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stupidlittlespirit · 12 days ago

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Rating: SFW (later chapters will be NSFW) Type: Long form, multi-chapter, Stanford Pines x Reader Tags: Mutual pining, no pronouns used, teasing, a special appearance from Stan, mentions of the kids, housekeeper!Reader, tw: my horrible jokes. Word count: 5,729 My other works: here on tumblr and here on Ao3! Ch.2 here

In which a simple expedition with Ford goes increasingly sideways and you learn more than enough about thermodynamics to last you a lifetime.

A/N: This has been quite an undertaking to produce. I created this fic as somewhat of a universe in which base a number of my post-portal!Ford one-shots etc in, and that meant I had to lay a lot of groundwork in it. I wanted to have a setting where I didn't need to keep giving background on what the Reader's role is and how/why they feel a certain way in every fic, and to also offer a kind of timeline that could be explored through future works. Because of that, in this fic there will be vague allusions to some small events happening to set us up for the current day and if people are interested in reading more about those events in full detail then I'd really love to explore them properly with you guys.

Just as an aside - Reader will mention they don't have a father in a throwaway line. It can be taken as just a joke or as literal. Up to you.

Anyway, most of this fic is already completed and I'll be posting a new chapter every couple of days or so. You can wait to read it all in one go or enjoy it in chapters. There will be roughly 5 in total. Enjoy!

Sometimes, in life, things align so perfectly that a person can't stop themselves from considering the possibility of cosmic interference.

Deities. The universe. Some other unseen, all powerful entity of murky origin. All of their existences seem far more plausible when events in one's life fall effortlessly into place and line up to give them the exact thing they've always wanted.

Today is one of those days.

You're busy chopping onions when the planets orient themselves for you.

The broad kitchen knife in your hand knocks rhythmically against the oak board underneath it with every slice you make and the little ribbons of milk-white flesh stack neatly between blade and vegetable, but your attention is, quite irresponsibly, elsewhere.

You really ought to be keeping track of your fingers but you're far too preoccupied with gazing out of the bay window in front of you to really care all that much. The thing is huge; its frame is rimmed with rich mahogany and it has one broad, square pane sitting in the centre, beset by two more, slimmer, rectangular pieces. It drinks in the waning daylight outside and on sunnier evenings, the pretty little stained panels that skirt the tops of each one glow a rich blue, showing off the depictions of constellations inside, like someone has captured part of the night sky and trapped it within the glass for their own private amusement.

Today, the clouds block the sun and the cerulean glass is dull, but you don’t mind too much. You’re not making use of the window to admire the art, lovely as it may be. You’re far more focused on what’s taking place on the lawn, beyond the bounds of the warm interior of the house.

Out on the well-kept grass, two figures are vigorously working out. Well, one is. The other looks like he’d rather keel over and die than spend another second out there, but he’s doing his best all the same and that’s what matters, you suppose.

Steam rises from Ford’s figure as he pauses in his work to help his nephew grip a mid-sized dumbbell correctly. It curls off and around his body like smoke, rising from its sweaty source and wafting into the unseasonably cool air. His cheeks are pink, likely both from exertion and the chill in the weather, and the colour blooms all the way across his face, stretching far enough to even tickle the tips of his ears.

He looks gorgeous.

Dressed in all-black, he’s wearing a short sleeve t-shirt and sweats, paired with dirty blue trainers. Where the skin of his throat and arms should be exposed, however, they’re instead wrapped up tight in what you presume to be some kind of fancy thermal shirt. You’ve never seen him wear anything that shows off his skin, yet somehow the way it clings to the curves of his biceps and forearms is even more revealing than seeing them bare.

Granted, this isn't the first time you've spied on one of his workout sessions like this (in almost exactly the same way), but every time he shows up, it feels like you've been blessed by the Heavens.

Ford, for what it’s worth, hasn’t noticed anything untoward. Not as far as you’re aware, anyway. He’s usually too lost in whatever he’s doing to pay you much mind and if he does catch your presence in the window, you’re always quick to make yourself look busy.

Ford works out four times a week, like clockwork, on the front lawn of the house he shares with his brother. He doesn't always have his nephew with him (Dipper clearly only ever wants to do his best for his great-uncle, however exercise is hardly the kid's forte and you can't say you blame him), which means that oftentimes you get the absolute pleasure of observing a clueless Ford lift weights and stretch his quads for sixty minutes whilst you break from your other chores to prepare them all dinner.

You've been working for the Pines’ for the better part of a year now and getting hired had been a complete accident:

Upon moving to Gravity Falls eighteen months ago and landing the first job you had come across in the local paper (an underpaid, exhausting waitressing gig at the local diner) you’d run into the kids one afternoon on a rare day off.

Mabel had almost smashed your ankle to bits after she and her brother had lost control of their overstuffed trolley and once they had finished their litany of apologies, you’d taken note of the cart’s contents: primarily filled with sugar riddled snacks and items with so little nutritional value that you’d been astounded they’d been legal to sell, neither one of the kids appeared to know how they were going to lug all their so-called food home or what they were going to make for dinner.

Without much else to do, you’d volunteered to lend a hand. They had explained their task: “Grunkle Stan says his back hurts too much to waste time in the store these days and he promised that if we helped, he’d make Grunkle Ford teach us how to drive so we can do it even faster!” Mabel had enthusiastically informed you, eyes bright and metaphorical tail bushy, and despite your confusion over the concept of a ‘Grunkle’, the idea of two apparently-just-turned fourteen year olds at the wheel had been less than thrilling.

Some gentle sweet talking had convinced them to swap out some of their items for things a little more suitable and you’d carried their bags back on a short walk to the house where you’d met the infamous Stan lounging on its porch, his feet up on some empty crates.

At Mabel’s excited introduction of you and her retelling of your recipe ideas, Stan had given you a once over before he’d asked how you felt about replacing the kids as dinner gofer. As it turned out, sending two hyperactive children out to get groceries every week had apparently (shockingly) not been working out too well for the older brothers, and one offer of help had turned into several paid offers.

After only a few short weeks of assisting them, you’d been offered a full time position as housekeeper. The decision to take them up on it had been easy; waitressing barely covered the bills for your decrepit little cabin on the outskirts of town and spending hours every day walking the same five metre route to and from the kitchen six days a week was monotonous enough that you’d been considering moving on anyway.

You’d jumped at the chance.

Technically, your job here is to help with the household tasks that Stan is too lazy to do and that Ford is too busy researching or gallivanting around in the forest to take on, but more often than not, you’re stuck doing whatever little thing Stan thinks up so that he can, as he puts it: ‘enjoy his retirement, sweetheart’. The work extends to any little chore they might need help with, and when the kids head home for summer and Ford and Stan set sail for a few months again, it falls to you to keep the place standing until they return.

Hence why you’re slaving away in their roomy kitchen this evening, gazing out at Ford like you’re some kind of yearning protagonist in a classic romance novel and turning over several thoughts in your mind that you’re sure would get you fired if you revealed them in detail to anyone else. You exhale softly as you watch him show Dipper how to correctly pull off a bicep curl, his arm flexing beneath his shirt.

Behind you, at the dinner table, Stan pauses where he's rustling through his daily newspaper at a leisurely pace and his chair creaks as he shifts in it. “Keep sighing like that and you’ll fog the windows up before he’s finished.”

You start, having completely forgotten his presence, and narrowly you swerve the kitchen knife to avoid chopping off the tip of your index finger. “Jesus, Stan!” you huff. “I almost cut my hand off! They should put a bell on you.”

Stan laughs under his breath. “Oh, they’ve tried, trust me,” he mutters darkly. “Besides, that’s what you get for not paying attention.”

“I am paying attention,” you lie. “I was just…. Thinking.”

“About what?” Stan asks, in a way that suggests he already knows. He probably does.

Stan is the only other person besides yourself who’s aware of your affection for Ford.

The crush had started small, blossoming slowly over time into something more significant, and Stan had worked it out before you’d even caught it yourself.

For all his faults, the guy is as perceptive as they come and admittedly, he’s a lot of fun in his own right. He’s cantankerous and rough around the edges, and yet he’s got a heart of gold that he hides deep underneath his gaudy chains and string vests. At first, he’d been grumpy and standoffish about your presence, despite being the one to hire you in the first place, but as time has gone by and you’ve proven yourself to be competent at both the work and at giving as good you get, he’s dropped his guard and dragged you into his jokes and games.

Although he’s less than thrilled about your private sentiments towards his brother, he's charming in his own special way and he only ever uses it to rag on you when he’s feeling mean. To the best of your knowledge, he hasn’t said a word to anyone else about it. Stan is an ass, but he’s not cruel.

And while you’re not going to divulge your most intimate thoughts to him, you’ll always rise to a little back and forth with him. He seems to enjoy having a verbal sparring partner.

“How old did you say your brother was again?” You ask with feigned innocence, glancing over your shoulder at him.

