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fvsm4x · 3 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…

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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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reidmania · 6 months ago

Text

you are in love | spencer reid

part one, loml

summary; a year after jj’s wedding, you run into spencer at at museum only this time the difference between now and your relationship isn’t so much of a bad thing.

warnings; angst and fluff, new beginnings, fresh start, exes to lovers, hopeful/ happy ending, they are in love, they are my babies i love them, not edited bc my work is never edited, fem reader, no use of y/n cus EWWWW

2.2k words

an; since there was so many you are in love references in part one i thought it was fitting. thank u.

‘One look, dark room, meant just for you. Time moved too fast you play it back. Buttons on a coat, light-hearted joke, no proof, not much but you saw enough. Small talk, he drives, coffee at midnight. The light reflects, the chain on your neck. He says, "Look up" and your shoulders brush. no proof, one touch, but you felt enough’

Beige rough detailing ran over walls, warm air flooded the space as couples and friends — even families walked around. The shadows of each item showcased cascading down onto the floor.

The room was lit dimly by warm yellow lights that strayed from overly intricate chandeliers. The only sound was quiet mumbles and soft conversation from the people surrounding, gentle voices as if anything too loud may break one of the valuables.

Your eyes danced over a painting that hung on the wall, your eyes skimming over minor details as the a-ray of warm and cool toned blues and purples covered the canvas. What had given you the idea to come to the museum alone? You weren’t sure.

Maybe the need for distraction, or perhaps a break from the real world that seemed all too busy lately. Time seemed slower between the beautifully structured walls. Everything seemed delicate, and softer than the harsh of the world outside this building.

You walked around for a while before finding your way into a room that others crowded into. It was dark, apart from a few blue lights that came from under a table in the middle of the room. You weren’t sure what you were looking at — you also weren’t sure you cared when your eyes lifted and your mind grew empty of any thought.

There was a moment where your eyes just danced over the side of his face, the curve of his nose and lining of his jaw. Overgrown hair dragging down his forehead. Then his head turned and his eyes met yours.

Of course you would see Spencer. Of course the one time you decide to go out by yourself, to a place so beautiful. You would see him.

He fit right in, suit jacket over his shoulders, tie buried under a sweater vest. He was as beautiful as the architecture around you, looking as delicate as the items being showcased. You were sure outside of this room his dark suit and hair would contrast the beige elegance of the walls.

His eyes filled with something, a secret language that lingered between the two of you in the air. Almost a greeting but not quite. A soft smile lined his lips. The side of his face glowing different hues of blue as he stood in line with the table.

A year. It had been just over a year since JJ’s wedding. A year since you saw Spencer last. A year since a promise was made and broken between the two of you.

Three years since your world shifted and never quite found its balance again.

You smiled at him, before your gaze dropped down to the table but any idea you had of focusing on the sight before you disappeared as your mind filled with him.

Everyone around you and their gentle whispers of appreciation fell into silence for you. Everything besides him becoming a blur as you separated yourself from the reality of the world around you and back into the made up fairy tail in your head.

You spent a lot of time trying to grasp the fact that you had seen him, you had been given an opening a year ago, and you had failed to take it for what reason? You couldn’t name one now even though you were sure at the time you had one.

The room seemed warmer with his presence in it. Not uncomfortably warmer, not too warm but sort of like a hug in the dark of the night or the feeling of cold hands against a fresh cup of coffee.

When the crowd began to dwindle away from the room towards the exit, you followed. That until you heard the gruff of the familiar voice behind you.

“Hey stranger.” It seemed ironic really. His choice of words.

You turned on your heels, eyes meeting his. “Hi Spencer.” You breathed out. People walked around the two of you. Maybe you got a few looks but none that gained either of your attention.

He paused slightly — one thing you weren’t expecting was awkwardness. You and Spencer had never been awkward, a year ago you fell back into rhythm after a few shared words. Now it seemed different, the air seemed thicker.

“You uh.. You never called.” He said, his voice hesitant to bring it up. You almost wished he didn’t. You partly enjoyed the ignorance you both had chose to live in at the wedding, that everything was okay, that everything was normal and that maybe it would work.

You shifted slightly on your feet, hands coming to fidget with the sleeves of your knitted sweater, that blended in with the neutral tones around you. You thought back to the night of the wedding, his whispered repetition.

‘Don’t be a stranger’ He had said the same thing when the two of you broke up. You had assumed he was aware of that. You assumed he understood what his words indicated based off your history.

