you're holding the mug, your fingers curled around it and the next it slips. No! The mug tumbles from your grasp, its ceramic form hitting the floor with a sharp, brutal crack that echoes through the room. You watch in helpless horror as it shatters into a thousand pieces, each fragment piercing the silence like a blade through your chest.
Your heart skips, thundering in your ears, and your face goes hot with embarrassment, an awful flush spreading across your skin as you turn your wide, panicked eyes toward Ford. His gaze meets yours, a mix of surprise and concern, but it’s his calm that gets you.
“Oh shit—” your voice cracks and you curse yourself silently, mortified. Of course, you would screw up right now, in front of him. Stanford fucking Pines, the man whose brilliance makes your own thoughts feel clumsy, an intellectual giant, and here you are, tripping over a damn mug. The pieces of it seem to scatter in slow motion, like a dream you can’t wake up from. You’re so stupid. You feel so stupid.
“I’m sorry— I'm so sorry,” you ramble, desperate to somehow undo the mess, your hands trembling at your sides. You want to sink into the floor, disappear, fade away. How could you be this careless?
But then Ford takes a step forward, and everything inside you freezes. His eyes are soft, so much softer than you expected, softer than anyone else’s gaze ever could be. He’s not angry, not even irritated. Instead, he’s. . . calm. “Hey, it’s alright,” he says, a chuckle escaping him, as though the whole situation is laughable, as though you’re not standing there, mortified in front of him. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve dealt with worse. Trust me.”
For one second, everything really seems to slow down as his words sinks into you like a balm. You believe him. It’s impossible to not. He’s seen everything and here you are, worrying over a broken mug.
“Im really sorry,” you stammer again, caught off guard by the softness in his tone, the tenderness in his gaze. What did you expect? That he’d scold you, dismiss you? But no. He’s calm, like this minor catastrophe is nothing. As if nothing could rattle him, as if you, standing there like a fool, didn’t matter at all.
Stanford laughs. “You know, after all I’ve been through, interdimensional beasts, curses, that damn triangle demon, a shattered mug would be nothing. So don’t apologize.” his eyes meet yours. “Im not made of glass. It takes more than a broken cup to rattle me.”
And then his voice lowers with that quiet authority. “Sit down,” he commands softly. “I’ll handle this. Don’t want you getting hurt.”
You can’t help it. His voice sounds so low, commanding, yet laced with something so tender it makes your skin tingle. The words come easy from his lips, but when they’re aimed at you, they tear through you. They make you feel like you’re something precious, something to be cared for, protected. But more than that, a part of you craves to be held by him, right now, right in this moment. To be pressed back into the cushions of the sofa, feeling the strength of his arms, making you feel like you’re the only one in his world.
You’re not just obeying his words, you’re aching to obey.
That’s why without thinking, you sink into the soft cushions. And shit, there he is — bending down, his bare chest covered with scars still glistening from the rain, droplets make you ache. They fucking shimmer on his skin, taunting you, daring you to touch him, taste him, make him yours. Every inch of him is fucking perfect. God, how are you even supposed to think straight when he looks like that? Your body is screaming for him, for his touch, for everything.
You try to look away. You can’t. His broad shoulders, his strong fucking arms, his hard chest. It’s too much. He’s a fucking masterpiece and all you want is for him to paint you in ways you can’t even process yet. Your body betrays you, again, that warmth spreading low in your belly, growing. You cross your legs, trying to hide the desperate need that’s already pooling between them. Fuck, how are you supposed to calm this down? It only gets worse.
He’s everything you’ve ever wanted and it’s all laid out in front of you, impossible to ignore. His every movement is so natural, so fucking sexy, it makes your pulse race. You just know he can make you feel things you didn’t even know your body was capable of.
You’re trying to calm yourself, really, you are.
You cross and uncross your legs again, desperate to release some of the tension building between your thighs, but it only makes it worse. Fuck, why is this so hard? Every thought you have is consumed with him, with what he could do to you, what he should do to you. And the more you try to control it, the more your body betrays you.
You need to touch yourself, but you’re stuck, just waiting, consumed by the need for him.
And then, the thoughts take over completely.
You’re delusional to the point where you feel his hands on your legs, parting them, spreading you wide. You imagine him on his knees, lowering his head, his lips tracing the inside of your thighs, so fucking gentle, so goddamn slow, as he watches you with those eyes, sharp, hungry, possessive. And then, he presses his tongue to your clit, licks you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, making you whine for him.
You bite down on your lip, trying to hold it back, but it’s impossible. You need him. You want him between your legs, fucking you so deep you can’t think straight, making you beg for it. Fuck, what would he say? “That’s it, baby. . . just like that… good girl, taking what I give you. . .” the words seeping into your skin like a drug you can’t quit.
You bite down hard on your lip, desperate to keep quiet, but your body is louder than you’ll ever be. Fuck, your body’s soaking through, your pussy throbbing for his touch, and all you can do is stare at him, mesmerised. His body is a goddamn work of art, and you want to trace every inch of it, feel it on top of you, pushing inside you, taking you.
It’s so fucking embarrassing, but you can’t stop it. Your body’s so ready for him, for his hands, for his cock. You can almost taste him, can almost feel his cock sliding inside you, filling you so nice.
Fuck, any writer of erotic novels would envy your imagination. The thought of him getting rough with you, pushing you down into the cushions, fucking you into the sofa until you can’t think, can’t breathe. “You’re mine now, sweetheart. Mine to fuck whenever I want. You belong to me.”
The thought of him pounding into you, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer, makes you want to lose your mind. You just want to hear him growl your name as he fucks you like you’re the only thing that matters.
And you know you’ll let him. Let him claim you, take you apart, until you’re nothing but a mess of pleasure, a good girl begging for more.
“Hey,” Ford’s voice drags you back into reality, unwantedly. Your heart stutters in your chest as you blink, trying to focus on anything other than the way your body’s still burning, aching for him. He’s looking at you, brows furrowed, the concern on his face so fucking intense it almost makes you want to tell him everything you’re feeling, right here, right now. But you can’t. God, you can’t. Not when the way he looks at you like that.
“Are you alright? You don’t look too well.” his voice is full of worry, but there’s that edge of guilt creeping in as he mutters, “I really should’ve checked the forecast before dragging you out in this mess. . . feels like a bit of a fool for that.” his fingers are rubbing the back of his neck in that shy way he does, that little sign of guilt that makes your stomach clench in a way that’s too much to handle.
But it’s his fucking proximity that’s driving you wild. He’s so close now, standing there shirtless, looking like some goddamn wet dream come to life. You can’t focus on anything but his body, the way the rainwater trails down his skin, glistening so beautifully. Fucking fuck.
“No, Ford, im absolutely okay, I swear—”
“Hold still,” Ford commands and that’s when you feel his hand so damn warm against your forehead, sending a shockwave of need straight through you. His touch is too fucking soft and yet it feels like it’s scorching you. Or maybe it’s just the fact that you’re so goddamn horny your body’s reacting to the smallest contact.
You try to calm yourself, try to act normal, but it’s too fucking hard. You force a weak smile. “I told you, I— I’m fine,” you answer, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. It’s all you can do to not let the truth slip. You want to scream it, how much you need him, how much you ache for him right now, but you don’t. Not yet. Never probably.
Ford’s brows knit tighter together and his eyes lock onto yours. He’s not fooled, not for a second. “You’re lying. Don’t try to brush it off. If you’re not feeling well, you need to tell me.”
The urge to confess everything is unbearable. You want to tell him you’re not sick, you’re just fucking drenched in need, that’s all! Aching for him to pull you into his arms, to kiss you until you can’t breathe. But instead, you do the only thing you can do: you force a nervous laugh, a weak attempt to play it off.
“No, I swear I’m fine! I could go on a thousand more anomaly hunts with you!” the words spill out with a little too much enthusiasm, a little too much frenzy and you pray to whatever god is listening that it’s enough to get him off your case.
Ford’s eyes narrow and he crosses his arms, still towering over you, still so close
Man, just step back or I'll pounce on you and eat you.
“Cold rain can do a lot more damage than you think. You could’ve caught something serious, and ignoring it won’t help. Do you have any idea how quickly a fever can develop if you’re already run down?”
Oh no, his voice shifts into that familiar, lecturing tone, the kind that makes you want to both roll your eyes and lean in closer to hear more.
When he says something about cold exposure affecting the immune system, you should be paying attention. You try to focus on his words, but it’s hard when he’s standing there — half naked, with his chest on full display, his messy hair slightly wet from the rain. God, he's just so fucking handsome. The serious, worried look in his eyes makes you weak and you can’t help but sink a little deeper into the sofa.
Just as Ford’s lecture hits a peak, the door swings open with a loud bang and Stanley Pines strolls in, halting mid-step as his eyes zero in on the scene before him. Ford, half-naked, standing too close for comfort, and you, perched on the sofa with that nervous smile plastered across your face.
