#that man's menacing aura was OFF THE CHARTS

[in-tua-deep]

had a dream last night where i was actually the main character (sort of), but as a three year old

we were out for dinner and there were masses of people around and outside. my mum went out to do something - I don't know what, but I remember seeing her running through the crowd

suddenly lots of people were running. except this man with a suit and some weird wire-like tools in his hands. i opened the door of the restaurant to try and leave to find my mum, and my auntie katherine tried to stop me. the man in the suit calmly walked up the stairs to come into the restaurant with the most menacing aura known to man

i think i was supposed to die there. maybe i know i was supposed to die there? but I ran instead, and sprinted off into the crowd, kind of immediately being obscured by the legs. i didn't see any of my family again for the rest of the dream

i didn't find my mum. instead i eventually ended up alone. i was walking through this big empty building, until finally i found an office with a light on. when i looked through, there was this... vaguely unkempt detective looking dude cursing and stitching up the man in the suit, who was not looking so great

another grown-up walked in and seemed alarmed to find me there, but kind of immediately was like "shit i guess we're responsible for a child now?"

i don't know how i knew, but i knew everyone was dead. everyone who was there, all those crowds, all those people - gone. i knew that the man in the suit was responsible, but in a way where maybe there was a bigger picture or he was mind controlled or something? unclear.

i remember creeping into the back room and patting the leg of the man in the suit and saying "I hope you get better soon." but part of me wanted him to look at my child self and feel guilt, so it wasn't completely altruistic

the man in the suit was very quiet. he had long black hair and no facial expressions. he didn't seem to like me very much. i think he would speak to the unkempt detective but he didn't speak to me.

turns out that he could shapeshift into a cat. a black cat with golden eyes. i actually didn't know this at first, and was thrilled by the appearance of a cat

i decided i had to give a name (speaking over the nice grown up) and immediately dubbed him "banana winks"

anyway i think i was just sort of an extra in a wider plot about the vague enemies-to-lovers thing between the unkempt detective (definitely trying to catch the man in the suit) and the man in the suit (who was DEFINITELY an assassin of some kind) as they teamed up with nice grown up (who maybe was the computer guy - he was definitely the one who found my file and determined my age to be 'three years and three months') to figure out who mind controlled the man in the suit and why

while also now being responsible for a three-year-old

i hope the man in the suit got his answers

[seanpultz]

If the Ghostbusters visited The Haunted Mansion

As the four of them stood before the looming Dutch Gothic Revival mansion, the cool evening air whispered through the ancient trees that surrounded the property. The moon cast eerie shadows across the intricate carvings of the building's façade, giving it a sinister countenance that matched the tales of the paranormal activities rumored to dwell within. Dr. Egon Spengler, with his usual air of skepticism, spoke first. "Ray, are you sure we're in the right place?" he asked, glancing at the GPS device in his hand. Dr. Raymond "Ray" Stantz, ever the enthusiast, nodded confidently. "Positive, Egon. The PKE readings are off the charts here." Dr. Peter Venkman, the charismatic leader of the group, leaned against his proton pack with a smirk. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go see if we can't catch a ghost!" Dr. Winston Zeddemore, the stoic and pragmatic fourth member, took a deep breath. "Alright, let's get to work," he said, adjusting his gear. The Ghostbusters approached the mansion, the sound of their footsteps echoing through the quiet night, ready to face whatever spectral beings awaited them inside.

The quartet of Ghostbusters ascended the grand stone steps leading to the mansion's imposing entrance, their boots clicking against the cold cobblestone path. The heavy oak door creaked open, revealing a pair of somber maids and butlers dressed in attire that seemed to have been plucked straight from the 19th century. They silently beckoned the Ghostbusters inside with a ghostly wave of their hands. As they stepped into the foyer, the flickering candlelight danced across the walls, illuminating the rich tapestries and dark wood that filled the space. Their eyes were drawn to the large portrait hanging above the roaring fireplace – it depicted a stern gentleman with piercing eyes and a well-groomed mustache. Yet, as they approached, the painting began to warp and shift, the man's features morphing into a grisly visage of decay.

"When hinges creak in doorless chambers, and strange and frightening sounds echo through the halls. Whenever candlelights flicker where the air is deathly still — that is the time when ghosts are present, practicing their terror with ghoulish delight!"

The Ghostbusters exchanged wary glances as they were guided into the octagonal portrait gallery, the atmosphere thickening with anticipation. The wall behind them slid shut with a thud, sealing them in the dimly lit space. The flickering light from the candelabras lining the walls cast a macabre glow on the faces of the stern figures in the paintings, making their expressions seem to shift and twist as if alive. Suddenly, a chilling voice resonated through the chamber, sending a shiver down their spines. "Welcome, foolish mortals," it intoned, "to the Haunted Mansion. I am your host, your ghost host. Our tour begins here in this gallery." The portrait of the stern gentleman from the foyer now spoke to them, his eyes following their every move. "Here, where you see paintings of some of our guests as they appeared in their corruptible, mortal state," the Ghost Host continued, his tone a mix of amusement and menace. "Kindly step all the way in, please, and make room for everyone. There’s no turning back now." The floor beneath them trembled, and the portraits' eyes grew wider, the figures appearing more animate with each passing moment. The Ghostbusters steeled themselves, proton packs at the ready, as the air grew colder and the whispers of the long-departed grew louder.

“Your cadaverous pallor betrays an aura of foreboding, almost as though you sense a disquieting metamorphosis. Is this haunted room actually stretching? Or is it your imagination, hmm…?”

