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bycherrygirl · 2 months ago

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❝𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐘, 𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 !❞ j. todd x f!reader

i run in & turn on the lights,

run my hands to his short, black hair,

"i love you, harvey, i don't care."

𝓦arnings: grammatical errors. the joker & his stupid, ugly, rusty, stinky crowbar.

𝓝otes

001. weejendn reached 200!!9#$($(#($ ohmygods THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU..DNDSSKJS

002. SCREAMING

003. idea ws by @/rob1nzex because i don't tolerate jason todd angst. ZzldaLSVR MEANLONE

004. ppl r prolly annoyed w my works bc most of them r js comforting j. todd. IMSORRRIRYDHDJ i js lobelobelobe comforting j. todd

jason returns home earlier than he normally does. not because the streets of gotham are somehow safer▰just because he's tired. his body is weighed down as he locks his bike in the garage of his apartment building. the night air is chilly, nipping at the edges of his jacket, but he doesn't even notice. he should eat something. he should wait for you. but he won't.

he pulls himself up the stairs, unlocks the door, & enters his apartment. it's nothing like the manor, where there is always someone awake, where the floors creak under the weight of too many bodies, where alfred would make him eat before he could do anything else. here, it's just him.

well, sometimes.

your keys aren’t by the door, which means you’re probably at work. jason’s aware of that, so he doesn’t wait around. he tosses his helmet onto the couch, shrugs off his jacket, & heads straight for the bathroom.

the shower is hot, but he hardly flinches. he washes himself off, zoning out as the blood(his & others' mostly others')rinses away down the drain. his fingers dig into the bruises along his ribs, seeing how painful they are. not bad. he's had worse.

then he dries off, puts on a pair of sweats, & flops onto the bed. the sheets are cold. though, they wouldn't be if you were here. but you're not, so he goes to bed early.

he shouldn't. he knows what happens when he goes to bed too early.

jason doesn't dream much▰at least, not about anything good. tonight is no different.

the crowbar swings.

his ribs crack.

joker's laughing, & he's down on the floor, choking, blood in his lips. he struggles to get up, but his arms refuse to move. every part of him aches. he can't catch his breath▰

the joker swings again.

& again.

again.

again. again. again. again.

jason jolts awake. screamed. his muscles shaking wildly, his breathing clipped & harsh. his heart thudding in his chest, & he feels sure he still feels the memory agony of the crowbar digging into his skin.

the room is black.

quiet.

no one runs in to turn on the light.

jason lets out a deep breath, his body still shaking, & runs a hand through his short, black hair. it's okay. it's okay. it's okay. he's accustomed to this. he can do it. he’s used to this. he should get used to this. he▰

the door opens.

light comes into the room.

jason doesn't have time to move before you barge in, wearing your hello kitty pajamas, you look like you just came out of the shower. when did you arrive?

"jay?" you're whispery, but urgent, as if you're not sure he won't disappear on you if you're too loud.

he doesn't move. he just blinks at you, still trapped between the past & the now. he didn't expect you. he didn't expect anyone.

you sigh, moving closer, & before he can tell you anything, you move in & ran your fingers through his hair, just as he'd done moments before. your touch is soft, cautious, centering. like he's some delicate art that's meant to be in a museum. jason's shoulders relax a bit, as if the burden of his own head is just a little less heavy with you around.

"you're okay," you whisper. "you're safe."

jason swallows. his throat is tightened he wants to tell you something, but all that gets out is, "you weren't supposed to be home yet."

you give a soft laugh, continuing to run your fingers through his hair. "i got off early." you pause before continuing, "are you okay?"

jason laughs harshly, turning away. "yeah. just a nightmare."

you don't appear to believe him, but you don't press. you sit down next to him on the bed, your hand still in his hair, letting the silence remain. jason allows you to.

for a moment, neither of you speaks.

then, softly, jason says, "i don't understand why you stay."

you blink. "what?"

his jaw tightens. "you're too good. & i'm just…" he takes a harsh breath, shaking his head. "i don't know. i don't want to mess you up."

your brows furrow, but your voice remains soft. "jason."

"i mean it," he grumbles. "i don't want to▰taint you. you should be with someone▰"

"say 'better' & i'm gonna hit you," you cut in, & jason looks at you, taken aback. you're frowning at him now, but not angrily. it's more frustration. sadness. you're upset.(no shit)

you, once again, let out a sigh & reposition so you're facing him correctly. "you ever seen a pomegranate?"

jason blinks. "what?"

"a pomegranate," you say again. "it's messy. red & kinda violent-looking when you open it up. if you're careless, it stains everything. but if you take your time with it. if you're patient, it's sweet. worth it." your thumb traces lightly over his temple. "you think you're just a mess, jason. but you're not. you've just never been handled right."

jason looks at you.

you look back.

for a moment, you wonder if he's going to fight. perhaps he's going to sneer, roll his eyes, inform you that you're wrong. but he doesn't. he simply looks… exhausted.

he slowly exhales, his eyes closing as he leans into your touch, & your heart breaks.

you shift your position, now lying beside him, still running your fingers through his hair. "i love you, jay." you whisper. "i don't care that you think you're messy, or broken, or whatever else your mind is trying to make you think. i love you, i'm not leaving. mess me up all you want. taint me. you're worth the mess.”

jason doesn't answer immediately. but eventually, his hand reaches for yours, interlacing his & your fingers together.

"…okay," he whispers.

you smile, laying a kiss on his lips.

"okay."

#୨ৎ. kayvi's works !#ᰔ . . . detective comics !#jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood x reader #red hood #dc x reader #dc comics #dcu #dc

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fvsm4x · 6 months ago

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𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐

synopsis. Pregnancy, usually a positive outcome of love between two partners that love each other deeply. But Pregnancy resulting from someone using you for their own pleasure is far from a positive outcome

+ warning/content. bully Gojo Satoru x female reader - reader is pregnant - mentions of abortion - mature themes/MDNI - usual warnings - suguru and reader are siblings - gojo is a fuckboy - angst angst angst:))

+ word count. 4.9k

a/n. Been a while since i‘ve updated this series…

<-previous - series mlist - next->

As your mother and father stormed out of your room, they slammed the door with a force that rattled the walls, leaving you alone with your brother in the suffocating silence that followed. The finality of that door slamming shut felt like an ominous punctuation—a statement that there was no turning back.

You stood frozen, your heart pounding so loudly that it drowned out the echo of their footsteps retreating down the hall. A knot tightened in your throat as the weight of their words crashed over you, a tidal wave of shame and dread. You forced yourself to take deep, steady breaths, trying desperately to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. The last thing you wanted was for your brother to see you like this—vulnerable, broken, on the verge of falling apart.

Is that it? you wondered, panic clawing at your insides. Is this really it? Am I actually getting kicked out? The thought left you feeling hollow, like everything you had ever counted on had been stripped away in a single, merciless instant.

Your mind raced, leaping to thoughts of your future—or what little was left of it. Everything you’d worked for, everything you’d dreamed of, felt like it was slipping through your fingers, unraveling faster than you could piece it back together. You could see the edges of your life falling away. Your education, your home, the support you once took for granted. All of it was disappearing, leaving only the stark reality of an uncertain path ahead.

You clenched your hands, digging your nails into your palms to anchor yourself, trying to stave off the wave of despair building inside you. It felt like your world was caving in, each piece of your carefully planned life crumbling in a way that seemed beyond repair.

Your brother shifted beside you, breaking the silence as he cleared his throat, his face etched with worry. He reached out a tentative hand, hovering as if unsure whether to comfort you or respect the fragile space you’d created between yourself and your emotions.

Your brother’s hand finally found your shoulder, his touch gentle but grounding. His silence spoke louder than words, and for a moment, it was all you could rely on. Even though he didn’t know what to say, his presence gave you something solid to hold onto in the midst of the chaos unraveling inside you.

“You don’t have to leave,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “They’re just… angry. They’ll come around. Maybe if we just talk to them tomorrow, things will calm down.”

You shook your head, the harsh reality already settling into place. “No, Suguru.. you heard them. They were serious. They want me gone.”

He looked down, his brows knitted together in frustration. “But where will you go? You can’t just… be out there by yourself.” The helplessness in his voice mirrored your own fear, but even he didn’t have a solution.

You glanced around your room—the bed you’d grown up in, the books you’d loved and underlined, the photos on the wall capturing fragments of happier moments, times when things were simpler, manageable. Each item felt like a piece of the life you were about to lose, like a museum of memories that would soon be locked away from you forever.

The silence between you and your brother grew heavy, and as much as you wanted to break it, words failed you. What could you say? That you’d made a mistake? That you hadn’t meant for any of this to happen? (You hadn‘t) But they all sounded hollow, too small to carry the weight of what you were facing.

Finally, your brother spoke, his voice determined. “You don’t have to do this alone. We’ll figure something out. You can live at my apartment—until you have a plan, at least. I don‘t really use it, so don‘t worry. I’ll help you. Whatever you need, I’ll be here.”

His words offered a sliver of hope, but even as you nodded, uncertainty lingered. You knew your brother meant well, but deep down, you both understood how complicated it would be for him to go against your parents’ wishes. They’d raised him with the same expectations, the same rules—and while his heart was with you, his loyalty was torn.

But still, the idea of having somewhere to go, even if only temporarily, softened the blow just enough for you to breathe.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely audible, but your gratitude was genuine. You reached for him, wrapping your arms around him tightly. The hug was the only comfort you had at that moment, the only thing anchoring you against the overwhelming feeling of loss and uncertainty.

After a long silence, he pulled back slightly, his face determined. “Go pack a few things. Whatever you need tonight. We’ll get out of here quietly. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Gojo leaned back in his chair, the squeak of the metal legs against the floor barely audible over the low murmur of his classmates. He absentmindedly tapped a pen against his notebook, the rhythmic click-click of it matching the unease simmering in his chest. His gaze drifted out the classroom window, where the afternoon sun cast long shadows on the pavement. It had been weeks since he’d last seen you, and that last encounter in the classroom felt like it had happened yesterday, every moment still vividly etched in his mind.

He recalled the way the quiet hum of the school’s empty corridors amplified every sound—the soft, breathy gasps you made, the rush of your breathing as he pressed you against the cool surface of the wall. It was intoxicating, each detail replaying in his head like a film on repeat. But oddly enough, it pained him that he hadn’t seen you since then.

At first, he shrugged it off, convincing himself that you were just playing hard-to-get or perhaps needed some space after everything that had happened. After all, it wasn’t uncommon for someone to need time to collect themselves after an encounter with him— he had that effect on people. But as the days turned into weeks, that initial dismissal turned into a dull, nagging worry that gnawed at him.

Gojo tried to push the thoughts aside, telling himself that you’d show up eventually, that it was just a phase. But your absence had created an odd emptiness in his daily routine, a persistent itch he couldn’t quite scratch. He was used to you being there, your presence a strange but comforting constant, and now that comfort was replaced with a gnawing curiosity.

Then there was Suguru, your brother, whose steady presence at school made everything feel even stranger. He carried on with his day as though nothing had changed, greeting Gojo with his usual casual indifference, yet he never mentioned you. Gojo found himself watching Suguru more closely than he intended, searching for any hint or sign that might explain your absence. He could feel the itch of curiosity clawing at him, but part of him resisted asking outright. He didn’t want to seem like he cared too much, but every time he spotted Suguru without you, that curiosity intensified.

Had something happened to you? Did you get sick? Or had you simply decided to avoid him? The thought was uncomfortably unsettling, and he brushed it aside, frustrated with himself for even considering it.

It was frustrating. Gojo couldn’t quite understand why you were occupying so much of his mind. At first, he tried to blame it on Suguru—your brother was a constant reminder of you, after all—but he’d grown accustomed to that long ago. It wasn’t like him to fixate on anyone, especially someone who usually melted into the background. And yet, here he was, replaying that last encounter in his mind, scanning hallways, and lingering just a bit longer outside your classes, hoping to catch a glimpse of you.

He could chalk it up to boredom, a simple distraction to stave off the monotony of his day-to-day life. But deep down, he knew that there was something more than that. The thrill of teasing you, the way your face would scrunch up in irritation when he pushed you down in the hallways—it was strangely addictive. You had become his little victim, a source of amusement that made the slow days feel bearable. Now that you were gone, it left a void he couldn’t fill.

He hated admitting it, but he missed picking on you. The thought made his jaw clench, and a twisted grin crept across his face. Maybe he’d overestimated his hold over you, convinced that you would always be there for him to mess with. Or perhaps this was some kind of game you were playing, deliberately making him feel your absence, and it annoyed him even more.

Days continued to pass without a sign of you, and then, one morning, Suguru didn’t show up to school. Gojo was caught off guard by the emptiness in the usual spots where he’d see his friend. Normally, Suguru was as dependable as clockwork, always showing up right on time, effortlessly composed and ready to move through the day. Gojo couldn’t help but feel a strange twist in his stomach, wondering if something had happened. Maybe Suguru’s absence was tied to yours?

When Suguru finally returned the next day, he looked…off. His usually neat hair was slightly disheveled, his clothes a bit rumpled. There was an exhausted heaviness in his steps, and dark shadows under his eyes made him look as though he hadn’t slept all night. Gojo’s eyes followed him as he trudged through the school halls, quieter than usual, avoiding small talk and slipping into his seat without so much as a glance at anyone.

It was unlike Suguru to be this way. He barely looked up during the lunch break, barely mumbled a response when someone tried to talk to him. And Gojo could feel the unspoken weight hanging over him like a shadow—an air of tension, of something strained and unresolved. It made Gojo’s curiosity burn even stronger, a gnawing need to know what had happened.

But when Gojo finally approached him, Suguru only glanced up, his gaze tired and distant, and muttered a soft, “Not today, Satoru.” There was a finality in his tone, a closed-off energy that Gojo hadn’t seen before. It was clear that Suguru was carrying something heavy, something he wasn’t ready—or willing—to share.

And somehow, that only made his thoughts drift back to you. The emptiness left by your absence grew sharper, more pointed, and with it came a sinking feeling that whatever was happening with Suguru…was connected to you.

Gojo scoffed, shaking his head at himself as he tried to push thoughts of you aside. Why was he even letting you get to him? It wasn’t like him to dwell on anyone, let alone someone who’d gone MIA after a single hookup. He had more important things to think about—better distractions to keep himself entertained. Besides, if you were going to play hard-to-get or whatever this was, then that was on you.

With a lazy smirk, he glanced around the classroom, letting his gaze settle on a few familiar faces. Plenty of girls would kill for his attention— he didn’t need to waste any more time thinking about you. He’d spent weeks hoping for some sign of you, but maybe it was time he reminded himself of how easy it was to move on.

After class, he slipped out of the room, his stride slow and confident as he scanned the hallways. Within minutes, he found what he was looking for—an upperclassman lingering by her locker, eyeing him with a coy smile. He’d seen her around before, noticed the way her gaze lingered whenever he passed by.

Perfect.

With a quick sweep of his hair, he put on that easy charm, the one that always drew people in, and walked over, leaning casually against the lockers beside her. “Hey,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “Long day?”

The girl blinked, caught off guard for a second before her lips curled into a smile. “Not anymore,” she replied, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

Gojo grinned, already shifting into the familiar rhythm of flirting that he knew so well. Within moments, they were leaning close, sharing secretive whispers and low laughs, her hand resting on his arm as she hung onto every word he said. He had a way of making them feel special, as if they were the only person in the world. He knew exactly what to say, how to let his gaze linger just long enough to make them squirm.

As he let the conversation drift into something more suggestive, he found himself glancing around, almost instinctively, half-expecting to catch a glimpse of you walking by. He mentally cursed himself for it, forcing himself to focus on the girl in front of him, but there was still that nagging sense of dissatisfaction. Even though he had her wrapped around his finger, it didn’t feel quite the same. She was willing, easy, and there was no thrill, no challenge. It felt…hollow.

For a moment, he wondered if this was just another way to forget you, a way to scratch an itch that wasn’t going away as easily as he’d hoped. The idea bothered him, and he dismissed it as quickly as it came. You didn’t matter—he was Gojo Satoru. He had girls practically throwing themselves at him every day. There was no reason he should be hung up on you.