Stan’s grin stretches wide, clearly loving the situation as he leans casually against the doorway. His eyes flick between you and Ford, then he gives Ford an exaggerated once-over, raising an eyebrow at his lack of turtleneck. “Well, ain’t this cozy,” he drawls sarcastically, giving a smirk that only widens when he spots Ford’s obvious discomfort. “Ya know, Sixer, when I said ‘show the girl a good time,’ I didn’t mean literally strip down to do it.”
Ford’s eyes snap toward his brother, his mouth twitching in a way that’s almost a grimace. His posture straightens, arms crossing defensively as he glares at Stan. “Stanley, really? Must you always reduce everything to your level? She dropped a mug and I was helping her avoid a mess. You wouldn’t understand, but maybe try acting your age for once.”
“Hey, all I’m sayin’ is, if ya plan on gettin' cozy, maybe take it to a couch that ain’t mine.” Stanley’s gaze slides over to you, flashing a wink. “But if you’re lookin' for company, darlin’, I’m more than happy to—“
Before you can let the awkwardness spread more, you spring into the conversation, desperate to steer it somewhere less humiliating. “Stan, actually, Ford was just helping me to—” you force a friendly smile, trying to make light of the situation.
Stan laughs like he’s heard it all before. “Sure thing, toots. But between you and me. . . you’re doin’ a hell of a job of keepin’ my brother here on his toes. Haven’t seen him all riled up like this since. . . well, ever.” your heart thump so loudly in your chest, you’re sure everyone can hear it.
Ford’s jaw clenches so tight, you can practically hear his teeth grinding, but he doesn’t look away from Stan. The vein in his neck starts to twitch.God, it’s almost painful how much he wants to just end this conversation, end this moment, and pull you somewhere private, somewhere safe, where he can have you all to himself, but he doesn’t. “Stan, enough. We have an anomaly to inspect. Something I’d actually prefer not to delay any longer.”
Stan lets out a low whistle, clearly enjoying every second of Ford’s discomfort. “Yeah, yeah. Go on, Sixer, run off to your little projects. Just don’t forget there’s a real world out here, alright?” he gives you a quick nod, still smirking. “and you, don’t let him lock you in his lab too long, sweetheart.”
***
Grumpy Ford. The kind of irritated, scowling Ford you never realized you’d find so irresistibly enticing. That brooding frustration, that laser-sharp focus, you can’t help but imagine all that intensity turned on you, directed into every inch of your body.
God, if he just shoved you back onto that workbench right now, you’d let him. You wouldn’t care if his precious equipment went crashing to the floor, wouldn’t even flinch at the thought of papers and tools scattering everywhere. All you want is him, his body pinning you down, hands gripping you like you’re the anomaly he’s desperate to dissect, figure out, devour.
Holy shit, you want him to push you up against that wall, pin you down until you’re writhing underneath him, his body grinding against yours, every bit of that frustration poured right into you.
Slick heat building between your thighs as you watch him, the way he moves around his lab, muttering in frustration as he punches numbers into some device, brows knitted in that fierce focus. And all you can do is want his hands on your hips, his mouth on your neck, his cock driving into you like you’re all he’s thinking about.
“The rain seems to have masked the anomaly’s energy signature. I suspect it might be due to ionization in the— are you even listening?”
His voice snaps you back, he’s tearing right through your flimsy attempts at focus with that intense gaze of his, as if seeing everything you’re thinking. You offer him a small, sheepish smile. “Of course I am! Gravity, paranormal. . . s-signatures, right?” you say, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your eyes keep drifting over his body, your ache throbbing inside, thighs pressing together as he stands there, so close you could reach out, slip your fingers through the fabric of his clothes, feel the warmth of his skin.
Ford lets out a soft, exasperated sigh. “Honestly, you’re as distractible as Stan.”
He turns away, but your eyes don’t leave him. Instead, you let your gaze slide over the room, until something catches your eye. A strange, helmet-like device bristling with wires and so, without thinking, you ask, “Hey, what’s that thing?”
Ford’s gaze follows yours, his expression changes as he considers whether to answer. “That’s a thought-reading device. Designed to access certain mental frequencies,” he explains, stepping closer to it and closer to you. “It can pick up surface thoughts. . . theoretically, anyway. I was working on it before I. . . uhm, it’s meant to strengthen and protect someone’s mental processes. Block out. . . certain entities from gaining access to their mind.”
A mind-protective device. Of course, he’d build something like that. It’s so him, his beautiful mix of intellect, caution, that underlying fear of what he’s seen, what he’s had to fight.
“So, it could let me peek into that brilliant mind of yours?” it’s a playful a tease, mostly. But inside you just ache to know, to wonder, to feel his thoughts. Would he think about you. even once, in the same filthy, breathless way you think about him?
Stanford grins. “In theory, yes, but it’s hardly necessary. My mind is. . . complex, too complicated for most people to understand."
And then, suddenly, unexpectedly, Ford lifts the machine, his grin is bigger. “Why don’t you try it on?”
Your heart slams against your chest and panic sears through you, cutting under your carefully held composure. Oh god. No. No, no, no. Every filthy thought, every desperate image of him, of those long, deft fingers tracing down your skin, of his mouth, his hands, of him pinning you down and splitting you open on his cock, of moaning his name until you can’t breathe. All of it, laid bare, displayed for him to see?
You choke down the crazy urge to run, instead forcing yourself to laugh. “Why, Professor Pines, are you doubting my integrity?” you counter, flashing him a daring smirk, praying it’s enough to distract him from the heat that’s burning its way up your cheeks.
Ford chuckles in response. “Integrity?” he repeats, his tone mocking. “No. But curiosity? Oh, absolutely. I think it would be enlightening to see what actually goes on behind that amused little expression of yours.”
“There’s nothing interesting in my mind,” but your words barely sound convincing to you, let alone to him.
Ford tilts his head, arching his brow in that all-too-familiar, skeptical way that makes you want to simultaneously squirm and melt. “Oh really? You know, most people would be thrilled to test out new technology. But you. . . you’re avoiding it like it’s some kind of torture device.”
“Oh, yeah, you know,” a poor attempt at casual. “I just. . . don’t wanna risk, you know, brain cells or something.” you resist the urge to roll your eyes. God, please just buy it. . .
Ford’s laughter rumbles and by the look on his face, you know he doesn’t quite believe you. But, mercifully, he lets it slide. “Alright, alright,” he relents. “I’ll spare you. This time.”
***
The rest of the evening is a haze of Ford’s intense meticulous rambling as you both sit tucked away in the quiet of his lab, soft lamp light casting warm shadows that stretch over the various gadgets, books, and uncharted maps sprawled out on every available surface, his domain, the world he’s always losing himself in.
He’s explaining again, his words so precise about the anomaly you saw earlier today. His voice rises with each detail, the way the rain altered it, how it vanished before either of you could even think to grab it. You should be focused, but his beautiful voice turns into a lullaby. Your eyelids grow heavy, your body sinking deeper into the chair.
And Ford notices.
The way your head tilts too far, your eyes fluttering closed just a little too long. He’s not as lost in his thoughts as he likes to think. His gaze sharpens, flicking to you with that careful, assessing precision he’s always had. He sees that quiet exhaustion in the way your posture slumps, the way your breath catches unevenly as your body fights against the pull of sleep.
His voice softens. “You’re exhausted,” he murmurs. “Of course you are. . . It’s too late. Go, get some rest. This. . . all of this will still be here tomorrow.”
A sigh tries to escape your chest before you can stop it. You want to protest, to stay longer, to pass just little bit more time with him. But the way he looks at you makes the words die before they can leave your lips. There's something unspoken in his eyes, a quiet concern mixed with that stubborn, unyielding sense of responsibility.
You try to stifle a yawn, your hand reaches out, fingers brushing the fabric of his sleeve, as if the touch might change his mind. “Maybe. . . maybe just a bit longer?” however even your own voice sounds tired.
His answer is gentle but final. “No. You need to sleep. I’ll be here, as always.”
You don’t argue. When you step away, you catch one last glimpse of him, standing amidst the piles of notebooks, the soft light casting shadows along the lines of his face, catching the silver in his hair in a way that’s so painfully beautiful so you let yourself stay a little longer before you close the door.
***
The silence that reigns in the room after you leave feels like a huge, endless void that stretches to all corners of the laboratory and suffocates in its stillness. Ford exhales slowly, a sigh caught between frustration and something deeper he can’t quite name. His gaze lingers on the door, where you disappeared through just moments ago, soft sound of your footsteps still echoing in his mind. God, he’s such a fool, he thinks, fingers pressing to the bridge of his nose, rubbing at the ache that’s been building inside him ever since you spoke those soft words, just a little longer.