“What?” Stan grunts, folding the top of his paper down enough to glower at you over it.

“I said, remind me how old your brother is again,” you repeat, turning your attention back to watching Ford lean down to stretch his hamstrings again. It looks like he’s cooling down for the day now which means he’ll be doing static stretches for the next ten minutes, and every time he does so you’re treated to a wonderful view of his ass.

“Same age as me,” Stan says, and at your silence he tacks on: “We’re twins,” like you’re an idiot.

“So….?”

“He’s sixty-two, genius.”

“Huh,” you mutter quietly. “Interesting….”

It's hard to remember when Ford is so agile and active, and for all your interest in him, you've never actually asked his age. Sixty-two is perfectly doable though, in every conceivable sense of the word…..

Stan rustles his paper again. “If you’re thinkin’ about what I think you’re thinkin’ about, and I know you are, don’t even think about it.”

You snort. He has such a way with words.

"I told you last time, stay away from him. He's...." Stan pauses, as though he intends to say something else but thinks better of it. "He's old enough to be your father."

“I don’t have a father,” you say absentmindedly.

It’s Stan’s turn to snort now. “Y’know, that makes a lot of sense, actually.”

You tear your gaze away from Ford’s routine to flip Stan the bird, sticking your tongue out for good measure before you reach for the glass mixing bowl to your right. Now that your evening matinee is ending, you really ought to get a move on with dinner.

“Anyway, I didn’t hire you to gawp at my brother like he’s a piece of meat on the discount shelf,” Stan grouches. “You’re s’posed to be cooking.”

“I'm not gawping, I just happen to be facing the same way that he's doing all his stuff in,” you say defensively, before adding in a muttered: “Besides, he definitely wouldn’t be on the discount shelf.”

“Uh huh,” Stan says, clearly not believing a word.

Rather than defend your actions, you focus on your work: Tonight's dinner is wild mushroom pie. You've only made it once before but it's nice and filling, and you're supposed to be helping everyone eat better. Bad diets run in the family apparently (although where Ford is concerned, he just as often skips meals altogether some days) and so far, they've all been amenable to trying something new. The kids had been reluctant to test out vegetables at first but after a few valiant efforts to make them as palatable as possible they'd come round.

A lot of the work is already done; a pot of stock is simmering away on the hob, the onions from earlier are ready to be tossed into the slowly-warming frying pan and a red, ceramic pie dish is neatly lined with pastry and ready to go whenever you need it. For now, the next task is to prepare the star ingredient: Wild mushrooms.

You’ll be the first to admit, quite happily, that you're not the most outdoorsy of people and you're going to cheat a little bit on the ‘wild’ requirements. You'd picked up a packet of the things last weekend at the supermarket with the intention of doing one thing or another with them, and it does say on the label that they're wild, so you'll let yourself off on that one. Although, knowing Gravity Falls you're really hoping that ‘wild’ isn't a play on words and they turn out to be some kind of feral man-eating fungi. You're not in the mood to be hunted down by a hungry creature today.

Leaving your pots and pans to simmer, you check in the pantry for the little box only to come up empty handed. There's no sign of it anywhere in there, not even when you rummage around right at the back, and you call out to Stan in confusion: “Have you seen the mushrooms I brought back last week?”

“The ones in the brown container?” Stan asks.

“Yeah….”

“Mabel fed ‘em to Waddles last night,” he says, and when you stick your head around the pantry door to stare at him in disbelief, he shrugs without looking up. “What was I supposed to do, tell her no?”

You know what he means; She’s upstairs right now giving the damn pig a manicure makeover with your old (and apparently animal safe) nail polishes because you hadn’t had it in you to deny her them when she’d been upset about her own limited supplies.

It’s extraordinarily hard to refuse Mabel anything and you can appreciate the difficulty, but still.

“Stan, I told you what I was planning to cook tonight!” You groan, kicking the pantry door shut. “How am I supposed to make a mushroom pie with no mushrooms?”

You can’t exactly nip to the store today either. Every single shop in town is shut. The news this morning had warned of a major storm blowing in and informed everyone that they best stay at home lest they keep an inflatable raft in their back pocket, and no one sells those outdated things anymore. Too many accidental indoor deployments, apparently.

According to Ford, this place is susceptible to irrational weather spells and the increasingly aggressive changes in pressure and temperature that have spawned with global warming have only made them more volatile. Last summer there had been a spate of hailstorms that had puked up football-sized pieces of ice and smashed the windscreen of your car to pieces. You’re still sore about that one….

“What am I supposed to do?” You lament, sparing a miserable glance at the half-done recipe on the stove.

From behind you, a deep voice makes you jump: “Is something wrong?”

You almost leap out of your skin, swivelling on the spot to find the source hovering in the doorway of the kitchen.

Both brothers have the ability to be supernaturally quiet when they want to be. While Stan uses his subtlety less often, Ford skulks around like a well practised alley cat a lot of the time and he frequently scares the shit out of you. He must have finished his routine and crept back inside unannounced.

He gives you an apologetic smile, holding one hand up to ease your fear. “Apologies,” he laughs under his breath. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Ford is still dressed in his workout clothes, his thick, wavy hair roguishly dishevelled and slightly damp at the temples, and he looks just as lovely up close as he had done from the window. Perhaps even lovelier.

You swallow thickly, your brain short circuiting at the sight of him. “Uh, yes?” You say, though it's more of a question than an answer.

Ford looks at you expectantly, evidently waiting for you to expand on your problem, and Stan smirks at your lack of grace.

You shake your head minutely, desperately pulling yourself together and hoping he'll assume your speechless state is just because he's made you jump and not because your heart is climbing up your throat.

“I'm making pie,” you say, jerking your thumb over at the pots. “And someone,” You pause to fix Stan with an annoyed look and he rolls his eyes. “Let Mabel feed them all to Waddles, and…. I don’t have a back up plan.”

You feel a little stupid admitting it aloud.

Ford hums thoughtfully, heavy brows creasing together as he leans against the doorframe.

“That's quite the conundrum….” He says, frowning at the flagstone tiles under your feet.

His dark eyes flicker back and forth quickly, and you can tell he's trying to think up a solution.

After a long pause, he snaps his fingers and speaks up again: “You know, I did stumble across a nice little patch of mushrooms not far from here about a month ago. We could take a walk up there and grab some, if you'd like?”

“In the forest?” You ask, brows raised.

“Where else?” Ford grins, and you feel your stomach fill with butterflies. “They're edible, of course, I've tested them myself.”

“Are you telling me you ate random mushrooms you found on the ground, Doctor Pines?” You ask, mildly appalled. “They could have killed you.”

Ford waves a hand dismissively. “Unlikely. My travels have given me something of an iron stomach. It takes more than a Death Cap to put me down these days.”

At the mention of ‘travels’, you perk up a bit.

Ford's history is more than a little murky to you. In the time you’ve been working for the family, you’ve only heard second-hand snippets or passing mentions of his alleged escapades. The kids have let slip to you several times about his adventures and, despite initially assuming they'd been making things up for fun, the stories had eventually begun to seem a little too consistent to simply be make-believe.

One evening, when the kids had been safely tucked up in bed and Ford had been locked away in his study, you’d brought the subject up to Stan over a nightcap on the porch.

Stan had sighed, lit a cigar, and sworn you to secrecy before giving you a rough outline of his brother’s complex background: his outstandingly impressive academic history, their less-than-ideal family rift and some kind of accident that had sent Ford careening into, quite literally, another dimension. Stan hadn’t gone into excessive detail, and you hadn’t pushed despite desperately wanting to, but by his own admission he had felt that if you were to be working around them then you’d be better off at least having some idea of their strange history.

And strange it is.

You yourself have only lived in Gravity Falls for the better part of eighteen months and becoming accustomed to the weirdness of this place has been unusually easy. Residents take the bizarre in such casual stride that you’re more likely to stick out should you make a fuss about it all and after a while, seeing the odd oddity around had quickly become the norm.

At Stan’s vague reveal of his brother’s disappearance and, as everyone else calls them, his travels, the notion had been surprisingly easy to fathom in the context of such an already weird place. Utterly incredible, yet somehow very in line with this town.

Ford has never brought it up to you himself beyond a rare, fleeting mention, but you’re aware that he’s apparently spent significant time in places that other people might only dream of.

You’re sure he knows of your vague awareness but you know better than to poke around in other people’s sore wounds without permission.

Stan had warned that neither he nor his brother were predisposed to telling everyone and anyone about his time away and you can’t really blame them. From what you know (and can imagine), it can’t have been all fun and games.

“I think he’s got, like, PTSD or somethin’,” Stan had said that night, sounding genuinely heartbroken about it. “So don’t go sniffing around him, alright? He’s…. It’s difficult. Everyone’s been through a lot. Maybe we’ll tell you about it properly one day.”