The apartment was quiet—too quiet. Days slipped by in a gray monotony as you tried to settle into a space that felt as foreign as a stranger’s closet. There was nothing in the room that felt like you, just the sparse furniture your brother had left behind: a sagging couch with sunken cushions, a bed pushed awkwardly against the wall, and a handful of mismatched kitchen items. There were no family photos, no cozy blankets, not even a single potted plant to add life to the place. It was a hollow shell, his empty, seldom-used apartment, and now it was yours—a place to hide, but far from a home.

When you first came here, you thought you might be able to reach out, maybe even find comfort in a friend’s familiar voice. But the silence on the other end of the line grew heavier with each unanswered message. Some of your texts were left unread, others were marked “seen” and ignored. You’d started to convince yourself that somehow, they knew. They had to know about your mistake, your situation, and it was easier for them to turn away than to get involved. You could almost imagine their silent judgment, the whispers they might share when you weren’t around.

You felt backed into a corner, as if the world had abandoned you just when you needed it most. The shame felt insurmountable, an invisible wall that stopped you from trying again, that convinced you this loneliness was what you deserved.

You could barely feel it —the life inside you, growing silently, quietly, but undeniably there. Sometimes, you’d catch yourself resting a hand on your stomach without even realizing, feeling for something that wasn’t quite there yet, but knowing soon it would be. A thousand questions swirled in your mind. What kind of life would this child have? Would they hate you for the world you brought them into, for the choices you’d made that they would have to live with? The thought was like a chill running through your veins, paralyzing and real in a way nothing else was.

Then, late at night, as the hours stretched out, other thoughts would creep in—thoughts you tried to push away, but that stubbornly returned. Abortion. You felt the word like a weight in your chest, a tightness that you couldn’t swallow, but that was always there. In the dead silence of the apartment, you sometimes let yourself entertain the thought, if only for a moment, thinking how much easier it might be to turn away from this path. But then the guilt would wash over you, sinking deeper with every beat of your heart. It was a decision you couldn’t bring yourself to make, no matter how overwhelming everything felt.

You weren’t even sure you could hold your own life together, let alone bring another one into it. You hated feeling so trapped, as though every choice led to pain, no matter what you did. The idea of being a mother, of taking on this monumental responsibility, filled you with a dread that was hard to admit. It was as if each new day only added to a burden you were too afraid to carry yet too scared to set down. The future felt murky and shadowed, a looming unknown that swallowed up every glimmer of hope.

Sometimes, you’d find yourself standing by the window, gazing down at the quiet, dimly lit street below, lost in thoughts of an alternate life. What would it feel like to walk away from all this weight, to leave the fear and uncertainty behind? You let yourself imagine it—a life where you were free again, unburdened. But even as the fantasy flickered in your mind, there was a small, stubborn part of you that held on, that whispered maybe. Maybe you could carry this through. Maybe, despite everything, you could find a way to make this work.

To keep yourself grounded, you tried to build a routine. Every morning, you’d scroll through endless job listings, though each one felt like a reminder of the uncertainty surrounding you. Most positions didn’t seem right or possible for you now, but you kept looking. It was something to hold onto, some kind of structure when everything else felt like it was slipping through your fingers. You even organized the sparse kitchen, setting up the cabinets with a kind of precise care, as if putting things in order on the outside could bring some calm to the chaos inside.

One evening, as you sat cross-legged on the couch, the hum of distant traffic barely filled the silence. You stared at your phone screen, absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on the couch cushion. Loneliness settled over you, thick and heavy, amplified by the silence that had become so familiar. It was almost stifling, forcing you to confront thoughts you’d tried hard to avoid.

You missed your family, even if things between you had become strained. You missed the comforting predictability of home, the familiar sounds, the routine. Here, each day felt hollow and directionless, like floating in a fog with no sense of where you were headed. Sometimes, you’d sit there waiting, hoping for something to change, some sign that things would be okay, but the realization that it was entirely up to you weighed heavily.

A knock at the door jolted you out of your thoughts, sharp and unexpected in the stillness. Your heart gave a nervous jump as you hesitated, then forced yourself to cross the room. The apartment was usually so quiet, every sound amplified in the emptiness, and this interruption felt almost intrusive. Taking a breath to steady yourself, you opened the door to see the mailman standing there, holding a small, official-looking envelope in his hand.

“Here you go. Have a nice day,” he said with a nod, handing it over before turning to leave.

You mumbled a thank-you, barely audible, closing the door slowly as you stared down at the envelope. The stiff paper, the way your name was printed in impersonal black ink—it all radiated a sense of cold formality that sent a wave of dread curling in your stomach. You tore it open with shaking hands, telling yourself it was probably just another notice, a formality from the school.

But as your eyes scanned the letter, a sickening realization washed over you. It wasn’t just a reminder or a request for information. It was a notification—a final, official statement that you’d been dropped from school because of unpaid tuition. Your parents had stopped covering your fees without any warning, leaving the balance unpaid. And because you hadn’t attended in weeks, the school had processed it as a withdrawal.

You read the words again, trying to make sense of them, as if they would change on a second pass. But they stayed the same, cold and unyielding, spelling out a reality you hadn’t prepared for. The letter offered no alternatives, no appeal. Either you somehow paid the balance yourself, or you would be permanently removed from the roster.

A numb disbelief settled over you as you sank onto the couch, clutching the letter tightly. They’d actually done it. They’d cut you off without a word, leaving you adrift, stripped of the one place you’d thought you could depend on. A mix of anger and hurt bubbled up inside you, but the betrayal was what stung the most.

Your mind raced, thoughts colliding in a frantic spiral. What would you do now? Leaving school meant giving up on so many things—dreams you’d quietly held onto, plans that seemed so certain not long ago. It was like everything you’d worked toward, every late night studying and early morning hustle, had been erased in an instant. This wasn’t just a setback— it felt like a wall you’d crashed into with no way around.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you swallowed them back, forcing yourself to press your lips into a hard line. There was no one you could turn to for help, no one who could wave a magic wand and fix this.

You sat there on the couch, feeling the weight of the letter in your hand like a stone, its meaning sinking in deeper and deeper. The room seemed even colder, emptier, as if the walls themselves were closing in on you. Every step you’d taken had been building toward something, and now that path was gone, wiped away in the span of a single letter.

No matter what mistakes you’d made, you’d never expected your own family to cut you off 𝐬𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲. You wanted to scream, to call them, to make them hear you and see what they’d done—but that door felt closed too, like an argument already lost. The bitter realization settled in— of course they weren’t going to reach out- they weren’t going to help. Afterall, they were the ones that kicked you out in the first place.

You glanced down at your phone, your fingers hovering over the screen as you debated sending another message to one of your friends. Maybe you could explain everything, maybe they’d understand, maybe they’d reach back and give you a lifeline. But a familiar fear held you back. The weight of your situation, your mistake, felt too heavy to burden anyone else with, and every time you imagined reaching out, a voice in the back of your mind reminded you that they hadn’t been there for you before. Why would they be there now?

The silence in the apartment grew louder, pressing in on you until it was almost unbearable. Desperate for a distraction, you got up and wandered aimlessly through the small space, moving things around on the counter, straightening the already-neat cupboards, just doing anything to keep your hands busy. But the distraction was short-lived, and the reality of your situation crept back in.

The future felt terrifyingly empty, an open void where all your plans used to be. The only clear thing was that you had no other choice now but to figure this out on your own. Slowly, a stubborn resolve began to build beneath the panic. You were here, alone, but that didn’t mean you had to stay stuck. Maybe, somehow, you could make this work. You could find a job, save up, find a way to get back into school. It felt like an impossible task, but it was the only path left.

With a deep breath, you grabbed your laptop and opened up a job-search site, scrolling through the endless list of options. Most were dead ends—part-time retail or night shifts that didn’t even pay enough to cover the rent suguru is payinh. But you forced yourself to keep looking, moving through page after page, searching for anything that might be a start, a way forward.

The hours slipped by, the weight of the decision settling over you like a cold blanket, but you kept scrolling, kept hoping that something would spark the possibility of change.

After what felt like hours scrolling through listings and filling out applications, your eyes grew tired, the screen blurring in front of you. You needed air, space to breathe, to feel something other than the weight pressing down on your chest. With a sigh, you closed your laptop, abandoning it on the couch, and made your way over to the small balcony just off the living room.

Stepping outside, you were greeted by the crisp night air, a chill that wrapped around you, cutting through the dullness. The street below was quiet, dim streetlights casting long shadows across the empty pavement. Leaning against the railing, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, letting the cold settle into your skin, grounding you, if only for a moment. The city felt vast from here, stretching out endlessly, full of people going about their lives, yet here you were, feeling like the only one left adrift.

As you opened your eyes, you gazed out over the neighborhood, the distant hum of cars a low, steady comfort. For a fleeting moment, you felt a strange sense of freedom, as if up here on this balcony, the problems inside couldn’t quite reach you. It was quiet, peaceful even, the world below carrying on, oblivious to your struggles.

You’d imagined such a different future, one where you’d be surrounded by friends, pursuing your passions, finding yourself. But now? It all felt like a distant memory, something that had happened to someone else entirely.

The sky above was cloudy, with only a few stars managing to peek through. You stared up, trying to find some kind of sign, something to remind you that you weren’t entirely alone, that maybe there was still a chance for things to change.

You stayed there a while, letting the cold numb the tension in your body, staring into the distance, thinking about what you’d do next. The thought of reaching out for help gnawed at you, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to take that step. Maybe it was pride, or maybe it was just the fear of rejection. Either way, you knew that whatever came next would be up to you.

Your gaze drifted downward, tracing the shapes of the buildings, the shadows cast by streetlights, when a familiar flash of white caught your eye. Your heart clenched involuntarily. Gojo.

He was strolling down the sidewalk, his stride as arrogant and carefree as ever, his laughter echoing faintly up toward you. His arm was draped around the shoulders of a girl who leaned into him, her face turned up toward him with a bright smile, entirely captivated. They looked close, intimate, like they were the only two people in the world. Watching them, a dull ache pulsed in your chest, stirring a cocktail of emotions you didn’t want to face.

You gripped the railing tighter, your knuckles whitening. Memories clawed their way up, memories of him—of his smirk, his mocking words, the way he’d cornered you like he had every right. Gojo had always been cruel, but he wielded his charm like a weapon, drawing people in only to watch them squirm when he showed his true colors. He had treated you the same way, toying with you, using you, and then discarding you without a second thought.

The girl beside him had no idea, you thought bitterly. She was seeing the Gojo who played his part so well, the smooth talker, the charmer, the boy who seemed like he could do no wrong. But you knew better. You knew what lay beneath that mask, the callousness he could hide behind his easy smiles. And now, there he was, laughing without a care, completely untouched by everything he’d done to you, while you were left to piece yourself back together.

A cold, bitter anger welled up inside you, mingling with the helplessness you tried so hard to ignore. He had stolen something from you—something you could never get back. He is the reason you got kicked out and have a hard life now.

And yet here he was, walking down the street as if nothing had happened, as if you didn’t exist, a careless reminder of how easily he’d been able to walk away from the pain he’d caused.

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tikitakatia · 23 days ago

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Louvre — A. Putellas x Reader

WC: 2k

Summary: Alexia wasn’t supposed to enjoy the museum tour, but somehow, she finds herself booking another one.

Alexia was already plotting her escape.

She’d barely stepped out of the Olympic village before regretting every decision that led her here. Not to Paris, not to the Olympics, but to this detour. Her teammates, running on impulse and questionable group logic, decided that they just had to visit the Louvre today, specifically the Egyptian wing. Apparently, team bonding now involves learning about mummification techniques. She supposes it might come in handy the next time the refs let a clear penalty slide.

Jenni was practically bouncing like a child that was fed too much sugar. Misa, who´s now fully immersed in her TikTok influencer era, was narrating every step like it was meant to be a viral trend. Irene and Laia had been arguing for ten straight minutes over whether ancient Egyptians worshipped cats or just really liked them. Alexia, meanwhile, was weighing her options: fake an emergency, claim sudden heat exhaustion, or just disappear quietly and hope no one noticed until she was already at the beach volleyball courts. Anything to escape another hour of 'team bonding.'

And that’s how you meet her.

You.

The tour guide. Underpaid, over-caffeinated, and radiating the kind of forced enthusiasm usually reserved for theme park employees in August. You spot them immediately, voice slightly too loud, smile a little too tight and donning Olympic gear acting like it makes them blend in. It doesn’t.

But then there’s her.

Leaning against a wall like it's personally inconveniencing her, arms folded with precision, brow set in a permanent state of "don’t even try me." She's wearing sunglasses indoors, not the oversized fashion kind, but the 'I’ve made a conscious decision to block all of this out' kind. You can’t tell if she's a chaperone, a coach, or just someone who took a wrong turn and is now emotionally trapped in the Egyptian wing. She doesn't speak, doesn't move, and yet somehow broadcasts a full essay titled I Would Rather Be Literally Anywhere Else.

You recognize that look. You’ve seen it on grumpy dads stuck at brunch, teenagers at family reunions, and one duchess at a ribbon-cutting ceremony who clearly wanted to set the building on fire. Whoever she is, she looked like she was more interested in being a mummy than learning about one.

“Welcome to the Louvre!" you announce, voice a little too bright, in that tone that screams, I am seconds away from losing it, but I’m smiling through the existential crisis anyway. You quickly scan their name tags and IDs to familiarize yourself, then your eyes land on the bored-looking blonde in sunglasses like a magnet. You read her nametag, Alexia, and give her another look. This is going to be a fun tour.

You kick off the tour in the section which also happèns to be your comfort zone. Not because you’re obsessed with mummies or anything, but because, let’s face it, the statues can’t talk back. And thank God for that, because if they could, they’d probably ask you the same stupid questions a thousand times a day. You launch into your usual spiel about the Rosetta Stone replica, spewing out facts you’ve memorized so well you’re pretty sure they’ve been burned into your DNA at this point. It's automatic. It's almost robotic. But hey, it’s a job. And you’re doing it.

But then you glance at her again. There she is in the back, looking like she was about to fall asleep on her feet. And then, just to top it off, you swear she yawns, and not just a casual yawn. No, no. It’s an audacious yawn. A yawn so big it could eclipse the entire museum´s collection, making you wonder if maybe she's part of some secret society of people who can’t be impressed by 3,000-year-old artifacts. The audacity of this woman.

You’re speechless for a second, standing there in utter disbelief, but you quickly recover.

Cool. Challenge accepted.

You lower your voice, just enough so only Alexia can hear. "This," you say, pointing to a funerary mask, "is believed to have been worn by ancient Egyptians to help hide their resting bitch face better than sunglasses."

Alexia’s eyebrows twitch slightly, like she's trying to hold back a smile. But as if in a last-ditch attempt to remain emotionally unaffected, she shoots you a look over her shades like you just told her the pyramids were built by camels.

You go on, unphased. "And this one here? The Anubis statue? Guardian of the afterlife. Also the first to popularize the smokey eye."

This time, she snorts.

"What was that?" Irene turns to look at her.

"Nothing," Alexia mutters, smoothing her face, her tone trying to hide the crack in her defenses.

You keep walking, dropping facts with the precision of someone who’s learned to keep this whole ‘tour guide’ thing going while simultaneously amusing themselves. Each one is aimed only at Alexia, like a game where the only rule is you have to try not to laugh.

"This papyrus scroll here? Early tax evasion forms."

"The sarcophagus? Absolutely cursed. By bad interior design."

"This entire wing? Sponsored by ancient trauma."

Each remark is met with an involuntary sound from Alexia. A laugh under her breath, an incredulous look, but she’s fighting it. Or at least, she’s trying to.

When you finally stop in front of the cat goddess Bastet, you can tell her teammates are trying to drag her out. You let them get just far enough away before you drop your next fact.

She’s still hovering, clearly trying to pull her composure together. "She protected households," you say, low again, "and invented knocking things off tables for sport."

Alexia glares at you, still fighting a smile. You can see she’s getting close to breaking so you point to a bunch of hieroglyphs on the wall.

You lean in, voice dropping just enough for her to hear. "And this one right here? Says ‘send nudes.’"

This time, there’s no stopping it. Alexia bursts into laughter, a loud, uncontrollable laugh that echoes through the room. Her teammates freeze, turning around to stare at her like she’s suddenly grown a second head.

"Alexia?" Jenni calls out, blinking in confusion.

Alexia just shakes her head, still laughing. "Nothing," she says, but the smile on her face gives her away.