He couldn’t stop it, couldn’t ignore it. The way you leaned in, hanging onto his every word, as if he were something more than he really was, something beyond the man who hides behind his work, behind his mind. The weight of your trust presses on him and with it comes the unbearable pressure of knowing he doesn’t deserve it.
And God, he tries to keep himself restrained. He tells himself that this is madness, that you’re too young, that every second he spends watching you, wanting you, is a betrayal of everything he’s tried to build.
But you’re gone now and his lab feels emptier than ever. Even as he reaches for his journal, his thoughts are still tangled with you, with the way you looked at him, the way your sleepy eyes followed his every move, the way you seemed to hang on to every word, every breath he took. Did you even realise what you were doing to him?
And as he opens his journal, he knows there will be no more notes on anomalies tonight. No theories, nothing but the restless, fevered words he can never, ever say aloud. Ford knows that if these thoughts ever slipped past his lips, they’d destroy you. You’d never look at him the same again. And he can’t lose you. He couldn’t bear to watch that disgust fill your eyes, that revulsion as you saw him for what he truly is: a man with a heart full of shame, but aching for you all the same.
He writes with a fever, the words coming too quickly for him to even think them through. He’s confessing things he’ll never have the courage to say to you. The way you make him ache, how wrong it feels, how unnatural it is to want you this way. You’re so young, so vibrant, so full of life. How could someone like him, an old man, a man of logic and reason, ever think he could want someone like you?
And yet, it’s all he can think about. It’s all he does think about.
God help him, he wants you.
Stanford’s hand trembles as he writes fast.
“The way she seems to lean closer with every word I speak, as if I’m some kind of god to her. I can’t breathe when she’s near, but I can’t stand being away from her either.”
He’s sickened by it, disgusted by the way his hands ache for you, by how his thoughts run into places he can’t control. But even so, he thinks, I can’t stop. I can’t stop wanting you.
“If only she knew what I was dreaming about, how I want to erase all layers of distance between us. I want to melt into her, touch every inch of her skin, as if she was made to belong to me, only to me.“
Ford can’t let you know how deeply he feels, how far he’s fallen for someone like you, someone so out of reach, someone who might never look at him the way he looks at you. Because if he did, if he let those words slip from his lips it would ruin you. It would break you.
And he can’t do that.
Not to you.
So, he writes. He writes because it’s the only way he can make sense of the mess inside of him. The only way he can be close to you without breaking everything.
“God, if she knew, she'd never see me as anything but the perverted old man I am.”
“God help me. . . I want her breathless. I want her shaking, clinging to me as I bury myself inside her, feeling every inch of her wrap around me like she was made for this. I want her to be mine. The years between us be damned—”
One sentence, scribbled with shaking hands: “if she knew how much I want to make her come on my cock while explaining the fundamental laws of interdimensional, she’d never look at me same way again”
“I want her shaking, spent, marked by me, by the man twice her age who should know better but can’t help himself.”
“I picture teaching her how to harness interdimensional energy, but my mind twists it, images shifting until it’s my body pressed to hers, whispering “concentrate sweetheart,” while I trust into her from behind. Her breath would stutter as I correct her technique with my hands on her hips.”
“I shouldnt crave her, not with the years that separates us like an unyielding chasm. Yet when she laughs, carefree and obvious, I imagine making her cry my name, hands guiding her hips as I thrust inside up into her, showing her exactly what an older man can do. Showing her why age doesn’t matter when she’s trembling and breathless beneath me.”
“She's got no idea, does she? I want her bent over my desk, books and notes scattered beneath her, while I thrust into her like some animal in heat, filling her over and over until there's nothing left of her but soft, pleading sounds and the way her body pulls me back in with every move. I’d guide her, make her feel exactly what it means to be touched by a man who’s twice her age and twice as obsessed.”
Meanwhile, now, alone in your room, you’re haunted by the memory of your lovely scientist, pulsing between your legs, leaving a needy ache that’s impossible to ignore. Just thinking about him, the strong lines of his hands, those six fingers that could make you see stars. . . it all sends a jolt straight through your body and suddenly, you’re melting, undone, utterly helpless to this craving for him.
You let yourself fall back into your bed, eyes closed, his presence wrapping around you like a ghost you can’t shake off. You can’t even catch a steady breath now, the dampness pooling between your thighs, every inch of you begging to be touched — not by yourself, no. You need him, his skilled, explorative touch, those six clever fingers. The memory of every stolen glance, every careful brush of his hand, it all coils up inside, a slow, delicious torment, and now it’s throbbing there, heavy with need.
You drag your fingers down the length of your body, tracing where his hands might go as you imagine him, his fingers slipping lower, finding that sweet, drenched ache and grazing it with a delicate touch that he’d know so damn well. 'Fuck,' you’d gasp, his name like a prayer on your lips as his six fingers roam, rough and relentless, pressing right against that needy opening, filling you up until you’re nothing but breathless whimpers and cries for more.
“God, sweetheart,” you hear his voice, “I’ve wanted this for so damn long. Do you feel that? How hard you make me?” and then he’d press his cock between your legs, hot veins throbbing against your entrance, and you can feel his breath on your neck as he tells you what a beautiful mess you’ve become for him.
Your fingertips brush over your clit as you imagine his hand there, gentle but insistent, exploring you with that scientist's curiosity, his six fingers pressing slow, circling that sensitive bud, coaxing soft gasps from your lips. “Let me feel you. Take it slow, sweetheart. Let me make you mine.” but even as you touch yourself now, imagining his fingers in place of yours, it’s still not enough
You arch from own hand, fingers gliding through the wetness now slick and ready, you press a little harder on your clit, circling it faster, imagining the way his hands would dig into your skin, his strong arms wrapped around you as he thrusts into you, “take it all, darling. Every inch of me.”
And by some lucky chance, Ford stands outside your door, his pulse slamming hard against his ribs, a wreck of a man just clinging to sanity. The sound of you — all gasping, breathy moans slipping through the thin wood, whispering his name in that desperate little voice — he can’t help himself as his hand flies up to the doorframe, his fingers digging in so hard they’re going white, knuckles taut, trying to keep himself together.
But the universe is laughing at him, at his pathetic attempt at control, at the sheer uselessness of his restraint, because fuck, every gasp you make sinks its teeth into him.
Something hot runs through him, then it sinks low, thickening in his chest, then spreads down between his legs. His cock twitches, rock-hard and aching, straining against the fabric, pressing hard, begging for the attention he keeps denying it. He shouldn’t be here — hell, he should be miles away by now, somewhere that isn’t two inches from falling apart at the sound of you! But he’s not. He’s a goddamn mess, held hostage to the way you’re sighing his name.
“Fuck, sweetheart. . .” he’s going insane out here.
Ford knows how you look right now, imagined it thousands of times, laid out on your bed with those soft thighs parted, hands trailing down, fingertips grazing over warm, damp skin, teasing yourself open, getting yourself wet just for him. Fuck, he thinks, I shouldn’t be this fucking desperate.
Ford lets his hand slip down, pressing hard against the hardness straining in his trousers, feeling himself throb against his own palm. There’s no relief, just that painful, growing ache that has him grinding his teeth, biting back the low, broken sound that wants to rip free from his throat. He’s a man undone, ruined just by the thought of you, the image of you with your legs open, your body calling out for him like he’s the only one you need.
“Jesus, fuck. . .” his free hand reaches down, trembling as he slides it beneath his waistband, wrapping around the throbbing heat of his cock, feeling himself swell, hard and pulsing against his palm. It’s wrong, so wrong to be here, touching himself to the sound of your little whimpers, but fuck if he can stop.
The sounds coming from your room grow louder and it’s too much for him. He’s already so fucking close as he imagines himself on top of you, sinking inside you, feeling your cunt wrapped tight and hot around him, your body arching, your hands clawing at his back, those delicate fingers pulling him close, begging him not to stop.
Ford’s back collides with the lab door as he stumbles in, chest heaving, adrenaline of hearing his name on your lips. He locks the door behind him.
Fumbling hands tug at his belt, fingers clumsy, impatient, tearing at the fabric as it’s the only thing standing between him and relief. Finally, the belt slides free, and he wraps a shaky hand around his cock, swallowing down a low hiss as the raw heat of his own skin meets his grip.
He strokes himself roughly and desperately, letting his thumb graze the sensitive tip with a ragged groan that he’s helpless to contain. His mind runs further, and he pictures you, perfect and pliant, sinking to your knees before him with eyes so innocent, with lips parting as you take him into your mouth. As you let him fuck your throat.
A shiver runs through him and he leans his head back, sighing, groaning and grunting louder as he loses himself in the fantasy. God, if you only knew. If you could see him like that, a desperate moaning and trembling mess with his hand wrapped around his leaking cock.