You understand, of course. Whatever has gone on in their lives is clearly significant and you’re still an outsider. A year is no time at all in the grand scheme of things and they’re a tightly-knit, protective family. They’ve no reason to fill you in on their traumatic family history just because you help around the house and you’ve no right to know it, but you’re willing to earn their trust and if the stories come with it, then so be it.

Although slow to start, things have been going well so far and you’re closer than ever with them, so every titbit Ford drops has you on tenterhooks immediately.

“Besides,” Ford says, still on the subject of his thrilling mushroom discoveries, “their lack of toxicity isn’t even the most exciting part!” He adjusts his glasses and you can tell he's gearing up into scientist-mode.

Behind you, Stan sighs, long-suffering.

“I thought they tasted significantly more intense than a regular mushroom, so once I’d confirmed that they were safe for general human consumption, I asked Dipper to try them. He reported them to be, in his words, 'beefy'. Now, Umami is the most commonly associated flavour with regard to mushrooms because of naturally occurring glutamate, but monosodium glutamate, which would deepen the flavour even more and fall in line with mine and Dipper's taste tests, isn't, and I doubt the gnomes are out there spraying crops with MSG. They haven't the tools for that, I've checked. Anyway, I asked Mabel to try them and she said they tasted, quote, ‘like chocolate stirred by puppies and angels’,”

Here, Ford pauses to laugh fondly before he goes on:

“Which is most certainly not a common flavour of mushroom. So my hypothesis is that they change taste based on whoever touches them and I've been meaning to test them again, seeing as we ate the first batch before I could record the findings properly. We'd be killing two birds with one stone, really.”

You have to fight back a smile. The way he lights up when he talks about his stupid fucking mushrooms is beyond cute and you always enjoy watching him get passionate about his projects, especially when he veers off course on silly tangents that he deems relevant.

But Ford has never asked you to accompany him before which makes this event all the more alluring. It's a privilege to be invited along and as much as you want to jump at the chance, you do have one worry:

“What about the storm?”

At the table, Stan pushes his chair back with a screech and stands up. “Exactly. TV said it's gonna be a bad one and I'm not paying for another newspaper ad if you kill our housekeeper just because you wanna show off again.”

Ford sputters. “I'm not showing off, Stanley! This is about science!”

It should be worrying that his main concern is his pride over your potential death-by-negligence, but the way the top of his ears turn red at his brother's accusation overrules your concern. He's disgustingly adorable when he gets embarrassed.

Dipper chooses that exact moment to trot past his great uncle's side and into the kitchen, giving you a bright, exhausted smile. He’s shed his workout gear for a t-shirt and a fresh pair of sweats, and his hair is slightly damp. “Dinner smells good,” he yawns. “I'm starving. I got ten whole reps in today, right, Grunkle Ford?” He looks especially proud about it.

Ford shucks off his ire to give his nephew a warm smile. “That you did, my boy. Up two compared to last week, by my calculations. You're going to be giving me a run for my money before the summer is over.”

Dipper rubs the back of his neck, bashful, but the way he's beaming betrays his excitement. “I wouldn't go that far….”

“Nice work, dude,” you grin, offering a hand out for a high five.

He takes the bait and slaps your palm with his before fetching himself a soda. “So, how long ‘til dinner?”

You wince inwardly. He'll be hungry enough to eat a horse by now and you can't let him subsist on snacks after all the exercise he's done today. It won't help him build the muscle you know he so desperately wants if all he eats are chips, dips and sodas.

“You better stock up on snacks tonight, kid,” Stan chuckles as he reaches for his own bag of chips that he already has open the table top. “Somebody forgot to get ingredients.”

You shoot Stan a venomous look and at Dipper's disappointed little ‘wait, what?’, you turn back to Ford. Storm be damned, the idea of letting down a child makes you feel worse than getting stuck in a downpour ever could, and you know you'll regret it but what other choice do you have? You've done stupider things for less.

“You're sure the patch isn't far from here?” You ask Ford, giving in with a sigh. “And we'll beat the storm?”

Ford beams at your change of heart, and that, combined with the knowledge of a well-fed charge, instantly makes your agreement worth it. His moods vary like the wind sometimes and you’re always eager to see him happy because you know that it means he’ll spend more time talking to you.

“We'll be in and out in under an hour, you have my word,” he assures you. “I know that place like the back of my hand.”

You sigh again. “Fine. I'll go with you to get the mushrooms.”

Dipper slips back out of the kitchen. Usually, you're sure he'd inquire about your task and ask to come along, but it seems he really is thoroughly exhausted from his gym session and he takes an early leave. Poor kid.

Ford nods, pleased. “Give me a moment to shower and change. I'll put together some supplies and then we can leave.”

“Sure,” you smile. “And thank you, Doctor Pines. I appreciate the help.”

Ford grins, giving you a nod, and then he’s following his nephew out of the kitchen, sweeping down the hallway to sort out his things.

You make use of the spare time to tidy up a little and lower the gas on the stock as low as it will go, then take the pan off the heat. If Ford means what he says about getting in and out quickly, you might have a chance at saving the rest of the prep and it would be a shame to have to start everything over again.

You clean up your workstation and make sure everything is safely put aside before taking a seat at the table to wait.

It's then that you realise Stan is watching you closely. He’s smirking, and it always makes you a little nervous when he wears that mischievous look.

“What?” You ask him hesitantly.

“You can just call him Ford, y’know,” Stan says, slumping back in his chair and looking amused. “Pretty sure he wouldn’t mind….”

You roll your eyes, shrugging one shoulder. “Not this again. I told you before, he's never asked me to call him anything else. I did the same for you when I first started, didn't I?”

“Yeah, and I told you to stop because you made me sound like my old man,” Stan gripes through a mouthful of potato chips.

“Exactly, and that's your prerogative,” you say, a little defensively.

You're telling the truth; Ford hasn’t ever asked you to call him something less formal, even if you might like to try the taste of something more intimate on your tongue. “Ford has earned his title, I’m not going to take it away from him.”

Stan snorts. “Oh, I bet he loves that.”

“What?”

“You, stroking his ego and running around after him like a lost puppy,” Stan says, amused.

“First of all, I run around for everyone in this house like a lost puppy, it's literally my job,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Secondly, I’m not stroking his ego. The guy’s smart and he’s got an armful for doctorates. I’m just…. Acknowledging that.”

“Uh huh,” Stan says, sceptical.

“What now?” You huff.

“Nothing.”

“Stan,” you say sternly. “Don’t play coy, it doesn’t suit you.”

“Oh come on,” he says, trying and failing to keep the smirk off of his face. “Could you be any more obvious? You're worse than Dipper was when he came back after all that time, hanging off his every word and getting all googly-eyed over him like the sun shines out of his ass.”

“I don’t-“

“‘Yes Doctor Pines, no Doctor Pines’,” Stan simpers, putting on a poor imitation of your voice. “Take me out to the woods and experiment on me, Doctor Pines!’”

You can feel your face heat up. “You're such an asshole sometimes, you know that? And he isn’t experimenting on me, he asked me to help hi-”

“Show me your magic mushroo -“

Someone clears their throat in the kitchen doorway and both you and Stan whip your heads around to follow the source of the noise. Much to your horror, Ford is waiting for you, clad in jeans and a trademark red turtleneck along with a pair of filthy hiking boots. There's a sizable backpack slung over one of his broad shoulders and he doesn’t look very amused at his brother's antics.

“Are you done?” He asks, levelling Stan with a searing look.

Stan opens his mouth, still grinning, and Ford cuts him off instantly. “Actually forget that, I know you’re not,” he says. “You never are.”

Then he turns his attention to you.

You’re trying very hard not to melt into a humiliated puddle on the floor and under his gaze you feel yourself slip just a little further down into your seat.

His gaze softens somewhat, almost sympathetic, and he gestures vaguely towards the front door down the hall. “If you're not too busy being harassed, I'm ready to set off,” he says.

You really rather wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole right now, but alas, you do need those stupid mushrooms…..

“Sure,” you say faintly, scrambling up from your seat.

Ford heads off towards the foyer and you try to compose yourself with a deep breath before you follow him, glancing back to stick your tongue out at Stan again.

Stanley laughs at your awkwardness and as you hurriedly trot towards the hall, he pretends to fan himself dramatically.

“Three bags full, Doctor Pines,” Stan grins, and then you're shutting the kitchen door on him before you put your job on the line with the insult you're lining up in your head.

Stan thinks he's endlessly funny when it comes to winding you up over Ford and if you show how much he gets under your skin with it, he'll only get worse. You think he might be doing it in the hopes of putting you off his brother, but he’ll need to try a lot harder than that.

Instead of encouraging him, you follow in Ford's footsteps down the short, oak panelled hallway until you reach the front door.

Ford has already donned his reliable tan trench coat, patiently waiting for you to pull your own jacket and boots on. So much of the town is woven between the forest that you practically live in hiking shoes these days and it doesn't take you long to be readily dressed and warm.