Her teammates look confused, but you can see Alexia's walls crumbling. Her laughter starts to die down, and as she tries to compose herself, she bites her lip and shoots you a look.

"You’re making that up," she says, still trying to act all tough, but there's no hiding the grin tugging at her lips.

"Absolutely. But you believed me for half a second," you reply, unable to resist the smug satisfaction of getting under her skin.

She gives you a crooked smile, shaking her head in resignation, then turns to follow her teammates as they finally drag her out of the exhibit.

Two days later, your inbox pings.

Private Louvre tour request. Olympic Committee. Egyptian wing. No name.

You frown. Weird. Could be anyone. Could be another team of tourists who will complain about anything under the sun. Could be your worst nightmare. Who knows?

You show up anyway.

And there she is. Leaning against a column like this is now her new second home. The others are behind her, looking like they’ve just come off a 5-day hike through the Louvre's entire collection of obscure art. Clearly, they’re not happy to be here.

"You again?" you say, with a raised eyebrow, pretending you don’t already know exactly what’s going on.

"Missed your historical slander," Alexia says, deadpan, as if this is a normal thing to say to a tour guide.

Jenni groans dramatically from the back. "She literally made us cancel lunch for this."

They look like they’re already regretting their life choices, but you’re already leading them through the Greek wing, statues galore.

You lean closer to Alexia, dropping your voice just enough so only she hears. "This guy? Zeus. Massive ego. Turned into a swan to seduce someone. Because, you know, consent was apparently optional for ancient gods."

She raises an eyebrow, completely unamused. "A swan?"

"Yeah," you say, nodding seriously. "The original bird app."

You swear you hear her snort, and it’s louder than before, like she’s giving up on pretending to be unimpressed.

The others start to notice, slowly turning their heads toward the sound.

"You’re actually enjoying this," Irene says with a gasp, pointing at Alexia in disbelief. "Last week you said museums are just fancy sleeping areas."

"Shut up," Alexia mutters under her breath, trying to hide the smile that’s clearly threatening to crack her icy exterior.

"You made fun of me for liking art," Laia adds, half-shocked, half-amused.

"Still do," Alexia says without missing a beat. "But this guide lies better than you flirt."

You cough, covering up a laugh, but it’s clear you’ve won this round.

A few days later, another anonymous booking. This time, the Renaissance wing.

Olympic Committee. No name. But you’re not even surprised anymore.

You walk in. And there she is. Again. Waiting alone.

"Just you today?" you ask, trying to sound casual, like you’re not secretly a little excited.

"They're recovering," she says, her face completely straight.

"From art?" you ask, eyebrow raised.

"From me dragging them to three tours in a week," she admits, sounding almost proud of herself.

You grin. "Addicted to my lies now?"

"Something like that."

You step into the Renaissance section, ready to drop some fresh facts on the poor souls who just so happen to be standing next to you.

"Here we have the Mona Lisa," you announce dramatically. "Famously small. Famously smug. Fun fact: she’s actually judging you for your fashion choices."

Alexia stands next to you, arms almost brushing. Her lips twitch. "She looks like she’s holding in a fart."

You turn to her, mock-shocked. "How dare you. That’s the mother of all memes right there."

You move on and she follows, clearly enjoying herself.

"This one was painted with real lapis lazuli. Extremely rare. Also the reason blue pens exist today."

"That true?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

You shrug casually. "Fifty-fifty. But it sounds good, right?"

She leans in a little closer. "Tell me more fake facts."

It keeps happening. More anonymous bookings. More sarcastic commentary. More time with her.

You start branching out. The Medieval section. The Islamic Art wing. Even the random furniture gallery.

"This chair once belonged to Napoleon. He sat on it after every failed date."

"These tiles were early prototypes for IKEA."

"This painting? Definitely haunted. But only if you yawn too loud near it."

Alexia eats it all up, each remark leaving you with the satisfaction of knowing you’ve cracked her tough exterior. Every smirk, every eye-roll you earn feels like a win.

By the sixth visit, Jenni finally confronts her.

"You realize you’ve seen more of the Louvre than the football field by now, right?"

Alexia rolls her eyes, unbothered. "It’s educational."

"You're flirting," Jenni presses, smirking.

"Shut up," Alexia says, but there’s a hint of a smile on her lips. She’s not fooling anyone.

After one particularly long tour through the Islamic Art section ("This calligraphy? Probably a 600-year-old text complaining about tourists"), Alexia lingers, pretending like she’s just inspecting the exhibits.

"Do you ever get tired of walking people through here?" she asks, leaning against a display like she’s been doing this her whole life.

"Not when they make weird faces at 12th-century tiles," you respond, smirking.

"I wasn’t making a weird face," she says, defending herself.

"You looked like you were trying to decode IKEA instructions in Arabic."

She laughs, and it's full this time. No hiding it. Her shoulders shake with genuine amusement. She leans in, her voice dropping just enough for you to hear.

"Okay. So what if I said I wanted a private tour... outside the Louvre?"

You blink, half-laughing, half-confused. "Like... a date?"

She pretends to think about it, looking up at the ceiling for dramatic effect. "Let’s call it a cultural exchange."

"That sounds suspiciously like Olympic Committee phrasing," you reply, raising an eyebrow.

She shrugs, completely unphased. "I can pull strings."

You shake your head, smiling. "Fine. But only if you promise to fact-check me."

"Never. That’s half the fun," she grins.

You grin right back. "God, you’re the most stubborn museum convert I’ve ever met."

"And yet..." she steps closer, voice quiet but playful. "Your favorite."

You don’t argue.

Because she is.

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dredgesnails · 1 year ago

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stardew valley au where joel and skizz are new residents to pelican town (hermit town?). joel just inherited a large farm from his late grandfather and skizz is moving in with his old friend after reconnecting with him and wanting a fresh start. and the townspeople are like, kinda weird.

bdubs is fine enough - he’s a sweet man with a fun personality and he’s the local builder, but it’s almost frightening how fast he constructs new buildings when joel needs them. pearl, their resident postmaster, is also pretty normal other than the fact that skizz never seems to be awake early enough to catch her delivering mail. scar is lovely but he’s never available when joel wants another chicken. the mayor, xisuma, is pleasant too, if a little eccentric at times, but he doesn’t really seem to do much in town.

for the most part, skizz is settling in well. he’s moved in with impulse, who runs the local blacksmith in town, and he gets along well with most of the local townspeople. he’s started spending his evenings at the local saloon listening to ren regale the patrons with fantastical tales while he and stress serve up food and drinks, and he finds himself growing close with cleo, the local sculptor. he even gets a new wardrobe from hypno free of charge, and sometimes helps cub out with his totally scientific studies and creations.

skizz also joins forces with beef (who helps to supply the local general store that xb and keralis run) in terrorising the local manager of the corporate chain grocery store that no one likes. doc is a terrible manager but would make a fun supervillain (according to joe hills, the bookseller who appears once in a blue moon but seems to know doc more than anyone in town).

joel, on the other hand, seems to only be interacting with the strangest residents in town. he discovers the adventurer’s guild after only a couple weeks. false promises to give him prizes if he can kill enough monsters, which is not something joel had expected to be doing when he pictured farm life, but here he is. he stumbles upon a travelling cart one day, and the man inside insists he’s a knight from a faraway land, that he risked his life to make it all the way here to sell his wares. it’s all stuff joel can get cheaper elsewhere.

he’s pretty sure the local doctor has no real medical training, but then he passes out while fighting monsters and he wakes up completely fine, so zedaph probably knows what he’s doing. maybe. when joel isn’t passing out he sometimes makes trips to the library-slash-museum, which is probably almost completely empty because mumbo, who begs joel for anything to display, looks like he’s never fought a duggie in his life. eventually mumbo gives joel a key to the sewers, which are way cooler than they have any right to be, and that’s where he finds jevin’s secret sewer shop. jevin lives in town. he just also has a shop hidden underground. joel has stopped asking questions by now.

and then there are the three who live by the beach. etho spends most of his time tinkering around the fishing hut or hovering around bdubs, but sometimes he drives the bus to the desert. only sometimes. there might be something under his mask. no one knows for sure. gem runs the fish shop most days and she claims she’s a sailor, but joel has never seen a single working boat around despite all the ocean. she can also hold her breath underwater for an uncannily long amount of time, like, scarily so, and will sometimes disappear for a few days and return with an abundance of treasures. joel has never seen her leave by boat. grian fishes a lot and runs the shop when gem can’t, and he sometimes talks as though the sea can speak to him. skizz has caught him staring into space for extended periods of time. one time he waded into the water and just stood there, head down, muttering to himself.

apparently there used to be a lighthouse but “it’s gone now”. gem says if they ask bdubs nicely enough maybe they can build another one, but she and grian are banned from build requests after the last incident with their pet snails (joel has never seen the snails, but scar complains about them enough to convince him they’re real).

there also might be some kind of wizard who lives in the creepy tower in the woods. skizz has heard he’s the one who helps maintain the power in the valley, and joel’s convinced he hallucinated seeing him once until he recieves a letter from the wizard himself, and visits him only to find that the strange fire-creature he saw that one time was, in fact, tango, who is human for the most part, he just sets himself on fire sometimes.

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princessfanonanona · 3 months ago

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Touring Babel - An Infinite Realms Remix Fic

Mr. Lancer planned for a simple field trip to the museum. He wasn't expecting to find himself and the entire class in the ghost zone, looking up at a mythological architectural landmark. He really should just accept the ghostly interference.

The class wanders in a loose cluster after Mr. Lancer on their way towards the museum through the parking lot.

“Excuse me, Mr. Lancer?” Danny raises his hand, shifting from foot to foot.

Mr. Lancer sighs the sigh of the aggrieved. He stops walking ahead of the group, turning to look at Danny.

“Yes, Mr. Fenton?” he asks.

“I know we just got off the bus, but I think we should go back.”

“And why is that?”

“That’s not a museum,” he points to the marble building ahead of them.

“Of course it’s the museum,” Mr. Lancer can’t help but scoff. “I think I would recognize…”

He trails off when he turns to look up at the towering structure. “That’s not a museum.”

The round tower of marble stretches higher than any skyscraper, tapering upwards until the top disappears into the clouds above.

The class gape upwards before looking around.

The once clear blue sky has been replaced with green. Purple clouds gather around the tower, drifting by lazily. The parking lot, once filled with other cars, is now nothing but a sparse field with scattered clumps of weeds and wildflowers. The bus they had just disembarked from has become a pile of stones.

“Paradise Lost!” Mr. Lancer declares quietly. “Where are we?”

“Too late,” Danny sighs.

“Danny?” Tucker sidles up, still staring up at the tower. “What in the actual fuck.”

“Transient portal? Maybe?” he shrugs. He glances around his class, “the real question is how do we get back?”

“Fentina, is this your loser parents’ fault?” Dash practically shouts from the other side of the group.

“They haven’t built anything new, so no,” a shiver goes down his spine making him gasp. He frowns, turning to glare at the empty field beside them, “but now I think I do know what started this.”

“Hello, Daniel and company,” Clockwork greets, fading into view, looking older than usual.

Danny throws his hands up in a WTF way at the ghost.

“Welcome to the Tower of Babel, please, enjoy your visit,” they offer an enigmatic smile before disappearing into the mists.

The class erupts into confusion and panic.

“Now, now,” Mr. Lancer declares loudly, “let’s all calm down.”

“Calm down?” Kwan cries in dismay, “we’ve been kidnapped by a ghost!”

Dash pushes through the crowd to grab Danny by his shirt front, “this is your fault, get us home!”

“Enough!” Mr. Lancer shouts, making his way to the boys to separate them. “There is no blaming anyone! We are going to calmly evaluate the situation-”

“That creepy ghost knew Danny,” Star says, “how else would we end up here if they didn’t know him?”

“Hey, sorry, can we get back to the fact that we’re at the Tower of Babel?” Sam asks, stepping forward. “You know, the ancient city where all of humanity was once unified in language and culture?”

Mr. Lancer frowns, “that would be relevant if it were true, but I would hardly believe the words of an apparition.”

Sam looks to Danny, gesturing towards the building.

Danny makes a face at her before turning to Tucker.

Tucker shakes his head, holding his hands up to make an X with them and takes a small step backwards.

Danny looks back at Sam and holds his palms up.

Sam gestures at the tower again.

“My prophetic bladder says it is the Tower of Babel,” he says.

Mr. Lancer gapes at him.

“Would you prefer if it was the Hanging Garden of Babylon?” Danny asks.

“I would prefer if we were at the Natural History Museum,” Mr. Lancer says.

“Hey guys!” Mikey calls from the top of the steps near the arching doorway. “They have a tour guide ready for us!”

Danny exchanges a glance with Tucker before jogging across the distance.

“Wait!” Mr. Lancer calls after him, “you need to stay with the group!”

“Oh, Sinilis!” Danny greets, spotting the green ghost, “I thought you were at the Library?”

“Hello, sir,” the scholarly ghost bows his head in greeting, “I have been assigned to guide you and your companions today.”

“You know him?” Mikey asks, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Uh…” Danny blanches, he glances back at the class who have moved closer. “Sorta.”

“You know its name.”

“His name,” Sam says. “He’s not an it.”

“How do you know him, then?”

“He has a name tag,” Danny says.

Sinilis taps his chest under the pin that spells out his name and preferred pronouns in Hittite.

“That’s not even- holy shit I can read that!” Mikey exclaims. “How can I read that?”

“That would be the power of Bāb-ilim, wherein the separation of cultures have been erased,” Sinilis explains. “Will the rest of your group be joining us then?”

“I think it would be more informative than the museum,” Sam says.

“Will you please stop running off on your own, we need to stay together,” Mr. Lancer says, making his way up the steps. The rest of the class hovers at the bottom. “Oh wonderful, another ghost.”

“Hello sir,” Sinilis bows his head in greeting, “my name is Sinilis, a scholar of the Great Library of Alexandria and have been assigned to be your guide through the City of Bāb-ilim today.”

“That’s great, but we really should be on our way-” he freezes, the previous statement finally processing. “The what library?”

“The Great Library of Alexandria,” Sinilis repeats. “If I recall, that will be your next group trip should today’s tour prove successful.”

Mr. Lancer falters. Dash, who had snuck up behind them, catches him from falling as his foot slips on the step.

“Whoa!”

Danny jumps forward, grabbing Mr. Lancer’s arm to pull him back onto the landing.

“Are you alright, sir?” Sinilis asks, hovering slightly, hands outstretched to help but not touching. “I do apologize for whatever fright I have caused.”

“No no,” Mr. Lancer shakes his head, stepping carefully away from the steps. “You just- run that by me again?”

Sinilis floats back to stand where he previously stood in the entranceway. He pulls out a scroll from the sleeve of his robe. Unfurling it, he reads it aloud.

“For the continued education of the Heir Apparent and entourage candidates, tours of cultural and historical significance have been scheduled at the following locations: the City of Bāb-ilim, also referred to as the Tower of Babel, the Great Library of Alexandria, the City of Pompeii, the City of Mycenae, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, Zapotes-”

“The city of the Olmecs?” Mr. Lancer interrupts. “And several other ancient wonders? They exist?”

“They actually refer to themselves as Tamoanchan,” Sinilis clarifies. “But yes, they do exist here, as anything that once was and subsequently ceased to exist in the Lands of Life will be reborn here in the Infinite Realms.”

“I think I need to sit down,” Mr. Lancer says, rubbing his temples.

At this point, most of the class has moved closer to the top of the steps.

“I would offer you a drink, but all I have is pomegranate juice,” Sinilis offers.

“That wouldn’t be very helpful,” Sam says. Tucker barks a laugh, turning to cover his face.

“Does that mean we’re going to tour the tower?” Mikey asks.

“I want to know what that heir apparent means,” Paulina asks. “Who is it?”

Sinilis very pointedly does not look at the trio.

“I’m with Paulina,” Valerie says, crossing her arms. “We got kidnapped by ghosts for some supposed ghost heir and named us the entourage? I think we deserve to know.”

“I think it’s Danny,” Mikey says.

“What could Fentonail-”

“Mr. Baxter.” Mr. Lancer chides.

“-do to be this ghost whatever?”

“Well, he was named by the first ghost and he knows who this ghost was before an introduction.”

“So?” Sam asks. “I think we should just accept the absolutely impossible chance of getting guided tours through ancient myths. Do you not realize the actual historical impact that is right there?”