They were less of a, ‘hey! call me!’ and more of a, ‘i’m sorry about what happened and the fact things are different’ They were three years ago, and they were a year ago.

“I didn’t know you were serious.” You admitted. Your mind began to dwell on every word said since. His greeting. Was that as meaningful as his whispered words.

Stranger. He greeted you as a stranger and although you were aware of the common saying and reasoning behind it for everyone else. Now, knowing he was serious about his whole ‘don’t be a stranger’ thing, you wondered if they held a heavier implication of what had happened between you two — or what hadn’t.

His eyebrows knitted together in confusion as he waited a moment before he spoke. He cleared his throat, “I was..” He mumbled, his hands rubbing against the sides of his suit jacket for a moment before dangling by his sides.

You weren’t sure what to say. “I didn’t know.” You settled on. He let out a huff, a hum of acknowledgment before he looked around. The room was now void of others. Leaving you and him alone in the blue lit room.

“You know um- Blue lights actually help elevate brain function and boots alertness— Which um, I could feel someone looking at me. I wasn’t expecting to be you but I’m glad at it was.” He mumbled out and your heart warmed at the familiarity of his beautiful brain.

Your cheeks too warmed, when he brought up the fact he had noticed your eyes on him. You wondered if it was really because of the alertness that the lighting produced or more the fact that your eyes were filled with such heavy emotion the strength of your gaze was unavoidable. You didn’t know if the human brain was that aware, and while you were sure Spencer would, you decided against answering.

“You’re alone.” You stated, brain fogged.

He let out a slight chuckle as he nodded, eyes running down the features of your face. “So are you.” He stated in the same sort of tone. Wondering what your point was, and you weren’t sure you had one.

“I was observing.” You mumbled out, a defensive for your random statement. His lips parted as they tugged into a smile.

He tilted his head slightly, “You’re beautiful.” He said. Your eyes widened momentarily. He snorted at your reaction as your lips parted in lack of a response. What were you suppose to say when your heart felt like it was being squeezed of all life.

There was new something in the air around you. Something similar in the look in his eye and the gentleness of his smile, the same something fluttering around in your stomach.

“I thought we were observing.” He mumbled out, shrugging simply.

You huffed at his quick wit and the light hearted playfulness. It made the air feel less heavy of history. A smile on your lips as you shook your head. You looked behind you, over your shoulder at the door before your gaze returned to Spencer.

“Do uh.. Would you want to walk around with me? Would that be weird?” You asked, almost half terrified of what his response might be. All too aware of the fact he could laugh in your face and turn away — although you knew deep down he wouldn’t.

He smiled, “Id like that.” He mumbled softly. His eyes staying on yours. The two of you stayed in the same position for a moment, just looking at one another. Your eyes having a conversation of their own, before you let out a soft laugh and dropped your head, turning to walk away, he followed.

You found yourselves walking beside one another. No words shared really. There was no pressure to talk about what had happened a year ago, or two years before that. There was no underlying tension or bitterness.

You stopped in front of a large painting that took up the space on a plain wall. Having the entirety of the space to itself. The canvas was covered by greens and cool toned browns, causing the pink of the flower to stand out.

“Do you know what flowers they are?” Spencer asked, his eyes never leaving the painting as he stood beside you. Your eyes ran along the details of the artwork. Taking in every inch of it.

You nodded, “Lotus’. It’s a lotus pond.” You mumbled out as you recognised the flower. He hummed in acknowledgment and recognition. A sort of validation you didn’t know you craved until you received it.

“Lotus flowers normally represent new beginnings. Lotus ponds symbolise beauty and growth. A lot of people believe that they are very spiritual and can represent rebirth and resurrection.” He mumbled out, you were silent for a moment as you listened to him talk.

Your eyes flickered to his for a moment, his gaze shifted to you. There was a shared glance, a weight lifted. Then you both as if in unison turned back to the painting. Admiring it in silence, appreciating one another’s presence without the distribution of conversation.

There was a lot to be said but none of it seemed important when his shoulder brushed against yours momentarily. You didn’t pull your gaze away from the painting, neither did he. The silence spoke a million words, the gentle touch, a million more.

There was an announcement over the speakers of the museum causing a damp in the quiet appreciation from the people around you. It was an alert that in half an hour they would be closing in half an hour. You hadn’t realise it had gotten that late.