The Ghostbusters' eyes darted up to the four elongating portraits, their expressions a mix of horror and disbelief. "Well, this is definitely not your run-of-the-mill spectral activity," Venkman quipped, trying to keep his cool. The bearded man in the portrait looked as though he had been caught in a tragicomedy, his grin frozen in a moment of absurd terror. The young woman's serene composure on the tightrope was unnerving, her eyes locked onto theirs as if she knew they were watching. Constance Hatchaway's portrait was a gruesome sight, her eyes following them around the room as though judging their every move. The man on the mustached gentleman in the quicksand portrait's face was a twisted mask of desperation. The air grew colder, the whispers grew louder, and the floorboards beneath them began to groan as if the house itself were alive.

“…And consider this dismaying observation: this chamber has no windows, and no doors… which offers you this chilling challenge: to find a way out! Of course, there's always my way…”

With a dramatic flourish, the lights in the portrait gallery abruptly winked out, plunging the Ghostbusters into a blackness so absolute that it seemed to press down on them. A cacophony of thunder rumbled through the mansion, the sound of the storm outside now trapped within the very walls that threatened to close in. The sudden flash of lightning illuminated the grinning skull of the Ghost Host hanging from a noose in the cupola high above, his lifeless eyes seemingly peering into their very souls. The sound of bones shattering echoed through the darkness, sending a collective shiver through the group. "Egon, what's the plan?" Winston's voice was steady despite the horror unfolding around them. "We need to find the source of this disturbance and contain it," Egon responded, his voice a beacon of calm amidst the chaos. The four Ghostbusters huddled together, their proton packs humming in the darkness, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

"Oh, I didn’t mean to frighten you prematurely. The real chills come later. Now, as they say, 'look alive," and we’ll continue our little tour. And let’s all stay together, please."

As the thunder subsided, a previously unnoticed section of the portrait gallery wall glided open, revealing a hidden corridor shrouded in darkness. The Ghost Host's cackle echoed through the passageway, beckoning them deeper into the mansion's bowels. The Ghostbusters, their proton packs glowing like neon beacons in the gloom, cautiously moved forward. The walls of the corridor were adorned with more portraits, each one seemingly more disturbing than the last. As they ventured further, the floorboards creaked in protest, the air grew colder, and the whispers grew more insistent. They could feel the malevolent presence of the spirits trapped within the paintings, their eyes burning into the backs of their heads. "Remember," Egon reminded them, his voice a low murmur, "we're not here to fight them all. We need to find the epicenter of the haunting." The corridor grew narrower, the walls closing in, and the portraits' eyes seemed to follow their every step. Then, without warning, the floor gave way, sending the Ghostbusters tumbling into the abyss below.

The Ghost Host's laughter faded as the Ghostbusters picked themselves up from the dusty floor, now standing in a dimly lit loading area. The air was thick with anticipation and a hint of mechanized scent.

"And now, a carriage approaches to carry you into the boundless realm of the supernatural. Once on board, remain safely seated with your hands, arms, feet, and legs inside. "

The Ghost Host's lowered the safety bars of the Doom Buggies lowered with a metallic clank. He recited his scripted warnings with a sinister smile, the candelabrum above casting a flickering light that played upon his shadowy features. The Ghostbusters, now seated in the spooky vehicles, couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease as the carts began to move, gliding effortlessly through the mansion's secrets. The portrait corridor stretched ahead, a silent witness to the horrors they had yet to uncover. Each flash of lightning outside transformed the mundane into the macabre, revealing the true, twisted nature of the artworks. The demure young woman's hair morphed into a writhing nest of serpents, the majestic ship was torn apart by the tempestuous sea, the man's opulent attire shredded to expose his skeletal fate, and the lady of the house transformed into a snarling were-tiger. The air grew heavier with each grim revelation, the very fabric of reality seeming to warp around them. Yet, they remained steadfast, their eyes fixed on the grim tableau before them, ready to face whatever the Haunted Mansion had in store.

"Oh yes, and no flash pictures, please. We spirits are frightfully sensitive to bright lights."

The Ghostbusters' Doom Buggies rolled under an archway adorned with cobwebs and dusty chandeliers, entering a library that seemed to have been frozen in time. The eerie silence was broken only by the rustle of pages and the occasional clatter of a book falling from its shelf. The room was a labyrinth of towering bookcases, their shelves groaning under the weight of tomes that hadn't seen the light of day in centuries. The busts of long-dead scholars stared down at them with vacant eyes, seemingly aware of the intrusion. The sight of a ghostly librarian, floating on a ladder that moved of its own accord, sent a chill down their spines. Meanwhile, a rocking chair in the corner swayed to the rhythm of an unseen occupant, the flickering candlelight casting eerie shadows across the pages of an ancient tome. The scent of aged paper and dust filled their nostrils as they moved through the spectral scene, the whispers of the trapped spirits echoing through the vast space. They knew they were getting closer to the heart of the haunting, and their anticipation grew with each passing moment.

"Our library is well-stocked with priceless first editions — only ghost stories, of course — and marble busts of the greatest ghost writers the literary world has ever known."

The Doom Buggies rolled into the next chamber, revealing a once-elegant music room. A ghostly figure in a tattered tuxedo sat at a dusty grand piano, its ivory keys yellowed with age. The shadowy musician's spectral fingers danced over the keys, playing a mournful melody that resonated through the room. Behind the piano, a window looked out onto a tempestuous forest, lightning illuminating the twisted branches that clawed at the glass. The stormy scene was so lifelike that it was hard to discern if it was a painting or a window to another realm.

"They have all retired here, to the Haunted Mansion. Actually, we have 999 happy haunts here. But there’s room for 1,000. Any volunteers?"

The Doom Buggies ascended into a realm where gravity seemed to have abandoned all sense, entering a room that mirrored the mind-bending art of M.C. Escher. The staircases twisted and turned in impossible angles, leading to nowhere and everywhere at once. The Ghostbusters clung to the bars of their carts as the world around them tilted and spun. The cacophony of echoing footsteps grew louder, the glow of green light grew stronger, and suddenly, the stomping ceased.

"If you should decide to join us, final arrangements may be made at the end of the tour."