“I mean, Clockwork did say it would just be a visit, which means we would be returned home without a problem,” Tucker offers.

“Who’s Clockwork?” Dash asks at the same time that Valerie demands “Why do you know its name?”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Mr. Lancer holds his hands out to quiet down the class. “Mister uh…”

“Sinilis,” the ghost offers with a tight smile.

“Sinilis,” he continues, with a small nod of thanks, “what is the process for us to return home?

“Why, there’s a portal for your return being prepared on the other side of the city,” the ghost gestures towards the arch.

“But-!” Valerie protests.

“And can you ensure that the class will be safe and unharmed during this tour?”

“Certainly, sir! I swear it upon my core that no harm shall befall the class.”

“I don’t trust you, and I refuse to enter that ghost infested-”

“Stop being rude,” Sam interrupts her. She turns to Sinilis, “is there a way for anyone who doesn’t want to participate to go home now?”

He glances at Danny but doesn’t answer.

“So we’re trapped here?” Valerie says, aghast.

Tucker nudges Danny with his elbow who rolls his eyes back.

“Val,” Danny steps towards her, hands up in a placating manner. “Look we’re here so we might as well do what they ask. When in Rome and all that-”

“But they’re ghosts!” She practically shouts, “you can’t ever-”

“You trust Dani.”

She freezes.

“But she’s-”

“Half, I know, but do you really think that the other half is as bad?”

She doesn’t answer.

Danny takes her hands, “besides, have you ever met a violent librarian?”

She huffs a laugh out of surprise, “no, but there’s a first time for everything.”

“If I may,” Sinilis floats closer, “the sooner we begin the tour, the sooner all of you may return home.”

“Fine, no funny business.”

“Of course,” he bows his head and floats back, glancing at Danny before turning to Mr. Lancer. “Are we all set then?”

Mr. Lancer looks over his class before taking a deep breath. “Well, this will certainly be far more informative than a museum trip.”

#danny phantom #infinite realms #infinite realms remix #dp events #phandom event #nona writes

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fanfics-i-find-here · 3 months ago

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Do I Know You? Part 9

Synopsis: You get kidnapped. It’s Red Hood’s Fault. He doesn’t save you.

Note: alrighty, the votes for a darker chapter won at about 60%, which I am lowkey grateful for because I had half this chapter already written and I did not want to rewrite it. This does have themes of kidnapping, sexual assault, violence, gore, and death. Everything, aside from the kidnapping, are in the cut areas with ---- as a separator. Also for the sake of the plot, we are going to see a divide between Red Hood and Reader and it’ll all start from this chapter forward.

Warnings: Kidnapping, Sexual Assault, Violence, Gore, Death

Masterlist

A month passes by quickly, mild late fall turns into an ice cold winter. While you had been irked when Red Hood called you a tourist, he had been right. Jason planned multiple trips all across the city to see things you hadn’t in the three years you had been there. Astounding gothic architecture, beautiful museums, and picturesque sunrises on the bay. Every week he would take you to do at least one thing but there still hadn’t been a conversation about whether or not these were dates. You didn’t want to ask for fear of embarrassing yourself.

You had to mentally replace your jar with something bigger when you noticed Red Hood was missing his signature leather jacket the next time you saw him—Jason’s brown jacket resting against the back of your couch. You hated how your mind drew similarities and coincidences between them, but you just couldn’t, you wouldn't believe they were the same person. Jason treated you kind of like a princess. He was always prepared with whatever you needed with kind words and a handsome grin. Red Hood was the opposite, haphazardly showing up and quickly disappearing, a wicked smirk on his lips as he teased you about one thing or another. They just could not be the same person. Red Hood had his jacket back after you had returned Jason his. You ignored it.

In the attempts to distract your over-imagination, you would take up some spare shifts at Jackie’s. As winter drew in the sun started going down sooner, meaning you ended up walking in the dark quite a bit. Today was the first time you stayed til closing. Walking home at 10 o'clock at night in Gotham City probably wasn’t your best plan.

It’s a short walk! You had argued with yourself. You should call Jason, another part of you offered. It’s fine, nothing bad will happen, the ignorant part of you said. And you listened to her like an idiot. You were about a block from your apartment when you heard footsteps following you. A number of regrets run through your head at the sight of another person across the street walking at the same pace. You pick up speed and then abruptly stop as someone else steps out of an alley in front of you. You pull your purse off your shoulder. You were bound to get mugged eventually.

“Listen, man, you can just have it. I don’t need it.” You say offering up the bag.

A coarse laugh escapes the man in front of you, “we’re not here for the bag, sweetheart”

You feel a disgusted shiver shake down your spine. Sweetheart was Jason’s pet name for you and to hear it come out of someone else’s mouth and with such a crude tone made you want to throw up. The implication of his words filter through your mind and the bile does begin to grow in your throat. Panic rises in your mind as you try to remember what you're supposed to do. Scream something, but what was it? Any self-defense videos you have seen escape your mind. What do you do? What do you do? Instinct takes over and you turn around to run, unsuccessfully. You run right into someone, and they grab you by the collar of your jacket. You wack haphazardly at their arms, dropping your bag. They don’t even shift so you kick. You hear a grunt of pain, but your victory is short-lived when they suddenly shove you back against a building. Your back aches at the impact but you're going to go down fighting. You push off that wall with balled fists but you’re harshly pushed back against the wall. The back of your head flairs up in pain and your world goes black.

Jason was a little disappointed when he got to your apartment that evening. In the months that he’s been coming around you always had your window unlocked during your designated time slot. Not this time. You’ve locked him out and he didn’t know why. He peeked in the window as best he could. Strange. You kept fairy lights in your living room, and he noticed that they were always on when he came around. It gave a nice comforting glow to the space. They were not on right now. It could be that you were sleeping but something felt… wrong.

Please don’t hate me for this, he thinks as he starts to slowly break open the lock on the window. Your silent alarm would go off and your phone would start to ding so it should wake you. Maybe this is just a good test of that janky alarm system he got from Roy. The window popped open easier than he would have liked but he had better skills than most casual burglars. He opens the window and steps into the living room, listening. Not a sound.

She’s just sleeping, he tells himself, she’s fine. He creeps to your open bedroom door and finds your bed perfectly made, no sign of you. A rock of worry hits Jason square in the chest. He’s quick to search the rest of your apartment like he would find you hiding in a closet. Where is she?

Jason doesn’t hesitate to start a search. You rarely go anywhere unless you're with him so you must be working, or you were. It was nearly midnight, there was no way Jackie’s was open. He’s out your window and following along your usual route, scanning for any sign of you. He thinks you would have known better than to walk in the dark, that you would at least call Jason, so you were on the phone with someone. He would have come and picked you up or something. You could not have been that stupid. He nearly misses it in his rush to get to Jackie’s hoping beyond hope that you were still there but pushed up against a building he sees something. It could be nothing. The streets here aren’t exactly trash-free but he stops to check it out anyways. He stoops to pick it up and his heart drops to his stomach. It was a bag. It was your bag. Where were you?

That was the exact question you were asking yourself when you woke up. It smelled musty and gross. Your head was pounding, and a continuous ache throbbed from your back. It took you a moment to remember what happened. You go through a quick body checkup. Head? Hurting. Back? Also hurting. Wrists? Burning from the tight rope. A flash of gratitude runs through your body when you find nothing else hurts. They hadn’t done anything to you other than kidnapping. You finally make the painful effort of opening your eyes. You wince and squint despite the dim setting you're in. You’re in some kind of warehouse. You think you might hear the ocean but that could just be whooshing in your ears. It takes you a moment before your eyes adjust and you notice a man watching you. He’s short and fat, in a fancier suit than you think is necessary for the setting. A monocle sits over one of his eyes.

“Finally awake? I’m sorry for the unpleasantries,” He says voice a nasally thing, “I usually try to treat my guests with more class than this.” He steps more into the light in a strange waddle.

“But I had to make sure my men got you before your boyfriend showed up.” Your brain glitches at his words. Boyfriend? You don’t have a boyfriend.

“Now we can talk in peace.” He continues with a grin, and you wish he would stop, teeth slightly sharp and rotting, “Now I need you to tell me where his hideouts are.”

You’re quiet, trying to take in all the information you can through the pain in your head.

“What?” is all you can muster.

“Don’t make us do this the hard way, girl. I just want information on your boyfriend, then I’ll let you go.” He grins at you again and you don’t think he's going to let you go.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” He cackles in a strange clattering way that you think you would laugh at in different circumstances.

“You sure about that. Think harder. You two have been spending an awful lot of time together.” He offers. Only one thought filters through your head. Jason.

You realize in a span of ten seconds that you don’t know some important things about Jason, like what he does for a job. Have you been hanging out with a criminal? Wait, he’s still not your boyfriend.

“He’s not my boyfriend. Actually, I don’t even know that we're dating.” You admit and then you continue, mouth getting ahead of your mind, “I mean we’ve definitely been on something you would call a date, but you could also call it a hangout between friends. We just never talked about it, and I think it might be too late to talk about it. What if he doesn’t see me like that? Like he wants us to just be friends but then it'll be awkward because now he knows that I don’t think of him as just a friend. That would be terrible. I don’t want to lose him. He's so nice to me.”

Throughout your rant the man's face drops from his proud grin to an irritated look.

“Quiet, girl!” he snaps, and you shut your mouth, “Where is he hiding out?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know where he lives but he doesn’t know where I live either so it's okay.”

“But he does know where you live.” A look of confusion crosses your face, “He’s been coming into your window.” The man offers and your face grows even more confused. Maybe it’s the headache but you're not sure you're talking about the same person.

“Who are we talking about?” you finally ask.

“Red Hood! We’re talking about Red Hood, girl. Now tell me where his safe houses are.” He says exasperated, waddling closer.

“I don’t know, honestly.” You lean back in the chair you’re tied to. “He’s definitely not my boyfriend. I don’t even know who he really is, he just eats my food.”

You notice how cold it is, your jacket missing, as the man stares at you with a disgusted grimace.

“Please I don’t know anything just let me go.” It’s a last plea because you're pretty sure you're going to die tonight but at least you can say you tried. Apparently, he takes your word for it.

“You're dumber than you look, girl. Walking around at night alone, feeding a vigilante. Shame for a pretty face like yours to go to waste.” He waddles over to a door and knocks on it. The man from earlier appears in the doorway.

“She’s knows nothing, you twat. Do what you want with her but make sure she’s with the fishes before the night’s over.” At his words, your panic from earlier in the night returns. You start to squirm trying to tug yourself free and ignore the painful aches of your body. The stubby man leaves, and you're stuck with the man of your nightmares.

-----Sexual assault, gore, and death coming up-----

A wolfish smirk appears on his lips as he pulls out a knife. You want to scream and cry and throw up. But most of all you want to live. You think about Jason and how he was supposed to take you to the oldest ice cream parlor in Gotham. You have to live. Survive. You repeat the mantra in your head as the man moves behind to cut the rope. Survive. Survive. You have to survive. The moment the rope loosens you’re out of the chair scrambling to the still-open door. You hear the man make a shocked sound. You run down a hallway and pause just for a moment as the hallway splits. It was just a moment, but it was too long. The man crashes into you pushing you up against the wall. A yelp escapes you, the ever-present pain in your body erupting. He turns you around and you gag at the predatory smile he wears.

“They always run.” He says and you feel him start to grope you with his hand not holding the knife. A sob of despair breeches your throat and then your mantra returns to your mind. Survive. Survive. You have to survive. You were not going to die like this, and you were not going to let him touch you like this either. You press your head into the wall as far as you can ignore the pain of it and jerk your head forward. A new pain blooms across the bridge of your nose but the man groans and trips backward on his own feet. Spots dance in your eyes but you hear the clatter of the knife from his hold. Survive. Survive. You spot the knife on the ground and dive for it. Your fingers wrap around it just as the man wraps his hand around your ankle and yanks. Your knuckles scratch on concrete but you maintain your hold on the knife.

“You little bitch” his grip moves up your calf and you follow your instincts. You turn and stab blindly with the knife. A scream erupts from him, but you don’t let your mind think beyond survive, survive. You stab madly. It takes you a moment before you realize he’s not moving anymore. Your eyes are blurry. You hadn’t noticed you started crying. Your throat feels sore, like you had been screaming. Your eyes clear for just a moment to see what’s left of the man's chest. You turn quickly fighting another gag. Survive, survive. You had to get out of here. Your hand tightens on the knife, and you ignore the warm, slick sensation now in between your fingers. You move quickly jogging down the hallway as you look for a way out. You don’t hear anyone else in the building. You make it to a large open area and see a door.

Please be a way out. You walk as you feel your adrenaline drop. The pain in your body returns tenfold. You keep reminding yourself that you are not safe yet. That you have to get out. You remind yourself why. Your ice cream with Jason, Darla was going to bring her granddaughter for you to meet, along with a lineup of things that you wanted to do. You had to live. You feel a hand on your shoulder and your adrenalin spikes again. Your grip tightens on the knife, and you turn and swing it. Your wrist is caught in a solid grip before it can impact anything. Not like this. You scream as you try to pull away from whoever was holding you. Your body drops hoping the dead weight will make them let go. You feel yourself sob with exhaustion as you continue to fight. Then you hear your name repeated a few times until it becomes clearer to ringing ears. Slightly robotic in nature, your blurry eyes finally make out a shiny red shape.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. I’ve got you. Your safe” he repeats over and over again. Red Hood. A sob of relief escapes you and your body sags against him, all the fight gone in a matter of seconds. You find no comfort in pressing your face to his chest, cold hard armor the only thing greeting you.

Jason had been a flurry of commotion once he had found your purse. He called Barbara, not even checking for a private line (the whole family had unintentionally listened in), and begged her to find you. She already knew your usual route (of course) and she threaded through the camera in the area. You had left Jackie’s around 10 o’clock and she was able to follow you for about a block from your apartment before you vanished. She couldn’t find anything suspicious in the area. She asked Jason if your phone had been in the bag. Luckily it wasn’t. While Jason had impatiently paced waiting for Oracle to do her work, Steph hopped into the conversation.

“She’ll be okay, Red Hood. We’ll find her.”

Jason had only offered a scoff at the comment to hide the fear he felt.

“Keep us posted. We’re ready to help if you need it.” Jason was shocked to hear Bruce’s voice over the coms. Despite the tense relationship with his father, Jason feels a sense of calm knowing his family was as ready to save you as he was.

Barbara had pinged your phone only a few miles north of where he was, over by the docks on the river. An old, abandoned warehouse district. She said that you or at least your phone wasn’t moving, and he was quick to head in that direction. She reminded him that the entire family was on call in case he needed help before he silenced his coms. He followed none of his years of trained procedures for something like this. Didn’t check the outside for anybody lurking and didn’t get a scan of the building to know how many people there would be. He just needed to find you. If you were hurt or worse. He didn’t know what he would do with himself. He heard the sound of a vehicle leaving and quickly found a broken window. He slipped in and found himself in what could only be the “offices” of whatever the warehouse used to be. He pulls out his guns ready for a fight and slowly follows one of the hallways. Instead of a fight, Jason is shocked to find a dead man. The chest ripped open; from a knife Jason decides. Whoever did this didn’t have much thought in it. Blood splattered across the wall. Jason only hoped that whoever did this hadn’t gotten to you.

He continues on the path he was on and quickly finds he’s following the blood trail from the body. Random drops of blood on the floor, likely dripping from the knife, held down not up. Whoever had it wasn’t planning on using it on the current path. He keeps going and then pauses before coming to a doorway. There was someone, breathing heavily and moving away from the doorway. He leans around it and sees someone slowly moving across the open floor of the warehouse. He can see the knife hanging in their hand. He takes his time creeping closer to them when he recognizes their shirt. You’d worn it when Jason had taken you to the art museum in downtown Gotham. You practically glowed in the dimming rays of sunset when you left the museum. It was you. You were alive and you were okay. Following his instincts he settles a hand on your shoulder. There was no hesitation as you suddenly swung the knife at him. He finds your eyes wild and watery as he easily catches your wrist. You scream and cry and try to pull away from him. His heart breaks and he’s quick to try and calm you. He wishes he could take off the helmet but he’s pretty sure that if he let go of your arm you would stab him.