Spencer turned to face you. You saw it in your peripheral vision but you kept your gaze on the painting wordlessly. His eyes lingered on the side of your face before he spoke, breaking the warm silence that wrapped around the two of you like a bubble away from the outside world.

“Im glad you’re a stranger.” He started, which caused your eyebrows to furrow as you turned your head towards him, a flicker of offensive covering your features for a moment before he laughed and shook his head.

“No- I didn’t- Not like that. Just- We were so young and everything was new and exciting and I felt so much- I feel so much for you. That never changed even if we have. I want to know who you are now. I want to learn everything new about you.” He said. His voice was quiet as if he was trying to keep that warm bubble around the two of you.

Any offence you felt disappeared within seconds. Your heart tightened in your chest at his sweet words. The recognition that things were indeed different, that you both had changed and that they wouldn’t be the same as they were all those years ago.

And that it didn’t have to be a bad thing.

“I’d like that.” You exhaled out. He smiled, and so did you.

He looked around for a moment, breaking the eye contact. The secret language shared between glances you learnt all those years ago, before he turned his gaze back to you. An almost playful look in his eyes.

“Hi. Im Spencer Reid. I’d shake your hand but a lot of germs are spread through hand shaking — not that i think you have germs, well everyone has germs— I um.. I think you’re really pretty and I was wondering if you would like to go out with me sometime”

Your eyes widened at his ramble. You recognised it. The same way he had approached you five years ago in a cafe. You were partly shocked he remembered it off by heart, he was more nervous back then.

You snorted, unable to take the situation seriously. A wide smile on your lips as you attempted to play along through half hidden laughter. “Hi Spencer.” You re-introduced yourself, “I’d love to go out with you sometime.”

He smiled, the same sort of smile on his lips that was on yours. His gaze held yours. Everything was different between now and then, the look in his eye then was full of anxiety and awkwardness, doing anything to avoid your gaze.

Now, his eyes stayed on yours and were full of nothing but pure admiration and love.

Maybe not everything was different.

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dredgesnails · 10 months 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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quirekey · 2 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 · 6 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 · 5 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 · 4 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 · 6 months ago

Text

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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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 · 4 months ago

Text

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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reveryfics · 23 days ago

Text

Lost In Doubt

Marc Spector x male reader

Summary: Marc was struggling to keep being Moon Knight separate from his relationship. His constant disappearances and lack of communication were leaving you in doubt.

A/N: I'm back from hiatus with a long soft smut one-shot. 2.3k words

The anxiety was starting to kick in. You could feel it-the nerves kicking in again. Anticipation-a overwhelming feeling of doubt that crept through your entire being-it made your hands clay. You rubbed the sweat from your hands onto your pants, the harsh jean fabric not so comforting in the moment.

Acceptance-when it was evident Marc was most likely not showing up, again.

Extravagant dates had never been a big deal to you nor Marc. Sure, it was a nice privilege every now and again to sit down at a fancy restaurant with your boyfriend. To laugh together, to share stories of your days, to enjoy one another's company. But even then, you'd rather sit in the loft wrapped in Marc, or even Stevens arms as the two of you watched a movie.

If only Marc wasn't so admit and made a big deal about a date, then never show up.

“Sir?” The familiar timbre of a voice brought you back from your thoughts; deep and tunneling as you transfixed on the possibilities of what Marc could be doing. You know even if it was Steven, he wouldn't have forgotten such an event.

Your eyes widened with feigned curiosity, an uneasy smile plastered alongside to hopefully negate any annoyance you'd caused the waiter.

“I'm sorry sir,” he shifted awkwardly. You look around, surprised by the amount of patrons and couples that had flooded in within the past forty five minutes. Laughter and smiles completely lit up the room, and yet your sollum look pierced the happiness. The lights positioned around the restaurant had seemingly become spot lights, detailing your ‘dinner for one’. “We have more tables to fill, and if you aren't going to order anything, then we'll have to give your table to the next party.”

“Oh, right.” You pulled your phone out to check your messages again. Nothing. Even swiping down to refresh your texts with Marc yielded no new messages.

“I'll head out.” It was embarrassing. Even if the waiter had given sympathetic glances your way, you hated knowing that you waisted his and your own time.

You hated that you hoped things would be different.