They found themselves in a hallway lined with thousands of blinking eyes, the pupils dilating and contracting in a hypnotic rhythm. The wallpaper around the eyes began to shift, revealing the grimacing faces of demons, leering and laughing at their disorientation. The room grew colder, the laughter grew more malevolent, and the Ghostbusters knew they had entered the domain of the Haunted Mansion's most powerful and disturbed spirits.

"We find it delightfully unlivable here in this ghostly retreat. Every room has wall-to-wall creeps, and hot and cold running chills. Shhh, listen!"

The Ghostbusters rounded a corner and came face to face with a living suit of armor, its visor gleaming in the candlelight. The chair in the corner of the room had a hidden abstract face, embroidered into the fabric with such craftsmanship that it seemed to leer at them. The most unsettling sight, however, was the long, narrow corridor that stretched down the center of the parlor. A candelabrum floated eerily down the hallway, casting grotesque shadows on the walls that danced and stretched like the elongated figures in the portrait gallery. "Wow, talk about a blast from the past," Ray whispered in amazement, his eyes wide with wonder. "These are some serious poltergeist pranks."

The Ghostbusters' Doom Buggies made an unexpected twist, spinning them around to face the conservatory. The room was a ghastly sight, adorned with lifeless bouquets and a pervasive aura of decay. At the center of this floral tomb, a glass room stood out, showcasing a morbid tableau. The sight of the coffin with its lid pried open by skeletal hands sent a shiver down their spines. The desperate cries of the trapped soul within filled the air, a haunting plea for freedom. "Egon, what do we do?" Winston's voice was tight with tension. "We need to keep moving," Egon replied, his eyes never leaving the coffin. "The source of the haunting is stronger now. We're getting closer." The raven, seemingly unfazed by the chaos, cawed mournfully, adding to the symphony of the supernatural. The Ghostbusters' proton packs grew heavier with each step, the weight of their mission pressing upon them as they moved through the room, surrounded by the lifeless beauty of the conservatory. The cries grew louder, more insistent, and the green glow from the coffin grew brighter, pulsing with a sinister energy that seemed to call out to them. They knew they had to act fast before the situation spun even further out of control.

The Ghostbusters' Doom Buggies emerged from the conservatory and into the shadowy corridor, the portraits of the once-noble family now grotesque and decayed. The eerie sound of unseen doors rattling and the disembodied knocking of ghostly fists sent a chill through their bones. The air grew thick with the scent of decay and the cacophony of whispers grew to a crescendo, as if the very walls were alive with the tormented spirits of the mansion's past. To their left, the portrait of the Ghost Host grinned morbidly, his noose tightening around his neck in a silent taunt. The door beside it appeared to breathe in and out, the wood swelling and shrinking as if alive. The two demonic reliefs on the walls seemed to leer at them, one with a malicious smile, the other snarling with malevolent intent. The corridor grew more claustrophobic with each step, the weight of the unseen eyes upon them unbearable. They approached the end of the hall, where the skeletal hands of the trapped spirit fought against the sealed door, the emerald glow of spectral energy pulsing from within. The grandfather clock chimed out the thirteenth hour, its pendulum swinging erratically, the shadow of a monstrous claw racing across its face. The Ghostbusters knew that beyond this door lay the heart of the haunting, and the fate of the 999 souls trapped within the Haunted Mansion. They tightened their grips on their proton packs, bracing themselves for the battle that awaited them.

The Ghostbusters' Doom Buggies shuddered to a halt in the séance room, the air thick with anticipation and the faint scent of incense. The walls were adorned with floating musical instruments, their strings plucking and bows moving as if played by invisible hands. At the center of the room, a round table was set with an eerie spread of arcane tools and a crystal ball, within which the disembodied head of Madame Leota bobbed menacingly. Her ghostly visage sang out the incantation, summoning the mansion's spirits to join in her macabre symphony. The instruments grew more frenzied, their tune a cacophony of discordant notes that seemed to resonate with the very essence of the room. The Ghostbusters could feel the power building around them, the air crackling with the energy of the spirits they had been sent to contain. They watched as a set of spectral hands began to materialize from the crystal, reaching out to touch the instruments, their icy fingers leaving trails of mist as they danced across the strings.

"Serpents and spiders, tail of a rat/Call in the spirits, wherever they're at./Rap on a table, it's time to respond/Send us a message from somewhere beyond./Goblins and ghoulies from last Halloween/Awaken the spirits with your tambourine./Creepies and crawlies, toads in a pond/Let there be music from regions beyond./Wizards and witches wherever you dwell/Give us a hint by ringing a bell."

Then the Ghost Host spoke again, "The happy haunts have received your sympathetic vibrations and are beginning to materialize. They’re assembling for a swinging wake, and they’ll be expecting me… I’ll see you all a little later."

The Ghostbusters leaned over the balcony railing, taking in the surreal scene unfolding in the grand ballroom below. The spectral soiree was a whirlwind of activity, with ghosts of all shapes and sizes moving in a ghostly masquerade to the haunting tune of "Grim Grinning Ghosts." The air was electric with the energy of the otherworldly festivities, the very essence of the mansion's haunting distilled into this one, maddening waltz. They watched as the merry ghost on the mantle gave the bust a playful wink, the elderly spirit knitting away, and the macabre duelists reenacting their eternal battle across the room. The waltzing couples floated through the air with an ethereal grace, their dance partners a testament to the mansion's grim history. The coffin from the hearse lay open, its occupant now lost in the swirling mass of spirits.

"Wow, this place is something else," Venkman murmured, his eyes darting from one spectral sight to the next.

"It's like we've stumbled into a Salvador Dali painting," Ray said, his voice filled with a mix of awe and unease.

"The energy readings are off the charts," Egon noted, his PKE meter beeping wildly in his hand. "We need to find the focal point of this haunting before it gets out of hand."

"Looks like we've got our work cut out for us," Winston said, his gaze lingering on the grinning duelists.