“You're okay, everything is all right. You're safe now.” He speaks his words as calmly as he can with the helmet, words he wishes he had heard in moments of panic like this. Your sobbing slows to a blubber as you collapse against him. He hears the knife you were holding drop to the ground and he lets go of your wrist and holds you until your breathing slows to a less panicked pace. His hands leave you for just a moment as he pulls off his helmet. He drops it to the ground and his hands settle on your back and head. You wince but don’t make a sound aside from quiet sniffling. His hand gently moves from the back of your head to your cheek as he gently coaxes you from his chest. His heart breaks when he sees your face. There’s blood running out of your nose and you're still crying.

“Did they hurt you? Is anything broken?” He asks concerned. You don’t respond, just stare at him. He tugs you away from him, but your hands cling to the sleeves of his jacket. He scans over your body and finds a lot of blood. You don’t seem limp or woozy only in shock. But that was a lot of blood. His eyes drop to the blood-covered knife then to your bloody hands gripping his sleeves like your life depends on it. He thinks about the mutilated man in the hallway and connects the dots. The deep, dark part of Jason that he had been trying to bury for years crept up as a sense of pride surfaced in his chest. You killed that guy. He probably tried to do something to you, and you killed, you fought. He was proud of you for it.

That pride disappears as he looks at your face. There’s blood splattered across your face and an empty look in your eyes that makes him worry. You’re in shock. He understands what that can do to a person and he hates that it’s happened to you. His arm slides over your shoulder and he slowly coaxes you to stand and keep walking to the door. He speaks softly, “We should get you out of here, okay? Nothing bad is going to happen anymore. You're okay.”

---End of warnings area---

You’re still shaking as he pulls you outside. You barely become conscious of how cold you are. The sticky wetness on your skin only makes it that much colder. You feel warm fabric cover your shoulders and then Red Hood is holding your face. You feel something move across your skin, scratchy and rough. He talks as he rubs gently, first your face, then your hands. His words are muffled, and you feel like you're underwater and you just want to sleep. Your eyes leave him for a moment when you see flashes of red and blue. Your mind comes back into focus as you hear him say, “-have to leave, okay?”

“What?” You ask and you see a flash of relief move over his features.

“I have to leave. The police are almost here. Commissioner Gordon will make sure you get home safe, okay?” He says slowly though he shifts away from you slightly. Panic curls in your throat again.

“Please, don’t leave.” You choke out as your hands tighten on him. “Don’t leave me alone.” You plead. Your eyes water and you feel so sick of crying. He comes closer again and your nails dig harshly into his arms.

“I have to go. The police aren’t friendly with me, and I don’t want you to get hurt more than you already are. I’ll be watching, okay? I just won't be right here.” He tries to placate you but you're not listening.

“don’t leave me, please. Please don’t leave me here” you repeat. You can see the hesitation on his face but still pries your hands off of him.

“You going to be okay. I’ll be watching.” He repeats as he steps out of your hold. You weep and pull the jacket he’d placed on you tighter around yourself. You blink and he’s gone.

Moments later a few police cars pull up followed by an ambulance. A woman gently guides you over to the ambulance where an EMT does a thorough check of you. You barely respond, heart heavy with he left me. You have a shock blanket wrapped around you. You sit on the back bumper of the ambulance as you watch police officers move in and out of the building. Evidently, the docks just outside the warehouse had been a known drop site of bodies connected to the Penguin, the man that had questioned you, but they never had any evidence. An older man with a bushy mustache sat next to you for a minute before he finally spoke to you.

“I’m Commissioner Gordon. I’d like to get your statement.” You turn your head to glance at him. You think you're supposed to know the name but you can't remember why at the moment.

“You were taken as part of a human trafficking job and caused some problems, so Penguin had you brought here to be dumped.” He continues and your brows furrow. “Penguin came to oversee the matter, and you saw him, correct?” you nod hesitantly at the only question he’s asked you. “Penguin left and Ted Jackson, known rapist and murderer, started to drag you out to the docks. Red Hood intervened and killed Jackson.” You open your mouth to correct him, but he puts up his hand. “Jackson had no weapons on his body but was severely mutilated,” the knot of bile surges in your throat again, “The state of his body would leave the perpetrated in jail, despite the state of Jackson’s criminal record. Red Hood is already wanted on multiple accounts of murder. You’re a victim, Miss, not a criminal.” You realize that the commissioner is telling you what your official statement is. “You were present at the killing, that’s why you're covered in blood.” You glance down at your shaky hands, only light streaks of blood left. “Red Hood killed Jackson and brought you out here and left before the police arrived. Do you agree that this statement is true and correct as best you can?”

You stare at him and the commissioner tips his head at you meaningfully.

“Yes,” you finally say. The commissioner nods contently.

“The paramedics say you have a mild concussion and bruising to your nose. Overall, you’ll be alright. Do you have someone we can call to take you home?”

“Jason,” you say before you can think about it.

“You have a last name?” he asks as he stands.

“I…” you stammer.

“It’s okay. I'll have someone find a number. I'm going to go talk through some things with the officers. If you need anything else, I’ll be over there.” You follow the line of pointing to a cluster of cops and nod. As he leaves, he pulls out his phone. You think you hear him say Babs, but your mind brushes the strange name to the side.

Additional Note: after a few read throughs myself I realized how heavy on descriptions this chapter was with not a lot of dialogue. Sorry about that. Since this was the first time I’ve written something dark, I would love any critiques or comments on things I did good or bad at, please. No Pressure though. Thank you for reading and the next chapter is a lot of intimate comfort, so I can’t wait to finish that one up.

Tag List: @little-miss-naill, @nikilolo787, @joonunivrs, @uzxotic, @qardasngan, @stormz369, @g4bbi3xx, @iwatobiswimbros, @the-lonely-flute, @elz-xo, @gone-batty-fics, @princessesgarden, @notfckincreative, @love-theangel, @feyres-fireheart, @tetsuroubaby, @mrskreideprinzessin, @moonluna1215

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #do i know you?#kandywrites #fanfics-i-find-here

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quirekey · 4 months ago

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Ik noone asked for a part 3, but this is so fun to write

ORION PAX x D16 x GN!READER

[ orion pax x d16 x gn!racer!reader ] [ Part 3 ]

PART 1 PART 2

“Wait! Before you go, (Y/N)! Is there any way you could.. I don’t know.. Keep us somewhere secret? They wouldn’t care about a few miners disappearing.”

”But Pax, you think they will let us off the hook? Just like tha-“

”Don’t you wanna hang out with your crush more?”

”… Wh- DON’T SAY THAT OUTLOUD! Let (Y/N) make their decision before you jump to conclusions.”

They then look up at you, waiting for you to make your decision. You weren’t sure if you wanted to hold them in your quarters. You didn’t want to isolate them from society just so they wouldn’t get in trouble…

POLL RESULTS

Give in and bring them into your quarters - 95.6%

Decline and force them back into the mines - 4.4%

START OF PART 3

“… Look, if I bring you guys to my quarters temporarily, then will you guys be happy?”

The two looked at each other, shook that you even accepted Orion’s request. Orion then looks at you, nodding eagerly. D16 looks at you with a shy smile, still willing to come with you. The two don’t have the best life so anything could seem fun to them.

”Are you serious? I- I mean yeah, sure, of course! It would be an honour!”

You chuckled at D16’s confused but hyped tone and crouched to them once more, going down to eye-level.

”Alright, but I’ll have to carry you guys on my shoulders again. You guys can’t catch up with me and my speed.”

Both of them understood so you grabbed them and instead of harshly throwing them onto your back, you held them with one in each arm. You were holding them so they were facing you as they sat in your arms. You then start rushing to your quarters as you feel their hands grip onto you for stability.

Bypassers saw you run by, waving and screaming your name as you were famous for all of your wins in the Iacon races. The Cybertronians around you made it clear that you were absolutely famous and you loved to bask in the glory, but currently you're holding two miners who could probably be fugitives so you couldn’t stop for autographs nor meet and greets.

You get to the building and push everybot aside and unlock the metal passageway, throwing the two into your quarters, running in after and letting the passage shut and lock. Looking at the miners then at your room, reality struck you again. These are fugitives and you took them in, you could get in trouble for having them here… Whatever, things happen and it is too late now, you thought.

You were training as a scientist despite being more of the speeds than anything else. You were made to be a bot all about speed and maybe even brawn, but you aspired to be a scientist. Because of this, there were lots of advanced technology, messy chemical works, shelves filled to the brim with inventions and generally it was a mess. Then at the back was where your stasis pod was, directly in the middle. Beside the stasis pod were a massive shelf on each side, both of them filled with trophies and badges you have received overtime in iacon. It was contrasting on how dirty it is on the front of your quarters compared to the cleanliness in the back.

Orion Pax and D16’s jaws were dropped so quickly at the sight of your quarters. It was so messy and clean at the same time, the surprise of you wanting to be a scientist was definitely something else and their height makes them look like little sparklings. Orion immediately runs off and starts looking around, his face in awe. D16 grabs his arm and yells at him.

”Pax! This isn’t a museum, we can’t just look around without permission!”

“Oh come on, I’m sure (Y/N) wouldn’t mind! Right?”

Orion smirked and looked up at you for their approval. You just chuckled and nodded.

”Sure, just be careful. There are many failed inventions and deadly chemicals that are placed around here… I should really clean it up.”

Orion launched off mid-speech, you and D16 weren’t too surprised. D16 gently tapped your elbow, looking up at you with a tinge of curiosity, it was pretty wholesome. You look at him with your head tilted slightly.

”(Y/N), are you studying science?”

”Yes, why do you ask?”

”I just wanted to know… Why? You are the fastest bot in all of Iacon! You are swift and sly, unlike any other bot. What’s the poi-“

D16 was cut off with Orion yelling out your name, trying to get you to go over to him. He was yelling for you to come and explain something to him, seemingly it was something pretty personal to you. D16 just scoffed and crossed his arms, he was jealous?

TO BE CONTINUED

with another poll!!

#transformers #transformers one #tfone #d16 #orion pax #optimus prime #megatron #transformers x reader #megop #d16 x reader #orion pax x reader #optimus x reader #megatron x reader #optimus prime x reader

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whencartoonsruletheworld · 8 months ago

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my pitch for a phineas and ferb-themed ride at the disney parks (hire me disney you cowards)

the queue is an interior building with pnf-themed decorations. kinda like the figment ride in epcot, a lot of it is winding through a "museum" of pnf and/or doof inventions. most of those inventions disappeared of course, so they're models, parts in glass cases, etc. overhead are tv monitors that play a shuffled loop of phineas and ferb songs, but bc there are so many good songs they can use it hopefully won't get repetitive unless you're there for nine hours. the exception to this is one small part of the queue (small to avoid people being stuck there too long) where it exclusively plays the quirky worky song and you see the pnf gang building the ride you're about to go on, either as statues/figures or through a "screen" that shows looping animation

you get onto the coaster car from the first episode as phineas, baljeet or isabella reads the safety spiel over the loudspeaker. actually as i'm typing this it might be fun to loop each of the backyard gang doing their own version that'd be cute

the ride takes off and you hear the vamp from the "rollercoaster" song as you're loading in.

once inside, the ride is styled like epcot's guardians of the galaxy ride, where you're on a track looping through a mix of screens and sets. the first part plays more of the "rollercoaster" song as you run through the "coolest coaster ever" scenes.

miscellaneous room/scene ideas: fireside girl action segment, carpe diem room, obviously a space segment w/ meap and queen candace and the catu aliens, obligatory scary bit through the haunted house, rock concert w/ love handel, backyard beach/atlantis, owca headquarters, 2nd dimension bit (might be too confusing for new fans?), relatively normal area where candace is gesturing wildly to a linda animatronic that won't turn around and see the rollercoaster car, idk a hamster & gretel segment or smth

a little bit in, you hear a beep and a call for agent p. a small animatronic of perry rises from the front of the car as you enter a tunnel, where a screen of major monogram tells perry to get his ass to doofenshmirtz evil incorporated to fight doof. perry salutes and slides back down into the car, and the ride then takes a "wrong track" (kinda like when you run into a "broken track" on everest) to DEI.

we go inside and see animatronics of perry fighting doof as an inator sparks. it goes off, sending us down yet another "wrong track," which shoots through wilder parts of danville. at the climax, we start looping and the climax of the "rollercoaster" song starts playing ("we're rightside-up and upside-down...")

at the end of the ride, we see an animatronic/animation of doof hanging upside-down from rope as perry glares at him cross-armed, and doof intermittently yells "curse you, perry the platypus!" on a screen, monogram congratulates the riders for saving the tri-state area with agent p. perry makes platypus noise.

you go to another room, right before the exit. you see candace pointing to an empty backyard, saying stuff like "but it was right here! and it was huge!" as phineas and ferb sit under the tree and address the guests. if you're far enough away from the last room, perry can be sitting under them being cute.

the exit queue has posters for dwampyverse stuff, like "love handel reunion", "doctor zone: the movie", the og rollercoaster poster, etc.

you exit in a gift shop where you can buy perry the platypus inaction figure (he doesn't do anything!) and big sticks

lastly,

you know when rides break down or stop for a sec and you get in-character voiceovers telling you to stay seated or w/e? i think we should have three that loop: one of doof giving a basic spiel, one of milo murphy being like "yeah i went on the ride. sorry about that. it should start working soon lol" and one where literally the whole thing is candace yelling "NO MOM I SWEAR IT'S A WORKING ROLLERCOASTER AND PHINEAS AND FERB BUILT IT! MOM LISTEN–"

#phineas and ferb #mine #pnf

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aklaustaleteller · 7 months ago

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An Unofficial Date

Klaus has had a certain starry-eyed girl on his mind, so when he walks into a museum, not at all with the hope of finding her inside, he can't help but strike up a conversation, which might've just led to Y/n agreeing to see him again.

Warnings - none that I can think of!

Word Count - 1.6k

Masterlist | Please reblog the work to share!

Been writing something that has had me researching left, right, and center! So I thought that while I worked on that one, I'd write a quick little something to freshen up a tad. Hope you enjoy a giddy Klaus hahah!

On a random, foggy Tuesday morning, Klaus found himself taking a quick stroll to the new Art Museum that had appeared out of nowhere in Mystic Falls. Well, for him anyways, for he hadn't come across the building in the months that he had been existing in the small town.

But one couldn't fault him for that, seeing that he had been so busy messing with a group of teenagers, or rather – with a couple of centuries old vampires, a newborn werewolf, and even a newfound witch, should he say.

But what took up most of his time was this starry-eyed girl with whom his eyes always seemed to meet whenever they were in the same room. That was all he got, though. The chance to look into her eyes for a fleeting second before she was shifting her gaze onto something else, leaving him breathless and wanting for more.

He never caught her name, or even a smile. Each time he saw her, he had been in search for a muse. And each time, she succeeded in sending a surge of creativity flowing through his entire being that consumed him so fully that he would race home and embrace that rush of adrenaline until he needed more.

Then, he would go out to steal another glance at her. The problem was, he hadn't been seeing her around for a week now. And he was anxious that she might've left the town, for she was the type of person whose absence went unnoticed for all but those who'd even once shared her company.

So, he felt a bit hopeful since he hadn't heard of Damon or Bonnie complaining about their loss of time with her. But he was also dreadful, wanting nothing more than to meet with her again knowing that this time he wouldn’t miss the chance to speak to her.

If Klaus had to be honest, he'd confess that the sole reason he was even heading to the museum was because he had a feeling that this could be one of the places he'd find her.

On his walk, he came across wildflowers and rose bushes, a couple of pinecones and a odd looking lemon tree, that stood lonely in midst of all the fog that had settled around it. And Klaus wondered if she paid attention to such details, if he should pick out a rose in case he did come across her? But he settled on not doing that, since that would surely give him away instantly.

He strolled through the corridors, sparing each art piece a single glance because he couldn't feel the emotions of looking at them for the first time and the curiousity of trying to unwind the stories in them due to his ages old knowledge that proved the collection in this museum to be quite poor.

There were a few people inside, a few dreamers scattered throughout the place, either sitting on the floor, sketching out what they could see in the painting or standing as if trying to count the stars, their eyes set on complicated pieces that pretentiously twisted the wires of their brains.

His eyes were wandering, and he was people watching now, rather than looking at the art that hung in frames. Which is how, there was a stutter in the search of his eyes when he caught sight of someone sitting against a wall opposite a painting, dressed in something quite vintage with a bowl of blackberries in their lap. A smile threatened to slip on his mouth.