The night was dreary. Rain had greeted you the moment you stepped out. Soft and fluttering against your skin, but harsh enough to make you put your coat on. Luckily, your flat wasn't to far from the restaurant, a twenty minute walk at most if you sped-walked there. Shoving your hands in your pockets, you ambled along the sidewalk, wallowing in your feelings as the sound of London night life belted in your ears.

You didn't have the energy left to hurry home.

Once you'd crossed the last intersection, you felt a little more at ease. Seeing the familiar apartment building at the end of the block your pace picked up.

You reached into your pocket, pulling out your wallet and keys you'd haphazardly shoved in there. In the midst you caught a glimpse of a photo print of Marc, his body turned slightly towards you as he peered up towards a statue of the Egyptian Goddess Hathor. Honeymoon phase, they called it. Where you were beginning to discover more about one another, likes, dislikes, hobbies, memories, even how Marc had DID. It felt like yesterday that you two were spending the day at the museum.

Now, it was a miracle if Marc returned a call or text.

With the keys in your hand, you turned the corner, and towards the entrance, the vivid echo of Marc begging you to delete the picture because ‘he wasn't looking’ echoing in your head.

If only you had been focused on where you were going instead of the photo, maybe you could have avoided the collision with the door. You stumbled back, hand holding your face as the sting slowly faded away yet the throbbing in your forehead remained.

“Oh god-” If the beating your face had taken from the door hadn't snapped you out of reverie, the familiar face before you certainly brought you back. Your vision began to clear of haze, as if his simple presence was helping.

“Baby?” Marc cut himself off, his eyes widening. You could see the wheels turning when the dim light of a nearby street lamp illuminated your features: eyes, nose, lips; all that he was well acquainted with.

“Marc-” you took a moment to scan him. It was like all the other times he's been late. His curls; stuck to his forehead with a mixture of sweat and rain droplets. His knuckles; bruised and torn with miniscule cuts. His button up; clumsily buttoned up and crooked.

“W-what are you doing here? Are you okay? Oh god your nose.” Breathless, panting, not only because he was panicking from running late, but also because you were hurt.

“I'm fine-” You whispered, wiping your nose against the back of your hand, only to see a smear of blood blotted against your skin. “Damn-”

“Marc, it's just a nosebleed.” You applied pressure to the bridge of your nose, pinching it tightly to stop the blood. All while your head was tilted over the sink.

Marc mumbled something under his breath, grabbing your chin and tilting your head back as he wet a cloth in the sink.

Marc's touch was delicate. Tender, like the forming bruise on your forehead. He was adamant on cleaning your face-though you would've done it much faster had he let you.

“All done. Not so bad huh?” He was trying to lighten the mood, if the small smile across his face was any indication.

“Thanks, Marc.” For a brief moment, you forgot why you were so upset about earlier. All because it was nice to actually have Marc there with you.

“So, about our date…”

“Oh,” Embarrassment etched onto Marc's face. You could see it, even if he tried to hide it. “Listen, I- Steven got caught up at work and-”

“Marc,” You sighed, pushing off the sink and walking into the bedroom. “You said that last time, and before that.”

“Figured you'd fall for it again?” He was clearly joking, but even he wasn't laughing at it because he'd been called out. Embarrassed that he believed it would work. Again.

“Marc.” You called out, tossing aside your shoes and wet overcoat before straightening yourself against the headboard.

Marc sat at the edge of the mattress. “I…..I don't know how to..” The veins in his hands popped, the light illuminating new scraps, and bruises on his knuckles. Clear as day now. “I just….”

He rubbed his hands against his pants, staring anywhere but you, anything to alleviate the anxiety.

You were hopeful to finally get an answer from him. A proper explanation. But it pained you, knowing what could be said-what might be true about his actions.

“If you want to break up, just say it.”

It sounded softer in your head, then when you spoke, but the tears that were welling in your eyes that finally spilled told a different story.

Something had made it slip.

Maybe it was a slip of the tongue, or perhaps the months of frustration that had accumulated where you'd been so lost in doubt, snowballed because of your own selfishness and want to be with Marc.

“What? No, that's not-” He jolted up at the mere mention of those words. He joined you. “I would never-”

Marc was panicking, he'd never seen you like this before. And to think he was the root of this-of the pain you were feeling.

“Marc, there's always something going on with you. Y-you don't text me for days. You ignore calls. You suddenly disappear for days without a word. And….and Steven won't even tell me anything, plus you're always hurt in some way.” You took a breath, a gulp because you were rambling now. Your cheeks felt hot, from the sudden outburst of emotions.