“Ahh— ffuck,” hell, just how much he wants to hear you make those sounds too, moan for him, he wants to feel you beneath him, warm and soft, clinging to him, legs tangled around his waist as he sinks into you. His strokes become faster. Ford imagines pressing you down onto the lab table, your dripping pussy welcoming him as he thrusts deeper, deeper, deeper, deeper until there’s no part of you he hasn’t claimed. His breath hitches, hips bucking into his hand as he imagines the way your walls would tighten around him, clenching, pulling him in.
He’s shaking now, barely able to hold himself together, his free hand clutches at the edge of the workbench, knuckles white, as he lets himself sink fully into the fantasy. You’d look so damn perfect spread out for him. Ford’s hand moves faster, tighter, fueled by the image of you writhing beneath him, helpless, pleading, so sweet and open, absolutely his, his beautiful girl, sweetest thing.
The pressure building until he can’t take it anymore. His hips jerk, a loud needy moan spilling from his lips as he cums, his body shuddering with release. For a few long, breathless seconds, everything fades: his mind, his shame, everything but the overwhelming, blinding wave of pleasure.
***
The morning breaks, a new day arriving, one that promises to be spent with Ford close by— and, isn’t that something to look forward to?
When you meet Stanford, the first thing you hear is, “Did you not learn anything from last time?“
You bite your lip to keep from laughing, but before you can protest, Ford is stepping closer, his coat swishing around him as he moves. The wool of his scarf unravels with practiced ease, and in a smooth motion, it’s over your shoulders, the warmth of it spreads around your neck. You want to say something, but all you can focus on is the way Ford’s thumb traces the edge of the scarf, his touch so delicate it feels too intimate for something so simple.
This shouldn’t feel like it does, you think, but your body screaming what your mind refuses to admit.
“There,” Ford says, stepping back. “You’ll thank me later.”
“I thought you checked the forecast this time,” you tease, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t today supposed to be sunny?”
Ford crosses his arms with a smile. “Yes, well. . . One can never be too cautious. After all, last time—“
“—last time, I nearly froze my ass off,” you finish, the laughter bubbling up between you and Ford shoots you a look that’s equal parts exasperated and fond, like he’s about to scold you but can’t help himself.
“I wasn’t going to put it quite so crudely,” he says, but that reluctant chuckle escapes him before he can hide it.
When the sun climbs higher, the forest around you changes in hues of gold, the leaves thinning just enough to let the light filter through in soft rays. You walk side by side, close enough to hear the rhythmic crunch of your footsteps in the fallen leaves and Ford’s murmured observations, but it’s all you can do not to lose yourself in him. His words float past, about terrain, weather, anomalies and predictions, but your mind doesn’t follow, not when your eyes keep straying to him.
You can’t help but wonder if there’s any room left for you in his head, if he ever thinks about anything other than those damned anomalies. A piece of you wants to shake him, to pull him from his thoughts, to remind him that life is more than equations and mathematics. But, god, there’s something so cute about him when he’s like this, so fully consumed by his world, and you can’t look away.
“You’re thinking about something,” Stanford starts, pulling you out of your trance. “Is it the anomaly, or. . .?”
“Just wondering what it is we’re actually tracking. I mean, last time it disappeared before we could even get a good look, so. . . what’s the plan if it shows up again?”
Ford’s face lights up with approval at your question. “It’s an elusive creature, no doubt,” and again, his voice slips into that familiar lecture tone, one you’ve learned to love despite yourself. “But this time, I have a better understanding of its behaviour. The rain threw it off last time, but if my theory is correct, today’s dry weather should keep it on course! And if we can corner it near the ravine, there’s a chance we might get a clear reading on its—”
“Ford,” you interrupt, he stops talking, his brow lifting slightly. “I mean, yes— corner it near the ravine,” you repeat. Wait, what did you just say?
“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Ford asks, smiling at you. “If you’re still tired from yesterday, I can handle this on my own.”
You scoff, rolling your eyes, crossing your arms as you look at him defiantly. "Oh, please. I said I could do this a thousand times over with you and still keep up,” you challenge.
He laughs again and his laughter is so damn cute. “That, I don’t doubt.”
Time pass and as you walk beside Ford, your mind drifts, you're not really thinking about the anomaly or the hunt anymore. No, your thoughts are elsewhere. Again. Somewhere they shouldn’t be, but there they are. You can’t help but notice the way the sun highlights the strands of silver in Ford's hair, the curve of his shoulders as he walks, his posture so effortlessly confident and strong. And you think about how much you liked the way his body looked in the rain yesterday, when the wetness clung to his clothes and made every line stand out even more.
You sigh inwardly, watching him from the corner of your eye. The weather, as perfect as it is, only makes you feel a bit wistful. Why did it have to be sunny today? You had been hoping for more rain. The kind of rain that soaked him through and made his clothes cling to his skin, the droplets tracing the curves of his chest. That was a sight you’d never forget. But today sun is too bright, too cheerful.
The soft breeze brushes your hair against your face, and you snap out of your thoughts just as you see the clearing ahead. Ford slows his pace, his gaze scanning the area with his usual calculated precision. And just as yesterday, air here feels different, as if charged. You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, the unease settling in. This is it, the spot where the anomaly was last seen. But, of course, there's nothing. The clearing is quiet, calm, completely empty.
Ford steps forward, looking around with a frown, muttering something under his breath. You stand there for a moment, waiting, listening to the wind rustle through the branches and the distant call of a bird. But there's nothing.
“Where is it?” you ask and Ford turns to you, his expression calm but with that familiar hint of worry in his eyes, the kind that usually only surfaces when he’s feeling frustrated.
“Don’t worry,” he says, though his voice sounds more like he’s trying to reassure himself than you. He straightens up, adjusting his glasses. “The anomaly will show itself. We’ve got all day to catch it.” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.
All day with Ford?
Your heart skips a beat and you have to fight to keep your expression neutral. What could be better than spending the entire day with him, just the two of you in this quiet, secluded place? No distractions, just you and Ford, and the anomaly that might never show up.
It takes a little more time while you and Ford are waiting for the anomaly to appear and so, a dialogue ensues.
“I’ve seen some more strange things. In all my years of research, there have been anomalies of all shapes and sizes. Creatures from dimensions we can’t even begin to understand. Some are harmless, just curious things that wander around, never meaning to cause harm. Others. . . Others are far more dangerous. I've seen creatures that could tear through steel without breaking a sweat. Their behavior is— well, unpredictable.”
“What about the really dangerous ones?”
“There's one anomaly, one creature that I’ve encountered that still haunts me, to this day.” he looks away for a moment, as if weighing the decision to tell you more. “a beast unlike any other. Its skin is like iron, nearly impenetrable. And its mind is relentless. It doesn’t think like us. It doesn’t have the ability to reason, only the ability to kill and survive.”
Wow, you already can see it in your mind — a massive, hulking creature, covered in jagged, metallic plates, its eyes wild with an animalistic hunger.
“And you’ve seen it?”
Ford nods slowly. “Yes, once. And it wasn’t an experience I care to repeat.” and then he calls you by your name. “Listen, if we encounter anything dangerous, you stay behind me. Don’t try to be a hero, don’t try to ‘help out.’ I’ve trained for this. I know these creatures; I know their instincts and behaviours. You. . . you don’t. It’s crucial that you follow my lead.”
“I’m not helpless, you know,” you mumble, folding your arms. “I can handle myself.”
But Ford only smirks, oh how cute you are. “And if you ever find yourself lost between dimensions, the key is to stay calm. Panicking is a surefire way to make yourself vulnerable. Reality in those places doesn’t play by the same rules. Your mind can trick you, distort what you’re seeing”
You stare at him, a mixture of awe and confusion washing over you. “Well, thanks, Ford, for the guide on how to travel through dimensions and fight the monsters that live in them.”
“Years of experience. Sometimes the hard way. But you don’t need to worry about that, alright? Just stick close, keep your wits about you, and we’ll make it out just fine.” he smiles.
“Easy for you to say,” you mutter, your gaze dropping to the forest floor. “You’re. . . you’re Stanford Pines. You’re used to dealing with this kind of thing. Me? I’d probably end up wandering off into some other dimension if I so much as blink wrong.”
He chuckles softly, and you feel his hand gently rest on your shoulder. “That’s why I’m here. To make sure you don’t.”
You open your mouth to respond, but then— crack. A twig snaps somewhere in the trees to your left. The sound is sharp, distinct, echoing through the quiet forest.
Your heart skips a beat and you instinctively grip Ford’s arm, eyes widening. He tenses, immediately going on alert as his gaze darts toward the source of the noise. “Stay behind me.”
You swallow, nodding as you press yourself close to him. Ford moves slowly, keeping himself between you and the sound, his shoulders squared, every muscle tense and ready.
Another rustle, this time from the other side. You bite your lip, feeling the cold prickling sensation of fear clawing up your spine. This doesn’t sound like a bunny, not in the slightest.