He suppressed it though, looking at the ground to wait-out the disappearance of his blush before he squared his shoulders.

"Hello there," Klaus smiled, looking down at her and nodding when he had her attention. "Think I've seen you around?"

She broke a smile then, a small frown settling between her brows. "Hi, and …think I’ve witnessed a couple instances myself!" She laughed, her palm twitching awkwardly as she battled whether she should continue to eat, offer him some or wipe her stained hands on her thrifted dress.

She offered him to sit beside her instead, and then offered him her snack.

"Why thank you," Klaus murmured, his heart racing inside his chest the moment he caught a whiff of her perfume.

"I'm Niklaus, by the way."

She looked at him intriguingly, swallowing as she nodded to herself. "That's a nice name," she admitted. "Any meaning behind it?"

Klaus looked away, pretending to look at the painting in front of them in order to hide the sudden blood-rush to his face.

"Yes, yes it does," he said. "It comes from a Greek word, um, Nikolaos, I think? Means victory of the people."

"Well, I'm Y/n," she extended her clean hand out and Klaus shook it, electricity coursing through his being.

He sighed and locked his arms around his knees.

"So, Y/n," he tasted her name on his tongue and right away, wanted more of it. "What are you doing here?"

"Nothing special, been writing a thesis lately. Came here for a break and some change of scenery," she shrugged.

"A thesis?" Klaus asked, feeling intrigued and when she nodded nonchalantly, he felt baffled. "On what, if you don't mind me asking?"

She was smiling bashfully now, looking down at the remaining blackberries. "You'll laugh," she said.

"And why would that be?"

She clenched her eyes shut. "Because it's on hotels," she raced to say, peeking at him with one eye to see his reaction. He wasn't laughing so she looked at him properly, dumbfounded, noting that his expression was the same as before, if not more interested.

"Tell me more about it," Klaus asked, leaning his head on his knee to look at her.

She was blushing, and Klaus made a mental note to try and get the shade right on his canvas when he went back home.

"Well, it's going to be a tangent, so don't complain, okay?" She looked at him warily. He blinked softly, urging her on and she felt something shift between them.

"You asked for this," she sighed, and he chuckled, picking up another berry as she turned so that she was facing him, sitting cross-legged with a straight back.

She went on then, and Klaus was absorbing every single word that she was saying along with her wild hand-gestures that he felt like were going to hit him at some point. He noticed the sparkle in her eyes doubling-up as she talked about something she clearly felt passionate about.

Her cheeks had grown slightly red, and her mouth was stained by the blackberries. She mentioned how she had an even softer spot for haunted houses and hotels, making him grin with her.

It felt vulnerable for some reason, and Klaus' heart felt like it was growing inside of his chest.

She was spilling for him all of the research she had done so far, and it was admirable how well she was doing at explaining to him all of it. He wasn't sure if he was going to be able to look at the hotels the same way again, knowing now the way she looked at them.

And he knew that he was going to pester her again sometime and ask her about the gold chain that she wore, in the middle of which hung a glass globe that held something in the shape of a star preserved inside it. He had a feeling that everything that adorned her body held some meaning to it for her.

"And I think that's all I've got on it, so far anyways," she finished with a deep breath, looking at him with a big grin on her face. She had lipstick on her bottom teeth, or maybe it was just the berrie’s stain; Klaus looked away.

"I think I have a newfound soft-spot for hotels now," Klaus sighed, straightening his back and leaning against the wall, craning his neck to look at her.

"I'm so very glad to hear that," she chuckled. "My apologies for talking your ear off, but hey, you asked for it!"

"I've got a feeling that I might ask for it again," he winked, and she looked away immediately, the corners of her mouth lifted up.

"Can't be now because I need to get going," she shrugged, checking her wristwatch whose leather band was beginning to wither off.

"Sure, think I wasted some of your time there," grinning sheepishly, Klaus rubbed the back of his neck.

But she laughed as she packed away her book and the empty container back into her bag. "No, Klaus, thank you for listening," she said, genuinely.

"Anytime," Klaus muttered shyly, watching as she got up and waved him goodbye.

Klaus waved back with a wistful smile, watching her walk away when he suddenly realised.

"When will I see you again?" He shouted, ignoring the incredulous looks he got from the strangers. He slipped his hands in his pockets and shrugged when she turned around to look at him with wide eyes.

"I love taking evening walks around the neighbourhood," she said at a normal volume, and Klaus heard her just right.

He was going to be delusional and tell him himself that today had been an unofficial date, maybe he'd ask her out for an official one when he saw her the next time.

He nodded at her, giving her a salute as he rolled on the toe and then the heels of his feet, grinning shamelessly as she laughed and walked away, sparing him one last glance before turning around the corner, out of his sight but not once out of his mind.

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germanpostwarmodern · 6 months ago

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The built manifestations of Brutalism, despite their omnipresence on social media, remain controversial: especially in Europe they are loved by some and hated by many. In other parts of the world opinions aren’t as polarized and Brutalism simply a part of the built environment, e.g. in Japan. Okinawa-based photographer Paul Tulett has been exploring the Japanese brutalist heritage for years and in his new book „Brutalist Japan“, recently published by Prestel, points to the particular appeal concrete had in postwar Japan: it offered seismic safety, was resistant to termites and easy to pour in form and via the shuttering boards also left room for the skilled Japanese wood crafts. At the same time the Japanese tradition for leaving natural materials rough and raw played in the hands of „béton brut“ that, as Tulett explains, became „béton nécessaire“.

The former’s gradual aging and the acceptance thereof agains roots in Japanese tradition, i.e. the concepts of „wabi sabi“ and „mono no aware“ which embrace the beauty of imperfection and describe the ambivalent awareness of the fleeting nature of beauty. Against this background and Tulett’s introduction to Japanese philosophies it becomes easier to understand why Brutalism is a lot less controversial in Japan than it is in other parts of the world and never disappeared. Accordingly the buildings gathered in „Brutalist Japan“ date from the 1950s to the present day and offer a comprehensive panorama of Brutalism in Japan: in brilliant photographs Tulett shows classics like Kenzo Tange’s Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum (1955) and Setagawa Ward Office (1959) or Le Corbusier’s National Museum of Western Art (1959) but also a plethora of little-known buildings. And they are compelling: the fortress-like Tanimura Art Museum (1983) by Togo Murano, the Keihan Uji Station (1995) by Hiroyuki Wakabayashi or the Okinawa Prefectural and Art Museum (2007) by Ishimoto and Niki Associates demonstrate the masterful use of raw concrete while also dealing with Japanese history and traditions.

This beautifully crafted mix of buildings makes the book a great read and an eye-opening survey of Japanese Brutalism. Highly recommended!

#architecture #japan #brutalism #architecture book #book #prestel

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pinesfamilyguidetotheweird · 8 months ago

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Gravity Falls Headcanons

[maybe acceptable to change]

Dipper Pines

Has autism

Has chewelry for when he’s in deep thought, which is better than chewing his pens

Is an ally

Gets glasses

Has gained two more friends around his age, Twig Westwood and Lorelei ‘Lorie’ Flussmann

Has scarring from the summer of 2012

Has participated in marching band

Plans to pursue journalism

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mabel Pines

Is pan

Has ADHD

Doesn’t have a single fashion ‘style’, opting to change it frequently (ex. She’s goth one day and bohemian the next day and retro the next day)

Has started using hair chalk to go with her outfits

Will have her braces removed, but start wearing a retainer

Has a knack for alchemy and magic and is currently under the tutelage of a witch

Continues with her Guide to Life videos and becomes a popular WebTuber

She does commissions for her handmade bracelets and necklaces and anything knitting/crocheting related

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stan Pines

Probably the most ‘normal’ of the Pines twins

Is bisexual

Has claustrophobia

Is dyslexic

Suffers from depression and PTSD

Is the better cook compared to Ford

Would reclaim his mullet while out at sea

Needs a moment to let his mind settle after waking up, a side effect of the memory gun

Is fluent in Spanish, and passively understand French and Portuguese (but can’t speak fluently)

He used be part of a biker gang, the same one with Jimmy Snakes

With Ford’s permission, he gave Soos the entire Shack, house and all

With money from selling treasure, Stan has Dan build a new cabin house for the family

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ford Pines

AuDHD

Major Insomniac

An AroAce Nonbinary Man!

Suffers from c-PTSD, depression, and great guilt

Does have a feral side to him

Has a fear of snakes, but loves cats (imagine him meeting a tatzelwurm)

Eerily quiet while asleep

Grows out his hair to his shoulder blades. Initially has plans to cut it, but Mabel likes this long.

Has a cybernetic spine; its what caused his eyes to turn from brown to blue; there are other changes.

He probably has other implants, though one is a translator

He doesn’t like being touched, especially around his wrists and neck

Used to be fairly chubby until his fallout with Bill, which caused him to lose weight because of stress. Becomes malnourished while dimension hopping. Still currently recovering.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Soos Ramirez

Becomes a let’s player on his days off, his WebTube channel is called ‘Let’sDoodIt!’. Melody would occasionally appear in it.

Soos, along with Melody and his Abuelita, has moved into the Shack

For the Stans’ 59th birthday, Soos had gifted Stan his adoption papers and Stan, without missing a beat, signs it

Has a lot of weird dreams, one of them of him and Stan being frogs and the latter owning a wax museum

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wendy Corduroy

Her trapper hat used to belong to her mother

Got super depressed over her mom disappearing

Has a new friend named Seiko Habutai, who would eventually become her girlfriend

Bisexual

Joins Ford as his assistant when able

Owns a bat-ax, built by McGucket

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Fiddleford McGucket

Has recovered a lot: Wears a brace to fix his posture, takes it off for showers and sleep, received dental implants (still has his golden tooth), his hair has grown back and regained some color (gray but still), but unfortunately had to get his beard and mustache shaved off (it was a mess! You know the man did not wash that thing!)

Uses a cane with a fritz handle

Is reconnecting with his ex-wife, Emma May

Still has his former raccoon wife, but as a pet, June

Has started his own electronics company, McGucket & Son’s Lab

Would occasionally have minor relapses before returning to his senses on his own

Have started watching anime, courtesy of Soos, and alot of them inspired some of his creations

Has future apprentices in Candy Chiu and a Molly Westwood

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pacifica Northwest

Is in her ‘rebellious’ phase, according to her parents

Starts hanging out with Candy and Grenda

Still keeps in touch with Archibald’s spirit, who has followed the Northwests to their new house

Plans to golf professionally, but likes to play casually, especially with Mabel

Also has an affinity for magic and has the same witch teacher as Mabel

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Robbie Valentino

Continues to pursue his band career

Has a new best friend in an anthropomorphic wolf named Yue, who joins his band

Is more annoyed with his parents’ during funerals (thanks, Jacky ^^)

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Gideon Gleeful

Was always an intelligent kid

Would skip a couple of grades upon finishing elementary school

He knows the full extent of Ford’s torture, who promised him not to say a word

Hates dancing and will decline when offered

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Bill Cipher (post-Theraprism; if he manages to get released)

Would gain a cat-like appearance once he could reincarnate

Would somehow be put under the custody of the Pines family

Has lost most of his powers, can now only levitate himself and enter dreams

More subdue and standoffish, but still has his sick sense of humor and trickster attitude

Became somewhat of a tsundere

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Miscellaneous

People did move out Gravity Falls because of the trauma caused by Weirdmageddon

The ‘Never Mind All That’ Act was abolished three months after creation

There is a ‘Midnight Market’, where the Abnormal creatures have a flea market in town square in the middle of the night

During spooky events, such as Halloween and Summerween, and ‘nerd’ conventions, abnormal species are able to freely show themselves to ‘normies’

Manotaurs has started to work for the Corduroys

#gravity falls #gravity falls headcanons #stanford pines #ford pines #grunkle ford #stanley pines #grunkle stan #mabel pines #dipper pines #soos ramirez #wendy corduroy #pacifica northwest #fiddleford hadron mcgucket #old man mcgucket #gideon gleeful #robbie valentino #bill cipher

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toastermuffles · 7 months ago

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Hey guys welcome to my massive rant about q!Fit and how cc!Fit is incredibly talented and underrated. Since y'all kinda blew up my twitter post LOL.

There are SO many things I could touch on so it's probably gonna be scattered around a lot.

1) Fit had a great character set up from the beginning. From the very start many people knew Fits reputation as a 2b2t veteran, a place with a toxic environment and brutal people. He was no exception, he was closed off to relationships and was very cautious/closed off to many things. Not only that but his past made people distrust him in the beginning. I loved the suspense it brought with his character and the question of why he WAS actually here. Since the whole "vacation" thing was never very convincing. My favourite part was a lot of this was IMPLIED! He built on the character he portrayed in his YT videos and it worked so well, adding small comments about his character here and there (like when he said q!Fits hearing was bad BC of all the explosions he's experienced).

2) His RP skills were another level, not only was he in character almost the WHOLE time when he was live (even donos) when he first did lore he would tease elements of it by writing cryptic messages when others were live. SUCH a good idea when you have a smaller audience and want to create suspense. Not only that, he would have set dates and times for BIG lore stuff, this honestly made it so much easier to keep track of and engage in, not only alone but with friends too! His actual lore was very different from many others, it was cinematic and well planned, yet it still left room for sudden changes. The final result was a cohesive story line that the audience could interpret. I just loved how I could understand what was happening but also have questions/cliffhangers!

3) the fucking MUSIC. Throughout his lore and start of his streams I adored his choice of music, "Stranger in Paradise" being a personal favourite that was not only reoccurring in more than one language but fit SO WELL. I also think it was very clever how a lot of his music choices for his character didn't make sense until you understand the full story e.g. "Can't say goodbye to yesterday". All of this really added a new perspective on his character, almost through cc!Fits own eyes. Along with his music choice just being absolute bops OFC.

4) THE SYMBOLISM. My absolute favourite lore moment of his was at the end of the "Attachments" lore stream. Where the sun is setting over the mountain, slowly covering a patch of roses in darkness. ALL WHILE an instrumental Italian version of "Stanger in paradise" played. Roses of course being a symbol of not only his and Pac's relationship but love in general. His love for Ramon and his friends. The love he had to grow, just like a rose. While the darkness symbolizes his past catching up to him, more specifically his deadline. His time with his family and friends ending, his loves disappearing. Chefs kiss because it makes me cry everytime fr.

5) q!Fit's sexuality (gay). There is something so poetic about a gay guy from an extremely homophobic wasteland learning to come to terms with his own sexuality and love in general. Him slowly building a loving relationship with Ramon, Growing feelings for Pac, Nervously coming out to his son and then finally indulging in the first relationship and FAMILY he had ever had. Finally learning to love and to be loved in return. Even if he is scared about his mission, or taking things too fast. Just learning to live a normal life.

6) Fitmc is criminally underrated and overlooked. I still remember when Fit got his first proper piece of fanart in the museum. It was like... JULY? or something. And I think that says enough. People had no idea he was even doing lore at some points. Averaging at about 1-2k viewers in the beginning, until hideduo came into the mix. A lot but still compared to others very low. I think because his viewers consisted of his YT audience it didn't translate well. But I'm so glad he was able to build a loving community on twitch <3

Anyways it's 3am for me, I probably have more to talk about but this is basically what I meant when I posted that tweet. Feel free to reblog and add your own favourite observations or moments. I wanna hear them! ❤️

#fitmc #qsmp #qsmp fitmc #qsmp fit #fitmc qsmp #qsmp ramon #hideduo #qsmp pac #spotify #fypage

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eponymous-rose · 2 years ago

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A little thing I'm also really appreciating in this rewatch of TNG is something that seems to have all but disappeared in the age of tightly plotted, entirely serialized eight-episode miniseries TV: little slice-of-life moments that don't serve any driving plot purpose except to flesh out the world a little bit.

The scene with Picard's hairdresser earnestly telling him how he should better have handled diplomatic relations with the Romulans doesn't serve a deep narrative purpose in the sense of echoing the themes of the episode or foreshadowing some important moment with that hairdresser. It's there to share a little picture of the world - yes, there are still hairdressers in the future, yes, there's still awkward small-talk with said hairdressers. There's also the nice little reminder in all these domestic scenes that normal life is happening aboard the Enterprise, families and all, which adds to the sense of danger when the ship's in peril and paints the moments of war and conflict as uncomfortable juxtapositions. It's not there to serve the plot, it's there to build the world. And the characters! Picard's mostly-polite demurs, the reveal that Riker has been 100% humoring this guy like "oh man, we should've thought of that, you're so right". There's no reason to include it beyond reveling in the world.