“Please Marc, what is it?”

Marc bit his lip, as if he was debating something. A decision that could either ruin this relationship, him, or you.

You waited, watched as he fiddled with his fingers as the screws kept turning in his head. Your heart jumped every time he opened his mouth, anticipating whatever he was about to tell you.

Nothing. Silence.

“I'm worried Marc.” Your gaze dropped to his hands again. Veiny, trembling, and full of life yet they've been worn down. Torn.

“You can't tell anyone.” His voice softened.

“I won't.” You muttered, watching as Marc stood from the bed and wandered towards the window. He pulled back the curtains letting the moonlight seep into the bedroom.

His body slowly became enveloped by wraps similar to those used on mummies, his eyes glowed a bright white until his entire body was enveloped by a suit.

“Just to clarify.” You mumbled, eyes wide as your fingers traced over each and every inch of Marc's suit and body, the fabric a pleasant texture under your fingers. “You're an avatar to the Egyptian god Konshu?”

Marc nodded, his eyes following your fingers as they touched his body. “You aren't mad?” Your hands suddenly came to a halt when Marc took them and led the two of you to the bed and laid against it.

“Mad? No, I just wish you said something sooner.” You admitted in a quiet tone, as you noticed just how battered Marc's skin was under the light.

It felt nice when you pressed your body against his, the way your hands felt against his bare skin. “I'm sorry, I was worried something could happen to you, or that Konshu would see you as a possible contract when mine is up.”

Marc exhaled, the air between you thick with unspoken desire. His body descended, a slow, deliberate descent that mirrored the pounding of your heart. You found yourself beneath him, a canvas for his touch, his gaze. His hands, strong and sure, captured your wrists, pinning them above your head, your arms outstretched like wings. Your legs parted instinctively, an invitation, only to be met with his own. He entwined them around his waist, a possessive claim, his body a warm, heavy weight settling upon yours.

His kiss was a storm, a whirlwind of passion that stole your breath away. You tasted him, the metallic tang of arousal, the sweet surrender of your senses.

"Is this your way of making amends?" you murmured against his lips, your voice a breathless whisper.

He broke away, his eyes burning with a possessive fire. "Is that a problem?" The question hung heavy in the air, a challenge. His hips began to grind against yours, a slow, deliberate dance that ignited a fire within you. You were clothed, frustratingly so, yet the pressure between you, the undeniable evidence of your erection pressing against his, was a torment, a delicious agony.

He began to shed his suit, a slow, deliberate stripping that revealed the taut lines of his muscles beneath. The fabric, once a barrier, now fading away, revealing the man beneath, lean and powerful, a masterpiece sculpted by desire. It was as if the suit itself was an aphrodisiac, or perhaps it was simply the way he looked in it, every movement a sinuous dance of power and grace.

Your own arousal intensified, your pants straining against the insistent swell of your erection. The grinding continued, a primal rhythm that threatened to consume you both.

He shifted, lifting you onto his lap, your thighs encircling him. His hands found their way to your hips, a possessive grip that both thrilled and terrified you. His eyes devoured your body, taking in every curve, every line. You began to shed your own clothes, the moonlight catching the gleam of your skin, the way your cock rested against your stomach as pre-cum leaked from the tip, transforming you into a creature of the night.

A low groan escaped his lips as his eyes fell upon you, naked and beautiful in the pale moonlight. "You are exquisite," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "Absolutely intoxicating.”

His lips found your neck, tracing a path of fire across your skin. You arched into him, desperate for more, your body a symphony of need. He nipped at your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine. "You taste as good as you look," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

His hands moved with a practiced grace, exploring the contours of your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You gasped as his fingers found the sensitive skin beneath your ribs, eliciting a moan that echoed through the room. He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a jolt of excitement through you.

He pulled back, his eyes holding yours. "Ready to lose yourself in me?" he asked, his voice a husky whisper.

You could only nod, your body trembling with anticipation. He leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss that consumed all your senses. The world around you faded away, replaced by the intoxicating sensation of his touch, the taste of his skin, the rhythmic pounding of your hearts.

He moved slowly, deliberately, savoring each moment, each touch. His hands guided you, urging you deeper, higher, until you were lost in a whirlwind of sensation. You cried out his name, your voice a raw, animalistic sound, lost in the ecstasy of the moment.