Once you’re sorted, Ford swings the heavy oak front door open. A well-timed gust of cool wind blusters in as he does so, ruffling your clothes and hair, and instantly you realise the weather is much more intimidating when face to face with it.

It's incredibly dull out here. In the short time that Ford and Dipper have ended their routine and you've packed your things up, the sky has gotten impossibly darker. The winds must have herded more clouds overhead than you’d realised and the light has faded so much that you'd be forgiven for assuming it to be almost night time. When you check your watch, however, it still reads barely 6PM.

Ford must catch the concern on your face because he picks up on your worry straight away. “It's just overcast,” he reassures you. “I’ve seen plenty of storms like this in the time I’ve lived here. We'll have enough time to make it there and back before it gets too dark, and I brought torches as a precaution.”

That makes you feel a little better, at least. You know he’s an experienced outdoorsman and he’d probably be able to find his way around here blindfolded and hogtied. If you have to go out in risky weather with anyone, Ford is your best bet.

With the stride of a uniquely confident man, Ford steps out into the evening with a sharp breath inward and a contented sigh, taking in the awaiting scent of petrichor. He holds the door open for you with one hand and gestures for you to follow with the other, offering you a rakish grin.

“Shall we?”

And when he smiles at you like that, what choice do you have?

A/N: Yay! You made it to the end!

So firstly, I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to post another work! These take a bit of time for me to write because I tend to write the entire work in one go from start to finish before I begin posting and I've also been unwell/busy, so it took a backseat for a bit but here we are!

Secondly, as I posted at the start, this is going to be a small series and will start as a decently sized multi-chapter fic. There will be smut and I already have most of it written. Your patience will be rewarded!

Please consider supporting me on ao3 also :)

#stanford pines x reader #ford pines x reader #stanford pines/reader #ford pines/reader #stanford pines #ford pines #reader insert #surprise! Figured I'd give you guys something while I finish the rest #gravity falls/reader #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls imagines #gravity falls

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cmdrfupa · 5 months ago

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Kento Nanami, His Royal Highness, has found himself curious about you. He refuses to call it infatuation because that's for people with no self control, something he has loads of. But social media is becoming increasingly less effective. He wants to experience you in the flesh and the perfect opportunity to meet you has landed in his lap. Now if you could always stay this close to him.

ModernRoyal!Nanami x PlusSize!Reader (black/woc coded but all can read and enjoy obvs 😗)

a/n: Congrats on 3k and Thank you @ayyy-pee for letting me participate the jujutsu journal event! I got carried away sksksksks. But I was inspired by this song . Idk what it was but it felt right. Anywho, I hope you enjoy!

WC: 3.4K

MDNI

c/w: partial smau, jealousy, sexual/provocative thoughts, stalker behavior, unhealthy infatuation and obsession, sexual acts, mentions of sex, italics aboose, internal dialogue, smut (vaginal fingering)

He'd seen you in more and more of Gojos' IG posts over the last year, untagged. Assuming you were just a Gojo girl who wanted to be around for the perks of a wealthy socialite, He never asked to be introduced. But he did ask your name.

A simple "Her face looks familiar" was all it took for Gojo to share not only your name and social media but also your profession, the university you were attending to get your degree, marital status, the name of your cat, and the fact that you lived in the US. Satoru loved to talk, thank goodness.

'Is that a Zenin? Tch'. A picture of you sitting in Naoya's lap, hand gripping your under thigh, sat on his dimmed screen. Maybe you had a reason for being seen with scumlike Naoya, but it wasn't a reason Kento wanted to know about. The following post was a brunch photo. A group of ladies with Gojo in the center. 'Keeping better friends. Smart girl.'. You were an enigma that brought him closer to the brink every time he saw your million-dollar smile.

His thoughts always started so pure before he thought about you in his bed, the strapless dress you wore in a photo captioned "Shawty got that dress on so the block is hot again" on his floor while at the same time, giving you the meanest strokes for teasing him this way. Thank heavens for the photos. Kento decided a throwaway Instagram account to like the posts and to look at your story would be brighter. Admiring more stealthily, he can at least fantasize about a life with you now that 'RateUp7_3' exists.

So put together. Every story or post included a bright smile or smolder in clothing that made him envy how they hugged your shape. Hair is always in its perfect, coiled natural state while you sit between Gojo and Geto or sit in their lap like some trophy. Satoru hugged you differently. Well. You were the only woman he seemed to hug in these photos. "Interesting," Nanami noted, something he should reanalyze when he has more time.

He pocketed his phone, realizing he had made it to his destination.

A small welcoming committee stood with broad smiles as they greeted HRH Crown Prince Kento. Bowing his head, taking the little book that was handed to him and began to look over the itinerary. "Busy week ahead! Your grandfather is waiting for you in Minato City." With that, his courtier, Ino, began to give him details for the coming week.

Thanks to Gojo's extraordinary +1 privileges, you found yourself amid a private Gala he was obligated to attend. The champagne-colored satin gown, a cascade of elegance, draped your figure, accentuating the rich hues of your skin. A sight that could only be described as divine.

He broke off after briefly greeting Gojo, Geto, and others you weren't familiar with. He made his way to you near the bar, Easily making it seem like he was making his rounds to guests.

"Good evening"

"Hello! You're Satoru and Suguru's' friend, right?" you inquired.

"I wouldn't say friend to Gojo. He's more like a gift with a purchase. But yes, I'm Ken."

Giggles turned into a laugh once you both looked back over at Gojo, eating mini cupcakes, and Geto looking at him with concern.

Your laugh. It was the sounds of the heavens welcoming him to the golden throne. You snorted, and the resolve Kento had was officially withering.

"He's an interesting guy. I met him at a show I walked in a little over a year ago. Before that, he slid into my DMs and even sent me a pie to get my attention."

Kento didn’t think he could be jealous. That's for people who weren't self-assured. And he was very, very sure. Yeah, he's a man, but he's very strong-willed. No no. Not jealous. But this whole pie thing-

"Did it work?" Abruptly speaking. "The pie, I mean."

"Well, I'm talking to you right now. So what do you think?"

Kento exhaled a laugh, pushing back a strand of hair before looking over to you.

"He is a friend. A very good one. Always reliable"

"I've seen him in his element. He is indeed." sipping your cocktail, looking at him as you do.

"You mentioned walking in a show. Are you a model?" if you wanted to lie, it would've been a shame. He's already gone to see that your latest Savage Fenty ambassador collab dropped two days before you arrived in Japan. You looked ravishing in that fervently floral number.

"I am. I primarily work with small houses and on-the-rise designers. But that's how Satoru and I met. He was a guest model for FroviàGalón last season. It was a big hit. We've been working most shows together ever since."

This man could have any woman he wanted; He was Nanami family royalty. Handsome, smooth without even trying. He could buy a country with the proper connection if it mattered. But Gojo sending you a pie and practically being your purse dog makes him feel something. He was feeling jealous over a stupid pie and that white-haired imbecile. The slow unraveling because you snorted and the image of you spreading to show your glistening, plump, wet-

"The boy just loves to be in people's faces. He's one of the girls when we're out, so it's always a good time". Jealousy piques his nerves, and he notices your eyes trailing back to Gojo and Geto.

"He does enjoy good times."

"Speaking of, you plan on going to his after-party?" Innocence in your tone.

"After party? Of course, he finds that fitting for after a Gala."

His gaze lingered on your mouth, licking the remnants of the salted rim as you held the glass close to your body. The perfect honey-hued gloss with a hint of a shimmer. ’Her lips trailing down my chest, tongue lightly leaving a wet trail before swirling over my nip-‘

"You should come! I don't do parties, but since I'm on holiday, why not enjoy it?" the silky pep in your voice was going to be the death of him.

"I will consider it."

Get it together, Nanami.

Before he could offer to get you a drink, an older gentleman who looked very similar to Kento waved in his direction.

"I have to get going, unfortunately. But it was a pleasure meeting you. I.. don't know your name."

You tell him, smiling and holding your hand out.

"It was a pleasure to meet you as well, Ken. Hope to see you later tonight." He kissed your hand before walking off.

"Oh! And Bavarian cream."

"I'm sorry?" Confused, Kento turned back to you slightly.

"For the pie. I like Bavarian cream pie."

He smiled, turning away. "Fucks sake." He huffed, and his waistband was doing more work than anticipated tonight.

You made your way to the elevators, Gojo and Geto catching up as Geto wrapped his arm around your waist, pecking your cheek.

Kento watched you intently as he stood with his family. Saying goodbye to other guests was the least of his concerns when the swaying of your body had his mind completely occupied. Getos arm causing a severe problem for him as it sat right at your ass.

5… 4… 3… breathe Kento

He continued to make small talk with the guest, smiling as you three got into the elevator, doors closing, and his heart racing.

It was like Gojo needed to learn how to have a small party. His penthouse, one of many, was now an entire club. A spacious dance floor, an open bar, and a dessert bar because that man wasn't touching a drop of alcohol. But a slice of Black Forest cake? Different story.