I really miss that about a lot of modern TV - we get these needle-sharp hard dives through a world, coherent and concise and often quite lovely, but trying to take in the scope of the world around that plot is like watching out the window of a fast-moving train: you're getting nothing more than vague impressions at a remove. It's the difference between a guided tour of a museum and a self-guided tour: sometimes, at some museums, you just want to meander around a bit at your own pace and let it wash over you.

Given the choice, I'll almost always fall deeper in love with a show that's criticized for "filler" or "monster of the week" because I know it'll give its characters and its universe time to grow. That's what drew me to TV in the first place - I adore movies, but there's only so much you can do with character and world in 2-3 hours. Lately a lot of TV seems to be seen as a rather long movie with the odd break where you get up to make popcorn midway through. I think there's something unique about the format of television that's being lost in this attempt to emulate the structure of a movie, in the same way that some novels feel like they might as well just have been novellas or short stories. It's not just a longer version of the same thing. It has the potential to be something entirely different.

Give me the bloated 20-odd-episode seasons of the 90s and 00s, where characters grew and changed slowly, by inches, and we had the time to change along with them. I love the new stuff, don't get me wrong, but I sure miss that specific brand of mess.

#star trek

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wordsarelife · 7 months ago

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—hey stephen

pairing: peter parker x fem!stark!reader

summary: you and peter have to fix a little mistake one of the avengers made. luckily you're a great team

warnings: flirting, theft lol

note: i realized too late i hadn't put it in the queqe lol!

the night sky loomed above you, a soft haze of stars disappearing into the city’s light pollution. a high-rise office building stretched into the clouds, and at its base, peter was already halfway up, scaling the glass like it was nothing. your fingers tapped the device your dad had insisted you bring, ensuring your escape route was intact—just in case.

"the probability of falling to your death is one in three," you called out, voice laced with dry amusement as you watched peter's slow climb from the ground.

from above, peter’s voice crackled through your earpiece, laced with sarcasm. "what do the statistics say about people with spider-powers?" he paused to look down at you, clearly rolling his eyes beneath the mask.

with a smirk, you tapped the small stark tech device on your wrist, instantly teleporting yourself from the ground to the roof he was climbing toward. when you appeared, you peeked over the ledge to see him still climbing, almost there. "they say, that they're kind of slow."

peter stopped climbing and turned his head in your direction, scowling up at you. "ha ha" he muttered, clearly unimpressed. still, you could see a grin forming under the mask as he climbed up the last few feet. "and what do they say about people with teleporting powers and stark-level egos?"

you quirked a brow, amusement dancing on your lips. "that we don’t have time to climb up buildings for fun," you shot back.

"whatever" he replied playfully, as he walked around you, to look through the glass of the roof and into the room beneath it. "do we have any information about the security system?"

"vision’s already taken care of the alarms and cameras," you answered, eyes still locked on the space beneath. "but we’ve got a problem."

you and peter stood shoulder to shoulder, staring down through the reinforced glass at the one obstacle neither of you had expected: larry, the security guard. he was patrolling the museum’s halls with an intensity that would put some SHIELD agents to shame.

larry was infamous for taking his job way too seriously, a fact that had somehow kept this museum entirely free of robbery attempts.

peter let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "that’s larry, isn’t it? guy’s basically the captain america of museum security.”

"yup," you sighed, arms crossed as you watched larry methodically sweep each room like he was guarding the crown jewels. "this mission is supposed to be high-stakes, not high-annoyance."

your father had pulled you into this last-minute mission, and you couldn’t help but smirk at the memory of his over-the-top explanation for why this was necessary.

thor had accidentally packed one of tony's and bruce’s experimental devices in a gift box meant for this museum, and now that same device was on display, tucked away in some artifact. to tony, this was practically a world-ending catastrophe.

"couldn't you just, you know... build another one?" you had asked at the time, exasperation dripping from your voice.

tony had responded by rolling his eyes dramatically, as if you’d just suggested throwing away the mona lisa. "do you want the wrong hands getting this tech? because that’s how we all end up in serious, world-ending trouble."

that, of course, had been enough to get you and peter on board. especially after the last world-ending trouble, your father had been involved in, had led to robots invading sokovia and ripping it out of the ground.

but now, staring at larry pacing the hallway like he was auditioning for an action movie, you were starting to regret that decision.

"we’ve got to get him out of there" peter whispered. "or this is going to get messy fast"

you nodded. "and vision can’t mess with his comms or knock him out—he’s just a regular guy, after all. we can’t exactly web him up and call it a day"

"yeah" peter agreed. "but we can’t just waltz in either. larry’s about three steps away from spotting us and sounding the alarm. and there goes our quiet heist"

peter shifted beside you, fidgeting like he always did when he was thinking up a plan. you could practically see the gears turning in his head. he turned to you, his face half-hidden under the mask, but you could feel the grin even if you couldn’t see it. "how good are you at distractions?"

you raised an eyebrow. "depends on the distraction. what are you thinking?"

peter leaned down, pointing at the far end of the hallway where a ventilation shaft led into the room larry was patrolling. "you teleport down there, maybe drop something—make some noise. when larry goes to investigate, i’ll slip in and get the device"

you glanced at the vent, calculating the distance between it and larry’s patrol route. it could work. you could make just enough noise to pull him out of the main exhibit area without alerting him too much.

“fine” you muttered, already prepping yourself. “but you owe me.”

peter chuckled, tapping the side of his mask. "i’ll pay you back in kisses. how’s that?"

"disgusting, actually" rolling your eyes, you disappeared in a flash, teleporting down into the vent, making sure to land as quietly as possible. the cold metal of the air duct pressed against your knees as you crawled toward the room below, spotting larry a few feet away, completely oblivious.

reaching for your utility belt, you pulled out a small stark gadget—a harmless little device designed to make a loud noise when activated. with a quick flick of your wrist, you dropped it through the slats in the vent, watching as it clattered to the floor.

larry’s head snapped toward the sound immediately. his footsteps echoed through the room as he headed toward the noise, flashlight in hand. you teleported yourself back to the roof in time to see peter lower himself through the glass on a webline, slipping into the room like a shadow.

“good?” you whispered into your comms.

peter’s voice came back soft but smug. "good. i'm heading to the artifact now."

you watched from above as peter made his way through the room, quiet as ever. he moved between the display cases with ease, his eyes trained on the object in question—a small, unassuming vase, inside of which was the deadly device your dad had carelessly gifted to the museum.

"you think they’d put the dangerous stuff in a more secure spot," peter whispered, now crouched by the display.

"it’s a vase," you whispered back. "nobody thinks vases are dangerous."

peter snorted. "clearly, they’ve never been on a mission with you.”

“clearly, my dad is just as smart, considering he gave a kid a multi-million dollar suit” you teased.

"oh, shut up!" peter shook his head, but you could hear in his voice that he wasn't actually angry or offended at the joke. he carefully removed the vase from its display, switching it out with an identical replica tony had provided. “got it,” he said, holding the real one up to the light.

but just as he turned to leave, larry came back into view. peter froze mid-step, his eyes darting to the closest hiding spot—a decorative column far too narrow to be much help.

“uh, y/n?” peter’s voice was tense. “i think larry’s about to spot me”

“how close are you to the exit?” you asked, already preparing to teleport in if things got messy.

“close enough... but not without being seen” peter muttered. he shifted, trying to move around the column without larry noticing.

you sighed, rolling your eyes. "fine. hold tight."

in an instant, you teleported into the hallway just a few feet behind larry, making just enough noise to catch his attention. he spun around, his flashlight sweeping the area where you had appeared.

peter took the opportunity to slip past, barely making a sound as he darted for the exit.

larry's flashlight landed on you for just a second before you teleported again, this time to the roof, heart racing as you reappeared beside peter.

"that was close," you breathed, watching as larry scratched his head below, completely unaware of what had just happened and probably blaming the hint of your figure on his sleep deprivation.

he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “you realize this was extremely stupid, right?”

you raised an eyebrow, not missing a beat. “what, you worried about me?”

peter shrugged, not quite meeting your eyes. “i mean, if you got caught, who else would pull me out of this mess?”

you gave him a playful shove. "please. i’d just teleport out, and you’d be stuck explaining to larry why you’re playing spider-man in a museum."

he grinned behind his mask, shaking his head. “you’re impossible, you know that?”

“yeah, well, you’re the one who drags me into these missions,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “besides, i saved your butt down there.”

peter held up the vase, the light glinting off it's surface. "i think we're even now. how about we call it a tie?"

you smirked. "tie? not a chance, parker. you owe me big time for this"

peter's eyes crinkled at the edges, the grin behind his mask unmistakable. “all right, all right. i’ll buy you dinner.”

“dinner?” you arched an eyebrow. “is that how you plan to repay me?”

he shrugged, but the mischievous spark in his eyes was impossible to miss. “seems fair, right?”

before you could reply, vision's voice chimed in over your comms. "y/n, peter, congratulations on a successful retrieval. the quinjet is ready for extraction."

peter gave a mock salute. "see? mission accomplished. we’re golden."

you couldn’t help but smile as you rolled your eyes. "fine, but next time, you get to deal with larry."

peter paused for a moment, tilting his head slightly. “you sure? i think larry kind of likes you. he was definitely staring a bit when you teleported in behind him.”

you scoffed, shaking your head as you turned to head for the extraction point. "do you ever stop staring at me?"

peter’s voice was soft but completely sincere as he jogged to catch up beside you. “no, not really.”

you shot him a sideways glance, trying not to let the warmth in his voice get to you. "smooth, parker."

he grinned again, slipping the vase into the protective case tony had provided. “hey, can’t help it. you’re kind of hard to ignore.”

"right," you muttered, suppressing a smile. "let’s just focus on not getting caught next time, yeah?”

“deal,” peter agreed, but his voice held that familiar teasing edge. "but maybe we should stick to flirting only after we’re out of danger.”

you rolled your eyes. “maybe you should stop flirting in near-death situations.”

peter shrugged, a playful glint still in his eye. “what can i say? i work best under pressure.”

#peter parker #peterparker #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #tom holland #tom holland spiderman #stark!reader #mcu peter parker x reader #mcu imagine #mcu peter parker #mcu fandom #marvel mcu #peter parker headcanon #hey stephen #tony stark #vision

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alfredosauce50 · 2 months ago

Text

These are the birthday headcanons for one of oldest fans and Patrons. It has a theme and plot, so it’ll be quite different than usual, having been heavily inspired by Night at the Museum and my Viking AU.

I hope you enjoy this, Tullah 😝

Viking Denmark in the modern world

After being thrown a thousand years into the future, he tries to make sense of the strange new world he’s in, and it’s nothing like Kattegat. More importantly, he goes searching for you, and by some astronomical chance, he finds you. But you’re not the same person he remembers, and you don’t recognize him at all.

Mathias had always told you having you in one life wasn’t enough. That he’d want to find you again in the next, then the one after that until the end of time. But now that the opportunity presents itself, would he even be able to have you?

Content warning: Brief NSFW and violence. R18+ only.

Origins

Mathias can trace his predicament back to his expedition to North America. He carelessly picks up a tribe’s religious relic, not realizing that it will grant his deepest desires. Having you in the next life, wherever — and whenever — that takes him. He goes to sleep, not knowing that upon waking up, he wouldn’t be in the same place, nor the same year. Instead, he opens his eyes and finds himself on a hard bench in Central Park in the company of pigeons. He sits up squinting from the sun, wondering what the hell just happened.

He’s not in America anymore, or at least, not the America he knows. There’s no natives, everyone is wearing strange clothing, and the concrete jungle is a bit nauseating. The buildings are so tall that they’re touching the sky, and there are self-driving carriages carrying people in them! To say he’s overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle of a modern city would be an understatement. But his first priority isn’t to figure out where he is, or when he is for that matter. It’s to look for you.

You’re waiting at a bus stop when he lays eyes on you, and time stops. He enters a realm beyond it, like everything just disappeared but you and him. Nothing matters anymore, not the strange world or era he was in, for you were here. He found you in this place, making this place his. He can barely describe the elation coursing through his body as he runs up to you, eyes wide and heart racing. But when Mathias takes your arms and speaks frantically over you, smile growing, you pull away from him as if he were nothing but a stranger.

“Let go!” You push him, much to his confusion.

“What are you talking about? It’s me!” Mathias talks excitedly, not quite registering the fear marring your expression. He comes for you again, laughing as he pulls you into a tight embrace. With your feet off the ground, you start squirming in his arms, frightened out of your wits. “I’m so glad to see you. I thought I’d never see you again! But really, what is this place?”

“I don’t know who you are, and I don’t know what you’re talking about, so could you leave me alone?” You try to pull away from his unrelenting hold on your shoulders. It’s only when passerby take notice of the situation do you have any hope of freeing yourself. They surround him and give him trouble, shoving him back to give you the chance to flee. “You’re crazy!”

You manage to get onboard while leaving him behind, but Mathias chases after your bus like a furious bride left at the altar. And the way he runs is terrifying. He’s charging after you like a bull, following you street after street for an ungodly amount of time before you eventually lose him. One part of you is relieved that you just escaped a maniac who was likely having a mental health episode, but another part of you is wondering that if by some slim chance that everything he said was justified, who on Earth was this guy?

Taking him under your wing

It takes while before you see him again, but even longer before he convinces you to want anything to do with him. You’ll bump into him in the city where he’s sticking out like a sore thumb, still in the clothes he came in, and when that happens, he’ll chase you desperately for a conversation. Luckily, even he can’t quite master the bustling chaos of New York, let alone outrun a moving car. “Wait, just give me a chance to explain, please. I’m not crazy—” He begs as you get into a cab, to where you just yell, “—just stay away from me!”

After a few more chance encounters, you start to feel sorry for him. He clearly needs your help, and what finally changes your heart is seeing him live in a homeless encampment roasting pigeons so he can eat them. Mathias even offers you one, leading you to believe that he doesn’t mean any harm, but is otherwise very mentally disturbed. “I’m gonna get you some help, okay? Don’t make me regret it.” You tell him, leading the man out of the alleyway and to your car. He jogs after you with a relieved grin going, “I promise you won’t.”

He gets fascinated by everything in your house. The furniture, the kitchen appliances, running water, everything. But that also means you need to teach him how to function in the world as it is. How to use cutlery, the phone, public transport. Good thing is that he’s intelligent and adaptable, so he’ll get the hang of everything in a week. His social mannerisms, however, still need a lot of tweaking. The way he talks to strangers can be passive-aggressive, and he stares a lot. People in New York are like nobody he’s ever seen, and he won’t hesitate to point it out to you all the time.

“What are you doing with your fingers?” He frowns, watching his taxi driver rub his fingertips together.

“I was asking for a tip,” They grin.

“What is a tip?” Mathias asks, his accent and foreign background now more jarring than ever.

“You know, when you think I did a good job and you feel like paying me a little extra for it?” The man says sheepishly, hoping to get lucky with who was clearly a rich tourist. “Just common courtesy around here.”

“But you did not do a good job.” He leans back.

You’re tempted to think he’s a runaway from a mental hospital. And one that’s suffering from delusions that he’s a Viking who time-traveled to present day America as he keeps talking about it. To make things worse, he doesn’t have any form of ID, and you’re hesitant to take him to the cops. You decide to keep him at home while you figure this out, hoping that he’d be gone in a few days. “What can I do to convince you I’m not mad?” Mathias sighs, to where you smile, “You’ll think of something. But it’d probably take a miracle.”

He comes onto you. Mathias has always been an incredibly affectionate husband, and by today’s standards, maybe even too forthcoming to the point of it being problematic. So it’s a given that something will happen eventually. While you’re in the kitchen chopping up vegetables, he’ll wrap around you from behind and press his face to yours — much to your protest. “Stop that, Mat. We’re not like that.” But he just grumbles and stays put, expression hardening as he presses even harder. “Of course we are. You’re my wife.”