As the Ghostbusters observed the chaotic dance below, Egon's eyes fell upon a previously unnoticed entrance to the attic. "Guys, I think we've found the source," he said, pointing upwards. The door at the top of the stairs was slightly ajar, and a sickly green light seeped through the crack. The air grew colder, the whispers grew more frantic, and the shadows cast by the flickering chandeliers grew darker and more malevolent. "We need to go up there," he continued, his voice firm with determination. The others nodded in agreement, their eyes reflecting the gravity of the situation.

The Ghostbusters' Doom Buggies glided into the attic, the cobweb-covered space a stark contrast to the grandeur of the ballroom. The room was a cluttered mess of forgotten relics and haunting mementoes, each object seemingly imbued with a story of love gone wrong. The wedding portraits lining the walls drew their attention immediately, the bride's serene smile a stark contrast to the horrors they had encountered so far. Yet, as they watched in morbid fascination, the grooms' heads began to vanish in a gruesome dance of shadow and sound, replaced by the grim thud of a hatchet. The air grew colder, the whispers more insistent, and the malevolence grew palpable. Then, in a corner shrouded in darkness, the bride herself materialized, floating in a tattered wedding dress. Her eyes, once filled with love, now gleamed with madness as she recited her twisted vows, the spectral weapon in her hand raising high. "We'll live happily ever after," she shrieked, the hatchet poised to strike. The Ghostbusters knew that the time for sightseeing had ended; it was time to bring peace to the tortured souls of the Haunted Mansion.

Egon and Ray huddled together, their eyes fixated on the vengeful bride. "Egon, who do you think she was?" Ray whispered, his voice tinged with fear and curiosity. Egon, his PKE meter still beeping erratically, took a moment to consider the question. "Based on the intensity of the negative energy here, she must have been someone significant to the mansion's history," he replied, his gaze never leaving the ghostly figure. "Possibly the original owner's daughter, scorned on her wedding day. The power she wields suggests a deep anger and betrayal that's been festering for centuries." The air grew colder as the bride's spectral form grew more substantial, the hatred in her eyes burning into their very souls. The other Ghostbusters tightened their grips on their proton packs, ready to stand by their comrades as they faced the most dangerous part of their mission. The whispers grew to a crescendo, the room pulsing with the energy of the trapped spirits eager to be set free. The battle for the Haunted Mansion had just begun, and the fate of the 999 souls hung in the balance.

Constance Hatchaway, the bride whose tale was one of greed and madness, grew more substantial with each passing moment. Her eyes gleamed with a malicious intent as she recounted her macabre history, her voice echoing through the dusty attic. "Welcome to my bridal suite," she cackled, gesturing to the cluttered space around her. The Ghostbusters, now fully aware of the gravity of the situation, took a step closer to each other, their proton packs humming with readiness. "You know," Venkman quipped, trying to break the tension, "it's not every day you get invited to a wedding where the bride has a better head-count than the guests." The room grew colder, and the whispers grew to a fever pitch as Constance's eyes narrowed. "You think this is a jest?" she snarled, the hatchet in her hand seemingly growing larger. "This is my sanctuary, my trophy room!" With a ghostly flourish, she raised the axe, ready to add more heads to her grisly collection. The Ghostbusters knew they had to act fast, before the spirit's rage consumed them all.

"Let's not make this a permanent engagement," Venkman quipped, as the Ghostbusters flipped open their proton packs. The room erupted in a symphony of whirring and beeping as the four men steadied their weapons, aiming at the furious bride. "Now, let's show her what we're made of," Winston murmured, his voice a low rumble of determination.

"Fire at will!" Egon called out, and the room was bathed in a cacophony of spectral light as the proton streams shot forth, weaving a dance of containment around Constance Hatchaway.

With Constance Hatchaway safely contained, the Ghostbusters let out a collective sigh of relief, their proton streams dissipating into the cold attic air. The room grew quieter as the whispers of the trapped spirits faded away, the only sound now the distant wail of the wind outside. They made their way to the Doom Buggies, which had come to a halt at the attic's exit, the ground floor calling them back to the land of the living. The caretaker, his face a mask of fear, watched them with wide eyes as they approached, his trembling dog at his side. The sight of the ghostly band, the whimsical ghosts playing their jovial tune, and the macabre tea party scene outside the window did little to ease his terror. The Ghostbusters nodded in his direction, acknowledging his plight, but their mission was not yet complete. They descended the hill, the Doom Buggies carrying them through the graveyard, the air growing colder with each passing moment. The spectral minstrels' music grew louder as they approached, the haunting melody of "Grim Grinning Ghosts" filling the air once more. The Ghostbusters' eyes scanned the scene before them, taking in the whimsical horror of the phantoms enjoying their unearthly revelry. The hearse stuck in the mud, the undead partygoers, and the bizarre quartet of singers all added to the otherworldly tapestry that was the Haunted Mansion. They knew that while these spirits were eerie, they were not the malicious force they sought.

The Ghost Host is heard once again. "Ah, there you are! And just in time… there’s a little matter I forgot to mention — beware of hitchhiking ghosts!"

The Ghostbusters' Doom Buggies rumbled through the shadowy graveyard, the cobblestone path leading them to the three large mirrors that stood sentinel beside the mansion's façade. As they approached, the reflection in the first mirror revealed an unexpected addition to their party—a dapper specter with a top hat and monocle, grinning mischievously. "Phineas," Egon murmured, recognizing the ghostly figure known as The Traveler. In the second mirror, a skeletal figure clung to the back of their cart, his rattling bones a silent greeting. "Ezra," Ray whispered, his eyes widening with excitement. And in the third, a ghostly convict with a burlap sack over his head, Gus, was now a part of their convoy.

"They have selected you to fill our quota, and they’ll haunt you until you return!"

The Ghost Host raises the safety bar. "Now I will raise the safety bar, and a ghost will follow you home!"