The sounds grow louder, surrounding you both. Ford’s posture tightens, his gaze focused and determined, while you hover close behind him, whatever lurks in the shadows isn’t friendly, and Ford, as always, stands ready to protect you at any cost.
Suddenly, Ford raises a hand, signaling for you to stay still. One. . . two. . . three—
A small, furry creature darts out of the bushes, a pudgy raccoon, more plump and inquisitive than fearsome. It scampers out, blinking innocently at you both and you feel sigh with a relief.
You slip out from behind Ford, who’s still standing rigidly, eyeing the raccoon with disbelief. “Well, would you look at that,” you say, glancing up at him with a slight grin. “Our terrifying forest intruder was just looking for a snack, huh?”
“Don’t get too close,” Stanford warns, still frowning. “These things are rarely alone.”
You laugh softly, crouching down and letting the raccoon sniff at your hand. “Oh, come on, Ford. You really think this little guy is hiding—”
The words die in your throat as you catch the look on his face, his eyes wide with sudden horror, mouth open as he shouts, “behind you!” and you whip around just in time to see something that makes your heart freeze, a hulking mass with matted fur and claws like daggers, looming in the shadows. Its eyes flash like yellow lanterns and a rank smell hits you, earthy and rotten all at once. You barely manage a step back before it lets out a furious roar, its maw wide enough to fit a head and then some. The sound is so loud it rattles through you and a splatter of spit flies from its jaws, landing on your clothes. You go stock-still.
“Th-that’s. . .” you stammer, but Ford’s voice interrupts you, calm and steady despite the chaos.
“Stay calm. It’s eyesight’s weak, but sound-sensitive. Just— slowly step back.”
You barely have time to take in his words before the beast’s head snaps toward you again, snarling with an intensity that shakes the trees. Immediately, Ford pulls out his gun, aiming directly at the creature, he fires off a round that echoes through the forest, hitting the beast and it lets out a howl of pain that sends birds scattering from the treetops. But it’s still very much alive, and now it looks angry, furiously angry. The monster's gaze is fixed on Ford with a vengeful glare, and he rushes towards him with a blood-curdling growl.
Ford stands firm, taking careful aim as he readies to fire again. But just as he steadies his grip, a branch underfoot shifts, making him stumble. The gun slips from his hand, landing somewhere in the tangle of roots and leaves and suddenly, he’s weaponless, the monster mere feet away.
Panic flares in your chest as you see the creature, claws poised, ready to strike. Ford scrambles back, but it’s too close, and something snaps inside you. Without thinking, you dart forward, adrenaline flooding through you and you grab a thick branch from the ground. With a yell that’s as much out of fear as it is determination, you swing it at the creature with everything you have, landing a blow that momentarily distracts it from Ford.
But that monster retaliates, slashing out in a blind fury and suddenly you feel the sting of claws raking across your leg. Pain flares sharp and hot, but you grit your teeth, ignoring it, keeping yourself steady enough to stay upright.
Ford seizes the moment, his eyes flashing with a mix of fury and fear as he snatches his gun from the ground, turning back to the creature. His voice is hoarse but resolute, “what are you doing?” he shouts irritably, calling your name again. “I told you to listen to me!”
With a final, controlled shot, he fires, the bullet hitting its mark. The monster lets out an agonized cry, staggering back before it turns and lumbers off into the dense woods, its snarl fading into the distance.
The adrenaline ebbs, leaving you and Ford alone in the sudden silence. His gaze finds yours, mad and worried all at once, his hand reaching out to steady you as your breathing finally starts to slow.
Ford’s face twists with frustration, jaw clenched tight and when he speaks, his voice is seething with barely controlled anger. “What the hell were you thinking?” he snaps. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed, charging in like that! I told you to stay back!”
You swallow, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks, not out of embarrassment or fear, but because, god, he’s hot when he’s angry, with that fire in his eyes and his tone like a damn storm. You force yourself to stay upright, despite the dull ache pulsing in your leg. “Ford, it’s fine. I just wanted to—”
But he’s already looking at you, really looking, his gaze flicking from your face to the way you’re leaning on your uninjured leg. “You’re hurt,” his tone dips from anger to something softer and worried. “Damn it, I should’ve never brought you out here. I’m such an idiot—“
“No, Ford, it’s just a little—” you try to brush him off, waving your hand dismissively, but as you shift your weight, a sharp bolt of pain shoots through your leg. You bite back a wince, forcing a smile. “Just a scratch, really.”
“Don’t even think about hiding this from me,” Ford turns annoyed and dead serious again, he steps closer as he assesses you, and there’s something really fierce in the way he insists, “Let me take a look. Now.”
For a moment, you think about arguing. But the pain flares again and you realise there's no winning against that look in his eyes. With a sigh, you give in, nodding reluctantly as you show him your new wound, from where the blood has already soaked into the fabric, turning it dark red.
Ford’s face changes instantly. “Damn it,” his hand hovers uncertainly like he wants to reach out, to touch, but doesn’t quite know where to begin. “This is— this isn’t just a scratch.”
His fingers finally settle gently around your calf, supporting you, his touch unexpectedly gentle as he examines the wound. You can feel his pulse under his fingertips, it’s obvious he’s anxious, and for a second, he doesn’t look like the Ford who always has the answers.
“This was my fault, I shouldn’t have— damn it, I should’ve kept you safe.”
***
The journey back to the shack feels agonizingly silent. Ford has one arm around your waist, nearly carrying you as you limp along, every step makes the wound throb in your leg. The sting, the ache, it’s all mingling with a sick sense of regret. You feel it settling in your chest. The whole day had been a disaster. You both went out to catch that anomaly, that one lead he was so excited about. . . and instead, you ended up facing something brutal. The monster had nearly killed you both.
Ford hasn’t spoken a word since the forest and with each passing second, it gnaws at you more. The thought appears in your mind, he must regret it. Bringing you along, letting you be there, yeah. . . he’s mad and not in the way you find hot. He’s distant, still supporting you, guiding you with a firm hand, but it’s as though he’s somewhere else entirely.
When you finally make it to the Shack, you find it blessedly empty. No Stan’s loud jokes or questions to break the heavy silence between you. Ford helps you to walk, still wordless and the whole way, you’re trying to find something to say. Some excuse, some apology, but every time you look over at him, you just see that grim look and you stop yourself.
Inside, he lets you sit on the couch. You clear your throat, forcing yourself to speak, to try to lift that heavy cloud around you. “Ford, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for things to go that way. I didn’t mean to—”
But Ford cuts you off. “No, don’t apologize. It’s my fault. I should never have let you come along, I put you in danger.”
That serious tone. . . You nod, saying nothing more and after a beat of silence, you get up slowly, mumbling something about heading to your room. Ford doesn’t stop you, and he watches you go, still worried as fuck, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s rooted there, expression tight as he watches you limp down the hall.
When you get to your room, you close the door softly behind you, but the pain in your leg has started pulsing heavier, sharper, demanding your attention. You look down and finally decide, you’re going to check it, even if just to prove to yourself that Ford’s look wasn’t warranted, that maybe you’re not as bad as he seemed to think.
You settle on the edge of your bed, carefully and slowly taking your pants off, but as you pull the fabric, the sight that greets you isn’t reassuring in the slightest. The cut on your thigh is deep, seeping a fresh, dark line of blood that’s begun to smear against your skin. “Fuck. . .” you curse, tilting your head to get a better look, your fingers hovering over the edges of the wound. Just as you’re mentally preparing to find the first aid kit, a familiar voice cuts through the silence.
“No, please, just— let me help still. I won’t be calm until I—”
In the midst of your concentration, you hear the faintest creak of the door, and before you can even react, it opens.
You barely have a moment to react, still sitting on the edge of your bed, the bloody gash on full display as Ford steps inside, eyes widening as he looks at you. He freezes and for a moment, you both just stare at each other in silence. You’re sitting there in your panties and a t-shirt, and you don’t know if to be happy or not, realising how exposed you must look. Ford’s gaze flickers to your bare legs, to the wound on your inner thigh.
You cross your legs in shock and embarrassment. “Ford, what—” you start, but he quickly raises a hand, cutting you off.
“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to—“ Ford approaches, he kneels beside the bed, looking up into your eyes. “I— I can’t just leave you like this,” he pleads. “Please. . . let me help.”
“Ford—“
Ford’s hands hover over your leg. “You need to stop the bleeding, disinfect it, make sure it doesn’t get infected. It’s going to hurt, but, I can help. I’ll be gentle. Just let me. . . please.”
His eyes search yours, a quiet desperation in them that seems to say more than just his words ever could. Ford may be brilliant when it comes to the unknown, but in moments like this, when it’s you that’s hurt, he’s lost, even if he tries to sounds smart. He doesn’t want to mess this up, doesn’t want to fail you.