He tries to kiss you all the time. With his mouth open and tongue is ready for you, he’s quite the menace when he’s in the mood for some love. You obviously respond by pushing him away, sometimes to the point of shoving him so hard that he stumbles back and plummets onto the bed. Mathias will just sigh and look to the side, a little disheartened, but after a moment of waiting for you to let your guard down, he’ll shoot up like nothing and go back to you to try again. After all, he’s faced your refusal of his advances before.

“Mat, I have a boyfriend. He won’t take kindly to you doing things like this.” You shoot him a heated look.

“Boyfriend?” He laughs breathily over you, pressing his forehead to yours gingerly. “What is a boyfriend?”

Interestingly, Mathias is not that bothered by the fact that you have someone. A boyfriend sounds like nothing compared to what he is. To him, it’s more like playful competition that he can’t take seriously. He’s just that sure of your love for him. It’s only if your ‘boyfriend’ tried anything in front of him that he’d lose his mind, which, fortunately hasn’t happened yet. In the end, he’d probably need you to break the spell and to return home, so if he isn’t able to have you, you’re stuck with him forever anyway. Not that he’s complaining.

You can’t grasp the magnitude of his feelings, nor what it truly means to be his. How could you? You’ve never met the man in your life, but he’s known you for all of his. It’s unsettling how sure he is about you, as well as how comfortable he is around you. He won’t always put in an effort to be decent in the house even when you tell him to, even to the point of being naked. Nudity is no big deal to a Viking, so imagine how he’d feel about being told off by you — his spouse. “What’s the matter, kæreste? Never seen a real man before?”

To remedy this imbalance, he tells you about all the memories he’s made with you. And the way he talks about you is as if he really knows you. Mathias is aware of so many things that would otherwise be impossible without you telling him, such as your habits, likes, dislikes, and the way you think. It’s mesmerizing and magical, just as if he was your lover from a past life. It’s crazy how well he gets on with you, and your chemistry with him is so natural, you start to wonder if you could really love him the way he always says you do.

“I won’t put dill in this. It won’t be the same but you don’t like the taste,” He murmurs as he works in the kitchen. He’s making salmon with a cream sauce, and all you can think about is that he somehow picked up on something you’ve never mentioned.

“How did you know I don’t like dill?” You lift your eyes to him quickly, gaze softening out of pure wonder.

“How could I not?” He smiles gently before returning to the stove. It’s only been a week, and he’s already mastered cooking. “I haven’t been lying to you, eskler. I’ve known you ever since we were children.”

At night, he’ll leave the guest room you told him to stay in and come into your bedroom. There’s nothing you can do as he crawls into bed with you, even wrapping himself around you until all you can feel is him. His arms are coiled around your stomach, and he’s pressing so hard against you that you can feel his bulge from behind. One of his hands goes up to your neck, holding it in a possessive, yet glaringly erotic bid for affection. It’s wrong of you to let him do this, but his touch just feels so right, you let yourself give in to him.

You start having lots of close calls with Mathias. He sometimes stand inches away from your face with your lips so close together, you would’ve ended up kissing him if you didn’t turn away last minute. When you do, he chuckles lowly and says this in a tender voice. “I promise we’ve done a lot more than kissing, eskler. We’re adults, after all.” Otherwise, his stare on you is always too hot for you to stomach, almost as if he has something else on his mind. He makes it obvious that he’s obsessed with you, and he’s losing his patience.

He chases you like crazy. It takes him back to the time before you married him, and that gets his blood pumping like never before. He will corner you against the kitchen counter and won’t let you leave without kissing him. Then, against all your morals, you actually do, which ends up with you two in the bedroom, half-naked and about to make love. Something about him feels so warm and familiar, you don’t act like yourself around him. It’s as if he’s put a spell on you, turning your mind inside out until you can’t think straight.

“I shouldn’t be doing this, Mat. This is wrong on so many levels,” You tear up as you climb off him.

“No it’s not. You know it’s not,” He frowns deeply, taking your hand before you can even get off the bed. He’s that high-strung about you, it’s impossible for you to get any space from him at all. Mathias is just constantly on your back, always pulling you back to him, again and again. “You know I’m the one for you.”

“How could I? Some stranger starts following me around like a puppy and I let them into my home?” You gush, red in the face from shame. Now that you said it out loud, it sounded a lot worse than what you originally thought. “And I was just about to sleep with them? God, I must be out of mind. I have to be!”

“But you’re not! Me being here is proof that you’re not crazy because it was you that brought me here. We belong to each other,” He exclaims passionately, his eyes burning with so much certainty you start caving again. But how could you give in when none of this made any sense, and was cruel to Alfred, who had no idea of everything you were doing behind his back? “You’re mine in all the lives you will ever live.”

Alfred eventually catches wind of what you’re doing. You still haven’t figured out how to explain this to him, and you’ve just been so distracted by Mathias, you’ve been putting reality on the back burner. But that all ends when he swings by unannounced with some food to surprise you. However, he’s in for quite the surprise himself. Mathias is in the living room watching TV while you’re typing on your laptop on the dining table, but that’s when he hears jingling behind the door, so he get up and comes over to your side.

“Hey, babe. They had a pop-up sale on some cookies so I thought I’d drop by,” Alfred speaks mindlessly as he enters your apartment with his spare key, and that is when he lays eyes on Mathias. He is visibly startled as he stops in place, but he keeps his composure. “Oh. I didn’t know you had company. Who’s this?”

When worlds collide

Like any other normal person, Alfred blows up on you when you tell him he’s been staying over the last two weeks. After all, what man in their right mind would be okay with their girlfriend living with another man and not tell them about it? You’d have to come up with some pretty good excuses to justify that, and with the way Mathias is holding you, things aren’t looking good for you. His hands are both sides of your waist like they belong there, and he’s giving the dirtiest look to your boyfriend like he’s the unwelcome one here.

“You need to get him out now.” Alfred demands.

“You don’t understand.” You close your eyes.

“What’s there to understand? That you’ve been living with another guy for the past two weeks and haven’t told me?” He seethes, nostrils flaring. The growing volume of the room alarms Mathias, who stands in front of you protectively. “Not that I’d even let you, but don’t you think you’re crossing the line here?”

“He’s homeless, and he’s not right in the head—”

“So is half of New York, but you don’t see me taking anybody in!” He gestures to the Dane like an alien.

“He’s not from this time period, okay?” You exhale.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Alfred squints, not at all prepared for what you were about to tell him. “Like he’s from another generation that’s somehow okay with their girlfriends living with other guys?”

“No, I mean he’s a time traveler. He’s a real, bonafide Viking from more than a thousand years ago,” You let it slip, watching his brows go up. “And I know that sounds crazy, but I didn’t believe it at first either.”

“Yeah, you’re right, that is pretty crazy,” Alfred scoffs, shaking his head in utter disbelief, but above all else, a sharp pang of betrayal. “If this is a prank, just know that I really hate it and I’m very disappointed in you.”

“But it’s not, I promise! Why would I pull something that could jeopardize our relationship?” You frown.

“I guess so,” He mumbles, albeit a little reluctantly. “But just run me through your thought process here. How did you come to the conclusion he broke the laws of physics and somehow leapt through time?”

“Well, I took him to the doctor yesterday and he had a bunch of diseases that are impossible to have now.”

“Oh,” He makes a face, shocked and disturbed by how on the nose your explanation was. Now he was really worried you were actually telling the truth. “What else? I mean, you can’t actually believe that—”

“—he speaks Old Norse fluently, doesn’t know what Wi-Fi is, and doesn’t even know to use a toilet.”

“Wow, okay.”

“And I’m sure the Danish are familiar with toilets.”

“Right.”

“And look at him. Doesn’t he look just like Mathias Densen, the Viking earl that lived more than a thousand years ago?” You ask him, pulling up your phone to show him a few images off a website.

“Shit, you’re right.” He digs a hand through his hair.

Your boyfriend is cordial at the start, especially with how bizarre all of this is. He’s also excited to talk to a real Viking, so he springs a bunch of questions on Mathias out of curiosity. The way the Dane answers them only confirms you were in fact, not lying, so he quickly gets onboard with the mission to send him back to the past. You’re all in the kitchen when Alfred drops the bomb on Mathias ever so casually while sipping on a mug. He’s sure you’ve wondered about the same thing, it’s just that he has it in him to actually ask it.

“So, how many people do you think you’ve killed?”

“I don’t know. Maybe hundreds.”

“And does that ever keep you up at night?”

“No, I sleep like a baby.”

“Thought you would.”

Things start to get heated once Mathias reveals that he’s in love with you and has no intentions of giving you up. Alfred was willing to be hospitable at first, but he doesn’t play about you, not even if he’s going up against a warlord turned King. This is his realm, and he won’t hesitate to use that to his advantage to threaten a man who otherwise is impossible to threaten. Not that he thinks he needs to, because he trusts you to stay loyal to him. Little does he know, Mathias has a profound effect on you that not even you can understand.

“You’re never gonna have her. I won’t let you,” Alfred says in a monotone, his expression unreadable as he stares straight at the man. He’s taken on a cold and calculating attitude, a far cry from the excitable nerd he used to be. But Mathias isn’t afraid of him at all.

“Then you will never be free of me.” The Dane smiles contentedly, eyes closed for a relaxed demeanor.

“I’d hate to be that person, but I could always call ICE on you for being undocumented,” Alfred raises his brows at him while he speaks in all seriousness, “I’d do that just so you’d leave my girlfriend alone.”

Shit finally hits the fan when Mathias walks in on you and Alfred in the bedroom. You’re riding him when the door opens, and your head whips to it out of shock. In the next few seconds, everything goes from zero to a hundred as something snaps in Mathias — he’s thrown into a hot and crazed mania, driven insane by the sight of you making love to someone else. The look behind his eyes is as if he’s completely gone, and he storms over with the intention to murder Alfred on the spot. “Mathias, no!” You plead, but it falls on deaf ears.

He pulls him off you and punches him so hard, blood sprays from his nose. But that’s not all. Mathias picks Alfred up by the neck, holding him inches above the ground to choke him to death. If he has to kill him with his bare hands, so be it. And he gets dangerously close to doing it when you smash a vase over his head, getting him to loosen his grip. You help Alfred escape with the skin of his teeth while screaming viciously at him. “Get out. Get the fuck out!” You cry, shoving him back again and again. “And never come back!”

After getting discharged from his hospital stay, Alfred goes looking for Mathias. It’s not the first thing that should be coming to mind after the guy almost offed him, but he has to resolve this once and for all. Because at this rate, someone would really end up killed. And he had a feeling that someone would be him. After a few days of scouring the city, he finds the Dane in an alley in front of a burn barrel and warming his hands. Without even greeting each other, they find that they’re already on the same page about this.

“You don’t belong here.” Alfred tells him point-blank.

“I know,” Mathias murmurs, keeping his gaze fixed on the flickering flames. “But she doesn’t either.”

“Ha! She’s lived here since she was a baby.”

“And she’s lived in Kattegat since she was a baby.”

“Have you not once considered she’s not the (F/N) you know? Yours is probably still in 1000AD wondering where you went,” Alfred shakes his head, frankly exasperated by the other’s stubbornness.

“Then why would I be here if she were not? There has to be a reason for me being here,” Mathias turns to him for a disgruntled look, but above all else was how determined he sounded. “She must be the reason.”

Going back to the past

Alfred goes to the library to do some research on the relic that Mathias picked up. Turns out, it can grant the user what they want most, only with a slight catch. It gives them the means to attaining their deepest desires, not the whole deal. And to reverse the spell, the user has to fulfill their wish completely before having that kind of freedom. So in other words, he has to get you to fall in love with him if he ever wants to return to Kattegat. “Well, it looks like you’re gonna be stuck here as a hobo forever. Not my problem.” Alfred shrugs.

Mathias isn’t disheartened by those terms, even if you did just kick him out for trying to murder your boyfriend. You’ve hated him once, just like you hate him now, so this is just a repeat of the past. As much as that bothers him, he knows he can do this because he’s done it before. Alfred, on the other hand, isn’t convinced he can pull this off at all. While he’s putting back the books he used, he wonders what’s left for the Viking now that they’ll be stranded in modern day America without even two dimes to rub together.

“So, what are you gonna do now that you’re never going back to Kattegat? You have nowhere to stay.”

“But I am going back.” Mathias lifts his gaze to him.

“How?” He shakes his head, eyes narrowed.

“I have my ways.”

“What ways? She thinks you’re an axe-waving megalomaniac, for fuck’s sake. You tried to kill me!”Alfred whispers that last part furiously while pointing an accusing finger at the man, who showed not even the slightest dash of remorse. “And you almost did!”

“And that mean she cannot love me?”

“Yes!” He blurts it like it’s the most obvious point he ever made, but something was still not clicking.

“You underestimate our passion for one another,” Mathias smiles sagely to himself as he recollects the raunchier memories he made with you. And he isn’t afraid to disclose that information to the other man. “When we were together, we made love every night.”

“Okay, I did not need to know that.”

“She was always with child.”

“Didn’t need to know that either!”

It’s understandably very tense between you two at first. Mathias will show up at your door, and still in the last outfit he was wearing when you kicked him out, only for you to shut it in his face. He does this a few more times before resorting to sleeping outside your door, because it’s not like he has anywhere else to go anyway. He’ll do anything for you to forgive him, even if it’s at the expense of your kindness since he’s starving at this point. After days of lying outside your home, you take him in out of fear for his well-being.

When he’s back at your place, he behaves well. He actively helps around the house, doing chores without you asking, and doesn’t even bother you for your affection. You’re barely tolerating him, and you don’t see that changing anytime soon. However, you get a phone call from Alfred that changes everything. Just when you thought you would be keeping Mathias at arm’s length out of respect for what he did to him, your boyfriend is now telling you to throw all of that overboard and do the unthinkable. Giving your heart to him.

“Is Mathias back at yours?”

“Yes, but only because he was starving. Why?”

“Well, we had a little talk and we figured it was best to let everything run its course,” Alfred says. He goes on to explain what he found out about Mathias, the relic, the spell, then how to send him back home.

He also tells you that if everything goes right, you’ll still be here. So if he has to give you up until then, he will, no matter how much it hurts. There’s also some part of you that’s not really you, which explains a lot.

A lot being why you were so uncharacteristically receptive to Mathias in the first place. But as soon as he gets sent home, you’ll return to your normal self again, which is everything Alfred could ever want.

Mathias eases his way back onto your good side. Aside from being a good roommate and giving you space, he will sneak some lingering touches until he works his way up to talking and hugging again. It works better than you like, but Alfred did say you weren’t yourself. You are your past self, or at least partially, but it’s more than enough for a soft spot to form for him. Before you know it, it’s routine for you to sit on his lap and talk to him at night. While nothing happens, it becomes undeniable what’s developing between you two.

“Is it okay for me to put my hand here?” He whispers, letting his palm hover over the side of your face, and you answer him by simply press your cheek into it. You’re looking at him in a way you never had before, with so much love and tenderness that he feels like he’s back home. But then again, you are his home.

You start having dreams about your past. And it’s all so vivid, it feels real. Little do you know, it is, because what you’re experiencing are visions of the life you once lived. Playing with him as a kid, getting chased by him in adulthood, and finally marrying him in the sweet, cypress-scented air. Sailing to new, unknown lands just to give you a better life and a place to raise a family with him. All of it is so familiar, and the memory of Mathias is so beautiful that you end up waking in tears, aching for what feels like a dream of a dream.

Overtime, you remember more about yourself until you’re no longer the person Alfred knows, but the person Mathias does. It’s like your past self is fighting to wake, then on that one fateful night, everything just falls into place. With only one glance at you, he knows you’ve come back to him. You’re staring at him with your eyes wide and lips trembling, almost as if you hadn’t seen him in years. He smiles warmly as he opens his arms for you to run into, and you practically plow into them with tears running down your face.

“Take me home, Mat. I wanna go home.” You whisper into his chest, squeezing him as tight as you can.

“We will, kæreste. You’re gonna take us home now.” He wraps around you assuringly, kissing your head.

The next morning, you and Mathias wake up in the bedroom of your longhouse. He remembers everything that happened, but strangely enough, you have no recollection of being in New York or having a boyfriend there. When he tries asking you about it, you shoot him a weird look and go,“Who’s Alfred?” On the other side of the timeline, Alfred looks for you at your apartment after you text him to come over for dinner. When he does, he notices that Mathias is gone, and upon asking about it, you shake your head. “Who’s Mathias?”

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