With an area roped off, you headed through the crowded floor in that direction.

"There's my girl!" Shoko stood first, taking the cigarette out of her mouth before hugging you tightly. "How are you, doll face?"

"Better now that I've seen you, babe."

“I'm glad you decided to show up over an hour late." Gojo chimed in, an overdramatized look of annoyance on his face while pulling you to sit beside him.

"Toru. You know me. I'm not wearing the same fit to an after-party, bookie. Your girl had to get cute and comfortable."

"And a pair of Versace platforms is comfortable?" Geto questioned, sass embedded in his tone with a smirk.

"Exactly. I knew you'd get it, SuguPoo." the group laughed.

"Suguru, she's a Versace and Moschino model now. Those platforms are nothing", Satoru closed in, a cheeky smile spreading across his face as he handed you a drink.

Your cheeks got warmer as he mentioned your latest gig. You had officially made your mark. You were now standing as one of the few black curve models to walk one of the major fashion houses, getting the gig with pure talent. "Oh, baby. The way I wasn't expecting to hear back after my little rant about fashion house politics. But who could say no to this body?" You ran your hands down your hips and lightly smacked your rear, pulling playful howls from Shoko and Gojo while Geto laughed, shaking his head at your antics.

"Come on, let's give our faves show. I've missed you!" Gojo grabbed your hand, leading you to the dance floor. Shoko and Geto sat back to watch with their drinks in hand.

Kento watched and waited until you left the area, hands finally relieved of the clammy feeling they had for the last hour. Trying to restrain the hard-on you gave him once he saw the tight dress you changed into, he slipped into the bathroom to wait you out.

Nanami joined them the moment you left the section.

"Where've you been?" Shoko questioned harmlessly.

"Was just talking with some old acquaintances. I was trying to get back to you guys."

"Your detail giving you some breathing room tonight?" Geto pointed with his chin to the security guard he was used to seeing with Nanami, in far less inconspicuous attire than usual.

"You could say that. Didn't want to kill the mood."

It was as if the music slowed when Kento's gaze approached you. The dance floor was packed, but he knew where you were—dancing with Satoru, who he wished to flick away so you could be all over him instead.

The way your body was swaying, generous ass moving against Gojo to a very poor mix of Pour It Up by Rihanna. You made it worth sitting through an awful set if it meant seeing how you grind on literally anything. The short, amber-colored dress showed the ample flesh he felt so desperate to grip onto. ' If you could just sit in my lap so I could hold you up as I give you every fucking inch of me.’

"I'm gonna step out for some air." Kento stood up, grabbing his gin and tonic, not looking back to see if Geto or Shoko heard him.

Outside, he leaned against the railing. The late-night weather was welcoming. The faint almond scent from the trees wafted past his nostrils pleasantly. Closing his eyes, he sighed deeply, leaning into the comfortable breeze against his skin.

Every bit of contact he'd had with you that day felt like a tiny gesture of sweet love. How your supple skin felt under his lips when he kissed your hand. Your laughter was a healing potion. He left the comfort of his estate to see a woman who made him weak just by snorting. You were the beautiful, intelligent woman who was friends with Gojo and Geto. Under 6 hours of finally experiencing your perfection in person without a barrier and he couldn't fucking breathe without his constricted dick throbbing. So many people had access to you and he wanted to know you better than they did. He wanted to be to only one with that access. You were a need. Needing you beside him, on top of him, under him, “I want to hear you same my name while I sing yours like a praise to the heavens. My angel. My everything”

He brings the glass to his mouth, finishing the watered-down gin drink.

The sound of heels approaching brought him back to earth. "Having fun?" His angel came into view as he opened his eyes.

"More or less. It seems like you're having a blast." The shimmer of your lip gloss kept his eyes on your lips longer than he intended.

"For sure. Satoru is always my dance partner when we're out together."

"That happens often?"

"Eh. When I'm visiting here, only when Suguru doesn't feel like it. So very often."

Kento offered the space next to him as you both snickered. Standing by him, he finally saw your beauty under the moonlight. Everything about you was like an awakening. Flawless, gentle, soft.

A few moments of silence passed before you spoke. "You know, you should do a better job of staring from across the room if you were trying to be lowkey."

Your words stun him, a nervous laugh leaving his mouth as he stands up straight.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable by any means."

"I'm not uncomfortable. I wouldn't have come out here if I was."

Relief shows as the wrinkles in his forehead relax. "Was it really that obvious?"

"Maybe I'm delusional, but your eyes followed me most of the night."

"Not delusional. But, to be clear. I find you incredibly attractive."

Your cheeks were now warming as his brown eyes looked for yours. "I'm flattered.”

"Can I buy you a drink? Preferably at a quieter locale?"

"Are you asking me out, Ken?"

"I wouldn't subject you to a drink as a first date."

Your smile glowed a bit more as he placed his hand on your lower back, making your way to the closest exit with him.

"We can discuss a proper date during the drinks. I am a gentleman, after all."

"Show me the way then, Ken."

"So hotel stays are your usual choice when you're here?"

Trying to keep your balance, you wrapped yourself around Kento's arm while you walked down the corridor from the bar.

“50/50. I grab a hotel if I get in too late or stay at one of Toru's places if I tell him in time. I'll be doing that in the morning once I check out."

'Toru? We will have to talk about these nicknames.'

"Well, I hope I was pleasant enough company this evening."

"You're fun, Ken," your voice echoed as you approached the elevators. "You are quite the man, and I had a great time getting to know you."

"It's been my pleasure. You are captivating and have my attention." The energy was refreshing for you both. He wasn't another menace from your DMs. A philanthropist finance guy was rare—a gentleman with a gentle disposition.

You stopped, going to balance against the wall, bending over to take off your heels.

"Here, let me."

"It's alright, I got it." you persisted, with no progress.

"Darling, you're missing the strap of the heel. I insist." You giggled and watched as he bent down on one knee to unfasten the dainty strap, removing the heels from your feet as you held onto his shoulders for support. A heat rushed to your ears as you felt how delicate he was being with you.

"Ken, you are indeed a godsend."

Nanami carried your shoes as he led you into the elevator, holding it open. "Which floor are you on?"

“30th,”

He hit the floor number and went to lean against the back wall. You stood in front of him, eyes on his exposed collarbone.

Noticing your unsteadiness, he stepped forward and carefully placed his hands above your waist.

"Easy. You okay?"

With your heart racing at 1000 miles an hour, you could only nod.

* Floor 4*

You leaned forward, placing your hand on his chest to steady yourself. Cedarwood and alcohol on his breath. Your eyes met his with a shared feverish desire as you peered up. You were buzzing now from the proximity.

*Floor 9*

You don't know how your hand went from his chest to gripping his neck, nails running through his undercut, but it happened before you got to floor 20, where he stopped the elevator.

"Ken.. please,"

His large hands gripped your thighs, lifting one of your legs to wrap around him. Your dress was already short, now hiking up as he pressed his thick bulge into your inner thighs.

"Please.. please say my name again." He grinds himself into you, pang of desire in his voice, breath tickling your ear as you wriggle your hand between you both to unbutton his shirt from the top.

"Ken. Nngh, shit. Ken.. I need you."

Lips finding purchase on your neck, nipping at any skin he could sink his teeth into. The pads of his fingers run down your panty-covered slit. A shiver went through you as he circled at your throbbing bundle of nerves.

"Fuck! Please, Ken."

"Please, what, darling? Use your words for me." His voice grew gruff as he felt you trying to grind against him.

"Please make me cum for you,"

“You want to make a mess for me. You want to be a slut in this elevator?” The patronizing voice made you whimper as the sound of Kento ripping your thin panties jilted you, his middle finger sinking into you deeply. A deep moan was all you could muster as his thick digit pumped into you, nails leaving crescents on his shoulders as he kept you pressed against the elevator wall. "Keeennnn. Fuck”

"All that for me, princess? Your cunt this wet all for me?" He curled his thick finger inside, finding that soft, sweet spot that made your knees buckle. "Looking at my hands while I drove. Playing innocently with them while you sat beside me in the booth." Talking through his teeth, he brought his weight against you, keeping you up as he aimed to make you beg before the elevator automatically began to move again. "beautiful, plump cunt was begging to have my fingers fill you. Is this it? Hm? Is this what my princess needed?"

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, yes! P-please don’t stop." You were desperate for release. The sloppy noises of your wet cunt filled the elevator as he relished in the slippery sensation. Brushing his lips to yours, Kento languidly slid his tongue inside your mouth, rolling them his tongue over yours while his grunts grew louder—a string of saliva connected you, a shared fervid look as the elevator dinged.

His hand was soaked, but he couldn't let this be where he gave you an orgasm for the first time. Letting your leg down, he brought his hand to your mouth, running his fingers covered in your essence on your lips.

"When we get to your room, you are mine. All of you." The hungry determination in his eye didn’t leave room for question; you were to be devoured.