He moved within you, a relentless rhythm that mirrored the pounding of your heart. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his back, your nails leaving tiny crescendos of pleasure. The world dissolved into a symphony of sensations – the heat of his skin against yours, the rhythmic pounding of your hearts, the sweet release that washed over you in a wave of pure bliss.

He collapsed on top of you, his breath mingling with yours as you both lay spent, a tangle of limbs and satisfied sighs. He held you close, his arms a comforting embrace, his heart still racing. "Never doubt that you are mine," he whispered against your hair, his voice a low, contented rumble. You smiled, your heart overflowing with a happiness you hadn't known existed.

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king4aday · 20 days ago

Text

A Postcard Story:

So for Dean's 46th this year, he decides to drag his husband around the states in Baby, ordering radio silence from his family to enjoy the open road, wherever the road takes them.

Here's a thread of postcards he sends Sam along the roadtrip:

Seattle was a nice place to start, people are kind and there's a lot of good food he's never tried. Dean was just glad that Cas could fly Baby with them to get there. Don't get him wrong, angel flight sucks too, for his stomach in particular, but it's nowhere near as bad as a plane.

When they drove into Cali, he was glad they managed to see the bridge in all it's glory. Real movie moment for him. They relaxed in Santa Cruz for a while, enjoying the views along the Pacific coast highway. He brought the Hawaiian shirts they bought when they all went to Gran Canaria a few summers ago as a family, getting nice tans before moving on.

Cas didn't let him rest for long when they got to L.A, asking Dean to hear him out before getting mad as he dragged him out. All frustration disappeared when they arrived at the studio though, Dean nerded out about the themed restaurants and rides while there was a mustard stain on his chin from chili dog he devoured. Cas was just happy to eat a burger and see Dean smile.

Tombstone flipped the tables for them. Now Cas loves his husband's passion, it's one of the most endearing qualities, he'd never let anyone dim the brightness he has talking about cowboys and westerns. But it can be a lot sometimes. He was committed to buying them both a full cowboy outfit before they left. Plus a hat for Jack, a buckle for Sam, new cowboy boots for Eileen and souvenirs he could hand out to the family.

Despite it being hot as balls, Dean loved being in Texas again. They ate some good authentic barbeque and went to a few museums Cas was interested in. Dean liked hearing him talk about the old buildings, the history and changes the landscape went through and Cas liked seeing Dean take selfies in front of the world's tallest cowboy boots, having to stop him promptly from climbing it and potentially breaking his back from a fall.

They took it slow in New Orleans, strolling down the french quarter like they were a couple courting in some Edwardian romance. It was warm but not oppressive, content to walk aimlessly, hand in hand, while the sounds of buskers playing strings echoed around the alleys. They danced under a street lamp, and kissed sweetly when the moon rose, all he could think about was how he felt safe in Cas' arms.

Dean loved it in Downtown, he felt right at home, locals welcoming him and Cas with open arms. They passed him free drinks when they saw their rings, pushed him on stage to sing some tipsy version of 'Should've been a cowboy'. Cas seemed to find it funny. He wouldn't say why.

He'd forgotten what a real Philly cheese steak was supposed to taste like but fuck him, he can't ever go back. One of the owners happily gave him the recipe, challenging him in recreating the sandwich he ordered. He's not got it perfect yet, but he's determined. At least Cas is a bottomless pit who can eat all the failed attempts he makes, zero waste fun!

New York was strange. He kept thinking about all the eccentrics and wide eyed kids who probably had dreams he'd never even considered before. At least when he looks at Cas now, he doesn't think he's done badly, hell maybe he's living a dream these New Yorkers wish they had too. He can't imagine what it's like to hedge all your scraped money and efforts on a chance of making it big as any kind of artist. He's pretty sure he already hit the jackpot with his life.

Teaching Cas to fish in Maine was a tumultuous task to put it nicely. Cas is already bitchy enough and Dean knows he can give as good as he gets, but they agreed never to go on a tiny boat alone together if one of them doesn't want to be drowned. Not to say they didn't have a good time though. They enjoyed the quiet of the calm waters and the breeze on their skin. Cas' first successful catch of the visit put them at ease, hell they were gonna drink a bottle of whiskey to celebrate, he got a pretty big one after all.

Cas was really making use of that sketchpad. He bought it for his husband a couple hundred miles back, noticing him sketching absent mindedly whenever there was a moment of reprieve. Dean hasn't seen everything inside, but he's seriously amazed at Cas' talent. Who knew right? It's a good way to store the memories, something more personal than the dorky couple selfies they took together in front of the falls. He'll look through them fondly later, remembering the time he took to enjoy his life, and enjoy Cas. Both things he's taken for granted before. He's learned his lesson now.