Slowly, you nod, the vulnerability in his gaze too much for you to ignore.
“Alright,” you whisper. “but be careful, okay?”
#gravity falls x reader#gravity falls x you#x reader#gravity falls#gravity falls smut#ford pines x reader#stanford pines#ford pines smut#ford x reader#ford pines x you#stanford pines x you#stanford pines x reader#gravity falls stanford#smut#gravity falls fanfic#ford pines x oc
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yeah there's a lot to be said about media literacy, and i think its important to have a varied media diet--take in as much of the world as you can, etc. and ofc it's legitimately shitty when people insert tragedies into their fandom bs because they cannot read the room. that's never okay
but, in general, people posting a lot about fandom stuff online is harmless. social media is rarely an accurate look into someone's life, don't assume that their nerd shit completely consumes their waking life just because it's all they post about, y'know?
#'ummm we're not saying someone can't en joy things we're just asking them to get more hobbies'#1) okay. not what im talking about 2) tbh they probably do#like yes. in general. there is a big problem with social media addiction#and i am nowhere near qualified to discuss it#i just see a lot of people. intentionally or not. just being dicks about this sort of thing#people screenshoting *harmless* fandom posts or fan art to mock#writing paragraphs about how if an adult cries while watching a kids show then#they're lame and immature and need to watch Real TV#like im sorry sometimes art hits people in unsuspected ways!#its not a sign of some kind of failing in that person#im sorry i feel like im rambling about nothing#its just like. yes variety is important. both in hobbies and the works you read/watch#but you cannot psychoanalyze someone just because they said something you found cringy#if you think its stupid but its ultimately harmless. just block the person. block the tags. curate your own experience#mickey.txt
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it still fucks me up that fuyuhiko and peko were literally kidnapped as children. i dont think anyone ever talks about that at all. is that even well known information
#probably gonna draw something related to this??#sorry. sometimes i like to read his wiki from time to time and im just like. Oh.#this guy is fucked up. we been knew but Damn#it doesnt say how young he was when that happened to him#but since it emphasizes they were children and also he hasnt cried since second grade (and he cried in those mountains)#then he was like. eight years old?#god DAMN thats so sad. imagine what happened to them dude#thats gotta impact him for a long time. and he NEVER TALKS ABOUT IT!!!#sorry im full of thoughts. maybe this is nothing. i just heart fuyuhiko. poor guy#i feel like he never ever had a chance to fully process his trauma#until literally like. after the game . way later hes able to think about it#rambling#fuyuhiko kuzuryu#danganronpa
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Hello! I really like your art and comics with Jamil and your OC. It looks very cute!
I just want your thoughts on this as a Jamil lover. I really like Jamil but Idk why??? I like him so much that I cry whenever I don't get his card or daily greetings at login. He's not usually my type like Izuku or Tanjiro. Just want to know your thoughts since you like Jamil hehe. It's ok if you don't respond!
AAH THANK YOU SO MUCH it means a lot to hear you like them i really appreciate it!! 💖💕💖💕💖
ANYWAYS as a jamil enthusiast i ask myself that question too 🤠;;
dont know what kinda hypnotizing magic he did on me but it worked bc i was incredibly neutral about jamil when i first saw him and now he lives in my head rent-free
okay in all seriousness i ended up rambling about jamil and why i like him personally and it ended up longer than intended so uh proceed with caution under the cut 🧍
(i had to look up the characters you mentioned,,, i know both of the anime but BARELY know the characters so idk how to compare other than they seem to be the benevolent hero/protagonist type???) (so on that note theyre actual opposites??? of jamil 😭)
okay so for me i personally just find jamil’s character really fascinating (and relatable???)
like his character arc drew me in i think, i legit do not recall 100% how i started liking him bc he was NOT my usual type either
i saw him before book 4 and went “okay” 🤷 and moved on 😭
my usual type is kalim actually (the sunshine type with a depressing reason for being all sunshine-y lmao) but. i did not vibe at first with how kalim looks so i didnt really get attached to him either 🤧 (im absolutely fine with him now tho 😭 ive learned to appreciate him more thanks to other kalim enjoyers)
(and tbf a lot of twst characters i didnt think i would like but here we are)
back to jamil. alright maybe it’s his looks. maybe bc he’s a pretty guy idk. but if that’s the case i wouldve been all over vil bc he’s the definition of beautiful gorgeous guy who doesnt fw with gender norms but im NOT. instead it’s JAMIL.
i think it doesn’t help that aladdin is one of my favorite disney movies too 😭 jafar has that two-faced, manipulative disposition with a side of dramatic, and insane and that’s. actually just jamil.
so maybe i guess what drew me in with jamil is that sense of theatrics, the dramatics ;;; that dichotomy of having that level-headed, intelligent front he puts up but then also having this unhinged, unfiltered side that he shows when he is free to be more himself
i’m a sucker for seemingly calm and collected characters on the outside and then their true self being WAY more different and expressive
(i think this would make more sense if you’ve seen aladdin and if you remember how jafar is like in the movie) (i am also choosing to ignore that ONE scene with jafar and jasmine towards the end iykyk) (and the twst characters shouldnt be considered one-to-one with their disney counterparts anyway but i digress)
also scalding sands event my beloved it might be what actually sold me on him bc things like his little sister reveal and his childhood stories wrecked me
(also also i’m obsessed with his canon dynamic with kalim but that’s another thing altogether)
or maybe it’s not that deep and that i just grew attached for no particular reason 🧍 (and that reasoning in of itself should be completely fine as well if that’s your case! just. like who you like, there really doesnt have to be a reason as long as you enjoy them)
uhhhh in conclusion,,, jamil’s a really complex character tbh i could say so much more about his relatability but i feel like im already exposing myself a lot LMAO and i dont think i can properly articulate with words anyway how deeper his character is beyond my surface level thoughts
#[—✦ chatting#HELPP IM SORRY#i ended up rambling about why i like this dude 😭😭😭#it looks like i’m saying a lot but idk i feel like im just saying nothing 😭#anyways THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS KIND ASK 🫶#and sorry this took a bit to answer 😭#i was back and forth on how i wanted to answer this#and it ended up being a LONG rambling#it couldve been a shitposty one but no 😭#also this might be the first time i brain dumped about jamil???#i’m 🧍🧍🧍
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i think honestly what irritates me about yoshidas work SO much is that people will tell you that banana fish is THE gay manga (ignoring the many things that came before it and were more groundbreaking, ie MW literally having on screen (or like. on panel but still.) gay sex in it and that came out like a decade before BF did) when there really isn't barely any gay rep outside of the pedophiles and the one time ash drops the f slur. like im sorry but somehow yasha, a work she wrote in 1996, has more gay rep in it but also has the same issues.
i truly do not get how people can enjoy banana fish with the rampant racism every 2 pages or the rampant sexual assault plotlines (on women and ash bc he is just... written like how yoshida writes women lmao) that are handled IMPOSSIBLY bad and sincerely i hoped yasha would be better because it had been like a decade or so between works. and then it proceeds to continue with the heres our blonde genius protagonist who everyone is weird as fuck to and will sexually harrass and everyone finds it a VERY funny joke to point out how feminine he is when theres barely any women in the work (if you exclude the ones that are being raped/killed/creepy to minors. which to be fair yasha has toned down the sa a LOT) and that its funny that hes kind of gay except not really!! and its just absurd to me how it just persists in all of her stuff because she is not an author that handles gay stuff well. like the scene in banana fish where ash is completely ok getting gang raped and did it solely to get into the hospital when its been SHOWN that he has a lot of trauma with that. and then right after his friend makes a joke at ash's expense about that. like sincerely and genuinely is this what we are hyping up as the old retro gay manga. go read some tezuka and stop reading shit that the most the main characters do is share a kiss in a nonromantic sense and is obsessed w making every gay person be evil!!
#twist rambles#sorry mw u will always be famous to me (horrible fucking manga to experience for like 50% of the time but also it rocksss and theres#about anything tw worthy in there but i wish more ppl did read it)#sorry im like. i like to read her stuff bc her art is interesting to me but oh my god it makes me so angryyyy#rape mention#ask to tag#like... you do not understand my one sided rivalry w her it is SO intense like... bf was one of the worst reading experiences ive ever had#my tzk gay recs are: black jack (protag literally has a transmasc ex bf) and mw (for aforementioned reasons but its like. genuinely bonkers#and honestly there r a lot of minor characters that r lgbt in his works and like. can we please read smth that doesnt suck 100% of the time#like idk god bf is so baffling to me bc theres NOTHING there other than like. the new horrors every chapter. and yasha seems to be reusing#some plot points so it double sucks. haunted by the one analysis showing how the two had similar themes and point 1 was literally child#exploitation like... man. god it sucks. like not that mw is perfect bc its not and its a media i have a lot of thoughts on but man. id take#that over bf anyday bc like... sincerely how is anyone looking past the horrors there!! the story is a jumbled mess and it rly doesnt have#much to sayyyy but whatever lol!! id love if the characters were in a better media id love if ash didnt end the story feeling positively#towards the man who groomed him but whateverrrr lol#this is super disorganized as a post but like. genuinely it is so infuriating bc some of the plot concepts in yasha have potential and then#she keeps doing this like!!