The sun was like a death ray as the bright rays and the constant buzzing nearby awakened you.

"Ken," you rolled over to see him lying on his back, bite marks and glitter across his chest.

"Mm," his groggy tone, letting you know he was only halfway listening.

"Ken. Please get your phone. That shit is going nonstop."

"Sorry, angel"

He groaned as he moved, kissing your shoulder gently. You kissed his lips as he reached over you to the bedside table. The vibrations didn't seem to have an end in sight.

"No one should need me this early. I should have an open schedule."

Opening the first text in his sights, he begins to read, stomach sinking as he clicks the link Gojo sent.

"Ken, you okay? "

Nanami sat his phone down, trying to keep his composure. He knew he had to prepare you for the whirlwind of a nightmare that was to come. For you, at least. He didn't have to take the drastic measures he originally planned to have you, at least.

This may be good. No more admiring outside of your photo shoots. No more trips with just Satoru and Suguru to islands. He would be your comfort; you'd be by his side only. This incident could be the beginning of a whirlwind romance. That is different from how he would've done things. But he could soothe this over eventually.

"Before I say anything, just know I will do everything possible to keep you comfortable. Okay?" the sincerity in his eyes had you. You nodded as you looked down at his phone, eyes widening as you read the now-trending story.

“Kento? What the fuck is this? Prince!?”

thanks to the lovely @/saradika for the dividers <3

banner featuring art from @/narutoss_ramen! please go check them out!

Thank you for reading! <3

#nanami kento #nanami kento smut #nanami x reader #nanami x you #kento x reader #kento smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #JujutsuJournal #nanami kento au #kento x y/n #lu.logs

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daniclaytcn · 2 years ago

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something i really appreciate about s6 is the sheer number of callbacks and references to the previous seasons, and the resolution of storylines that had seemingly been dropped. athena’s trauma regarding tanya was brought up for the first time since athena begins, three whole seasons ago. the whole couch metaphor was built off a seemingly throwaway plot point from 5x13. i’m pretty sure that 6x11 and 6x12 is the first time since s1 that the plane crash and its aftermath has been dealt with in so much detail. they went to the trouble of bringing back the exact same character and actor from buck begins for the sperm donor storyline. chim’s issues with his dad were brought up for the first time since s3, the existence of daniel was brought up in so much detail for the first time since s4. and it would take too long to list all the easter eggs and hidden references to previous key moments in 6x11. like idk, they’ve always done this to some extent in previous seasons, but i think s6 really shows us how much the writers respect their own canon and are clearly very aware of even the smallest of details. i also think it’s a good reminder for us that we can never be certain that any particular storyline has been completely dropped for good, as the show has emphasized over and over again, it always cycles back and picks up threads that were left hanging when they’re relevant again.

#neethu speaks #911 fox

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phneltwrites · 9 months ago

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Got some comments a while back asking me about how I do research for fic, so here are my two tips of dubious quality based on my own experience.

become an observer of habitual things

a bad detail is worse than no detail, take things out

I think stories feel well-researched or lived in when there's details that feel true and real to what those characters would be experiencing. But it can be hard to figure out what to include. That's usually when the research rabbit hole kicks in. Researching everything, trying to figure everything out but not knowing what to look for and ending up overwhelmed. And then! still not knowing what to include.

The counteragent to that is to look up the things that character would be eating, touching, using, travelling through as they are going about their life. And then including those things.

But figuring out those things is the hard part!!!

That's where I recommend really pausing and noticing mundane things. For example: Character A is walking down the street, finishing up a snack and then throws the wrapper into a garbage can.

If we break that down, there's a lot implied there, but I'll talk about one thing: the garbage can.

Streetside public garbage cans imply that there is a central authority responsible for garbage that will come and collect it and take it away. That's a monumental amount of civic infrastructure! So streetside public garbage is not a thing that exists most places in the world.

If you notice the things you do and then stop and ask yourself what systems need to be in place to make that thing happen, that can help point to where something might be different for your character. Those differences are opportunities to include small details that will make the work feel more lived in.

Become a person who pauses and notices. It'll make your research more targeted and manageable.

The more repeated an action is in your own life, the more invisible it becomes to you, and the more rich and depth you can give your writing if you challenge its normalcy.

Sometimes, though, you figure out something is probably a point of different but are like fuck me if I know what they do about garbage. So my other tip for writing things that feel well-researched is: omit details.

Character A doesn't have to do anything with that wrapper. They finish their snack and continue on towards the train.

I wrote a fic once that many lovely people said felt very true to the 90s and I was like heck yeah!!! I spent all my research points on 90s vibe research so that felt good. And then the second most common thing people said in the comments was that people in Seattle don't use umbrellas. It was a throwaway line that if I'd focused on being a noticer of habitual things, I might have thought about. But I'd been cocky about my knowledge of Seattle, a place that I've visited, and didn't pause. And that line threw a bunch of people out of the cocoon of 90s popcorn ceilings and screaming modems that I'd been weaving. It didn't need to be there and without it I could have kept up the illusion that I knew what I was talking about.

This doesn't just go for writing about places. For example, RICH PEOPLE DON'T BUY THEIR OWN GROCERIES. That man is NOT in a grocery store looking at basil he has people for that. What is the point of a dubious billionaire fantasy if he's acting like a middle manager i ask u.

So to sum up: pause before including any everyday actions and consider their implications. Find out if that character would do it differently.

And if you can't find out, then skip it.

#writing #research

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starlightshadowsworld · 2 months ago

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I don’t buy into the Fyodor is Atsushi’s father but it would make this one random line from the manga make sense.

In chapter 13 Atsushi brings Kyouka to the Agency after the cargo boat fight. When Detective Minoura comes to visit and notices Kyouka looks similar to the assassin they’re looking for.

He starts questioning her and Atsushi panics and says “it’s all a long story. It all began when I was doing a government mission and doing a Cossack dance in a wheat field to search for the elusive Tsuchinoko snake.”

Which first of all, someone needs to teach Atsushi how to lie better. He can act like a star but man he can’t lie for shit.

This line is played as a joke and Fukuzawa steps in to claim Kyouka as his granddaughter. Which no one questions because of how similar they act and because Fukuzawa is scary as hell without trying.

But this line has always stood out to me as too weirdly specific to just be a throw away bit. Looking it up the Cossack dance also known as the Hopak dance is a Russian and Ukrainian folk dance.

And that’s just a very random thing for Atsushi to know about. Sure he could’ve read about it but it’s not something I’d expect a teenager who grew up mostly in solitary in a poor orphanage in the middle of nowhere in Japan.

Not saying it’s impossible but it’s a weirdly specific detail to add in.

Especially because the snake he mentions, the Tsuchinoko snake is from Japan. Well it’s from Japanese folklore and I could give Atsushi a hard time for not picking an actual snake.

But a really specific dance.

But he’s a weretiger so who fucking knows if this snake exists in this world. Also its name translates literally to “child of hammer.” Which is pretty fucking dark considering what the Headmaster did to him with a hammer when he was 11 years old.

But if Atsushi was related to Fyodor, a Russian man who honestly was probably around when the dance was created (sometime in the 1660’s among military communities.)

It could be used as an explanation as to why he knows this. That or Atsushi was just a very cultured child (or my headcanon that many of the staff are originally from other countries who fought in the Great War and then settled here after it ended.)

Or it’s just a silly throwaway line that means nothing that’s also an option but where’s the fun in that?

Also love Junichiro and Kunikida silently judging Atsushi the whole time for his weird ass lie.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd atsushi #bsd fyodor dostoevsky #bsd fyodor #atsushi nakajima #bsd spoilers #bsd manga spoilers

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shiplessoceans · 8 months ago

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Magnus Protocol theory incoming:

Disclaimer: I have only listened to the original podcast once through. Binged it in the span of 2 months while playing Disney Dreamlight Valley (it was a dark time in my life, I cope how I cope). I am still hazy on the finer details and names (Bouchard's, Leitners etc etc.)

But I had a thought around TMP episode 5 and I am more convinced of it now having listened to the latest episode.

I think when Martin and Jon went through the rift, they went to an alternate universe, but also an alternate TIME within the universe.

And in the timeline of the Magnus Protocol as we are listening to it, they are both either older than when we left them, or long dead having lived for years in this current world.

The evidence we have is their voices on the computers. I did initially wonder: "wait, have they been turned into A.I voice programs by the horrors?"

But it's far more likely that they made each recording and put it into this old analogue system that could handle and contain the records without glitching.

Which would mean the Institute (Office of Incident Assessment and Response) as it currently exists could have been established by Jon and Martin, or at least they took part in setting it up in an attempt to prevent what happened in TMA from happening here. Yes, they brought the horrors through, but they can contain them. Keep the records random, screen young people for some kind of study (not sure what that's about yet) and then hire a bunch of casuals to sit around on shifts and catalogue the recordings to feed The Eye. But keep them vague, rotate staff in and out frequently and make sure none of them can become The Archivist to repeat the ritual.