The Ghostbusters' hearts raced as they felt the icy grip of the hitchhiking ghosts latch onto their Doom Buggies. The Traveler in the top hat gave a courteous tip of his hat, his grin growing wider in the mirror. The skeletal Ezra waved a bony hand, and the convict, Gus, let out a muffled chuckle from within his sack. "Well, this wasn't exactly in the job description," Venkman quipped, trying to maintain his composure. The Ghostbusters' carts lurched forward, the spirits' laughter echoing through the night as they approached the mansion's entrance. They knew that their job wasn't done yet.

[gothic-chicanery]

Lalo scares me so damn bad like this man’s aura of menace is off the charts

[we-dragons]

I'm from a different dimension actually Chapter 3 Damian x reader

Pulled away to another world, Y/N uses magic science and a Little bird to help her get back home and possibly be rid of an apocalyptic event. "So, will you succumb to your doubts completely or step into the sun of this new world?"

The man in the cowl who was called Batman sat and listened as I explained my situation, and my window how the metal head and his team of night bandits crashed through the said window also putting in that I had taken care of his son giving him some pain killers and cleaning his wounds. I silently thanked God that I soundproofed my whole apartment so I couldn't hear them and they couldn't hear me. I went through the gruesome details of his wound as I patched him up leaving out the green substance that I had to drain him of. My explanation was short and quick leaving the man to glance up at the three before him and Robin who was now, despite my protests, sitting in an upright position, then back at me.

The man had a dark and menacing aura I could tell he was trying to intimidate me, and he could tell it wasn't working. He moves back to the Robin who he throws over his shoulder, I heard a small oof come out of his mouth telling me this wasn't the first type of injury like that. The rest of the men follow behind him, I didn't make a sound as they left watching as they all jumped out one by one till none were residing within my apartment. I feel a wave of sleepiness wash over me as I turn down the hallway to my room. but upon entering it I feel my stomach drop to the floor. The closet was open, and upon further examination, I see that so is the box, my box, my scales.

I sigh knowing that I probably won't be seeing them again I close that I don't technically need them anymore but it was nice to have some security just in case.

"I might as well make more." I say going to bed Nightmare not far behind. "it should be fine as long as they don't find out right?" I pull the covers over my head and dread the thought, and I fall asleep not moments later.

The next few days go off without anything odd happening besides the next morning when I found my window fixed with a small note attached to it. I was a small piece of green paper that was tapped to the outside ' I fixed your window -Robin' I smiled opening the window and taking the note I read it again then I put it on my fridge. I still look at it now and then I feel happy I was able to help someone it also stands as a reminder that he stole my scales and that I need to get them back. I'm still reminiscing the thought at my desk during the 3rd hour instead of paying attention to Molly's one-sided conversation which I already know is about homework.

"(y/n) are you listening?"

"Yes Molly, I have been paying but you can't complain about homework every week you just gotta do it."

"Gahh I don't want to!"

I sighed as she continued to rant about doing it, the bell rung and I forced her into her seat on my left. Since it was the middle of the semester the science class schedule states that we would be doing a project on forgotten scientific instruments. I hear the class already calling partners in the background.

"Alright settle down, I know you're eager to pick partners for our next group assignment but sadly I have to remind you about the last time I let you choose," The class groaned. "Quiet! So you will be put in pairs assigned to you on this chart." she pulls out a large magnetic chart with two names on magnets that were written in dry-erase marker on the right side. on the left side was a list of objects I suppose were the subject of our project. The only problem was I couldn't see the names written on the magnets. "You will choose your project When I call the first name on the magnet, then I want you to immediately connect and set up a meeting place to study. Let's start a the top, (y/n) pick a subject." I looked at the board when my eyes gazed on upon something familiar my eyes lit up.

"I would like to study the Astrolabe please." She nodded and moved my name on the subject.

"Very well chosen! You and Damian should enjoy this project." I Freeze.

"Damian Ma'am?" I ask.

"Yes Damian Wayne, I know you work well with Molly and that's why I normally pair her with you but I feel this would be a better experience for you to expand." She then turns back to the board. " plus there are only two people in this room who can keep up you" I hear her say under her breath and continues to call out the next name. I look at Molly who gives me a Knowing look besides for her I hadn't really memorized any names to faces due to my wanting to keep out of Awkward conversation. She gestures to the person on the right of me. I peer over and see a very unimpressed black-haired, green-eyed boy staring at me.

"Um, so I guess we're partners." I give him a small smile "I don't think we have properly met my name is (y/n) (l/n) it's a pleasure to be working with you." He gives me a nod. "So the Library?"

"We'll see if that works out first, if not I'll need you to come with me." He said pulling out a notebook.

"Go with you where?"He glances at me.

"To my place, Wayne Manor, that is if I'm still grounded."

"How did you get grounded?" His face twisted turning from uninterest into a sly smirk that gave me warning signs in my head.

"I smashed a window."

[burnedbyshoto]

Todoroki-sensei

pairing: todoroki natsuo x fem!reader

warning: fluff

word count: 3,715

a/n: me writing for a todoroki that’s not shouto??? weird I know BAHAHAHA, please enjoyyyy. AND TODOROKI-SENSEI IS HOW THEY ADDRESS DOCTORS (apparently at least from what I found) IN JAPAN ITS NOT A WEIRD KINK THING!!!!!!!

Summary: Todoroki Natsuo is an esteemed trauma surgeon, and you’re the volunteer that won’t leave his mind.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

“Patient Kuzo was removed from the ICU today.”

“Patient Fukuda suffered another seizure two hours ago. She’s in stable condition now but we are waiting on your confirmation to see if she’s okay for another surgery.”

“Todoroki-sensei, I was wondering if you knew where Nurse Ha went?”