“It was awesome, seriously, and the water was so clear too, y'know? I asked Cas about Paradise falls on the way home” “The one in Venezuela?” Sam surmises, nursing his beer with a small smile. “Yeah! Well he said that he'd been a couple times centuries ago and it felt pretty magical then, and then I said ‘Did you know they're called Angel Falls too?’ and he gave me that look–” “I did not give you that look.” Cas frowns. “You totally did, Sam, you know the one.” “I did not give any looks, I just said that I was aware, and that was that.” Sam watches them both roll their eyes fondly at each other, hands definitely held together under the map table. “Whatever, my point is, we should totally go there together! I mean with the Angel flight express we could camp somewhere pretty close to the falls themselves.” “Like in 'Up' ? I'm in!” Jack says with a bright smile. Dean high fives him and Cas just sighs in exasperation. Eileen watches them all fondly, chin resting on her hand, likely feeling the same longing ache Sam does easing as she watches them all in the same space again. Sam missed this. He was really happy that Dean wanted to take time away for himself, for Cas too. They deserved to disappear from the world and live some of the life they both missed out on. But damn did he miss his family's regular bullshit, nothing makes him happier. “You know what, that sounds like a great idea.” Dean looks back at him with surprise, but it quickly shifts into that signature grin. “That's what I wanna hear! I knew I could count on you Sammy.” “How about we feed you before you go taking us to the other end of the world? Can't plan for reckless journeys on empty stomachs.” Ellen segways smartly. Dean claps his hands and points at her in agreement and they all start to get up to move. Sam sits and watches for a few seconds, just to be grateful for what he has. “Sammy, you good man?” Dean asks, looking back over his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah I'm good. Oh hey, Dean?” Dean raises his eyebrows in question. “Happy birthday.” Dean rolls his eyes, but smiles at him, and they walk together towards the kitchen.

💙💚

#I really hope this isn't an eyesore #I never know how to format posts on tumblr #Happy birthday Dean Winchester #spn #spn fanart #destiel #castiel #dean winchester #sam winchester #spn graphic

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biteytiefling · 6 months ago

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So I had an idea and it won’t leave me alone so I’m going to post about it if anyone wants to continue this prompt please do

so starting this off with the fact of ghost hunger exist, they feed off of emotions and ectoplasm. This is for regular ghosts though for halfas though they require emotions, ectoplasm, and living meat/ fresh blood because of this all halfas have the air of an apex predator and all halfas are the children of life and death and they all become morally gray because of it also halfas are capable of Shapeshifting

Finally having enough of the GIW Danny and a de aged Dan(10) and elly(5) decide to lay low in Gotham for a while, while plotting how to take down the GIW and run across someone that they instinctually know is their older brother they’re very sickly older brother who calls himself killer croc they decided to stay with him and teach him how to live as a halfa and he teaches them how to live in Gotham they all try to avoid the bats while wreaking havoc

Gotham City and the bats are in alarm as killer croc has found his shapeshifter siblings and they are all causing havoc as they help out rogues and disappearing talons ( taking them to the ghost zone ) and making sure to cause extra destruction in government buildings ( because petty) and even stealing things from museums and private collections ( ghost artifacts ) and the bats are in confusion as they try to catch them ( all the Shapeshifting forms that the bats have seen are dinos, gator person, and Merfolk, I think that Danny Dan and elly would stick to more scaly forms )

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princessfanonanona · 12 days 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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spectorgram · 6 months ago

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rooftop

dick grayson x f! reader content: nsfw implications but not actual nsfw word count: 1.0k

The brisk autumn breeze feels good against your skin as you climb up onto the rooftop of the Gotham Museum of Art, necklace in hand. You peer down at it, the ruby and sapphires winking back at you in the moonlight. It’s beautiful and you’re sure Selina will be able to raise its price even higher.

You stretch your arms up, enjoying the pull in your back, and you’re about to make your egress when your ears prick up. The sound of footsteps makes you smile; how considerate of him to announce his arrival. “Lovely night we’re having,” Nightwing says from behind you.

“Perfect for a nighttime stroll, no?” you reply.

“Looks like you’re here for a little more than that, Pantheress,” he says.