Gwen mentioning time travel study feels important.

The Magnus Insistute was destroyed in this universe, which feels like something Jon and Martin would do, to prevent history from repeating.

Gwen being a Bouchard could be a coincidental throwaway, red herring style, because Elias Bouchard wasn't innately anyone special until the horrors marked him. Gertrude being alive in this universe feels important and is another indicator that history in this world is different than in TMA.

I think we're supposed to think this world is different because it's an alternate universe but I am convinced Jon and Martin made changes to try to fix the timeline.

My question is: Who's watching? We know we only ever hear security footage and people's mobile phones secretly listening to them and in the most recent episode a tape switched on in the burnt down Institute to record Sam and Alice digging around.

We are listening. We are still avatars of The Eye. But I have to wonder if Jon is off somewhere, unable to keep his eyes off things, making sure nothing is going wrong...

Will come back and eat my words if I'm wrong!

#tma podcast #the magnus protocol #tmp spoilers #tmp #the magnus archives #the mag pod theory #tmp theory #tmagp #tmagp spoilers #tmagp speculation

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dyslexicandakeyboard · 6 months ago

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With Batfamily does comic canon matter? Yes!

Should you be authoritarian with it? No!

All this "Canonically blah-blah" or "Actually in 1989 🤓" really shouldn't matter. I understand that some of it is in good fun but sometimes we cross the border of "here's an interesting tidbit" to "anyone that writes about this thing in fanon instead of this canonical inconsequential detail should be feel ashamed of themselves and flog themselves".

Don't get me wrong, I personally like elements of canon better than fanon (and vice versa) BUT not this isn't Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings.

Most individual issues are throwaway. DC quite literally plays fast and loose with canon.

Like is there synergy between writers, absolutely. Is everything written supposed to be remembered years from now, hell no.

No writer expects you to have read all comics in existence or even a previous run. DC doesn't stand for Disregard Canon but D-isn't C-serious. Ed Brubaker didn't know Holly was killed when he wrote her in his Catwoman run, so you're not obligated to know or even take as canon that Jason's hair color was originally blonde or that he was apart of the Flying Todds or that he shot Damian.

I don't care about the War of Jokes and Riddles, nor do I care about Sasha or Vesper. I don't care that Dick had a fake wedding when he was like 20 or something and I don't care that Barbara wanted to be trained by Black Canary. I'm not gonna add that to my fics and I don't expect others too.

Really, all you need to know/read is a basic timeline (You can also just read up to a certain point and stop. That can be your canon!) and the origins. Everything else is icing on the cake.

#dc comics #batman #batfamily

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tiny-smallest · 3 months ago

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Sonic Movie Universe prediction: Robotnik is an orphan because of GUN

I think what was supposed to be, tonally, a silly throwaway line is actually winding up to punch us in the face later.

Bear with me.

I barely remember the first movie since it was so long since I watched it, but aside from one, maybe two, of the comic universes, this line is the first time we have ever gotten anything at all about Ivo Robotnik's personal backstory. And it's that he's an orphan. In a story series that explicitly sets him up with a human identity- none of that Eggman stuff as his identity, not even a whisper of the name until it's a silly insult Sonic throws out later- this movie bothers to give him a Normal Human Society Firstname Lastname and a job.

(Okay, so Robotnik isn't exactly a normal human surname. But it's established canon that is the family name so. Suspension of disbelief.)

A series that we know will later delve, at least a little, into the story of Professor Gerald Robotnik WHO IVO APPARENTLY, ACTUALLY, DEFINITELY KNEW IN THIS CONTINUITY, AS HE HAS A SPECIFIC GRANDPA NAME FOR HIM AND NEARLY CRIES.

The original line was a ridiculous rebuttal to Tom during the fight in the house during the first movie. "Rub that in my orphan face," he says in response to Tom sharing a detail of his childhood during Silly Action Scene Banter. While there is a sort of tension there since the movie universe makes no bones about Sonic being an actual child and he is confirmed to be an alien, thus making the danger present of government capture and experimentation very real and kind of horrific, the scene as it plays out isn't overly out of character for something you'd expect in a Sonic movie. And although Robotnik is the threat here, he plays a large part in also keeping the scene lighthearted because of how utterly he fails to respond like a normal human being to literally anything. The comment about being an orphan at least makes sense based on what Tom said, but it's still weirdly personal and, therefore, kind of inappropriate to say. Like dude back up you're trying to kill a child why are you sharing your trauma with me that's uncomfortable.

Which brings me to the obvious point of that line- it's not just to make the scene funny, it's to show us how set apart from other humans Robotnik is. This is a man who has no idea how to interact with anyone, like, absolutely nobody, and every single scene he's in reminds us of this, including this one.

Now that the third movie has explicitly drawn a line between Shadow's backstory and themes of pain and loss, and we see Gerald Robotnik weeping over what I think is Maria's body in the aftermath of the murder (jesus that's dark) I have to connect a few dots of my own.

The first movie had another piece of foreshadowing they threw at us, this one way more obvious: at the end of the first movie, a government agent is sent to speak with the Wachowski couple. He tells them that Ivo Robotnik has been thoroughly erased from existence. As far as any documentation of him ever existing on Planet Earth, there is none. He hasn't merely disappeared- it's like he never was.

If they did this to Ivo after this catastrophe it's not a stretch to think they did the same with Professor Gerald. Hell, I thought that after movie number one. "That has to come up later- we have a character the government explicitly turns on in this series. Like, as a major plot point. The defining moment in several characters' stories. No way does their ability to erase someone not come up later."

But now I think they went a step further.

They've already murdered a little girl and broken an old man in their efforts to contain the genius they were frightened of.

Personally, I don't think it's a stretch to think that Ivo Robotnik, very young himself at the time most likely, is an orphan because GUN decided to eradicate the entire family line in an effort to prevent anyone like Gerald Robotnik from ever existing again.

Except. The son survived. Well shit. Uh. Stick him in an orphanage and keep an eye on him, I guess.

And where does he end up as a adult? A branch of the government. Where they can keep an eye on him.

(More than that, if they did erase Gerald, Ivo clearly remembers him... so Ivo may have joined them specifically to look for traces of the grandfather he knows existed and who doesn't seem to have any records proving that whatsoever. But that's Ivo's motivations and we're talking about GUN's, so, moving on.)

It's likely based on his sheer intellect, assuming Ivo wasn't embellishing too heavily, that he didn't have to grow for very long before that brilliance was obvious. Though the government's decision to let him live was strategic, weighing the gamble of assassination with the gamble of him inheriting the genius and deciding that risking him having the same genius as his grandfather was better than trying to kill him at this point, the gambit ultimately failed. Even though he was more than likely still only a child, they'd let him live too long. In just a few short years he quickly became a very real threat to the government- as in, if given a reason, he could be a very real threat. And nothing Ivo does is ever subtle or quiet, so his genius was probably very loud, and there was likely lots of attention, making an assassination impossible, because if there would be too many questions before, there would be an insurmountable amount if he died or disappeared now.

So, since they couldn't kill him, they continued to keep an eye on him and took him on at the government when he was old enough with the intention of keeping their enemies closer. Except all of their caution still wasn't enough and he went rogue the first time he was presented with the opportunity to grab at power they didn't already have, power capable of things beyond their wildest imaginations- a monster of their own making.

Ivo, who never asked for what happened to him, very likely a victim of circumstances he had no hope of ever controlling, who responded to this trauma by making his choice that power mattered more than anything- more than morals, more than hurting people who are just like he was once. That shaping his own world after all the horrors he planned to do in pursuit of that may finally, finally "be enough."

(Be enough for what, exactly, Ivo. You never did explain that. "Who knows? Maybe that will be enough." Elaborate.)

Whether he knew the truth about why he had suffered or not, Robotnik made his choices. He stood at that crossroads that demanded he make a choice about what kind of person he was going to be in the face of all the pain and loss, and he made his choice. This movie is about Shadow making his.

If this movie really wants to beat us all to death it won't just draw comparisons between Sonic and Shadow, but Shadow and Ivo Robotnik.

(If this movie wants to exorcize our souls after we're dead, if it intends to be a trilogy and not make more movies in following the original vision for Sonic Adventure 2, it'll place Ivo at a new crossroads, and this time, he'll make a different choice.)

(Especially since Professor Gerald, in a much worse state of madness and malice than Ivo, who the movie is setting up specifically as someone Ivo loves, admires, and almost certainly misses, probably won't.)