Todoroki Natsuo blinked as he tossed his dirty surgery scrubs into the biohazard bin. It was currently four in the afternoon and the trauma surgeon had just completed a grueling eight-hour surgery on a villain attack victim. His grey eyes focused on the three people who seemed to be waiting for him. A kind smile overcame his features.

Heroes smiled to ease tension after all.

“Alright, I’ll make sure to visit Patient Fukuda at the end of my shift, has their family visited yet?”

“No, doctor, not that I’m aware of.”

“For Patient Kuzo, have an MRI done, we may need the assistance of the neurosurgeons because of the seizure. We may have missed some bleeding in the brain.”

“Okay, should I order it?”

Natsuo nodded at the resident who nodded in return before running off. Finally, the white-haired man turned toward the final resident.

“Doctor Kang, does it look like I would know where Nurse Ha is?” Natsuo asked as he turned to wash his hands.

“I thought she was in surgery with you,” the resident spoke and Natsuo nodded.

“She was, I believe she’s getting cleaned up as well. A blood clot burst on us and Nurse Ha was among the most soaked,” Natsuo explains.

The blood that stained his scrubs and the small portion of his skin that remained visible during surgery finally making sense.

“The patient?!” The resident panicked as Natsuo carefully wiped away the dried blood from his skin. “Is the patient okay?”

“Well, the patient suffered massive internal damage and we will be watching them overnight, but they are expected to have a full recovery,” Natsuo smiled as the resident clutched their chest.

“Oh, thank goodness,” the resident exhaled a heavy breath. “It’s all thanks to you, I’m sure.”

Natsuo’s face twitched at the praise. To this day it always made him uncomfortable, a sense of imposter syndrome if anything. “I did what every other surgeon would have done.”

The resident shakes their head as Natsuo begins walking back toward the locker rooms. He wasn’t due for anymore surgeries today, and with his shift ending in ten minutes, he had to make rounds for his ICU patients and those on the floor.

“Well, you Todoroki’s sure are superhuman! Your dad was the number one hero, your baby brother is already well within the legendary heroes, and you?! You’re the best trauma surgeon on the planet, you’re still extremely young, and you don’t even have a healing quirk!” The resident exclaims as they follow after Natsuo’s large strides.

Those words haunt Natsuo still.

The last name Todoroki was common, Natsuo had treated many other Todoroki’s before, and not a single one had been his family. Yet everyone knew his Todoroki was the Todoroki people knew.

The Todoroki that defined Pro Heroes Endeavor and Shouto.

Natsuo hated his last name.

He loved his family, but fuck, he craved to not be associated with them. Natsuo loved his baby brother, Natsuo could respect his father's career as the number one hero, but Natsuo hated the whispers that surrounded him because of his family.

The whispers that spoke kindly of his father, the whispers that lusted over his baby brother, the whispers that reminded him that he was never good enough to be a Pro Hero himself. He hated hearing about how his mother was a psychotic patient, that she deserved jail for ruining Shouto's face. He hated that he never heard anything about Fuyumi who always went the extra mile for this nightmare family. He hated that the only reason why he was known was because he made a name for himself, and yet his accomplishments were tied to his father’s doing, not his own. Then those whispers about Touya — the whispers about Dabi — of how he was a traitor, a menace, and a mistake.

Whispers are what they were, but they were loud and insistent. They consumed Natsuo’s attention and demanded that he responded.

There were times that Natsuo wanted to yell at them all. To reveal a truth that would mean nothing to them.

“I just try my best,” Natsuo settled with. “Now, I do believe you have your own rounds to complete. I have thirty patients to look at and I have fifteen minutes before they kick me out, so I have to go.”

The resident stared as Natsuo placed on new scrubs that were navy blue in color, and his coat was slipped on.

“Of course, Todoroki-sensei! I’ll be going now!”

Natsuo waved goodbye as he grabbed his pager, his neck tilting as his tense muscles cracked.

It was time to get on his rounds.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

“Ah, volunteer y/l/n, we were wondering if you were going to be showing up today!” The nurse at the reception desk greeted you as you tried making your frazzled aura look... less so.

“My students took forever getting ready to leave! I wouldn’t have missed this day anyways! I heard that Patient Kuzo is finally out on the floor?” You say as you take the visitor badge that had more or less become yours.

“He is and he hasn’t had any visitors yet, so I think your beautiful soul would really cheer him up!” The nurse laughed as she gave you an update of all the patients who were in need of a visitor, a visitor that wasn’t a part of their medical team.

There were only five names on the list, which was relatively large for what you specialized in for your volunteer work. You smile in thanks as you scan the list, bowing in gratitude as you take off.

Five patients. Two and a half hours.

You weren’t going to be leaving until six-thirty p.m. it seems.

~~

“Patient Kuzo,” you laugh as the man attempted to read your kindergarten student's writings. “It’s rude to make fun of their writing! They’re learning still! Plus, there is a bit of confusion since they are also studying English.”

“But they clearly said something very inappropriate here, I don’t know how you teachers don’t laugh in front of them!” Kuzo, a car accident victim, was an elder in his sixties. His body was covered in bandages, his head was also shaved bald. Most likely meaning that he had brain surgery too.

“If you laugh, they will continue doing the same mistakes because they think it’s fine!” You insist as you take your students writing back.

You found out early on that elders enjoyed reading your student's works. The chaotic and young energy your students possessed were palatable through their writings alone. Adults were a bit trickier in getting them to speak to you, but they always caved. Teens and children, those broke your hearts to see without any visitors, but they occurred rarely. Then you would make sure to do all in your power to make them happy.

“Bah, you’re teaching those kids better manners than their parents sometimes,” Kuzo sighs as he rests against his pillows. “I think you deserve to laugh when it’s funny like that!”

You laugh again as your mouth opens to speak, but the door opens and a voice pierced through the room.

“So, you’re finally doing well enough to be released from the ICU, Patient Kuzo,” a voice sighs as papers rustle.

You look behind you and immediately smile at who you see.