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Happy Shun Duel Links Day!!! (party popper emoji)
#yugioh arc v#yugioh arc-v#arc-v#shun#yuto#comic#duel links#sorry for the long format but OOH it looks so clean when its all in one line!!!#this almost didn't make it out of my wip jail cells because i spent 30 mins on one of the panels#using references and everything but it just looked super duper odd and it was a waste of time overall#and don't even get me started on the toning (clenches fist) nothing was looking right at one point#but enough about the process i want to talk about the comic itself#part of the motivation for drawing this was seeing all the fluffy shunyoot celebration pics during his roaming event#they ARE cute but also i really really wanted so badly to see shun's visceral reaction that didn't reduce him to mere comedic fodder#(something i'm also guilty of)#so anyway like we always say in ygos we make our own food#wow im rambling anyways the last line of dialogue i had most trouble with but also the most proud of#no shade to the writers of the show (ok maybe like a LITTLE shade) but with this comic i really wanted to reflect the feelings of both#fans of the show as well as fans that left after the ending because that was something i saw floating on jp twitter during the roaming even#and it really made me Think#also can we talk about how in the event yuya was just like hey shun i have a surprise for you!!! haha :]#he was THERE when shun said never appear in front of me ever again did he think shun would just be omg yuto :)#this is why youre my favourite (yuya)#anyways last but not least#the final yuto panel is a healthy mix of guilt + existential dread and doubt about his own existence i hope that was obvious enough
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Hate thissss I feel like I haven't been properly productive today (somehow posting two art things Doesn't register properly in my mind) so I wanna stay up to get as much as I can down, but I also need to go to sleep in case I'm called in tomorrow because fuuuuuck going to work on little sleep that shit sucks. But also, the possibility of being called in makes me wanna stay up even more, so I can finish art in case I don't have time tomorrow. So now I'm sat up at 12:30 tired as shit but unable to draw or go to bed. The never-ending cycle of hell.
#ramblings#i wish they had someone else to call in on short notice. i dont hate coming in extra but i hate getting a text at like 7:10 when kennel#hours in the morning start 7:30. i knowww i should probably set a boundary but like. fuck#and you know what i wish my parents bothered to fucking understand how frustrating it is being called in so frequently#my mom specifically. i bring stuff with work up and its like a broken record. `if you go in all the time youll be seen as reliable!`#when i was talking about getting a day off to see my brothers marching last weekend she was like#`see what did i tell you? you make yourself reliable and theyll let you take off what you need` talking like i just asked for it off#after it had already been scheduled. girl i had to ask people to cover me still. i just#i hate it. i havent told her i told them i didnt wanna work clinic hours because she'd drill me about why#its just frustrating !! and when i say my genuine feelings its like she needs to correct me. like im thinking wrong.#this is why i had to fucking snap before setting the boundary of not covering clinic hours. because its always#`do what they ask every time because youll seem reliable` from my mom no matter fucking what. and then i already have issues#setting boundaries in general because i dont want to upset others or make them mad at me#ok sorry this has turned into. a wholeass vent. im just. at my wits end can you tell?#at this rate im really just getting nothing done. im going to bed#dont worry about me ill be fine. i just need to let it out and this is kinda my only outlet rn
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haikaveh... save me haikaveh...
i KNOW it's been talked about to death but. the haikaveh research project. it literally haunts my mind. i cannot get over the implications. alhaitham going through his school life as someone that most people dont even really know about because he keeps to himself and doesn't socialize, with kaveh being the one exception to that, finding his way into his life as his Best Friend, and then leading to alhaithams one and only time he participated in a research topic. his bio says he only ever did ONE joint project!!! one!!! the one with kaveh his best friend and i think also his only friend at the time!!!! and then it ended in not only the project falling apart but also alhaithams only friendship. kavehs best friendship. they were each others closest person. they had no family around - alhaithams parents having died when he was young and his grandmother dying before he joined the akademiya, and kaveh's dad dying when he was young and his mom having moved to fontaine. like even if you dont look at it through a romantic lens it's still undeniable how important they were [and are] to each other..........
i'm getting off track but my point is very specifically for alhaitham, the one time he got close to someone, made a friend, even agreed to join one(1) group project ever, it ended in disaster. it led him into a fight so bad that his one and only friend said he regretted that friendship!!!! it was so bad alhaitham left the project and he and kaveh didnt speak for ages until they just happened to run into each other again at the tavern!!!!! like obviously it has to be incredibly awful for both of them but i just think how this probably had alhaitham in the cynical mindset that friendships and collaborations like that might just never work out for him because the one time he let someone into his life, it blew up on him and he was all alone again. even though alhaitham never seems to care much if people dont like him, that clearly cant still apply to someone he was exceptionally close to. like if he didnt care he woudlnt have been the one to take his name off the project and mutually not speak to kaveh...... kavehs words are the ones that hit the most significantly to alhaitham.......... kaveh is said/implied to have had at least some other friends while at school / people knew who he was, but not so much alhaitham. people didnt know him and the ones that did just knew he didnt socialize/he was not easy to get along with. he only had kaveh and then, for a while, he lost him too!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
#the number of times i have reread alhaitham character story 4 and kaveh character story 5. like. dont look at me. kfjsdklfh#on one hand im tempted to think alhaitham would have a fully cynical view of friendship#and be like USELESS NEVER AMOUNTS TO ANYTHING but. i kinda dont think he works like that#well i dont think he would think that either way now but#even in times of friendship breaking up w/kaveh like#alhaitham is very FACTS AND LOGIC and i feel like he would still like#idk. understand the objective value of human companionship. whether or not he feels it works for him#HOWEVER. jkdlhfsd he is also the one who in his other lore bits was like 'grandmother the other children are boring at school'#AT AGE SEVEN god he was probably such an unintentionally funny child. i love u alhaitham u are so neurodivergently coded#so idk i feel like he would have a period where hes like okay. i was alone before and clearly that was the right call bc my 1 friend is gon#even if he does well alone i cant even imagine like. kaveh mustve been a huge impact and difference in alhaithams life#humans need SOME level of socialization!! and kaveh was his.... aughhh god they literally also read as having a bad breakup!!!!!#queer coded TO ME!!!!!! friends to rivals/friends to lovers to enemies to it's complicated..................#but again even if u dont think of it in a romantic sense like it's still so much. they were and are so significant to each other.#their bond is so complex and oughghdhgh they make me go bonkers#i do not think of any other 2 genshin characters so intensely as i do them .what have they done to me. what the fuck.#im alone in my stupid little genshin pit endlessly babbling about these motherfuckers!!!!!!!#and i love them. also i like that one scene in i think cynos 2nd character quest where al and kav r in the library or w/e#and kavehs like wtf no way u dont small talk w/coworkers. and alhaithams like no i just happen 2 hear people but i do not engage#hes so real he likes to eavesdrop but he does NOT want to get involved!!!!!!!!!!!!#also that same scene where kaveh goes 'WTF looking thru these will take FOREVER!!!!' alhaitham: 'ill manage'#kaveh: >:( FINE ILL HELP YOU!!!! like ok he did not ask. silly.#and alhaitham teasing him right after all that. 'teach me to pretend u werent listening' '...' '...' '...' '...HEY STOP IGNORING ME' 'see.'#theyre so goofy. kaveh u walked right into that one. ily.#i love when i talk about characters and it's literally just me going 'wow remember when character x said this. remember when he did that.'#i just love repeating scenes and dialogue and lore over and over and over and offering nothing new to say about it JKFLDSHKLFH#sorry i love them SO much and im bad at drawing and bad at fanfic so i just have to ramble in text posts forever#i do have. a fanfic outlined for them. i am just scared to write it#nothing crazy deep or whatever but yknow. im in a bit of a Funk Right Now dont worry about it#i need a constant stream of alhaitham and kaveh content constantly injected directly into my brain.