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog 3 #shadow the hedgehog #ivo robotnik #robotnik #sonic movie universe #personally i doubt they'll end the series here since it makes so much money #and given the quality of writing so far and the amount of source material i actually WOULD trust them with that decision #but if they DO decide to end it here...#rehabilitating ivo after drawing that comparison between him and shadow would be a helluva way to do it #especially since there's no way gerald however he actually exists in this world will make the better choice #it's like explicitly a plot point that he doesn't #unless homeboy played pokemon violet and went WHAT A FANTASTIC IDEA #and it's this android copy or clone who goes wait this is insane and evil actually and tries to stop it #then there won't be any intervention from the gerald we see in the trailer to stop the coming apocalypse #because like... he explicitly wants it- there's no iconic final battle scene without that #there is no meeting of the minds between all the other involved living characters without that crisis joining them together #and it's precisely that crisis + other shit i expect will happen to him in the movie that might make ivo decide to change his life #keyword there is MIGHT again we'll see #if they want more movies then rehabilitating him now is a poor choice so TIME TO STRAP IN AND WAIT

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iwritenarrativesandstuff · 2 years ago

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Ok so here's the fairy tale meta thing based off a lie that I was talking about.

In Dead Apple, there's a flashback scene at Bar Lupin where Dazai explains the concept of apple suicide to Oda, while a track called "Dear Prince" plays in the background. There's a brief mix-up where Oda confuses the story of Snow White for Cinderella - but when I first came up with this, I misremembered what he said (I mixed up... his mix-up...) and thought the line was about Sleeping Beauty.

And I'm so unreasonably annoyed by this because that would've made so much more contextual sense. Why? Because they both involve an awakening. Moreover, there's a few interesting details in the environment of the older tales (I will not be using the Disney versions as the Dead Apple motifs actually connect better with the originals and also because I have never actually seen them... embarrassingly enough) that translate quite nicely to aspects of Dazai's life and bonds.

Specifically, there are some loose parallels to be found with Odasaku and the story of Sleeping Beauty, and Chuuya and the story of Snow White. (Note that this is not intended to be shipping fuel or anything; interpret it however you like, I'm just drawing connections.)

And yeah, I know this is an entire half-baked meta formed around a line that doesn't even exist but please just give it a chance or at least humour me please please please please please

Alright let's get the Cinderella thing out of the way first since I want to at least address it.

Cinderella has its origins in the old Greek story of Rhodopis, which sets up the main aspects of the story we know now: a servant girl from a poor background ascends to royalty through marrying a prince, who searches for her after finding her missing shoe. This doesn't really bear any resemblance to the rest of the movie or any other ongoing themes... unless you want to suggest that maybe Dazai's jumping from one side to the other was something akin to a "shoe-test"; that he was looking for a perfect fit. I think that's quite a stretch though and it's likely this really was just a throwaway line meant to show us Oda's occasional uh... airheadedness. If anyone has any further thoughts on this, I'd love to hear them.

It's a shame, really, because the slip up could've been given more significance and also because as an analyst of sorts it is my sworn duty to pull meaning out of absolutely nothing so I guess I took another step further here and made up my own line to analyze in stupidly excessive detail.

The entire point of this was meant to show how both the stories of Sleeping Beauty and Snow White have a theme of awakening, and so do Dazai's bonds with both Odasaku and Chuuya - they both have a function of "waking him up" in a sense. However, the means of doing so manifest very differently.

So, let's talk about Sleeping Beauty.

Sleeping Beauty has its origins in an old Italian story called Sun, Moon and Talia, which has many of the elements we know today but was uh. A lot darker. And way more non-consensual. The version the more modern story takes its roots from is Perrault's version. Here are the important bits to this analysis: the princess pricks her finger on a spindle out of curiosity, the good fairy puts everyone in the castle to sleep along with her for 100 years so that she will not be alone when she wakes, the prince does not wake her with a kiss but instead she wakes just by his presence and they sit and talk for a long, long time.

So, on to my delusional parallels. Part one: the princess pricks her finger out of curiosity. See, for Dead Apple, we have to rethink this a bit because Dazai brings up the concept of apple suicide, not murder. Of course, this is a parallel to himself and his disregard for his own life, so here we can take it that he did not "prick his finger" out of mere curiosity, but also, likely out of a desire to "sleep".

It's hard for me not to draw a connection between the curiosity aspect of the finger prick and Dazai's curiosity to join the mafia, especially with the next part - where everyone falls asleep as well for the time the princess is asleep. Essentially, no one will age or die. For as long as the princess remains unconscious, the world will not change. And if the princess perhaps, wanted this, then we can infer what is likely a fear of being left. Maybe even a fear of living. Dazai joined the mafia because he was curious if it would have what he sought. Instead, he spent his days trapped in an "oxidizing dream" as he detached further and further both from his humanity and from others. The mafia is already a place where people don't talk to each other openly and we know Dazai was even more unknowable than that - if he doesn't care about himself or others, the dream goes on. He stays asleep, and if he doesn't care, then he doesn't lose anyone - no one truly "dies".

As for the last part, there isn't much to say. Dazai warms up to Odasaku because the man just talks to him. And likes talking to him. And doesn't tell him to stop when he's being really freaking weird. But notably, Odasaku doesn't do much at first to help Dazai "awaken". It's only when he's about to die in his fight against Gide that he realizes he regrets not saying something sooner. Odasaku only has one chance to wake Dazai before he dies and he does it by shattering that dream that he will find what he's looking for. Paradoxically, that hope Dazai held onto was what trapped him in that singular mindset. Oda dies shortly after and the illusion is broken. Dazai wakes up, his world kickstarts where it had previously been stagnant and Dazai greets the sun and tries to live.

See why I'm slightly annoyed this wasn't the line now?

But hey, while we're at it, let's also talk about Snow White because the Dead Apple movie was actually a lot more firm with its connections than I think people realize.

Firstly, I would love people to know that in the original Grimms' fairy tale, Snow White doesn't clean the dwarves' house but in fact burgles it, eating their food, drinking their wine and falling asleep in one of their beds after testing each one, and generally leaving the house in complete disarray. Yeah. Not related to my point at all, but this sounds an awful lot like something Dazai would do (but more out of mischief than naivete of course).

Here's the important part though: Did you know that the Queen attempted to have Snow White killed not just once, but three times? The first two times, the dwarves were the ones to save her and quite quickly - they made a deal after she broke into their house that she would fix it up for them and maintain it in exchange for her staying with them in safety. It's an agreement of sorts, but as they became fond of her, they try and save her life in earnest. The poisoned apple is actually the third attempt to kill her, where the Queen bites into the white, non-poisoned part of the apple and Snow White, thinking it safe, eats the red half and falls asleep.

Hey. Remember the colour of the pill Dazai took in Dead Apple?

Yeah, someone on that team knows the original fairy tale.

Interestingly (and this is where I got really excited), there are three different attempts to kill Snow White (or, if Dazai is to be believed, three different attempts at her own self-destruction) - and there are three different instances where Chuuya "wakes" Dazai, twice while they're partnered (when they have an "agreement", terms in a sense as partners), and once in Dead Apple.

The first is in Fifteen, the infamous scene where Dazai shoots the body and Chuuya snaps him out of it by wrenching the gun out of his hands. I'm honestly a bit too tired to go super into that scene right now but I'm doing a little bit on it later - all that needs to be acknowledged here is that Dazai was out of it and Chuuya forced him back to earth. The second occurs during the Dragon's Head Conflict when Dazai is completely insensitive to the death of a mafia executive and Chuuya decks him for it. The now-infamous line "no one would believe that" is often misinterpreted I think. Chuuya says this in response to Dazai's "I'm human, too, you know." He's not saying "you're not human", he's saying "you are human but no one would believe that with the kind of shit you're saying and doing". It's the same kind of sentiment in the first scene where Chuuya intervenes, I believe. And it is a form of waking, in that Chuuya snaps Dazai out of his more inhumane moments - he basically calls him out and forces him to reevaluate; the epitome of a rude awakening.

Now for the Dead Apple scene proper.

Firstly, let's establish something. They are no longer partners in the mafia. They are even on separate sides. The framing of this changes Chuuya's actions from working with Dazai with occasional call-outs to bring him back to earth, to saving him in what is quite literally a rescue.

In the original myth, again, there is no waking kiss. Instead, in this third time, everyone assumes Snow White is really dead, that she will not be coming back. The prince, who happens across her, insists she at least receive a proper burial. But when carrying her coffin, one of them trips and they stumble, which jostles the princess enough that the piece of apple stuck in her throat is dislodged and she coughs it up, reviving. Uh...

Yeah.

Anyways this got kind of messy at the end and idk if it even made sense this is really just unhinged rambling so...

Tldr, Odasaku and Chuuya both help "wake" Dazai even if their methods and personalities are very different, which is part of the reason why both bonds are very important. Neither are particularly gentle with him, but waking, especially if all you want to do is sleep, is not a gentle thing.

#this is barely a meta but if i didn't write this up i felt like i was going to go insane #not my best work by far but i hope it's at least enjoyable #bsd #bsd dead apple #bsd meta #bsd dazai #bsd odasaku #bsd chuuya #do i tag with the ship names? sure ig #odazai #soukoku #skk #storyrambles #<-last tag is appropriate story has rambled for too long on this. a meta based on a line that doesn't even exist

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