Tall, broad, and tired stands the one doctor you always seemed to be running into on the hospital floor. Natsuo stands by the door ruffling through Kuzo’s charts, his eyes intensely focused on it.

His white hair is falling out of place and you immediately assume he had a long surgery today, especially seeing the news of the villain attack earlier.

“I’m glad to see that you’re doing well—” Natsuo looked up finally, his grey eyes locking on you. The smile on your face broadened as he froze, his eyes widening as he stiffened as the charts came to press tightly against his chest. “Y/l/n-san!”

You stood from the chair and bowed in greeting, “Good to see you again, Todoroki-sensei!”

“Y/l/n-san, I told you already you don’t have to refer to me with that dumb title,” he shakes his head, but the soft grin on his face says that he isn’t upset about it. “But, Patient Kuzo, how are you feeling?”

“Well, my shoulder is still in a lot of pain, but I am feeling a lot better now. Y/l/n-chan has been entertaining me for a few minutes now, she’s quite good at having the pain feel less,” Kuzo explains as you watch as Natsuo places a stethoscope on Kuzo’s chest. As Natsuo continues through his check-list for his patients you continued to stare at him.

The life of a doctor was no joke, and in fact, your co-worker turned good friend had a younger brother who was a doctor as well. She had always expressed her sorrow in the fact that he was always holed up in the hospital and not attending family events.

“Y/l/n-san is a volunteer that we are lucky to have,” Natsuo agrees as he writes some things onto the charts. Your eyes focus on the white-haired doctor who looks at Kuzo with a kind smile, one that reminds you of a Pro Hero saving a civilian. “I can give you stronger morphine for now, if the pain is unbearable. Besides that, Patient Kuzo, it seems that you will be needing in-hospice care with physical therapy for two weeks for the shoulder. Then afterward an additional two months of P.T., the worst of things have thankfully passed.”

Kuzo’s face melted into one of relief as he sighs, “Thank goodness… it must be my quirks doing as well!”

Thus a small conversation erupted about Kuzo’s quirk and if it played a hidden role in his recovery.

Laughter filled the room as you talked with exaggeration with the two men in the room. Stories from Kuzo and yourself bringing smiles to Natsuo’s face and soon enough you were doing everything in your power to make the smile into a grin.

“When did you say you started teaching?” Natsuo asks you after you finished your wild goose chase of a story surrounding a student of your managing to stick seventeen — yes, seventeen — pencils up his nose.

Pausing from the small interaction you were having with Kuzo, you stared at Natsuo as if he had asked you to reveal a secret to him.

Coming to your senses, you rubbed the back of your head as you laughed, “I began six years ago! I’m still the youngest teacher at my school too!”

Your smile weirdly tightened as you replayed that last sentence over in your head, what the hell were you thinking? Why did you include that?!

“I’m the youngest person on the trauma surgery board,” Natsuo teases as you roll your eyes at him.

“And I’m the youngest one in this room,” Kuzo jokes which send the three of you into rounds of amused laughter.

That is until a soft alarm goes off.

You watch as Natsuo pulls out his phone and silences it.

“My shift is over, and Patient Kuzo was the last one on my rounds,” Natsuo explains as he gathers his papers together. “I have to go, I have only a few hours of rest before I’m needed back. I’ll see you next time, Patient Kuzo, and whenever I happen to see you again, y/l/n-san.”

“Have a safe trip home, Todoroki-sensei, thank you for helping,” you say to Natsuo as he smiles one last time at you and leaves.

“Are you two dating?” Kuzo asks you as the door closes behind Natsuo.

Your eyebrows scrunch together as you turn your attention towards the bed-bound elder, “No! I only ever talk to him when he’s making his rounds, and our conversations only last five minutes at max!”

“You both talk like lovers, that’s all.”

You resist the urge to blush as you take your seat again, your mind attempting to ignore how your heartbeat picks up at the thought of getting Natsuo to be interested in you.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

“Fuyumi,” Natsuo groaned as he stared into his mirror, his hands still as he shaves the stubble on his cheeks. “I’m not going on a blind date with your coworker of all people!”

“Come on Natsuo,” Fuyumi’s voice sounded extremely disappointed and sad at the rejection. “You’ve never met her before, and I think she would be amazing for you! She’s super sweet, pretty, understands doctor's busy schedules, AND she thinks having sashimi near the sea is romantic.”

“I feel like that’s what you say about every girl you want to set me up with,” Natuso sighs as he places his razor down. “In that exact order, too.”

“Well, it’s the same girl! I don’t want to give you all her fun little secrets until you actually meet her! Why won’t you just go on one little date, I’ll even give you the money needed to take her out!”

She seemed frustrated as her voice pitched. Natsuo felt a bit guilty as he could hear the disappointment in her voice. With a sigh, he brushed back his unstyled hair groaning as he confessed a secret to his sister.

“I would go out on a date with her, but the thing is…” Natsuo pauses, cringing at how childish this was. “I’m interested in someone else at this moment. It's not that I'm not grateful for you looking out for me, but I want to see where this is going with this one girl.”

“There's a girl?!” Fuyumi exclaimed, her voice changing from disappointment to one of elation.

“I'm only telling you this because I feel bad, but there is a volunteer who has been around in the hospital a lot and I am interested in her. And before you ask, no I haven't done anything about it yet.”

“Fine…” Fuyumi’s voice huffs, there’s mixed excitement and disappointment in her tone. “But if you are ever interested in going out with her will you please let me know?”

Natsuo sighed but nodded his head, “If I ever need a date I will make sure to come to you first and get this blind dates name from you.”

“That's all I wanted to hear, okay but I have a meeting with the principal, so I will talk to you later, okay? I love you and have a great night shift, see you soon!”

“Bye, Fuyumi. I love you too, have fun.”

Natuso stared at his phone that went dark as the call ended.

It was supposed to be his day off today, but he needed to go in for a few minutes to assess a case as a second and more informed opinion.