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i hate that im embarrassed seeing my own art because otherwise id be playing my kris dressup game 😞
#I MISS HIM... AGAIN .......#honestly we kris girlies have it ok rn considering we saw him like two weeks ago? with the photoshoot .... i feel for everyone else 🫂🫂#sorry if ive ever been weird about my art its because the mpment i post it i want it out of my sight .... same goes for fanfics ......#vee rambles#this post is nothing im about to go to a doctors appointment and im bored thats it
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#dont mind me just havin a conversation about rpgs and mods (specifically BG3)#and the person says they don't like mods and im like thats fine! nothing wrong with that!#and then they just go off “Mods are delusions and lies and deception!! its not real!!”#like ummm idk how to break this to ya buddy but uhh#the entire video game is not real lmao#they seem weirdly attached to the idea that the creator's vision is law and anything remotely changing any detail is blasphemy#nevermind all the things Larian themselves have retconned and moved around lol#the studios themselves dont know what their own canon is sometimes#in TES Kahjiit look different in each game#the elves are drastically different between each Divinity game#idk this is just a super bizarre conversation and ngl it threw me for a loop lmao#“mods are an illusion” feels like a meme#like i get that in spirit they mean that mods can hurt the integrity of a game and oossibly change the original vision#or go against established lore#but at the same time like....who cares? the creators aren't going to be offended and block you from playing the game because ur using mods#sorry im rambling but im just so darn confused#this is a hot take i wasn't prepared to catch#like show me where the video game mods have personally attacked you lmao#and YES if youve made it this far into the tags i will tell you#this was a conversation with an anti aa person on the aa kiss mod#theyre mad because it just “supports a delusion” and “ruins the story Larian is telling”#cause ya know ...the Tav expressions are meant to godmod players so that we know AA is abusive!#it was just all very patronizing#theye like “nothing wrong with using this mod if it makes you happy!! but hust remember that its NOT real and not canon!!”#imagine being so bitter you have to comment on things not for you just to bring down morale of those who enjoy it#and you do it with a take that isnt even correct lmao
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so did u guys like the new chapter or....????
#like no one ever says anything so i have no idea#then i don't know when to update bc no one says anything#i know that engagement has been the most infuriating thing about this fic#idk if it's just happening with me that people never leave comments or if it's just a universal fic thing#but it's genuinely so discouraging and the WORST feeling#it sucks so bad to put so much work into something and then hear absolutely nothing from readers#sorry im just rambling in the tags now im just going through some shit irl too and feel like absolute garbage
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god michael is such a jerk in fnaf 4 im never getting over it
he pisses me off so much its the only fnaf game with a character i cannot STAND
and i like michael, hes one of my favs but my god... fnaf 4 michael...
but at the same time i always feel so bad for him. his dad was shitty, his sister died horribly, and his brother was gruesomely injured in front of him BECAUSE OF HIS STUPID ACTIONS and then died after.
like he carried that guilt for so long
ill never be as upset abt his life as i am about evans
but it still just... ue... i love u michael afton even if ur an asshole
#sorry im reading a fic#ueue#that whole “im sorry” scene in fnaf 4 makes me so sad#i think this is why i hate villain arc evan??#like theres nothing wrong with disliking or villainizing mike#but i dont think he needs another thing telling him how fucking horrible he is. he knows. he feels like shit.#and i dont think evan feels that way abt him??#like yeah evan wouldnt like him#but he never was aggressive or bitter towards mike#he was just sad#fnaf#michael afton#evan afton#im sorry for being ill about michael afton it will happen again#im just??? so???#rambling in the tags so sorry#tzu rambles
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For whoever cares I still have quite some poems that i havent shared yet but the process of making it a tumblr post is for some reason very draining so bear with me i think I'll be ok soon enough but for now consider this me taking a break hahah
#i have the urge to say sorry but like i have nothing to be sorry for?? but like it feels like im disappointing people haha#anyway masters of fate chapter two is out so go check that out:)#yes i will use every opportunity to talk about this fic#ramble gamble
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i took a break from kinktober writing to crochet a sweater (my first wearable project, im very excited) and i'm listening to the throne of glass audiobook while i do it (IT'S REALLY GOOD IM ANNOYED I DIDNT START ON THE SERIES SOONER??????)
BUT all this to say, i got the idea to - if this sweater goes well - make a velaris sweater :') with ramiel on it :') it's already a thing i know but ive wanted one since the first time i saw one on tiktok but i dont wanna buy clothes on tiktok bc im worried about wearing anything THAT cheap bc i have sensitive skin, and theyre WAY expensive on etsy, so i will make my own :D
#this has nothing to do with writing#sorry yall#i just had to tell someone#and no one ik irl likes acotar or crochets so like#yall get to deal with my ramblings about it#anyway kinktober days 1-17 are done#im sweating idk how im balancing everything rn#no sleep and hanging on by a thread?#5 classes this semester; 20+ hours a week at the lab; OVERSEEING INCOMPETENT PEOPLE AT LAB; PERSONAL EMOTIONAL TURMOIL#crocheting; writing; and somehow still managing to clean and cook and eat and shower and skincare and GOD#i know a lot of this is like...... normal stuff a person needs to do every day but like#im medicated girls.... and the wellbutrin is not wellbutrining rn#has not been for like weeks now#maybe i need to talk to my psychiatrist........#yikes oversharing now gonna go#i was gonna write but i simply do not feel like it#i am going to make my sweater and listen to tog thank you#this has been my daily pop in with you guys
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Since you mentioned it, what did you think of Speak No Evil? I was thinking of watching it myself :0
i really liked it ............ my friend scoffed at me when i told her i was watchin it so take my opinion with a grain of salt tho </3
#snap chats#SHE DIDNT EVEN WATCH IT BUT W/E SPOILER FREE QUICK REVIEW DOWN HERE HIIII <3<3<3<3#ive been made aware my tastes are. Questionable so proceed with caution vlklvjv im so sorry if i convince you to see it and you dont like i#moving on I Have. done nothing but listen to Eternal Flame for the past week its been stuck in my head ever since#BUT FR as i said I Really Liked It. i heard that theres another/original version so i wanna watch that at some point#if i care to remember and find it vjaelkjeakl but as This Movie On Its Own i had a swell time !!!#it does a really good job of teetering that line of#'this is just a quaint little sometimes-awkward get-together' and 'this is so stressful i just might throw up'#it did a good job of keeping me invested and on my toes i guess- it bitters innocuous scenarios really well which i like#like i wasnt sure WHEN whatever scene i was watching would turn sour but i always had that feeling it /would/- that lingering feeling#the horror in this is more psychological than violent- it only gets crazy by the last quarter honestly#which isnt bad! i like psych horror and Christ. the amount of times i was just grimacing in my seat like Suspense Is The Word#like imagine a dinner party where people only say controversial things and you dont want to blow up the situation#so you just try to be really polite about pivoting from the topic. but they keep going. thats basically the horror of this movie at its cor#i do have SOME comments about some bits but i wanna rewatch the movie at some point to be thorough on my comments jglejlakj#yk do a rewatch where im. NOT jokin bout with my brother- THO TBF DESPITE THAT I was still invested#like its premise is so. simple? in concept imo. but 'simple' isnt automatically bad in my eyes and i really liked how it played out#i dont watch movies much tho so maybe its been done different but there is ONE thing tht definitely made me like. HUH#but its nothing super major i dont htink? I MEAN IT WAS KINDA BIG BUT there were signs to it being revealed. still it made me vjLJ like god#i cant explain tho cause SPOILERS but ... Yeah. its not that crazy it just definitely took me by surprise for how quick the reveal was#tldr: if you ever wanted to watch an awkward dinner party where you couldnt do anything about it this is the movie to watch#and i like that. i like that because i hate myself apparently jVLAEKJVAEKLJ#coupled with horror it was also funny at times which i felt did help with that underlying 'when will this be tainted' horror#i really liked that ... when normalcy or the feeling of safety can be taken away in an instant#if you watch it and wanna talk bout it more in depth ill prob have rewatched it by then and id like to give a more. Detailed review#OR AT LEAST ONE NOT SO RAMBLY VELKAVJEALKJ im not good at reviewing things .... i just know when i like or dont like somethin ..#ive only had my bro to talk bout this with and he doesnt really. Give his thoughts or opinions too much like i do#so id be happy to talk bout it and get your perspective !!!! but only if you want Again if you dont like it im so sorry erlakjaekl#god theres so much more i want to say but im just rambling and i wanna be brief for you my friend vlakjlakvlkj#anyway yeah. those are my quick thoughts. i was Very Normal about james mcavoy for most of this movie ty for reading
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im so happy i have all the people who love me in my life
#camera talks#and i get to love them back#thats yall btw.#idk how much more i can express it. easy going mundane conversations feel the best with you guys#even more emotional or serious ones i wouldnt want to have them with anyone else#and i save basically every time one of yall says something nice to me in the tags because bad emotional permance is real#and i want to remember that yall are so nice and kind and care so so much#like i know ive been kinda jokey about it but all my friends saying how much they enjoy my presence on here recently has made me so happy#nothing happened i just feel really content in an uncommon way for me right now#sending and receiving messages and talking about my ocs and like.#getting to knowing people is so beautiful and im so glad i get to do it with yall#long story short i love you#sorry for the ramble lol#camera loves
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