You finally turn to face him, shamelessly drinking him in. The black and blue suit clings to him like a second skin and you bite the corner of your lip, meeting his eyes with a cheeky grin. “You’re more than welcome to join me on my walk,” you tell him.

Nightwing smiles back at you. “Sure thing,” he says. “I’ll just need to take that, though.” He motions to the jewelry in hand.

“If that’s your condition, I guess we’ll have to take a rain check.”

“I still can’t let you leave.”

“Aww, you like me that much, birdy?”

He gives you an exasperated look. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

You hum, pretending to think as you stalk toward him. His eyes follow your moves and he doesn’t move, even as your chest brushes against him. You glance at him. What color are his eyes under that mask, you wonder. You imagine that they’re electric blue, just as pretty as the rest of him. “How about this?” You move your arm behind your back, tightening your grip on the necklace. “We do this my way.”

And in a flash, you take off. You leap from building to building, Nightwing not too far off. You slow just a little bit to glance back when the sound of footsteps disappear behind you. You smirk to yourself, but as you jump for another rooftop, a body intercepts you.

Nightwing twists his body to take the brunt of the force and you tumble on top of him. You hastily try to regain footing but he flips, pinning you beneath him. You realized belatedly that the necklace is no longer in your hand, your head lifting to look around. Then, you see his Nightwing’s hand. You make one, quick grab at it but he’s faster, jerking his arm away, prompting you to sigh, “Thought we were having fun, Wing.”

“There’s nothing fun about theft, Pantheress.”

“You and I both know that rich assholes won’t be hurting too much from the loss,” you hiss at him.

“Stealing isn’t right,” he says firmly, “no matter what.”

You roll your eyes. “But I don’t see you locking up any millionaires who are pushing people out of their neighborhoods and building luxury properties on top of them.”

“That’s because it’s within the confines of the law, and even if I don’t agree with it, it’s still legal.”

You scowl and swipe at him, the retractable claws in your gloves unsheathing. He dodges but the way he shifts his weight gives you just enough time to shove him off you and put some distance between the two of you.

“You never go down without a fight,” he says, pocketing the necklace — you’re not even sure how it’s possible in that skin-tight suit — and reaching for the two escrima sticks strapped to his back.

“I thought that’s what you like about me.”

He lunges for your first and you leap away, bobbing and weaving underneath the swing of his escrima sticks. You claws graze the fabric of his suit, tearing a hole in the sleeve. You aim a kick at his chest but he drops one of his batons, using his free hand to grab your ankle and spin you off balance. Before you fall, you manage to grab him, pulling him down with you. You land on your chest, a strangled grunt leaving your lips as Nightwing lands on top of you. “We need to stop meeting like this,” you pant.

He snorts in amusement on top of you, sitting up. You scoff when you hear the clink of handcuffs. “Is that really necessary?”

“You know theft is a crime. I have to take you in.” As he tries to fasten one cuff around your left wrist, you start squirming, hoping your movements would throw him off guard. Instead, he holds a firm's hand on the center of your back. “Stop moving,” he hisses. It takes you a beat to realize there’s something hardening against your back.

You snicker, “Guess you really are happy to see me, birdy.”

For once, there’s no clever quip to come out of his mouth. You squirm more, delighting in the way he struggles to deal with you and stopping any sound from escaping. Then, Nightwing’s weight is thrown off you suddenly and the sounds of a small scuffle reach your ears. You take the chance to see Selina standing behind you. She tilts her head at you, smirking. “I’ve never had to bail you out like this, kitten.”

“My hero.” You peer over his shoulder. “Is the Bat following you?”

“Should be here shortly,” she says. “So we should take our leave.”

Before Nightwing has a chance to stop you again, Selina ushers you to the edge of the building and you two leap, disappearing into the night.

Dick curses as he watches you fade into the darkness below. Bruce lands beside him, and Dick resheaths his escrima sticks. “They got away,” Bruce says, though he doesn’t sound too unhappy.

“Yeah,” Dick replies. Next time, he’ll catch you. The thought excites him, makes him antsy for the next encounter. “At least we got the necklace back.” When he reaches into his pocket, he finds empty space. “Shit.”

a/n: i don’t think this is my finest work and it’s a bit rushed but i really wanted to write for one of my favorite and most beloved characters so i hope you enjoyed

#✶ nove writes #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #dc comics x reader #dc x reader #nightwing imagine #nightwing scenario

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