Finishing up his morning routine, Natsuo continued to the hospital which was conveniently a five-minute walk away.

The opinion didn’t take long, and in fact, by the time he got there, the decision had been agreed upon. Natsuo had also agreed with their decision on going forward with the surgery, and now he was on his way out.

He stood outside the hospital entrance, his back to the doors as he made a mental outline of just what he would be going.

However, Natsuo realized that he wasn’t doing anything tonight, so maybe he could go home again, order some take out and watch movies he’s been meaning to watch. Checking his watch he sighed, he just hoped that Fuyumi wouldn’t call him again tonight.

“Todoroki-sensei!” A voice called for him, and Natsuo turned around to see you walking out of the hospital. Your jacket held in your hands as you bowed respectfully. “They were just telling me that you didn’t work today and here I find you still lingering about!”

Natsuo's mind flipped as he returned the bow, watching as you walked on over, a kind smile on your face.

“Good evening, y/l/n-san,” Natsuo greeted as you stopped in front of him. “I didn’t work today; I was called in for a second opinion, that’s all.”

Natsuo watched as your headed nodded in understanding, “Well I’m glad it didn’t eat up your time! I couldn’t volunteer today but I dropped some flowers off for Aiko-chan.”

“Patient Moto,” Natsuo instinctively mutters with a nod. “She’s been out of the ICU for a few days, but she still worries me.”

“Her parents refuse to come to visit her, I’m worried about her too.”

Natsuo nodded as he stared at your face, it was twisted in dissatisfaction and need to do something. What should he do?

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” Natsuo found himself blurting out as your eyes widen. “I mean you don’t have to by any means! You’re just a great volunteer who is also a teacher and that’s not easy to juggle. I also—“

“I’d love to get dinner with you, Todoroki-sensei,” you laugh as you nudge him. Natsuo nods as his cheeks flush as he watches as you pull on your jacket.

“Please don’t call me Todoroki-sensei in public…”

“It’s a habit!”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Natsuo focused on you as your eyes sparkled as they placed an appetizer between the two of you. It was only edamame, but your fingers stretched out happily after thanking the waiter. Natsuo found himself unable to look away from you, the small details surrounding your personality intriguing him, only making the way his heart beat faster.

“So, y/l/n what made you want to become a teacher?” Natsuo asks as you happily much onto the food.

“My parents were educators, and I don’t know,” you shrug as you place the empty hull down. “It just seemed right to do the same thing. Plus, my quirk is so not suited to being a hero! I can make grass grow! Talk about becoming the next All Might with that!”

Natsuo grins as he listens to you ramble about how you considered other options before settling with teaching. Of how you could never see yourself not being a teacher now.

“How about you? Were you always out to be a trauma surgeon?”

Natsuo shifted in his seat as he shook his head, “I wanted to be a psychologist at first, actually.”

“Oh? What made you change your mind?”

“I did some practical rounds during med school…” Natsuo shrugs as he shakes his head. “My mother dealt with abuse and I felt a sense of obligation to help with people who suffered at the hands of their abusers or from abuse… but as soon as I went to try it, I froze. I couldn’t do it. So I watched a few surgeries and it was the best way I could feel like I was helping her out without mentally helping them.”

“That’s… very noble of you,” Natsuo hears you whisper as you nod your head. “Is that what you want to do though? Feeling obligated to do something this grand for your family is important, but by no means should that be the reason you stay!”

“No, no, I love my job! Really, I do! It just sucks I couldn’t do what I originally wanted to do.”

“I’m sure your mother is proud of you regardless, Todoroki-san.”

Natsuo’s eyes shift on your hand that is placed gently on top of his, the warm smile on your face further intensifying the warm aura coming from you. His hand shifts under yours and turns to squeeze your hand softly.

“No wonder why you’re well-liked, you have a very pleasant aura about you.”

Your head drops with embarrassment and Natsuo laughs as the plates of sashimi were brought over for the two of you to eat. The meal was eaten with soft chatter, the two of you talking when it seemed fit, and it felt right.

What interrupted the night was a loud buzz from Natsuo’s phone.

Being a surgeon, Natsuo always had his phone alarm on for calls and texts in case he was needed. With an apologetic smile, Natsuo opened his phone, the main screen shining momentarily as he looked to see that it was merely a text from Fuyumi about setting up a date with her teacher friend.

“Sorry, that was just my sister,” Natsuo apologizes as he puts away his phone. His grey eyes return to your face, but his body stiffens at the look on your face.

“You’re…” you whisper as you point at where his phone would be at. “You’re the Todoroki Natsuo. As in the son of Endeavor?!”

Natsuo feels his skin crawl as he nods his head, it wasn’t that big of a secret, but he preferred the people he was pursuing to not be aware of his parentage.

“I know your sibling!”

Double fuck.

Natsuo pulled his arms closer to himself as he watched your mouth move to speak again. Everyone always said that about Shouto. Every girl always knew him, every girl begged Natsuo to let him meet his younger brother! This was in no shape or form was Shouto’s fault, but it wasn’t the most pleasant feeling when girls were interested in the other Todoroki son when they were on a date with him.

“I love Fuyumi! We work together! You’re the brother who refused to go on a blind date with me!”

As a surgeon, Natuso prided himself on his nimble fingers and his quick thinking, but right now he was stumped. Natsuo gawked at you as you pulled out your own phone, demonstrating the various photos you had with his older sister.

“You don’t… you don’t care about Shouto?”

“Just because he’s a Pro Hero doesn’t mean I want to date him! Besides he’s younger than me and I’m much more interested in another Todoroki right now anyways!” You lean forward, resting your chin on your palms as you grin. “Now tell me, Todoroki-san, what about me made you not want to try a blind date?”

Natsuo chuckles as he shakes his head, “Sorry, we Todoroki’s are a bit dense.”

“That’s okay, you did ask me out to dinner!”

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